skidded across the counter and crashed to the floor with a satisfying thud.
“Oh God, fuck me. Fuck me hard,” Dana begged.
Lon grabbed her hand and shoved it between her legs. He guided her fingers over the nerve center as if teaching her how to masturbate. Their hands moved together to rub her clit, bumped against his thrusting cock. “Touch yourself like you did in the pool.” His guttural command spiked her desire.
“Hang on, honey.” He fastened his cream-slickened hands on her hips to anchor her as he pounded his cock into her wet depths. His thighs smacked the back of her legs with each forward thrust, the slapping mingling with his ragged breathing and her panting moans. His balls swung against her hand as her fingers flew frantically over her clit.
A tornado whirled within. Light, sound, and touch fused and split, condensed and expanded until her entire body throbbed with the most savage intensity centering in her clit and pussy. Coiled heat. Tighter. Tighter. She wound into a spring. And snapped.
Dana wailed as an orgasm exploded from her core, radiating out to all parts.
Her cunt convulsed around Lon’s pulsing cock as he came, swearing with each ramming thrust.
* * * *
Lon carried the tray of microwaved Chinese food to Dana’s patio, prurient satisfaction welling in his chest. The thought of his kitchen caper was getting him hard and ready for a second round. He hadn’t expected Dana to talk to her boss while he fucked her, but holy crap. She was one hot, wild lady. The noises she made—tried not to make—the way she’d creamed over his hand and dick, had proven how turned on she was. He loved how she’d abandoned herself to the experience.
By its nature, sex wasn’t a chaste act, so why pretend it was? He wanted to get messy, even dirty, with Dana.
Lon set the tray on the table, and Dana came up beside him with two wineglasses. The moon still appeared nearly full, and under its light, her eyes sparkled and her pearly skin glowed, her cheeks flushed with a hint of color.
“I have no idea what I’m going to tell my boss on Monday,” she said in her woody-inspiring phone-sex-operator voice.
“Sorry,” he lied, not the least bit repentant. He recalled his childhood phone pranks—Dana certainly got his refrigerator running! He pulled her to him for a kiss. She yielded against him as he took his fill of her mouth and slipped his hand under her dress to caress her naked ass cheek. She’d left her underwear on the floor where it belonged.
But he needed to feed her so she could maintain her energy, because he was nowhere done with her yet. Reluctantly, he withdrew his hand.
“You went all out.” Lon eyed the table she’d set with a cheery cloth, a vase of pink flowers clipped from the nearby poolside pots, and candles. With a striker, she lit them, and he detected the scent of citronella. Lon lifted his shoulders in a self-deprecating shrug. “All I brought was dinner in a box.”
“Several boxes, and it’s what’s in them that counts.”
“I’m sorry I got tied up.”
Dana shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. I imagine this is only the start of the demands of being a doctor.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. In his second year of residency, his schedule was still arduous and often erratic. It didn’t leave him much time to date, but for Dana, he’d make the effort.
They settled into their seats, dished up the Chinese food, poured the wine. Lon realized he was hungrier than he’d thought; he’d worked up an appetite. There was none of the first-date awkwardness that sometimes occurred, but of course, they’d already shared intimacies usually reserved for relationships of greater duration.
With a start, Lon realized he was thinking of his time with Dana as a relationship. He eyed his brothers’ tree house. He’d been a little annoyed that his folks had asked him to retrieve the camera. Work had been a bitch that day, and he’d wanted to crash at his apartment. Call it
“Oh God, fuck me. Fuck me hard,” Dana begged.
Lon grabbed her hand and shoved it between her legs. He guided her fingers over the nerve center as if teaching her how to masturbate. Their hands moved together to rub her clit, bumped against his thrusting cock. “Touch yourself like you did in the pool.” His guttural command spiked her desire.
“Hang on, honey.” He fastened his cream-slickened hands on her hips to anchor her as he pounded his cock into her wet depths. His thighs smacked the back of her legs with each forward thrust, the slapping mingling with his ragged breathing and her panting moans. His balls swung against her hand as her fingers flew frantically over her clit.
A tornado whirled within. Light, sound, and touch fused and split, condensed and expanded until her entire body throbbed with the most savage intensity centering in her clit and pussy. Coiled heat. Tighter. Tighter. She wound into a spring. And snapped.
Dana wailed as an orgasm exploded from her core, radiating out to all parts.
Her cunt convulsed around Lon’s pulsing cock as he came, swearing with each ramming thrust.
* * * *
Lon carried the tray of microwaved Chinese food to Dana’s patio, prurient satisfaction welling in his chest. The thought of his kitchen caper was getting him hard and ready for a second round. He hadn’t expected Dana to talk to her boss while he fucked her, but holy crap. She was one hot, wild lady. The noises she made—tried not to make—the way she’d creamed over his hand and dick, had proven how turned on she was. He loved how she’d abandoned herself to the experience.
By its nature, sex wasn’t a chaste act, so why pretend it was? He wanted to get messy, even dirty, with Dana.
Lon set the tray on the table, and Dana came up beside him with two wineglasses. The moon still appeared nearly full, and under its light, her eyes sparkled and her pearly skin glowed, her cheeks flushed with a hint of color.
“I have no idea what I’m going to tell my boss on Monday,” she said in her woody-inspiring phone-sex-operator voice.
“Sorry,” he lied, not the least bit repentant. He recalled his childhood phone pranks—Dana certainly got his refrigerator running! He pulled her to him for a kiss. She yielded against him as he took his fill of her mouth and slipped his hand under her dress to caress her naked ass cheek. She’d left her underwear on the floor where it belonged.
But he needed to feed her so she could maintain her energy, because he was nowhere done with her yet. Reluctantly, he withdrew his hand.
“You went all out.” Lon eyed the table she’d set with a cheery cloth, a vase of pink flowers clipped from the nearby poolside pots, and candles. With a striker, she lit them, and he detected the scent of citronella. Lon lifted his shoulders in a self-deprecating shrug. “All I brought was dinner in a box.”
“Several boxes, and it’s what’s in them that counts.”
“I’m sorry I got tied up.”
Dana shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. I imagine this is only the start of the demands of being a doctor.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. In his second year of residency, his schedule was still arduous and often erratic. It didn’t leave him much time to date, but for Dana, he’d make the effort.
They settled into their seats, dished up the Chinese food, poured the wine. Lon realized he was hungrier than he’d thought; he’d worked up an appetite. There was none of the first-date awkwardness that sometimes occurred, but of course, they’d already shared intimacies usually reserved for relationships of greater duration.
With a start, Lon realized he was thinking of his time with Dana as a relationship. He eyed his brothers’ tree house. He’d been a little annoyed that his folks had asked him to retrieve the camera. Work had been a bitch that day, and he’d wanted to crash at his apartment. Call it
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