Short Smut(7)

“Oh, baby. We make quite a pair, you and I.” I turned her around and pressed her to the wall, my forehead against hers. “Both of us afraid to lose the other. But there really isn’t any chance of me leaving you, and it has nothing to do with the way your voice gets low and sexy when you tell me what to do. I love you. Ah, I love you so much.”

“I love you too. But what are we going to do? We can’t go on this way, lashing out at the first sign of trouble.”

“The only thing we can do. I’m going to trust you. It may not always be easy. I’m a little crazy about you, if you hadn’t noticed, and sometimes I can’t think straight for wanting you. But I’ll just fucking do it, I’ll trust you anyway, because the alternative is unthinkable. When I doubt you, I’ll remember that you love me, that you want me. And when you doubt me, you’ll know that there would never be another for me.”

I kissed her, to seal the deal.

When we parted, she looked down sheepishly.

I squeezed her hip. “What is it?”

“I guess I feel a little guilty about the whole thing. I wasn’t here to relieve you, that was bad enough, but then I told you not to come for a whole week. I can’t help but wonder if that wasn’t the cause of your little… indiscretion.” Of course she would find some way to heap the blame upon her sexy shoulders. And technically, that’s exactly what had set me off, but it wasn’t her fault that I was so hot for her all the damn time.

Then again, I wasn’t one to give up an advantage.

“You might be onto something,” I mused. “Perhaps you owe me one.”

She caught my teasing tone and raised one eyebrow. “You think I deserve a punishment?”

“No…” I hedged. “But you did mention that if I had just come to you with a proposal for a threesome—”

“So you do want another woman,” she exclaimed.

“Not a woman.”

Her eyes brightened with curiosity. “Wyle, what are you telling me?”

“I’ve always had this one setup in my head. Me, tied up in the corner. You, on the bed with some hot guy between your legs.”

“Oh my God!” That wasn’t surprise in her voice but pure delight.

I kissed her again, pushed her back against the wall. The flash of aggression surprised me; it surprised her too, based on the moan she released into my mouth. But I wanted her this way, now, quickly, and I’d keep going unless she told me to stop. Instead she pulled me closer until we both tumbled to the ground, her body a hot, sweet cradle for mine.

We wrestled with our clothes, lost in a flurry of fabric and heated skin. And then, blessedly, we were both bare. More than that we were joined, our flesh rubbing together, fusing. I pushed inside her, and this was the one constant. No matter who was on top, who was topping, there was this. Her wet heat gripping so tightly I was sure I’d never last another thrust—until I did. Again and again.

“How does he take me?” she gasped.

I groaned as the fantasy sketched in my head. “From behind.”

“Hard?” She panted. “Does he fuck me hard?”

“God, yeah.” My hips pistoned faster, deeper, to demonstrate.

“Your hands, they’re tied up?” Her eyelids were so low, her inner muscles quivering around me. She was so damn close to orgasm, but her voice was only out of breath, still underlined with steel. Even now she was invincible. “You can’t touch yourself. Can’t rub against anything at all while you’re watching?”

And I felt it; even as my cock was engulfed in her wet heat, I ached with denial. Pleasure and pain coiled together, and then she went over. Those sounds, those fucking beautiful sounds—out of breath, out of control, and finally I came too, lost. Around her, over her, owned by her.

Slowly our breathing evened out, racing hearts calmed. She ran a gentling hand along the back of my neck. I pressed a kiss to her temple, damp with sweat. This was the sweetest game: the two of us joined together with no barriers and no pretense.

I knew then that we would never run out of ideas, not as long as we had each other. But in the end, that wasn’t what would keep us together. It was trust. And sex. But mostly the trust.





THE FULL GIRLFRIEND EXPERIENCE


Lindsey Flinch Bedder




We went to the Greyhound bus station to try to persuade somebody to give us the money instead of taking a bus for the Coast. We were too bashful to approach anyone. We wandered around sadly. It was cold outside. A college boy was sweating at the sight of luscious Marylou and trying to look unconcerned. Dean and I consulted but decided we weren’t pimps.