standing at the foot of the bed.
“Check-up about six months ago and no one since then. Your call.”
“Trip,” said Marisa popping up on her elbows. “Do I look like I give a fuck?,” she spat with a smile. She sat up, grabbed his hands, and pulled him towards her naked body.
“Yes, ma’am,” Trip said, his smile evident from his tone even though his face was buried in her breast. Trip’s mouth found her right breast and his tongue caressed her nipple. Marisa arched her back to press into him more. His hands greedily explored her body, as he slid down her quickly and was once again standing at the end of the bed. He knelt slowly, dragging his hands down her body. He lifted her right leg, gently kissed the bone on the inside of her ankle and worked his way upwards. When he reached her apex, he retreated, taking her left leg and repeating his path.
Trip grabbed Marisa’s ankles and pushed them toward her hips, exposing her to him and the Mississippi River that slid by in the darkness outside. Without letting go, he ran his tongue down Marisa’s sensitive parts. Marisa let out a moan, emanating from deep within her body. Marisa moved her hands from over her head and reached down to touch Trip’s blonde head that was burrowed in her. As soon as her hands grazed his scalp, he moved them next to her ankles and held her firm. She was pinned and completely bare to him.
He entered her swiftly and her breath caught as he filled her. A few sure deep thrusts and he released her from his grasps. He fell towards her, catching himself in a hover a few inches above her face. Marisa brought her face up to meet his. She consumed him with a kiss and wrapped her limbs around his torso. They moved as a single being. All grunts, and moans, and occasional giggles of pleasure bursting through to the surface.
Chapter Eleven
I’m so dizzy and I think I’m going to throw up. How much did I drink? Marisa’s first thoughts of the day were blurry, and her head hurt. She extended her hand in search of her favorite down pillow, intending to snuggle with it until the world made sense. Her fingers found an arm. Shit! Marisa’s eyes flew up and she shot to a sitting position. What the fuck? Oh God. Oh God. Trip Brannon. Fuck. Marisa hit full panic mode. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. I didn’t have sex with Trip. No no no no. Denial mode ended. She had to leave. What was I thinking? How much did I drink? Marisa clumsily stood, wrapped a quilt around herself and began a frantic search for her clothes and shoes. She looked anxiously at Trip, who was comatose. Please let him stay asleep. Do not wake up, Trip. Keep sleeping . Never in her life had Marisa hoped that mind control would work.
She located her panties, bra, and dress. She bundled them in her arms and continued to hunt for her shoes. Shit! Marisa nearly tripped over a strappy gold sandal. Please don’t wake up. Please don’t wake up. She repeated her new mantra as she looked for her other shoe. She found it sticking out from underneath Trip’s dresser. Marisa didn’t even want to think about how it ended up there. She just wanted to leave as quickly and silently as possible. She slipped out of the bedroom and dressed quickly in the hallway, trying to make as little sound as possible. She left the quilt where she’d dressed. Like hell I’m going back in there. My luck I’d trip over my own feet and wake him up. She snuck down the staircase and out the front door, closing it slowly and quietly behind her. On Trip’s front porch, she let out all the air she’d been holding. She slipped on her sandals, and as the warm summer sun made its appearance, she began her walk home, utterly consumed by her thoughts.
Great. I’m doing the walk of shame in my own friggin’ neighborhood. Can’t wait for the neighbors to
“Check-up about six months ago and no one since then. Your call.”
“Trip,” said Marisa popping up on her elbows. “Do I look like I give a fuck?,” she spat with a smile. She sat up, grabbed his hands, and pulled him towards her naked body.
“Yes, ma’am,” Trip said, his smile evident from his tone even though his face was buried in her breast. Trip’s mouth found her right breast and his tongue caressed her nipple. Marisa arched her back to press into him more. His hands greedily explored her body, as he slid down her quickly and was once again standing at the end of the bed. He knelt slowly, dragging his hands down her body. He lifted her right leg, gently kissed the bone on the inside of her ankle and worked his way upwards. When he reached her apex, he retreated, taking her left leg and repeating his path.
Trip grabbed Marisa’s ankles and pushed them toward her hips, exposing her to him and the Mississippi River that slid by in the darkness outside. Without letting go, he ran his tongue down Marisa’s sensitive parts. Marisa let out a moan, emanating from deep within her body. Marisa moved her hands from over her head and reached down to touch Trip’s blonde head that was burrowed in her. As soon as her hands grazed his scalp, he moved them next to her ankles and held her firm. She was pinned and completely bare to him.
He entered her swiftly and her breath caught as he filled her. A few sure deep thrusts and he released her from his grasps. He fell towards her, catching himself in a hover a few inches above her face. Marisa brought her face up to meet his. She consumed him with a kiss and wrapped her limbs around his torso. They moved as a single being. All grunts, and moans, and occasional giggles of pleasure bursting through to the surface.
Chapter Eleven
I’m so dizzy and I think I’m going to throw up. How much did I drink? Marisa’s first thoughts of the day were blurry, and her head hurt. She extended her hand in search of her favorite down pillow, intending to snuggle with it until the world made sense. Her fingers found an arm. Shit! Marisa’s eyes flew up and she shot to a sitting position. What the fuck? Oh God. Oh God. Trip Brannon. Fuck. Marisa hit full panic mode. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. I didn’t have sex with Trip. No no no no. Denial mode ended. She had to leave. What was I thinking? How much did I drink? Marisa clumsily stood, wrapped a quilt around herself and began a frantic search for her clothes and shoes. She looked anxiously at Trip, who was comatose. Please let him stay asleep. Do not wake up, Trip. Keep sleeping . Never in her life had Marisa hoped that mind control would work.
She located her panties, bra, and dress. She bundled them in her arms and continued to hunt for her shoes. Shit! Marisa nearly tripped over a strappy gold sandal. Please don’t wake up. Please don’t wake up. She repeated her new mantra as she looked for her other shoe. She found it sticking out from underneath Trip’s dresser. Marisa didn’t even want to think about how it ended up there. She just wanted to leave as quickly and silently as possible. She slipped out of the bedroom and dressed quickly in the hallway, trying to make as little sound as possible. She left the quilt where she’d dressed. Like hell I’m going back in there. My luck I’d trip over my own feet and wake him up. She snuck down the staircase and out the front door, closing it slowly and quietly behind her. On Trip’s front porch, she let out all the air she’d been holding. She slipped on her sandals, and as the warm summer sun made its appearance, she began her walk home, utterly consumed by her thoughts.
Great. I’m doing the walk of shame in my own friggin’ neighborhood. Can’t wait for the neighbors to
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