#bemykinkmas

You knew the sun would be baking today—the news alerted you of the rising tempers—yet it still didn’t prepare you to feel punched in the face by the suffocating humidity even when getting dressed, the sweat begun to pool around your forehead although you put on the smallest, thinnest clothing you owned.

Opening your backdoor, the bright sun instantly blinded you; the smell of booze and barbecue smoke sneaked up your nose as you walked out your white screen door to the backyard, the hinges snapping against the wall.

Thankfully you were just on time, walking through the soft grass, the freshly mowed clippings fluffed around your toes in excess, the strands sticking to your freshly lotioned skin causing your ankles to itch as you stride through the yard.

You can feel the sound of music beginning to shake in your eardrums—the country music booming out from the multicolored speakers.

As you approach the cul-de-sac, you quickly realize how crowded the block party has become.

Your neighbors have been hyping up this party for weeks now, an all-American, trashy way of celebrating Christmas, and if there was one thing people enjoyed most, it was drinking—always throwing unnecessary parties as an excuse to get shitfaced with little to no regrets, today being no different.

You were unable to complain as you imagined swimming in some rich neighbors pool, eating all of the free food you could muster and washing it down with expensive beer. Truthfully—that sounded like a damn good Saturday evening, and who were you to turn down some free ribs?

You could finally make out the lyrics to the end of the song that's played on your walk over. Getting distracted by all the people crowding the street, you almost trip over the spread out extension cords connected to the array of machines.

You didn’t expect it to be this crowded, the winter holiday was a time for families and cozy nights inside in front of the tv, but to your surprise—that didn’t stop everyone from showing up in abundance.

The strangers standing around the block weren’t dressed in the usual ugly Christmas sweaters, instead they shedded their layers for swimsuits and red sunglasses—you could only imagine how uncomfortably warm the large fuzzy Santa hats felt in this heat.

As you ventured further down the road, you stepped around the wooden corn hole setups and the booze spilt puddles, trying to find a good place to sit down and people watch, waiting to see someone you know. It was abundantly clear you misunderstood the popularity of the random celebration—the people going all out.

You watched in awe at the plastic fold up tables piled full with food, the lawn chairs and water inflatables filled the paved driveways, and the crowd? It was far too massive for the small space, hundreds of people spread out around the houses, their voices loud and slurred as they ran around rampant.

You quickly grew overwhelmed at the crowd, not recognizing any familiar faces, you finally found a safe spot out of the sun and underneath a tree. Leaning against the bark, you crossed your arms in an attempt to soothe yourself.

“Hey! Started to think you weren't gon’ show up.” A voice speaks, ripping you from your panicked thoughts.

Looking up in the direction of the noise, you see Tommy smiling brightly at you, holding a beer with his shirt unbuttoned. His cheeks looking flushed red from the sun, his freckles painting his nose bridge.

You go to reply, smiling big in his direction, but the grass crumbles behind him, a brown boot coming into your line of vision.

You quickly make eye contact with Joel, the man you always tried your best to make a good impression on, yet it always fell flat—him never bothering to start a conversation with you, no matter how hard you tried.

“Hey! Yeah-I um, I just got here.” You say loudly, yelling over the music. “It’s like, really crazy, I didn’t expect this many people to show up.”

You don’t mean to talk so much, yet the words effortlessly fall from your lips, quickly becoming overwhelmed with the party goers—and the quiet older Miller staring you down.

“You alright?” Tommy questions, raising his eyebrow in concern at your panic.

“Just…overwhelmed, lotta people here.” Humming quietly, you bow your head into the grass, staring at the small pale insects deep in the dirt. Joel instantly makes you start to second guess your actions just with his eyes—all without saying a word.

“We were just ‘bout to leave. Gonna head over to the gas station ‘n pick up some beers, you're welcome to join us.”

Tommy’s inquisition makes your ears perk up, more than ready to abandon whatever plans you had at the party tonight. “Okay, sounds good actually, thanks.”

Tommy looks over at his brother, yet Joel’s face remains stone cold. “Joel, you alive over there?

He doesn’t look at Tommy, instead he chooses to keep his eyes on you, holding eye contact as he lets out a grumble.

“You still comin’?” Tommy pushes, and you watch as Joel finally looks away from you, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, swallowing his spit.

“Yep,” he speaks, and you can barely hear him, his voice hoarse and raspy, his hand coming up to push his hat down over his eyes.

Joel stood there similarly to you, his awkward intimidating presence a much starker difference than his lively brother, Joel not bothering to talk to you.

It wasn’t that you were trying to irritate him, and you truly believed you’ve never actually done nothing wrong to him—but each time he’d stare at you, you were met with the same look in his eyes of pure indifference.

The same look he’s doing right now as you turned your head to look at him, his broad body standing firmly in place. His eyes met yours as he cleared his throat, cautiously taking a single step forward.

Joel knows you—well, he kinda knows you. He knows of your parents, far too old to pay attention to whatever their promiscuous daughter got up to.

He remembered the first time he met you, he was helping your dad replace his brake pads one early summer morning, his sweat dripping down his face into the collar of his shirt thanks to the Texas heat.

Bent over, he heard your flip flops clomping against the cement when you stepped into the garage, your voice sickeningly sweet as you asked your father for some cash to go shopping.

Joel peered up at the noise, his ears perking up your sugary feminine voice, and when he saw you? He knew you were it—a cute little thing, far too young for him, yet that didn’t stop his eyes catching on the flesh of your thighs hanging out your denim shorts.

He watched you stand next to your father, your eyes glazed with a hint of manipulation as you silently begged for the cash.

As he breathed in, letting the air fill his lungs full of breath he didn’t realize he'd been holding, he instantly got a whiff of your strong smelling perfume—the fruity substance just as sweet as your voice, he quickly grew dizzy in the large garage. As his sweaty hands stuck to the metal of the car, he wondered to himself if it was you or the humidity that had this effect on him.

Your father didn’t bat an eye at your presence, instead he smiled brightly, showing you his teeth, lovingly pulling you into his side. He balled his hand into a fist, carelessly messing your hair up with his closed palm.

Joel attempted to listen to what he mumbled in your ear, yet it was quiet enough to not pick up his words, and he couldn’t help his eyes fall back onto your face.

He watched as you giggled, kissing your father on the cheek, you thanked him loudly for the money, waltzing back into the house, but right before you closed the door—you smiled at him, the apples of your cheeks shining as your eyes crinkled, and Joel knew he was in trouble.

Less than a week later, on an evening where Joel came home late from work, he pulled into his driveway, the brim of his hat not helping in his favor as the setting sun burned orange hues in his eyes. As he approached the garage, something caught his eye—there you stood, twirling your hair between your fingertips, giggling at some nonsense Tommy was spewing.

Joel felt puzzled, his brother—and you? Hitting it off? He simply couldn’t believe it, Tommy was cocky and raunchy, and a girl like you wouldn’t be caught dead being friendly with a guy like him.

He felt a sour feeling tucked tightly in his abdomen, jealousy creeping itself up deep inside of him, and he quickly began to hate the feeling.

He was green with envy as he shut the truck off, the roaring engine coming to a silence, he stepped out his seat, rounding the truck to grab his paperwork out of his tool chest.

Joel could instantly tell his presence cut your conversation short, and when he walked up the pavement—his instinct was right, watching as Tommy gripped your arm, nodding his head at whatever you were whispering.

Joel didn’t look over as he brushed shoulders with Tommy, the action hard enough he stumbled, but Joel paid no mind, slamming the front door behind him.

Tommy causally brought you up in conversation that night, doting on how funny you were, the two of you having a lot in common. Joel couldn’t hide the snarl that appeared on his face as Tommy babbled on about his new connection with the cute girl across the street.

As if God was playing a cruel joke on him, Joel always saw you outside after that, typically with little to no clothes on, parading around your yard doing god knows what.

Sometimes he’d catch you outside next to his own backyard, swimming or tanning—you always greeted him with that same big smile, and Joel couldn’t stop himself from staring at you.

He felt dirty—and maybe he was, always turning around, hiding himself behind the white fence, swiftly adjusting himself in his suddenly too tight jeans.

He began to wonder why you never started a conversation with him and why it seemed like everyone got a chance to get to know you except for Joel, and that began to piss him off.

From that moment on, he constantly caught himself looking out his window, hoping to see you in the grass, ready to finally talk to him, but for Joel? The world never worked out correctly, and when he finally saw you out the window, it was a much different sight than he expected.

The clock rapidly blinked in the pitch black bedroom, the green flashing lights shined brightly at Joel, reading just a couple minutes past midnight.

Cursing to himself—he was exhausted, the long days and even later nights were starting to eat at him mentally, finding himself unable to fall asleep easily nowadays, his work schedule not helping.

Throwing the covers off his legs, he decided to get out of bed, maybe walk around the house and get a glass of water, striving to reset his mind from the unnerving task of sleeping.

Running a hand over his eyes, he looked over to his cracked window, the cool air filling the bedroom in a comfortable manner. Walking up to the window, he leaned himself on its steep edge, peering outside into the night.

As his eyes adjusted to the warm street lighting, he instantly caught something in his tired gaze, there stood you—completely bare, inches away from your own open bedroom window.

Maybe it was too much over the counter sleep medicine, or maybe he shouldn’t have had a beer after dinner that evening—surley, his eyes were deceiving him.

But there you were, your bare spine glistening in the soft light of your bedroom, the warm hues from what he presumed to be your lamp, hugged the curve of your plump ass. Your silhouette somehow appeared to glow through the closed window—even from hundreds of feet away.

Holding a white towel in your hands, you shimmied it side by side, delicately ridding yourself of the droplets of water that trickled down your body from your late night shower.

Joel’s heart fell into his stomach, his blood pressure instantly turning his ears pink, he cautiously hid himself behind the navy curtains.

Rapidly blinking his sleep deprived eyes, he attempted to rid himself of your image but it was no use—like each time he sees you, your essence burns a perfect cutout tucked away deep inside his memories.

He felt like a teenage boy once again, peeping on his attractive much older neighbor—yet this time it felt increasingly dirtier, you were young—too young to be gawked at like a piece of meat, but Joel couldn’t stop himself, feeling the same growth in his pants he's felt all week long, and with each time you being the cause.

Bringing a hand down to palm himself, his nostrils exhaled the underlying tension he was holding in, feeling his cock jerk in the combines of his sweats.

Watching you was an adrenaline rush he never knew he needed, his eyes trailing your bare frame as you bent over, fumbling in your wooden dresser.

Joel’s breath stuttered as he gripped himself through the cotton, his dick rock hard at the sight of you, and he couldn’t help himself from pulling the elastic waistband down—his cock wildly springing up to his stomach, his typical pink tip reddened and angry.

Stroking himself, Joel watched as you pulled your panties over your ass, hiding the delicious view of your ass. Joel bit his lip, thinking of how soft and plush your thighs were, watching how they jiggled as you turned around.

Joel collected a loogie of spit, letting it fall onto his cock with a small ‘tut’, he rubbed it on himself, the wet squelching filling his bedroom. He pounded his free hand against the wall in a fist, the cool smooth paint against his calloused hand, but all he could think about was how you’d feel on his cock.

Your unaware movements caused Joel’s knees to buckle, your swollen breasts now in his view, your nipples looking right back at him. He turned his view to your face in an attempt to not cum so quickly, and he was unable to tell your exact emotion spread across your face, yet your features were much softer alone in the relaxing moonlight.

Raising your arms, you quickly scrambled into a cut-off white tank top, the hem tickling right under your breasts. The covering was incredibly thin—so thin Joel could see the outline of your pebbled nipples.

He began to feel disappointed, the show ended as quickly as it started, but Joel was so enamored by you—and he could feel his balls tightening, growing increasingly close to his release.

His hand was rapid against his cock, pumping it as fast as he could, the motion burned deep in the muscles of his inner thighs but then—he saw it, your eyes looking over in the direction of his house.

You looking in his direction caused his hips to buck in his hand, you none the wiser; had no idea someone was watching you—touching themselves at your naked body.

The concept was so juvenile and dirty, it caused Joel to cum hard and fast, his cum spurting down his hand, making a mess of his sweatpants.

After an outfit change, Joel finally slept well that night, dreaming about you, and when he finally could get his hands on you.

You think he’s going to finally say something to you—finally address you like you mean something, but instead, he pivots his movements—his boots kicking up a small mountain of dirt as he turned around, heading over to the parked truck.

You could tell Tommy’s teasing was beginning to effect Joel, his jaw ticking each time Tommy opened his mouth, the bones tightening in his face so strongly, the tenseness spreading to his neck, highlighting his veins.

“We takin’ my truck?” Joel questions, the first time he’s really spoken up in front of you today.

“Nope,” Tommy responds quickly, his lips popping the ‘p’ sound. “Gotta take mine, was gonna fill up my tank, ‘s almost about on empty."

Joel shivered at the inclination, Tommy’s truck couldn’t fit the three of you, hell—it could barely fit him and Tommy. The red two-seater truck was old and cluttered, the middle console so tall it could barely squeeze a second body in, let alone three.

“Ain’t enough seats for three.” Joel grumbles, furrowing his eyebrows.

You look at Tommy, his lips spread into a smug smile, and back at Joel—his face ghostly white at the idea of having to take you with them.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” You question, butting in their brotherly conversation with a curious glint in your eyes.

Tommy pats your hip, wiggling his eyebrows. “Hey that’s alright, me n you can share a seat.”

Joel blinks hard at Tommy, watching how he raises his eyebrow at you, his lip curled into a cocky smirk. There’s no way in hell Joel is going to let that happen.

“No chance I’m driving your truck, last time I did the tire fell off the axle.” Joel blurts out, his words charged in dominance.

Tommy sighs at Joel, staring at him with the knowing brotherly look in his eyes you can’t quite decipher.

“Then how about yall share the passenger seat then, just a couple minutes away, shouldn’t be too big of a deal right?”

Joel gets into the truck first, his boots flicking up the dirt stuck to the running board, his knuckle gripping the handrail with a groan.

He adjusts his legs against the floorboards, graciously giving you enough room as he spreads them wide, your own personal seat for the next uncomfortable sweaty minutes.

Shakily, you mimic his movements, grabbing onto the hand rail, you yank yourself up into the truck, clumsily landing in between his open thighs.

The position wasn’t terrible, you just felt awkward—sitting on a man’s lap who’s barely ever uttered a word to you made you feel funny, you could feel the clammy sticky skin of your lower back against his forearms, the uncomfortable situation already beginning to swirl deep inside your belly.

Bump.

Bump.

Bump.

Tommy should have told you he was taking the backroads, the terrain uneven and filled with potholes.

It was growing impossible to hold still on top of Joel’s lap, each time the truck plowed into a pothole—you couldn’t control your movements, your ass rubbing directly in between Joel’s legs, the friction driving straight into his cock.

You tried to force your weight into the balls of your feet in an attempt to relieve the tension on Joel—but it was impossible, each time you’d go over a hump in the ground, you’d end up right where you started, directly on his clothed cock.

You could tell it was affecting him by the way his hands flew down onto each side of your hips, gripping the flesh in his palms. His big hands held you so tightly his fingertips were sure to leave bruises in the soft flesh.

The short ride seemed much longer with Joel pressed against you like this. Arching your back—you could feel the outline of his cock against the inside of your thigh, the large imprint poking into your ass.

You tried to distract yourself from the tense situation, focusing on the dirty floor, the build up of sawdust so strong it ticked your nose, but you were unable to stay focused—especially when Joel’s hands swallowed your waist so easily, you caught yourself tracing his veins with your eyes.

“Tommy, outta all the ways you coulda went, why the hell you’d pick this one?” Joel questions, his gravely voice vibrating behind you.

Joel can feel you let out a shaky sigh against him, your back moving against his belly.

If you could only hear what Joel was thinking, or—what his dick is thinking, you’d probably scramble off of him, hell—you’d probably ride back home in the trunk with the metal tool box, far away from his perverted self.

“You saw how busy the street was, ain’t no way I was drivin’ through that fuckin’ crowd.” Tommy bites back, and you can’t help the feeling in your gut of nervousness, maybe you shouldn’t have come along with them, the air in the truck suddenly feeling suffocating.

In an attempt to get some fresh air, your arm reaches over to the passenger side door, pushing your finger down onto the window button, you hear it screech as it rolls down, the warm wind beginning to blow your hair back.

Catching a glimpse out the open window, the hot air flows into the truck as you stare blankly into the open fields, watching the sun begin to dip below the horizon.

But one particular swerve of the car causes your body to jump in the air, and as you land down against Joel’s legs you see him staring at your face through the passenger side mirror.

He looked angrier than the last time you saw his face, his lips pursed into a tight line, the irises of his eyes deepened into a dark black—frustratingly staring directly into his target—you.

Joel wasn’t holding up well, your ass feeling much better against him than he could ever imagined, and oh was he was growing mad— his body furious at how oblivious you seemed to the situation, he was sure that you were purposely rubbing yourself on him in an attempt to rile him up, and Joel was seconds away from snapping.

Joel angled his hips in such a way to feel the space where your thighs met between your cunt, the feeling instantly gratifying—your weight snug against his dripping cock.

The feeling made him quickly grow dizzy, and he could smell your sugary perfume mixing into your sweat—the smell causing his tastebuds to wetten.

He watched how your face seemed scared and uncomfortable, your wide eyed gaze staring back into his through the mirror made him want to take you right there in front of Tommy—that will show him, show him who you’ve belonged to this whole time.

The idea of taking you now, slipping his cock out of his jeans and pushing your panties to the side was a wet dream for another night fisting his cock alone.

Joel was too focused right now, remaining calm with your body on him in the tight angle—the gravel under the tires vibrating your ass onto his dick.

The heat omitting from your barely covered cunt seeped through the denim of his pants, you continuously tried to take your ass of his cock, yet the movement causes your skirt to raise up your thick thighs, placing your thinly veiled pussy right onto his cock, and he could ever so slightly feel the pulsating squeezes from your cunt.

Tommy remains completely oblivious to what’s occurring beside him, humming to the song that plays low on the radio and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

As the truck finally pulled into the gas station, Joel couldn’t help himself from “accidentally” pushing his hips up into yours, and he couldn’t hide his chuckle that slipped from his throat when he heard a small squeak slip past your own lips.

You couldn’t wait for Tommy to unlock the truck, pushing the button yourself—you peeled off Joel and out of the truck quickly standing on your wobbly legs, desperately trying to get yourself out of the uncomfortable situation.

“Gonna go use the restroom,” mumbling, you tucked your arms over your chest, staring back down at the beige gas station pavement.

The lights from the sign buzzed in your ears as you waltzed over to the glass door, pushing your body into it, the bell rang as you walked inside, heading straight to the only bathroom at the back of the store.

Joel watched your hips bounce while you ran away from him, and Joel wasn’t going to let you get the chance to slip away once again. He’s been waiting on this moment for far too long, a chance to finally get you alone.

He takes one look at Tommy, mumbling an excuse about buying the beer, he hops out of the truck—following you inside.

The shifty bathroom smells of stale disinfectant and mold, the old rusted lock barley works as you attempt to wiggle it shut, a sliver of the isles still leaking through the small crack on the side of the door.

Turning the faucet on cold, you push down on the plastic soap containers grey button with your palm, fighting with the thick old soap that refuses to drip down.

Cursing to yourself, you bang the side of it, watching as it tumbles off the wall and down onto the floor with a loud shatter, the contraption busting wide open, pink slimy soap seeping on the vintage tiled flooring.

“Shit!” You curse to yourself, bending down to clean up your growing mess, you don’t hear the door creeking open over the faucet pouring water down the drain.

“The fuck was that?”

His voice startles you, jumping so hard you feel as if your heart stopped, you look over in the direction—instantly knowing who it is.

“What?” You question, wondering if he heard the crash echo through the thin walls, but your response only pushes his temper further.

Joel steps further into the bathroom, pushing himself up against the wall, making sure to actually lock the rusted door into place.

“Shit, don’t you look at me like that, you know exactly what you were doin’.”

Your stomach sinks further at his admission, the adrenaline pumping in your blood. “I-I didn’t mean to, I swear!” You exclaim, your eyes wide and desperate as you defend yourself. “Went to get soap and it fell off the wall.”

“What?” He scoffs, looking at you then the disheveled container. “I…I ain’t talking about that.”

Joel takes a step forward, the floor creaking underneath his boots as he closes you in.

“Fuck, you got no clue what you’re doin’ to me do ya?”

You really don’t mean to irritate him, even though he came into the bathroom you were using, you still feel like at nuisance, his aggressive demeanor making you feel small.

“Is this about the truck? You could have drove, Tommy said-”

“Don’t you bring him up right now,” Joel’s voice ticks, his eyes darkening.

You watch him in the reflection of the mirror slowly steps forward, his frame easily filling up the small bathroom. Squinting, you brace yourself—having nowhere to hide, the feeling of him brushing up against you makes the hairs on your arms prickle.

The lighting is hazy in the bathroom, the hissing green hues distorting his face, and like a hunter hunting his prey—Joel has finally caught you right where he wants you.

Gripping your hip, he pushes you back onto his hard cock, and you can instantly feel him against you, the denim tight from his swollen cock—all from your teasing.

“You feel that? Been doing this to me since you met me, prancing ‘round outside like a slut, never payin’ me any fucking attention.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you watch as he bends your spine down lower, forcing you to arch your back. Your shirt lifts up at the position, feeling the cold porcelain on the freed skin of your belly.

Joel absentmindedly grinds his cock into your ass, watching every quirk of your face through the mirror. He feels bad for what he’s about to do, but you’ve been teasing him for far too long and a man can only take so much.

“All on purpose right? Trying to get me riled up? Well shit it’s working.” He spits, his words like venom, and in some sick way—you feel your wet cunt get even slicker, rolling your hips back into his, meeting his movements.

“Answer me.” Joel orders, his tongue clicking.

He slides his free hand up your spine, and you can feel his calloused fingers twitch ever so slightly through the material of your top.

His hand travels up towards your head, his fingertips grazing the hairs nestled at the nape of your neck. His hand coasts around to your face, his palm resting snugly against your chin, he forces you to stare back at him in the cracked mirror.

“Yes I-yes, ‘s all on purpose. ‘m sorry,” you manage to choke out, giving into his sick game, his cock feeling too good against your covered pussy.

“You ain’t sorry, actin’ all sweet, ‘s an act ain’t it?” Joel whispers into your ear, bending his body weight onto you.

His belly crushes your frame, unable to breathe as your chest is pressed so deep into the sink, you can smell the fruity soap swirling deep downwards the drain, yet you remain focused on him, your eyes meeting his.

“Yes, been wanting you Joel, just too scared to talk to you.”

“Yeah? Things ‘bout to be real scary, shoulda been good, spoken up in the first place.” Joel scoffs, finally pulling himself off your body.

The hand that remains on your side comes down the hem of your skirt, he has you believing he’s going to pull it off, but he doesn’t bother—instead pushing the flimsy fabric up past your hips, he uncovers your cunt, barely confined inside of your cotton panties.

“All it took was one word,” Joel mumbles, more so to himself as he throws his head down against his chest, fumbling with his belt buckle.

“Woulda took ya out, nice dinner.”

You can hear the metal of his zipper pulling against the grain of teeth, the denim brushing in his hands as he yanks them down to his knees.

“Took ya back to mine and fucked ya real nice ‘n slow.” Joel hisses, and you can tell it’s from his cock hitting the cold air from behind you, even though he’s not focused on your face, your me focused on his, watching him as if smoke will erupt from his ears in anger.

“It’s a shame, taking such a pretty thing in such a nasty fucking bathroom.”

He finally looks back at you, his head shaking in disappointment, he takes a hand down to your soaked puffy cunt, pulling your panties to the side in such aggression, the fabric burns, scratching on your inner thighs.

“But you want that don’t you? A dirty fuck for a dirty girl.”

And with that, Joel pushes his cock into your entrance, stuffing you full of his thick red tip, the head already filling you up as you mewl, the feeling ripping your thighs open.

Your jaw turns slack at the stretch, choking on your breath; the feeling of his cock is incomparable to anything you’ve ever felt before. You were far from a virgin, but for someone this big and strong, your cunt couldn’t take it, squeezing down hard on his cock in an attempt to still his movements.

“J-Joel, you’re hurtin’ me.” You cry, begging for him to give you a chance to take him, yet he smirks at you in the mirror, his lip curling just barely enough you almost miss it.

He’s never heard a painful plea sound so pretty, and he hopes you can forgive him, but when it comes from your pouting distraught lips—he almost busts right then, before he’s even got the chance to fully fuck you yet.

“Good, need ya ta learn a fuckin’ lesson.”

Joel was telling you the truth, he wishes things were different—he would have loved to be a gentleman, do all the sweet things he’s telling you, yet Joel knows himself—he knows what he needs and more so what you can handle.

Pulling himself out of your tight pussy, he watches as your slick coats his dick. He shutters as he slams back in, your warmth sucking him back in; he grabs your hip to stabilize his movements, his thrusts picking up speed.

“Knew you’d be too damn tight, just needed me to loosen ya up huh?” Joel tuts from behind you, his cock ramming so hard into your pussy, you can feel the tip of his dick prodding at your cervix, the tight muscle aching against the protruding presence.

God, Joel feels obsessed with your cunt—the way you pull him inside, it’s everything and more he could have ever imagined. Your velvety walls smooth over the skin of his dick, so soft and wet, makes his legs shake with each thrust.

Your pussys quickly becomes a sopping mess around his dick, feeling him mold himself into the perfect shape in your cunt; he fucks you deep—each thrust knocking the wind out of you.

“J-Joel, ‘s too much!” You gurgle, gripping on to the sink so tight it begins to shake off the wall, you can see the porcelain's dirt-stained caulk looking back at you.

“Shit you like that don’t ya?” Cursing, Joel grinds his cock into you, his pelvis flush fo your ass.

Your hands react faster than your brain can realize, throwing your arms back, your right arm instantly finds Joel’s neck, pulling him closer.

Joel’s quick to respond—spreading his large hand over the expanse of exposed skin on your belly, he rushes his palm up the flesh, his hand rubbing your shirt off your chest.

The fabric gives at your breasts, watching in the mirror as Joel manhandles flimsy fabric off the fat of your chest, exposing your soft breasts—you watch him carelessly touching you in the mirror as if he owns you.

“Looks even better up close,” Joel breathes into your neck, bunching the fabric of your top so far up your body it begins to rub angrily at your neck.

The grinding sensation he’s giving you is too dull for the intensity you’re craving. You push your ass onto him—pushing his hips backward in an attempt to use his cock for your own pleasure.

Joel pulls back slightly, watching the way you take his cock all by yourself, the noise of your ass clapping echoing off the walls and deep into his eardrums causes him to shudder.

“Fucking yourself using my cock, lookin’ so damn pretty.” Joel coos, approving your movements.

But Joel has waited for this moment for far too long, and he would be crass to allow you to use him like this, he much rather use you—just like he planned

He grips you tightly around him, pushing his belly deep into your spine, his arm comes around your neck; his bicep sitting snug around your throat.

You let out a gargled moan at the new angle, his cock tilting itself just right it begins to rock fast against your g-spot.

“Tell me how good I feel, hell—can see it in your face, just how bad you want this dick.” Joel pushes, not wanting you to be quiet.

He needs to hear every single squeak out of your mouth, the need for your pretty little voice to scream his name would be a stroke of his ego he could only imagine in his dreams and he’s so close to getting it—knowing exactly what you need from him.

He brings the hand on your hip down in between your legs, pushing his pointer finger and middle finger on your clit, he begins to rabidly rub the bead, the feeling making your eyes roll into the back of your head.

His skilled fingers are too much for your body to handle, the feeling only intensified by the bicep around your throat, you can’t help but feel breathless, your moans becoming raspy as he holds your limp, fucked out body up.

He can feel your cunt fluttering around his cock, your legs clenching around his hand tells him you're close and Joel isn’t far behind, his balls skin tight as they slap loudly onto your skin.

“How ‘bout I cum inside ya? Make you prance around town with my fucking kid in yer belly?”

His words make your belly quiver, imagining Joel out of all people in town to be the one to claim your cunt as his makes you feel a way you’ve never felt before—his seed knocking you up in an aged gas station bathroom is disgusting—yet so satisfying you can’t help but moan out in agreement.

“Can feel ya clenching on me doll, shit-know you want it, want my cum inside of ya like a slut.” Joel babbles, himself coming closer to his release.

Joel cums before you, his girthy cock spurting thick ropes of his seed deep into your walls, you can feel the cum seeping deep past your cervix.

“Cmon, gotta feel ya cum for me baby.”

His words do it for you, pushing your knees together, your body begins to shake, your bones prickling with stars as your muscles burn. Your orgasm snaps through you like a rubberband, Joel having no choice but to help you stand up straight, your legs feeling like jelly.

As you cum, Joel’s hand comes down on your clit, slapping the puffy bead into overstimulation, you scream out loud, your knuckles turning pale on the edge of the sink.

Screaming, you thrash around his grasp, using both of your hands to release yourself against his angry palm, he finally lets off your pleading cunt, your clit throbbing in agony.

“Gotta take it out, ‘s gonna sting.”

Pulling out, his cum instantly falls from your stretched out cunt, the warm clear liquid seeping down your legs, Joel is quick to rip a paper towel, wetting it in the bathroom sink.

Swiping it up your cunt, you hiss in discomfort—although it’s a nice gesture after he abused your cunt, the scratchy surface of the towel burns the inside of your thighs, each wipe of his hand hurting more than the next.

“I’ll see ya outside,” Joel mutters under his breath, “gotta buy beer, ‘s what I came in here for.”

You watch as he zips up his jeans, the dark spot of precum dampening against his denim catches in the light as he walks out the bathroom, leaving you in your messy clothes, ass and tits out with his cum still seeping out of your pussy.

Confusion washes over you, and if you thought you didn’t understand him before—you sure as hell don’t get him now.

𐙚༘⋆˖°kinkmas taglist @harriedandharassed @chloeee20 @millercontracting @thegirlulike @uncassettodiricordi @mcthsman @millersweetheart @vanishintoyoubby @vickie5446 @pleurspetal @lunarmoonbeam1 @valyrianjoel @naiadglow @hollyseb @brooklynadoresdior @bbyanarchist @david-10ninch-blog @joelmillersgirl123 @joseyeeeee @ilovetoomanymen @cherrycokeispunk @ptolemaea444 @eviispunk @alalalaqua @sophx58 @sugarsunshine4 @peakybby @littlemissescherry @jvlcisx @mossunderthenightsky @mysterialee @nastysupertoga @pedrosaddict @rosecherry @meteoritelester @aizawasluvver @bratty-spicee @elyionaa @dani111 @furiousprincesskingdom @pedrofan @isimpforfictionalmen @ssop-hiee @realultracunt @tearsweetenedtea @sundawn1990 @ricatotsiee @sprigsofhazel @vvayamaya @iluvdilfsmorethanu

It quickly bloomed into a full blown affair, one you now could logically envision for your future. The first time was a random encounter, one you could have easily dismissed as a mistake, but the second time? It was so much deeper than you’ve grown to realize, the older Miller became deeply entangled in your soul, and you didn’t want it to stop.

It was a difficult web of lies to keep straight, rapidly blinking the thoughts of Joel away, imagining it was him instead as your boyfriend lingered in your life, yet all you could think about was running back into the large arms of his father.

The worst part of it all? It was perfectly imperfect.

Joel was yours, he even said it—he wanted your relationship with his son to fail, he needed to make you permanently his.

It’s like you were playing with toys, each car wrapped around your palms, trading in the newer, high tech model for a classic red body; although it had a few flaws, the ignition still worked good as new.

Well it felt new. Newer than the boots laced up on your shoes, the puffy winter coat you dragged along to class as the weather began to chill, it was newer than the long-term relationship you’ve built up with your boyfriend—if you could even call him that.

Your relationship with his son was cracking away piece by piece, every encounter with his father just made it worse—more strained. The two of you barely talked anymore, the growing distance showed you Joel was more secure, stable; more than his lousy son could ever be, and that’s when something finally shifted inside of you, realizing your worth.

You got over the guilt you once had rather quickly, accepting the two relationships for what they are, and what Joel’s son could possibly mean to him now after all of this, yet it still terrified you.

Something inside of you was holding back from pulling the plug, cheating on your boyfriend with his father would be a lot for outsiders to even attempt to understand, and the gossip that would ensue would surely twist you into a villain.

It wasn’t just breaking up your long term relationship, it was breaking a father-son bond, one that was nurtured for years, just the two of them—Joel raised him all alone, built him into the man he was today.

It was expected for everyone to hate you for destroying your long term relationship that was many years deep, but you never thought about how your boyfriend was feeling, or what he was doing.

You definitely didn’t expect your distant boyfriend to call you on a friday afternoon, sighing so loud it blew against your ear, telling you he can’t do this anymore—that he found someone else.

It was too vague, he can’t do this anymore? He found someone else? Well if it was up to you and all the times you’ve kept the score on the tumultuous downfall of your relationship, it was you who should have ended it—not him, many months ago.

Months ago when you stepped out on him, sparking the passionate relationship with his father, when you finally felt respected—felt loved by an actual man for the first time.

You took the breakup with grace, slowly ridding him from your life, folding up his clothes to donate, even taking his pictures off your wall in hopes this would finally be the time to make Joel yours, all without the guilt.

You were cheating but so was he, and if he had anything to say about it, it was him who ended it—not you.

The freedom excites you deep down inside, the fiery, undeniable feeling was one you couldn’t hide anymore. Joel understood you, although he barely knew you, your meetings were short lived but the feelings were ones of longing, ones of undeniable trust.

You were his.

His light at the end of the tunnel, the one thing keeping him going, the person he was looking forward to seeing each holiday.

You cling to him like the Texas heat, the rays burning through his t-shirt in the summertime, the warmth suffocating to people not acclimated to the swallowing heat.

Joel has been pacing himself for this moment. The meticulous Christmas lights strung around his house, the tree—although straggly with uneven limbs, was decorated just for you, Joel needed to make sure your time spent at his home was perfect.

Maybe he was overstepping, but he couldn’t help himself buying you a little something. The small box laying in his bedroom, just underneath his sock drawer. It’s wrapped tightly; neatly, Joel making sure that the lines were perfectly aligned, with a deep red bow daintily hanging on the edge of the paper, where the two creases met.

It wasn’t like he was going completely out of his way to make the purchase, yet when he saw the gold threads, the heart pendant so small, it reminded him of you, and how it would look wrapped around your neck.

It was personal. Intentional.

He prepared all day long for your eventual arrival, even pulled out the old Christmas ornaments he had tucked away in the attic, his fingers still aching from hooking the orbs on the stabbing plastic branches as he sat in the living room, waiting.

When he heard it, his son's car rolling up the driveway, he just couldn’t wait any longer. Running toward the door with adrenaline coursing through his veins, he opened it wide, ready to greet you—but what he saw caused his stomach to sink.

You aren’t there.

You’re not…Anywhere.

Instead of your bright eyes and soft demeanor, there stood a girl who was the complete opposite of you, her voice grating through the glass door loud enough to make Joel’s ears turn, her eyes laser focused on whatever argument was taking place outside.

Joel felt faint, the color draining from his face; all he could do was stand there in silence, his fingers twitching at the door knob.

No, no.

This can’t be happening.

His son couldn’t be serious about this, maybe he’s stuck in some terrible nightmare, but as he rapidly blinks, the new girl doesn’t fade, her face doesn’t shift into yours.

He knows he’s in trouble, but not in as much agony his son is about to be in, who’s walking up the driveway, none the wiser of the storm inside of his father he’s created, his big smile only further igniting the flame inside of Joel as he continues to stare through the reflection.

His eyes bounce back to the girl still yelling at his son, her face making his chest further twist in pain.

There’s a cocky glint in her eyes telepathically teasing him, like she’s won some competition with you, her outfit classless, tasteless—nothing like you.

They walked into the house without a greeting, barging straight through the entrance as if Joel was invisible, stepping straight into the kitchen to raid his groceries, food that he paid for.

Joel stood there in disbelief, watching his son drink milk straight from the cartoon, slamming it down against the counter, letting the full bottle leak from the opening.

The look on his face was one of pure apathy, paying no mind to the new stranger in his fathers house, not bothering to introduce her to Joel.

Joel began to rethink the timeline—there was no way a new girl could appear so soon, the two of you were just here last month.

He begins to think the worst, wondering what his son could have possibly done to you. He didn’t raise his son to cheat, or to bring the other woman to his house no—he believed he raised one with courage, one who would never hurt you.

His eyes stare holes into the back of his son's head, and as that girl rakes her manicured fingernails into his scalp, Joel finally speaks up, clearing his throat.

“Get out.”

“What?” He laughs, wondering if his dad is joking with him, yet the look plastered on Joel’s face says otherwise.

“I said. Get out. Both of you.”

His son stares back at Joel with wide eyes, his lips slightly gaping at the shocking sound of Joel’s angry voice.

“It’s Christmas? W-we’re supposed to be here all week!” He exclaims, trying to defuse the situation.

Joel ticks his head at the girl he still doesn't know, her wide eyes staring back at him making him grow frustrated. “That ain’t my problem, find somewhere else to stay.”

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

“I didn’t raise you to be like this.” Joel snaps back, speaking his words now directly to the frightened girl, her expression mirroring his sons.

Joel doesn’t wait for another word, stepping to the front door, he starts throwing the luggage out onto the porch, the heavy bags slamming against the concrete.

“Now, dammit!” He screams, pointing to the bags, his face red with anger.

That’s all it takes for the two of them to rush out the door, clumsily picking up the now trashed luggage, hustling it to the car.

Christmas came and went, your boyfriend did too.

You wonder what Joel is thinking about. Is he waiting on you like he promised? Is he spending time with your new replacement? You hope your ex boyfriend isn’t so dense as to bring her there, trying to replace you; the once shy, lost girl in the Miller residence.

You pray your ex-boyfriend hasn’t fed him lies, made up some terrible falsehoods about you and the ending of your relationship. You’re wishing Joel is just as lost as you are, laying in bed staring out the window, wondering what in the hell went wrong.

It can’t be like this, not after everything you’ve gone through, the years of lies and torment—you deserve to be happy.

Running out of your house, you don’t bother to glance at yourself in the mirror, slipping on your shoes and some old hand me down jacket you haven’t worn in years, you squeak past the door, the clock reading just past midnight.

Your hands shake as you turn the key to the ignition, the engine rumbling loudly in your ears, you squint your eyes shut, hopeful that the street name you remember is the right one, you rip out of the driveway, driving straight to Joel.

It’s late when you show up, instantly recognizing the red paneling on the house, the array of bricks staring back at you.

You don’t see any cars parked on the angled driveway, assuming your ex boyfriend is far gone and Joel’s truck must be parked in the garage. Thankfully the porch light is flicked on, the caged bulb beaming back at your rear view mirror—Joel must be home.

Parking across the street, you attempt to swallow the protrusion of fear that begins to swell in your throat. You wanted this—you needed this, to see him again, to fix all of this.

Knocking silent yet firm, you wait for an answer.

You must look out of place standing there, your oversized nightgown blowing in the dead of night, your broken frame standing here like a ghost.

It feels like you're haunting the Miller’s, breaking the family into shattered pieces, but you can’t help the feeling in your gut each time you think about Joel, and the ‘what if’s’.

You can hear someone scuffling in the house, large feet stomping loudly against the floorboards, the door echoing the noises through the wall.

Staring down at the silver doorknob, you watch it turn, the keyhole twisting sideways makes your throat go dry, hopeful the one person you beg to see is on the other side.

When Joel opens the door and sees you standing there, he almost passes out.

Your face is drained, the kind of look someone has when they’ve been thinking, you looked terrible—just like he did.

He didn’t know what to say, at least not anything that could be talked about with you standing outside in the night.

When his eyes met yours, he tilted his head in the direction of the living room, muttering quietly enough you could barely hear him.

“Come in.”

The tree was dimly lit, the white lights slowly shifting in the corner of your eye. There were presents under the tree still, although days after Christmas, they remained unopened and tucked away—you wonder why.

You sit down on the couch, the same couch you made the first move on, the living room—it was quickly getting under your skin, wondering where your ex boyfriend was now, knowing he was supposed to stay here for at least a week.

Joel watches you get lost in thought, your fuzzy recollection of the ending of the relationship still remains in your mind, this all just felt weird, made you feel like a different version of yourself then the last time you were here.

Your jacket suddenly feels too hot, too heavy on your shoulders. You slide it off your body in a fit of annoyance, ridding yourself of the one thing that was helping you hide yourself from Joel, as if it’s your armor protecting you.

“Do,” you pause, breaking the still silence, trying to find the right wording. “Did you see him? Did he talk to you?” You question shyly, staring at the green pines of the fake tree.

Joel sighs, sitting down next to you, putting his face into his hands. “He tried, kicked them out before he had the chance to explain himself.”

“Them?” You know what Joel means, you just need to hear him say it.

“I don’t know what the kid was thinkin’. Bringing some new girl into my house, I didn’t raise him to be like this.”

“I’m-I’m sorry.”

You’re not sure exactly what you're sorry for, you feel like you’ve messed up more than you can handle right now.

Joel looks at you, really looks at you.

You’re a shell of yourself, he can see the regret on your face, but he doesn’t want to overwhelm you, instead he props his head up with his elbow, angling himself slightly closer to where you’re sitting.

“You okay?” He asks bluntly, his words light and effortlessly effective, making your eyes swell up with tears.

You glance up at him for a moment, but you don’t trust your voice, not with Joel looking at you like this.

Joel can see the short rise and fall of your chest, your breathing picking up quickly, your glassy eyes looking down to the floor so sad, so broken.

He hates to see you like this, he doesn’t understand how his son could do this to you.

“Come here, ‘s all gonna be okay.” He coos, voice so soft in the dead of night, his arms opening up into a hug.

The tears begin to pour now, your body easily molding into his chest, smearing your face around his shirt.

“I didn't want you thinking I wasn’t gonna come and see you.” You sob, hoping he’s not going to yell at you.

Oh. You're not upset about the breakup, you're worried about him.

He didn’t expect this, he assumed you were bent up over his childish son, cheating on you so openly, breaking your heart.

He swallows. “I know darlin’, it’s not your fault. None of this is.”

It’s a shocking feeling inside of you to not hear him angrily scold you, the constant fighting towards the end of your relationship always prepared you for the worst of screaming matches. Yet when Joel speaks, it’s with words of understanding, he’s trying to make things better—not worse.

You lift up your head to face him, kissing the soft hairy side of his rounded check, your body trying to crawl onto his sprawled out lap, but Joel's hand comes up to your chest, stopping you.

“We-we don’t need to do this all the time darlin’.” He declared, honesty in his words.

Joel wanted you, that was a blatant fact, but he didn’t want you to think he was using you, especially when you're pouting like this, your mind in a vulnerable state.

He wanted you to have some sense of normalcy with him, one that didn’t always revolve around his cock inside of you, but your eyes had other ideas, staring at him like a piece of meat.

“I know, I’ve just missed you, ‘s been too long without you.” You plead your case, smoothing your tongue over your lips.

Your wet orbs have turned lustful, the color in your eyes now replaced with your blown out pupils, the blacks of them covering the expanse of your irises.

He’s checking you out now, your nightgown bundled up against your thighs, the long material filling up the couch cushions.

“Turn around for me,” he says lightly, but his words are urgent, a thick sound rumbling in his throat.

You listen quickly, like one wrong move he will stop giving you what you want. Turning on your knees, you face the wall falling flatly on your butt. But thankfully, Joel’s hands come up to your armpits, effortlessly scooping you into his lap.

His growing cock is so warm against your bottom you can feel every ridge of the shape, the thin material of his sweatpants pushing him up between your dress.

He widens his legs, his hands falling from your arms to your waist, guiding you to spread against him, your dress inching up your thighs from the stretch, the silk material cold to the touch.

“I like this,” he hums, fingers toying with the fabric of your dress. “Blue looks nice on you.”

Joel’s fingers brush past your bare knee, traveling upward to your raised nightgown.

You can feel your cunt begin to pulse, the heated pounding of your clit begins to uncomfortably beat through you, matching your heartbeat rising in your chest.

He can feel his resolve fading, you were right—it has been too long, his hands move faster than his mind as they trail around the smooth skin of your legs, tracing small shapes up your plush thighs, his thumbs inching closer to your heat.

Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling, throwing your head back against his shoulder, feeling his own heavy breathing against your collarbone.

“You know how pretty you look like this?” He questions, nudging your jawline with his nose.

If anyone else was asking, it would be more of a rhetorical question, but the way Joel is peppering kisses along your jawline, you know he wants to hear the answer—the truth.

“N-no.” You scramble, doubt seeping through your bones.

You’re not sure if you can believe him.

The nightgown is old and flimsy, one you should have thrown away ages ago, the stitching beginning to fail around the edges, the seems hanging loose on your chest.

But to Joel you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, sat on his lap in the moonlight shuttering through the blinds, he knows how lucky he is, how he should cherish you—better than his son could ever have done.

“Then let me show you.” He reassures, pushing his hips up on your own.

Before you can protest, Joel’s hands glide up to your panty line, hooking underneath the stitching, beginning to pry it off of your mound.

You meet him halfway, raising your hips to get the material off your butt, you shimmy recklessly around on his lap, the fabric finally beginning to roll down your legs.

You sigh as your bare cunt hits the cool air, the inside of your thighs so wet it causes your lips to stick together, the feeling growing increasingly uncontrollable.

“She always this wet for me?” He asks, your cunt squishing around nothing—he isn’t even touching you yet, but your pussy wants him so bad.

Your face is just as hot as your cunt, feeling his fingers begin to trickle up your thigh—you grow desperate, widening your hips on his lap forces his fingers to drift up to the spot you want him the most.

“Ye-yes, always.” You affirm, grinding your teeth at the impatience inside your core, your crying hole tightening is the only sensation you feel while waiting for Joel.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs into your ear, his nose pressing into your cheek. “Need to feel ya relax, gonna make you feel all better.”

He swipes two fingers up your slit, collecting the slick against your lips before he brings them up to your clit, rubbing soft circles against the bundle of nerves.

It was a pattern, a well oiled machine. His body knowing exactly how to calm you down, to turn your brain off for a while, to let yourself feel.

“Never liked lyin’ to the kid, but” he speaks, absentmindedly rubbing your clit. “But what I know now, ‘m glad I did.

His words make you wither on top of him, his cock now so hard it hurts, poking itself against the swell of your ass, the thickness brushing your cheek.

“This clit,” he praises, pinching the bud, making you hiss.

He continues speaking though, his fingers drifting down to your sticky hole, “this pussy, ‘m real glad ‘s all mine now.”

He sticks his middle finger inside of you, your wetness instantly sucking him into your gaping cunt, his finger buried to the knuckle.

“Joel! F-ohmygod!” You cry out, unable to form words at the feeling of his large finger so deep inside of you, his bulky knuckle pressing into your g-spot.

“Shhh, you want another one? Want me to fill you up?” He asks, and he doesn’t wait for an answer, bringing his pointer finger around your slit, he sinks it inside, letting it slide around with his middle digit.

He lets the pleasure build up in your hole, feeling the contracting muscles inside of you contort around his fingers, your spongey g-spot rubbing his fingerprints.

“Knew his old man would take care of ya, ‘m glad he hurt ya, just so I can fix it.”

“Y-you’re good at that, f-fixing things.” You know he’s right, always so efficient at making you feel better—you’re obsessed with him, Joel still remains the only person to have touched you like this in months now, your body his for the taking.

Arching your hips, Joel angles his hand against your mound, letting the squishy pad of his hand push up around your spread lips, rubbing itself against your perked clit.

Your release quickly builds up, his skilled fingers working away at your cunt. At the same time, your tears decide to come back, the corners of your eyes gathering the sadness with each blink of your eyelids, the liquid pouring down your heated cheeks.

Your brain shuts off as he adds another finger inside of you, your cunt fully stuffed with Joel, the thick digits now burning instead of your walls.

Your clit takes whatever stimulation his palm can give it, wiggling your hips completely off his thighs to make his fingers go even deeper, pushing harder on your silky clit.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum!” You plead, begging for him to finally take you to your high, the coil in your belly starting to snap.

“I got ya honey, give it to me. Wanna feel ya around my fingers.” He whispers, his words so dirty to your Joel-drunken mind, you instantly come undone, your body tightening as your orgasm washed through you.

Joel knows you’re pretty, but the way you throw your head against him, mouth open, your eyes clamping shut as you cum, you’re the most perfect thing he’s ever seen.

He watches the tears tumble from your eyes, unsure if they are from sadness or pleasure, he runs his free hand up your face, nuzzling himself back into your neck.

Joel can’t help but kiss your tear stained cheek, the salty residue tickling his tastebuds as he licks his lips, tasting your teary ecstasy on his tongue.

Trying to come down from your high, your brain is incredibly fuzzy, the only feeling in your body is the sensitivity of your cunt, Joel’s cum coated fingers resting against your thigh, unsure of when he even pulled them out of you at this point.

You can feel his cock still excruciatingly hard against your ass, the urge to make him feel good suddenly makes you perk up, the need to take control of the situation and his body soaring through you.

You grip the cushion beside his thigh, not so perfectly maneuvering around his body.

“Woah! Slow down honey, I ain’t going no where.” Joel replies breathless, the sight of your crazed hunger for his cock makes his chest swell.

“Mh-hm,” you shake your head, plopping down on his lap, facing him.

Your naked cunt is now flush to his pants, the elastic digging into your thighs as you rub yourself into him, the feeling release a choked moan from his throat.

Joel’s a little too covered for your liking, his t-shirt too loose on his body—you need to see him, need to see the dark hairs against his chest.

“Take this off,” you plead, your hands flying down to his shirt. “Please.”

Joel nods, quickly helping you out, lazily tugging his shirt over his head, letting it fly to the floor.

You can see the dark trail of hair run down his chest to his happy trail, the coarse strands make you clench around nothing, but your cunt is so close to his cock you’re sure he can feel it.

Moaning at the sight, you run your hand down his chest, letting the fuzz tickle the pads of your fingertips, stabilizing yourself to rock against him, your clit smushed against his belly.

You roll your hips again, this time more feverishly as you fuck yourself on his covered cock, his hairy belly pressing between your legs, brushing against your clit just right.

Joel feels left out, your pretty frame hidden by the oversized nightgown, his hands fall back onto the power blue material, rubbing you through the silk.

“Let’s move this pretty little thing out of the way, wanna see my girl.” He whispers, knuckles white.

Gripping the bundled up fabric of your nightgown, he begins to pull it off of your frame, your hair messy from it messing against your head—but you couldn’t care less, riding him rapidly.

Your swollen cunt rocks into his happy trail, your pussy so sensitive you can feel another orgasm quickly approaching, but right now Joel’s release is on your mind.

Pushing yourself slightly back, you can feel his cock hitting your cunt, rubbing him through your movements, your slick leaves a wet trail on his covered shaft, the grey material darkening.

“God baby girl, look at you. Takin’ what you need.” He curses, lifting his hips to allow more of your weight to hit his cock.

The position is so intimate, your bare body on top of him so soft and supple, the string of Christmas lights hung over the tree creates warm shapes down your torso, your hardened nipples in his direct line of sight.

“You never give yourself enough credit Joel,” you gasp out, voice raspy from all the moaning and crying. “Always looking out for me, taking care of me.”

Joel’s cock twitches at your praise, his own body stuttering, his belly expanding full of air rubbing against your mound, the feeling of his hairy middle scratching your puffy clit, it makes your lips form into a shy grin.

“I’d do anything to make ya smile.” He replies breathlessly, his eyes continuing to soak in your beauty.

His hands come down to your hips, grabbing the flesh tightly in his fingertips. He guides your body to glide against him, “jus’ like that. Doin’ so good for me.”

You bite down on your red swollen lips, you’ve been chewing on them all night long, the color has deepened, moans slipping past the lower swollen one.

He watches you ride him, his eyes stuck into a hazy, sex-driven trance—you look so good on top of him, a sight he wants to see for the rest of his life.

“God look at you,” he murmurs to himself, his wet fingers sticking together.

The feeling gives him an idea; bringing a finger to your mouth, he slips it past your lips, sticking it deeply into your mouth.

You instantly accept it, swirling your tongue around the digit, cleaning your release off of him.

You can taste your cunt so clearly on your tastebuds, the sweet salty mixture causing you to moan around his finger, vibrating his hand.

Joel can’t believe the sight, your mouth feeling so soft and wet against his fingers, he can feel his balls tightening, his release so close he can almost taste it.

You’re finally available, finally his—and you know you are, your body somehow always perfectly responding to his own as if you're connected, an otherworldly force driving the two of you together.

“J-Joel, I—I feel it, need—mmm.” You try your best to speak, but you can’t process the words that spill from your covered lips, your hips shakily bouncing on him hard enough that you can hear your slick snap against his own covered slippery cock.

You're so close, your second orgasm of the evening begins to bubble through you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you await the feeling to take over your abused cunt, but suddenly—Joels hands squeeze down hard on your hips, stopping your movements.

Heavily breathing, you listen to the voice outside of the door, a loud knock echoing on the wood that separates the two of you from outside, the sound ringing through the living room, pulling you out of the moment.

Like a fawn, your legs wobble as you pull yourself off of him, his lower half now fully drenched deep with your slick cunt.

Standing up he groans, bringing his hand down in an attempt to soothe his aching dick, the member still protruding in the thin material.

“Cover up, ‘n stand back.” He demands, controlling the tense situation.

Joel bends down to the floor, grabbing his tangled t-shirt off the ground, throwing you the garment.

You easily throw it over your head, letting the fabric pool around your frame. Stalking closely behind him, you watch him peer through the peephole, but he doesn’t speak—doesn’t tell you who it is, cracking the door slightly open instead.

“Hey dad, can we talk?”

There stands your ex boyfriend—Joel’s son.

You can’t see him, but you can hear his grating voice, the same one that broke up with you, his hair poking through Joel’s raised bicep protecting the home.

“Now’s not a good time, ‘s late.” Is all Joel can reply, the growing frustration boiling underneath him.

He’s sure he looks a mess; shirt off his body, his sweatpants completely soaked in your slick—he wonders if his son can smell you, the scent of sex so thick in the air Joel can taste it.

Your ex boyfriend steps forward, going to say something to Joel, but you shift on your feet to get away from him, the movement shoving you directly into his line of vision, making direct eye contact with him.

“Dad! What the fuck?”

Following Joel into the freshly opened door frame, the room was far too silent for your liking, your repetitive footsteps creaking on the broken edges of tiles on the ground made you shiver, your breathing ringing in your eardrums.

It was supposed to be an easy exchange today, a small supply trade with a lone raider who was searching for a radio in good condition, and in turn—he was planning on offering up some uncommon medications that would be beneficial to sell, the painkillers becoming increasingly rare to find these days.

The two of you had effortlessly worked together for years now, the older man knowing a hell of a lot more than you did, always readily available to teach you everything he knew about survival, a surefire way to increase your skills and make yourself even more useful, he was the guidance you've craved all these years.

To outsiders, you and Joel made no sense, and that’s exactly why it worked.

The sickenly sweet, coy persona you quickly developed over the years was one that made the evilest of men tolerate you, always able to bite off a little more than you could chew, coming back to your hideout with far more supplies then you ever needed in the first place.

Your kindness matched up seamlessly with Joel, a far meaner, scarier man. He got down dirty; killing as if it was second nature to him, nevertheless he always savoured your own life, protecting and guarding your back just as strictly as he does his own.

He was extremely rough around the edges, a man who no one could quite understand, the kind of person that always did whatever it took for him to survive, and as he got to know you, that offering extended to you.

It wasn’t always easy, the two of you occasionally butting heads until your fiery personalities learned to work together, getting used to each of your little quirks. The two of you soon worked effectively balanced, like a greased up, well oiled machine; you had your routine perfectly executed in the screwed up, imperfect world you called your own.

Although it always came with a risk—you weren’t blind to that, each time the two of you snuck out to do a trade like this it very well could go wrong, even get you killed. You were lucky enough to run with Joel, as he added an extra layer of stability to your routine, easily making every outing far more valuable than if you did it alone.

Following closely behind Joel, the two of you tread deeper into the large building, keeping watch for strangers and infected alike, staying focused on your objective.

His movements suddenly halt in his tracks, brown boots abruptly stopping as he throws a hand over the front of you, forcing the two of you behind a sideways storage closet thrown off the wall and onto the ground, sneakily crouching behind it.

You parrot his motions, dipping your head under the metal, awaiting his guidance as you try to stop the heavy pounding in your chest.

“Alright, stick to the plan. ‘m staying put right here.” He points with his hand, making sure you're listening. “I’ll be watching and making sure nothing goes wrong.”

He reaches into his bag, retrieving the lone radio receiver from the bottom of the sack. It was rusted, dingy—its brown color almost black from the years of wear and tear on the metal, the material flaking off in his hand from his tight grip on the sides, holding it out in your direction.

You meet him halfway, extending your own hand towards the radio—you meet his eyes, rapidly nodding away any feelings of nervousness, although it begins to softly wash its way through you, your palms growing increasingly clammy.

“Okay,” you whispered, grabbing the small radio out of his fingertips. Before you could walk away, Joel wraps his now empty hand over your wrist, encapsulating it tightly in his grasp.

“Be safe.”

With a nod you were off alone, walking to the other side of the large building, finally making contact with the man for the trade, his large figure standing in the corner with a sly smirk plastered on his shining cheeks.

“You got what I’m looking for?” You question, lowering your voice like a predator, making sure your body stands multiple feet away from him, trying your best to not get too close to the stranger.

“Could ask you the same damn thing.” He retorts, his voice gravelly.

Saying nothing, you can only squint at him.

It’s hard to tell exactly what he looks like from the rusted paneling of the wall that covers his eyes, the room practically falling apart around you, yet you're sure he’s mean, his attitude already far too shifty for your liking, a sour feeling of doubt erupting in your belly.

He leisurely pulls out a crumbled up baggie from his coat pocket, the plastic film containing multiple pale colored pills juggling around in the packaging, the same ghostly colored ones you’ve been looking for.

You give him a sweet smile, just like you rehearsed in a shattered mirror earlier today—hoping to win him over once again, your eyes set on the bountiful transluncent bag.

Joel stares from a safe distance, watching the two of you deep in the exchange, a wicked grin plastered on your face causing your eyes to crinkle at whatever nonsense he was spewing into your ear, his words unforgettably muffled from the tight position Joel was hiding in.

He could see the soft curtains of sunlight peer through the boarded up windows, shining warm hues over your features, your skin flushed, glowing—like you were truly savoring every word the man was saying.

He knows it’s a facade, but he still feels uncomfortable at the sight of you standing giggling with another man, your charm was too good—too rehearsed even Joel could feel his mind beginning to believe your lies himself.

Joel wonders if his palpable staring was far too strong for the situation, although tense—the moment could quickly turn into disaster, Joel felt that he was tenser.

As if you could feel his eyes on your face, you look over to his position, your eyes finding him. For a split second you contain your nervousness, your hands stilling their shaking movements next to your waist, although the man won’t stop talking.

“You got that radio I was told about?” He eagerly whispers, stepping closer to you.

“You first.” You reply quick on your feet, ordering him around. Quickly, your feet step backward, forcing yourself against the wall next to the boarded-up window.

He reaches his hand out, the crumbled up plastic bag crinkling in his grasp, “if you want it, you have to come and get it.”

You brush off the awkwardness of the situation, cautiously taking a half step in his direction reaching your hand out, yet as you do—his sickly pale hand comes up to your cheek, forcing your head closer to him.

“Y’know, girls like you shouldn’t be out doing these things by themselves, you need some help?” He questions, breath rotten. Eyes dark.

Joel was lost in the exchange, his distracted mind easily blurring out the man’s loquacious chattering, far too focused on his hand now touching the soft surface of your cheek.

It was unexpected, his heart falling deep into his stomach, the acid swallowing it whole, bubbling and bursting around the cold muscular organ.

It was the first time in a long time he felt something—and he couldn’t do anything about it, not yet at least.

He had to wait until you grabbed the bag, or if the man’s touch escalated further. He knew you were tougher than you looked, but with the way the man was looking at you, licking his lips as if he’s staring at a piece of meat, Joel was ready to snap.

“Just doing my job, you know how it is sir.” You try your best to de-escalate the situation, although it’s clear he has ulterior motives with you, his lips curling into a smirk.

“Your job huh? Think I know a few ways you can make some extra cash, can even give ya some more supplies to bring back to your base.”

You know exactly what he means with his wording and it makes you sick, quickly rebuttling. “No thank you, appreciate it but I’m not that kind of woman.”

“Come on, I ain’t nothing to be afraid of. Unless you want me to be.” He spits, words like venom.

“Let go of me!” You screech, bringing your hand up to pry his hand away from your face.

Your relentless determination makes him grow angry, his hand sliding down from your cheek to your neck. He aggressively grabs hold of your throat, pressing his fingers down the soft muscles in your neck, holding you tight around his grip.

The room suddenly shrunk around you, the pale, bleached wooden walls felt bleak and cramped as they confined themselves around you and the man. His body inched closer and closer to yours until he forced you up against the wall, your eyes headstrong on his face that was uncovered by the darkness, memorizing every minuscule detail of his evil features.

Joel was watching it all unfold in slow motion, his mind set on keeping you safe—he sneaks up beside the man, his fingers moving forward in a fist to force himself into the situation, aggressively shoulder checking him.

It was off kilter, like a bucket filling full with water so steep it tilted over—You in danger made him feel the same way, and it bothered him—it angered him.

Like a slingshot, erratic laughter bleed into his eardrums, the snapping sound loud enough he could clearly hear it ringing in his ears, the man now laughing at the added person to the tense situation.

“Aha! You did bring company I see.” He laughs towards Joel, his legs stumbling back from the shock to his now sore shoulder.

You tumbled back, running to safety at the same place Joel was seconds ago, holding your neck in pain, the fingerprints so tight it’s as if you could still feel them suffocating you.

You couldn’t hear what Joel was saying, his words so loud they began to echo as you watched on in horror, the man reaching into his pocket for what you assumed to be a gun.

Before you knew it Joel’s fists were on him, making instant contact with his face, knocking him flatly to the ground, his head making a slapping noise against the concrete.

It was half-witted to fumble his anger so easily like this; he was busy, far too focused on surviving and completing his task—it was an important job, one he desperately needed to complete, yet right now all he could think about was desecrating the man’s ugly face, beating him until he was unrecognizable.

It was always better for you to close your eyes and hide when Joel releases this side of him, it was one that worried you, one that frightened you.

Until now, watching on with wide eyes, he beats the man into a bloody pulp, taking out the weeks of built up frustration onto his face—it excited you, to watch him kill for you, it was a dramatic feeling of melancholy in your veins.

When the sound of fist breaking bone stops, you watch Joel pull his gun from his waist, aiming the muzzle at the soft tissue of his broken jaw, clicking the trigger.

The sound of gunfire makes you jump, your eyes clamping shut, you fall to the floor in shock, waiting for him to finally put the man to rest, raid his body, and do whatever else he needs to for his personal justifications of murdering the stranger.

Joel spits as he stands up, taking one last good look at the bloodied corpse of the man who hurt you. He places the slippery bag of bloodied pills into his coat pocket, looking over to your position.

You’re sitting there like a child in timeout, afraid of their father and their future punishment—it makes his pounding heart swell, hating to scare you like this.

He approaches you gently, lowering his voice into a soft vibration, he holds his hand out; waiting for you to grab it. And when you do—the sight of him shocks you.

His face is splattered with blood, the iron-like substance instantly hitting your senses, small flecks of skin tissue dangling from his brown jacket. You can’t help your blatant staring on his bloodied knuckles, the whites of the bones now raw and cut open, deep green bruises starting to form on the skin.

“Hey, hey. ‘s okay, you’re okay.” He shushes, trying his best to calm you down.

His anger unfortunately begins to swell again at the sight of your neck, the skin puffed up and red in the shape of a hand, the man gripping you far harder than Joel originally realized—if he could, he'd kill the man over and over again.

“Oh baby, he hurt ya bad.” He grumbles, voice hoarse from the screaming. “Gotta get back home, get you all cleaned up.”

You nod at him, unable to talk from the shock buzzing through your shaky head, your mind in a blank state of fear and hidden lust.

He looks terrifying, an evil born killer, one who took the life of a man—all to save your own.

The walk back to your makeshift hideout was silent besides the sounds of your boots stomping though the clumps of dried grass, the yellowing strands breaking off under the soles of your feet.

Your heart was still booming from the adrenaline flowing through your veins, the uncomfortable bolts of electricity causing your legs to slightly shake, your actions slight enough that Joel noticed. Like always, he was watching your every move.

He knew how startled you were, the look on your face when he pulled up from the man’s soft and bloodied skull, your eyes wet, sceleras glazed over; it was one he hated to see, and he will never forget that feeling, the emotional weight you have on him pulls him down heavier than he ever realized until now.

Joel mutters something out loud as you turn the corner, your eyes on the small covered door to your hideout, although you can’t seem to process them—your eardrums aren't as sharp as they were just an hour ago, the gunshot still ringing its way through your body.

The aftermath of a killing was always the worst part for you, especially when it comes down to your life and other humans. It’s always been difficult for you to wrap your head around, yet most of the time, humans are far scarier than whatever infected rummaging around the world and sometimes that evil needs to be dealt with.

As he walked closely behind you, you could smell the metallic scent of his body spattered in blood hit your nostrils, the once bright hues that ricocheted off the man quickly turned deep as they soaked into his shirt, a visual sign of his pure devotion to you.

There was something about it, watching the soft and gentle man behind closed doors turn deadly in the blink of an eye; his voice growling, actions animalistic—it made your cunt dampen, to feel so protected and safe in this world was a rare occurrence.

You knew how much you meant to him and as did he, although it was never labeled; it was safe, a level of trust and understanding you’ve never had the chance to experience in this life—at least not until he came along.

Lost in thought, you sat in the corner of the small bedroom, your knees next to your face as you leaned into them, the raised fingerprints on your neck still burning.

Joel can’t help but stare at your vulnerable position, your sad irises filled with passion and something he couldn’t quite understand—he abruptly cleared his throat, calling for your attention.

“Come here honey, gotta check ya out. Make sure you ain’t hurt.” He grumbles, voice stern. His way of letting you know he’s not taking ‘no’ for an answer.

You reluctantly peer up at him, watching his large hands move up and down his jeans, his fingernails still caked with blood, not bothering with cleaning himself up.

“Quit starin’ and come sit down ‘n let me see.” He repeats now patting his legs, ushering you to him.

Standing up on your wobbly legs, you feel like a new born fawn—scared and unnerved, you tether your way to him, clumsily falling into the open space of his lap.

He tilts his head up at you, his eyes narrowing in on the bruised mark on your neck, his lips twisting into a frown.

“You poor thing.” He coos, his hand gently coming up to your cheek.

You look so pretty like this, soft and docile on his lap. He knows he’s being selfish, you're sore, traumatized; it’s better to let you rest, yet when you stare down at him, your dirty cheek molding to his touch, he can’t stop himself from adjusting his hips in the chair, his cock loving how you can trust him so blindly.

He can’t control his thoughts rummaging around through his skull, thinking back to that man, how easily he laid his hands on you.

Joel is aware at how nasty men can get, himself included, especially when his blood stained fingers squeeze down so effortlessly on your cheek, watching the fat mold around his fingerprints, it makes him feel like the man who just hurt you, the idea he’s touching the same skin he did making him nauseous.

“Don’t like how you let him touch ya like that.” He admits out loud, studying your face.

Joel knows he’s being irrational, of course you didn’t let him touch you—he came onto you first, Joel just can’t help his misplaced anger, not when you're laying on him like this.

Your eyes flutter open at that, the words spewing from his mouth shock you, his voice soft. Vulnerable.

Throwing your arms around his neck, you straddle his waist completely, your knees snug on either side of his hips. “I, I didn’t think he’d escalate so quickly.” You stutter out, defending yourself. “Thought I had it covered.”

You remind him of a deer in headlights, your gentle eyes now widened in a look of shock, your bottom lip falling open.

The skin of your delicate neck is now turning a deep shade of maroon, the bruising of being strangled finally settling into your flesh—and he hates it.

Even more so, he hates how you’re looking at him right now, your eyes slowly drifting down to his lips, your mouth licking over your own as if you're craving his attention.

“Oh honey,” he pauses, dragging his hand down to your painful neck, the pads of his fingers feeling the rapid beating of your pulse. “There's a lotta people out here with bad intentions, you know how it is.”

And Joel is one of them.

It sickens him that you are visually marked by someone, someone who isn’t him—someone who hurt you. Joel can feel his blood pressure rising once again, a deep disdain rolling through his mind as if he failed you, even if he protected you, it wasn’t enough to leave you unhurt in the process.

Joel knows the feeling inside of him is one of pure jealousy, the deep hidden urges that seep down into his gut blossom into something he can’t quite control, the need to claim you and show everyone who you belong to takes over him, his eyes deepening in lust.

“But. But you knew I’d step in ‘n take care of him didn’t you?” He questions clearing his throat, attempting to bring your focus to anything but his face, feeling his cock awakening in his jeans.

“Of course, he shouldn’t have done that. You saved me.” The last part comes out barely audible as you hum, placing a kiss to the tip of his nose, the skin chilled from the time spent outside.

He shivers, his hand flying down to your hip, squeezing the flesh. His dominant hand still remains on your neck, the ghosting of his fingertips tickling the flesh, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Didn’t plan on hurtin’ the kid… you know that. But as soon as he squeezed ya, I did what I had to.” He adds, and at the same time, his hand slightly squeezes down on the same purple spot, causing you to wince.

You yelp out like a puppy, your eyes squinting tightly shut, your own fingertips digging into his shoulder, pinching the flesh

He can feel your cunt inch closer to his groin, his jeans suffocating him yet your cunt isn’t pressing down hard enough for him to feel it, a painful drag coming out of his own mouth.

“That hurt baby? Right there?” He groans out loud, the noise filling your ears, feeling his fingers swipe along the wobbly mark.

The whimpers and whines that spew from your mouth makes him feel as if he could cum in his pants just from the sounds alone; you look so good in pain—and maybe that has more to say about him than it should.

“Yes, ‘s real sore Joel.” You practically beg, wanting him to do something about the discomfort. Unfortunately for you, Joel gets a different idea, bringing his lips up to the flesh instead—attaching his lips to the skin.

“Lemme fix it then, make you feel better.” He whispers against the flesh, feeling his voice vibrate down the column of your throat.

His lips trickle along the bruise, slowly pecking the flesh swallowed by the nasty wound. He takes his time with it; leisurely dragging his tongue around the skin, feeling how the lump of your throat expands with each trembling swallow.

“Always gonna keep you safe.” He murmurs between kisses, his lips feather-like as they float down the skin, finding your collar bone.

He presses his lips onto the bone, listening to you sigh into his touch. Joel joins his fingers up to the crest of your shirt, playing with the buttons of your top, lazily popping them one by one until your chest is fully exposed, your sun bleached bra filling his eyesight.

“Hate thinkin’.” He pauses, biting his cheek. “Hate thinkin’ about some sucker marking you like this. Ain’t fair to you, and it ain’t fair to me.” He grumbles, his lips finding the cleavage of your breasts, lapping at the skin.

Each spot his mouth covers tingles underneath the pillows of his lips, like little bursts of electricity—he slowly brings you back to life, your adrenaline now heightened from his torturous lips—not his killing.

“I hope no one sees me like this, thinking you hurt me instead.” You sigh, your hands lazily swirling into his hair, swiping the greedy locks out of his eyebrows.

God he hopes not.

He almost forgot about the marks that paint your neck as he’s so focused with your prodding breasts, the soft skin practically begging to be licked and sucked.

“People. They will. Know.” He shakes his head, his nose pressing deep into the valley of your chest, breathing in your salty scent.

His hands come up behind you, popping the flimsy clasp of your bra open, allowing your breast to fall from the fabric. You gasp at the cold air flowing through the room on your bare chest, your nipples hardening from the exposure.

“And if they don’t,” he continues, pulling away from the flesh. “Then they know damn well not ta’ say anything about it.” He promises, and the words make you whimper, pushing his head back down to your breasts.

Joel growls at the feeling of you forcing his mouth down to your breast, opening his mouth, he sticks his pink tongue out over his lips, wetting the soft surface of skin to soothe it as he bites down, sucking the skin into his mouth.

He can hear you hiss from above his head at the feeling of his mouth vacuuming the skin, his teeth just barely nibbling away at the feel of your breast inside of his mouth.

“Too much!” You wince out in pain, your body already so sensitive from being provoked earlier, but Joel doesn’t seem to care too much, trailing his lips up the skin, repeating the motion.

“No it ain’t.” He musters, repeating his actions to your neglected breast, slowly painting the skin with matching hues to your neck.

He starts to kiss around the skin, his silent way of apologizing for getting so carried away on suckling your décolleté. His cracked lips are inches away from your pebbled nipple and instead of taking it in his mouth, he drifts up towards your collarbone once again, licking the bruised skin.

“Quit teasing me.” You slip out through your teeth, withering around on his lap in pure agony.

Like a brat that was just told no, you can’t help the whine he pulls from the inside of your throat, rapidly rocking your hips in a grinding motion down on his cock. The feeling is unbarable, his thick jeans hiding his heavy member from any chance of stimulation you attempt to give it. You try your best to keep the steady pace of your cunt against his shaft, crying out in agony because it just isn’t enough for your greedy body.

He can sense your pulsating cunt through your jeans, how it presses so warmly against his cock, he knows you’re gushing from the painstaking work of his mouth painting your chest.

Joel’s secretly thankful something has worked in his favor, you finally smell like him again, his masculine musk and tobacco flavored mouth have had their respective ways with you, your body once again claimed by him.

He doesn’t want to give in just yet, he rather just sit here watching you cry, body rutting against him chasing a high that won’t happen. He knows he is lucky to have made it out alive with you today, and even luckier to feel the sensations of you rubbing your soaked pussy onto his dick, suckling your skin until your whole body is red and purple.

“S-slow down there girl,” he gestures like a man trying to calm down a freighted animal, his knuckles gripping your hips. “You wanted me to take care of ya, right? Was kissing ya all better baby.”

His wording comes out far too cocky for his liking, but when he has you so compliant and needy, he truthfully can’t help it, his voice insanity pushing you farther into irritation.

“Not like that,” you bite back, fingers pulling hard at the soft strains of hair on his neck. “I need you Joel, need you to fuck me. Make me feel better, please.”

Your voice sounds heavy, like it’s been soaking in honey for days just from his teasing alone, the sultry noises knocking the wind out of his throat.

“Good lord honey, can’t be saying things like that.” He growls softly into your chest, his lips red and puffy.

The wild ample eyes you’re giving him makes him groan out in pure agony, your blown out pupils completely covering the small colored irises of your eyes. You’re on cloud-nine and his cock still isn’t inside of you yet.

“Can’t say things like what?” You press him further, raking your nails down his neck, leaving small pale scratches in the flesh.

“That you need me.”

“I, I-I do. Looked so good earlier, angry. Scary.” Each raw confession that falls from your lips comes with an expressive roll of your hips, choking on your breathing as it stutters in your chest. “Did such a g-good job taking care of me, but right now? You aren’t ‘n I need you to fuck me.”

Your begging releases something deep inside of him, his legs abruptly stand up straight, body attempting to choke back a groan. He feels sicker than he did earlier, his greedy cock practically ripping itself out of the denim as he carries you to the small twin-sized mattress situated in the corner of the room.

“You liked watchin’ me kill that guy for ya? Shit, bet you’ve been soaked for hours now baby.” He grits out, his neck muscles tensing from the pure drive in his actions, his legs hit the edge of the mattress.

The bed is tattered and broken, and Joel couldn’t find it in him to care about the raggled bedframe, his hands never leaving your bottom as he places you down against the thin sheet, your torso at an awkward angle from the uneven flooring.

His lips finally find yours when your head hits the pillow, strong arms laying you down against the creaking box springs, the metal screeching at the weight of the two of you, his heavy chest pressing into your own.

His thighs force your own to spread wide as they hit the rough mattress, your jeans tight on your joints. At his newly found angle, his covered cock rubs right into your entrance, the seam pushing up into your clit, scratching the pearl.

You're a mess underneath him; hair ratted, lips broken, body bruised. Joel thinks you're the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, a rare oddity in this soul-ridden world.

“You like that honey?” He mutters between your lips, listening to your small mewls that slip from your mouth into his own.

He slips his weight harder into your chest, practically knocking the wind out of your already breathless lungs, his biceps flexing next to your ears as he settles in further, caging your head between them.

“Nuh-uh sweet pea, gotta speak up. Tell me what you’re thinkin’.”

Opening your mouth, the words suddenly fall from your scrambled train of thought and into your throat. All you can think about is his cock grinding encouragingly into your center, the feeling too relieving to focus on anything else.

“Can’t have that can we.” He tsks, abruptly stopping his moments, leaning back on his legs.

Before you can retort any words of forgiveness, Joel shocks you back into silence, feeling his fingers moving down to your jeans, popping the fly open.

He rips the denim off your hips with ease, his fingers pulling your panties down in the process, letting them pool at the edge of the bed.

Your bare, glistening cunt stares back at him, your slit in direct sight of Joel’s eager gaze. The smell hits him all at once, the sweet, skin-like scent causes his throat to dampen, uncomfortably swallowing his spit at the sight.

“You ain’t talkin’ but this cunt is. Look at ‘er just crying out for me.”

Your walls clench around nothing, listening to the way your lips squish together from his words; his teasing has gone on for far too long, and all you want is cock inside of you.

“Need you to fuck me, make me feel better.” Is all you can muster now, throwing your head against the pillows. You lay there lazily, awaiting any chance of stimulation he decides to give you.

You can’t see Joel toying with his own jeans, the zipper getting caught on the fly, wrangling himself from the denim. He finally gets his jeans out of the way to pull his thick cock out of the waistband of his pants, letting the fabric bust open around his thighs, his heavy dick springing eagerly into the air.

“Don’t be pouting now, told ya earlier. ‘mma make ya feel good.” He utters, positioning himself back to where he once laid on top of you, his belly pressing into your own.

A shocked gasp leaves your mouth when his cock finds your entrance, sliding the bulbous head around your lips with his hand. With a hiss, he collects the abundance of slick that’s gathered around your opening, beginning to push all the way inside of you.

You can feel every ridge of his cock stuff you full, the bump of the swollen tip throbbing, the way his cock curves inside of you—just the way you like it.

Joel’s no better than you are, watching in endearment as your face shifts and twists at the intrusion in your mound, clamping your eyes shut, eyebrows furrowing, the small squeak that spills from the back of your throat at the stretch, it makes his cock jump further into your greedy pussy, burying himself to the hilt.

He wants you all to himself, the jealousy boiling inside of him feels like molten lava, the sticky burning heat pooling down into his cock as he plows inside you, building his pace until he can’t handle it, gripping your waist to keep him steady.

“T-This cunt, so damn tight. Can feel you squeezin’ me, ‘bout to pop out of ya if you ain’t careful.” He grumbles from above, looking down to where the two of you connect.

Your lips are widened around his shaft, the base rapidly plunging in and out of your velvety walls, the slick gliding his cock full speed into you.

“Can-I can’t help it, feels too good,” you scream, body sinking into the mattress.

He watches your eyes tightening into their sockets, your jaw slack at the pleasure he’s pushing through towards your g-spot, the gummy tissue prodding at his mushroom tip.

He can see his cock filling up your stomach at the angle of the wobbling mattress, each thrust causing your belly to expand around him, your body split open and malleable for his member to fit inside.

He places a wide palm down to your belly, feeling the way his tip rubs back and forth against his fingers perched on the soft flesh. The way his dick plunges through you and fills you up makes his hips thrust faster, pressing down harder on the soft skin, making you feel fuller than you've ever been.

“Perfect body. Perfect belly, maybe I should fill ‘er up, get ya round and swollen. Make sure everyone knows just who you belong too.”

He can feel your walls tighten at his words, Imagining what you’d look like full of him, your belly swollen and your hips widening to take his seed, the idea making your cunt swirl in desire.

“You want that? Shit, can tell you do, gonna fuck ya good ‘n deep, make sure it sticks.” His words make you feel far woozier than his cock, feeling the way you wither underneath him only builds his pleasure, his balls tightening to his body.

“Yes, yes! I need it!” You cry out, your body thrashing beneath him, your open thighs twitching at the pleasure.

You're so close he can almost smell it, the sweat beads on your forehead gather on the indentations of your temples, your cheeks flushed at your impending orgasm building through your nervous system.

“Yeah, you want it? Want my cum inside of you?” He questions, his palm dragging down from your full stomach to your throbbing clit, rubbing tight circles against the bud.

“W-want you to f-fill me Joel, make me yours forever!”

Forever. He knows you're too cock drunk to think rationally, but the words go straight to his dick, feeling his own movements faltering—his thrusts becoming unevenly paced chasing his own release like a mad man.

“Fuck honey, keep sayin’ that and I’ll cum right now.” He curses, yet your words keep falling out of your mouth with ease, as if his thumb on your clit is a button of honesty, your words beginning to slur.

“Want you to knock me up, m-make sure everyone knows who I belong too!” You scream, your orgasm washing through your body.

Your legs attempt to shut around his body, your muscles clenching at the sucker punch feeling of your orgasm rocking though your sensitive walls, yet Joel’s pace doesn’t continue to falter—it only grows stronger, his hips evening out his thrusts.

Joel can feel the wetness from your orgasm begin to slide down his shaft, coating his cock with your pleasure, the squelching ripping though your screams; a contrast of the two noises only further intensifying the feeling in his gut.

“Shit! Gonna put a baby right in here, make sure everyone knows I’m tha’ daddy.”

His voice is primal, like a desperate animal chasing its next meal, his body is pumped with pure need, a sole purpose to fill your body full of his seed.

It’s not like you ever discussed children, hell; you’ve never even talked about your relationship, and what this means for one another, but it’s different with you—and he knows you feel it too, the way your practically forcing his dick inside of you, the idea can’t be that bad can it?

He can see it now, keeping you locked up tight in someplace safe—somewhere far away from the city, raising a couple of brats out in the middle of nowhere, maybe a farm, raising livestock, keeping safe and out of harms way.

It’s twisted, unfair, but he just can’t help himself further burying his cock deep into your mound, the walls of your cunt angling him just against your spongey cervix, the spot his balls so desperately crave to release into.

“Joel. Joel! Look at me, please.” You plead exasperated, back arched off the mattress, your nails raking into his hairy forearms.

He forces his eyes down to your face, your lips swollen, body bruised and palpable, yet your eyes remain on his own, your permanent gaze staring into his soul.

“Let me make you a daddy.”

Your voice pulls him out from his unfavorable train of thought, shattering every last sense of restraint from his cock, his dick begins to spurt deep into your walls, filling you full.

“Shit, shit, shit! All mine, ‘sall mine baby!” He grunts, hips thrusting his seed deep into your core, letting it warm your abdomen.

You're so exhausted from your own orgasm all you can do is lay limp underneath him and take what he gives you, your body a soupy puddle of relaxation. Although, your cunt has a mind of its own—squeezing its walls down tight against him, clamping his throbbing cock inside of you, milking every last drop he can give you.

Joel abruptly pulls his empty cock out of your entrance, desperately wanting to see the damage he’s caused, his large cock always one to stretch your tight hole wide. He can hear you wince at the loss of contact, your cunt now cold and aching, your walls gaping spaciously open.

Your body leaks his seed like a river of sweet nectar, the white ink flowing down between the crease of your asscheeks. The sight makes his stomach sink, the feeling of regret washed through him—he wishes he didn’t pull out just yet, needing to see his release remain in your walls forever, even if he has to force it himself.

Not thinking straight, Joel urges his middle and ring finger towards your entrance, collecting the dribbles of cum around his fingerprints. He brings them up to your opening, sticking them securely inside of the damaged hole.

“Fuck Joel! W-what are you doing?” You question, your body in utter pain and agony from the large protrusions now stuffed back inside your sensitive body.

“Sorry baby, gotta make sure it sticks.” He mutters under his breath, watching in curiosity at the white ring of seed coating the base of his knuckles.

He knows you can’t handle this. You could barely handle his attack on your chest, the bruises just as painful as the hand that was around your neck. His cock ramming deep inside of you had you believing the torture was done, that his large size was the least of your worries, that the pain of stretching your thighs into submission should have been enough—but not for Joel.

His fingers are far too large for you, his knuckles bumping into each other as he inserts them, the dry skin rubbing against your cream-coated walls.

“Joel! ‘s too much, gotta stop. Please.” You beg, legs thrashing—yet your words come out superficial, your tired body forced to take his hand.

A cocky grin spread across his face, he knows it's cruel to take you again right after his cock, the feeling of your slick cunt against his callused skin is far too favorable to resist.

“You want this jus’ as much as I do, gotta give ya what you were begging for yeah?” He responds through his smirk, rapidly flicking his fingers up into your g-spot.

He wasn’t wrong, you were just begging for him to cum inside of you, to give you a baby, and also at the same time—it was selfish of him to force another orgasm out of you, your cunt aching from the heavy snapping of his fingers.

He leers up at you, staring at your withering frame, eyes flushed with tears, chest sticky—you were impossible to resist like this, an angel on earth laying against a dirty mattress.

“If it don’t work this time we can always keep trying, can’t we?” He questions, not really relying on an answer, because truthfully—he could do this every day if he had to for the rest of his life.

It’s as if he has a trance on your body, unable to control your movements, your body clenches down, feeling the same swooshing in your belly from earlier, your body so close to cumming. You buck your hips into his fingers, angling your hips to ride his fingers, chasing your release.

“Yes! Y-Yes!” You cry out, mouth dry, body dehydrated.

The overstimulation quickly evolves into rapid ecstasy, your body twisting on top of the mattress, your legs thrashing around his chest from where he sits below you.

Joel still doesn’t stop because he can’t—not when you're acting like this, your actions only push him further to force your second orgasm out of your body.

“Gonna cum? Can see it in your face, want it so bad.” He coos, his words a glaring opposition to his aggressive approach inside of your walls, his fingers flinging your g-spot around like it belongs to him—and it definitely does.

Your hands find comfort in the thin sheets, wrapping the pale yellowed material around your fists, knuckles tensing around the fabric. You're so close to your high it hurts, and Joel can tell from the grip of your cunt alone, his knuckles getting caught at your entrance.

“Joel, Joel, Joel.” You scream like a chant, your body fully controlled by his fingertips, the trance-like state of your orgasm causing your mind to go blank, the only thing on your mind being Joel.

Your body goes limp at the moment of pure ecstasy that blooms from your erupting cunt, the warm feeling swirling up your belly and down your thighs. Your head shakes absentmindedly around the pillow, trying to ground yourself in the overwhelming feeling.

“That’s it honey, jus’ like that.” He praises, watching your body get lost in the feeling, limbs in full paralysis at the electrocuting pressure.

Pulling his fingers out from your cunt, you don’t catch him wiping the leftover mixture of the two of you onto the sheets your fists still continue to grip, Joel attempting to rid himself from the sticky feeling; although a stranger’s blood still remains on the skin of his forearms, the dried up paste flaking against his arm hair.

He stares down at your body laying flat and still, your skin glistening in the lowlight. It’s always been you, his whole life, his very devotion.

You’re the person he will always fight for, always kill for—keeping you safe from any form of violence or abuse is his purpose, one he strives to protect.

He leans forward, pressing a small kiss to your ankle, listening to you hum softly in appreciation. “You’re mine, y’know that?” he murmurs into your flesh, his lips vibrating through your still buzzing bones.

Of course you know that, he proves it everyday—today included, yet the way he says it makes your woozy body bloom with warmth, giddy at his jealousy.

He watches as you sit up, leaning against your shaky elbows to meet his gaze soaking in the sight of your naked, bruised body.

The deep color of envy still remains stark against his hard features, and green was a good look on him—although you would never tell him that, it’s nice to be needed. To be wanted. To be cared for; loved.

Joel didn’t know what the hell he was doing messing around with someone like you. The two of you were polar opposites; the loud sweet thing with life still shining in your eyes with a future ahead of you—your life had barely begun.

He couldn’t help himself; when a gentle girl like you invites him into your house, carrying a sultry expression and an uneven smirk—it was impossible to say no to you.

That single night alone with you quickly turned into a well polished routine. Joel would plan late nights to sneak over to your place, curating his schedule around yours.

Yet it picked up far too fast for Joel to fully understand what was happening, an easy release of pent up late night frustrations easily turned into his favorite time of day, eager to spend the rest of the night with you in bed.

Each time you looked at him, he felt like his body was on fire. Your relationship quickly turned into something more serious—much deeper than he could have ever imagined. You were his escape from the world, a steady routine of heated intimacy.

You were the one stable thing he believed he could control, and his life began to flourish with the routine; always showing up minutes after you turned the flickering light on, your way of telling him you are home—waiting.

He’d quickly walk over, his fist pounding three little knocks on your door as the light buzzed from behind him.

These secret meetings were rapidly adding up, and Joel couldn’t stop his feelings from snowballing.

The more he got to know you, the more it scared him, his thoughts drifting off into a realistic future—maybe he could be happy again, he could finally start over, put his energy to something good for once—yet that idea terrified him.

It was going well he believed, but his subconscious got the best of him, his doubt of new beginnings creeping up on him.

He had lost everyone, and maybe, just maybe—it was easier to let you down easy before he had to prepare for the worst.

The world wasn’t safe for relationships, not even tucked away in the walls of Jackson, and as Joel got older—he got slower.

He was getting tired.

His body ran slower, gasping for breath as he walked up the stairs. His eyesight was even deplenishing, starting to miss easy shots on patrol he’d never missed before. His looks were changing as well, on occasion; he’d catch a new wrinkle on the corner of his eye, or how his hair was starting to grey, following along with his beard. Life was catching up to him, morality staring back at him in the mirror.

Joel began to realize he wouldn’t be able to keep you safe forever—and that terrified him.

Sneaking around with the older, much quieter Miller was easier said than done; the stolen glances across the room and hands touching under the tables became your favorite parts of the weekend. You were always giddy at the chance to grasp any public affection from him—even if no one saw it but you.

You knew from the beginning you shouldn’t mess with Joel, the town gossip about him was different than anything you’ve ever heard—he was a cold blooded killer, the kind of person you shouldn’t ever be left alone with. But when you were tangled in the sheets with him, he was the softest man you’ve ever known, always holding you tight, taking care of you in a way you’ve never been before, your heart busting at seams.

He was old—maybe too old for you, but that was never a bother for you, his gentle eyes and even softer hands proved you were in a favorable position. His age showed experience, his ability to see through you was something that you could never have expected from a man like him.

If people found out they’d be shocked at how Joel ended up with you out of all the eligible bachelors in Jackson.

But the agreement was simple; the moments you shared were meant to be sacred, the mental and physical release for the two of you was an intimate level of trust you could share together, all without dealing with the stressors of labeling it.

You couldn’t really call it friends with benefits, you weren't even sure if Joel considered you a friend.

He never spoke with his words, his actions always showed you how he felt instead. It was a dance around the topic, the deep understanding of what you had was one you never had to explain out loud, and maybe that’s why it worked so well.

But it worked too well.

Joel wanted you to enjoy the rest of your years with someone younger, a man who could actually keep up with you, who could give you whatever you wanted without complaint.

He didn’t want you to bother with a man like him, and so one night after your usual secret meeting, he looked you in the eye after he got dressed, letting you know this couldn’t happen ever again—that this wasn’t working out for him anymore.

You instantly avoided his gaze, your stomach uncomfortably fluttering at the sudden distaste for you.

There was no point of speaking up—when Joel says something he means it, so instead of chasing him out of the house, or begging for an explanation you simply nodded, listening to him walk out of your bedroom.

Hearing the front door echo shut you were left wondering to yourself—maybe he was right, it wasn’t working out, what you two shared was a lust driven illusion and this was easier this way.

He was ripped from you like a bandaid, his memory sticking to every ounce of your soul—your bed still smelt like him every time you fluffed the covers.

The shift was hard, Joel lingered everywhere around Jackson, for a man who never showed himself out and about, he sure was present—watching you in every empty corner of town.

You knew about his lone wolf mindset, hell—everyone you knew would try their best to drill it into your head. This world wasn’t certain, one simple mistake is all it took for you to never see someone again.

Friendships, family, relationships, and everything in between was a large risk to grow attached to as everyone was temporary, including yourself.

But Jackson was something special, something sacred, the best way for people to finally feel normal again, to continue the lives they once left behind.

Throughout your conflicting feelings, you tried your best to ignore him as usual, acting like nothing ever happened between the two of you—a blip in the universe, a random stranger and an even randomer encounter, what was done was done.

You attempted to carry on as normal but you weren’t holding up well, although you remained stoic about the situation in its entirety, it was hard to let go.

As soon as the words fell from his mouth, Joel regretted it. His careless disregard for you was cowardly, to brush you off like this? Pretending as if you met nothing to him was hurtful and he knew it, but it had to be done.

You were getting too close to him, his thoughts constantly getting clogged with images of you started to affect every aspect of his life—and his heart.

It was a common occurrence for him to run away from his problems instead of facing them, he was never the best with women when he was much younger than his current self anyways.

He didn’t want to risk being vulnerable in the off chance you didn’t feel the same—it would be a feat he wouldn’t be able to handle.

He couldn’t bare the feelings of opening up again, he’s done that too many times in the past for it to blow up in his face, always ending up alone in the end.

He was technically right; it was easier this way, drowning out his feelings in hopes they’d go away, but you lingered, the little things about you sticking out in ways he’d never expect

Your energy was following him around town, your laugh ringing in his ears at the bar, or how he’d catch you bent down in the snow, tying a young girl's shoe, giving a helping hand to a mother juggling her multiple children in the cold weather.

And on days he would finally succeed in avoiding you, that damn porch light would turn on, flickering through his blinds, into the night.

The yellow hum always reminded him of his broken promises to fix it for you, yet each time he’d come over for that sole purpose, he’d end up in your sheets, swearing he’d repair it next time he saw you.

As the evening comes to an end, Joel watches the snowflakes tumble in the sky, the flakes a pale shade of a blue as they fall, the buildup blanketing the streets of Jackson.

Staring out his window at your house, he decided it was time to stop avoiding you, to go over there and attempt to fix things.

Lacing up his boots, he went over his plan in his head, he was going to fix that porch light and well—maybe even talk to you.

Joel knocked on the large door, his knuckles scratching the wooden grain with each tap of his hand, his knocks slowly getting quieter as they continued on. He felt pessimistic about the outcome of him showing up like this, just after dinner you were probably already settling down, getting ready for bed.

It was far easier for him to remain bitter, shove any thoughts of you far down his throat and ignore the nasty taste in his mouth at the ‘what if’s’.

But there he remains standing vulnerable on your porch, the cold air biting his cheeks, his breath turning into white bursts of condensation in the air, all in the hopes you’ll answer.

He's desperate to be proven right, have you slam the door in his face, yelling at him about how terrible of a person he is, yet a part of him wants you to forgive him—even if he has to get down on his cracking knees to beg for said forgiveness.

He stands there waiting until his nose tingles, tapping his foot on the porch as his fingers begin to freeze.

Sighing, Joel realizes you aren’t going to answer, taking the bullet to his heart. Stepping down the steps to start his short walk home, he hears it—a loud laugh echoing through the window, the sound vibrating the walls.

Joel feels like a creep as he stares in the soft drift of your curtains, peering through the window that’s angled toward the kitchen, and when he sees it? He almost chokes on his spit.

There you stood in the kitchen, laughing at a tall dark figure standing feet away from you.

In disbelief, Joel squints his eyes waiting for the figure to move, chalking it up to a casual hangout with a friend from town. But as the person maneuvers around the small kitchen, he gets a glimpse of their face, a young man smiling back at you.

He watches the man open his arms in your direction, pulling you into a tight hug.

He has moppy curly hair, the strands fuzzing over his head like a halo, his body clad in some thick jacket that’s far too big for him. He was holding something up in the nook of his shoulder, a small red colored bag contrasting the dark shade of his coat.

There’s something in the way he’s looking at you, his eyes with the same yearning gaze Joel has for you, the boy's irises sparkling so bright he is sure would appear blinding up close.

He wasn’t allowed to be upset at the kid in your house—you weren’t his anymore—he even said it, made sure you understood exactly what he meant.

Yet Joel turned green with envy, each passing second that boy stood in your house made him grow angrier and angrier.

No man but Joel should ever be allowed in your house, especially if he has anything to say about it.

Joel stomps back up the stairs, his fist instantly colliding with the door, pounding rabidly against the thin wood that separates you from him, the hinges shaking at the roughness of his hand.

You can’t answer fast enough for Joel, and he’s seen far more than he needed too. Letting his emotions get the best of him, he leans into the door with all his might—busting it wide open.

“The hell is he doin’ in here!” He exclaims, his voice loud over the small crackling fire in the living room.

You rapidly turn around at the noise of his voice, throwing your hands over your chest, shocked to see Joel standing firmly in your doorway.

“Excuse me?” You question, voice just as loud as his own, the words echoing in the kitchen, “what are you doing here?”

Joel quickly realizes this wasn’t a logical plan. He just broke into your house, the three of you all standing there in shock, but up close—it’s clear maybe he read the situation wrong.

The kitchen sink was turned on, the underside cabinets wide open as you stood there with a flashlight in your hand—that man was helping you fix your sink.

The boy's eyes widen, a frightened look appearing on his face when he sees Joel up close. Shifting behind you, he makes a run for it, his feet stomping toward the now wide open door, the cool breeze filling the warm home.

With the terrified look plastered over his face, Joel’s sure that the boy has heard about him around town, his eyes about the bulge out of his head by the sudden aggression—but Joel couldn’t care less, hoping to scare him out of your house.

“S-Sorry sir! This isn’t what it looks like!” He exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air in surrender, terrified of the older man staring him down.

You cock your head over to the boy who’s now running out of your house, his hair tossing in the air as he jogs out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Now all that remains is you and the man you haven’t spoken to in three weeks, an awkward silence filling the air.

You stare at Joel with indifference, each time you blink; you feel yourself growing more upset at him, the feelings you once had for him have turned sour, a tinge of irritation now etched into your skin, your eyebrows wrinkling into a frown.

“What is wrong with you? You-you can’t just bust down my door and demand someone to get out of my house.”

His face reflects one of sorrow, his lips pursed so hard that the lines around his mouth tightens. “Came to talk to you, didn’t think you’d be havin’ company this late at night.”

You scoff at his crude jealousy, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not like I need to explain myself, but my drains been acting up and I didn’t want to ask you for help.”

“So ya asked a kid who’s got no clue what he’s doin’?”

You step away from him, avoiding his gaze. “You made it pretty clear you were done with me, was doing you a favor.”

Joel doesn’t let you get far, following your movements, he rounds the kitchen, throwing his arm up to shut the water off.

“When something's wrong, you come tell me, not some kid who don’t know what he’s doin’.”

He’s scolding you like a teenager who just got caught sneaking out, his voice grating in your ears.

“Is that seriously why you're here?” You question, throwing your arms up in the air. “You’re upset I found someone else to fix my sink?”

You both know exactly why he’s here.

“Seeing him, standin’ in your house.” Joel swallows, his voice lowering. “I don’t care what he was here for—it should be me helping ya out, fixing things around here.”

Yeah—he should be fixing this, whatever the hell ‘this’ is.

You point your finger into his chest, poking his jacket. “Yeah you’re right. It should be you. Then you went and ruined things.”

It’s a small step in the right direction, you can tell he knows he’s in the wrong, but when he stares at you with a flat stare—it only upsets you more, the unspoken words you’ve been waiting to hear for weeks refuse to fall out of his mouth.

“Alright, I think we’ve talked enough.” You affirm, flaring your hand in the direction of the door, ushering him to leave.

You start toward the door, ready to kick him out if you have to but Joel is quicker than you, his body shifting so fast he hovers over you.

“No we haven’t,” he corrects, pulling you into him by the wrist.

Joel was a quiet man, one who left the atmosphere to be left unspoken. Your job is to always read between the lines, try your best to wrap your head around whatever he’s holding back day that day—never necessarily hold onto what he’s saying.

“Ran off on ya when I shouldn’t have.” He speaks, an unnerving layer of honesty appearing in his tone.

To hear him speak openly like this was a jolt to the heart; this was the most he’s ever said about you—the first time he’s ever attempted to apologize for something.

He continues, not letting you get a word in. “You know it ain’t right, messed up something real good because I was scared.”

His mask was beginning to fall, the hard layers of stone finally beginning to break off into pieces—he was trying his best, and that’s all you could ask for.

“You don’t think I’m scared?” You mutter breathless, unable to fully comprehend the gravity of the moment.

Your brain was turning faster than you could control it. A new beginning was scary, but if you don’t push further into the unknown, you'll never quite experience anything worthwhile.

It was a shot in the dark to trust him, allowing him to seep deeper into the microscopic cracks of your stone cold heart, but if the shot stuck its landing—it just might be worth it.

“Darlin’ I’m trying. I know it ain’t enough to fix all this, but-“

“But it’s a start.”

A big start in the right direction.

His face is inches away from yours, an unspoken rule between the two of you to never get this close—never under no circumstances should you kiss, but when his gaze falls down to your lips then back up to your eyes, you instantly know what he’s thinking.

Joel presses his lips into yours, his mouth cautious yet gentle, he awaits for you to reciprocate—and when you finally reciprocate, he can feel the tension melting.

You were stepping into something new, the unknown territory was an awkward beginning for the two of you—especially Joel.

Like a child taking their first steps, Joel dove in head first; he had no clue how to do this, but one thing was certain—he wanted to do it with you.

His hand held your cheek gently in place, as if you were a prized piece of fine china, his fingertips gripping you carefully, attempting to not to push in too hard.

With labored breathing he pulls away, placing his forehead against your own. His mouth is covered with you, his lips red from the roughness from the kiss.

It’s hard to take things slow when he’s looking at you like this—his hair swept to the side, adrenaline still coarsening its way through his veins with the way his hands twitch against his sides.

You can’t waste another second away from his mouth, pulling him back onto you. Your lips crash into his like a tilde wave, drowning in the feeling of his mouth. You can already feel yourself becoming addicted to the taste as you stick your tongue out, feeling the bottom of his lower lip.

Groaning, his hands find the small curve of your back, his fingers toying with the waistband of your jeans, but tonight—you have a different idea in store for him.

“Nope,” you mutter against his lips, pulling your body away from him. “Thinking maybe we should take this slow.” You offer, a crass look on your face.

He responds to your inquisition with a confused expression, his brows covering his eyelids.

Taking his hands off your hips, you glide out of his grasp, heading towards the couch.

With every step, you begin to unbutton your jeans, letting the zipper fly open against your fingers, easily snaking your legs out of the denim.

Your fingers work just as quickly on your top; pulling your head through the garment, Joel watches it tumble to the floor, your clothing leading him to where you stand across the room.

“You can look but you can’t touch.” You mutter, courage coursing through your legs as you plop onto the sofa, the brown leather consuming your body.

You can’t be serious.

Joel wants to kick his past self, taking it slow now? When he hasn’t been inside of you for weeks?

Your lips were just on his, your soft body snug against his hips. Maybe it was fair—that he deserves this as an unfavorable punishment, but he can’t help but sulk in the kitchen.

“Alright, if that’s how you’re seein’ things.” He agrees, but his face says otherwise.

“You’re the one who said this,” you point down to your body, “can’t keep happening.”

You sat smugly against the couch, your legs lazily wide open against the cushions, a growing wet spot looking back at him.

“You got no clue what yer’ doing to me do you?” He groans, bringing his hand down to palm at his jeans.

You tilt your head, pretending to be confused. “Hmm, not too sure. How about you come show me?”

Your words twist in his cock driven mind, laying there like a succubus with your hands behind your back, pinching off your bra clasp, letting the cups fall to your waist.

Your freed breasts look plush in the moonlight, his mouth watering at how softly your hands run up and down the flesh, your fingertips dimpling the sensitive skin.

You cup your breast in your hand, pinching your nipple, a gasp falling out of your open mouth.

Stepping closer, he can see your nipples pebbling at the ghost like touch, your dominant hand drifting down to your inner thigh, long fingertips tickling the skin.

“Like what you see?”

He knows what you're doing, it’s a test—seeing how far you can push him tonight yet that doesn’t stop him from falling right into your trap.

“Oh do I honey.”

There’s a slight change in his voice, one where if you didn’t know him so well you wouldn’t be able to pick up on it as he walks closer to you, his knee brushing the aged La-z-boy recliner, its feet creaking at the weight.

“Take ‘em off, lemme see her.” He directs, but little does he know—tonight he’s not running the show.

“You first cowboy.” You gleam, abruptly stopping your movements on your thigh.

Joel shudders as he sits down, his hips wide into a manspread, he allows his cock to bulge in his jeans, the tent large enough to see from your position across from him.

His fingers are tentative on his jeans, shakily popping the button open, the zipper moves on its own—his cock so hard it pushes the teeth down in a fluid motion, the metal noise filling the silent night.

You stare him down as he releases his angry cock, the shaft slinging upwards to his belly, the large vein on the underside of him twisting around the shaft.

Tilting his head up against the seat, his eyes point down to his cock, “you see that? You’re killin’ him.”

You push your flimsy panties to the side, releasing your slick coated lips. “Then make him feel better.”

Joel grunts at that—your words making his cock jump in his hand.

Leaning forward, he spits on the tip, letting the fat glob glide down his dick, the bubbly substance cool against the angry head.

You watch him roll his fist around his shaft, pulling himself up to the head to quickly collect the liquid before he slides down again, his knuckles hitting his pubic bone.

You react by sliding your own fingers up your lips, coating yourself with the slick that’s been growing against you since he barged in the front door.

The pad of your finger finds the perfect spot on your clit, the digit pressing down on the bud causing you to whimper.

His cock was crying out to you, the lonely member wanting nothing more than to be stuffed inside of you, but his lousy fist will do, lazily snaking his hand up and down the shaft.

“Feel good?” He questions, barely able to touch himself when he’s watching you like this, legs spread wide, your pussy squelching from the little stimulation you give it.

He needs to be inside of your perfect tight cunt—your open pussy practically winking at him—the hole squeezing around nothing.

“Have you been thinking about this?” You question between moans, adding another finger to your sensitive clit, toying with the bud.

“Every damn day.” He grunts, a bead of precum pooling around his tip.

“What have you thought about?” You question, pressing him to talk you through it.

What hasn’t Joel thought about.

He responds right away, looking at your pussy, “how you taste, how you feel-shit.” He hisses, his eyes meeting yours, “been thinkin’ about you too.”

“I’d hope so.” You mewl, dragging the same two fingers down to your hole, sticking them inside of you.

A moan falls from your throat, the noise vibrating your chest at the fullness from your fingers stretching your cunt wide open.

You just look too pretty like this—your tits pressed together by your arm that remains tight to your cunt, the lips puffy as they spread wide for him, your aching hole crying out to him, the stretch of your fingers tight against the muscle.

He’s already wasted far too much time without you, his body boiling with passion, he can’t take this teasing anymore, cursing to himself he stands up, making his way to you toying with yourself on the couch.

“C-can’t do this no more honey, it’s been too damn long.”

Before you know it his body is on you, manhandling you down flat on the couch, your hair falling towards the cushions.

His lips are on you again, this time with a feverish hunger—his beard rubbing against the soft pillows of your cheeks as you hiccup at the sudden power shift.

Your eyes flutter shut, following his moments on your lips, you attempt to keep up with him but now you’ve released an animalistic man with one mission to claim you.

His hands are fast down your waist, his large callouses palms making you gasp at the feeling going straight to your cunt.

He instantly swallows your gasp, growling into your mouth, “can’t go slow, not with you.” He grunts between kisses, “not with you looking at me like this.”

Your eyes flutter open, meeting his wide open gaze.

His eyes say a thousand words, a silent understanding inside of his blown out pupils—he needs you just as much as you need him.

You chase his opened lips, keeping up with his sloppy movements, you allow his tongue into your open mouth, sucking on the digit.

Joel’s body pushes you further against the couch, the leather squeaking at the newly found weight on top of your body, Joel’s frame molding on to your own.

His hands shift down to your thighs, angling them far enough he can slip himself between them, his cock slapping your skin.

“Want this. Want you.” He mutters against your neck, his head nuzzling into the skin.

“You have me.” You say, watching the side of his head, the greying strands much more delicate up close.

That’s all it takes for Joel to line himself against you, his cock heavy as it pushes into your cunt, the stretch already unbearable.

He prays that your fingers made it easier for him to fit inside your folds, but when his cock begins to disappear in your fluttering cunt—he quickly realizes how tight you still are, your walls tensing around the protrusion.

“Joel, too big, too much.” You squirm in his grasp, the feeling of his cock burning the inside of your thighs, your body shaking against the couch.

“Almost done honey, I got ya.” His voice breaks when he looks down between your thighs, his cock slowly digging its way into your mound.

His cock seems so much bigger than the last time you took him, the grueling feeling between your legs makes you cry out to him, holding onto his arms against your head.

“Hey, you got it, always take me so well.” Joel coos, his words helping you calm down.

“It’s been a while,” you hiss, feeling his balls finally flush against your body.

It has been a while, and Joel promises to himself this will never happen again, not if he has anything to do with it.

He looks down at your shaking frame, your face already looking a mess, straggling baby hairs swept over your forehead, the skin caked in sweat. Yet you still look as perfect as he remembered, your face one he’s memorized in the back of his mind.

He feels your walls relax around his cock, pulling back his hips, he begins to set a firm pace, one that pushes you through the couch.

“Shit honey!” He groans, the vibrations forcing you to look up at him.

You watch as he gets lost in the moment, your wet walls hugging his cock so tight, he can’t help the moans that fall from his open mouth, the weeks of waiting going right to his balls.

“I’ve missed you,” you choke out, your hands gripping onto his forearms.

“Missed you too darlin’, never leavin’ you again.” He promises, his eyes raking in your frame.

He pulls his arms back to get a good look at you, each thrust he gives, your breasts bounce in the air, your belly filling with his large cock.

He watches himself pump you full, the outline of his member poking through the skin on your stomach, the sight making him stutter.

“W-wanna say right here, forever.” Joel mutters, his hand running up your belly, his fingertips pressing down just below your navel.

His hand presses his cock up into your g-spot, your body jumping at the feeling.

Each thrust he gives you feels like a silent promise, his body making up for the time he’s missed without you and your cunt can’t get enough, raising your hips to chase more stimulation.

“Feels so good Joel, need more.” You wail, leaning up on your arms to push yourself closer to him.

Joel’s hand falls from your belly to your clit, toying with the sensitive bud, rolling his fingers around it with even pressure.

Your body shivers from the growing sensation in your abdomen, a white hot feeling erupting deep down in your core.

Joel can tell you're close, but his own release is building up, his balls tightening with each snap into your sloppy cunt, the wetness rubbing his cock with pure bliss.

His hands stretch you wider, your knees hitting the sofa as he angles his cock to move faster inside of you, your slick creating a creamy ring around his cock.

“Gonna cum,” Joel announces, bringing his hand down to his cock, but just before he pulls out—you hook your legs onto the back of his hips, forcing him inside.

“J-Joel, you can’t stop, ‘m so close, need you inside.”

You need him inside.

Joel blinks away his orgasm, trying to stop himself from spilling inside of you. He can read between the lines, his mind knowing exactly what you mean, but he needs you to say it.

“You sure?” He chokes out, his rapid movements faltering at his impending release.

“Please. Need to feel all of you.”

The wording makes Joel’s toes curl, his cock tensing in your core as it quickly spills, the thick hot strands filling you full.

Like a ball and chain, he’s tied to you internally, never wanting to leave you or your puffy cunt, he fucks you through his release, his cum burying itself deep inside of you.

His fingers still remain on your clit, rubbing tightly against the bud just right; you know you're close—the telltale signs you always convey begin to take over your body, your moans turning into short gasps and whines.

“Joel, keep going!” You cry out, holding his back closer to your body, his thick jacket puffing around your palms.

Throughout his release, he can feel his cock deflating inside of you, yet that doesn’t stop him from thrusting, his sticky residue swirling around with your slick, you can feel it falling out of your cunt with every pull of his hips.

You try to hold him inside of you, wanting to feel the burning hot liquid around your walls, the feeling uncomparable to anything you’ve ever felt before.

Joel hisses at the choking sensation of your walls, his cock suffocating in the feeling. “Can feel you squeezin’ honey, cum for me please. Show me ‘m yours.

With one sharp thrust you easily come undone, your body arching off of the couch, your head thrown back into the air.

Joel holds you in place, watching the column of your throat expand through each cry of ecstasy, your body shaking in his grasp.

Your walls are a warm blanket of security, the tightening rush of your warmth holds his cock in place as you come down from your high, his seed flowing through your body, a promise of his presence.

Your body begins to truly feel like home.

The snowfall from outside cascades small shadows of flurries on your bare skin, fucked out with your face smushed between the cushions, your still the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

Your cheeks are gleaming with sweat, your body warm to the touch from the fireplace that remains filled, its flames roaring into the air. You’re perfectly imperfect, a full mess of him.

Turning your head to face him, you pry your eyes open, meeting his unashamed staring. You give him a soft smile, your body blooming with love and adoration at the older man resting between your hips.

“Come here.” You urge, throwing your arms wide and nodding your head.

Joel obliges, groaning as he slots himself between you, your tired out body easily molding around his own.

“Stay,” you whisper in his ear, barely audible but he can still hear it, his face deep in your neck.

You can feel him nodding his head rapidly, his body laying against yours so tight you can barely breathe, yet you don’t seem to mind, the weight grounding you in the come down of your orgasm.

He throws his head up to look at you, giving you the same glazed over expression you’ve always given to him. This is one of certainty, a promise of security—no matter what he will try to do this right—all for you.

The quiet moments like this under the moonlight makes everything worth it to Joel, this life is uncertain but he can make the most of it, starting with you.

Although plenty is left unsaid, enough is answered—and that’s good enough for you.

Although your fingers were freezing cold as you twisted the doorknob, you were thankful to see smoke still erupting from the chimney, the grey clouds thinning out into the gloomy sky.

Kicking your snowy boots on the charcoal colored door matt—the white snowy residue was already caked on thick, the fluffy substance falling to the ground in large chunks.

Pushing your fingers in the loops of your wet boots, you easily pull them off your cold, soggy toes, allowing yourself to get more comfortable in the cozy heat of your shared home.

Walking into the house, the hot air almost knocks you back, your nostrils burning as you take a deep breath, replacing it with a soft hum.

With the curtains closed and the main lights shuttered off, your eyes attempt to focus their sight on the dark space, looking around the room for any sign of Joel.

You slide your jacket off your shoulders, placing it on the shaky coat rack, your chest feels lighter as you take a step closer to the living room.

Stepping around the counter—there you see him, lazily sprawled wide on the worn out couch out, his legs dangling off the edge.

You’ll scold him later tonight for his choice of laying his dirty boots on the puffy arm rests, but right now—you can’t help but gravitate towards the sleeping man.

He looks so peaceful like this, the deep lines in his face have softened in his deep sleep; a rare occasion of relaxation has done him well, the sight making your heart swoon.

Your hand follows the curve of the leather, the crumbled skin flaking against your cold palm as you close in on him, getting a closer look at the tired man.

His denim shirt was lazily thrown over the top of the couch cushion, the fabric wrinkling over itself as his torso was left in a thinner material; the deep blue t-shirt hugging him tightly as the material pulled thin around his belly.

A familiar heat rose through your body—not from the fire, but from the need to feel his skin on yours.

You wanted him just like this—the peaceful sight of him was becoming more evident these days, living tucked away in Jackson, Joel wasn’t constantly stuck in survival mode—he was finally living the life he deserved.

You stand there watching him, your frame towering over his resting one as you debate on what you wanted to do.

Should you wake him up? Deprive him of his much needed rest?

No. That seemed unfair—he deserved to catch up on the years of sleepless nights.

Biting the inside of your lip, a memory creeps its way through the cracks of your mind, remembering a casual conversation between the two of you one late evening.

“Anytime you want me, you have me.”

“Even when you’re sleeping?”

“That’d be a nice thing ta’ wake up to ain’t it? I’d be real lucky.”

You believed that conversation was just pillow talk, but right now—you can’t stop thinking about the way his words hummed quietly in your ear, his voice so effortlessly slight, you're unsure if you even remembered them correctly.

That very conversation rotates around your brain like a merry-go-round, the memory making your core tense up.

Anytime. Anywhere.

Did that mean now? Even though he’s sound asleep, little snores bubbling out his chest and through his mouth?

You lean in, taking a closer look at the dreaming man. He looked too damn good to let this opportunity go to waste, his beard grown in just how you like it—scruffy and dark, the silver strands of hair finding solace on his puffy cheeks.

Crossing your legs to relieve the pressure on your cunt, you notice his hair was damp as well, probably came straight home and into the hot shower, washing away all the dirt and leftover grime on his body—it was a shame he didn’t wait for you, but how did he clean up nice, sitting himself snug against the brown cushions.

Your brain turns to mush as your shaky hands absentmindedly make their way down to your jeans, peeling the denim off your legs, the material still cold as it snags against your knees. Pulling them down to the ground, you quietly step out of the thick material, feeling the warm air from the stove swirl around your thighs.

Your shirt is next, the thick material suddenly becoming too itchy as the seconds pass by, throwing it off your body a little too quickly, you swiftly shed the layers—not bothering to take your panties off.

Approaching him, your knees hit the soft curve of the couch as you go to straddle him, feeling your body begin to seep through the cracks of the plush material.

Careful not to awake him—you slowly maneuver up his body, resting your butt against his lower thighs, balancing yourself against your legs.

Your fingers tip-toe up his thick thigh, and even in his sleep, Joel’s body can sense you on top of him, his body follows your touch, the muscles clenching under your fingertips with each warm press of your hand.

Small fingertips softly edge the indent of his upper thigh, quickly feeling the palpable warmth from his heavy balls, the space undeniably him as you lean in, seeing the curve of his cock.

Silently thanking God that Joel put on a loose pair of sweatpants, the outline of his cock ever so slightly pokes through the thin, aged material. The view makes your belly swirl in anticipation, your arm shaking as you raise it in the air.

You giggle to yourself at him forgoing briefs, silently thanking him for the easy access as you roll the waistband down over itself, giving you access to what remains down inside the material.

When you finally feel his half-hard cock against the tops of your fingers—your throat quickly goes dry, swallowing roughly at the feeling as you wrap your palm around him.

You gently pull him from the dark grey cotton, allowing his squishy shaft to lay softly against his pelvis.

Most men would be self conscious at the sight of their soft cock laying against themselves, but when Joel looks like this? His cock weeping a small clear tear of precum, his dark wiry pubes tickling the base of his shaft—he’s never looked so angelic, his body so soft and warm as you sit against his thighs.

But then—his body slightly shifts against you, his stomach stuttering as his breathing begins to shake.

You freeze. Holding your breath deep in your lungs, you wait for any sign of consciousness, yet he only grumbles; his lips smacking together as he sighs, a small snore creeping through his open mouth.

You wouldn’t mind Joel waking up, hell—you’d welcome it, but right now you’re having too much fun without him knowing, the anticipation of getting caught makes your cunt dampen, your wetness brushing past your puffy lips.

Gasping, you watch how the blood rushes to his cock only from your hand, the thick member slightly rising its head, poking its direction towards you.

You can’t wait any longer as you maneuver yourself, anchoring your hips just above his cock, you move your panties to the side to take him, pulling hard at the fabric—the elastic rips as it’s stretched wide, the microscopic threads snapping as they bundle to the side of your pubic bone.

You think it’s best not to tease, instead you rip the bandaid off all at once, feeling his tip catch your aching hole. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the feeling, unable to control your muscle from squeezing down on his head as it inches inside of you.

Biting down on your lip hard enough to draw blood, you sink your way down his cock, tasting the metallic flavor against your tongue as you soothe it over, focusing on anything but Joel’s growing cock inside of your walls.

You bury him to the hilt, his half-hard cock lazily fills your walls with fluidity, the sticky soft skin mixing with your tight warm muscle.

It’s rare to feel him like this, his cock is always excited to see you. Without fail—his dick only ever enters you rock hard and tip throbbing—and to feel him like this, his cock beginning to grow inside of you, makes you grow breathless.

His shaft begins to further expand inside of you, the wide tip blooming against your cervix makes you feel fuller than ever as it rubs against your hard halt, his cock fully awakening inside of you.

Staring down at him—he’s still fast asleep, his deep snores pushed out from his belly echo around your knees, the sleepy sounds letting you know the plan is still in motion.

But then—he moves. Again.

Joel adjusts his hips, the subconscious feeling of weight on his lap, his body responds to the feeling; a pretty wet cunt planted on top of him sends a signal to his body to move. He adjusts his hips, bucking his cock up into your g-spot and the feeling makes your desire bubble to the surface.

Unable to stop the moan that threatens to spill from your lips, your hips accidentally buckle against him, rocking his fuzzy pubes onto your throbbing clit, feeling your eyes flutter into the back of your skull.

You watch his face as you grind your hips into his, his nose twitching and lip wobbling as he breathes uncomfortably through his mouth—a sound so quiet you can barely distinguish it from his snores slips out—a small twisted grunt fumbling from his lips.

You know you should slow down, yet the friction against your fluttering clit feels too good to stop, you still crave more ecstasy—although his cock fills you full, you need the stimulation more than anything, deciding to bypass the dull sensation in your legs by playing with your nipples.

They are hard from the many cold minutes of exposed air, the warm hued pebbles have tightened and gone bumpy as you swirl your finger around your left one, pinching and prodding at the small bud.

Throwing your head back, you feel your throat quickly tighten as a sinful moan rips from your lips—the noise finally loud enough to wake Joel from his dreams.

His eyes flutter open, his own mouth wide in shock as he sees you naked, planted on his now freed cock.

“Shit honey! W-what are you doing?” He groans, jaw slack as his eyes soak in the sight.

“Looked too good, couldn’t wait.” Breathless, your movements heed on, grinding yourself shamelessly onto his cock, feeling his cock jump as it pushes against your walls.

Adjusting himself on the couch, he gets comfortable enough to watch you on top of him, his hands flying down to your waist.

“‘s a good thing you couldn’t wait, feels so good I thought I was dreamin’.” His hands dig into the fat of your hips, encouraging your body to grind against him.

Your hips stutter from his words, a wicked smirk growing on your cheeks as you look down at him, anchoring your palm on his chest.

“W-what were you dreaming about?”

“This right here honey, watchin’ you take this dick, making yourself feel real good.”

His words sound like honey on your tongue, his sweet raspy voice rumbles against your core. He wants you to make yourself feel good—fuck yourself right on his cock.

“Keep wakin’ me up like this, gon’ live forever.” Joel swoons, his eyes turning black as his pupils dilate at the sight of you taking him so effortlessly.

Moaning, you begin to pick your hips up, taking his cock just like he said, you pound your ass onto his hips, feeling his cock plunge deep inside of you.

“Just like that honey, take all the time you need.”

Your hips drop roughly onto his cock, the plopping sound fills the room as you take him like a bitch in heat.

Your breathing hitches in your throat at the full feeling between your legs, feeling like a puddle on his lap.

“Knew what she needed, took it without askin’.”He gleams, taking your hand off his chest and to his mouth, kissing your wrist.

Joel’s being real soft on you—he knows exactly what to say to make you feel like mush, his words making your body tingle with arousal.

Joel’s dominant hand comes up flat against your belly, feeling his cock pump in and out of your body as he pushes down against the flesh. He can’t help but growl at the feeling—you, his pretty girl is taking him fully, all without an ounce of hesitation.

His hand travels further until it hits the fat of your chest, his fingers grazing the soft skin underneath your round breasts.

Taking a nipple in his fingers, he roughly rubs the pebble on his fingerprints, feeling it soften against his warmth before he’s pinching it hard—roughly twirling and pulling at the bead.

Repeating his actions, he doesn’t forgo your neglected breast, his hand light to the touch as it travels over the valley between your chest, his fingers finding your other nipple.

“Lookin’ real pretty down here, tits bouncin’ and pussy clenching. You take me so well baby.”

His soft and sharp movements on your tits send fiery signals down to your clit, your body heating up with its impending orgasm.

You’re not sure how much longer you can keep up your pace, your thighs burning from the movements of your hips.

“J-Joel, want you to fill me up, fuck me full of you.” You cry, your pace faltering as you attempt to grab onto him for leverage.

“Shit,” he curses, adjusting himself to lift up his hips, his cock meeting your cunt. “I will darlin’, get yer belly full from my cock.”

“Please, please, please!” You repeat like a mantra, unsure what your saying at this point, your mind going fuzzy as he finds a way to fuck into you.

His hips are much faster than your tired ones, his cock fucking up into your g-spot, you angle your hips in such a way to feel his pelvis against your clit, the prodding motion finally making you cum hard on his dick.

Throwing your head back, a strangled whine releases from the back of your throat as you ride out the feeling of your release, your walls clenching as you shake.

Your hips rock against him like a wave, tall circular motions from your wet leaking pussy cause Joel’s dick to tense up inside of your tight walls, feeling his own release erupt.

“Just like that-fuck!” His cum fills you deep, your body on top of him creates a plug for his seed, every last inch of his release enters your walls—all without falling out.

Your cunt is greedy, body grinding and walls clenching as it sucks him dry until his last drop, letting it soak past your cervix.

Being on top for so long as made you grow tired, throwing your arms around him, you easily fall into his neck, your body fitting against him like a puzzle piece.

“Thank you,” you mumble into his ear, brushing your nose past his hairy cheek.

His lips find your temple, planting a small peck to the sweaty skin.

“Want ya to stay right here for a bit, try ‘n relax.” He murmurs, his voice still hoarse from his nap.

“Mhm, too tired to get up.” You whisper, your eyes growing heavy with sleep.

You’re tired yet Joel is wide awake, dragging his hand up and down your spine.

He listens to your breathing even out against him, his eyes gazing over to the window—watching the heavy snowfall pour from the sky.

You decided today was the day for its final demise, taking a broken broom to the ash, you carefully placed it into the dustpan on the ground, your movements precise to not disturb the wooden floorboards of the living room.

The sweeping motions caused the soot to build up in the sharp edges of the bricks which instantly irritated you. Scoffing at the sight, you leaned further into the fireplace with the brush in hand, ready to swipe it away.

Your swiping motions were successful—until they weren’t, the clumps brushing away revealed a big lump of wood completely hidden in the mess.

The small piece fell right into a small hole at the farthest right side of the fireplace, the contaminants tumbling between two bricks.

Furrowing your brows, you proceeded to get a closer look at the unknowing trap, the loose slabs wiggling around with a single push of your fingers.

The gap couldn’t have been more than an inch or two, and with quick thinking, you stuck your hand behind them, attempting to grab the piece of wood. Your fingers weren’t as long as you thought, the scratchy surface only slightly brushing your fingertips as you reached for it.

You leaned forward again, your body now half way into the fireplace as you tried to grab it but unfortunately for you—the brick slammed down on your hand, situating it tightly between the edge.

Trying your hardest, you wiggled your hand around the gap, attempting to force it out, but it was no use—your fingers long gone to the force of the bricks.

Your breathing picked up in your chest as you became more erratic, thrashing your body backwards to pull your fingers out like a bath plug, yet nothing seemed to help.

Joel was home today, working on a project in the next room over, today was supposed to be a lazy morning for the two of you, but of course—your hand had other plans.

“Joel!” You call out jaded, unsure of what room he’s even inside of right now, your voice echoing through the walls of your shared home.

He's bent over his desk, toying with an hours-long wood carving, his fingers beginning to cramp up at the strenuous movements.

Your call for help stops him in his tracks, his hand accidentally chipping away an important part of his design.

Cursing, he instantly stops his breathing, listening to the faint sound of you calling for help, the painful echoes instantly hit his ears, making his heart sink in his stomach.

Standing up as fast as he can, he doesn’t wait for another yelp, rushing to the sound of your muffled noises, your groans of pain calling to him.

He winds down the hall, his boots patting down the staircase, but halfway down he sees you—your body emerged inside the emptied fireplace.

“Good god honey, what happened?” He questions watching you thrash around, shocked at the position you're in.

“Joel ‘s that you? ‘m stuck!” You exclaim, voice muffled by the red brick walls.

“Are-are you hurt?” His eyes widen, running over to your curved body to help free you from your twisted arrangement.

It’s an unusual sight to see you like this, your head completely turned away from him, your hand flat against the corner of the fireplace in a spot he can’t see.

“No, my fingers just stuck, can’t pull it outta the gap.” You grouch, upset at the tight walls surrounding your body.

The bricks scratch the soft skin of your biceps with each movement you do to release yourself, your hips digging into the curve of the square structure placed in the wall.

“Need your help Joel, I can’t get out of here.”

Joel listens, yet he can’t help but stare—your outfit doing its best to distract him.

You’re clad in small red shorts, the fabric tight around your body, wearing the house clothes you’ve reserved for quiet days alone with him. The shorts belonged to the group of clothes you buy and wear once because they don’t cover anything they need to, the rolled up material you’ve donned for ‘his eyes only’.

You’re still wiggling yourself around in an attempt to free your fingers, but with each pull of your body, your ass ricochetes in the air, the fat globes of flesh snapping around your hips.

Joel doesn’t mean to let the breathy noise escape from his chest, a large smile blooming across his face he’s thankfully you can’t catch. “Yeah, yer stuck all right sweetpea.”

“It’s not funny, can’t get my hand out from the crack.” You reply defeated, pushing your stomach down onto the bricks in a last resort for comfort, your ass popping forward into Joel’s direction.

He’s caught you in a porno plot from his teenage dreams, always stealing his fathers x-rated vhs tapes; his favorite scene being similar to the one playing out in front of him, but instead of a washer—you’re stuck in the fireplace.

He bends down on his knees, the bones cracking as they hit the rug, his body inches away from you.

At his powerful position, he gets a perfect view of your bottom half, your thigh high socks dig perfectly into the soft skin of your curves, just a small sliver of exposed skin poking out from the gaps.

You had to of known what you’re doing dressed like this; tight socks and even tighter shorts, your flesh sends a sharp signal down to his cock, feeling himself already beginning to balloon in his jeans.

He places a hand on the small sliver of exposed flesh just under your ass, his palms drifting up and down the expanse of soft skin, watching how the socks roll as he maneuvers around his hands.

“Whendya put these on?” He questions, his fingers pinching the fabric of your socks, the band digging into the plush fat of your thighs.

“A bit ago, was getting cold.” You mewl back, bothered you can’t see his face.

You arch your back at the dusting of his fingers, your cloth covered mound poking through the swell of your cheeks, revealing a dampening wet patch that makes him swipe his hand over his mouth at the sight.

You can hear his beard scratching in the air, the barbed hair follicles brushing back, then forwards as if he’s caught in a long pause of thought.

“Are you gonna help me?” You beg, quite literally on your hands and knees, your head warming at the pooling of blood from the position.

Joel breathes in to answer, yet when he does—he smells the sweet aroma from your cunt trailing to his nose.

He’s drawn to the scent like a bloodhound, his head dipping low between your thighs, getting a closer whiff of your sticky cunt.

It’s quite perverted of him to gawk at you like this, his cock jumping up at the sight of your pussy tightening in the fabric, your lips flexing at the antsy waiting game.

“Shit,” he rasps, voice scratching at the uncomfortable position of his cock poking through his jeans, “you really need help?”

“Joel,” you whine out his name, the sound echoing in the brick walls in which you're trapped in.

He leans back up, maneuvering his knees on the plush rug sat underneath him, his hips uncontrollably flexing onto you, his hard cock poking your covered entrance.

“What’re you doing,” you groan, wondering what’s taking so long.

It would be so easy for him to free your hand, yet he’s tall behind you like this, his cock stalking your covered cunt, he can’t help but realistically wonder how plausible it would be too take you right now just like this, your body stuck and vulnerable.

You're quickly becoming antsy, wiggling your hips in a pitiful attempt to escape, yet you're stuck between a half-metaphorical, half-literal rock in a hard place—the hard brick walls pinching on your hand while Joel's bodies the hard place you can’t escape from.

Thinking of every way you can get yourself out of this sticky situation, Joel pressing on your hips gives you a bright-eyed idea.

“Just pull my hips, ‘s stuck pretty deep.”

Joel sighs, knowing you’ve won the mental battle, that it’s time to back off from the perversions of his mind to finally help you out, the idea being fun while it lasted.

“Alright honey, I’ll try but, I don’t wanna hurt ya.”

His visual playtime is over, yet something otherworldly stops him from maneuvering you out of your position, his cock begging for a taste of your delicious cunt.

“I’ll say something if it hurts.” You reply eagerly, hoping your words will finally get this show on the road.

Joel brings his shaking hands down to each side of your waist, anchoring himself at the shorts thick waistband.

He tries not to look at the sewn hem on your butt, the stitching drifting up your asscrack, but it’s no use—swallowing the lump in his throat he clears it, hoping you didn’t notice the searing eyes on your backside.

“Alright ya ready?” He questions, getting one last look of you arched out in front of him.

“Mhm.”

Joel pulls hard, hard enough a squeak brushes out of your lungs, but instead of you popping right out—your shorts roll down your hips, the material bundling half way down your asscrack.

His eyes are wide at the sudden exposure of your butt, his tastebuds dampening at the sight of the skin. “Shit! ‘m sorry d-didn’t mean ta’ do that.”

“It’s okay,” you reply softly, your cunt so slick from his movements, you get a twisted idea. “Maybe just take them off and pull again, get a better grip on me.”

“Yeah, alright. Good idea.”

A really good idea.

Joel wants to see you squirm around naked, ass out, cunt perked up for him, your flesh shaking around at his eye level in an attempt to free yourself would be a sight to make him cum in his pants.

Adrenaline courses through his veins as he pulls the material the rest of the way down your body, the material bunching at your socks, getting stuck on the fabric.

“I gotta pull ‘em all the way off sweetheart, it ain’t working, ‘s gettin’ caught.”

“Do what you have to, I trust you.” You mewl, your cunt further dampening at the movements on your hips.

You shouldn’t trust him—not when he peers down at your puffy lips taking a look at your exposed cunt, the slick dripping down from your insides in a thick droplet; it falling to the floor.

“Alright,” he groans, biting through his teeth. “Gon’ try this again.”

“I’m ready,” you coo, tightening your stomach for the steady pressure on your body.

Joel leans himself against you, your bare cunt flush with his stiff member, feeling your wetness smearing all over the blue denim.

Gripping you with large arms, he pulls you backward, yet your body remains still in the combines of the fireplace.

The only part of your body that ends up shifting is your bare ass, the round flesh rubbing against his painfully hard erection.

The wetness is quick, it travels down into the inside of his jeans, the liquid swirling around his cock with each press of your hips on his, the feeling making him hiss.

“Honey, I-I’m sorry,” Joel groans. “You’re wakin’ him up.”

You shiver—not from the cold chills from the living room, but the way he’s rubbing himself against you, his covered cock pressing your empty hole.

He’s shamelessly humping his cock into your bare ass, but all you can do is take it, listening to him pant as you're stuck in the wall.

His breathing picks up with every roll of his body, his cool metal zipper rubbing against your slit feels freezing to the touch; your warm cunt buzzing at the feeling.

Joel pulls away with a grunt, bringing his hand down to his cock, he rapidly grips on to the fly off his jeans, ripping it down with ease, the gold teeth zipping in the still air.

“Gotta feel ya, ‘m sorry. Jus’ stay right there ‘nd lemme have this pretty cunt.”

Swallowing your spit, you can only listen to his movements behind you, his face concealed by the red brick walls.

He sees your pussy clench around nothing, your asshole wide open from the stretched out angle, all of your most intimate parts spread for him reflecting in the living room lighting, the sun peering through the windows.

It’s nice to see you like this—especially at this position, legs spread open, your body arched into the sky, your sex wide—two perfect holes he has the opportunity to bury his cock in.

Joel pulls his member out from his boxers, the tip perking in the direction of your needy cunt. He’s already dripping for you, the precum drooling down to the base of his cock, the slick smearing against his balls.

He places himself against your tight asshole, watching the size difference between his tip and the small ring, his precum dripping at the tight entrance.

“Joel, w-what are you doing?” You shake shake out, your voice worried at the feeling of him approaching your asshole.

“Hmm? Just thinkin’.” He pauses, rubbing his cock in circles against your asshole. “You look real pretty back ‘ere.”

Joel almost presses himself in—yet he changes his mind at the sight of your dripping cunt clenching around nothing, the warm hues of your slick pussy looking back at him, begging to take his cock.

He loves when you’re like this—your body responding to every sign of stimulation he gives you, you never complain—always taking him like you're made for it.

He drags his cock down your slit, letting it collect the juices you’ve been secretly leaking this whole time. He hisses at the contact of your wet pussy soaking him, your walls already trying to pull him in, your greedy cunt practically pulsating at his intrusion.

“Such a good girl, yeah? Lettin’ me have her like this.” Joel praises behind you, his words softly muttered under his breath as if he’s speaking to himself instead of you.

If he had a clear head, he’d gently fit around you, carefully untangling your fingers from their uncomfortable position snapped under the weight of the bricks, then take you back in the bedroom, yet right now—Joel can only think with his aching cock, angling it against your tight entrance.

As he enters your snug walls, he doesn’t bother going slow, his balls too desperate to empty themselves, his dick inching in you slowly yet firmly until he’s bumping the fleshy part of your cervix.

Your pussy chokes on his cock, trying your best to accommodate his large size, you clamp down against the thick trespasser entering your walls stretching them wide open.

The wetness fills the quiet room; so loud you can hear it from the combines of your brick walls, each squeeze causes the squelching on his dick to create a small ring of slick around the base of his cock, the liquid smearing on his large balls.

“Couldn’t take ya later, had to have ya right now honey-shit! Squeezin’ me so tight.” Joel hisses, the clenching from your pussy making him feel just as claustrophobic as you are halfway stuck in the fireplace.

“Joel, ‘s hurting.” You cry out, although he can’t see it, your eyes are pricking with bountiful tears, the liquid painting the corners of your eyes as it drips down into the dry bricks.

Your pussy is killing him—he’s pretty sure his cock is about to snap in half inside of you, his naked dick feeling every single ridge and indent of your gummy enclosure.

“Thinkin’ yer tryna push me out of her, leave ya alone and help you get outta here.”

The last thing you want is for him to leave you alone, the burning sensation is just beginning to feel good, his curved cock pressing into the spot you want it to most, the head dripping against your cervix.

“No, no! Feels so so good,” you practically purr, your voice vibrating, the vibrato bounding off the walls into his ears.

Joel doesn’t give you any time to adjust, yanking his hips back—he rapidly snaps them back against your ass, watching it ricochet with every thrust of his cock filling your wary cunt.

You find it hard to breathe in the unbearable position, the soft flesh of your belly biting at the scratchy surface of the fireplace, the leftover dust hitting your nose.

“Maybe this cock‘ll get ya unstuck, here-lemme help ya.” His hands feverishly grip your thighs, pulling you back on his cock, having you do the work for his tired knees.

Breathless, your body rocks roughly against the grate, the grains of charcoal-flamed wood eat at the flesh of your stomach, the microscopic splinters digging your skin.

He’s fucking into you like an animal in heat, his cock plunging in and out of your core at an alarming rate, his wide tip drilling onto your g-spot, massaging the gooey sponge of nerves.

You look down at your fingers in the dark space, wiggling them deeper down the hole—you flatten the digits the best you can and to your suprise—they pop right out.

You don’t tell Joel right away his twisted plan disguised in ecstasy worked, choosing to lose yourself in the feeling of his thick cock plunging into your walls, angling your hips to rub his balls against your clit.

Joel’s been watching you the whole time, the back of your head deep in the dry dark space, the way your spine curves to take him just how he likes it, your ass wobbling like water with every thrust he gives you.

You’ve taken him like a professional this whole time, your wet cunt beginning to squeeze around him showing him how much you're enjoying yourself—although you're awfully quiet.

“I’m so close,” you murmur out loud, using your newly freed hand to shimmy it under your belly, toying with your clit.

Joel’s brows furrow at the sight—he was definitely sure your right hand was the one that was supposed to be stuck in the uncomfortable crack, not shamelessly rubbing down your clit.

“Hey!” He snaps, his hips stilling, getting your attention.

So close to cumming, your hand pauses on your cunt, your fingers shaking around the flesh.

“Thought you were stuck in there?” He questions, his cock pulsating in your mound.

“I-it was,” you stammer, voice shaking similar to your cunt. “It just slipped out.”

“Yeah, slipped out and onto this pretty pussy.” He hums, slowly pulling out of your cunt.

You wince at the loss of fullness, your body feeling starkly empty—you were so, so, so close to cumming, yet Joel ripped that away from you.

Joel peers down from your wet cunt to your thighs, the key-like shape at the base of your pussy is the perfect spot for his large cock to fuck into as he slips himself between your thighs, filing the space.

He uses the accumulated slick from your crying cunt to thrust his dick into your thighs, the plush skin allowing him to glide easily between them.

“Oh Lord baby look at you, fittin’ me like a glove.” He praises through thrusts, voice raspy with want.

The tops of your socks rub deliciously on the underside of his thick cock, the grain of the cloth burning against his balls.

He builds up his pace once again, fastly sliding in and out of your thighs, his cock occasionally filling your slit as it bumps your pussy.

To your surprise, the tip of his cock begins to prod itself at your swollen clit, rubbing itself fast on the bundle of nerves, your breathing hitches—the feeling of your orgasm building once again.

Your cunt is on fire in a different way, your clit continuously pushed around by his cock makes your knees clamp shut, forcing his dick further up your thighs and against your slit.

“Hell honey, should’ve been usin’ these thighs since the beginning, just as tight as that pussy.” Joel curses, his moments easily fading into sloppier movements.

His knees are killing him at the position, the soft rug doing little to relieve his old joints, he can feel the bruising pressure from his body weight sat on top of them—but that’s no reason for him to stop, your squishy slick feels too good like this, your thick thighs tugging his cock hard enough to make him cum.

“J-Joel, feels so good,” you whine, toes curling at the shaking in your abdomen, his balls slapping loudly against your butt.

You’re so close again, your aching cunt begging for release, your thighs begin to shake, his thick cock making them burn from all the rapid movement.

“Hell this feel good, baby? Gonna cum for me? Get me even slicker?” Joel repeatedly questions, his voice in a growl as his fingers dig deeply into your flesh, his fingertips sure to leave a bruise by bedtime.

Your eyes roll into the back of his head at the idea of your gushing cunt leaking onto his shaft makes you cum hard against him.

Your pleading cunt is finally winning her case against his angry cock, your clit throbbing with how Joel easily rides out your orgasm.

The feeling burns all throughout your bottom half, the white lighting in your belly is just as electric as your rug-burned inner thighs, the thin soft skin surely has blistered by now—but you keep your knees tight, praying for his eventual release.

“Jus’, like I thought, getting me soaked honey, can’t hold back much longer.”

“Cum on me Joel, wanna feel you cum on my thighs.”

Confidence pours through your aching bones at his closeness, you can’t wait to finally change from your painful position—you arch yourself back against him, your thighs fully covering every last inch of his cock.

“Ahh-shit!”

Joel’s cum pours out of him like a fire hydrant, the thick ropes insanity raining on your thighs, his cock pumping until it’s empty of his drippings, the liquid all over your bottom half.

The position was far from ideal, your body covered in his seed, the white nectar dripping against the flesh, its buildup pooling at the edge of your socks.

Joel is leant back, watching the picture he’s painted in primal ecstasy, the white seed bright against your socks.

He sighs at the mess, watching your body unsure of how to bend back up straight, the grueling position has probably left you sore, your face dusty from the fireplace ash.

“You’re alright sweetheart?” He wonders, gently helping you sit up straight.

“Yeah.” You answer light headed, your body feeling like jelly.

You can smell the burnt dust on your skin, the crumbles of residue tickle the sides of your temples—this dirty little fireplace almost won today.

“Glad ya got it out but…but next time…let me do it.”

But technically speaking—he did release your fingers, you just needed help from his eager cock.

Honestly, Joel’s been pushing your limits for multiple days now, between the longer hours at work and the copious amount of last minute yard work, you’ve quickly grown tired of the distance between the two of you.

You’re well aware he doesn’t mean no harm, that he’s simply working hard to provide for the household, and with Joel never knowing when work will eventually slow down—it’s important that he takes every job he can, even if that means being home less.

You would never complain to his face, making sure to stop yourself from saying anything out loud; but when he rolls into bed late at night, his eyes tired and body aching—he falls straight to sleep, not bothering to pay you any attention.

Maybe it’s selfish, yet you can’t stop the sour feeling in your gut when he kisses you on the forehead, mumbling something about how tired he is and rolling his body away from yours, giving you the cold shoulder night after night.

You brought it up once in bed, the moon high in the night sky, Joel held you tight from behind, his body warm and thick against your back as he rubbed circles in your hip, the slight attention going straight to your begging core.

Testing the waters, you cautiously pushed your ass against him, wiggling your hips just how he liked.

His soft cock was nestled snuggly between your asscheeks; you knew it would be inevitable—tonight would finally be the night to cure you from the dry spell he’s forced you to endure.

But unfortunately for you, Joel’s massaging hand gripped down tightly against your hip, muttering his same old mantra ‘too tired honey, maybe tomorrow.’

You fell asleep that night with your heart pounding in your chest and smoke blowing out of your ears—Joel was driving you nuts.

It was beginning to turn dark outside, the sky almost black as the sun set in the horizon and Joel was still up on the roof, the same antagonizing hammer pounding roughly on the surface.

Frustrated as you watched the pot of water begin to boil, you almost snapped the wooden spoon held in your grip, your knuckles turning transparent from the tightness of your closed fist.

Before your own anger could begin to boil to the surface, the pounding finally stopped—the loud footsteps continued on as you could finally hear the metal scraping of the ladder perched on the wall behind your home, his steps clomping down the metal as you stared at the roaring pot.

Sighing, you shut the stove off, completely forgetting about starting dinner as you rushed outside to confront the man, or force him to pay attention to you.

Throwing the door open you swiftly rounded the corner and to your surprise, Joel’s body collided with yours, almost pushing you flat to the ground.

Joel’s hands quickly held onto you, his fast thinking stifling your fall as he grips you tightly, his eyes wide as he stares you down.

“Everything alright?” He goes to question, but before he can fully realize the emergent situation—your hands find his fuzzy cheeks, pulling his head down to your lips.

Joel’s head jerks against yours, his lips flat while the gears in his brain begin to rapidly shift before he’s meeting your desperate mouth, fitting himself around your lips.

The kiss is hot, desperate, and painfully him; the week-long tension begins to melt away between your lips at the connection.

You feel your teeth clatter against his, your body buzzing at the taste of him, the shy remnants of mint gum tickle your tongue with a lick of your lips.

In an exasperated breath, Joel pulls you away by the waist, his eyes wide as he soaks you in. “W-What’s this about darlin’?”

Shaking your head, the adrenaline to have him hits you hard, your body buzzing with excitement as your hands snake up his back, feeling his warm skin tickle your cool palms.

“Been ignoring me all week, want you so bad ‘m going crazy.”

Joel squeezes your hips, the feeling of his big hands against you makes a painful whimper screech out from your larynx. The last thing you want to do right now is explain yourself, but when Joel asks a question—you know to always answer.

You push yourself into his neck, placing a kiss to the soft skin behind his ear, “haven’t spent no time with me ‘n days.”

Joel sighs, the grumble rumbling through his chest sends vibrations to your head. “That ain’t true baby, been real busy, you know that.”

“Too busy to touch me, ‘s not fair.” You mumble, desperation in your voice.

It’s been too long since you’ve felt his body against your frame, his soft belly pushing into your chest; you can feel the expansion of his breathing as you match it to your own, his presence alone calming your fiery rage down.

Joel doesn’t mean to push you away, of course—it’s never on purpose, balancing the overflowing workload with his personal life, the lines always blur.

He looks down at you glued to him, your arms prodding and clawing at every inch of skin on his body, your face snug against his shoulder.

It's nice to feel you like this, yet Joel can’t help his subconscious whispering up the back of his neck—he stinks, his shirts soaked with sweat and you're currently rubbing your face in his mess.

“‘m real dirty baby, been workin’ outside all damn day.”

“I know.”

Obviously you know—but you don’t care.

The scent reminds you of him, the hard hours of yard work, it’s the same scent he carries after a long day at work—minus the sawdust.

He usually smells so good, a delightful combination of cedar and pine, his breath carrying a strong flavor of spearmint; it’s the kind of scent that makes your toes curl as he wafts through the air.

But now? He smells like a man, the earthy skin-like smell is almost animalistic, his own unique smell of sweat melts into his earlier cleanly appearance and you can’t get enough of it.

Nuzzling your face in his sweat, you pout against him—you can’t bear unwrapping yourself off of him—not when he smells like this.

Joel’s hands tighten around your waist, trying to let you down gently, his words soft as he whispers into your hair. “How about we eat dinner ‘n you can join me in the shower.”

He's bargaining with you—you know that.

Never wanting to be caught up with himself, Joel always makes sure his personal hygiene is in order, yet you’ve caught him off guard, and you can’t help but wonder what he tastes like.

You push your nose up his neck, feeling your cartilage shift at the rough pressure of your movements.

Your reddened lips move with the coarse skin as you drag them around, the stubble on his neck beginning to burn at your lips.

Taking a deep breath in, you start peppering small pecks on every inch of flesh possible, your head flowing down to the collar of his lousy t-shirt.

Fluttering your eyes open, you see his arms raised slightly above his body as they hold you in place, getting a strong whiff of his armpits.

The smell isn’t unsettling though, the sweaty musk is masked by his strong deodorant and it makes you cunt dampen—quickly crossing your legs tight to send dull pleasure down to your clit.

“W-what are you doing?” Joel asks, his voice picking up at the scary sight of you smelling him like a dog, yet you aren’t ashamed—your tastebuds dampening at the scent.

“Can’t wait.”

He smells so good like this, a long hard day of working on the house—spending hours hanging garland and Christmas lights, he did all of this for you, just to make you happy, and it’s not like you to refuse to return the favor.

“Be real fast, just need to taste you.”

Joel’s brows furrow so hard his eyes involuntarily close, feeling your nose tickle against his bicep, it doesn’t take long for him to put two and two together, realizing your mouth is headed to the crease of his arm.

“You don’t need to be doin’ all of that baby,” he taps your cheek, giving you a way out. “How about we take this inside.”

“Nope,” you press, pushing out the ‘p’ sound with your lips.

Your teeth bite down on the sleeve of his shirt, feeling his bicep tense under the pressure as you drag it up, the material bunching at the top of his shoulder.

Taking a deep breath, you can smell the powder residue on his armpits, the scent mixing with his sweat makes you groan out into his underarm, the hairs poking your cheeks.

Joel pries his eyes open, seeing you in the moment like this—your face snug against his arm, he can’t find a reason to stop you—realizing it’s better to let you have your way.

You purse your lips against the hair, placing a small kiss to the damped fibers, your gentle reminder that no matter what—you always crave Joel, no matter how dirty and tired he may be.

Joel can’t believe it, your pretty face kissing up on him so smelly and worn out, it makes his knees buckle in the yard.

He can feel the wind beginning to bite at his cheeks, yet that doesn’t matter when you're so pliable like this against him, your mouth kissing every inch you can take.

You bring your hand down to settle at his belt, anchoring yourself against him. Feeling the warmth blooming underneath your finger tips, your hand travels further, feeling his hard member in your grasp—you press down, hearing Joel groan.

“Shit, don’t know what’s gotten into ya, what’s makin’ you act this way...”

“You haven’t got into me lately, that's for sure.” You quickly retort, sinking to your knees.

The bones in your thighs crack as they hit the freshly trimmed grass, the glass like strands biting your soft skin.

Quickly, your hands are on his belt, pulling and prodding at the metal buckle, you slip it off with ease, letting it pry open against his belt loops.

“That’s what all this is about?

“Mhm.”

Popping the button, you quickly release him from the starchy denim, his blue boxers staring back at you. The smell is so him—the accumulated sweat and musk swirls your nostrils as you unashamedly breathe him deep in your chest.

“Work too hard, you're too damn stubborn Joel.”

His cock is already rock hard, the tent filling the cotton material full, a small stain of precum plastered on the right side of the stitching makes your mouth water—it’s been too long without his dick inside of you and you can’t wait another second to taste him.

“Darlin’, you don’t needa do all tha-shit.”

You stick your tongue out, placing it right onto the fabric, letting your senses do all the work for you. The salty taste mixing with the musky scent makes your knees give out—and you’re thankful you're already on the ground.

“Need me this bad huh?”

“Mhm,” you babble—not bothering to rip your lips from the rough fabric of the cotton, the fuzzy fabric sticking to your tongue as you soak through it.

“Honey, don’t gotta do all this ta’ me.”

Joel’s hands fly to your head, angling your checks back to get a better look of your face licking his covered cock.

He can’t help but moan at the sight—a deep guttural noise rips out of his chest when he watches you coat his length, the warmth blooming from your tongue feeling too good to hold back.

Suddenly Joel grabs you by the crease of your underarms, lifting you up off the ground and back on your feet.

Breathless, you're forced to look at him, his eyes darkened in the dim lighting of the night. You quickly become thankful he’s been out all day hanging these flimsy lights over the roof, their warm lighten casting a soft hue to his hardened features. Even in the dark of the night—Joel sees you, his eyes meeting yours as if he’s seeing through you and past the heat of the moment.

When he sees your spit smothered face, your cheeks warm and glistening, his hips buck into yours; his wet boxers brushing against your stomach, the swift movement pushing your shirt up.

You sigh at the cool brush of air, staring at him in shock as he presses his hands into your waist, pushing you backwards until your body hits the wooden fence.

“You think I’d ever ignore ya?” Joel words are angry, his voice hiked into a frustrated question as he pins you against the surface, his arms caged in over your chest.

“N-no, not on purpose,” you mumble breathless, the harsh splintering wood poking at your soft skin causes you to wiggle in his grasp.

Joel stands between your legs, his right hand coming down between your thighs—the action is quick, his skillful fingers knowing his way around your body as he unbuttons your pants, your fly flying wide open.

Biting your lip, you look around the backyard at the houses that line your own home, the occasional porch lights flickering in the distance. “Should we go inside?”

Joel clicks his tongue, his eyes a deep shade of brown under the sparkling lights. “Nope, thought you couldn’t wait. Been wantin’ it so bad, gotta take it back here.”

He pushes your pants down with ease, the material pooling at your ankles as it ruffles the grass, your cunt hitting the cool night sky.

Your panties are soaked, the wet spot clinginging to your fuzzy mound makes you shiver, the heated gushing of wetness turning cold at the night air.

Joel fingers come up to your covered lips, his hand palming you through the flimsy material.

“W-What if someone sees you?” You ask, knowing deep down in your gut, you’d take him just about anywhere at this point—in a crowded room or in the middle of the grocery store, your backyard seems like the safest sanctuary for him to fuck your brains out.

Joel just stares at you, a glint in his eyes you haven’t seen in a while, the boyish risqué look on his face makes your lips turn into a smile as he whispers, his breath hitting your cheeks.

“Let them.”

Any rebuttal dies in your throat as you smile back at him, a silent agreement between the two of you as he continues on exposing your body.

Joel’s hands swipe under your hips, his fingers carelessly swiping your underwear down your legs, the thin fabric rolling in on itself as it folds down your body, leaving your puffy swollen cunt revealed to his eyes.

“Ain’t fair I didn’t get to taste ya.” He licks his lips at the sight, your wetness coating against the hairs of your pussy, the sticky nectar creating droplets down your slit.

“That’s too bad,” you coo up at him, spreading your leg wide he can get a better view of your crying cunt, leaning your leg against the wooden fence.

Joel’s breath hitches at your playfulness, unable to wait any longer to be inside of you, his tip pops out of his boxers with one fluid motion, his balls tight against his hand as he holds himself up out of the cotton, angling himself to your core.

He smears the head around your slick, the delicious nectar coating him with your warmth as he catches against your entrance.

“This wet already?” He picks on you, his voice light with a laugh as he muffles back a moan.

“Been awhile,” You hiss, feeling Joel’s tip get lost in your entrance, your hole sucking him in tight.

You’re so snug around his cock has no other choice than to sink in your cunt. The wetness feels like the ocean against his cock, the head traveling deeper and deeper until he’s buried to the hilt, your warm walls crashing against his cock.

“Oh my God!” You shake out, feeling your legs burn at the stretch, your cunt split open around his girthy cock, it’s hard to focus on anything but him, feeling your brain turn into mush at the sensation.

“She’s real tight, ‘s been a while ain’t it?” Joel hisses through his teeth—and he isn’t any better off, your walls convulsing around his cock he can feel every curve of your walls, the sticky flesh hugging him tight.

He starts with a slow thrust, his hips pulling his member almost completely out of your pussy before plowing back in, a continuous cycle as he repeats the motions, rocking you into the wood with each thrust.

“Feels so good,” you wail, your hands finding his neck as you attempt to take him, your body relaxing around his strong snapping hips.

Joel says something you don’t register, his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck as he picks up his speed, the thick mushroom tip plowing rapidly into your g-spot.

His body is so close to yours you can smell him again but this time—his smell mixes with your own, the sweat concoction swirls in your brain, and you can hear the rush of wetness pool around his cock.

“Just needed some dick ain’t that right?” He groans out loud, his words vibrating all the way down to your collarbone.

Something’s snapped in Joel, maybe it’s the long days and lonely nights without being inside of you, because tonight—he completely owns your body, his cock stretching you full of the memory of him inside of you.

“Need it so bad Joel, c-can’t believe you made me go so long without it.”

“Never make ya go without it again, you hear me? Deserve ta’ get fucked all the time.” He grunts back, and his words match his confident movements, and you know he’s telling the truth.

His lips attach to your neck, his tongue finding solace on the sticky residue of your heated skin as he bites down on the flesh, visually claiming you with his teeth.

You cry out, tears brimming the corners of your eyes as you hold on to him for dear life, the fence creaking and wobbling with each snap of his hips and you pray he doesn’t break the wood, knowing you’re getting close to your end.

His hips snap into your so loudly you're sure the whole neighborhood can hear him, your walls gushing around his protruding presence between your thighs, the noise echoing through the night.

His hand travels down your front, his fingers toying with the small patch of hair that covers your mound as he presses down between your lips, finding your swollen clit.

He pushes the bud down hard, rubbing fast urgent moments into your body, the feeling going straight to your belly as you jerk around in his grasp.

“Fuck Joel!” The feeling quickly becomes overstimulating as you scream out his name, the boiling heat in your core trying to stall its eruption.

“Tell me who’s makin’ you scream like this.”

“Y-you Joel!” You cry out, your arms raking his hairy ones, his thick forearms being the only thing holding you up at this point as your nails dig into the skin, leaving small crescents on his flesh.

“You close? Can feel it, chokin’ my cock so damn hard ‘s about to pop out.”

“Yes-fuck! I’m so close please let me cum.” Begging, your eyes find his, watching as he stares not at you—but down at your cunt, watching his cock spring in and out of your hole.

He keeps his momentum on your clit, the callous on his pointer finger rubbing against you just right, you can feel your legs beginning to shake.

“Gonna give it to ya, cum with you ‘n fill her up baby, you want that?”

Joel’s as desperate as you, his movements faltering with each thrust of his hips, his cock begging to still inside of you.

“Yes, Yes!” You plead, your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as you throw your head back, the pointy surface of the wood poking at your neck.

“Tell the neighbors who’s cock yer cumming all over, make sure they know my name.”

“Joel! It’s Joel’s! I’m all yours!” You scream, your orgasm taking over your body.

The rubber band inside of your stomach snaps fast, your walls clenching down hard in his cock as the rush swirls through your body.

It’s the first orgasm you’ve had all week and your body can tell, feeling your muscles spasm at the blossoming moment.

Joel’s lips smash against you, his nose hitting yours as he swallows your cries, the soft plush feeling makes you melt as you reciprocate, your wide open mouth attempting to match his own.

His hips stall their movements, his cum releasing hot and fast in your body, his white milky liquid painting your walls.

You can feel each pulse of his shaft, his body wanting nothing more than to claim your cunt as its own as it shovels the seed into your cervix, the warm mixture sitting inside of you.

Your flushed cheeks stick to his, your exasperated bodies so hot you're sure your head is smoking from the overbearing release of ecstasy.

Joel pushes his head against yours as his eyes flutter open. Up close, his pupils are blown wide, the only color you can see is black as he stares into your own fucked our expression, a sly expression plastered on his face.

“Gotta pull out now, might sting.”

You wince as he pulls out your cunt, feeling the sticky liquid spilling out from your body as you attempt to clench down to keep it inside of you quick enough to reach for your panties—but it’s no use, the seed dripping down your thigh.

Joel goes to say something, yet his eyes squint at the next house over—your much older neighbors lights flicker on, the almost dead bulb ringing in your ears as it buzzes loudly.

“Think they heard us?” You question, jaw slacked as you stare daggers into Joel.

“Told me you couldn’t wait, if they did…thinkin’ it’s on you to explain your little situation.”

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