She really was a Venus if there ever was one. I had been so damn surprised that she actually let me in. I figured I'd just tease her a little and then leave her to fuck her cucumber... but the rest of the gods must have been smiling on me that day.
She was short, curvy, wide hips and a huge ass, and this adorable belly that was begging to be kissed. I couldn't get her out of my head. All throughout the next few days, I kept going back to the look on her face when I'd first slid inside her, already soaked from her earlier solo play. There was no better power trip than watching a girl get off on your cock. And that first thrust? The gasp she let out and the way her eyes rolled back in her head? Yeah, was what wet dreams were made of.
One afternoon a few days after our little romp, when I'd gotten off work early, I had been sitting in my car, browsing instagram while I drank the last dregs of my frappuccino, and this hot redhead came up on my feed. Her hair reminded me of the way I'd wrapped my hand around Venus's thick curly locks and pulled her head up, and I finally caved to the temptation to go by and see her again.
Maybe she'd tell me to fuck off. Then I could stop fantasizing about all the things I wanted to do to her if she let me in again.
But she let me in again.
I tried not to be a smug sarcastic ass, because I was pretty sure that was a huge turnoff for her. But I couldn't help but smirk when she sighed, defeated by her own desire, and opened the door. She stood awkwardly off to the side in her hallway, waiting for me to take my shoes off, then started walking back towards the bedroom. I walked close behind her and put a hand on the small of her back, like I was guiding her, even though she was really leading the way. I could feel the tension between us start to build, and I was already half hard when we finally got to her room.
She started unbuttoning her shirt but I stopped her by catching her hands. "Hold on," I said, my voice betraying how excited I was. "Slow down. We're doing this my way this time."
I tried not to practically run down the hall as he followed me. Despite his snarky attitude, that cute little smug look and the quirk of his lips were enough to get me going. Like he knew what he was doing to me. And he was right. Fuck if I was going to admit it though.
He stopped me as I was unbuttoning my shirt, grabbing my wrists and then brushing my fingers with his. His voice was thick and he spoke right in my ear. "Hold on. Slow down. We're doing this my way this time."
His way? The fuck did that mean? Excitement mingled with nervousness and I felt my breath catch.
He turned me around and unbuttoned one button at a time, letting his fingers brush my skin as he did so. He was intentional, slow, deliberate. He watched my face, and then stared at my tits, and then smirked and looked me in the eye.
"What," I said, trying to sound less affected than I was.
"That bra is really hot... were you hoping I'd come by today?"
Shit. He wasn't wrong. I'd worn my black lace bra just in case he made an appearance.
"I wear this to feel sexy, for myself, thanks very much," I said, but I swallowed hard and I don't think he believed me.
"Oh. Okay," he said smugly. Yeah he definitely didn't believe me. He finished the last button on my shirt and let it fall open, and then slowly down my arms. He studied me, like he was trying to decide what to do.
Well if he didn't have any ideas I could certainly help him get started. "You gonna watch or do something about it?"
His gaze dropped to my stomach, and he stared at it, working his jaw. There was a dark look in his eyes that halfway scared me, halfway turned me on. Well, okay, mostly turned me on. He slowly sank to his knees and began to circle my belly button with his finger, his eyes roaming my tummy like it was a puzzle to figure out.
I shivered. I was horny but uncomfortable; I hated my stomach. It just wasn't hot. It hung there, a little too big, and I could never lose the fat no matter how hard I tried or what diet I used or what exercises I did. Hormones, my doctor had said. And the subtle stretch marks at the bottom didn't do much for my self esteem.
"What are you doing," I asked, the sexual tension starting to dissipate.
"I've been thinking about doing this for four days," he murmured, and he leaned forward and pressed his lips to my tummy, right under my navel.
I felt myself start to warm up as I watched him enjoy me, his eyes closing, lightly brushing his lips against my skin. He opened his eyes and trailed his fingers up and down the thin silvery stretch marks underneath, and then lower to unbutton my jeans. He began to pull them down as he kissed me, lower and lower, until his lips were right on my pubic bone. His tongue darted out, reaching lower, and missing the mark, but it was enough to tease. My breath hitched. He did it again, watching my face. This time he managed to flick his tongue against the hood of my clit.
"You gonna fuck me or not," I spat out, sounding like a desperate little whore.
"Eventually," he grinned, and stood up so he was right in front of me, his hips pressed against mine, and put his arms behind my back, bending forward so he lowered me down on the bed. My back and hips on the bed, my legs hanging off the side, he got down on his knees and finished pulling off my pants.
"Should have known you don't wear panties," he smirked, massaging my hips and thighs with his hands. I resisted the urge to squirm. My breath was coming faster now and I was a little embarrassed at how quickly he'd gotten me soaking wet.
"I'm at home alone in front of a screen all day. I'm surprised I even still wear clothes."
"You could go without clothes," he said. "Just walk around all day in that hot little bra."
I bit my lip. I'd done that for a while, but seeing my saggy tits and my tummy hanging out all the time had started to mess with my head, so I'd gone back to hiding under high-waisted jeans and men's button-downs.
He started kissing my hips, slow, sensual kisses, taking his time and letting me feel his lips and his breath on my skin. Some were light and feather, some were deeper and firmer, but god I was going to jump on him if he didn't start touching me where I wanted to be touched.
Finally, he applied the faintest pressure to the inside of my thighs, like he was trying to work them open. I may have spread my legs a little fast in response.
He chuckled. "You ready?"
I rolled my eyes and refused to look at him. "Have been for a while, hurry up for fuck's sake."
"Naw," he said, "I told you, we're doing this my way."
"And what's your way?"
"I'll show you." And slowly, painstakingly, I watched as he lowered his face down. I gasped when I felt his tongue touch the very edge of my pussy, brushing just the outside, slowly guiding it up to the top, and stopping just before he touched my clit. That bastard, I thought. He knows exactly what I want.
"For fuck's sake," I whined. "You have five minutes to get me off or I'm riding your face."
I felt him smile against me. "I don't need five minutes." Then he began slowly running his tongue against the edge of my lips.
I gasped and moaned, and tried not to writhe, but he was teasing the hell out of me. I felt myself getting wetter and wetter, and eventually either my cum or his spit began to drop down my taint and my asshole, sending a new wave of heat through my body. Five minutes be damned, I wasn't going to stop him.
Then when I least expected it, he began to kiss my lips, and slowly use his tongue to part them, slithering and flicking against me. I was squirming now, and making all kinds of absurd noises that I'm sure he was enjoying, but I didn't care, I wanted to cum so damn bad. Finally he moved closer to me, and I felt his tongue begin to brush lightly across my clit. Almost immediately I was right on the edge. I just needed him to do it a few more times, a little faster, just like that oh god. Don't stop. Fuck was I saying that out loud?
He sighed as he put his lips gently around my clit and began to suck, and I screamed as I came. A huge flood of relief and red-hot pleasure burned it's way through my body from my hairline to my toenails. He kept me there, letting me burn, sucking and flicking and rubbing his tongue against my clit until I thought I would pass out. Then I felt him slowly begin to slide a finger inside me.
"Fuck that, fuck me now!" I wailed.
"But I want to make you cum again," he said in that stupid sexy voice.
"Fine," he said, and I panted as I watched him pull off his clothes. His focus on my pussy had left him slightly soft, so he stood over me and touched himself while he watched me. I watched his cock start to come back to life. It didn't take much.
I began to pull myself back farther onto the bed, but he caught my legs and pulled me back to the edge.
"My way, remember?" He held my ankles tightly, and threw both of my legs over his shoulders, almost lifting my ass off the bed. I could feel him rubbing his cock against my pussy, teasing it.
"I am so over your teasing," I moaned.
"I don't think you are," he grinned. "You seemed to enjoy it."
"Oh my god come on," I moaned as he started rubbing his cock against my sensitive swollen clit.
"Fuck me... please?"
I pushed myself up on my hands and tried to grab at him, but he threw out a hand and pushed it against my shoulder, stopping me. I relented as I fell back on the bed.
As soon as I said it, he leaned forward, pushing all the way in with one slick, wet movement. Holy hell I nearly came right there. A slight tremor went through my whole body, like a mini orgasm but without the relief or the release I needed. He held me down against the bed, my legs up on his chest, and started fucking me hard, finding the perfect rhythm he needed to make me scream.
I lost track of time while he thrust into me, hurling me over the edge of my climax and not slowing down even after I started to come down. He was grunting and had this intense look in his eyes. I could tell when he was about to cum because he panted a few times, and moaned, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against mine, his eyes squinted shut. He stayed there for a moment, and then moaned quietly, "fuck."
I lay there, thoroughly fucked, sweating, cum dripping down my legs, with his forehead pressed against mine. His breath was hot and fast and I could smell the mint in his breath and feel the sweat between our sandwiched skin.
"Get off I can't breathe," I muttered, and turned my face away. He stood shakilly and went to my bathroom, grabbing us both damp washcloths. He wiped his forehead and let the cool washcloth rest on his chest. I wedged mine between my legs, the cold water soothing my hot lips and my sore clit.
He laid beside me on the bed as we both caught our breath. His eyes were shut, and I couldn't help but turn my head and look at him. He was nice to look at, that's for damn sure. A few inches taller than me, thin and lanky, but nice arms and the tiniest bit of definition in his abs. He was by no means an athlete, but that little bit of definition made my fingers itch to explore him. He was slightly tanned and had a vaguely tribal tattoo circling his left bicep. He had just a little bit of scruff on his chin, and a fucking treasure trail to rival a porn star's.
"Holy fuck," he mumbled. My pride wouldn't let me answer. He turned his head to look at me and I tore my eyes away from his body, looking up at my ceiling. He flipped over on his side and began to trail his fingers across my chest and stomach. I closed my eyes. It felt good but I didn't want to watch.
"I love this," he said, drawing little X's on my belly. "I've been thinking about this for days."
Suddenly my throat felt really tight and my eyes burned. I sat up, pushing his hand away, and hurried to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Why the hell did I feel so emotional right now? It was just my stomach for god's sake. It was a good thing, right? He liked my body. Why was I upset?
I took some deep breaths as I drank my water, then refilled the glass and brought it back and offered him some. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking a little concerned, but he took the water and drank half of it, and handed it back to me. I set it on the bedside table and laid back down on the bed, facing away from him, curling my legs up and hugging them a little.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. I shook my head. "Did I say something that upset you?"
I shook my head again. He waited, and curled up on the bed behind me, not touching me, but close enough that I could feel he was there. He waited. I kept waiting for a snarky comment, but there wasn't one.
"I just find it hard to believe that you like my stomach so much," I finally spat out.
"Uh... confession? I may have a bit of a kink for it."
"No really. Like... flip over, please?"
I rolled my eyes and didn't move. Sure some guys like fat girls, and lots of guys like "curvy" girls. But curvy usually translated to wide hips and breast implants, not saggy boobs and a tummy with stretch marks. I liked my body well enough and I knew I was pretty hot, but the attention he'd paid to my least favorite part of me had been disarming.
"I just... it's not my favorite part of me."
"I don't know if I could pick a favorite part of you," he said, and his voice was gentle this time. He scooted a little closer, and brushed my hair off my neck, trailing fingers down my neck, down my spine, across my tits, around my belly button, over my hips. His hand settled on my ass and he squeezed, firmly first, and then he sighed and squeezed harder. "Seriously you're like, a fucking goddess. I keep calling you Venus in my head."
"That's weird," I said.
"It can't possibly be the worst nickname you've ever had," he said,and I could sense that little bit of playfulness coming back into his voice.
I sighed and rolled over and faced him. I watched his eyes roam and explore me, and then he met my gaze.
"My boyfriend used to call me 'nugget'," I said.
He quirked an eyebrow. "That's... cute?"
"After a chicken nugget."
"Chicken nuggets are delicious. So is your pussy. So I can see the resemblance."
"It was because he thought my tummy looked like a chicken nugget."
I shrugged. I'd tried losing weight and exercising to tone up, and it had worked a little. But sometimes Kyle had slipped up and called me that. "Yeah it's not fun being compared to chunky processed food."
"Sounds like an asshole. I think you're hot as hell."
Well clearly, I thought to myself, if you came back for more. The little self-esteem boost did put me in a better mood though. "He also called me squidward."
"Now that one I understand," he grinned, and I reached out and smacked him in the chest. He laughed and then pursed his lips. "So... you two still a thing, or..."
"No, we broke up about three months ago. When everyone went to work-from-home."
"Yeah I asked him if he wanted to move in with me so we could see each other and quarantine together," I said, and sat up to drink the rest of my water. "He said it was probably better that we take a break. I'm pretty sure there were some hot chicks who moved into the place next door so..."
"Dumbass," he mumbled.
"He was kind of a dick," I shrugged. "But he was a hot dick."
"Yeah, Caitlin told me she was moving back with her folks," he sighed, and stood up, pulling on his underwear. "And they live in California. Bit of a drive, and they're like, totally locked down over there. So I didn't think anything of it. After three months of not hearing from her, a friend sent me a photo of her hanging out in a bar two states away, this hot shot guy with his hands in her back pockets. So... we're not a thing anymore either."
I winced. "Bitch."
He shrugged, then smiled. "She was a hot bitch."
I hated to admit it, but watching him pull his jeans on was kinda getting me in the mood again. I probably could have asked him to stay, but I didn't, instead watching him get dressed. I was pretty sure he knew what he was doing to me, too. Something caught his attention on the other side of my room and he walked over to it. He leaned forward and studied the knick knacks on my bookshelf.
"Old Who, or New Who?" he asked.
I fought a smile. Fucking nerd. "All Who is Who."
"Ahh..." he said. "Which is your favorite?" He picked up my porcelain TARDIS and studied it.
"That's like asking which color of M&M is my favorite. They're all chocolate, they just look different on the outside. They're all the Doctor. If you can't take me at my Sylvester McCoy, you can't have me at my David Tennant."
He laughed. "Okay, clearly that's a touchy subject." He set the TARDIS down and touched my figure of Geralt of Rivea sitting on Roach. "The books are better," he said.
"Witcher books... They're better than the games. I'll bring them over next time if you want."
"Sure," I said, not wanting to ask for a date and time. Did that make me look desperate? I stood up and took my empty water glass to the kitchen before he could small-talk me into a date.
"So..." he said suggestively. He had come out of my room and was pulling on his shoes. I stood awkwardly in the middle of my kitchen to see him out and lock the door when he left. "I'll see you around, maybe? If you want."
I pursed my lips and studied him. What did I want? I was reminded again at the insanity of the situation. I was fucking a stranger who had shown up at my door to deliver a cucumber. I didn't know his name, I didn't know anything about him other than he was probably a nerd, and he worked in a place where a lot of people went through and he could potentially give me the virus.
What the fuck did I have to lose? This thing wasn't going to kill me. Loneliness and horniness, on the other hand, might drive me to make even worse decisions.
"You know where I live," I shrugged, trying to look and sound blasé.
"You gonna tell me your name one of these days?"
Yeah if you eat my pussy like that again. "Maybe."
He cocked his head at me a little, looking at my face, and then my lips. Fuck, was he going to kiss me? But he didn't get any closer. Another little shiver went through me as I thought about his lips all over my body, teasing and tasting my skin. I think I blushed. Unfortunately the tragedy of a pale complexion is you can't hide it.
"I'll see you later then, Venus." He winked and left.
I took a slow, steadying breath as I walked forward and locked my door, and then looked through the peephole to watch him go. He sauntered casually, his hands in his pockets, looking as happy and relaxed as could be.
I went back into my room and laid on the sheets that still smelled like our sex, and attempted to distract myself with some TV. Since Doctor Who was on the brain, pulled up Netflix, and started over with Peter Capaldi.
(I'd lied. He was my favorite.)