Bad Cruz

I shepherded her by the wrist, draping her small fist around the root of my shaft. This was so high school, and I was so into it I seriously suspected I’d just unveiled an unexpected kink of mine.

Things had become so boring in bed recently, the Gabriellas and Karens of the world blurring together in a mix of wannabe-porn stars who sought to prove to me that they were the chosen ones, the woman I couldn’t do without.

It never occurred to me that the one I was actually fantasizing about was a woman not acting her way into looking like a pro. A woman who was engrossed in the moment, fully present for the pleasure of it instead of faking it to turn me on.

Refreshing.

Tennessee leaned down, taking some of my cock into her mouth. She gave it a thorough suck before bobbing her head hesitantly to perform oral sex.

As far as giving head went, she had a long way to go, but just the sight of her doing it threw me close to the edge. I was about to come, sitting on this strange bed, watching her suck me off.

Also, I couldn’t stop stroking her hair.

My cock jerked in her mouth, and it was becoming more and more clear I was about to blow my load after three seconds.

“Sweetheart, let me make it good for you, too.” My voice was so thick, it sounded like I’d swallowed a football.

She looked up, a little perplexed.

“It’s not good for you, is it?”

“No. No. It’s great.”

“Then what’s the problem?” She was still holding my dick—hostage, some would say—which wasn’t the best way a man wanted to negotiate his position.

“No problem. You can continue doing what you’re doing.”

“No, tell me.”

“Fine. If you don’t stop sucking my cock, I’m going to come all over that nice oversized shirt of yours, and since it’s new, and since I’m over thirteen, I would very much like it to not happen.”

“Oh.”

“You asked me to tell you.”

“I did. So what else can we do? Now that I’ve learned how to give head.”

She didn’t really know how to give head, but I wasn’t going to correct her. For one thing, it was rude and disheartening. For another, I was already setting up the guy who’d come after me for an awkward conversation, if not complete failure.

I hoped she’d dump him.

Actually, I hoped he’d die before he had the chance to meet her.

I obviously needed therapy.

“There’s a lot we can explore,” I murmured, pushing her backward.

Her head fell on the pillow. I laced my fingers through hers from both sides, pinning her down to the bed, my lips fluttering over her neck.

“Can you do some bodice-ripping?” Tennessee blurted out eagerly, like a schoolgirl at her first theme park outing. “Or maybe just shirt-ripping? Any kind of ripping would be good, to be honest. I’ve always been such a fan of the whole guy-tearing-a-woman’s-clothes in books.”

“Honey, consider it my contribution to society to destroy your clothes.”

With that, I grabbed the collar of the shirt I’d purchased earlier and ripped it in one smooth movement, her perfect, round breasts popping out in front of me. Pear-shaped, with nipples the color of flamingos.

I crashed my mouth over hers, breathless.

My brain still couldn’t comprehend that this was happening. She bucked her hips toward me, moaning, and I moved my lips to kiss her tits, lick around her nipples, dip my tongue into her navel.