forrest creature

but do you think i'm worth saving?

jack abbot who takes you to a dive bar on your third date hoping to lure you into a game of pool so he can wrap his arms around you, bend you over the pool table, guide the cue in your hands… and he does just that. three beers in and he’s got you leaning over the green felt, your hip pressing into his leg as he shows you how to knock the cue ball forward. your first turn in your little game you flick your eyes up at him, dipped at an angle where he can see right down the front of your shirt. you knock in your first shot with practiced ease, standing with a smug grin on your face.

you hadn’t needed him to show you anything. you had been fucking with him, letting him bend you over and ‘teach’ you when it was clear, at least now, that you had needed no instruction at all. a lesser man would feel insecure, wounded even, but not jack. he feels himself getting hard watching you bend over in front of him, sticking your ass out in a way that just has to be on purpose as you land shot after shot. soon after you finish your game, in which you completely smoke him, he’s got you in the back seat of his truck, spread wide for him, knuckle deep in your pussy.

“that feel good my lil’ hustler?” he murmurs against your neck and he pumps in and out of you at an aching pace, your moans and whimpers filling the car.

“mmn,” you whine, back pressed to his front, his hand shoved into your jeans as you writhe around in ecstasy, “feels so fucking good,”

“yeah?” he rasps in your ear, “pretendin’ you need me to show you how to play so your could press your ass into my cock?”

“yeah,” you whimper, titling your head back so you can look up at him, “just wanted you to touch me,”

“i’m touchin’ you now, pretty girl,” he says, voice dripping with desire. you bring your hand up to the silver curls at the base of his neck, pulling him down into a desperate, searing kiss, the sound of your pussy squelching around his fingers the only thing you can hear over the thud of your pulse in your ears.

“jack,” you moan into him before you slide your tongue past his lips, licking into every corner of his mouth, desperate to have him consume you. he groans against you as he feels your pussy flutter and spasm around his thick fingers, smiling into your kiss, knowing you’re close.

“come for me, beautiful,” he growls and you entirely fall apart against him, moaning and shaking and whimpering as your orgasm rips through you and jack swallows every sound you make. he keeps fucking you on his fingers as you come down. slowly he pulls his fingers from your swollen pussy, making you wince at the empty feeling he leaves behind. he sucks the cum off his fingers as he keeps his eyes locked on yours, you watch him with your lips parted as you try to catch your breath.

“you’re so pretty,” jack mumbles, cupping your jaw, leaning into you, placing a deliciously slow kiss on your mouth. you giggle against his lips.

“i’m glad your not mad i- uh- beat you,” you say, playing with his fingers.

“why would i be mad?” jack pulls his head back, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“no- i just- some guys don’t like when i’m better than them- I’ve just gotten mixed reactions in the past,” you look up at him with an adorable twinkle in your eye.

“well i found it incredibly sexy,” jack says, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“mm,” you hum with a smile, “i thought you might,”

“but you do realize the problem now, don’t you?” jack says, voice serious.

“what?” you say, your voice waivers with worry.

“now you gotta teach me how to be a pool shark,” jack smiles down at you as you break into a grin, pulling him down to a sweet kiss.

“i am happy to bend you over a pool table anytime,” you giggle.

“i didn’t sit through all those anatomy classes for nothing,” he grumbles, one hand holding your hip and the other keeping his dick in line with your pussy.

“that was what? like fifty years ago?”

he starts shoving himself in before replying, “very funny.”

“ah, ah! i’m—jesus—telling you, jack. it won’t work.”

“you know i have to try, at least once.”

he hasn’t let up on it ever since you told him. you can’t have an orgasm without some sort of toy. of course that simply can’t be true.

he always just assumed it was a preference. the few times you’d slept with him so far, you’d always had a vibrator ready on the nightstand.

“just—let me try, huh?”

there’s a pillow beneath your lower back, and your legs are tensed up around his hips.

“you need to relax, though, honey.”

you exhale a deep breath and nod shakily. “okay, i can try.”

“good, just listen to me. do you feel me here?”

he pushes down on your stomach, just above your pubic bone.

“sort of,” you say to be nice, appreciative of his efforts. you expect him to pull out and give up, suddenly decide you’re not worth the effort.

“okay, tilt your hips up towards the ceiling a little bit. good, hold it right there.”

he rolls his hips back and forward again, dragging against your upper wall and hitting something that makes you yelp.

you slap your hands over your mouth and stare at him with stupid, wide eyes. he ignores you, just keeps rolling his hips up into you with his hand pressing into your stomach.

“good girl, focus.”

one hand leaves your mouth to dig into the linen sheets. expensive sheets. the ones you liked in the store, that jack had to insist you buy.

the other hand stays covering your mouth to keep in all the noises you’d never made before.

“how’s that feeling?”

“pressure—there’s pressure, jack. i don’t know what—”

he shushes you, “you don’t have to do anything, just feel it. feel me taking care of you.”

he runs his big hands up and down your sides, keeping the same rhythm with his thrusts, not speeding up or going harder.

“jack, i think im gonna cum. i’m gonna—oh, jesus christ!”

you sit upwards, instinctively tensing your entire body up. jack pushes you back down with a hand on your chest that moves up to curl around your neck. no pressure, only a firm, reassuring warmth.

your stomach drops into that familiar buzz you thought you could only achieve with a toy.

“c’mon, breathe through it,” he grunts, letting himself go as you clench around him so tight he tips his head back and groans like an animal.

when all is said and done, you’re panting and glistening with a sheen of sweat.

“look at that. didn’t even have to play with her,” he says with a smirk, giving your clit a light slap.

and he’s at work, hunched over in the bathroom and trying not to whine your name while he jerks his cock at a frantic pace. his other hand braced against the wall while he grips his phone, trying not to drop it. alternating between that and sloppily typing out the dirtiest things with his chubby thumb. it takes a while for him to type what he wants — some versions of “need that little pussy so bad” “so fucking hard right now” “please send another pic baby” you ignore the typos.

he’s imagining you touching yourself too, back arching, body glistening with sweat, moaning like a whore for him. he grits his teeth and closes his eyes, imagining his cock enveloped by your drooling pussy instead of his rough hand. in reality you’re fully clothed, immersed in your newest reality tv obsession.

another message from you. he scrambles to read it, his orgasm approaching.

“can you pick up food on the way home”