15. The Great Dickening

15

THE GREAT DICKENING

LILA

“ I want to fuck,” I say, cringing at how brazen I sound.

I know I should be thinking about the consequences. I know I should have more respect for myself than to fuck the guy who broke my heart, but he’s saying all the right things, and I…I want to give him a second chance. Maybe it’s the fucking chocolate talking for all I know. As much as I want to stay away from him, I can’t. I’m skydiving without a goddamn parachute and expecting to fall into a body of water instead of on the hard concrete.

My cunt aches, my legs feel numb from exertion, and my head’s the consistency of thinly stretched cotton candy. I have no idea if my body will even last a full session, but I want to help Bristol feel good. I want to witness the ecstasy on his face when he comes; I want to feel the warm rush of cum as he fills my pussy to the brim; I want to hear my name jump from his tongue in the form of a moan. And I want him to hold me afterwards like he used to until we both fall asleep feeling loved .

Bristol licks his teeth, looking about as torn as I feel. “You’re…sure?”

Doubt tugs at my gut, cramping it with a nausea I’ve tasted a thousand times before. My emotions are too all over the place to make a sane decision right now. My hormones, however, have no trouble taking the wheel, and an itty-bitty, irrational part of me hopes that this could be the first step in rebuilding things between us.

I sip in a timid breath, suddenly regretting being so straightforward. “I mean, we don’t have to. I don’t want to…I don’t want to pressure you or anything.”

Girl! What are you doing? Where’s the badass Lila who walks over men like they’re fashionable animal hide rugs?

Bristol—with his floppy hair and ridiculously muscular physique—hurls out a chuckle, metamorphosizing the nerves in my belly into full-fledged butterflies. “Are you serious, Lils? Do I look like I don’t want to?” he asks, gesturing to the third member making this two-person party a crowd.

I have no idea how I have anything left in me, but wetness grows between my legs, accompanied by a painful pressure that festers right behind my navel. “I just…” My voice becomes impossibly quiet, all my tenacity dying a swift death.

“Hey.” Bristol reaches out to caress my face, the pads of his fingers soft in juxtaposition to the countless callouses that litter the palms of his hands. “I’m on board with whatever you want to do, okay? I’d enjoy myself even if we sat in complete silence and stared at the ceiling. I just enjoy being around you.”

If I wasn’t so horned-up right now, I’d probably be crying. I lean into his hand, and everything feels natural. Everything feels right .

I enjoy being around you too, believe it or not.

I don’t know why I can’t say it to his face. And no, it’s not an ego thing. It’s an I-don’t-know-what-kind-of-disaster-will-occur-if-I-utter-those-words kind of thing. So I keep my lips closed, deadbolt my heart, and climb on top of him.

Bristol lies flat on his back, resting his hands on my hips and staring at me with a look that would’ve stripped me bare if I still had any clothes on. His barrel chest rises quickly, his dark lashes shade the warm brown of his eyes, and his dick’s rocking a steel helmet in his pants right now. It’s distracting. Well, everything about him is distracting. His mouth still shines with my cum, and the insides of my thighs are in the same state.

“How badly do you want to fuck me?” I purr, running my manicured nail down his chest and through the winding valleys of his abs.

Bristol groans, bucking his hips against my pussy, which has sped through “classily wet” and completely blown into “shamelessly leaking” territory.

“You want me to beg, angel?”

I nod, doing everything in my power to keep my hands only above his waistline.

“You have no idea how long I’ve dreamt of this. How long I’ve dreamt of slamming my fat cock inside that perfect, tight cunt of yours again. Fuck. You haunt me, Lila. You haunt me every second of every day. Your laugh, your smile, the way your pussy squeezes around my dick when you come. I need to be inside you. I’ll do anything you want,” he confesses, his fingers curling into my sides.

Lust ferments inside me, muddying any and all thought, and it douses me in a fresh film of sweat. His swim trunks need to come off in the next minute or I won’t hesitate to rip them from his goddamn body. “Tell me how good of a boy you’ve been.”

He throws his head back against the pillow, throat bulging with an anxious swallow. “I’ve been such a good boy,” he whimpers. “I’ve been so patient. You have no idea how hard it’s been for me to control myself around you.”

“You’ve been doing a pretty terrible job.”

“Like I said, things have been… hard .”

Oh, I’ve noticed on more than a few occasions .

“Do you think about me when you’re jerking off?” I ask.

“For the last year, you’re the only thing I think about when my hand’s on my cock, angel. I think about how fucking subpar it is compared to that incredible mouth of yours. I think about you, on your knees, looking up at me while you take my dick down your throat.”

I start to slide the hem of his trunks down. “Yeah?”

He shivers. “Yeah. Oh— fuck .”

It doesn’t take much maneuvering to get the offending material out of the way, and when I do, his angry, ruddy cock springs out, slapping against his stomach and ricocheting slightly from its heavy weight. My mouth waters on sight. I don’t know why I imagined his dick would shrink after we stopped seeing each other, but I’m happily reminded just how big it still is. It’s a good thing I’m lubed up, otherwise he’d rip me apart from the inside out.

I run an exploratory finger up his length, following a dominant vein that sticks out prominently. “You like when I choke on how big you are? You like when I’m a dripping mess around your cock?”

He stares down at my teasing hand, clenching his teeth so tightly that a grunt turns into a growl, and the dip of his belly flexes. “ I love it . I love it so fucking much. You’re so beautiful when you gag around me. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

When I get to the dripping tip, I smear his pre-cum around with the pad of my finger, glossing the head in a fine layer of arousal. “You want to come down my throat, Bristol?” I taunt, earning a twitch from his dick that confirms he’s more than okay with my proposition.

I can smell the natural musk of him from here, and I can practically taste him flooding my throat. The lower half of him is neatly trimmed, but then again, he’s never been a super hairy person. He’s attractively hygienic—you know, in the sense that he uses actual shampoo and conditioner rather than a 2-in-1. He takes care of his body, and it shows. Oh, it shows alright.

I’m loving the position I have him in right now, but the tightening of his grip on my waist is the first warning sign that things are about to head south. His throat vibrates with a deep, low noise, and he flips me onto my back effortlessly, analyzing me with dark, predatory eyes that make my drenched pussy throb.

He’s on all fours above me while his mess of tousled locks hangs down in his face, his dick dragging over my clit and dangling between his thighs like an imposing force.

“No, Lila,” he rasps, his tone tinged with possessiveness. “I want to come in your cunt, and I want to watch you stain the sheets.”

I freeze, the sincerity of his words striking bone-deep, the nakedness of my body (and the metaphorical nakedness of my current position) rendering me helpless underneath his strong arms. I’m silent on the outside, but on the inside, my vagina is ecstatic to be getting another man-made orgasm in the span of a single night. Goodbye, Melvin! Hello, Bristol.

Bristol leans down to kiss the shelf of my collarbone. “Say the words,” he demands. “And I’ll fuck you as hard as you want.”

I arch my spine against the bed as my nails seek purchase in his toned back, digging little grooves to keep me anchored. His lips tickle my neck, and I can feel them curve with a satisfied grin.

I’m already feeling dizzy, and we haven’t even done anything yet. Dear God. I’ll be done for by the time he’s finished.

“What? No safe word?” I joke.

“Good idea. What were you thinking?”

“I was just kidding. We’ve never needed one before. We don’t need one now.”

“Oh, we’ll definitely need one now. ”

Bad Bitch Lila’s popped in to make a quick appearance, and she so kindly states, “I’ll die before I ever use a safe word with you.”

Did I regret those words the minute they left my mouth? Yes. Will I let Bristol know that? Absolutely not.

“Yeah?” He laughs, lining himself up with my entrance, those stocky thighs of his looking like twin mountains bookending either side of my hips.

“Mm-hm,” I mumble with no conviction whatsoever.

When he bows his mouth back down to my throat, he drags it to the swell of my tit and suckles a hickey into the flesh, perfecting an adequate bruise that I know is about to make the next few days a living hell for me.

“We’ll see about that,” he rumbles, nipping playfully at me with his teeth. “Not that you’ll need to use it, but just say ‘chocolate’ if you want me to stop.”

Before I can veto that ridiculous suggestion, Bristol drills his cock into me, pushing past my inner ring of muscle in one quick motion to dull the pressure. I muffle a cry, feeling my pussy stretch to its limits. The initial breach hurts like a bitch, and all I do is cling to him, burrowing my face into his neck while he buries his length to the hilt. Not only have I not been fucked in a year, but the only thing I’ve fucked myself with is half of Bristol’s goddamn size.

“You’re okay. You’re alright, angel,” he whispers, stilling his entire body as he waits for me to give him the go-ahead.

Heat ensnares my limbs as I panic about the eight-inch monster currently inside me, but when I eventually let Bristol out of my death grip, I’m reminded of the gentle, caring guy he is. The gentle, caring guy who always puts my needs before his.

I unstick my tongue from my mouth. “I’m okay.”

“Do you want me to start moving?”

I take a second to adjust myself, slackening my muscles so the tension doesn’t hinder him, and I breathe out every worry that visits me before a good dickening. Like a Ghost of Christmas Copulation, if you so will.

I finally nod, and Bristol’s arms begin to shake as he starts a measured pace, rutting his hips into me and accentuating the sound of skin on skin. I can feel the head of his cock brush my cervix, and I gush profusely onto his length, glad that he’s so deep inside me he can’t see how insanely aroused I am. I keep my feet on the bed because I’m too afraid to wrap them around his body, but my nails stay embedded in his shoulder blades, one rough move from drawing blood.

His ball sack taps my ass with every stroke, and my lungs deplete of air while he abuses my pussy, gaining momentum to prod his cock against my guts. “Fuck, Lils. Fuuuck. You feel so perfect. Soaking every inch of me, and I’ve barely even done anything yet. Kept this greedy pussy nice and wet for me, yeah?”

Cinders mature into fire, and before I know it, my whole body is aflame from Bristol’s punishing thrusts, so pleasurable that pain consumes me like a gasoline-fed inferno. Everything is charred, and the bane of my destruction is the first thing to make me feel anything aside from gnawing hopelessness.

“Just for you,” I moan, not caring how loud I am.

Surprisingly, his voice overlays mine in volume, practically shaking the walls with the force of his own moan. The slick between my legs triples, and I begin to bear down on him, my breasts bouncing with each lurch of my body. He takes one hand and palms my tit, torquing my nipple with his fingers to get me to tick like a waiting time bomb. My mouth falls open in a series of high-pitched mewls, now competing with the viscous soundtrack of his cock sliding in and out of my cunt, and my eyes flush with tears the rougher he gets.

“Faster,” I order, so high on endorphins that stars begin to speckle my vision. “Need…faster. ”

“Yeah? Is that what my good girl needs?”

I don’t get a word in before Bristol’s plows become nearly unbearable, working me so hard and fast that my legs are already sore. His cock—now primed with my cum—slips against my walls without resistance, extinguishing the fire inside me and leaving me with a comforting warmth. I’ve never felt this heat with anyone before. I’ve only ever felt it with Bristol. It can flare in times of tension, but it can also crackle and soothe in times of distress. And I may have let it burn me in the past, but this time is going to be different.

It has to be.

His fingers are still on my breast, kneading, pinching, driving me up the goddamn wall. I feel my head shift against the pillow and hear the headboard bang against the wall, but I’m so overwhelmed that the state of our environment hardly occupies any brain space. His hand slowly trails down my torso, halting at my lower abdomen and pressing down firmly. I squirm uncontrollably as my spine curves off the mattress, my nails finally breaking through the skin on his back.

With how much I’m quivering, I’m surprised my words aren’t an incoherent mess. “Oh, God. Oh, Bristol. It feels so good!”

He doesn’t falter. He hasn’t faltered at all, actually. I blame his stupid hockey stamina.

Exhaustion prowls on the outside of my peripheral, slowly closing in, but I breathe through the exertion and the sweat and the tears, taking the full extent of him. His dick flirts with my G-spot, and my pussy reciprocates his urgency with a stream that previews the floodgates waiting to open. I’m almost there. I can see peace on the horizon, cresting in a golden sheen, waiting to saturate the sky in an array of sepia tones.

“I know, angel. You’re doing so well. Can’t wait to fill this pretty pussy up. My pretty pussy,” he drawls, undulating his hips, every muscle exquisitely detailed underneath the mood lighting like an Alexandre Cabanel painting.

I can barely hear our voices over the mixing of our arousals, over the underlying pants, over the lap of water below us. The pressure that’s been accumulating this entire time is close to overspilling, and the heat inside me intensifies into another fire—but this one is stronger, lasting, more persistent than the one that existed before.

I squeeze around a particularly rough pump, and Bristol’s arm shoots out to steady himself against the headboard. I finally see the first signs of fatigue wear down his shoulders, see the briny sweat dot his hairline, see the way his belly sucks in with each deep inhale. He’s just as close as I am.

“When I come inside you, you’re going to keep it in,” Bristol says gruffly, still bucking his cock into my cunt like he didn’t just give me the most impossible task in the world.

“What?” I breathe.

His teeth stay gritted, his biceps so strained that each protruding vein forms a topography of little rivers. “If any of it trickles out, I’m spanking you. Do you understand?”

I feel my head nod, giddy at the possibility of getting his handprint tattooed on my ass. Everything’s a blur. His head is nuzzled against my neck, and his dick is ruining me with a never-ending succession of hungry strokes. Tears finally wet my eyes—clumping on my lower lashes—and I’m spurting onto his cock before I realize my climax has even arrived. I cry out Bristol’s name in pure bliss, holding on to him like he’s the only person in the world who possesses the power to save me. He’s crashing right after me, roaring through his orgasm and spraying long, thick ropes of cum inside me.

Bristol rests the lower half of his body on me, so completely spent that he’s huffing for air and trying to regain his bearings. His cock softens inside me, and everything feels so good that I don’t want him to pull out just yet. I don’t want him to stop touching me.

He lifts his head to look me in the eyes, and slick strands of his hair are pasted to his forehead. Even while sweaty and spent, he still looks achingly handsome. “Are you okay?”

I have no idea how he flips that dominant switch of his so easily, but there’s no evidence of that guttural roughness in his tone anymore. All that exists is concern, compassion, and an equally sexy hoarseness from the straining of his vocal cords.

“Yeah,” I answer on an exhale, feeling the room spin.

Bristol slowly lowers the rest of his body onto me, and he knocks his forehead against the side of my cheek. “You were amazing, you know that? You’re always amazing.”

Delirium seems to instill itself in both of us, but mine works a tad bit faster as it crystallizes in my veins. We stay like this for a long, calm, silent period of time, and when Bristol does eventually pull out of me, his cum has cooled and congealed.

The absence of him hurts, hollows me out with a pick, and our combination of cum sullies the sheets.

Bristol looks down with a shake of his head. “What did I say?”

My traitorous, traitorous pussy loves the authority in his tone. “I…”

“Turn around. On your hands and knees,” he commands.

Still recovering from the best sex I’ve ever had, I had forgotten all about that little rule he made up before he blew the hinges off this whole fucking place.

I do as he says while arousal drips down the backs of my legs, and my fingers grab fistfuls of the sheets, anticipation stirring the flame deep in my stomach. I know I should hate being this submissive, but a dominant girl can appreciate a switch up, alright?

He doesn’t spank me immediately. He draws it out until my thighs start to tremble, and he traces the length of my spine with his finger, the other hand planted firmly on the side of my ass.

His nails drive into my flesh—probably as some form of revenge for fucking up his back. “You remember our safe word?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to say it?”

“No.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have an attitude problem?” he quips.

I snort. “Nobody that wasn’t big enough to handle it.”

“Angel, I think I just proved to you I’m big enough to handle it.”

“How about you do less talking and more spanking?”

A single hit. Barely powered, just enough to sting the skin. He’s going easy on me. I don’t even wince.

“I thought you were going to give me a real punishment,” I tease, turning my head sideways so I can see him in my periphery.

He growls something inhuman, so deep and powerful that I feel it reverberate through me. This time, his hand comes down and properly smacks me, nearly unbalancing me in the process. I jam my molars down on each other, swallowing back a whimper.

“Is this real enough for you? Or do you need another attitude check?”

Bristol spanks me again, and the noise is so loud that it rings in my eardrums right after it bounces off every flat surface in the vicinity. He doesn’t give me a reprieve. I let out a moan before I can stop myself, loving the possessiveness that bewitches him, loving the fact that he’s gaining as much satisfaction from this as I am. Jesus. I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow, and I’m probably going to have a hand-shaped bruise on my butt. It feels like he bruised my pussy too. Is that possible? Can dick be that good?

My butt aches from the force of his hand after he finishes, and it’s no doubt redder than a fire hydrant. He brings me into his arms instantly, plies me with so many kisses that they start to tickle, and then transforms from a grizzly bear into a soft teddy bear. He’s got me in a spooning position while he snuggles against me, the perfect height to let me feel the pounding of his heart that mysteriously seems to quicken in my presence.

“I don’t want to wake up from this dream,” he whispers against the shell of my ear, seconds away from drifting off to sleep.

Moisture rides my waterlines, and I wish it was because of the spanking. “Neither do I.”