20 Rich #3
I didn’t bring another vibrator to stuff her full. Instead I release her cheek to dig in my pocket, pulling out the little toy. Twisting around as I stretch her open I place the device against her clit, letting it fit snug over the spot before turning it on and pulling my hand away.
“Oh, fuck!” she screams, and I push her face towards the ground again. I need to go back to censoring those screams. “God, Rich.”
I let the clit stimulator work its magic, running the head of my cock over her sopping wet pussy before removing my fingers and sliding back.
She tenses. “No lube?”
“Kim, you’re so fucking wet, your cum will be more than enough to work my cock in. I can make you orgasm again and again until I have enough. I want to see my cum dripping out of your ass, too.”
She whimpers, and I smack her ass playfully as I begin working my way in. She whines, grinding back against me before pulling away at the burn, and I place a hand on her back as the toy does its job, keeping her in the right position for me.
“See how good you’re doing?” I ask, my other hand moving around her body to slide beneath the shirt and toy with her nipples.
They are so damn hard, and if we were in another position I’d love to suck on them.
“Stretch wide for me. I want your ass gaping when I’m finished.
Can you do that for me? Gape while you’re full of my cum? ”
She makes a jerky motion that I think is a nod between the shakes, and I keep stretching her ass with my cock. She feels so tight, and I know that I won’t last long before this second orgasm hits.
“My good girl,” I tell her, bending forward to kiss her back. “I’m going to kiss and bite every inch of your skin when we get back to the house.”
She moans. “Please fucking do.”
It feels like Kimber flexed her ass cheeks, because she squeezes me tight, and it just about sends me over the edge. She cries out, and I’m positive she came again. Her body twitches harder, reaching a level of overstimulation.
“One more,” I grunt, massaging her ass cheek. “I’m almost there. Break with me.”
She does, probably because I’ve left the toy on her this whole time and she’s rolling through orgasm after orgasm. Mine sweeps over me quickly, and I groan as I bury myself in her ass and sigh as my balls empty.
When the orgasm no longer controls me I blink and look down, feeling Kimber twitching around me. She’s so worked up I can hear her choking back a cry. I immediately reach around her and turn the toy off, slowly removing it from her throbbing clit.
She’s definitely on the verge of crying. When I said break, I meant break.
“You did amazing,” I say, sliding the toy into my pocket to bring it back to the house. When my cock’s softened enough I slip out of her, snapping the waistband back into place before gathering her up in my arms.
Kimber sags with a groan, and I scoop her up before she can lie in the dirt any longer. Her skin is sticky, and without meaning to I’ve caused the need for a bath before bed. I can absolutely take her back to the house and dote on her a little after taking her ass like that.
Her grip is loose around my neck when she hugs me and settles in. It’s a slower process back up the hill with her in my arms, but she silently lets me take her back up. There’s still tremors rolling through her body, and I don’t think she’ll be able to make the walk back up by herself.
When we finally reach my sliding door, I’m sweaty and could use a shower too. She’s managed to stay quiet the whole walk up, and I glance down at her when I step inside and set her on the sofa. She’s toeing off her shoes when I lock the door and glance at her.
She briefly eyes the kitchen where I’ve shut all the cabinet doors, then looks back towards me. “I’m sorry if I worried you by pressing the button.”
“Why did you?” I ask seriously.
“I…” she pauses and tucks her knees up under her chin now that the shoes are off, but her clothing is still mostly out of place. “I was out there, waiting, because I knew you would be coming. Well, I hoped you would after our fight.”
“The argument in the kitchen?” I ask. “I wouldn’t call that a fight per say. A large disagreement maybe.”
“Well, in my head it was a fight,” she says more quietly, and she’s looking down towards her knees now.
“I know I’m the one who wanted you to chase me tonight, so that’s on me.
But I stopped running at some point in the woods and when I looked around, it felt like I was running away from my problems. Like I always do.
And I couldn’t use alcohol to cope so - so… ”
Her eyes lift to mine, and there’s a helpless look in them. “I wanted to cut.”
Her works slam into me, and I’m across the space in an instant, sitting beside her. “Kim-”
She holds up a hand, stretching out one leg to reach into the pocket of her leggings.
I didn’t even notice the pockets before.
But she holds up a small pocket knife, her eyes dropping in shame, and I realize it wasn’t just a thought.
It was an idea. She had the means to do it if she truly wanted to.
“I know I shouldn’t,” she says, and I glance up at her.
She holds out the knife to me and I take it, her hand snapping away from mine.
“And I don’t think about it. Much. Or often.
It just hit me. And although it was a thought, I didn’t want to do that to myself again.
But I thought about it. And it sounded like a good idea.
So I used the tracker. I thought if I saw you the urge would go away and it did. ”
I toss the knife to the chair across from us and turn, gripping both of her hands. “Never apologize for alerting me that something’s wrong. I’m always here for you, like I promised.”
My fingers reach higher on her arms, running across the scars, and we both look down. She blows out a breath, and I keep doing the same thing. “You don’t have to touch them.”
“I want to touch them,” I correct. “As long as it’s okay with you. They are a part of you. Your scars tell a story, but it’s not one you need to add to.”
She keeps her eyes down. “I hate them. I don’t want to put any more on my skin. It was… a bad judgment call, that’s all.”
“It was a good judgment call,” I argue. “You chose not to. Even if you had the urge, you didn’t go through with it.”
It’s kind of like what’s going on with her and alcohol, but there’s no reason to mention that now. For the moment this is enough to worry about.
When we fall silent, I trace the scars with my finger again. “What made you cut to begin with?”
I feel her tense, but remarkably, she doesn’t pull back.
“High school. It was terrible. I didn’t have any really close friends, and I was the weirdo who liked strange things.
Teenagers are just awful. My parents weren’t really emotionally there for me, so there was never anyone I felt secure enough with to share my thoughts.
If I cut, the pain released some of the tension and it eliminated the need to talk. It made things simpler.”
Frowning, I don’t hesitate to lift both of her arms and bring them to my lips. She stops breathing as I kiss one wrist then the other.
“You’re not alone anymore,” I say, meeting her eyes again. “I’ll be your sounding board for anything that’s troubling you. Hurting yourself isn’t the answer, and I don’t want you to feel like it’s the only one there is. You’re not alone in this.”
Her eyes mist, and she moves forward to throw her arms around me and tuck her head against my chest. Her shoulders shake when she takes the next breath, and then she’s crying in my arms.
I lift her without a thought, and she bands her legs around my hips to steady herself. When I kiss her it’s soft, gentle, and the kiss mixes with her tears.
Pulling back, I head towards the stairs. “No more bad thoughts. Not for tonight anyway.”