The water kept coming down, and the heat relaxed me, while the sound of it pattering on the tiles made me think of that exciting night in the park, on the merry-go-round. I put Smith's beautiful c**k in my mouth and started to suck, the movements coming naturally as I focused on enjoying the sensation of his skin against mine.
My hands roamed around, helping at times with the shaft in my mouth, then stroking his muscular legs and reaching between his legs to fondle that other mysterious area, the balls. He groaned with pleasure when I touched them, so I kept doing the things that made his c**k feel harder in my mouth.
With a gasp, he pushed me away.
“Was I biting?”
He pulled me to my feet. “No. Why? Do you bite sometimes?”
I gave him a flirty, bluffing look. “I could.”
He chuckled and flashed me that superhero grin. “Not today. I like things soft and gentle, like this. Just nice, normal stuff, you know?”
“No kink?”
“I don't think I'd like that stuff,” he said. “What about you?”
“I'm eighteen.”
“You certainly are.”
He pulled me into him and kissed my mouth and neck while he slid his hand between my legs. With careful fingertips, he parted my swollen lips and massaged the slippery moisture from my slit forward to my nub, which practically jumped into his hand when he touched me there.
I whimpered and sighed into his lips, which made him groan with matching pleasure and finger me a little harder.
He progressed from rubbing my cl*t and swollen lips to gentle penetration, pushing one fingertip inside my opening. I gasped, and he took this as a sign to thrust into me with his thick finger, his palm contacting with my pu**y as he pulsed the finger inside me.
I practically cried, it felt so good to have this beautiful, golden man touching me.
After a moment, he pulled his hand away, and I opened my eyes, surprised this was actually happening, and not just my daydream.
He turned off the water, then gave me the quickest of rub-downs with a fresh towel, and led me out to the bed. We tumbled onto the bed together, kissing while giggling (me) and groaning (him).
After some fumbling, we ended up with me lying on top of him, my legs spread wide around him. I felt something at my opening, and I instinctively pushed down against it.
Oh-so-eloquently, I said, “Oh!”
As he entered me, his face took on the most amazing expression, almost serene.
I gasped a second time, and pushed myself down further on him. He was piercing me, filling me, and it felt so shocking to have something big where nothing was, nothing had been, for my whole life. The thick head of his c**k moved past the reach of the longest fingers, and I thought it couldn't go further in, but it did. My body tensed and then relaxed, the flesh of my pu**y stretching to accommodate his girth. Cautiously, I started to shift my whole body, up and down, so that I was riding him, his c**k moving rhythmically in and out.
His hands were everywhere, but mostly on my ass and hips, encouraging the movement. It didn't feel at all like I'd imagined, all those times I'd humped pillows and other things, but as soon as I stopped thinking, stopped worrying, a tingling sensation enveloped the whole area. He grunted and started to move underneath me, distractingly.
“Hold still,” I grunted. “Just for a minute.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
I got myself lined up and started rocking, our pelvises gliding back and forth on steaming, sweaty skin.
The orgasm started inside me, at the tip of his cock, and flashed out like an explosion. I cried out a bunch of sounds, some of them possibly words, as I came.
The bliss rolled through me as I curled, inhaling and exhaling the fire of pleasure.
No sooner had I floated back from heaven than he rolled us over, and then we really started to f**k.
His face serious, he bucked his h*ps against mine, that thick c**k of his banging into me mercilessly until I shook with a second orgasm, helpless as a tiny boat at sea in a storm.
His rhythm changed, and I felt him grow even stiffer inside me, like granite.
He's going to come, I realized.
I bit my lower lip. Why was I such an idiot? Why hadn't I said anything sooner?
He grunted and thrust in hard.
I blurted out, “I'm not on the pill!”
He pulled back suddenly, a look of anguish on his face.
Now what? He looked as confused as I felt.
My hand was between us, and in my confused state, I grabbed his cock. I may have just been checking that it wasn't still inside me, but Smith groaned and pushed that granite c**k into my hand, everything still slick with our juices.
I pulled on his shaft, like I was milking it, and he held very still, hovering over me with his whole body tense. I kept stroking, not sure if I was doing that part right. I must have been, because he grunted and thrust against my hand as he spurted out all over my stomach.
His c**k was throbbing in my hand, and I just kept stroking as more spurted out on me, like warm rain.
“Mmmmmmmmmm,” he said, his face pulling back into a whole-face grin. “Well, that was interesting.”
I pinched my face in apology. “Sorry I didn't tell you about the pill thing earlier.”
He sighed and rested down on top of my body, sandwiching his fluid between us, which seemed more intimate than anything in that moment.
He stroked my cheek with one hand, then kissed me tenderly.
“Don't apologize,” he said. “Never apologize. It was my fault for not asking. Remember that. In a relationship, if anything goes wrong, it's the man's fault.”
Relationship? I ran my fingers through his chin-length blond hair, which was getting puffy now without the elastic band.
I gazed up at those blue eyes, as calm as an Ohio lake in the summer. “I can't tell if you're joking or telling me the truth.”
“I never lie,” he said. “Except in my stories, of course. But even then, I'm not lying as much as you'd think.”
I squirmed underneath him, adjusting my neck, and that movement broke the spell.
He blinked, as though waking up from a trance. “I've got to get you cleaned up and on your way,” he said.
I didn't want to go. I wanted to stay in his arms forever, and sleep in his bed, and wake up the next morning and make love, then help him type his novel.
But I had to go.
When I got back to Carridee's house, she was pacing, and when she stopped pacing, the interrogation began.
I admitted nothing, but she was a smart lady, and she'd found out there was only one person staying at the cabin. Smith hadn't exactly lied to her, but he had omitted details.
“I am not a madam,” Carridee said, her eyes narrowed with anger. “And you are not a junior prostitute, young lady. You're going out on the bus tomorrow, back home to your mother.”