Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 53088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
And being with her is so good. Because of course, I want that plump body. I can’t get enough, we do it four or five times a day at least. There’ve been countless escapades in my office, in the library, not to mention entire weekends spent in bed, making the girl cream and moan.
So yeah, life is amazing. And to show her just how much I love it, I got into Beth’s space and put my arms around that curvy form from the back. Oh fuck. Her neck smelled delicious so I kissed it, making her giggle and turn, offering her mouth. So good. Soon, her taste had me pushing for more until she was backed up against the counter, the spoon dropping out of her hand to clatter to the floor.
“Oh god, Mason,” she breathed, wanting it as much as me. And like a good little slut, she gyrated a bit, rubbing her tummy against my stiffness. Oh yeah, this girl gets cock for breakfast every day, and yet it’s not enough.
So indulging her needs, I slipped a hand up that skirt and brushed lightly at her bare snatch, tickling a bit. Good girl. Beth never wears panties anymore, giving me full access all the time.
And with a liquid plunge, I was in. Two fingers deep into that steaming twat, right here at the kitchen counter with the Bolognese sauce simmering away. Mmm. So good. So hot, wet and juicy all the time.
“Unnh!” the girl cried out, tilting her head back, eyes falling closed. “Oh Mason!”
I was getting ready to free the monster for a solid dicking when suddenly her eyes flew open, the big brown pools halfway panicked.
“We have to stop!” she gasped. “I don’t want to burn the food.” Of course, Beth kept her legs spread wide open, sliding her hot twat up and down my fingers even as she spoke.
But I’m a good man.
A moral one.
So with feigned reluctance, I let her go. The brunette’s proud of her cooking and hated to ruin a good meal. Plus, I was starving.
“All right.” Smirking, I pulled my fingers out of her snatch and popped them into my mouth, tasting that honey.
“I’ll go change, big girl. Be back in a flash.” And finishing my pungent snack, I backed away with my arms up in surrender, turning to head into the master.
“When you get back, the food should be ready,” she called, still somewhat preoccupied, eyes dreamy. “Five minutes.”
I nodded, palming my stiffie gently. Fuck. Five minutes? When was I gonna be in that tight little body again? But in the bedroom, I changed into workout sweats and a thin T-shirt. Yeah, no need to impress, I’m a handsome motherfucker even in scummy clothes. Suddenly, the sound of whistling penetrated my brain, making me jerk. Who was that? Where was it coming from?
But then realization dawned. Holy shit. It was me. I was the one whistling like I was in some kind of fairy tale, Hansel and Gretel walking without a care in the woods. What the fuck?
But the mirror on the dresser reflected the satisfied smile on my face.
Shit.
The smile dropped away.
I was so fucked.
Maybe Rhonda was right.
I was exuding happiness all the time, whistling like the Pied Piper for crying out loud.
What the hell?
I should’ve been happy because yeah, this is what I wanted.
A picture of that creamy snatch with the hymen intact inside.
A pic of my dick afterwards, smeared with her sweet, virginal blood.
Beth, moaning and sighing in my arms, face visible.
So yeah, I did it. I win. Ultimate champion, right here everyone.
But somehow, it went way beyond that.
Way, way beyond.
Because Beth and I have been playing house since that evening in my office. She was supposed to be a means to an end, nothing else. A female body for me to use and abuse, and then throw away afterwards.
But now the brunette is in my life.
Puttering in my kitchen, cooking dinner for us to enjoy together.
Doing my laundry sometimes, tidying up my closet.
And damn, but it felt right.
“Dinner’s ready!” sounded the girl’s sweet lilt.
I couldn’t speak for a moment.
“Coming,” I managed on a strangled rasp. “Coming!”
Man, this woman had me wrapped around her finger, I was like a dog responding to Pavlov’s bell.
And at the dining table, Beth already had two plates of spaghetti out on fine white chinaware. There was garlic bread, grated parmesan in a little white bowl, and a big serving dish of hearty red sauce, bubbling and thick. Each place setting had a glass of iced water with fresh mint leaves floating inside, tinkling with perfectly square cubes. My stomach growled hungrily, making Beth giggle.
“Sit down and I’ll finish making your plate,” she murmured.
I was quick to demur.
“Naw honey, you sit. After cooking for us, you deserve to relax. Come on, I’ll do the honors.”