Let's Ride A Tire Down The River Euphrates

“Wanna know what I was thinkin’ ‘bout today?” Joel asked after joining your walk. Uninvited. Again.

“Not really,” you answered .

“Ouch,” he laughed. “Alright, I won't tell ya then.”

“Okay,” you shrugged.

“But I’ll tell ya I got hard as fuck thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

“Doesn’t seem to take much,” you replied.

“That's all you, baby,” he said at a lower, hornier pitch. “You’re somethin’ else.”

Your cheeks warmed, and as you passed the next few houses, the only sound was your sneakers and Joel’s leather flip flops on the asphalt.

As the two of you neared Joel’s house, you couldn’t help but glance at him. Your gaze lingered on his face. At first, it was just to keep your eyes from falling to the inevitable bulge in his gray pj pants. But then, your eyes got caught in the silver bits of his scruff, and when the corner of his mouth twitched into that lethal, little smirk of his, a bolt of desire zapped you right between the thighs.

Right where you wanted him.

Right where he wanted to be.

In one swift move, he stepped ahead, then turned around to face you, blocking your path.

You didn’t try to step around him. You stopped.

His eyes sparkled as he admired your face. He lifted your chin, and his thumb gently brushed your bottom lip.

Your tummy fluttered, and blood rushed to your core.

He let go of your face, and slowly stepped away, inching toward his house without taking his eyes off yours. He nodded toward his basement door as he slid his hands into his pockets.

“C’mon, let's have a drink or somethin’. Lady's choice.”

“I kinda wanna go to sleep,” you replied, fighting the urge to fold instantly.

He offered in a low, sing-song tease, “I can make ya sleep better.”

You smiled, and he murmured, “Ain't that right.”

“I should get home,” you mumbled.

He bent his knees in exaggerated disappointment, then recovered. “At least lemme walk ya there.”

-

The sizzle of the heat between you felt loud as you approached your house in silence. He was going to walk you all the way to the door, and neither of you could stand in that doorframe without thinking about what had happened there.

As you both slowed down in your side yard, he lightly stroked your inner elbow, then trailed his fingers down to your wrist. It was dangerously close to holding hands. Instead, his hand found your ass, and he pivoted to face you.

“Mm,” he grunted and pulled you into a hug with a slow grid of his hips. “Sure ya don’t wanna know what I was thinkin’ bout earlier?”

A quiet sigh slipped from your lips. His breath was heavy above your ear. Your arms wrapped loosely around his broad trunk, and your fingers spread across his massive back muscles as he hugged you with all his filth and charm.

“You know you want this,” he breathed.

No lies detected.

“Good night, Joel.” You insisted, and it might have been convincing if you weren’t melting into his arms at the same time.

“That don’t sound like a ‘no’ to me,” he murmured with a forward push of his hips.

You didn’t reply. Your nostrils flared with a deep breath. That special mix of weed, deodorant, and man… it intoxicated you.

His package had hardened from vague arousal into that perfect, inviting shape that he could just spear you on, if he wanted.

He could just shove himself right in. Your pussy twitched for it.

He pulled his head back to search your eyes and was satisfied to see your pupils wide and your lips parted. His face closed in on yours, and his hand cupped the back of your head. His lips brushed against your mouth, and he stole a bit of your breath. Your lips reached for his, but he wouldn’t seal the kiss. He brushed the tip of his tongue against your lower lip ever so briefly, followed by his teeth. Then he stopped with the side of his mouth against yours.

“Night, pumpkin,” he whispered, and his breath filled your lungs with filthy memories that tingled all over. The hand on your ass relaxed into an affectionate palm. His hips pulled away, and he looked at you deadpan.

“I’m gonna keep walkin’,” he said, then took a deep breath as he adjusted the crotch of his pj pants. “I’ll be around,” he added with a wink.

Really?

He took no for an answer?

Your heart sank a little, and you brushed it off as how badly you needed to get off. He had you all wound up, but you’d finish the job yourself.

—

After getting ready for bed, in a big tshirt with nothing else, you took your vibrator under the covers.

No smut, no audio, no gifs of your go-to actors in sleazy roles.

Nothing could do it for you but Joel after all that heat.

What was he thinking about earlier?

You knew what you were thinking about.

Your body was re-experiencing little flickers of that time he broke in while you were doing yoga. How he put his hand over your mouth. How dominant he was. How forceful, but careful. He indulged in you like a sin and wouldn’t let you deny yourself.

You felt it in your chest. God, it was hot.

HE was hot.

God damn it.

You were thinking about his big cock, about it shoving into you from the back, about him pushing you down on the floor.

With A Good One one building in your depths, you turned the vibe up to max. Your thighs trembled as that memory ripped through your body.

You should’ve been coming on his cock.

—

After you drifted to sleep, your covers were slowly pulled down, just a little at first. Your nipples hardened through your thin t-shirt.

Then, the covers slid down a little more, then further, and the air hit the slick between your thighs. A chill settled over your exposed body, then your heart jumped as you woke up.

Someone was in your bed.

The thought of someone being in your bed took a few seconds process, and by then, he had pinned you with his weight and his hand clamped over your mouth. His cock throbbed against you like it owned your body, like you were it’s personal sheath to fuck and fill.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he whispered, glancing at the toy on your night stand. Then his gaze returned to your face.

Just as you made eye contact, he took his hand off your mouth so he could put it between your legs. “Bet ya were thinkin’ ‘bout that time over there… that little yoga workout I….ugh,” he groaned softly as his skilled fingers found the mess you’d made of yourself.

He slid his digits up and down your slit just twice before shoving two of them into you, just to see the look on your face and hear your breath change.

He cooed, “Oh, you're gonna sleep so good, baby” as his fingers fucked you better than any other man’s cock. His hand moved in powerful thrusts, not too fast. “Ain’t gonna make ya beg for it,” he breathed, massive arm flexing.

His smooth digits made an obscene wet smack with each thrust of his hand. Then he stopped with his fingers fully inside you and palmed your mound, holding your cunt with a possessive grab.

“Don’t even gotta ask,” he whispered with a squeeze, then pulled his soaked fingers out. “I’m just gonna give it to ya….real good.”

He grunted as he got his cock out and into position.

Hot and smooth, his arousal hit your thigh, making your insides throb with greed. “Here we go, baby. Nice n hard, just how ya like it.”

His tip teased your clit, and you teased him back, “How do you know how I-“

“Oh fuck yeah, baby, put up a fight,” he encouraged under his breath, with his eyes coming to life.

You tried to get up on your elbows, and he let you struggle for a few seconds, with his tip nudging between your folds.

“Gonna make me make you? Fuck yeah”

Then his forearm pinned you down, just as his stiff cock pushed into you, spreading your insides with ease.

“God damn, you can take a dick,” he chuckled.

With his cock seated fully inside your warmth, he paused to read your face, then urgently pulled your T-shirt up over your tits, and his mouth fell open as his hips began to move.

He became more aggressive, bottoming out with each punch of his hips, like he'd finally broken into somewhere he needed to be.

Through two slams of his hips, he panted, “You’re so fuckin’ hot, pumpkin.”

“Oh, God,” you closed your eyes and caught yourself tensing as you got close. You took a deep breath and relaxed with a vocal sigh. Your pussy fluttered.

“Attagirl,” he growled, keeping the rhythm steady, snapping his hips a little harder.

You let out a whimper, so close to the edge, not feeling quite safe enough to tumble over it.

“Look at me,” he demanded, and your breath hitched.

You opened your eyes.

“I got you,” he said, eyes darting between yours as he buried himself in you. “Let go, baby. Let go.” He nodded.

You nodded back.

“Yeah,” he breathed. His face darkened with desire. He looked down and palmed a breast as he watched his length slam into you. “Love the way you take this cock.

He lowered himself, and the damp gray tee stretched across his chest grazed your nipples. He brought his face to yours.

Breathing each other’s heavy breaths, you were so close.

You spasmed, then he grabbed your jaw, and his lips captured yours. His tongue plunged into your mouth as he held your jaw like you might pull away. He thrust deeper, stayed deep, and rocked his hips like he couldn’t get deep enough inside. And that did it for you, the tension burst. He let your mouth break away to moan, and he watched you unravel before capturing your lips again, softer, for just a moment.

He stayed deep, rocking his hips, only pulling back every few seconds. He shuddered, and you found yourself craving the feeling of his seed throbbing into you, until the moment it started. Coming to your senses, you squirmed with a half-hearted effort to get him to pull out. “Joel,” you complained, and his hand moved to your hip, firmly holding you in place to shoot his load as deep as he could get.

After the first warm burst, it was a lost cause, you reasoned. You relaxed, and your hips rocked into his as he finished.

The post-nut clarity was unforgiving this time. There was a creep in your bed. In your bed. Your sheets were going to smell like him. And these encounters were becoming regular. You tapped his hip, signaling him to pull out. He grumbled and you said you had to pee.

When you returned, he was still in your bed.

“You should go,” you told him.

“God damn,,” he chuckled. “Still catchin’ my breath here. Give an old man a break.”

“Sorry,” you muttered. “Ten minutes, max.”

-

You fell asleep faster than that.

He left, eventually, but not in ten minutes. Watching you sleep felt too good. And no, he didn’t pick your lock. He didn’t have to.

-

-

-

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