every inch of her. But now that her tongue was in my mouth, and her soft breasts were squashed against me, I was consumed by an uncontrollable haste. I wanted all of her at once.
She helped me out of my shirt, and expertly whipped off my belt. I moved to remove her dress, but she batted my hands away, pushing me down on the bed. She pulled off my pants and boxer briefs, pausing to smile at my jutting cock. Then she climbed on top of me, taking control, sucking my nipples and running a flicking tongue down my stomach. Before I could protest, she had my cock deep in her mouth, keeping me completely immersed, denying me the chance to slow the pace. The pressure built quickly, and I tried to buck her off, worried I’d soon embarrassed myself. But her lips were locked tight, and she put a firm hand on my chest to hold me down. I threw my head back in surrender, and at once I was in the thralls of a violent, shuddering climax.
Lucy slid off the bed and went straight to the bathroom. I lay motionless, unable to speak. As the euphoria subsided, feelings of shame and inadequacy crept in. I’d barely lasted a minute.
When Lucy returned from the bathroom, I apologized for my lack of self-control.
“No, that was my apology,” she said. “For being such a bitch the last time.”
“But…don’t you want to make love?“
She laughed. “You mean fuck? Don’t worry, we’re not leaving yet. You’re a young man Johnny. I’m sure you’ve got another round left in you.”
She stepped out of her dress, proudly showing off her shapely body and shaved pussy. She lay down next to me, and we stared at the cracked ceiling for a while, listening to the unfamiliar rhythm of each other’s breathing. It didn’t take long for my cock to start twitching again, and when I rolled over and entered her, she immediately arched up against me, her hips perfectly simulating mine. She dug her nails into my back and told me to let go, to fuck her deeper and harder. My cock felt electric inside her, and with every thrust, I felt myself transforming. I was no longer Peter , the average white male whose name everyone forgot. I was a stud who could make a woman like Lucy quiver and groan. A man to be reckoned with.
There was never any doubt our motel trysts would become a regular thing. Lucy was insatiable, and I was happy to cede to her many desires. She liked me to hold her throat when she was on top, scolding me if I was too gentle. She liked to wear stilettos and spread her palms against the wall when I took her from behind. She liked to put on VH1 and give me long, sensual lap dances that made my cock so damn hard it hurt. And when I was spent or recovering, she liked to grind her pussy against my face to speed things along. She was incredible, a force of nature, and best of all, it was me she wanted. My confidence went through the roof. Being the object of Lucy’s desire felt like the first round of applause my life had received.
I would’ve happily met up every day, but Lucy couldn’t get away so easily, usually only once or twice a week. The main problem was her husband, Sterling. According to Lucy, Sterling had been intensely jealous ever since he swiped her phone and discovered a series of lewd texts from a crazy ex. The texts had been unsolicited, and she hadn’t responded, but that hadn’t stopped Sterling from confiscating her cell and treating her like a grounded teenager. Given her husband’s paranoia, Lucy had to be particularly careful not to rouse suspicion.
There was also the small matter of Sterling’s kids – all four of them. The eldest two were away at college, but they would frequently drop in to raid the fridge and sponge money off their father. And the youngest two, at fourteen and ten, were often dumped on Lucy without warning by Sterling’s first wife, a diagnosed manic-depressive. Even if Sterling wasn’t around, Lucy felt compelled to help out, fearing the ex-wife would do something foolish and the kids would
She helped me out of my shirt, and expertly whipped off my belt. I moved to remove her dress, but she batted my hands away, pushing me down on the bed. She pulled off my pants and boxer briefs, pausing to smile at my jutting cock. Then she climbed on top of me, taking control, sucking my nipples and running a flicking tongue down my stomach. Before I could protest, she had my cock deep in her mouth, keeping me completely immersed, denying me the chance to slow the pace. The pressure built quickly, and I tried to buck her off, worried I’d soon embarrassed myself. But her lips were locked tight, and she put a firm hand on my chest to hold me down. I threw my head back in surrender, and at once I was in the thralls of a violent, shuddering climax.
Lucy slid off the bed and went straight to the bathroom. I lay motionless, unable to speak. As the euphoria subsided, feelings of shame and inadequacy crept in. I’d barely lasted a minute.
When Lucy returned from the bathroom, I apologized for my lack of self-control.
“No, that was my apology,” she said. “For being such a bitch the last time.”
“But…don’t you want to make love?“
She laughed. “You mean fuck? Don’t worry, we’re not leaving yet. You’re a young man Johnny. I’m sure you’ve got another round left in you.”
She stepped out of her dress, proudly showing off her shapely body and shaved pussy. She lay down next to me, and we stared at the cracked ceiling for a while, listening to the unfamiliar rhythm of each other’s breathing. It didn’t take long for my cock to start twitching again, and when I rolled over and entered her, she immediately arched up against me, her hips perfectly simulating mine. She dug her nails into my back and told me to let go, to fuck her deeper and harder. My cock felt electric inside her, and with every thrust, I felt myself transforming. I was no longer Peter , the average white male whose name everyone forgot. I was a stud who could make a woman like Lucy quiver and groan. A man to be reckoned with.
There was never any doubt our motel trysts would become a regular thing. Lucy was insatiable, and I was happy to cede to her many desires. She liked me to hold her throat when she was on top, scolding me if I was too gentle. She liked to wear stilettos and spread her palms against the wall when I took her from behind. She liked to put on VH1 and give me long, sensual lap dances that made my cock so damn hard it hurt. And when I was spent or recovering, she liked to grind her pussy against my face to speed things along. She was incredible, a force of nature, and best of all, it was me she wanted. My confidence went through the roof. Being the object of Lucy’s desire felt like the first round of applause my life had received.
I would’ve happily met up every day, but Lucy couldn’t get away so easily, usually only once or twice a week. The main problem was her husband, Sterling. According to Lucy, Sterling had been intensely jealous ever since he swiped her phone and discovered a series of lewd texts from a crazy ex. The texts had been unsolicited, and she hadn’t responded, but that hadn’t stopped Sterling from confiscating her cell and treating her like a grounded teenager. Given her husband’s paranoia, Lucy had to be particularly careful not to rouse suspicion.
There was also the small matter of Sterling’s kids – all four of them. The eldest two were away at college, but they would frequently drop in to raid the fridge and sponge money off their father. And the youngest two, at fourteen and ten, were often dumped on Lucy without warning by Sterling’s first wife, a diagnosed manic-depressive. Even if Sterling wasn’t around, Lucy felt compelled to help out, fearing the ex-wife would do something foolish and the kids would
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