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“I love the smell of this soap. It smells like you,” he says.
He takes his time, making sure every inch of my skin is clean. His warm body presses against me, his firm cock sliding between my soap-slick ass cheeks. I’m under the showerhead now, bubbles going down the drain as I rinse off. He gently bites my shoulder and reaches around, ring and middle fingers on either side of my clit, rubbing in soft, slow circles.
My moans echo in the tiled bathroom. I lift my foot onto the lip of the tub to open myself up and give him better access. The head of his cock pushes at my asshole. I push back against it, but it won’t budge without lube, which probably wouldn’t feel good anyway, so it’s better to leave it alone. Instead, he uses his free hand to guide himself to my fleshy opening. I’m still a bit sore from our encounter the night before, but as soon as he’s inside of me, all pain is forgotten and only desire is left behind as he works me over.
My palms flat against the wall, I let the water roll down my back and enjoy the sensation of being stretched. His grunting becomes animalistic as he starts to thrust harder. He puts his hand on my back, bending me over. That amazing pain is back as his rigid prick bottoms out. I’m crying out for more, screaming for him to “fuck me hard!”
“God, you’re so tight,” he says, tearing into me, almost as if he too were in pain.
He slides in and out of me before turning me around and lifting me off the ground. My arms are around his neck, legs around his waist. He pushes my back against the wall, holds my ass in his hands and somehow manages to hold me up and fuck me like that without any help from me. After ten minutes, the water is losing its heat but his pace hasn’t. He has the stamina of someone half his age, and the strength too.
Like a puppet with wires, he positions my body whichever way he desires and I’m perfectly happy to let him do so. With one of my legs on the floor, he lifts the other, holding it in the crook of his arm and enters me at a side angle. It’s a direct hit to my g-spot. He nails it every time, tapping my button like it’s an O key stuck on a keyboard. Three more pumps and it’s game-over.
My screams rise to an almost deafening pitch as my orgasm takes hold, making me faint and light-headed.
The moisture in the air hurts my lungs as I try to catch my breath. He’s still inside of me when he turns off the water. He kisses me more, staying inside of me. When he finally pulls out, a torrent of our mixed fluids spill out of me and splash against the bottom of the porcelain tub.
I’ll definitely hit up the pharmacy after school. At least I think I will. I’m taking the bus home and I’m not sure it goes in that direction. If not, I can always get Emily to take me tomorrow.
My muscles and body are still wrecked when he takes my face in his hands and kisses me deeply. “You’re going to be late for school.”
“I know,” I say and kiss him again. I don’t want this to end. I’m tempted to just not go to school, but my GPA depends on the results of these exams. “It was so worth it.”
I clean myself up, dress, brush on a coat of mascara, and say goodbye to Paul before leaving the apartment. In the halls, several of my neighbors, all female, are outside talking to each other. I’m not all that close with any of them even though we go to the same school. I’ve never taken much time to say much other than “hi” and pet the one woman’s parrot. I’ve always wanted to live in a neighborhood where everyone knew each other and had the others’ backs, but I never got the vibe from these people that something like that would be an option, other than the neighbor whose cat I’m watching. From the day I moved in I had the feeling that they had a clique and I wasn’t invited in. It’s like high school all over again. Somethings never change, I guess.
When they see me they bend their heads, whispering and laughing. “That must’ve been some party last night,” one of them says to me.
Great, they heard me. I knew I was being loud, but I’d hoped I wasn’t being that loud. Gossip spreads around this complex like wildfire and before long, everyone will know. Oh, well. It wasn’t as if I’d dragged some one-night stand to my apartment (like I almost did) and had my way with him. I had an amazing night with the man I care about and I’m not going to pretend as if I hadn’t. And I’m definitely not going to apologize for it.
I know I’m blushing without having seen my face. Nosey broads.
Instead of staying embarrassed and letting these girls get under my skin, I say, “You have no idea,” and exaggerate bowed-legs as I walk down the stairs.
“Someone’s looking happy,” Emily says as we leave class. I’d arrived five minutes late and got nasty glares from Mr. Oliver, but nothing could kill my mood.
“That’s because someone got laid,” I say.
Emily slaps my arm, eyes wide. “Tell me everything. Spare no details.”
Normally I get annoyed by the bump and grind in the hallways as students scurry to their next classes, but nothing can bother me today.
“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”
“I know, so tell me everything.”
We head toward economics, the other class we share. In fact, it was how we met in the first place. We sit down in our seats next to each other and I tell her everything.
I meet my dad for lunch. He takes me out once a month. It was my mom’s idea. She thinks it will bring my dad and I closer together. She’s tirelessly optimistic. All my dad ever talks about is how hard he had to work to get the things he has, and how he’s doing me a favor by never lending me money—which I never ask for. If I did, he’d hold it over my head like a wrecking ball.
We sit down at a diner and look over the menu. He talks mostly about work. I pretend to listen to him for the most part and just try to enjoy the free meal.
I’m only half listening when I hear the tail end of what he just said. “And Paul stayed out all night. I wonder what he’s up to.”
My French fry gets caught in my throat and I have to pound my chest with my fist to swallow it down.
“He probably hung out with other friends.” I shrug, as if I couldn’t care less. “So what do you and mom have going on for your anniversary. That’s coming up soon, right?” I say, trying to get off the subject of Paul.
“We have the same friends. He would’ve told me. When I called around looking for him last night, no one had seen him.”
“Someone’s a little clingy,” I tease.
Please stop talking about Paul.
“He’s staying at my house. The least he can do is call me and tell me he’s not coming home so I can set the alarm. Besides, he’s only here for a day or two, and we have plans.”
That’s it? All the time I have left with him is a day or two? Of course, my dad will most likely hog every minute of it.
Dad waves a waitress over to refill his drink. When I was a kid I always hated it when he did that. The waitresses were busy and would get to us eventually, but my dad never has the patience to wait. I still hate it even as an adult, but I’m more concerned about what’s happening with Paul to care.
