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I bit my lower lip as his cock pressed into me. His hands slid along my wet soapy body as his hips began to slap against my ass. As the hot water beat against my skin, his hands pressed against my breasts firmly, lifting me from being bent over to standing erect. He dragged his teeth along my neck as he turned me away from the warm water and against the center of the shower’s inner structure. With my face against the tile wall, he lifted me slightly with each stroke of his cock. He reached for the shower head and repositioned it to spray the hot water against my right side. Clutched in his arms with his forearms along my torso and his hands squeezing my breasts, he forced himself in and out of me like a man possessed. The angle and the pressure of his cock against my g-spot drove me insane. I was done. I stood on my toes and stretched my calves. He pressed harder against me.
Now forcefully pounding himself in and out of my swollen mound, Jak was proving a point. Age had nothing to do with anything at this juncture. Jak could out-fuck me, outlast me, and out run me. As my wet body slid up and down the surface of the tile wall – literally being lifted from my feet by his cock, I felt myself begin to climax. My head became a whirlwind of meaningless thoughts. I blinked my eyes and stared at the wall.
What the fuck is happening?
His cock worked some type of Navy SEAL magic against my civilian pussy. I felt myself clench against the shaft of his cock. This was going to be huge. As he continued to press deeper into me, my body went limp against the wall. My head exploded into every thought and feeling I had ever encountered in a lifetime of feelings – all at once. I opened my mouth. It happened again. He held himself deep inside of me and began to scream. As his voice echoed throughout the shower and bathroom, his cock swelled. I held my breath and waited as he lifted me from the floor of the shower and against the wall. I exhaled loudly as he exploded his warmth inside of me.
He continued to scream a cry of love, passion, and of proving he could cum twice in one sexual setting. My mind and body expanded into a time and place like no other. I felt as if I had become immortal. A tingling sensation filled me as I flattened my face into the wet wall and reached a level of climactic pleasure I was certain so very few have ever known.
Jak Anderson Kennedy was not the man of my dreams. I never dreamed of wanting a man before I met Jak. Jak happened into my life not as a gift or an answer to one of life’s many unanswered questions. I had lived my life as a fractured soul; a misguided and uncertain form of human life with no direction. Assembled of a thousand small pieces of what would never become one, I was truly broken. A large piece of me was missing. No more useful than a clock without its hands, I was incomplete. I needed something to snap into place and allow me to become whole. Try as I might to force something into the empty space within me, I lived a life in denial of my brokenness. Jak was not a compliment to my life, or an object of my desire.
Jak was the last remaining piece of me.
He tucked the towel into my cleavage and lifted me from my feet. Exhausted and filled with love, I sighed as Jak carried me into the bedroom. After lowering me to the bed, he pushed his hands onto his hips as I relaxed onto my back. With a towel around his waist and droplets of water covering his muscular body, Jak stood before me smiling.
You torturous prick.
Without speaking, he leaned over me and removed a pillow from the bed. Now standing beside me clutching the corner of the pillow, he grinned as it hung heavily from his grip. Eventually, after a few very long moments of admiring Jak, my eyes fell closed.
Whack!
I felt a dull abrupt pressure against my stomach. I opened my eyes. He swung the pillow again.
Whack!
“Tired?” he howled.
Still not quite mentally competent, I blinked my eyes.
Whack!
“Too exhausted to fight back?” he asked as he raised the pillow over his head.
In what I’m sure Jak would describe as an evasive maneuver, I rolled away from him repeatedly, and grabbed a pillow as I fell to the floor.
The feather pillows were cheap ones from Target, and leaked feathers terribly. Of a typical morning, there would be a dozen feathers littering the floor from just sleeping on them. They were, however, simply lovely to sleep with. As I rose from my squatted position and peered over the top of the comforter, Jak leaped onto the bed. As his body bounced into position, I swung the pillow toward his head.
Whack!
My towel fell to the floor. As he looked down at the bed and attempted to recover, I gripped the pillow with both hands and swung with all my might. Heavily, it came down on the back of his head.
Whack!
“Did that feel like a tired woman swung it?” I screamed as I ran naked into the living room.
Jak immediately followed behind me.
We chased each other through the living room naked for fifteen minutes. No one won and no one lost. Me sitting on one couch and Jak sitting on the other, we each held the pillows against our naked bodies. White feathers filled the air. Jak was a gorgeous man in ways no one would ever know. As Jak stared at me admiringly, I stood, dropped my pillow onto the couch, and walked naked to the easel. After a few minutes of cleanup and preparation, I began to paint. I grinned as I painted a few white feathers in contrast to the purples, blues, and reds surrounding my face. After what seemed like only a matter of minutes, the room began to darken. I looked out the window. The setting sun was all I needed to see to bring me to the realization several hours had passed. I stood back and admired my finished work. Typically, I would sign my first name in the lower right hand corner. If Jak was going to hang this in his apartment, I preferred everyone who entered his home to know who I was. I proudly wanted to claim Jak and bring attention to the fact he was mine.
I squeezed yellow paint onto the palette, and dobbed the brush into it heavily. In four-inch-tall yellow letters across the bottom of the painting, I stroked my name.
I turned to face the couch. Naked and partially covered with the pillow, Jak slept. I lifted the painting from the easel and quietly carried it to the couch opposite where Jak slept. I leaned the freshly painted canvas against the cushion so he could see it when he woke up. I lifted my pillow from the floor and walked toward Jak. Softly, I lowered myself onto the couch beside him and pressed my skin to his. As I pulled the pillow to my body for a little warmth, I looked across the room at my work.
I looked beautiful.
The bold yellow name across the bottom of the painting would make clear to anyone who entered his apartment who I was.
Stay away bitch, he’s mine.
