CHAPTER SEVEN
Lindy
I swung my duffel bag and ran down the steps to the kitchen.
“Hey Mom, hey Dad,” I greeted lightly, “Sorry I have to go back to school early, I know it’s a surprise.”
And Brenda made a frowny face before leaning forward to kiss me on the forehead.
“Oh honey,” she sighed, “we barely saw you and now you have to head back so soon? But you just got home.”
And I nodded, flushing a little on the inside. I was supposed to return for summer school, that was true, but summer session didn’t start for two weeks. I’d fed my parents a white lie about the coffee shop needing extra help during this time, how they needed me to come early to hold down the fort.
So my parents had nodded sagely, eating it all up, never suspecting that I was moving into Chris Jones’ place for ten days to be his … oh god, I could hardly say it. Fuckdoll. Fuck. Doll. Fuck + Doll. The word made my cunt shiver, the cream begin to drip, my insides moist and hot. Because even the thought of what was about to happen made me grow achy inside, my pelvic region tingling, my knees weak as my pussy pulsed pleasantly. Was I ready for this? Could I do it?
But even though it was so wrong, so crazy, I felt oddly at ease, which was strange because a chasm gaped between me and the big man. On the one hand, Chris was an alpha male, worldly, in his forties, and my dad’s boss for crying out loud, whereas I was an nineteen year-old girl, untested, naïve, and a virgin no less. There could be no two people more different, with different experiences, outlooks and expectations.
But the thing is, none of that seemed to matter when it came to Mr. Jones. Not the age gap, not our differing backgrounds, not his abundance of experience or my lack of it. Instead, we’d always seemed okay around each other, casual, friendly, without any crazy awkwardness. And that was part of the reason why I’d agreed to this. Because of course, I wanted my dad to keep his job and only Chris could make that happen, but at the same I felt comfortable around the big man, knowing instinctively that he’d take care of me, make sure everything turned out okay on this wild adventure.
So with another goodbye to my parents, I skipped down the porch and hopped into my little car. My parents trailed behind me, waving, with no idea that I wasn’t about to make the drive back to school. Instead I was driving twenty minutes to Chris’s house, in the expensive area of our neighborhood, a gated community with huge estates and lavish grounds.
And as my little Jetta pulled up before Chris’s mansion, second thoughts started screaming into my head. Here I was, little Lindy in my college sweatshirt and jeans, whereas Chris lived in a huge stone mansion, sculpted grounds perfectly manicured, a fountain tinkling melodiously next to the front door.
And as if on cue, the big man came out then, casually handsome in jeans that hugged those long legs and a blue t-shirt that showed off his broad chest and thick, strong arms.
“Hey,” he growled low in his throat, the eye contact between us electric.
I smiled shyly him.
“Hey yourself,” I said softly, and like that it was on. His mouth came crashing down on mine as he dragged me into the house, slamming the door behind us before seizing my head between his hands and tilting it for better leverage, to thrust his tongue even deeper into my warm mouth.
And I loved every second of it, pressing up against him, pushing my boobs against his chest, mewling, squirming, sucking on his tongue as he ravished me, running his hands through my curls, all over my body, tracing my hips, ass, and waist as if they belonged to him.
Because they did … for the next ten days. But Chris didn’t take me immediately although I was more than ready. I’d been mentally preparing myself to lose my virginity the moment I set foot on his property but instead, he pulled up for a moment, breathing hard, and shot me a smile before lifting me in his arms and striding into the kitchen.
“You’re gorgeous, baby girl, and I’m gonna be in you soon enough, but first we eat,” he growled.
I giggled nervlously.
“No worries, I had a bite at my parents’,” I said, flushing. Even using the word “parents” made me blush, reminded me of how illicit this was, how Brenda and Jim, even now, thought I was merrily driving back to school when actually I was at my dad’s boss place about to lose my virginity.
But Chris just chuckled seeing my blush, how I turned pink and bit my lip.
“Baby,” he growled gently. “Don’t feel bad about what we’re doing, it’s natural and we’re two consenting adults. And trust me, I’ll take good care of you, your parents won’t have a thing to worry about financially.”
And I bit my lip again, nodding. Because his promise felt so genuine, the look in his blue eyes sincere even as he pulled out some pots and pans to whip up a mysterious concoction.
So I let go, taking a deep breath. After all, I’d agreed to this bargain and it was time to hold up my half of the agreement. But what was this stuff about eating first? It was a weird detour when I’d expected to be thrown onto his bed within seconds of the first day.
“Um, Mr. Jones,” I said hesitantly. “I’m not sure what you’re making but if it’s a protein powder or some kind of energy drink, I’m not really into that stuff,” I said. The blender was whirring and he had about a million ingredients out on the corner.
“I mean, I eat anything, I love food,” I amended quickly, not wanting to sound picky, “It’s just that you must do protein shakes, right? You’re in such great shape …”
My voice trailed off. Oh god, why had I put my foot in it so soon? I was already talking about his physique like I couldn’t get enough, it was the first and only thing on my mind. But Chris just glanced over at me and grinned.
“Really, I’m in great shape, huh?” he rumbled. “You like what you see?” he said casually while cracking an egg into a bowl.
And what could I say? Mr. Jones was positively gorgeous at that moment, the sun shining on his ruffled dark hair, casually handsome, confident, deft with his hands as he mixed things up, his big body at ease and yet filled with latent power, energy that I could feel crackling all around us.
And so I just nodded silently, my eyes wide, lips trembling. Chris paused for a moment to lean towards me, taking my mouth in a sweet kiss, his lips gentle, tracing mine, savoring my plushness, marking what was already his.
“Mmm,” he murmured, drawing back to stare into my wondrous eyes. I was going to melt into the floor right there, slip off my stool and became a puddle on the ground because the kiss had been so warm and so utterly surprising, I was breathless. The big man had tricks up his sleeve, a side to him that was gentle, tender, warm and caring.
But Mr. Jones just shot me another grin.
“Baby,” he said smoothly. “You’re gonna see more sides to me than you ever imagined, more than you ever bargained for,” he said with a wink. “Because so far, you’ve only known me as Mr. Jones, the boss man, but we’re about to change all that. We’re gonna become something more, a man and a woman, exploring each other, enjoying each other, and you’ll get a feel for what I like, as well as what you like … and love,” he said with a heated glance.
But before I could reply, warmth rushing to my pelvic region once more, Mr. Jones poured a huge cup of orange juice and set it before me determinedly.
“But first,” he said with a growl. “We’re eating.”
And I flushed again.
“But I already ate,” I protested in a small voice, although the orange juice bubbled invitingly, the vivid color indicating that it was chock full of nutrients and vitamins.
“No worries,” rumbled Chris casually. “We eat five meals per day around here, and baby, you’d look better bigger,” he added with a sly smile. “You’re too thin.”
I gasped then, my cheeks coloring.
“Too thin?” I parroted dumbly. “But… but … look at me!” I sputtered, gesturing to my figure. Even in the college sweatshirt and jeans, it was obvious that I was curvy, the cotton unable to hide the swell of my girls, my thighs thick on the stool. I guess there’s this new thing called “thigh gape” where skinny girls have a hole between their legs, but I was the complete opposite. I have “thigh smush,” where there’s absolutely no space between my clunkers, no light to be seen.
But I like it. I love being curvy, sassy, and fine, it makes me feel confident and powerful, it was just surprising to hear that my man wanted more. After all, the “preferred body shape” was skinny, but I guess Chris had different tastes?
And the big man nodded, grinning at me again.
“Yep baby,” he confirmed, while slipping a stack of pancakes onto a dish. “You’re gorgeous honey, but I think about twenty pounds more would do the trick,” he said, carefully spurting whipped cream onto the golden mound of dough. “Yep, about twenty sounds right,” he said before pushing the heaping mass towards me.
And I gasped, not just at the amount of food, which was unbelievable, but also at his comment.
“Twenty pounds!” I parroted, hardly believing my ears. “I’d have to eat non-stop to put that on.”
And Chris just grinned at me again.
“Yep, and we’re starting today,” he rumbled, “I’m gonna help you honey, don’t worry, I do all the cooking around this place, I’m good with the pots and pans.”
And blushing, I melted even a little more. A sexy man who was an expert chef, who could whip up every meal, who wanted me curvy, sexy and bouncy all for him? Oh god, this was like a dream come true, a romance hero come to life and I dug in obediently, cutting off a slice of fluffy pancake, dipping it in gooey syrup before putting it in my mouth.
“Don’t forget the butter,” added Chris helpfully, pushing a huge tub of the good stuff towards me. “Everything’s better with butter,” he said with another wink, seating himself on the stool next to me and helping himself to a short stack.
And so my introduction to my ten days wasn’t scary or weird at all. In fact, it seemed like a completely harmless breakfast with an older man, one who was funny and charming, one who went out of his way to cook for me, make me laugh, put me at ease. I could almost say that there was nothing to worry about, except reality had to intrude at some point. Once the last bite of pancakes was finished, I leapt up and began clearing the plates.
“Here, I’ll clean,” I said with a smile at the big man, “You cooked so I’ll clean, it’s fair.”
But Chris’s hand came down over mine, his big palm square, the fingers blunt and oh so warm.
“That can wait,” he rumbled deep in his chest, his eyes electric suddenly. “We have some things to talk about.”
And my breath caught in my throat, my fingers stilling on the plates.
“Um, of course,” I said, “Just give me a minute to clean up and we can talk all you want,” I said with a sassy smile before fleeing to the bathroom.
I could hear plates clinking outside as I stared at myself in the tiny powder room mirror. Everything about me looked normal, the same brown curly hair, the same big caramel eyes except that there was a new awareness humming all through me, my lips trembling slightly, a little more pink than usual, my eyes were especially bright.
Calm down, I directed myself. You signed up for ten days with Mr. Jones and you know what you’re getting yourself into. It’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, I reassured myself.
So taking a deep breath, I stepped out into the kitchen once more, smiling brightly.
“Ready schmeady, I’m at your disposal,” I teased with a confidence I didn’t quite feel, and the big man quirked an eyebrow at me before shutting off the water, turning to look at me with a dishtowel draped over his shoulder, crossing his arms over that broad chest. Oh god, he looked so good, that white towel was so small and limp draped over a strong shoulder, the contrast only highlighting his masculinity. Again, I could feel myself losing control, spinning helplessly once more in his powerful orbit, drawn magnetically by his aura of confidence.
And the big man’s eyes deepened as he took me in, becoming fathomless, magnetic pools.
“Good,” he rumbled, a hand reaching out to stroke my cheek. “Because I can’t fucking wait anymore.”
And with that, he swept me into his arms, lifting me up to press my curvy form against his big one and smashed his mouth onto mine, all the while striding through the living room and up the stairs, kicking open a door before depositing me on a huge bed.
“Oh!” I squealed, bouncing up and down, everything about me flying in all directions. “Oh!”
I got a glimpse of dark furniture, heavy, solid, contrasted against cream white walls before I was pushed back onto the navy bedspread, Chris’s big hands helping to pull the sweatshirt over my head, strip off my jeans, my socks, my everything, until I was completely bare in front of him, every inch nude, creamy and white, spread before his gaze.
And I had another instant of momentary shock, of “What the fuck am I doing?” Because a waft of cool air trailed over my nipples, making them tingle almost painfully, while another one trailed between my thighs, blowing sense into me, and I tensed automatically, pushing my legs together, my virginal instincts on high in the presence of an alpha male.
But Chris was on it in a sec, he noticed every small reaction of my body, every small shudder, every quick, indrawn breath.
“No baby,” he murmured, trailing one big hand up my right thigh, caressing and squeezing the luscious flesh. “Don’t get scared, it’s just me.”
I tried to act casual, relax a little, force my leg down but I couldn’t help the tremor that ran through my form, the elevated breathing.
“It’s just you?” I said weakly. “Mr. Jones, I’ve never done this before so ‘it’s just you’ isn’t very comforting.”
“I know,” he said, leaning close to take my lips in another deep kiss as his hands massaged and stroked my waist and ass, running smoothly over the creamy skin, the hills and valleys that came so naturally to me. I quivered underneath him, moaning a bit, and instinctively lay back, my thighs spreading of their own accord. “But you’ll get used to me because I plan on being in you every possible second, getting to know your body and having you know mine.”
And I couldn’t answer because the sensations that were coursing through my body took over, making me their prisoner, carrying me on a current that I couldn’t resist. I tossed my head back, sighing, lips slightly parted as his big hands explored me, weighing my girls in his palms, squeezing and loving the soft flesh, playing with my nipples, flicking them with his fingers before he leaned down and took a puffy tip into his mouth.
“Ohhhh!” I sighed, arching my back, unconsciously offering myself to him even more. “Ohh!”
And the big man murmured with my breast in his mouth, lightly tonguing my nub before biting it playfully, making me squeal, and then soothing the hurt with his tongue, licking me again, running the sensitive tip around his mouth.
“Mmm baby girl,” he rumbled against my skin, “You taste good.”
And I’d lost it by now, even so early into our foreplay. I was writhing, twisting underneath him, my hands running through his hair, grasping at him with panting breaths, desperate to see him, hold him, do whatever came next.
“Please Mr. Jones,” I panted, my body loose and wet for him already. “Please.”
And the big man chuckled deep in his chest, quirking an eyebrow at me.
“So soon, baby girl? You really are a horny slut aren’t you, that little cunt can’t wait to be taken,” he growled.
The nasty words should have made me cringe, should have made me hate him, but they just turned me on more, my body growing slick, begging for him. Because yeah, I was horny, my pussy ached so bad, I wanted Chris to touch it, to kiss it, to make it his, and I wasn’t above begging.
“Please Mr. Jones,” I mewled again, writhing on the sheets as he lapped my breasts. “Please, please, touch me there.”
And a deep chuckle emanated from his chest, the vibrations pressed against my tummy.
“Here?” he murmured, my boob still in his mouth as he stroked my arm with one hand. “Here?” he teased again, as he ran that same hand down my waist and over my hips.
“Here?” he played with me again, tickling my tummy with his fingers, making me mewl and writhe again as they dropped lower and lower, teasing me. “Or here?” he asked with finality, that big hand finally cupping my wet folds, the center of my femininity, my pussy aching and begging to be explored.
“Yes, there, there,” I panted, clutching his shoulders now, my legs spread so wide I should have been ashamed, losing it all in front of the big man. But I didn’t care and just spread my thighs wider as his fingers began to stroke through my folds, moaning so loud you could probably hear it in a neighboring town, my wetness so sleek, so swollen that each drag of his fingers through my folds made tingles run through my cunt, emanating all through my pelvic region.
“Yes, there,” I panted again as one big finger began circling my clit, playing with my little nub, stroking it on its underside before giving it a sweet pinch.
“Ahhh!” I shrieked, shivers of electricity running through me, my breasts jiggling with the unbelievable sensations below. “Ahh!”
And the big man groaned before muttering, “Fuck, I have to taste.”
And in a flash, he was between my thighs, that big head right at my snatch. He pushed my knees up so that he could see everything, everything bared from ass to clit, and shook his head, growling, his eyes glued to my twat.
“How’d you get so beautiful, baby girl?” he ground out before diving in, lapping up my right wall, then my left. My cunt creamed immediately, the white rising up from inside, spilling out, dripping wetly down my butt but Chris was on it. He lapped it up, letting my juices run down his throat, the tangy taste of female the ultimate ambrosia.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” I cried out, this was so fucking dirty. My pussy was being tasted for the first time and it felt so good I’d lost my mind already, my head thrashing back and forth on the pillow, my hands scrabbling mindlessly at the sheets, grasping at air. “Oh fuck me, fuck me!”
The big man just growled between my legs, this time pulling my labia apart with big fingers so that he could see up my insides, my stiffly engorged clit, waving and dancing in the air, and the beautiful, glistening walls of my inner channel, pulsing and begging for his dick. Without hesitating, he dipped his head and licked lightly at my entrance, teasing it, nipping at the soft flesh.
“Yeah, this is where my dick is gonna go,” he rumbled, more to himself than me. “This is what I’m gonna fuck.”
And I creamed wetly again at those words, I wanted it so bad, my clit buzzed with electricity, I needed him so badly in me, my pussy gushing even more juice.
“Do it then,” I panted. “Put it in me, put it in me.”
But Chris shot me a sly glance then.
“Not just yet baby, because you have something that I want to taste.”
I paused momentarily.
“What?” I begged, my voice on a whine, my hips writhing beneath his hands. “Please taste it, you’ve tasted it already.” If he meant my cunt, my clit, my interior channel, he could have as much of that as he wanted, I’d be more than happy to let him feast so long as put his dick in me stat. But the big man had other plans, there was another part of my anatomy that was precious, untouched.
“No baby, not that,” he nuzzled against my folds, making me squirm again and let out a light squeal. “I want to taste your hymen, I want to feel that little piece of tissue that’s never been broken before.”
And my eyes popped open then.
“You can taste that?” I breathed, still for a moment, unbelieving. “You can …” I couldn’t even finish, it was so obscene. Chris could push his tongue into my pussy far enough to run it up against my hymen, the proof of my virginity?
And the big man nodded, a dark, possessive look coming over his face.
“Oh yeah,” he growled, deep color suddenly slashing his cheeks. “This is yours to give once and you’ve chosen me, baby. So I’m gonna savor it, I’m gonna take everything that’s mine.”
And with that, he pushed my knees back even further so that I was a feast before him, my butt almost lifted off the bed, my cunt so wet, so wide, so willing that every part of my lower region was now coated in cream, glistening in the low lights. And with a shake of his head and a deep growl, Chris went in. He lapped lightly at my labia first before circling my hole, and then slowly, oh so slowly, inched his tongue up my pussy.
“Ummm!” I cried mindlessly, the sensation amazing. I could feel that warm muscle moving up my channel, so soft yet strong, sure and slickly wet. “Umm!”
“Relax baby girl,” he muttered, backing away for a moment before pushing his tongue in once more. “Fuuuuck,” he groaned. Because it had happened, his tongue had pushed against the rubbery, sensitive barrier that proved my virginity, my innocence as a girl. And I don’t know what I was thinking but I wanted him so badly that I actually fucked my hips against his face, jerking slightly, like I wanted him to break my hymen with his tongue.
But the big man chuckled, holding me still, still lapping at my pussy.
“No baby, this is yours to give once, and I want to savor it. So hold still,” he commanded, and with another deep thrust of his tongue, was in my pussy once more, licking my hymen, testing its rubbery strength, lapping gently at the tissue while drinking my pussy cream.
And I couldn’t take it then. I was young, nubile, untested and inexperienced and I was no match for the sensations coursing through my body, the boundaries being pushed. So I came like a hurricane then, his tongue in my cunt, my little body juicing and giving it up, my pussy spasming uncontrollably on his mouth, squirts of cream running everywhere.
“Ohhh!” I screamed. “Mr. Jones, Mr. Jones!”
And as if in reply, he just pushed his tongue even further up my cunt, groaning into my folds, egging me onwards, the vibrations of his mouth like a motor on my pussy.
“Ohhh!” I screamed again as my vision went black, then white, my back arching off the bed, boobs bouncing wildly as electric jolts shot through my pelvic area, my cunt snapping and clamping, tidal waves coursing through my clit, making me shake, shiver and tremble. “Ohhh!”
And Chris just drank it all up, never moving his tongue from my cunt, burying it even deeper still, big hands caressing my thighs, hips and waist, touching me everywhere, soothing my untested body as it was ravaged by its first man-made orgasm. And I ground down hard on his face, my cunt creaming on him so that his chin and nose were coated with nectar, swallowing him in my soft folds, the swollen flesh spasming and twitching against his cheeks.
But the big man loved it, loved being face first in a woman’s pussy as she screamed his name and orgasmed. He savored every second, giving me light licks, teasing me with his tongue, kissing the soft flesh while stroking my body with his hands. And as I calmed and came back to Earth, Mr. Jones pulled back slowly, licking his lips, wiping his face with the back of his hand, smearing the cream a bit. I was so inexperienced that I half-expected him to say something silly, to make a joke about being smashed in my pussy or some other lame thing, but instead the big man leaned forward and dropped a kiss on my nipple before seizing my mouth with his, breathing in my scent, my breath, my essence, savoring everything I had to give.
“Thank you baby,” he said simply, looking into my eyes, that blue gaze serious, so arresting. “Thank you honey, that was amazing.”
And I melted into a puddle then, my insides going warm, my heart softening. Because whatever Mr. Jones wanted, whatever his desires … I was his for the next ten days.