You and I - Part 4

Info midori
06 Jul. '17

When Marcus and I meet, it’s never in public. It’s always his place when his housemates are out, or my place when Craig’s out. Sometimes we check into a hotel, or a motel or an Airbnb under a fake profile. It’s always somewhere private.

The clock outside strikes the hour. Our shirts lie in a tangle on the floor. My bra joins them. His breath is on my neck now, and I’m not sure why we keep this to ourselves. It’s not like we know the same people, not like we’re attached to anyone else. His right hand moves to my breast and his dick presses into me. I lift my leg and grind against him. I’m thinking it’s not like we need to hide. Maybe it’s the thrill of keeping a secret.

He creeps into my panties. I always like this part. The first touch. The one that opens the door. This time his fingertips are cold and he lightly taps my clit. It makes me laugh, softly, into his ear. It’s better this way, I decide. If no one knows about us, we’re not accountable to anyone. No one can ask how it’s going, or if we’re still together.

I unzip his pants. He sucks in air as my right hand closes around his cock. He pinches my nipple. To get me back, I know, for catching him off-guard. We’re not even really together. We’re too different; nothing in common but sex. Warm fucking, intoxicating sex. He unbuttons my jeans completely and pulls what I’m wearing down around my knees. He slaps my ass and rolls me over a mountain of pillows.

Then he’s on top of me. His body is hot on my bare butt and the back of my thighs. In the corner of my eye, I see him grab a scarf off the bedside table.

“That’s not mine,” I murmur. It must belong to the people whose bed we’re borrowing.

“They won’t notice,” he says. He leans down and nibbles my earlobe. I buck under him. He chuckles and drags the fabric across my back. “So, what do you think?”

His fingers slide along my pussy, tracing a long line from front to back. I’m thinking I wouldn’t be enjoying this right now if I’d run into you today. The air’s been awkward at home lately. But here, it’s  so comfortable. So wet. So teased by fingers playing everywhere but inside me.

“Well?” he asks again.

“Have you done anything like this before?” I don’t usually ask him questions like that, because I don’t care. I wouldn’t care now, except I don’t want to be replacing a stranger’s scarf if he fucks this up. It’s bad enough that we’re about to fuck in their bed. It’s bad enough that it turns me on.

“Once or twice. I know how to tie it properly. It won’t hurt.” He grins. “Unless you want it to.”

I look at him over my shoulder. But all I see is his cock, poking out at eye level over the top of his briefs. I bob towards it for a bite, but he pulls away and chuckles.

He tips my chin. “Maybe later.”

“All right, then. I’m game.”

The clock outside strikes the hour. I hold my wrists out and he ties them to the bed frame. Tightly, but it doesn’t hurt. I fuss anyway and he slaps my ass again. He pulls my jeans and panties down a little further and kneels on them so I can’t move. What must I look like, stuck facedown and nearly naked on a floral bedspread with my butt in the air and him shuffling the rest of his clothes off behind me.

I’m thinking I like the privacy. I like that no one knows we’re hooking up, that he’s bigger than me, that this could be dangerous. And yet, it’s not. He’s brushing his fingers over my skin now and pulling my clothes off too. I’m thinking it’s not a shame at all that we only have this in common, because he reads my body like a book and it feels so fucking good. He nudges my legs apart and brings his face down between them.

Then his tongue is on me, flicking and dabbing, everywhere except for where I want it. He’s taking his time. We have so much of it tonight. I’m not coming home. I know you’ll be there and I don’t want to deal.

At last, he reaches the right places, firm and rhythmic. I moan. Something rises in me, then descends again as he pulls away.

“Mm, not yet,” he says.

I turn to glare at him, but he holds my hips down and slides two fingers into me. I catch a glimpse of his other hand around his cock, stroking slowly while he’s kneeling over my body.

“You’re wet as hell.”

“You noticed,” I manage between breaths, between the drawn-out push and pull of his fingers inside me.

“Shall I fuck you now?”


“What was that?”


“I want to hear you say it. Say you want me to fuck you now.”

He thrusts harder. I’m squeezing his fingers and backing into him. I’m approaching the edge and I know he knows it. He pulls them out and slaps my ass again, leaving a cold spot where the wet parts hit.

“I’m hard as fuck for you, you know, but I won’t do it unless you ask.”

The clock outside strikes the hour. He’s holding me down with both hands now, slicing slippery lines along my pussy with the tip of his dick. A wave floods out of me and the lines get slicker. I’m ready to burst.

“Fuck me now,” I say. “I want you to fuck me now.”

He lifts me onto my knees. We kick the pillows away and I grab the brass railing at the bed head. The scarf tightens around my wrists, but I don’t care. His right arm loops around my neck, his left hand clutches my hip, and he begins to fuck me.

He’s not gentle. And after these hours, I don’t want it gentle. I want it so hard that I can think of nothing else. But even with him pounding into me, even with my cunt blazing with raw pleasure, I still see your face. It’s there in the shadows fucking on the wall, there when I shut my eyes and try to lose myself in the quaking of my own body as he stabs me over and over. I wait for the explosion that blows it all away.

But he knows I’m close and eases up. The hand at my hip rakes its nails down my stomach.

“Just a little more,” he breathes into my ear.

His dick slides in and out of me, in control, indifferent to my desperate clenching. A fingertip finds its target and begins to rub. It’s not enough to send me over, but it’s ecstasy and I’m hovering, stuck again and helpless in his grasp.

“Your name isn’t really Amy, is it?”

My eyes shoot open.


How does he know? I want to ask, but he’s rubbing faster and I can’t ignore it.

“Tell me your real name. I want to know.”

My knuckles are white and I’m torn between the panic of being discovered and the vigour at my clit. He’s under my skin and he knows it. He fucks me harder.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he says. “I could keep you here all night, you know, or just stop.”

The arm around my neck tightens and I can’t breathe. He’s fucking me still and it’s the all of everything. When he loosens up, I suck in a lungful of air. It’s so sweet, I ache.

“Don’t stop,” I say. The words barely find their way out of my mouth.

“Tell me your real name then. And I’ll make you come so hard.”

I can hear the smile in his voice. He’s getting off on this.

He’s so different to you.

“Leah,” I say. “It’s Leah.”

“All right then, Leah.”

He flips me onto my back and my legs are tangled in his arms. With a hand around my throat, he fucks me like nothing else matters. I’m pulsing under him, holding on so hard, the room falls away. He’s in the driver’s seat and I’m along for the ride, but it’s the end of the road and we’re speeding off the edge together.

When it hits, my body shatters into a million pieces. My ears muffle. My eyes go dark. For one exquisite moment, I see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing but the blood pumping in my veins.

When I come to, I see your face on the body lying beside me. It’s catching its breath and sleep isn’t far away. I curl up beside it and disappointment fills the creases left by the sex, because it’s him, not you. It’ll never be you. I’m thinking that’s the real shame.