Streams and Schemes

by Rebecca Kinkade

“Look at me,” Valeria orders, reaching up and grabbing my chin.

Some sick instinct compels me to take my half-hard dick and slide it through the mix of my cum and her arousal. When the head of my cock is good and wet, I fuck it back into her with a single stroke. All that cum and her wetness goes deep into her pussy, where it belongs, I decide. Once I’ve gotten it way up inside of her, my stomach loops with a feeling I’ve never experienced before.

“You’ve been with tons of women,” I remind him. “I heard how you made them moan. The way they cried out. I heard them say your name like you were their god. It’s okay for you to use your body however you want, but I can’t?”

“Heard?” I reply, before forcing a chuckle. “I listened. All those one night stands you made scream and slam their palms against your bedroom wall. The ones you screwed into the mattress. I listened to them. Every. Single. One.”

“Let me kiss you. Touch you. Let me taste every inch of your soft skin and find every sensitive spot on your body. Let me make you come, Valeria. Let me make you forget whatever is holding you back.”

“I had fifteen minutes last night. Give me another fifteen. You have no idea what I could do with another fifteen minutes.”

“I do the same thing,” he continues, his heated gaze boring into me. “With all those women you heard—all those women I made scream and moan and act in ways they never imagined they would—I wasn’t even trying. I was thinking of you, Valeria. Imagining it was you. Wanting it to be you. And all my best shit? I’ve been saving it for you.” Lander winks, straddling the dangerous line between serious and sexy that I never knew existed. “Sorry to hear you’re not interested. If you change your mind, come over anytime. I’d love to show my neighbor some hospitality.”

It’s either that, or I’ll have to smash through the drywall separating us like the Kool-Aid man.

Valeria’s luscious thighs clamp my head so tightly, my ears are ringing, but at this point she could crush my skull and I’d be fine with it. I mean, hey—if it happens, I died doing what I love. Most people can’t say as much.

Good boy. There’s something about a woman five years younger than me calling me a good boy that has me torn between finding enough rope to wrangle the moon for her or using that same rope to bind her and prove I’m neither good nor a boy.

Leaning forward, he notches his lips and spits a dollop of his saliva into my mouth. Into my mouth.

“Mommy, you’re not going to get upset if I ate some of the cookie dough, are you?”

“If you’re bad, you’re going to get fucked when you’re asleep. When you can’t enjoy it.”

The risk of finishing inside of her. The risk of dropping a thick load of my cum in her and seeing what the fuck happens in a few weeks. For the first time in my life, the thought sends a jolt of excitement through me. My hand skims over her flat, bare stomach, fingertips tracing her bellybutton, before I lower my head and run my tongue over a pearled nipple.

“I won’t,” she promises unwaveringly. “You can do anything to me. Mount me. Use me. I don’t care. If you’re feeling it and I am too, we don’t need rules, do we? We’re breaking the rules. Together.”

I purse my lips and—without instructions—Valeria opens her mouth for me. I aim for her tongue and release, watching my spit slide down her tongue to her waiting throat before I press on her jaw and force her to close her mouth. “Swallow,” I order.

“Please,” she begs after I slide my pinky in to join my other three fingers. Her voice strains around the word. “I need it.”

“Feel that?” I question, refusing to stop moving. “Feel that inside of you? Cum everywhere, baby. I want you covered in it, inside and out.”

lackadaisically,

I do and then lick my lips, swallowing the taste of silicone while I wait for the feeling against my asshole. It doesn’t come. Instead, I feel a slick, wet sensation on that most intimate spot. When I look over my shoulder, Lander’s blue eyes dart up to meet mine before casting back down. A trail of spit breaks from his lips, and I realize: He’s spitting on my asshole.

Those sweet lips. Those adoring lips have kissed my breasts hundreds of times, making them feel so wonderful— He spits on them. Oh fuck, he spits on them.

“She’s obedient. Demure. A virgin. She never has her own money. She’s content to keep her head down and cook and clean. Her mission in life is to marry a man like her father: a breadwinner who intimidates her and everyone around him. It’s called machismo.”

I work my saliva onto my tongue and let my spit drip onto her hole, not because it needs it—she’s fucking soaked, actually—but because I like to mingle myself with her arousal. If my cum is going to be inside her, I want my spit on her clit, keeping her slick and ready.

No puedo vivir sin ti. No quiero vivir sin ti.”

A woman’s body is built to endure far more than anyone is willing to acknowledge.

the scheme of things, all of us will spend the last twenty minutes of our lives thinking about who we loved the most.