Compared to what I had seen tonight, Samson was a butch change on the menu and I wanted to have my picking. He was way bigger than the other Alphas that were praying for my attention. He was a little different in the outfit department: formal, but I liked that. He was not that much older, but definitely had an air of seriousness that I found pleasing.

The other Alphas were less in their own zone. Samson didn’t want to be there. And in odd ways neither did I. I knew what my duty was, and figured that either way I had to deal with the situation.

And his smell… I took it in as I tried to lay back and control the urge to pounce upon him. He had his legs spread-open and I huddled with my legs close together as the sexual tension started to bubble and his legs started to twitch as he could sense what I wanted from him.

He ate. I ate. The silence building into the inability to concentrate on anything other than ourselves. The party raved all around, and we were lost in each other’s bodily fragrance. Samson’s was woodsy, like fresh bark on a tree that is older than the majority of the earth.

A pinewood finish with insects and dampness. I wanted him right there and no hesitation. I gave in to my desire and placed down my plate and allowed my hand to rest on his thigh. He stiffened so tightly that I kept it there to make it painful. He could barely move. But I released him and moved closer, so he could hear, “I want to tell you something.”

Samson peered at me still recovering from my hand leaving his leg. “What?”

I gripped his collar and the direction of his head caused both our noses to touch at the bridge. “I want a baby.”

Samson’s reaction was typical. He was up and ready for it.

“In my room,” I tell him. I get to my feet when I’m sure he gets it.

He agreed. And I led him there to have our session.

* * *

We nearly didn’t make it to the room. We made out with our lips crashing and tongues waggling with each other’s idea of tongue-a-lingus. I had to stop him half-way as he grabbed my manhood and told him again in a heated daze, “In my room.”

“Where is it?”

I point.

He feverishly kissed me and sent chills down to my piece as he dragged me in there and pressed me against the wall. It was a muddle as we ran fingers through each other’s hair: him pressing up against me with his hand aggressively rubbing and me doing my best to return the favour.

He dry humped me and I opened a little more for him to have that pleasure. It was full of harsh grunts and I found him upon my neck and tearing off my clothes as he tilted my head to the side with a lick and a kiss. I moan as he tried to become gentler. But Samson didn’t know the meaning of the word.

It was rough. And I enjoyed it…until he fell to his knees; unbuckled my zipper; revealing my piece and whipped out his tongue to lick my glands. I cover them…he peers up at me like a sad puppy for a second. “What’s wrong?”

“No biting.”

It didn’t turn him off. It did stiffen the mood, but we pushed through it. I sensed he didn’t get it. And that was ok. I just wanted him to continue with the rhythm that he was going at. He did, and gave my piece a soft kiss. A little condescending, but I changed the channel and found some little strength by raising him back to his feet. He followed, I kissed him briefly, and then unbuckled his trousers and undid his zipper.

They came undone. I pursued, taking it into my hands and yanked-a-doodle while I rested my palm against his flat stomach. He took off his shirt and I ran my palm up and down his navel area. I started to lick-and-lick, and he moaned for me to keep doing it like that.

I listened to him. He rubbed the top of my head: giving it a little rustle and then gripped enough to have a chunk in his hand. It was time to wrap my full mouth around there and I did…slavering until his hand scuffled into a fist and he thumped the back of the wall. He was getting hard, and I was getting wet.

I needed to fiddle with my behind. He noticed, and took this as a cue to lift my chunk of hair – that helped with removing my mouth from his Johnny, and making his way rapidly to the bed. I followed, and he turned me over onto my back, pulled down my trousers and stuck his tongue clean in. I was moist, but he dove in and devoured me until I was pulled an exorcism of a face.

It was that deformed. And soon enough, he was inside me; crazily pumping away as I lay on the bottom. He was on a mission to make me lose my voice. My vocal chords were exercised and spent. And soon my ass became sore. But he went on…and on… and I fell onto the bed and stretched my arms before me as he came down to the level where my neck was and kissed my cheek before leaving his head at the side and going in deep.

When he came, we were sweatier than two men who worked in an underground mine. He yelled, “I’m coming.”

I said, “No, keep going.”

But he couldn’t, and blissfully came to a screaming end from him. I was filled with his sticky fruit juice.

It was very interesting to me, as I cleaned my legs and thighs with a towel from the bathroom cabinet. To wipe away the whiteness from an Alpha who had rocked my bed and caused a few couples to bang on the walls to keep the noise down. They were just jealous.

It was no fakery. All the noise I was forced to make was because of the connection that had me in stiches. And not the laughing kind. Getting up from the bed was like a stick keeping my inner thighs apart as I tried my best to feel them. Samson fucked my legs into a coma. They were the kind that Pinocchio would use. I had to walk the room until my muscles started to work again.

I left him to sleep. A peaceful snore on the side of my ear at first. And then a realization came over me that I needed to leave before he got up. I packed the little things that I’d brought, which was mainly myself and a small bag with a clean t- shirt and drawers, and went to wake up my little sister who frantically wanted to sleep. But I needed to leave and that would not be an option.

“Let me sleep.”

“We need to leave, now!”

She actually listened. I did a better job than my father when it came to authority over the little madam.

It was early hours. And for whoever had to clean that mess, I left them a tip. Because those bedsheets will be covered with more than just little critters. If sperm had legs, then I wished them all the best. No insult to the cleanliness, but I’m sure I saw a bed-bug.

I expected to be slipping out unnoticed with my little sister holding my hand; rubbing her eyes awake; and her head flopping because she still hadn’t realized that she was on her legs and leaving. I had to pick her up and set her down a few times when we came down the stairs. When we reached the bottom, I cut through the hall with Fiona grumbling something about breakfast.

I ignored her. But I couldn’t avoid Steven whose hands were on his waist as if I’d done something very naughty by sneaking my way out. “And where is the queen of the ball going?”

“Oh, sweetie.” I go overboard with him. “I have to slip off and enjoy the morning rays.”

“Liar.” He squinted and leaned in with a whisper, “I saw who you brought to your room last night. And whooooooo! You and Samson were locked in lip-sation. No words, just pure lustfulness. Tell me I’m describing that in the best way possible?”

“It was good.”

Steven claps his hands and keeps them locked together as he wooo-hooo’s again.

“But that’s all it’s going to stay at. A good experience.”

“Arden, but you two were stallions, babe. It was sticky glue and no breaking that apart. Are you sure that’s all you want it to stay as? Just a one-night stand?”

“Yes.” Fiona finally coming to prompts me to whisper to Steven, “No more sexual talk.”

She rubbed her eyes and spread her arms for a hug. I lifted her into my arms instead. And carried her off home. Not wanting to think on that one-night stand.