Callie
“Let me drive,” he says.
I toss him the car keys. He climbs in, and I slide in next to him. He drives us down the street, stopping at the first motel he sees. In what seems like a few seconds, we have gone from the bar to a motel room. The room is cheap, with a thin mattress and a dim lamp and curtains which allow the glow of the streetlamps through, but it smells and looks clean. And we’re not here to admire the room, anyway.
Damien turns to me, looking rugged and handsome and wild and animal-like with his beard and his dark eyes. A predator and I am his prey. That thought makes me damn hot. I am his prey, and I have been waiting a year for my predator to find me.
He locks the door, finds the radiator and turns it on against the winter heat, and then stands close to me; he needn’t have touched the radiator, he is hot enough.
He reaches out and places his middle finger against my pussy, through my jeans, but even through my jeans the finger is full of bursting energy, the energy of waiting, the energy of anticipation. I close my legs around the finger, all whilst staring into each other’s eyes. Something has changed since we were last intimate. This is my baby’s father, even if he doesn’t know it, and now he has shared the most vulnerable part of himself with me. We are closer than we ever could’ve been before.
He rubs my jeans, and my jeans rub my panties, and the fabric of my panties rubs with burning friction against my clit. I close my legs tighter around his hand, staring into his bearded, hard face. Everything is tingling, begging to be touched. Right down to my feet, right up to my scalp; it is all-consuming lust like I have never felt.
I throw myself at him, unable to wait, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. Damien lifts me up and carries me to the bed, sets me down, and starts undressing me hungrily, quickly. I help him along, pulling my hoodie over my head as he pulls down my pants. I am about to pull my T-shirt over my head when I remember the pregnancy, and the stretch marks. I used all the right creams, took all the right precautions, but of course a baby is a baby and stretch marks are unavoidable.
He pulls down my panties and stares at my pussy, black pupils dilated, mouth twisted in pleasure. He looks at my T-shirt, raises an eyebrow.
“I’m cold,” I say. “I’m going to keep it on.”
For a second, I think he might argue, but then he just starts stripping, throwing his leather and his shirt and his pants and finally his underwear to the floor. He places his big silver gun on the TV stand. He stands before me, naked, huge cock hard, almost as if it’s bursting with the same pent-up lust which is surging through me.
“Do you want it, Callie?” he asks, a wicked teasing note in his voice.
I don’t answer with words. Instead, I lean up and take his cock in my hand. It’s even bigger than I remember, and it feels right in my palm, feels like it belongs. I grab it firmly, and then bring my mouth to the tip. I’ve never been one for enjoying giving blowjobs, but this is different. This is Damien, and listening to him moan as I bob my head up and down, work my tongue around the shaft of his cock, is heaven. He moves his hand through my hair, scratching my scalp, as I suck him.
I reach down with my free hand to touch my clit, probe it gently, and then rub it.
But we’re both too horny to mess around with foreplay for too long. There’s a time for foreplay, and there are times like these, when the two of us are too mad with lust.
He grabs me by the shoulders, tosses me into the bed, and leans over me. I open my legs, and then, without further messing around, he thrusts his hips and slides into me. These first moments—the seconds which stretch like minutes in my body, my mind—are the sweetest relief of pleasure I have ever felt. I have fantasized about this for a year, waking sometimes in deep night with the phantom sensation his cock between my thighs, deep inside of me, soaking wet and hungry for the real thing. Now he slides into me, and pleasure consumes my entire lower half. I force myself to keep my eyes open, focus on his face, which contorts in the same pleasure which grips me. He lets out a low growl when his entire cock is inside of me, the tip pushing firmly against my buzzing spot.
“Fuck,” he says, staring hard at my face. “Fuck, Callie. Fuck.”
I reach up and cradle his face, his beard tickling my palm. “I know. Take me, Damien. Take me. I want it so fucking badly.”
The father of my child has his cock inside of me: his thick, long, rock-hard cock. The thought drives me wild, but not as wild as the teeming nerves which send teeming fingers of pleasure all over my body as he slides out of me, slowly, and then—and then pounds into me quickly, stretching me out. He grins when he sees my shocked, pleasure-filled face.
He fucks me, then, fucks me and makes love to me at the same time. Propping his thorny arms either side of my head, he thrusts his hips, his muscles shifting like the cogs of a powerful machine, pounding his cock in and out of my pussy. I reach around and grab the thorny garden on his back, thinking it fitting that all this started with thorns, and now here we are, over a year later, and once again thorns are pushing us on. I dig my fingernails in and he makes a growling noise, fucking me harder.
I bounce up and down on his cock, but then I want it dirtier, nastier, closer; my lust demands it.
“Fucking flip me over,” I moan, speaking with more confidence than I ever would’ve dared to in my rodent life; the bedroom was a scary place for rodent Callie. For mother Callie, it is not. “Flip me over and treat me like your whore, Damien.”
He doesn’t need to be asked twice. He pulls out of me, flips me with one hand like I am weightless, and then pushes me flat onto the bed and falls atop me, the entire weight of his muscular body concentrated into his cock as he slides it inside of me. He holds himself up with one hand. With his other, he massages my ass as he fucks me. I bite down on the sheets so hard my jaw aches, bite down as his cock jackhammers into my pussy, until my sweet spot seems to grow inside of me, hotter, larger, electric impulses surging into it.
“Fuck—”
I bite down harder and rock back and forth as his cock smashes me. Drills me. He is fucking me so hard now that the bed sags, creaks, sounds as though it might snap in half. But then all noise is gone, the creaking, his moans, my stifled cries, all of it drifting into another land, faraway, and all I hear, all I see, all I feel is his cock pound into me. Smash, smash, into my hot spot, making it hotter, my entire world honed down to that one sensation. His cock is too big for my pussy, but my pussy doesn’t give a fuck; it takes all of him, pulls him in, and, and—
The pleasure mounts, getting so hot now I feel like there is a blowtorch inside of me, a searing blue tongue of heat against my sweet spot, and when I think the tongue has gotten as hot as it can, Damien fucks me with even more animal ferocity and the tongue explodes heat against my sweet spot. I can feel it now, the orgasm, so close, the moment I have been waiting over a year for. The father of my child is pounding me into the bed, drilling me, fucking me so hard I can barely think, barely breathe. The father of my child—and oh fuck, here it comes, hot, wet, soaking, hot, hot, hot—and fuck, yes, yes, fuck—
Everything stops. I feel as though I am floating, the only part of me still tethered to reality my sweet spot, engorged, being pommeled by Damien’s cock. I float, higher, higher, and it’s like I’m looking down: seeing this huge, muscled-bound man thrusting into this thin, sleek woman, completely at his mercy, thrilled to be completely at his mercy. And then I fall back into my body and the orgasm hits me with the force of a speeding truck.
I gasp, bury my face in the sheets, gasp again and get a mouthful of fabric. My pussy goes tighter than it ever has before, with Damien or anybody else, so tight that Damien, with all his strength, has to grip the sheets with both hands and pull himself forcefully inside of me. I hear his breath catch, but mostly I feel the tightening of my pussy, the orgasm gathering the pleasure, and then the immediate loosening as the pleasure is thrown outwards. I tilt my hips, angling his cock inside of me, and ride the orgasm as I pant and gasp and moan and cry. I bounce, and the orgasm gets hotter, deeper, until every single inch of my skin is being seared by that blowtorch heat, until every part of me is a burning, scorched mass of euphoria. I tilt my hips again, and feel myself come over his cock, hear Damien’s moans of pleasure as he watches my come slide down his rock-hard cock. Yes, yes, yes, fucking hell, this is what I have been waiting for, waiting too long for, this is what I need. This is it. This is fucking it.
I ride the orgasm for what feels like hours, and then everything is a blur and I feel Damien emptying himself inside of me, leaning down and biting my shoulder, and then the two of us lie spent on the pleasure-soaked sheets, panting, and finally holding each other close and naked and drifting off to a contended sleep.
Probably the most contended sleep either of us has experienced since we last met.