Derelict - Sex Stories

Derelict

... hiding. His ungroomed mustache and beard veiled his smile. His eerie quietude and reticence masked his intentions. Silence still? Okay, maybe he doesn’t speak English. Resolved, I bolted down the hall for the linen closet. From the three rows of perfectly folded and immaculately placed bath items, I gathered two washcloths, a towel, a new toothbrush, toothpaste, and a fresh bar of soap. I returned to the kitchen, opened a drawer, snatched a trash bag, and laid it on top of my gift for Adam. A quick jerk of my head beckoned him to follow. He stood and followed me into the guest bathroom. “Here you go. You can put your clothes in this trash bag. I have some double XL men’s sweats here that should fit you just fine.” *** In the beginning, I thought it would last forever. He pushed the double XL sweat pants to his ankles and tugged on the waistband of his shorts. He took his time unfolding the hardness pressed up against his torso. Flickering moments of candlelight revealed his slightly rounded belly, obviously the result of one too many beers and twenty or so too many Buffalo wings. Nevertheless, the plumpness did not deter his movements, his intentions. In one quick movement, he spit into his hand and began stroking. His eyes, the glare never broke contact with my soul, not for one second. I did not want to; I really didn’t. But I did anyway. The décor in the entire loft was monochromatic, all white: alabaster sofas, ivory area rugs, powder bathroom sinks and tubs, and two ...

... snow covered bedrooms. White on white layers shielded me from him. A flat sheet, pearl knit blanket, and a snow goose down comforter concealed my nakedness. Naked and covered, I peeked over the comforter to watch him rub his full length; each stroke ended in a guttural grunt. I shuffled about loosening the tucked sheets from between the mattress and box spring, finally grasping my left breast, my left nipple. I eased the dark date into my mouth. I suckled and practiced nursing the loneliness that would soon follow what we were about to do. The first drops of honey rolled down my cavern, and my vulva ached so that I wondered if I’d started my cycle. Reluctant, I had to investigate. My cocoa mons was swollen twice its normal size. A single landing strip of hairs lay flat and damp. Midway down my crease felt sticky and ready. I shuddered as I swiped and dipped into my opening with my fingertip. I took a close look at my drippings; they were clear. Instinctively, my finger went into my mouth to relish the sugariness. And he was standing there, pants around his ankles, staring at my naughtiness. He let go of his strength just long enough to free one leg from its obstacle, and then he made his way toward me, underneath the fluffy cloud. Without a word spoken, he snatched the comforter, blanket, and sheet off me and threw it onto the floor. With one hand, he went back to pulling himself, and with the other, he pried my finger from my mouth and placed my hand on my yoni; he had other ...