Not So Innocent
A Daydream & Distraction
All the boys know you’d make a good lay. But this?
This is never what she meant. This isn’t what you meant. Each sharp thrust already makes you bite your lip and hiccup. You’re on your belly, cheek pressed against the bed, and you tightly grip the top of the mattress.
Your try not to wake her.
Your toes are pointed and off the bed. The flats of your feet are arched. Your legs are together but he fucks you from behind. He rises till just the tip can plunge again. He thrusts and thrusts and you wait for the last, sudden plunge, the steely fingers, the grip that won’t let go, the deep, moistening bursts inside you.
You bite the pillow.
You smell sweat. You taste his finger and suck. He owns your mouth. He owns your pussy. You’re a mounted woman.
You whine. You mewl. Your nostrils flare. His thrusts make you grunt. Your best friend, the woman who trusted you, is waking up. You want to say something, anything.
She sees you on the bed next to her.
She sees her boyfriend fucking you from. The breeze is hot. The moon is full. The shaft cuts through the window and lights your backs. All you can manage is a long groan as your orgasm beings. He plunges. His steely fingers hold your hip. You want to say how sorry you are. He pulses inside you.
All she does — is grin.
November 28 2009