So Chris wanted to have sex with me tonight. I knew that, and I wasn’t about to give it up to him. No way in hell was I going to give it up to him. I was going to go along with whatever silly nonsense he had planned (just because, I guess), talk my way out of spreading my legs to him, go home, and tell Sarah the whole story.
I just wasn’t ready to have sex. That’s what I told myself. But now here I am, seconds away from giving it up to a man I barely know, a man I just met at the bar, a man who I don’t even know what he does for work—he could be a serial killer for fuck’s sake, and I could be two days away from being plastered all over the news and social media: Erika London went missing two days ago and was last seen leaving The Sundown Beach with this man (insert photo of my murderer). No one in town or any of the regulars at the bar know anything about the man, and he has not been seen since Erika went missing…
But then again, I’m probably just transplanting myself into the plot of one of those mystery-thrillers I’ve been watching lately. Why do I like to watch so many shows about dead people anyway?
The truth is, Malcom—Mal—is insanely sexy, chivalrous, witty, and charming, with the body of a Greek god, and has had me hooked from the moment we met. I feel like some kind of fish that he, the master fisherman, caught from the back of his boat as he was sailing masterfully through the stormy waters where I was swimming (or drowning). Do fish drown?
His hands caress my body, and I simply give myself over to him. Do whatever you want, that’s what I want to say to him, but I can’t—it’s just too much. I feel like that would kill the moment or something.
The truth is, I just don’t know what to do right now, so thank God he does.
How old is he anyway? Obviously older than me. Older than Chris. Probably old enough that some of the girls I went to school with—or even some of the guys—would take issue with it. I can just hear them now.
He’s taking advantage of you, Erika.
He’s totally a predator.
He should be dating someone his own age.
Why isn’t he married?
Is he married? Is he cheating on his wife? You don’t even know!
Well, for at least right now, at this moment, they can all go fuck themselves. I’m insanely turned on, I know what I want, and Mal’s going to give it to me.
Mal, not Malcom.
My body is overheating as he squeezes my breasts then slides one hand down, down my stomach and between my thighs. God, I feel like I’m already about to explode. No one has ever touched me there before.
He drags the tip of his middle finger up my slit, and I realize just how wet for him I already am. My panties, lying in the corner of the room with my jeans, must be absolutely soaked.
The sensation causes me to moan. I slap a palm over my lips—I don’t know why, but I’m so shy about everything.
“Christ, you’re dripping,” Mal says, his voice low, predatorial. If I heard him speaking this way on the street or in the bar, his tone might frighten me. But here on the couch, it’s just right.
His finger reaches my clit, and the sensations inside me explode. I nearly scream as I try to keep myself together, my heart pounding within me, my blood boiling. I reach for a pillow to cover my face as he applies pressure in concentric circles. This man knows exactly what he’s doing.
“That’s it, baby,” he whispers as he lays his body on top of mine. It’s at that moment that I feel his manhood against my thigh, skin against skin, so hot and so strong, and it’s then that I realize the full reality of his size.
I look down, and my jaw drops when I see it. So big, so thick, so…everything. And Mal sees my jaw drop too.
“It’s all right, sweet thing. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“I don’t?” My voice is trembling, and there’s nothing I can do about that.
“It may look like a lot, but I know what I’m doing with it.”
This would probably be a great time to tell him that I’m a virgin. That I don’t know what I’m doing with anything I’ve got going on—or what to do even in general. But I don’t want to ruin the mood or even scare him away. Do guys even like virgins? I’ve heard conflicting responses to that question.
Some people say yes, that guys want to be the first ones to “plant their flag” so to speak, but then I’ve heard other people say that guys want a girl with a little experience to her—just a little, mind you—so that she actually knows what she’s doing and doesn’t just “lay there like a dead fish.”
So I’m in a real spot here and have no idea what to do. Thankfully, Mal does.
He keeps working my clit while I lie there, mouth agape, staring up at him so helplessly, his massive erection pressed against the heat of my inner thigh. There’s such power in his eyes. I’d do anything for this man right now. Literally anything. I don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing either.
I can feel a climax rising inside of me. All he has to do is keep doing what he’s doing, and I’m going to get there. I can see on his face that he knows that too. Yeah, you’re almost there, aren’t you, sweet thing? he asks me without saying anything. I know you are, because I’m incredible at what I do.
I nod back. Yes, you fucking are. I’m right on the edge, you incredible man.
But just before it all happens—before the fireworks launch and burst in the sky—Mal stops. He pulls his hand away, letting go of the pressure on my magic spot.
“I—what are you—?” I gasp like a little girl whose mom just took her Barbie from her. It’s like a splash of cold water directly in my face. My orgasm is still right there, though, hanging like a sword above my head, ready to drop at any moment.
But before I can even continue, Mal leans down over me with the full force of his hard, chiseled body. “Hush now, baby,” he purrs, his voice low, his eyes fixed on mine.
And then I feel it. The thick head of his manhood pressing against my entrance.
Wow, this is really happening, isn’t it?
He has no idea I’m a virgin, and if there was any time to tell him, this would be it. But still, I say nothing. I bite down on my lower lip as he presses forward with his hips and slides into me.
The sensation is like nothing I’ve felt before and impossible to describe. Pain and pleasure flow into me as he spreads me apart. I feel myself being stretched, and the urge to clamp my legs on him hits me, but I resist. No, don’t do that, you dumb bitch! He’ll hate you! I force them apart wider and reach up and grab him by those huge strong muscles below his arms—those huge back muscles, what are they called again?
Lats! They’re called lats.
His are huge and thick, just like his cock, which he’s pushing into me like I’m used to this sort of thing. And why should he think anything different? I haven’t given him any reason to.
“Jesus, you’re tight,” he groans, closing his eyes and tilting his head back toward the ceiling.
His words fill me with praise, like a brand-new puppy being taught a new trick by its owner. I’ve never had an ego before, but maybe I’m starting to grow one now. If anyone could cause me to even be the slightest bit arrogant, it would be this man. This Adonis of a man.
I move my hands from his lats to his front, using my fingertips to trace the lines of his body, from his pecs down to his sculpted abs. It’s like a private male anatomy lesson.
The feeling of his cock inside me is overwhelming. I’m still being stretched with every single thrust, but the pain is subsiding—in fact, it’s almost gone, leaving me with nothing but waves of pleasure to float on. It’s like lying on my back in the world’s most wondrous ocean while the world’s most incredible man has his way with me. Who could even dream up such a scenario?
More and more—faster and faster. He pumps me like a wild beast, lowering himself on top of me like we’ve been lovers for years.
“That’s it, sweet thing,” he growls in my ear. “Take it. Take every single inch.”
“I never thought—I didn’t think I could…” I admit.
“Are you on the pill?”
There’s no way I should let this random man come inside of me. But there’s also no way in hell I’m going to stop him either. “Yes,” I say firmly.
“Good” is his reply as his thrusts quicken. I feel his cock grow somehow larger inside me—which does not seem as though it should be possible. His strokes go deeper, causing me to cry out. And then it happens.
There’s a hot, sticky spray that unleashes inside me, coating every inch of me at once. And that’s all it takes. My orgasm that’s been hovering dangerously over me, ready to drop at a moment’s notice, viciously stabs my center. Every muscle in my body tightens at the same time. My hips buck off the couch, and I throw my legs around Mal’s waist as more of his hot semen pumps into me. He’s breeding me, I think. Who cares if I’m on birth control? That’s what nature wants to happen right now.
His groans are so hot—so sensual. Wolf. Bear. Tiger. Lion. The names of even more animals go through my mind as he takes me and stakes his claim in me, making me feel so small and defenseless.
What is going on with me tonight?
I gulp a deep breath as the grip my orgasm has on me begins to weaken, and I look up at Mal as he starts to come down too. His eyes focus delicately on me as he brushes my hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear like they do in those Hollywood romance movies, and I feel butterflies swimming around in my stomach.
“Well, that was incredible.” He smiles, looking somehow even more charming than he’s looked all night. “You’re incredible.”
“No, you are,” I giggle, pointing a flirtatious finger back at him. He just grins and gives me a boyfriend-style peck on the cheek. I can feel his cock flex inside me as he does so.
“Are you okay, Erika?” he asks.
“Of course I am!” I smile, still swept up in the post-orgasmic heat that’s encompassing my entire body. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know,” he replies, cocking his head to the side. “There’s just this look on your face…”
You should tell him. This is a good time to tell him. We both just shared something incredible, and if I don’t tell him now, he’s going to feel like I am hiding something from him—or worse yet, that I lied to him. Let’s just pray he doesn’t hear the news and decide to leave me.
“Well, Malcom–”
“Mal,” he corrects me with the sweetest smile known to man. I smile back and take a deep breath.
“Well, Mal, I…I’ve never done that before.”
Mal opens his mouth but pauses a moment. “Never done what before?”
“That,” I reply, making some kind of silly wash-the-dishes motion with my hands that encompasses the both of us. “I’m a virgin—I was a virgin. Until just now.”
