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I tucked my thighs to my belly, then grasped my knees to offer him every single inch of my body. His nostrils flared as he worked the lube over the fingers of his right hand.
“I love looking at you like this.” He ran a finger along my dick and down over my balls to my pucker. “You’re the most beautiful man.” With his left hand, he eased my panties to the side to bare my hole. My cock was throbbing.
“Mm, sweet talker,” I purred and gasped when two fingers plunged into my ass. “Ah shit, that’s so good. Can you use your dick now?”
He chuckled hotly, taking his sweet old time as he opened me up. I was ready to scream by the time he eased those slick digits out of me, then knee-walked up just a bit more. His hair and beard were wild and knotted from my fingers, his blue eyes burning.
“You’re incredibly pushy. Must be the Hollywood tabloids are right about mega superstars,” he kidded as he tapped my slippery opening with the head of his cock. Pat. Pat. Pat.
My fingers were digging into my shins. “Have you ever…read a tabloid in…life? God above, will youpleaseget that prick inside me!”
“I’ve paged through them when I was in line at the grocery store.” His smile was predatory. The bastard. Then, without warning, he eased in. Just a bit, enough to push past the slight resistance. I gasped and groaned, the stretch familiar and yet not. It had been some time, but oh how grand that stretching was!
“Are you sure you want to continue?” he asked, his voice shaky as he stilled, his restraint commendable but not needed.
“I am sure I want you now, just as you are, all pinked by the sun with your hair a mess. This is life, Gibson. This is real and true. I’ve been with men who were nothing but glitz and no substance. You’re not that kind of man. And I love it so much, so please, please, make love to me here in this rumpled bed as the sun tries to weave through the pines.”
“Such a honeyed tongue,” he murmured as he slowly entered me, pausing every point one millisecond to check to see if I was okay. It was endearing but maddening. Gradually he sank into me, and the heavens sang. My cock had flagged a bit as he had stretched me with that plump dick of his, but now that he was to the root and my body had adjusted, my dick began to fatten back up. Watching him tower above me, his hands coming to rest on my knees as he eased out and then glided back in, was so erotic. My channel was tight around his cock, and he made the most delicious sounds as he began pumping in earnest.
I let my head flop side to side, gripping my shins, as he rose up on one knee to find another angle. A deeper one that wrung a yelp out of me.
“Fine…fine,” I huffed as my prostate vibrated. “More…there…right there,” I shouted as my soul began to leave my body. He listened quite well for an older professor used to being the top dog. His pelvis slapped against my ass, my cock bouncing off my abdomen, as he pegged that knot of nerves every damn time. With my spirit floating somewhere above the slate roof of this lemon-toned cabin, I let go. Of everything.
Letting go lifted me higher still, and my body thrummed as I chased my orgasm. I just needed a little more…
Gibson sensed my needs and fisted my cock as he pounded away. The touch of his hand sent me spiraling higher. My balls drew up just as a bolt of white hot light lit up at the base of my spine. I cried out as spunk flew from me, coating my chest and stomach. Gibson growled low in his chest as I exploded all over his fingers and myself. With a grunt, his hips punched into me one last time. The depth stole my breath. I dropped my legs to grasp at his ass as he shuddered. He needed to stay right there. Buried in me as deeply as he could go. I watched him detonate. His head fell back, the cords in his throat taut as his jaw fell open. His guttural sounds made me pulse and spurt as they filled the room. My soul settled back down into my chest while Gibson buckled, that trick knee of his tipping him down into me. I embraced him, kissed him, and hugged him despite not being able to draw a full breath. Who needed air? Totally overrated stuff that oxygen.
“Heavenly.” I sighed dreamily. He purred with pride and then licked some spunk off my nipple. A zing ran through me at the touch of his tongue to my tight little bud. “God above, I think…I may have had an out-of-body experience.”
“You’re stroking my ego now,” he said as he licked his way to my mouth. His weight shifted when his lips met mine. I snickered a bit as his mouth ended up on my ear. He gave it a wet lick that made me shiver, then flopped to his back. “Please, continue telling me how my mighty peen sent your spirit to the cosmos.”
“You said mighty peen.” I sniggered in my best Beavis and Butthead. I could hear his eyes roll as he moved to the edge of the bed to remove and then tie off his condom. “You have a sexy back,” I told him just as a ruckus took place outside.
The gulls were in full on protect the little ones mode, their screeching mingling with the shouts of a man in dire peril. We both blinked at the noise. It had been so lovely and serene just a minute ago. Gibson was first off the bed, sprinting as quickly as a man with a tricky knee could sprint. I rolled back and forth, trying to get my lingerie back in place before hitting the floor, still covered with spunk, and racing out into the living room. Gibson had pulled on his kaftan and was heading out the door. The man outside was shrieking as if a puma were on his back. I raced outside, realizing I was in see-through lacy things and darting back into the cabin to grab a small quilt from the back of the sofa.
Running back out, I skidded around the corner to find a dark-haired man lying prostrate on the patio tiles, his hands over the back of his head, trying to protect himself from two very irate seagull parents. A large camera lay to the side of the man, the strap just out of reach. Gibson was swatting at the birds as they swooped and dove, their beaks coming dangerously close to the terrified man’s bare calves.
A burble of unease rose up into my throat. I recognized that camera. Suspecting foul play, I snatched the Pentax from the ground. The man threw an arm out to try to grab the camera, but I was too fast. It was then I saw his scraggly mustache and took note of his enormous ears. The pieces all snapped into place then.
The sneaky paparazzi that I’d seen several times since coming home was now spread-eagle on my patio. Well, not my patio. It was Gibson’s, but whatever.
“Let the birds pluck his eyes out,” I shouted to Gibson, hoisting the camera up into the air for him to see. The quilt around my shoulders slid off on one side. My lover lowered his arms, upset shifting to outrage in a second. “This is the man who’s been following me all over the island.”
“You bastard,” Gibson snarled like an angry panther. “Were you trying to get pictures of us in bed?!”
I flipped the camera over and began sorting through the images he had snapped in the LCD viewfinder. The nosy pig. There were hundreds of shots of the two of us taken over the past hour. Ones of us talking in the yard, moving around inside the house, then me coming out to entice Gibson into the bedroom. After that there were shots of us making love. I felt incredibly violated. The urge to vomit and/or beat this man in the face with his own camera was overwhelming. I could see why so many celebrities lost their shit with this kind of sick human being on occasion.
“Not try, Gibson. Took. Hundreds,” I snarled down at the man cowering on the patio, his nose still pressed to the cool tiles. Basil and Oregano waddled back to the pot where their chicks were waiting, looking quite proud of themselves for alerting us to this vile shit heap sneaking around our cabin. Well, not my cabin, but…who cared? There were bigger fish to fry right now.
“Call the cops. I want this scum arrested. I will press so many charges that he’ll not be able to afford a roll of film when I’m done suing his ass!” Crap, there was no roll of film. This camera was digital. Oh well, the point stood. “Don’t think of moving, you motherfucker. I will sic the birds on you if you so much as wiggle a pinkie finger.”
The photographer seemed to fold in on himself. Someone had a great fear of birds. Good. I hoped he had nightmares that would make Alfred Hitchcock envious.
“Just…one second here, Elias,” Gibson cautiously said. I threw a glare at him. “You may want to reconsider.”
“What?!”
“Please…reconsider,” the man whimpered into the dirty tiles.
