Submission Specialist(Still a Bad Boy #2)(21)

Under my hands I felt his ass clench, corresponding with a push into my pussy and a jet of cum, over and over again, each clench, thrust and spurt gradually dwindling away until I was leaning back against him, feeling him twitch inside me as I tried to catch my breath.

Austin’s muscular arms were around me, holding me up. Without them I would have collapsed. The silence in the room grew as my breathing slowed, and my ears were ringing. Had I been screaming that loud? Or was this something that happens after sex that I’d never read about?

I moaned quietly when Austin cupped my breast and teased my nipple. I didn’t have the energy to do anything more. His cock, not deflated in the slightest, twitched sporadically inside me, as if still trying to deliver more sperm.

“Let’s fuck again,” he said.

I tried to raise a hand to wipe some sweat off my brow. “Wha…?”





Chapter 11

Austin

According to the alarm clock next to the bed, it was just after ten o’clock in the morning. By the time I’d finished fucking Skylar last night, the early-morning light had just started peeking through the curtains.

I couldn’t have had much sleep, but I’d slept like the dead in the time I did. That was the longest non-stop sexathon I’d ever had, even when I’d had more than one girl to spread the load over.

She took it all though, my wife absolutely drained my balls. Her pussy felt like fucking magic, heaven on Earth. I’d never felt anything like it, and I’d never wanted to stop.

Even now, thinking about her tight little pussy, I was getting hard again. That was pretty weird. Usually I just wanted a chick to fuck off in the morning, if not earlier. I’d already taken everything I wanted from them, used them up completely, so why would I go back for more?

Next to me, Skylar was a cum-soaked wreck. Sleeping on her stomach, I could see her legs were parted under the sheet. After last night, I bet she’d be walking bow-legged for a while, and they might have to bury her in a y-shaped coffin.

I propped myself up against the headboard. Skylar mumbled in her sleep, turning her head to face me with her eyes still closed. Even in the dim light, I could see a hint of cum in her hair, and spots of her virginal blood on the sheets.

Her virginity was mine, and I’d taken as much from her as any other woman I’d been with, so why was I still feeling this… attraction to her? I shook my head and swung my feet stealthily on to the floor.

I started getting dressed, looking down at her, but I had to turn around to finish off. When I looked at her, it was like I was looking at the embodiment of sex appeal itself.

She was hard to resist. I left the room without looking back, putting my shoes on in the hallway. By the time I walked out to the street, the fresh air, and the distance from Skylar, started to clear my head.

What I needed was a big breakfast, and to start concentrating on my next fight instead of this circus act. Skylar was a prizewinning fuck, I had to give her that much, but that was all.

I couldn’t let her get in my head, and I sure as fuck couldn’t let myself start believing the lies in her eyes. Hopefully, after last night, she’d realize I was just another guy who wanted to get into her pussy, and she’d save those hero-worship looks for my cock and the cameras.

The last thing on my mind was being a fuckin’ hero. That shit never works out.

At the end of the street was a diner that served breakfast until eleven o’clock, according to the sign in the window. I stepped inside and headed towards the counter.

A group of college chicks, sitting in a booth, stopped talking for a second and then started chattering excitedly in rushed whispers and intermittent giggles. Even out of the corner of my eye, I could see miles of cleavage.

I didn’t look directly at them; they’d come to me soon enough. After a minute or so browsing the menu, a guy behind the counter asked me what I’d like this morning.

“I’ll have the mega-big-time country breakfast. Extra bacon. Orange juice rather than coffee.”

He looked me up and down. “I’ll make that serving on the large side.”

“You do that.”

“Have here or takeout?”

“I’ll eat here.”

Skylar could get room service or go do her own thing, didn’t matter to me. I paid my money and took my number, which was attached to a little metal stand so the waitress would know where to bring the food, and took a booth away from the front windows.

Somebody had left a magazine on the table. Since it had Ernesto Sanchez on the cover, the man who would soon become known as my little bitch, I decided to flip through it. I was only a few paragraphs into the article about his unparalleled pride when I caught a whiff of perfume and a glimpse of sorority slut to my side.