[F4M] 'A Hot Summer's Day'

Transcript

It's one of those hot, sticky days, when the sky and the rain are connected to my skin, and I can't tell if I'm sweating from the heat or from the air that clings to me. Everything feels like it's too far and too much. The cicadas sing in my backyard, standing on my porch, they serenade me.

The sun is only now just starting to come down, the lightning bug still sleeping. But not me. Me, I'm ready to wake up.

I pull my shirt over my head and curse my hair for how it sticks to me. I peel off my bra, my shorts, my panties, until I'm standing under the sun and in the late afternoon air in my bare skin, ready to be free. Because I'm not free yet.

I'm not just hot from the summer's day, I'm hot because it's that time of the month when I'm two weeks shy of bleeding and I just want something more. I want to get bent over the edge of the couch, toes barely touching the floor. I want your thumbs to spread me open, so you can ascertain that yes, I'm swollen, and wet, and hot, and I need you.

I want your hand in my hair to pull me into that arch, the one that tips my hips at the right angle as you slide inside, slow, careful, full. I need it. I need it now.

I turn around to head inside, heedless of peeping neighbors or high windows, and walk right into you. I don't know how long you've been standing there staring, but oh man, it's on now. Your mouth is on mine in an instant, your hands in my hair, you're asking me what the fuck am I doing, standing outside in nothing but my skin, flushed and sweaty, mouth moving against my lips.

I want you, I say. I need you right now, sugar. I need it like I need air.

There's no arguing from you. I'm hauled forward and led by the hand into our house, and just like I want it, I'm thrown over the arm of the couch, ass up, toes barely touching the ground as you grip my hair and pull me into that arch. You don't slide in, though, not right away.

Your hand, reverent, slow, runs down the wide curve of my hip, the round shape of my ass, down to touch the wet lips of my sex. I whine. You're taking too long, I gasp, but you know better.

You know what I want. Fuck me, I say anyway. Fill me up with your cum, put a baby in me, get me pregnant until I'm heavy with it.

A finger slides in and stirs inside me as I ramble, has my left leg twitch as I lean forward and spread my thighs just a little bit more. It's good. You're pushing deep and deeper, grinding your knuckles against my opening like you mean to touch the mouth of my womb in as many ways as possible before all is said and done.

One finger is now two, thrusting deep, slow, and then it's three and I'm sobbing your name. In, out, in, out, you're too goddamned patient. When I'm shaking and dripping and close to coming from just that, from just this, you pull your hand away and fuss with your shorts, you're free and exposed, I feel you hot and smooth against my opening, the hand in my hair pushes and pulls and I'm tipped forward again, toes scraping the floor, spread open and wet and aching and wanting.

There it is, the slow, insistent push of you, past my swollen lips through the clenching muscles of me, deeper, deeper, until I feel full and perfect and fuck, yes, this was what I wanted. You grunt and grind forward, finding more inches to fill, your feet planted behind mine, your legs solid, strong, rooted as you start to fuck me. I get three slow strokes before you shift your grip and slam home, I shout, you do it again and again and then you're pounding into me and I've got nothing to hold onto, balanced on the arm of the couch, gritting my teeth around the deep, perfect, resounding ache within as you pound against my cervix.

I come and it's like a rage, it tears through hard and violent and I'm left shaking in the aftermath, caught in your grip as you continue to fuck me. I try to spread my thighs wider, I want you deeper, but you've got me pinned between the couch and your hips, you tilt me forward until my face is pressed into the cushions, I claw at them, unable to move, my ass tipped up, thighs propped open, prone, unable to move or shift, all I can do is receive, receive you as you take and take and take. I'm begging, I'm sobbing, I'm a wreck, I'm crying, it feels so good, it burns and it hurts in the best way, a passionate ache that sings through my nerves.

I'm going to come again, I can feel it, it's a wave, bigger than us, bigger than our house and this hot, sticky, humid summer's day. I'm unravelling, I'm focused on nothing but your cock splitting me open, spreading me apart as you slam in over and over and over. When it's over, when I'm a boneless puddle of a woman under you on our couch, I must have passed out.

I'm warm, liquid skin fused to you, I can feel you dripping down the insides of my thighs, you're still buried inside of me, you must have passed out too. The twilight has come, a velvet darkness and dancing fireflies, through our back door I can see my clothes strewn on our porch, I hear the cicadas still call and the crickets sing, then, in the distance, thunder. The heat breaks, a soft rain-scented wind flows over us, you kiss my neck, sleepy and nearly sated, your hips shift and I groan under you, lifting my ass, pushing back, you chuckle and squeeze my hips, kiss my mouth, you move inside me again, and I moan.

Need me again, darling, you whisper as you start to push and pull again, need me to fill you up and fuck you deep. Always, I breathe, starting to quake anew, always, always, always.