Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
No. I don’t think so. I don’t think anyone has done what Abel is doing right now. He’s so aroused, so into it that he’s humping the bed. I can see his tight butt moving, grinding into the mattress.
The image drives me crazy. So crazy that I’m on the verge of an orgasm. Only this one is going to be big, explosive.
“Abel…” I moan high, probably sounding like the couple next door.
Then, I feel a pinch and a curse. “Fuck yeah.”
The pinch grows and I realize Abel is cramming his finger – two fingers, three – inside my wet, steaming core and that’s it. That’s when the game is over and I fall. And what a glorious fall it is. My thighs are quaking while my stomach is all taut and tight, and I’m arched toward the roof. My breasts point heavenward, while he curses into my rippling channel and I chant his name over and over. If this isn’t religion, then I don’t know what is. If this isn’t the purest thing, then I don’t want to live in this world.
I come back down to earth and feel the mattress on my sweaty back when Abel emerges. His mouth is all wet, lips shining with my arousal. He’s panting. Every breath releases a growl. His eyes are all dark now. Black and void of every emotion but lust. Kind of like the eyes of a demon. A shiver runs through me at the state he’s in right now.
He stands over me and strips his shorts off. All I can do is watch him and writhe on the bed when his dick comes into view.
Oh, sweet baby Jesus.
It’s big. I knew it would be. I knew it. But still. It’s crowned with an angry color and there’s a vein running on the underside of it. The entire shade of his cock is dusky and angry and painful-looking. Abel grips the base, pumps it up and down, then pinches the top, groaning with his head thrown back.
When he opens his eyes, he whispers, “I have to do this. Or I’ll die, Pixie.”
He falls to his knees again, and my hand goes out to touch his chest. Oh God, he’s burning up, his heart beating wildly. I soothe it with my hand, run my palm in circles, and he shudders. The hand gripping his cock begins to move, jerk up and down, rapidly, until all I see is a blur.
“You’re right in front of me and I’m so fucking sick that I can’t wait,” he pants.
Why is this so arousing? His need for me, his desperation.
I get up then and take my useless nightshirt off before lying back down. All I want is for him to come and I want to help him, maybe offer my body for his cum to land on. I press my hands where I’m needy the most, where I know he’ll love seeing them the most, like the pictures he drew and the photos he took: my still-pulsing sex and my boobs. With one hand, I cup my pussy and with the other, I palm one creamy mound. I moan at how good it feels. My breasts are so sore, all swollen and heavy and sensitive, and my core is still shooting out tiny waves of orgasm.
It’s too much for my Abel. The shameful picture I make. With one last pump of his dick, he comes. A string of curses escapes his lips as frothy cum shoots out of his shaft, splashing over my naked body: my breasts, my throat, my stomach. It’s hot and sticky, and it has a distinct musky smell.
He comes and comes until he sags, as much as he can with that hard body. He opens his eyes and looks at me. I give him a tiny smile and run my fingers along the trails of the cream he lashed on me. I want to taste it, and I do. I swirl my finger in it and pop it in my mouth. Spicy flavor explodes on my tongue and I moan, closing my eyes, feeling sleepy and satisfied.
Now I’m complete. Now I can maybe rest a little before giving myself to him.
“Fuck me, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says in awe and I have to laugh. I’m not that beautiful. It’s Abel who makes me that.
I hold my arms open and he fits himself over my body before kissing me. We kiss for a long time, languid and lazy kisses. Open-mouthed and wet. I feel like this is how people kiss on Sundays, taking their time, on a bed, not in any hurry to go to church and confess their sins. Because the kisses have already absolved them of all the sins they’ve committed. Wet kisses have baptized them all, somehow.