“Ready?” he asked.
“Just prepare for screams.” I grinned.
I was, and still am, a dramatic rider. I believe that there’s no point in doing something if you aren’t going to do it with all of your heart. I raised my arms, I screamed bloody murder, and he loved every minute of it. We swept through the loading bay after one cycle, the operator amping the riders up before pushing the button and letting us ride again.
The vibration of the seat underneath me, the closeness of pure sex beside me, the anticipation of what was to come... I attacked him the moment the ride ended, grabbing his hand and tugging him out, the pounding between my legs reaching a fever pitch. I ran, pulling him along with me, our bodies weaving around families, couples, giant stuffed snakes and dollar games of chance.
We broke from the crowd and moved faster, our flip flops slapping against the wood boardwalk, the tinny laugh of children vaguely registering in my head. I broke right when I saw the opening and jogged down sandy steps, glancing behind me to make sure he was there. He was, his eyes bright and curious, his steps right behind mine, keeping easy pace with my frantic steps. “What are we-where are we going?” he called out. I ditched my sandals when I hit the sea of white and ran through hot sand, gripping his hand and pulling him along, under the boardwalk, past a few homeless tents and down towards the water, where the posts are thicker, the cover more enclosed, privacy at a barely-there standard. I waded into calf-high water, pulling and then pushing him against a square post, my hands frantic on his shirt, my mouth fighting the movement of clothes for another chance at that gorgeous mouth.
His hands pushed my thin tee up, over the curves of my bikini top, his firm fingers sliding the triangles of my bikini over, my br**sts spilling free, his hands cupping them and squeezing, his breath catching in my mouth. He pulled away, looking down, staring at my br**sts in his hands, his head leaning down, his hands lifting me into the heat of his mouth. His mouth was incredible, soft yet firm, pliable against my delicate skin, his fingers’ brush against my ni**les soft and sweet. I could feel him, hard against my thigh, and I reached back, digging into my pocket for what I always keep there – just in case. Just in case I meet a man who I can’t resist.
He started at the touch of my fingers, dipping under the nylon of his shorts, his mouth coming off of my br**sts and looking at me, surprised. “Here?” This close, I could see tints of green in his blue eyes, the color of ocean water, glittering brilliantly against the brown sand of his skin.
“Yes, here. I need you.” I met his eyes confidently as I said the words, my hands already sealing the deal, pulling him out *oh my god HARD* and sliding protection over him with one smooth motion. His eyes darkened, intensity stealing over them, and he turned us, trading places, pushing my back against the hard wet span of wood, his hands lowering, gripping the back of my legs and sliding up, pushing my skirt higher, his hands gripping the meat of my ass and lifting.
Then I was in the air, his pelvis underneath me, supporting me against the post, and his fingers were skimming the line of my bikini bottoms, traveling up the curve of my hip until he reached the tie, yanking quickly, his hand moving back down once the material of my suit is gone. His mouth left mine, a gasp in his tone as his fingers pushed inside, one digit and then two. “Jesus. Are you sure?”
A stupid question as I hung before him, my br**sts exposed, legs wrapped around his waist, my need dripping a path for his cock. “Give it to me,” I breathed. “Hard.”
He didn’t ask again, didn’t do anything but prop me hard against the post, used his fingers to position himself at my entrance, and then he f**ked. Quick fast strokes, his breath hard against my neck, his hands digging into the flesh of my ass, pulling and gripping the skin as he made his mark on my body. His f**ks were wild, out of control, and I moaned against his neck, loving the fervor of his movements.
When I came, I cried out, his mouth quickly moving to mine, muffling the sound, as my body shook around his, my legs squeezing as intensity shook my body. It was too much, too great, the heat of my orgasm and clench of my sex, and I felt him as he came, the twitch and raw emotion that flowed through him, his breath gasping as he grunted, slowing his f**ks and giving me a few last, final, pushes.
“Oh my god,” he whispered against my neck, his c**k softening inside of me. “Oh my god. I think I’m in love with you.”
He wasn’t in love. Not yet. He was just surprised, that a girl with perfect teeth, and a bred-in-the-Valley smile, would f**k a stranger under the pier in Santa Monica. And I thought, as I dropped to my knees in the water and peeled off the condom, taking him into my mouth and sucking cum off his cock, that I would never see him again. That it would be that one, f**kable moment, and nothing else. But here we are, two years later and incredibly in love.
That’s right. In LOVE. Yes, I am still the hoochie who just got my brains f**ked out on the weight bench. The one who has dated Stewart Brand, one of the most eligible bachelors in downtown Hollywood for the last two years. I know what you’re thinking. That dropped jaw and disgusted look on your face? I’ve seen it before. But wait. Please. Don’t judge me quite yet.
VENICE BEACH, CA
I am barefoot on the couch when Paul gets home, the door slamming open and shaking the framed ribbon that was his first ever surfing prize. I slide the headphones off my head, rising to my feet. “Hey lover,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Hey beautiful. How was life in the other half?”
“Bearable,” I pull him tightly to me for a kiss. “I need you.”
He welcomes me back with a kitchen f**k, my ass bare on the counter, legs wrapped tight around his waist. His mouth plays with my neck as he f**ks, his pace smooth and unhurried, as if we have all of the time in the world. And, in a way, we do. Nothing to do today, no appointments or places to be. He whispers dirty things as his hands slide around and beneath me, gripping my ass and pulling me into his strokes. I come once, my legs tightening around him, my walls constricting and squeezing, his speed increasing enough to take me over the edge and gently back down. Then we move, his arms carrying me to the bed, his c**k still hard and firm inside of me, and he lays me down. There, on our worn sheets, he rolls me onto my side, and takes me to orgasm another two times, finishing with a groan.
We lay entwined in each others arms, the open window providing a strong breeze of salt and sand, washing over our damp skin. He pulls me closer, pressing a soft kiss on my neck. “I love you Madd.”