Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Struck dumb, my face reddening, I stare at him.
‘It was nothing. A bit of vomit,’ he says kindly.
‘I … er … should brush my teeth,’ I say and move to basin. I squeeze some toothpaste on my toothbrush and quickly clean my teeth. Our eyes meet in the mirror.
‘You should have seen your face though,’ he says, his eyes full of mischief.
‘You should have seen yours,’ I retort.
He smiles and so do I. We are like two kids trying to make friends for the first time. He stops smiling and so do I. He bites his lower lip in such an unconsciously seductive gesture I feel something inside me contract and can only hope it is not my stomach. I quickly look away, spit, rinse my mouth, and put my brush back into its holder. I look up and he is still looking at me.
‘I’ll clean up the mess. The smell …,’ I trail away embarrassed.
‘It’s OK,’ he murmurs. ‘We’ll sleep in your room tonight.’
By now the shower stall has filled with steam. He opens the door and we step into it. Deliciously warm water sprays down on us and washes away my sick. Zane pours liquid soap into his palm and rubs it on my chest, my breast and down my body.
I squirt some onto my hand and rub it on his abs, his flat stomach, and lower still. I notice that his cock is no longer at half-mast but hard as fucking steel. I pour more soap and languorously stroke his cock. My slippery hands pull at it and he groans. I cup his balls and massage them gently while my other hand carries on tugging firmly at his cock.
He pivots me around and my palms slap against the tiles. I exhale as he grabs my hips and tilts them upwards. Warm water beats down on my head and back with sensuous insistence as the blunt head of his cock starts to part then slide into my pussy. I push eagerly towards it taking him deeper into my body until I feel his balls on my pussy lips. I wriggle my ass and it sends tremors of pleasure shooting into my veins.
‘Don’t stop,’ he growls and I hear the thick hot lust in his voice.
I press my legs together to make my sex tighter and grind myself into his groin.
‘Oh fuck. You’re so fucking tight,’ he groans.
My pussy throbbing with pleasure I attain greater and greater heights of pleasure. My eyes turn half-shut. My pussy wants to feel him explode inside, feel his hot cum shooting deep into it. I start bouncing on his shaft, harder and harder, but it’s not enough. The craving for him is like fingers inside my belly. I want him to thrust like the wild beast he is.
‘Take me harder than you’ve ever done,’ I cry harshly.
He doesn’t need a second invitation. He grabs my hips and pounds me so hard and so damn deep my feet come off the floor and I am suspended in the air. He keeps going like that, his hard cock punishing my wet and hungry sex until a shuddering, pulsing climax overtakes us. For a while we remain joined and breathing heavily, the soft rain sluicing down our heaving bodies, then he withdraws and the water washes away all history of our coupling.
In a rare moment of tenderness he wraps me in a towel and gently pats me dry. I stare at his dark head. If only it could always be like this.
If only.
Ten
Aleksandr Malenkov
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jWFb5z3kUSQ
I am ten years old tomorrow. I can punch and I can take a punch. There is no school tomorrow. I hang my uniform in my cupboard and hear my father roar at my mother from the living room. There is something wrong with his tea. It may be too sweet or not sweet enough. The walls are thin and I hear my mother walking into the living room.
I close the cupboard. It is one of those old ones with a beveled mirror on the door. I look at my reflection. The first thing everyone sees when they first meet me is my eyes. I look into them and it is like looking into a stranger’s eyes. I hear my mother reply, her voice is muffled, placating, frightened. Then come the inevitable flat, dull sound of her flesh being hit. I turn away from the mirror and walk to my door. I open it and go into the living room.
‘Papa,’ I say.
My father turns his murderous gaze my way and starts advancing on me. He is drunk. My mother grabs his arm and tries to pull him back.
‘Leave him alone,’ she pleads.
He elbows her in the neck and she falls to the floor choking.
My fists clench. God, I hate my father.
Blood pulses through my ears, the world becomes silent. There is only me and him. He comes up to me and swings his fist. I evade it easily. With a roar of anger he swings again. This time more wildly. I duck. He misses. His fist crashes into the wall. His eyes almost pop with pain and he bellows with fury.