29. Simon

Keepingmyhandsoff Rhys George is getting more and more futile. What makes it worse is that Bossi has already staked his claim on her. As soon as he realised I’d had some Simon Says fun time with her, he’d let me know that he’d already been with her. Then he said he’d share her with me.

How fucking generous of him! The idea was fucking weird until Garrett pointed out that Rhys isn’t going to commit to one guy, which is why her and Marcus didn’t work out. I mean, share her. Really? That’s fucking absurd, right?

My head has been a mess because, for some fucking reason, I didn’t think Marcus would take it as bad as he did. Clearly, I was thinking with Big Simon and not my fucking brain. Of course, Grady has feelings for Rhys. Whatever they had together went from zero to one hundred in like a day, so yeah, he fell hard, and after having a sample of the girl in question myself, I fucking understand why.

She’s like a sex goddess or something. The royalty of fornication. Queen of copulation. Just fucking epic. A siren sent to lead us into her trap, and fuck yeah, I intend on diving headfirst.

Am I a little obsessed? Absa-fucking-lutely. The Hastenator has an addiction that just so happens to match my type of crazy. So, will I share her like Bossi suggested? Fuck yeah, I’ll take her however she’ll have me.

The thing is, this thing with Rhys isn’t just about getting my dick wet. It’s more than that. I’ve never really felt like I’ve connected with a girl before. I’m the class clown. The goof. Too playful to be serious. I give everyone the fun version of Simon Hastings, yet most of the time, I’d rather just disappear.

My parents have no interest in me. It began when I was about six years old. They paid for nannies to raise me while they travelled the world. If it weren’t for my mates, I would have checked out a long time ago. It’s knowing this about myself that helps me understand Rhys so well. We are the same in a lot of ways. We hide behind humour and take the piss so no one can see the real pain we are in. It’s also why I feel so comfortable with her. Why our time together is actually fun. Like the real kind. It comes so easy like it’s meant to be.

That’s why I can’t ignore the pull she has on me. Why I just couldn’t deny myself the need to be closer to her even when I knew I’d be hurting my mate. Does that make me a fucking prick? Probably. But I’ll try to explain it to Marcus one day. If he ever speaks to me again, that is.

At lunchtime, Lexi stole my girl’s attention, declaring they were having girl time, so all of us horny fuckers sat on the table with our eyes trained on them as they lay in the sun, chatting quietly. During Maths this arvo, Rhys was unusually quiet, and when I asked her what was wrong, she told me that things didn’t feel right without Marcus here.

Yeah, she can pretend all she likes, but she does care about him more than she’s willing to admit. I could have a chat with Marcus and see if he’s willing to share her too, but there’s a fair fucking chance that when he sees me, I’ll be eating his fist. Rhys told him about her and me after he punched the fuck out of Bossi’s pretty face last week, so it’s fair to say I’m next on the list.

That’s a problem for me to worry about another time because right now, I’m expecting Rhys to arrive at my front door any minute, and I need to calm the fuck down so I don’t bowl her over like a Labrador hyped up on energy drink.

I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I’ve been alone with Rhys before. I’ve been naked and deep inside her before—just the two of us hiding away and getting wrapped up in each other in the photo lab. I guess now it’s different because she’ll be in my house. Just the two of us. No worries about getting busted by anyone else. For some reason, it feels more intimate.

The doorbell rings, and my heart races like I’m on crack or something. Not that I know what that’s like, but I feel like it would be pretty similar. I straighten my black shirt, and blow into my palm, hoping my breath isn’t rank, and then the doorbell rings again and again, over and over and over. All signs of my nerves fly out the window as a grin spreads across my face—this chick. Always clowning around, just like me.

I swing the door open and grin at the cheeky smirk on Rhys George’s face.

“Please tell me your parents aren’t here.” She peers over my shoulder, and I shrug.

“What if they are?”

“Then I just royally fucked up by my impatient bell ringing.” Her eyes go wide as the idea of my parents being here and witnessing her being a brat sinks in.

I chuckle. “Relax, George. My olds are never here. Come on in.” Stepping back, I gesture to the foyer of my house and watch her relax, stepping over the threshold.

Rarely does Rhys George wear pants, and tonight is no different. She has on a short black skirt with some fold things on it. Pleats? Whatever, it looks good on her. It shows off those long legs that disappear under it, and fuuuck. I want to slide my hand up that skirt.

Not yet, man!

She has on dark red Dr Martin boots with a black frilly sock, and her t-shirt is a deep red colour, similar to her shoes. It’s a fitted t-shirt if that’s even a thing? I don’t know what chicks call them, but it accentuates those heavy tits of hers, and the black lacy choker thing that wraps around her long slender neck disappears between her cleavage and under the shirt.

Her hair is in those bun things she wears all the time. I wonder if she’ll let me take them out? I’d love to run my hands through her hair. I bet it’s like silk.

“I forgot how big your house is, Simon.” Rhys spins on the spot in the middle of the foyer, and as she twirls, her skirt flies up enough that I can see the bare globes of her arse. The G-string she has on does nothing to hide those tempting mounds. Fuuuck now I’m hard.

Big Simon is awake and ready to copulate.

Yeah, I just made a fucking rhyme.

Kinda.

I’m on fire tonight!

“Nah, my house isn’t that big.”

“What?” She stops spinning and raises her dark brows at me. “You have a fucking foyer in your house! It’s bigger than my bedroom, Simon. Dude, your house is massive.”

My smile is broad as I chuckle at her, and I step up, pulling her against my body.

“My house isn’t the only thing that’s massive.”

She bursts out laughing, “You’re very confident about that, aren’t you, Hastings?” She reaches up, winding her arms around my neck. “With good reason, I suppose. I can feel your massiveness, and it’s making me very hungry.”

I can’t stop fucking smiling like a goof, but then again, neither can she. Tonight her lips aren’t black. They are a deep dark red colour to match her top. She’s so fucking enticing. I can already imagine what those lips will look like wrapped around my dick.

Not able to hold back any longer, I lean in and press my lips to hers, and just like that, the fire ignites. Her lips part for me, and her tongue meets mine in the middle as we grip onto each other, tugging our bodies closer as need surges through my veins and straight to my dick.

“Simon.” Her voice is husky as she speaks between kisses. It’s like her arousal has affected her voice. “What’s for dinner?”

“You.” Locking my lips back onto hers, I slide my hands down over the curve of her hips and grip the round globes of her arse before hoisting her up. Her legs wrap around me, and the moment I feel the heat of her pussy against my dick, I moan and grind against her.

“You should eat now,” Rhys suggests, and I chuckle against her neck as my lips pepper kisses there. I start walking, carrying my girl, and take her into the kitchen to the breakfast bar that runs along the front of the bifold glass doors overlooking the pool. Propping her arse on the granite bench-top, I step back and gesture to the side where I have our meal laid out.

“Oh. When I said you should eat now, I meant me, but hey, I’m down for food first.” Smiling, she leans to her side and dips her finger in the gravy jug before bringing it to her lips. When the tip of her gravy finger disappears between those deep red lips, my dick jerks.

I’ve already jacked off three times since getting home from school, so I don’t arrive at the party prematurely, but I don’t think it’s going to matter. This little minx has super sex powers. I’m already close to blowing my load.

“Why do we have to wait? Why can’t we eat and fuck at the same time?” I ask.

Having just inserted that finger of hers covered in gravy for the second time, Rhys freezes, her finger rooted between her lips.

“What? Haven’t you ever done food play before?” I grin, and Rhys’ finger pops from her lips, her expression unreadable. Shit, is food play like some sort of trigger for her?

“I’ve done a lot of different things, but the closest thing to food play I’ve done is licking whipped cream and body chocolate off someone. Even whiskey a couple of times. But this,” she turns to the array of food on the bench, “never anything like this.”

“Oh. We don’t have to.” Shit. Have I fucked up already?

When I see the mischievous grin spread across her face, my body relaxes, and I watch as her eyes darken with heat that wasn’t there before.

“Oh yes, we do have to. Now I’m imagining so many fucking scenarios that involve mash potato, gravy, carrots, and peas. Jesus, how did I not know how fucking hot the thought of peas is?”

Throwing my head back, I laugh. Her tone and expression are like a kid walking through Disneyland. “Let’s dig in then, shall we?”

Her nod is exaggerated as she starts stripping off her clothes. Her top comes off first, and then she sets to work on her boots while I drop my pants and jocks and tug my shirt over my head. Once she’s kicked off her boots and socks, instead of hopping down off the bench to tackle her skirt, Rhys stands on the counter and looks down at me as she slowly unzips it. When it falls to her feet, she kicks it away, and I take a moment to look up and soak in her beauty. Her body is perfect. Slender curves in all the right places and a nice swell to those perky tits. The thin black lace G-string she’s wearing plays peekaboo with her pussy, and the lace bra she has on is what the choker thing is attached to. Fuck, that’s hot.

Grinning wickedly, she goes to sit down, but I stop her, holding my hand up as I take the two steps to the counter to come face to face with her pussy. Gliding my hands up the backs of her silky legs, I peer up at her as she watches me from above, and the moment my palms find her arse, I grip her and bury my head between her legs.

Rhys gasps as I moan, wetness meeting my lips, showing me just how soaked she already is. Nails scrape my scalp as her fingers grip my hair, and she grinds her cunt against my face. This is fucking heaven, right here between her thighs. The day I take my last breath, this is the place I want to be. I graze my tongue over the lace and kiss it like it’s her mouth, and fuck, she’s so responsive. Her hips push forward, seeking more, and I love that she’s not scared to show exactly how she feels and what she wants.

I may have been a virgin at the start of last week, but I still had experience with girls, and none of them are like this. They were shy. Too scared to make a noise or move their hips too much. Rhys George is no girl, though. At seventeen years old, she is nothing but a woman.

Pulling back, I reach for her hands and tug, silently telling her to sit on the bench.

“Exactly how long is that tongue of yours?” She pants, and I feel the shit-eating grin that morphs my face.

“You like my tongue?”

“God, yes. I’m gonna need you to fuck me with it at some stage.” Her serious expression shows me she’s not kidding. And hell yes, I love the way she speaks. It’s dirty and honest and free of any shame.

“Deal. But first. It’s time for food.” Pressing my hand to her chest, I slowly push her back until she’s lying on the counter, and then I reposition her, placing her legs wide on each side of the counter with her arse mere inches from a cherry pie. “I’m going to take these sexy fucking things off,” I glide my fingers over her bra and panties, “because I don’t want them to get dirty.”

“Ok.” She grins, working on her bra while I peel her G-string off. Once she’s bare, I take a moment to study her straining nipples and glistening cunt. Last time I saw them was in the red hue of the photography darkroom. Now, she is on full display for me under the bright downlights that line the ceiling. Fucking beautiful.

Climbing up on the counter with her, I pour the gravy over the mashed potato and, using a spoon, I scoop up a decent pile before smearing it under her navel. She moans even though I’m not touching her erogenous zones, and my eyes flick from the spoon to her eyes as I drag it down to smear the rich gravy and potato over the epicentre of her clit.

Rhys’ back arches off the bench as her hands slap down on the cold granite, latching onto the edges. Rolling the spoon around to get good coverage, I drag it through her folds, filling them with the delicious side dish.

“Holy fucking-hell.” She gasps.

“Is it ok?” I place the spoon down, leaving her slit filled with the thick mash, and then use my fingers to pick up a glistening honey carrot.

“Yes. It’s kinda weird,” she pants, rolling her hips a little, “yet it feels like I’m being teased there. A warm pressure that has me wanting more.”

Oh yeah. Rhys George is my soul mate. I’ve always loved food, and I have so many fantasies that involve food and a woman’s orifices that I’ve been craving to try. Never thought I’d find a willing participant, though, especially at my age.

I’ve won the fucking lottery, that’s for sure.

Hovering over her body, I bring the carrot to her right nipple and circle it before moving to the left. She moans each time I do it, and once I see her dark pink nipples glistening in the honey juice, I bring the carrot up to her parted lips.

“Simon says, open.”

A grin tugs at her lips before she opens them and lets me slide the tender cooked carrot into her mouth. She moans again, tasting the rich sweetness, and then she bites it in half. As she chews, I eat the other half and then repeat it with another carrot. The next time she bites down on the carrot, I press two fingers to her clit and slowly start moving through the mash. Her back arches again, and I lean down and swipe my tongue over her honey covered nipples, over and over, until she’s withering and panting.

“Do you want to come, Rhys?” I ask against her nipple, and she whimpers while nodding.

“Yes. Fuck yes.”

“Ok, but first, I need more food.”

Her eyes fly open, the dark pools of desire meeting mine as I push some of the plates out of the way. I climb up on the bench with her and swiftly mauver myself between her legs. My fingers move to her filled pussy, mash potato and gravy oozing everywhere, and I drag a finger from her puckered arse, up through her filled folds, to the tip of her swollen clit. She’s already close to losing her composure, her frustrated whimpers giving her away, so after I lick my finger clean of the mash I collected from her folds, I dive down and eat her pussy.

I swipe my tongue through the mash, loving the texture of the food and her satin skin, and I swallow down the food, making sure I clean away most of it from her opening before sinking two fingers in. One of her hands delves into my hair, and I glance up, making eye contact with Rhys as she watches me devour her. Her other hand is busy at work, her fingers pinching her nipple as she thrusts her hips to meet each swirl of my tongue and thrust of my fingers.

“Fuck Hastings. You look perfect between my legs.”

I grin around my working tongue, now focusing on her needy nerve ending as I clean away the mash.

I can feel her walls squeezing as she seeks her orgasm, so I hook my fingers up as I finger fuck her, and that’s when she starts screaming as she clenches over and over around my digits.

Even after she stops pulsing, I keep licking her slowly as I clean off the last traces of food.

“That… that was… unexpected,” Rhys whispers before lifting her head off the granite to look at me.

Yeah, I’m a smug fucker right now.

“In a good way, I hope?”

“Hell yes!” Rhys props herself up on her elbows. “I want more.”

I can’t hide my smile. It’s so big it fucking hurts.

“You want my dick now?”

“Yes. In my mouth first. Then in Kitty.”

“Kitty?” I sit up, a little confused.

“Guys aren’t the only ones that name their sex organs, Simon.”

I chuckle. “I guess not. Your pussy is called Kitty?”

“Yep.” She reaches out a hand, and I pull her up to sit. “Now, it’s my turn to eat something.” Looking over my shoulder, Rhys studies the array of food. “Mmm, cherry pie. Yes, please.”

I chuckle as she moves excitedly, reaching for the pie, and when she sits back, she’s balancing it on one hand.

“Do you like cherry pie, Simon?”

“Yes. It’s my favourite.”

“Mmm, mine too.” Then she slaps it on my bare chest and drags it down until my torso is covered in chunks of cherry pie.

We both laugh, and I brace my hands on the counter behind me as she drops the foil pie tray and uses both hands to rub the pie in as if she were smearing sunscreen on me. Lowering her head, she licks over my nipple before biting her teeth down, and fuck, my dick jerks, pre-cum beading at the top.

“You taste delicious, Simon.” She moans out as she brings her hands up to slap sticky cherry pie on my face as she palms my jaw.

“Oh, you really want to get messy, don’t you?” I growl, and she grins like a little brat.

“Yes. Messy and dirty as fuck.” She agrees before leaning in to kiss me.

Our tongues clash as she holds my chin still, then her finger slides in past our joined lips, and the sweet taste of cherry explodes on my taste buds.

In unison, our moans fill the room, and she pulls back, gliding her tongue from my mouth, over my jaw and down my neck. Making a trail, she weaves through the cherry pie, taking short breathers so she can eat down some of the mangled pie smeared over my skin. As Rhys licks her way down my body, I lean back further, giving her better access, and she gathers up more pie before smearing it over my straining cock.

“Oh, fuck, baby. That feels so good.”

Rhys grins. “You like how juicy that feels?” She asks, her eyes wide with excitement as she watches my expression.

“Yes. So fucking good.”

“Tell me what you want, Simon?”

“Simon says suck my dick.”

The smile she shoots me is utterly evil, right before she drops her head and the hot heat of her mouth sucks Big Simon in.

“Oh fuck.” I hiss, my mouth dropping open as I pant, worried I’m about to spill into her mouth already.

She starts working her hand up and down my shaft, her mouth moving in sync and her tongue gliding over my throbbing cock. Every now and then, she pops me free, gathering up more pie and smearing it over my dick.

“Rhys,” I pant, and she takes me so deep she gags. “I need to fuck you now.”

The pop in the room is loud as she releases my cock, and I reach back on the counter where I placed a condom earlier, tearing the top off the packet.

“You want me to lick the pie off first?” Rhys glides her finger up my shaft, bringing the gathered pie to her lips and licking it off.

“No. I wanna feel the pie as I fuck you.”

Her lips part, and her cheeks flush pink.

“That’s so fucking hot. Get that condom on now. I need to ride you.”

I chuckle as she stands on the bench, moving carefully, so she doesn’t slip on the mess we’ve made. I roll the rubber down my shaft, looking up at her standing over me, covered in cherry pie, looking like a fucking queen.

“Saddle up, baby.” Gripping the base of my shaft, I hold him up, and she moves to straddle me, hovering over my dick. The moment my tip sinks in her heat, we both become frenzied, and I tug her down hard, impaling myself inside her.

Our gasps are loud as we start moving together. With Rhys pressed up against me, her tits smear in the red cherry pie, and fuck, it looks like the same shade as her lipstick. Fucking cherry pie. My cherry pie.

Rhys shifts, wrapping her legs around me, and I feel like there’s no way possible for us to get any closer to each other than in this moment. I circle my arms around her, claiming her lips in a sticky, sweet, hungry kiss as we grind together frantically. Keeping one hand on her upper back, I shift my other hand to her arse and grip her hard, helping her rise and fall, revelling in the way she rubs her clit against my pubic bone as she seeks another orgasm.

I’m so deep inside her that I feel like I’m going to hurt her, but she demands my deep thrusts, and there’s no way I’m going to deny her. My balls tighten, and I know I’m close. I don’t want to ruin it by coming too soon, but even as I think it, Rhys is contracting around me, throwing her head back and screaming her release. I’m gone at that point; white light fills my vision as I explode, filling the latex barrier with my cum, mixing in with the cherry pie.

Our panting breaths are loud in the room, and as we both start to come down from our high and relax, I pull back to look at my girl.

Her face is smeared in red cherry pie, her cherry red lips are full, puffy from being kissed, her deep brown eyes look lighter than usual, like little flickers of light dance behind them, and her hair, usually so slick, is messy with some flyaways, her buns looser than when she arrived.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Cherry Pie.”

Her dark brows lift. “Cherry Pie?”

“Yep. That’s what I’m going to call you from now on. Just like the song, you’re my Cherry Pie.” I dot a cherry blob on her nose with my finger, and she scrunches it up.

“Is that so?”

Then, her hand slaps a big chuck of cherry pie into the side of my head. She laughs at my expression, and before she sees it coming, I repay the favour. Then it’s on. Still buried inside her, as she straddles my lap, we have a fucking food fight. I smear gravy on her back, and she repays me with carrots, squashing them against my spine as I nip at her ear.

We are laughing so hard that I don’t hear the front door close or the approaching footsteps.

I do hear my mum’s shriek, though, and the sound of her suitcases crashing to the floor when she steps into the room. With Rhys straddling me as we sit naked on the granite breakfast bar, food smeared not just all over us but on the bench-top and floor too. My mum’s mouth drops open as she imitates a fish.

“Uh… Hi mum.”