Chapter 8 #3
“Oh God,” I groan, tackling her forward with too much impetus.
Too much force. I shove my cock in between her ass cheeks and stroke myself against that tiny pucker, my chest sweating, heaving like I’m going to hyperventilate.
Maybe I am. She’s the most exquisite creation I’ve ever witnessed, let alone touched.
Let alone fucked.
That’s what I’m about to do.
There’s no stopping me now. Not when she’s working her backside in my lap, giving me friction, asshole on cock. Asshole on fist as I pump my junk. “Put your finger in it,” I growl in her ear. “Use the juice from that little pussy to make your finger slick, June Bug. Fuck your own asshole for me.”
At first, she isn’t sure, and that innocent hesitation makes my balls throb.
God, she is a potent combination of untried and horny. She could kill a lesser man.
Finally, she drags her middle finger through the dripping valley of her cunt, whimpering as she slides that damp middle finger along her undercarriage to the place where nothing has ever gone in before.
I separate from her enough to watch it happen, my resulting groan loud enough for the whole bus to hear, as if I give a damn.
They all wish they’d ever seen anything so sweet in their life.
“Don’t worry, baby, I’m barely going to get my cock in before it’s all over,” I say fervently, kissing each cheek of her backside with an open mouth, before leaning in and jiggling my tongue in the spot where her middle finger is sinking in. Stretching her asshole for me. “Are you ready for me?”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. It’s so big. But I want you inside me, anyway.”
“That’s a good girl,” I pant, rolling my face around in her neck, bringing my meat to her rear entrance and nudging aside her finger, pressing.
And oh Jesus, just pressing myself there is almost enough to finish me, but a new, ferocious animal nature has come to life inside of me and I snarl possessively, tucking a few inches of myself inside. “Oh shit. Oh God!”
“Deeper!”
I flex my hips and take myself halfway inside of that squeezing ring of flesh, my loins in a state of shocked pleasure, ready to implode. “This ain’t virgin asshole, anymore, little girl. What is it?”
“Daddy’s asshole,” she whispers shakily.
“That’s right, baby.” I work my length in and out, slowly, grinding back in, deep, making her cry out. “Say it louder.”
“That’s Daddy’s asshole,” she screams through her teeth and I hear several groans on the other side of the door.
They’re listening. They know I’m fucking a hot twenty-year-old in ways that should make me ashamed to show my face ever again.
But what they don’t know is how close I feel to June with my mouth pressed into her neck, her breath patchy like mine, our hearts in a simultaneous sprint.
They don’t know how grounded I am in the moment with this girl, when I’m usually a million miles away, completing an impersonal act.
They don’t know I feel…home. Valued. Real. Alive.
June makes me feel that way.
June, who rides that intensely snug asshole up and down my shaft, in a slow, teasing wiggle, until I’m blind to anything but that sinful friction, our shuddering moans unmuffled, everyone on the bus listening to me fuck June in the ass, and God help me, I think she likes it.
No, I think she loves me putting a claim on her so close to fifty other men.
Her eager glance back at me over her shoulder tells me that, as does the quickening pace of her hips.
“Ohhhh fuck. You’re going to make me come. I’m going to come. I’m going to come.”
“Right in my hot, young ass, Daddy,” she cries out. “Please?”
“June Bug,” I grit out, her breathy taunt pushing me right to the edge.
Thank God I have the presence of mind to wedge my fingers between us and stroke her clit with two fingers.
Stroking, circling, playing, until I her that telltale whine and she squirts into my palm, and I finally let myself nut, the world going bright white on all sides of me.
I plunge every inch of my dick into that forbidden place and grunt gutturally, like a beast of the woods, while waves of hot sperm fire up and out, treating my abdomen to the burning flex of pain, my balls convulsing between the spread cheeks of her bottom.
I fill June and overflow her, milky liquid seeping out and coating her buns, dripping onto the bedclothes and the floor between her knees.
“Perfect girl,” I breathe into her hair, roving my mouth down and up the side of her dewy neck while she recovers. “Sexy girl.”
“You make me feel that way,” she whispers.
“You only feel it for me.” I latch onto her earlobe with my teeth, ownership settling over me like a heavy mantel. Locking into place in a way I can’t control. “Mine. Every sweet inch. Every beautiful hole. Every hair on this head. Is mine.”
“That’s nothing new,” she murmurs, boneless beneath me. “I’ve always been yours.”
As she falls asleep beneath me and I arrange her in my arms in bed, worry and doubt start to creep in. How can anyone so perfect belong to someone so imperfect?
Is it possible?
Could I keep her?
If so, how long would it take to realize I’m not worth her time, the way everyone else has done?