Angry God

“There she is,” I murmured, “the girl from the fountain, all grown up.”

I crashed my mouth down on hers, lifting her by the backs of her knees and shoving her against the wall, my lips on hers throughout the process. Her shirt was in tatters, and she was spread wide and naked from the waist down, tugging at my jeans with intent.

“Condom,” I mumbled into her mouth, reaching for my back pocket to grab my wallet.

I’d believed Dad when he said he was going to rip me a new one if I made them grandparents before retirement, so I’d visited a local Boots a week ago to stock up on rubbers.

Also, I was stalling.

Okay, mainly stalling.

“No condom,” she pleaded into our kiss, grabbing me through my briefs once my jeans fell off, in a vise grip that surprised me. Girls were usually more timid than that. “I’m on the pill.”

I unglued my mouth from hers, frowning. “It’s your first time, right?”

“Yeah,” she panted, her lips unbelievably swollen and pink from our bruising kisses. “You?”

“Why are you on the pill, then?”

I was kind of hoping my choke-count would stay at one with Rafferty Pope, but knew damn well I was about to finish every motherfucker who’d touched her if I didn’t like the answer coming from her mouth.

“To regulate my periods, arsehole.” She rolled her eyes, annoyed.

I laughed when I kissed her again, plunging into her without analyzing what I was doing.

I didn’t expect to moan so loudly into her mouth. Almost like a plea.

But she was so tight—much tighter than a mouth or my fist—and warm and wet and delicious. A tremor ripped through me, and I felt my balls tightening so hard, even my ass muscles were clenched.

God. Fucking. Damn.

I counted to five Mississippi while inside her, taking a few labored breaths to regulate my pulse and the premature-spunk situation, and then I began to thrust, my desire so achingly prominent I couldn’t help but squeeze my eyes shut.

In. Out. In. Out. How could something so simple bring so much pleasure? It didn’t make sense. She moaned into our kiss, and I tugged her ribbons of gold hair to extend her neck, before deciding that watching her beautiful, infuriating face was distracting altogether and flipping her over so her back was to me.

I angled my wet, hard dick into her, plunging again. Much better.

“Ugh!” she cried out, even though I went slow, and I dropped my lips to her shoulder, refraining from kissing it, but just barely.

“Should I go slower?”

“I’ll die if you do. I think I’m going to come. It just hurts a little.”

“I’m sorry.” For some reason, I still hated saying those words.

“I expected it.” She was talking to the wall, bracing her hands against it, and I felt like such an asshole for flipping her.

I kept thrusting, tool that I was, knowing I was going to blow my load. It became excruciatingly painful not to come, like trying to hold back a sneeze halfway through.

“Oh, fuck, Len…”

“Hmm…” She was into it, slamming her ass against my groin, begging for more. Her ass cheeks were completely wet from her juices. So were my dick and balls.

“Keep going. I’m close.”

“I can’t, baby. I’m sorry.” I cringed. It’d been…what? Three minutes? And I was being generous with myself here. Oprah-gifting-people-cars generous.

“Damn.” My head fell back as I came inside her, emptying my entire three gallons of cum into her sweet pussy. I hadn’t realized just how much I needed my body against hers until I came.

We stood like that, both of us facing the wall, for just a second before I spun her around. She stared at me with those blue-green-hazel eyes of hers, which always fucked me up like no other rival ever could.

“I’m sorry,” I told her.

“Yeah, you said.” She flashed me a mischievous grin.

She didn’t look mad. I mean, not that she should be. But she didn’t come. I wanted her to come.

“I’ll make it up to you.” Fuck, I hated myself more with each apology.

“You can start by getting me some tissue. I’m leaking.”

She opened her legs slightly, and we both watched in the dim, faint light as thick, white cum slithered down her inner thigh, along the tattoo. There were traces of blood there, too. Not a lot, but enough to tint the liquid pink in some places.

I swallowed. “Did it hurt a lot?” I looked at her. Not that she gave a shit. She liked pain.

She shook her head. “Nah. I enjoyed it, for the most part.”

For the most part.

Silently, I backed her until her knees hit the bench, cradling her waist and head to lay her down gently, her ass perched on the edge of the bench, half in the air.

I kicked her legs apart and kneeled in front of her, using my thumbs to open her pussy lips. More white liquid spilled from her. I brushed it aside with my thumb.