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I’ve lost track of time and space when a single thought makes its way into my brain. Sex is all it’s cracked up to be. At least I think it will be. I haven’t even had sex yet.
Commando has leaned away. He’s brushing my cheek with his finger. Taz has given me room to breathe. I dip my fingers into the sides of my bikini bottom and push it down.
“I was going to take you back to my room,” Taz grunts.
“This naughty little slut can’t wait.” Crap. I said that out loud. I called myself a slut. Well, I am at my mother’s wedding reception, getting orgasms from two of my new stepbrothers while the third one watches… If the shoe fits.
“My naughty little slut is getting ahead of herself,” Taz says, dropping his board shorts as I step out of my bottoms.
Stonewall steps away. He brings both of his hands on top of his head as he paces. Why does that make me want him even more? He wouldn’t have stayed if he truly thought this was wrong, would he? No, it’s something else. That guarded look I saw earlier—something’s broken inside of him.
Taz takes my hand and wraps my fingers around his shaft, which had felt large through his suit, but he’s huge. I think about my vibrator. I feel so full when I’m riding it.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.” His command is a breathy whisper.
I want to be his naughty slut. Have I not made that clear? As I rub my hand up and down his shaft, trail my fingers over his slick tip, and spiral my finger through the wetness, I listen for the tiny catches in his breath to learn what he likes. Apparently, everything.
I’ve never felt so free to explore. Go big or go home. Or in this case… Go big and go home in a few days. I slow-stroke his shaft, moan, and crane my neck. “I want to be your naughty slut.”
His cock surges in my hand, startling me. My hand flies off, but I make the best of it and bring my fingers to my lips, dragging my tongue over the saltiness of his pre-cum, locking my eyes with his as I do so. I’m about to drop to my knees and give myself a full taste of what he has to offer, but he pins me to the wall.
“I had no idea how much I’d enjoy having a stepslut.”
Stepslut? That probably shouldn’t make me happy. It’s degrading. It’s wrong in so many ways. And it whips my insides into a wanton frenzy. What happens on the island, stays on the island. I need that tattooed on my brain.
Even as I repeat it like a mantra, I know it’s not true. I’m going to hold onto this experience forever. This little stepslut is already ruined.
He rolls his hips into me. “I’m going to fuck you right here the way a virgin stepslut deserves.”
My sex tingles so hard I almost orgasm on the spot. I throw my arms around his neck. “I’m ready.”
There’s a pause as if he wasn’t expecting me to be good with that. The Peach Bottom Valley version of me worries that I might overstep, but the wild, island version, affectionately termedstepslutis too sexually charged to care. In fact, being free, embracing what feels so natural, is the most empowered thing I’ve ever done.
He repositions, cupping his hands below my ass, lifts me, and aligns his cock with my soaking wet entrance. “If you tell me to stop, I will. Otherwise, it’s time to pop my stepslut’s little cherry.”
“Fuck me,” I say, proud of my shamelessness.
He slides in slowly at first, and I rock my hips to adjust to him. I’ve never been so wet or so stretched. It burns. It feels good. My world is in chaos. And I’m officially no longer a virgin.
We could stop. That’s the dumbest thought to ever cross my mind. I rock my hips faster, egging him on. He matches my motion, one of his arms wrapped around my back, protecting me from the hard wall. His muscular body pounds into me from the front and his cock strips every shred of cherry from my body.
I want to come. I need to come. I want him inside of me forever.
His breaths against my cheek shift to my mouth, offering demanding kisses.
I’m about to lose control.
“I’m going to come,” I say against his lips.
He growls, which speaks to the slut in me, and my fingernails dig into his bare back. His growl intensifies, his cock swells inside me, and I shatter into a million pieces. My entire consciousness becomes one with him. His seeds pumps into me, filling me, overflowing. How the hell do I leave this on the island?
Eleven
Taz
Cheri doesn’t realize that I’m awake. We’re lying face to face, and her head is curled down a little. She’s staring at Stonewall, who’s sleeping in a chair across the room. He won’t get in bed with us.
I try to breathe in her scent, but it’s so mingled with sex, it takes me a second to parse out the sweet, addictive hints that belong to her.
