13. Thirteen
Thirteen
Arnold
I leaned back in my swivel chair, the click-clack of keys under my fingers slowing as Agatha's breathy laughter filled the air. Her voice was all sexy and sultry as she enticed a client. BigLog69 or something. No... BrownLog69. That's probably it. Why were they all 69? Did they think they were unique?
"Ah, you want me to do what now?" She arched an eyebrow, her words dripping with feigned shock and amusement. On the couch, she twirled a strand of wavy brunette hair around her finger.
The client on the other end of the line must've said something wild because a giggle erupted from her lips. She caught my eye for a split second, winked, then returned to the call. "Oh, I can definitely do that for you..."
My cheeks flushed a shade of red that could outshine the stop sign down the street. I focused on the screen, the words blurring. I'd long since gotten over the jealousy. At this point, we'd just celebrated our eight monthaversary and I had moved into her apartment. Rufus had taken liberties to settle into our bed at night, dampening our nightly activities, but we found a way. The dryer was a favorite.
"More? Well, if you insist..." She stretched out on the couch. I could see from here she wasn't horny, and it made me smile. I'd started to enjoy seeing her perform. She was incredible.
It ended with a soft click, her professional mask slipping off to reveal the dorky grin I fell for every time. She hopped off the couch, padding over in bare feet. My heart did this awkward somersault thing it had no business doing.
"Enjoy the show, bookworm?" Agatha teased, her hips giving a playful sway.
"Show? Oh, right. Hard not to when you're... yeah." Great, smooth as sandpaper, Arnold.
She threw her head back, laughing. "You're cute when you squirm."
I ran a hand through my hair and offered a crooked smile. "Guess I'm just your cuck-worthy audience, huh?"
"Best audience ever." She leaned in, her breath warm against my ear. "But seriously, I love watching you watch me. It's hot."
"Anything for you, my lil wonder." The words left my lips before I could corral them. But they were true, painfully so.
She ruffled my hair, eyes sparkling with mischief and something softer, kinder. It made my chest tighten. She really was the apple to my Adam.
I gulped, my fingers hesitating over the keyboard. "You're my little cum muffin, you know that?" The words tumbled out, awkward yet sincere.
She paused, a half-smile dancing on her lips. Her eyes met mine, all warmth and silent laughter. It was that look, the one that said I got her, cringe and all.
"Only for you, Arnie." Agatha stepped back a few steps and did a little twirl.
My gaze followed her, heart thudding. She swayed back and forth, rhythm in every step. My breath hitched. This was Agatha unplugged, unfiltered.
A tug at her shirt, slow, deliberate. Fabric slid over skin, revealing more of her boobies. It fell to the floor with a soft plop.
Her hips rocked side to side. Each movement stripped away another layer. Of clothes. Of reservations. My pulse raced.
Fingers hooked into her waistband, teasing the edge. Down went the underwear, a whisper of sound that screamed in my ears.
"Like what you see?" she murmured, stepping out of the slight fabric.
"Good man alive, yes." It came out a rasp, throat dry as desert sand. I leaned back, the chair creaking under me.
She stood there in moonlight and shadow. Just Agatha. And it was perfect.
"Bring those beef curtains over here, sweet flaps." My voice was more husk than words.
I pushed my pants down, heat flaring across my face. Agatha blushed, but a playful glint sparked in her deep brown eyes. She moved toward me, her socked feet quiet against the floor. Somehow, after eight months of this, she never failed to make me hot 'n ready.
"Oh baby, I can't wait for you to impale me on your mushroom tip..." Her breath was a warm whisper.
She straddled me, her thighs pressing against mine. The space between us vanished, flesh to flesh. A shiver ran through me, electric.
We kissed. Hard. Hungry. All the pent-up longing poured into that connection. Our mouths clashed; no finesse, just raw need. Her hands tangled in my hair, catching on a knot, pulling me closer.
Heat coursed through me, pooling in my tummy. Her body melded to mine, curves meeting angles. I held her, hands roaming with an urgency I'd never known.
"God, you are..." Words failed me.
"Good?" she finished for me, her laugh breathy against my lips.
"Perfect."
I swallowed hard, the lamp casting a soft glow over us. Agatha's breath hitched as she lowered herself inch by tantalizing inch. Taking all of me, as deep as I could go. Heat surged through me, my body responding before I could form words.
"Goodness gracious, you are like..." She paused, and I felt the warmth of her deep cavern enveloping me.
"Like your personal playground?" I ventured, voice cracking with a mix of nerves and desire.
She nodded, biting her lip in that way that drove me wild. "Exactly," she gasped out.
My hands found her waist, then roamed freely. The curve of her hip fit into my palm, skin soft as I explored further, the curve of her belly against mine, the stretch marks against her skin. All wrapped to protect this one human being. A national treasure.
"Your fingers... they're magic," she whispered, arching into my touch.
"Magic? More like lucky explorers on an epic quest."
Her nails pressed into my back, little crescents of urgency. I winced, but it subsided. The sensation sent a jolt straight to my core, making my weiner twitch inside her.
"Sorry, did I—" Her concern flickered through the dim light.
"Keep going," I assured her, the fire in my veins drowning out everything else.
"Good, because this muffin isn't done being decorated," she teased, grinding down onto me in a way that made logical thought evaporate.
"Let me splat my baby batter inside your walls, sweet cum dumpster."
I gulped, the sound of it lost in the breathy moans that filled the room. Agatha and I were a tangle of limbs, moving in a rhythm that was as clumsy as it was earnest. Our bodies seemed to click together, two mismatched puzzle pieces somehow making a perfect fit.
We fumbled, barely missing each other's heads as she bounced up and down. My can slipping out of her a few times as she readjusted. Her legs wrapped tighter around my legs, urging me on. I could feel every inch of her, the heat, the wetness. She oozed with prime juice.
"More, give me more," she demanded, nails digging into my shoulders. I gave her everything I had. All four and a half inches.
Her breath sucked in loudly, eyes locked onto mine. Our pace quickened, and the sound of skin slapping against skin became the beat to which our bodies synced. I felt her tighten around me, the tension building in waves that promised an imminent release.
"Right there, Arnie, don't stop," she moaned, her voice teetering on the edge of control.
And then, as if on cue, it hit us. A crescendo of pleasure that tore through our bodies, wracking us with spasms of ecstasy. She clung to me, her cry mingling with my own as I pumped my milk into her.
We held on, riding out the aftershocks, our shared climax a searing brand on our souls.
"Wow," she whispered, a laugh bubbling up from her throat.
I slumped back into the chair, Agatha still a tangle of limbs around me. Her moisture was sliding down my leg, leaving a sticky trail. Our breaths came in slow, matching rhythms now.
"Arnold, we..." She trailed off, her fingers tracing lazy circles on my chest.
"Shh, I know." I brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, marveling at how it curled around my finger. A smile tugged at my lips. To think I was a virgin not that long ago.
She chuckled, the sound bubbling up from deep within. "Did you really call me your 'cum muffin'?"
"Guilty." My cheeks heated, but I owned it. She was. I enjoyed decorating her insides all too much.
"And the whole 'beef curtains.'" She nuzzled into my neck, her laughter vibrating against my skin.
"Hey, I'm new at this." I wrapped my arms around her, feeling her heartbeat still racing against mine.
"Best kind of new." Her lips found mine again, soft and lingering. She never failed to make me feel like a man, even when I fell short.
I shuffled off the chair, Agatha's hand sliding from my back. Our clothes lay scattered like casualties of our passion. She found her robe; I snagged my shirt. We ambled over to the couch, the cushions inviting us to sink into their familiar comfort. She plopped down first, patting the space beside her. I followed, the fabric of the sofa brushing against sensitive skin.
"Remember when you first called?" She nestled into me, head finding its spot under my chin.
"Vividly." My arm wrapped around her, her body heat seeping into mine. "Thought I'd die from nerves."
"I loved how nervous you sounded. I thought you busted a nut in the first two minutes."
"Hot." I groaned, feeling her chuckle against my chest. "But I did, I really did. You were so frickin' hot."
"Seriously?" She stifled a laugh.
"Your voice," I tried to defend my penis' lack of experience, " did things to me before I even saw your face."
We fell into silence, the kind that wasn't empty but full of everything we didn't need to say. Our laughter had ebbed, leaving a peace in its wake. I looked at Agatha, really looked, and saw the woman who'd turned my world upside down—in the best possible way.
"Arnie?" Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant.
"Yeah?" I squeezed her closer, a silent reassurance.
"Thanks for being the cheese to my curds."
I kissed her hair and then yawned, the kind that cracked my jaw and fogged my brain. Agatha snuggled closer, her breath a steady rhythm against my chest. Our limbs tangled, lazy-like, as if they had forgotten where I had ended and she had begun.
"Getting sleepy?" Her words were slurred with the edge of dreams.
"Maybe." A chuckle escaped me, half-hearted. Sleep was winning, but I fought to stay in the moment.
"Stay with me," she murmured. Her hand found mine, fingers lacing with a trust I still marveled at.
"I'll be right here." My voice was a whisper, truth wrapped in sleepy syllables. The couch would have to do, crinked neck and all.
"Good." She shifted, head finding the crook of my shoulder. It fit just so.
My eyes drooped. Beside me, Agatha's breathing deepened, and the rise and fall of her chest was a lullaby in its own right. Our limbs grew heavy as they sunk further into the cushions.
"Love you."
"Love you more." I tightened my hold. Her response was a contented sigh as she nuzzled her face into me.
The room faded, shadows blending into night. Our love story, of cringe and tenderness, wove itself into the quiet. As sleep claimed us, we held on, two awkward hearts beating as one.
And in the hush, before dreams took over, I knew. This—us—it was everything.
The sweet little cum dumpster and her awkward cum dumper.