“Do it for me. Make me know how much I please you,” he said, which only set things into motion even more.
My arms getting tired, I kept going, not giving up, as I could feel the orgasm sitting there on the edge, wondering if it should come or not. All I knew was that I was ready for it, and I wasn’t about to give up, no matter how much my arms burned.
He licked his thumb again before beginning to rub me faster, with a little more pressure, as that unsure orgasm was now very sure, and very much available to come at a moment’s notice.
“Yes!” I screamed as I tried to keep myself upright.
It surged, Bentley not stopping what he was doing, as I felt my pussy tighten up around his cock. My clit a little enlarged, I pushed myself forward as I felt the orgasm begin to subside, the warmth overcoming my body and making me sweat a little as I gasped for air.
“Why are you so good?” I asked, laughing a little at the end of my question.
“And to think that we aren’t even done,” he said, smiling.
Giving me a break, he rolled me over, his dick staying inside me the entire time, before he pulled my ass to the edge of the bed, my legs against his shoulders, as he spit down below for lube before beginning to fuck me once again.
I was ready for it, for him, to be all over me once again. I wanted to know, and to see, that I made him so turned on and so happy that he sprayed my stomach and chest and gave me a visual clue to just how happy and turned on I made him.
With Bentley left to his own devices, it didn’t take all that long for that to happen, as his balls slapped against my ass with each and every quick thrust. I could see the change in his face, in his demeanor, as his breathing became shallow and his face a little red. Without much wait, he pulled out, ripping off the condom, before jerking himself and walking in closer, my legs still spread apart.
He let out a few moans, before I saw, and felt, the first spray of many, as his warm, white cum shot all over my stomach, even making it up to the tops of my tits. There was something so satisfying about it, and as his flow stopped, his heart beating a mile a minute, I looked at him, really looked at him, and knew that I couldn’t ever lose all this. There was a lot more than sex involved, but I needed everything and I wasn’t going to let a potentially awkward first meeting with his parents stop that.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Anna
The sun shined bright through the windows as Bentley and I woke up, both of us stretching a little, before his arm went over my side and pulled me in closer. We looked at each other, smiling a little, as I tried to hold my morning breath in so that he wouldn’t smell it, not that he’d probably even care.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Good morning,” I replied.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“I could eat,” I said.
“I don’t want to go out anywhere, but I could make us something here. I went shopping,” he said.
“That sounds nice. Maybe we can take a shower later? What time do we have to be there?” I asked.
“Noon,” he said.
“Well, it’s already past nine, so we should start getting moving,” I said.
Bentley got up out of bed, his bare ass out before he put on some black sleeping pants and shuffled out of the room and down towards the kitchen. I sat up, the blankets against my bare chest, before looking around for my shirt, not seeing anything. I kept forgetting to bring spare clothes to leave here.
I got up out of bed and looked in his drawer, seeing an old graphic tee, before slipping it on and putting on a pair of shorts he had lying about. I walked downstairs, hearing the refrigerator door close, before I turned around the corner and caught him looking at me.
“Wow,” he said, smiling.
“I know I just went through your drawer, I hope it’s okay,” I said.
“Okay? It’s more than okay. There’s nothing sexier than seeing you in my shirt,” he said.
“And what about the shorts?” I asked.
“Turn around,” he said.
“Your ass looks much better in them than mine,” he said.
“Oh please, you have such a nice ass for a guy,” I said, walking behind him and wrapping my arms around him.
“How do you want your eggs?” he asked.
“Scrambled is fine,” I said.
“Good, because I was already making those,” he said, pouring them into a hot pan.
I heard them sizzle before I let go and went to make some toast as he whipped together some pancake batter. Here he was, treating me and doing all of that while I just made toast, and would likely burn it. I really needed to get my household skills in order if I was ever going to keep up with him. Maybe I could rent a book from the library or watch a YouTube video on it.
“How many pancakes?” he asked.
“Two or three, depending how big they are,” I said.
“Got it,” he replied.
I put in the toast before getting some plates and silverware out and ready on the counter for us. He had some microwaveable bacon, not exactly as good as the fresh stuff, but still better than no bacon at all. I was sure that bacon was life, and I thought he felt the same way. I almost wanted to get a piece of it on a string for around my neck in case I ever experienced withdrawal.
As he finished with the pancakes, putting them on a plate next to the plate with the eggs, I started the bacon in the microwave. It only took about thirty seconds, and he took out the toast as it sat waiting in the toaster. I blotted some of the grease off the bacon after taking it out and walked over to the plates, where I set it down. Instead of trying to take everything to the table, we made our own plates right there on the counter, and then walked over together to the table, before he went back to get the orange juice and water.
I slathered some whipped butter on my pancakes, coating them, before cutting them up into little pieces like a kid and dripping pure maple syrup all over them like a fiend. I even went so far as to dip my bacon in the syrup for an extra treat, as Bentley laughed and shook his head. What can I say? I’m a special girl.
“So, are you in the wedding? I forgot,” I asked.
“No, fortunately I’m not. I had to be in one once, when I was a teenager, and I hated it. I think I do better in the audience,” he said.
“I’ve never been in one. I’m not even sure what I’d really do. I’ve only been to one wedding before, too. I was a kid, though, so I don’t remember too much about it, except that I caught the bouquet,” I said.
“I think that’s good luck,” he said.
“With what?” I asked.
“Marriage,” he said.
“Oh. Well, hopefully,” I said.
“I can’t wait to see you in that dress,” he said.
“And I get to see you in that suit. I bet you’ll look so sharp and handsome. I’m going to have the best date there,” I said.
“I think that honor is reserved for me,” he said, winking.
We talked lightly over breakfast, keeping it mostly to the day at hand and nothing more. I’d forgotten about school, he forgot work, and the two of us just enjoyed each other’s company while eating the most delicious breakfast we could have.
After breakfast we cleaned up, not wanting to have to deal with it later, especially after we were showered and dressed, as we clutched our stomachs and wished we hadn’t eaten so much. I still had a dress to fit into.
Bentley left me mid-way through our shower to get ready, as he said he wanted to give me the bathroom so that I could get ready without him bumping into me or ruining something. I knew he wouldn’t, but he said he’d had bad experiences before and that he knew women always liked to look perfect, as he put it. I missed kissing him in the shower, but then again I did have all the hot water to myself without his big body taking it up, so maybe it wasn’t all that bad.
I turned off the water and dried myself off before walking out and getting ready. I wasn’t all that skilled with makeup, and I almost wished I’d called Nina to come help me, but I made do with the skills I did have, and I knew that they’d get me through. I decided to wear enough makeup so that it would be obvious I was wearing it, but without looking like I was going to a club or on a hot date. I wanted to look, I don’t know, conservative, and likeable, especially by his mother, who I was sure was going to be harder to impress than his father. Mothers were always harder to impress.
I did my hair the same way I did it on one of our dates, parted down the center and curled a little bit. I thought about keeping it up, but I thought the dress worked better with my hair down. With Bentley downstairs doing who knows what, I slipped into my dress before reaching behind myself and slowly zipping it up, almost pulling a muscle in the process. I stepped back, the mirror not foggy anymore, before turning around and looking at myself. I looked pretty.
I put my palms down the dress, feeling the contrast between the lace top and the solid, smooth bottom. My hair, perfectly curled, had not so much as a single stray strand out of place. My eyeliner was straight, like a professional had done it, and my mascara wasn’t clumpy. Pretty good for a girl who was so nervous.
Bentley must’ve heard me come down the stairs; I found him standing in the kitchen as if he were waiting for me as I came out. He smiled big, with his hands in his pockets, as I walked around the corner and he saw me for the first time.