Read Online The Autumn Diaries by Lexi Maxxwell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lexi Maxxwell
Tags: Erótica
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going to get it over that knob.
“It’s almost as if this faucet wasn’t meant to be shoved up a human ass,” Autumn said after fifteen minutes of surprisingly strenuous work. She was still naked but they’d both worked up a thin sweater of sweat from all the labor.
Autumn retrieved more tools, each more aggressive than the first. She felt like Bob Vila if Bob Vila were an ass doctor.
“GET ME OFF HERE, GODDAMMIT!” Vick shouted, still acting as if Autumn had gotten him into this situation.
“I can’t. You’re locked in. Maybe you need to be more turned on.”
Autumn realized that in a way, maybe it was her fault. She was the one who’d robbed him of two rather large loads of cum, after all. So she reached down and started stroking his dick, making it hard.
“I’m not in the mood for a fucking handjob!”
Vick’s cock was rock hard.
“Seriously!”
“Hey, I’m doing this for your own good,” Autumn said, stroking him harder and faster. She wiggled her head between the visible arm and leg and licked the tip, her tits squishing against the side of the tub.
Vick started to swat at her, pushing her away.
“Hey! Trying to help you here!” Autumn said.
“You got me into this! Get me out of this!”
“Hey, this is your fetish,” said Autumn, standing up and putting her hands on her hips.
“Get back down here and get me off this faucet, you fucking bitch!” he screamed.
Autumn cocked her head. “Really?” she said.
“GET ME OFF THIS FAUCET! GET DOWN HERE AND GET THIS OUT OF MY ASS, YOU CUNT!”
Autumn nodded. “Okay, I’ll get it out,” she said.
Autumn went to the front room, made a phone call, then returned to the bathroom and started putting her clothes back on.
“You called 911?” said Vick.
Autumn began to feel bad. Poor guy was stuck. She should be more understanding.
“I’M TALKING TO YOU, BITCH!” he yelled.
Nah, she understood plenty.
“They’ll be here soon,” she said.
On her way out, Autumn passed a van that had just pulled into the driveway. On the side in large red letters was “A1 Plumbing.” An advertisement on the van’s side offered ten-minute emergency plumbing, for those who had a sink spraying the kitchen, or maybe a faucet up their asses.
Two men got out of the truck and looked at Autumn, who hooked a thumb back toward the house.
“In the bathroom,” she said. “He’s having trouble getting off the tub faucet.”
As Autumn drove home, she found herself wondering if Vick would drive himself to the hospital or not, and whether he’d manage to get pants on.
Either way, the plumbing bill would surely be a bitch.
A P R I L 8
SAM INVITED ME TO HIS parents’ house for Easter. We went to church because they’re the kind of family that goes twice a year to keep God from getting pissed. It was fine. There was a lot of singing and I managed to keep my hands out from under my skirt for an hour, and nobody threw holy water on me or made the sign of the cross.
This was only the second time I’ve met Sam’s parents, and the first time didn’t count because they were leaving Applebee’s when we were arriving. He’s been telling them about me, which is really flattering, but I he’s telling them any of the stuff I’m telling my family. Well, Celeste, anyway, who is hardly fazed since she sells pussy.
Short version here is that I found myself getting pleased by the fact that my guy would take me home for Easter and, because I don’t seem to have a normal woman’s biology, found myself immediately wet. There’s pretty much nothing that doesn’t get me wet, I’ve realized. I seem to have conditioned myself to get wet at just about anything. If we were going to a football game, I’d think of those guys on the field with tight bodies in tight pants and get wet. If we went to a physics lecture, I’d start thinking about the dynamics of Sam’s hard, straight vector
“It’s almost as if this faucet wasn’t meant to be shoved up a human ass,” Autumn said after fifteen minutes of surprisingly strenuous work. She was still naked but they’d both worked up a thin sweater of sweat from all the labor.
Autumn retrieved more tools, each more aggressive than the first. She felt like Bob Vila if Bob Vila were an ass doctor.
“GET ME OFF HERE, GODDAMMIT!” Vick shouted, still acting as if Autumn had gotten him into this situation.
“I can’t. You’re locked in. Maybe you need to be more turned on.”
Autumn realized that in a way, maybe it was her fault. She was the one who’d robbed him of two rather large loads of cum, after all. So she reached down and started stroking his dick, making it hard.
“I’m not in the mood for a fucking handjob!”
Vick’s cock was rock hard.
“Seriously!”
“Hey, I’m doing this for your own good,” Autumn said, stroking him harder and faster. She wiggled her head between the visible arm and leg and licked the tip, her tits squishing against the side of the tub.
Vick started to swat at her, pushing her away.
“Hey! Trying to help you here!” Autumn said.
“You got me into this! Get me out of this!”
“Hey, this is your fetish,” said Autumn, standing up and putting her hands on her hips.
“Get back down here and get me off this faucet, you fucking bitch!” he screamed.
Autumn cocked her head. “Really?” she said.
“GET ME OFF THIS FAUCET! GET DOWN HERE AND GET THIS OUT OF MY ASS, YOU CUNT!”
Autumn nodded. “Okay, I’ll get it out,” she said.
Autumn went to the front room, made a phone call, then returned to the bathroom and started putting her clothes back on.
“You called 911?” said Vick.
Autumn began to feel bad. Poor guy was stuck. She should be more understanding.
“I’M TALKING TO YOU, BITCH!” he yelled.
Nah, she understood plenty.
“They’ll be here soon,” she said.
On her way out, Autumn passed a van that had just pulled into the driveway. On the side in large red letters was “A1 Plumbing.” An advertisement on the van’s side offered ten-minute emergency plumbing, for those who had a sink spraying the kitchen, or maybe a faucet up their asses.
Two men got out of the truck and looked at Autumn, who hooked a thumb back toward the house.
“In the bathroom,” she said. “He’s having trouble getting off the tub faucet.”
As Autumn drove home, she found herself wondering if Vick would drive himself to the hospital or not, and whether he’d manage to get pants on.
Either way, the plumbing bill would surely be a bitch.
A P R I L 8
SAM INVITED ME TO HIS parents’ house for Easter. We went to church because they’re the kind of family that goes twice a year to keep God from getting pissed. It was fine. There was a lot of singing and I managed to keep my hands out from under my skirt for an hour, and nobody threw holy water on me or made the sign of the cross.
This was only the second time I’ve met Sam’s parents, and the first time didn’t count because they were leaving Applebee’s when we were arriving. He’s been telling them about me, which is really flattering, but I he’s telling them any of the stuff I’m telling my family. Well, Celeste, anyway, who is hardly fazed since she sells pussy.
Short version here is that I found myself getting pleased by the fact that my guy would take me home for Easter and, because I don’t seem to have a normal woman’s biology, found myself immediately wet. There’s pretty much nothing that doesn’t get me wet, I’ve realized. I seem to have conditioned myself to get wet at just about anything. If we were going to a football game, I’d think of those guys on the field with tight bodies in tight pants and get wet. If we went to a physics lecture, I’d start thinking about the dynamics of Sam’s hard, straight vector
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