42 Filthy Fucking Stories (41 page)

Sarah was the softest point in any one of his days, a time when Chris could relax, vent his feelings, and remember what it felt like to be a man. He wondered if Sarah knew how many times he’d put mayo on his knuckle sandwich, closing his eyes to the stories she told—all the things she wanted him to do to her, and in all her many places.
 

Knowing Sarah, she probably did.
 

Chris slowed the XTerra as he turned onto Nantucket, the street his best friend Pete grew up on, and where Sarah was living now. The butterflies started deep in his belly, then fluttered upwards and started fucking with his throat.
 

Damn!
 

Chris slapped the steering wheel. This was the moment of truth. He had called Sarah when he flew back into town, since she said she wanted to “hang out,” but he still wasn’t sure if the whole thing was just her fucking with him since there was no risk when things were long distance.
 

But she sounded thrilled when he’d called, and didn’t miss a beat when he invited himself over. “It’s Pittsburgh vs. Virginia Tech tonight, why don’t you bring some beer and I’ll make us a pizza.”
 

Chris couldn’t fucking believe it. His dream girl just kept putting more sprinkles on the donut. Sarah was making time for him, letting him know he was important. She was a single mother with few free moments since her baby daddy split town three years before and left her to deal with their kid, a tall stack of bills, and a metric ton of bullshit.

She was sending her son, Stephen, to her mom’s for the weekend. He and Sarah got along great, and things might be magic between them, but they might not be, too, which meant that meeting her kid was probably a shit thing to do on a first date, for both of them.
 

Chris pulled the XTerra into the driveway and killed the engine. A second later, Sarah stuck her head out the door and waved, looking hot as ever and probably hotter. He sighed, whispered, “Moment of truth, big guy,” then stepped from the Xterra, circled around to the other side, and pulled the beer from the passenger’s seat.
 

Chris walked up the stairs, slinging the second 12-pack of beer under his arm to free a hand for the door, but Sarah swung it wide just as he was reaching for the knob. “Hey you!” She gave him the same greeting she always used, whether online or texting, and apparently in person, too.
 

He soaked in the reality of her smiling face and flowery scent as she stood just feet away, dressed in baggy sweats and a tight white tank that made it all too easy to see her black and pink bra beneath. Sarah’s long, straight blonde hair hung nearly to her waist. “Come in,” she said, swinging the door wider.

Chris stepped inside the house and into Sarah’s open arms. She gave him a giant hug, then told him to follow her to the kitchen so he could drop the beer. She was dressed like she just crawled from bed, but with fresh makeup and straightened hair. She pointed to the counter, where Chris set the beers down, then looked over at the small bowls of ingredients and the half-made pizza. It looked like Sarah actually meant it when she said she would “make a pizza.”

“Holy shit!” Chris said, “I figured you were talking about making a frozen pizza,” he laughed, watching her press her pelvis to the counter and slip her fingers into the dough.
 

“You’re kidding, right? My pizza is way better than any frozen shit,” she said, looking up from the dough long enough to wink.

“Yeah, you let me be the judge of that,” Chris smiled, leaving the kitchen, planting himself on the couch, then turning to watch her.
 

“Comfortable already?” Sarah looked up. “Don’t they teach you any initiative in the army? Why don’t you get up off your ass and put the beer in the fridge?” She tilted her head toward the beer. “Unless you like it warm.”
 

Chris laughed, then lifted himself from the couch and started putting the beer in the fridge, a bottle at a time. “I didn’t know I’d have to work,” he mock complained, “or I wouldn’t have come over.”

“Yes you would have,” Sarah said. “And we both know it.” She smacked him playfully on the ass. “Now shut your mouth. I’m making you homemade pizza, and that’s a lot harder than buying beer and putting it away.”

“Alright, you win,” Chris said, grinning into the fridge, “But I’ve been defending freedom, doesn’t that count for something?”

“Sure,” she laughed, “unless it means I didn’t win!”
 

Sarah kept kneading the dough as Chris continued pulling beer from the boxes until they were empty, then he set the empties in the corner of the small kitchen and crossed the cool tile back toward the carpeted living room.
 

Sarah grabbed the remote from the counter and clicked on the pre-game. Chris was thankful he had something to look at. Sarah wasn’t exactly thin, but she had a small waist and not one wasted curve; the same curves that were threatening to make his fuckstick go straight.
 

Over the last six months, they’d passed confessions between them like weed at a concert. Sarah had told him all about how she was used to bringing men back to the house. She tended bar and sometimes brought a select few of her regulars home for the night to help ease the loneliness when her son was spending time at her mother’s. Sarah didn’t consider it whoring, just wanted their touch for the night. They were content to give it, then leave in the morning with no discussion.
 

She opened the fridge and grabbed two beers with one hand, then expertly twisted the tops as she sauntered into the living room and dangled one of the bottles in front of his face, waiting for him to grab it before sinking into the couch beside him.
 

Sarah smelled of Dove and strawberry shampoo. The scent curled from her hair and into his nose, and reminded his cock of the possibilities. Chris had to laugh at himself for being so goddamn nervous. A happy ending to the evening seemed like a sure thing, and yet for some reason he was still thinking he was gonna somehow fuck it up.
 

Sarah downed half her beer in three swallows, gulped the rest after a few long minutes of silence, then popped up from the couch to throw her empty away and spread the dough on a pan.
 

She ladled the sauce, then spread it over the dough, adding pepperoni, cheese, and a thin layer of sausage across the top before putting it into the oven and walking over to the refrigerator to grab another beer.
 

“Ready for another?” she asked, still standing with the door open.
 

“Yeah,” he peered inside his empty bottle. She walked up to Chris, then traded his full beer, taking his empty and throwing it in the trash. “I was kidding about making me work. I could have done that,” he said.

“I know, I just didn’t want to hear you whine about it later.” Another grin graced her lips before they disappeared behind her bottle and another long swig. He chuckled as she returned to the couch. Chris decided to go for it:
 

“I think I might be ready for that back rub you promised me months ago.”

“Oh really?” Sarah said, laughing. “Alright then, hop down and get on the floor.” Chris did as instructed and lay on his stomach. She sat on his ass and pulled the bottom of his shirt up. “You’re going to have to take that off.”

He propped himself on his elbows, pulled his shirt over his head, then lay back down. He felt her small, warm hands kneading the muscles in his back, just as they had kneaded the dough now in the oven. She rubbed his muscles hard, then ran her hands softly along the length of his back.
 

Sarah continued for the next 20 minutes, until it was time to pull the pizza from the oven. Chris groaned in protest when she stopped, rolling over to see her ass sway as she walked away. God dammit, she was a smoking slice of yummy.
 

Sarah took the pizza from the oven and cut it, then fixed two plates and brought one over to Chris. As impressed as he was with her drinking abilities, he was more impressed with her skill as a hostess. She ate two pieces, trading jokes and laughter and a few memories until the plate was empty, then she set it in the kitchen and returned to the couch.
 

“I believe we had an agreement that if you got a back rub, so would I,” she said, lowering herself onto the floor and pulling her tight white tank over her head.
 

Chris smiled, then set his plate on the floor and lowered himself beside her. He grabbed her black lacy strap and unsnapped it. Goosebumps rippled her skin as he started rubbing his large hands across it.
 

He imagined her nipples hardening on the other side of his touch. Chris was soft with his hands, as though he might break her if he rubbed too hard. She moaned with pleasure when he added pressure. He took the hint and hardened his rub, moving his hands to her hips and pushing the pressure point on the top of her hipbones, causing her back to arch involuntarily.
 

As Sarah’s back made a rainbow, her nipples slipped from the prison of her bra. She moaned louder as she dragged them across the rough carpet beneath her body. Chris continued massaging her pressure points and watching her body twisting with pleasure.
 

Chris’s was pipe hard, the evening playing out like they’d talked about so many times. He imagined picking her up from the floor as she locked her legs around him while he slammed her against any one of her many walls.
 

Chris rubbed her harder, and Sarah turned beneath the pressure. The cool air hit her bare tits and hardened her nipples. His eyes widened as she turned, but he quickly recovered from his shock and started massaging the front of her body as though nothing had changed.
 

Matching smiles lit their faces as Chris leaned in to steal a kiss and she rose to meet him. They crushed their faces together and stayed fixed for a long minute, each enjoying the feel of another on their skin.
 

His hands slipped under her body, then pulled her from the floor. No words and no objections, Sarah simply allowed him to have his way as he carried her to the bedroom, leaning in to kiss her again.
 

The dark of the unfamiliar room nearly bested him. Chris stumbled over a toy on the floor, then again at the edge of her bed. He stopped himself from falling and laid Sarah gently in the bed, then stripped the sweats from her body.
 

She wore nothing underneath. With her silky legs naked, Chris pulled his own pants to the floor, kicked them in the corner, then touched her stomach in the dark.
 

The feel of her soft skin under his rough hand was almost more than he could take.
 

They melted together in another long kiss before his hands found their mark between her thighs. His fingers met her wet folds and turned his insides to jelly. She wanted him, craved him, and her pussy was proving it. He played with the slippery, soft of her skin, lightly digging inside the rim of her lips, running his fingers up and down her slit as her body shivered at his touch. Chris continued coating his fingers in her juices, as his other hand moved to grab a handful of tits.

She reached for his head as his hand closed around her left tit, then pulled his face to her nipples. He started to lick them, first one and then the other, until he grabbed them both and squeezed them together so he could fit them both into the hunger of his mouth.
 

Her body was hot and practically vibrating, begging him to do more and get there faster. And though Chris wanted to fuck her sideways six ways to Sunday, he had waited six months and wanted to do it right.
 

He continued to circle her nipples, his tongue sending sharp shrieks of pleasure from her wide-open mouth. He pinched her nipple, then moved his mouth lower, past her stomach to just above her pelvic bone as he pushed his palm flat against her pussy.

Her lower back arched and she came on his hands, sending a mess of fluids onto the sheets beneath them. Her fingers suddenly circled around his cock, and Chris gasped. Her grip tightened as she quickly jacked her hand up and down his ample length.
 

Chris was a minute or so from shooting his load, probably like a goddamn rocket to the moon. But he hadn’t waited six fucking months to shoot his spooge on her tummy. He pulled from her grip, repositioned his body, then shoved his rock hard cock inside her. Even sopping wet, he found her fuckhole far tighter than he expected.
 

He shoved himself deeper inside, plowing her with long and rapid strokes. Her hands dug into his ass and her fingers curled into his flesh, pulling him into her harder.
 

Chris’s frenzy gave way to a bottomless craving. He wanted more, needed more, would die without release. He had to fuck her hard enough to last another year and a half, if he had to be gone that long again. He had to soak up enough of her juice, fill her with enough of his thick hot syrup, and keep her screaming like an army of cats, to pour concrete in the permanence of his memory.
 

He continued slipping in and out of her soaking wet hole. Sarah was chewing her lip to keep herself from screaming, taking the volume of their sloshing to a near racket in the otherwise quiet room.