Her Teddy Bear #2 (2 page)

I moaned in a mix of pleasure and frustration.

“C'mere,” he said, and he finally guided me down, inch by inch. Because he's so long and I'm not that tall, I wasn't sure how far we could go, or what would happen when we did, but I ended up sitting comfortably on his lap, his legs supporting mine. His long, thick, hard cock was completely inside me, impaling me, but I didn't feel impaled at all.

I began to circle from the waist, riding him, feeling him slip around inside me.

“Damn,” he said, sending a thrill of pleasure through me, this one from my mind. They say the brain is the largest sex organ, and I believe it. Every time he said that word, and I knew how much he wanted me, it made me want him even more.

He tipped me up rather quickly, so he could slip his trousers all the way off. Now I was astride him, still with my back to him, with his muscular hairy legs between mine. I flexed my internal muscles and he grabbed onto my hips, rocking me back and forth on that hard, throbbing cock. Between my legs, I could see my pussy lips, hot pink and eager, and then his sac, in its cloak of dark curls. I reached down and stroked his balls, which he seemed to appreciate.

“Damn!” he said. “I'm gonna come.”

I wasn't near orgasm, not in this position, so I did something I might have been shy about before, but not with Trevor. I let my fingers roam up from his sac to my clit, and I rubbed away, exactly the way I like it for maximum efficiency, and soon my orgasm was ready to explode.

I used one hand on myself and the other for his sac, both hands getting wet and slippery from our combined moisture.

Trevor leaned forward and grabbed me around the waist. He pressed his face into my neck from behind and pulsed into me, rapidly. I felt him explode inside me, drenching my inner walls. As he moaned with pleasure near my ear, I climaxed, and my shuddering pussy squeezed his cock as the last of him spilled into me.

I melted into him, enjoying the warmth of him under me and his arms around me. We relaxed together, in the golden morning sun.

We didn't move or say anything for at least a minute, until finally, he spoke, saying, “Would you hand me my coffee?”

I giggled at this, which tightened my muscles and made his spent manhood tickle and ease out of me, which of course made him laugh, and only made the issue more noticeable.

Luckily, we had some napkins on the breakfast room table, so the next part wasn't too messy. A few minutes later, I was back in my robe and we were enjoying the rest of our coffee.

He declared that he was hungry and was going to toast up the bagels he'd scouted while making coffee. He insisted I stay where I was, relaxing, so I remained in the sunshine and watched him as he hunted through the kitchen for the bread knife, cutting board, butter, etc. He was such a big, tall man, and yet, he was also the cutest thing.

It was the perfect start to a Saturday.

My parents weren't due back to the house until Sunday afternoon, so I suggested we stay in all day,
clothing optional
. Trevor didn't seem too thrilled with that idea, and I remembered what my sister had said about him, that he was a real on-the-go-go-go kind of guy, so I pulled out the paper and started rattling off various things going on in the city.

“Farmer's market?” he said, his face showing amusement. “Don't tell me you're the farmer's-market type, with fresh herbs and knowing your chickens by name.”

“Not really, but I could be.”

He seemed to ponder this for a moment. We were standing around the tall kitchen island, and even though he had his elbows on the counter, his lower body kept moving—feet tapping, legs shifting. “I suppose I could be too,” he said. “I know how to make pesto.”

“There you go. You're halfway there. With the gorgeous kitchen in that house of yours, it would be a shame not to make pesto.”

“The kitchen wasn't my design, it was ...” The shifting feet stopped moving.

I grabbed my purse and keys. I didn't want to know about his ex-wife, nor did I want him to shut down on me, thinking I was trying to get him to talk. I said, “We should get going to that farmer's market before all the good turnips are gone.”

He smiled. “Oh, no. Not turnips. I have a very rare allergy.”

“No you don't.”

“I could. You don't know me that well,” he joked.

For the second time in as many minutes, I felt uncomfortable. “One day at a time,” I said, and I stood up on my tiptoes for a kiss.

We got to the farmer's market, and I got to know Trevor a little better, as well as strategies for crowded venues. For example, he said everyone turns right as soon as they enter a farmer's market, and they progress slowly around the circuit as a herd of slow-moving sheep. But, there are no rules saying you have to go that way, so he had us turn left and go mostly against the flow of traffic, so we were never stuck behind any slow-moving groups.

My parents usually spend two hours perusing the market, stopping to sample everything and chatting with friends and neighbors. Trevor and I “completed the circuit” in twenty-seven minutes.

We bought fresh ravioli for dinner, as well as plenty of greens, and a strawberry-rhubarb pie for dessert. He also took three phone calls.

On the way out, he took yet another call, and I wandered over to a stand with jams and jellies. The woman working there was about my height and age, and her husband (so I assumed by the wedding bands) appeared to be cut from the same cloth as Trevor, right down to the constantly-moving feet.

As I tasted a spoon full of apricot jam on a slice of rustic bread, the woman glanced over at Trevor, a few feet behind me, and said, “How long have you two been dating?”

“Not long,” I said.

She gave me a sly look. “Nice, tall one like that, you'd better hang on to him.”

I laughed and said, “I've never dated someone over five-ten!” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I'm getting neck strain staring up at him all the time.”

She rubbed her neck as well and said, “You get used to it.”

I bought some of the apricot jam and some honey as well. I wondered if she'd been complimenting my date to get me to buy more of her food, but the jam was so good, and a line was forming behind me, so I was sure she didn't need to.

Trevor reached his big hand for mine, and we started walking to the exit gate, him still on his phone. I had mixed feelings about him being on his cell, because it was discourteous to me, but I also understood he had an important job. I could take half-days of personal time whenever I wanted, and the theater office would get along fine without me, although some customers wouldn't pay their bills on time without my
friendly
harassment. Trevor, however, was the boss of a fairly large real estate development company, and he had employees, including my own sister.

I was starting to wonder if I'd be able to keep up with his on-the-go-go-go lifestyle, but then he stopped when we got back to his truck, leaned down, and gave me the nicest kiss. I wrapped my arms around him, wanting more. We'd already had terrific sex that day, but I'd missed out on kissing because of the position, and I wanted it.

I forgot all about feeling sore at him for rushing us through the farmer's market, and for taking all those phone calls, and I just kissed him.

He pulled back from me, looking sheepish. “Damn, girl, you're getting me going again.” He looked left and right to make sure nobody was watching, and adjusted himself to be more comfortable. His thick cock was smoothing out the wrinkles in his trousers with a big bulge.

I said, “I'd take care of you in the truck … but I'm not that kind of girl.”

He winked at me. “Of course not.”

Oh, but I was that kind of girl, and he knew it. I'd blown him immediately after dessert, on our first date, which really set the tone for our relationship, and that tone was … smoldering. I'd never felt so much passion, so much desire. Before Trevor, sex had been a logical progression, a
next step
in a relationship after a certain length of time. With him, it was a fire that burned out of control. I needed it. Wanted it.

He leaned in for another kiss, a smoldering hot kiss, and after a few seconds of that, I was as turned on as he felt, my pussy throbbing to match his erection.

As he reached for the door handle to let me into the truck, I said, “Where to now?” as in, his house or my house.

He helped me step up into the tall vehicle and said, “I'm taking you to my work. You don't mind, do you?”

To his office? That didn't sound very sexy at all, but I said, “Sounds good,” and we were off.

We didn't go to his office at all, but to a new townhouse development in a part of town that was getting trendy, thanks to similar projects and new shops.

“Showing off your new deal?” I asked. From what I'd heard via my sister, the sales for this one had been going well. All the buildings were up, and by the look of it, they had the trades in doing the finishing work.

After parking, Trevor reached over and grabbed my knee, gave it a squeeze, then popped the glove box open and pulled out a camera. “Long story,” he said.

“Try me.”

“I have to photograph some deficiencies in the show suite.”

“That story didn't seem so long to me.”

He gave me a wry smile. “I left out the family of raccoons.”

“Oh dear.”

He stepped out of the truck, circled around to my side, and led me to the show home over a trail of wood sheets and planks. The landscaping wasn't completed yet, so wood had been laid down where a walkway would be soon. Dozens of helium-filled balloons bobbed happily along the path, and it was a perfectly gorgeous autumn afternoon. Other couples and young families milled about, pointing at different townhouse units in the complex, and a little boy squealed about picking out his new bedroom.

“This is a nice development,” I said, and Trevor beamed at the compliment.

When we walked into the show suite, the staff jerked to attention, and it was all, “Good afternoon, Mr. MacIntyre, what can we do for you?”

Two of the agents were guys, and the one female, a blonde, kept giggling every time Trevor talked to her. I felt my face tense up as my eyes narrowed at her. She had a too-tight blouse, straining across her breasts, tons of makeup, and those long, lacquered nails.

Stay away from my man
, I thought, then I felt embarrassed for being so territorial. Trevor and I had been dating for only a week. The rush of jealousy took me by surprise, by the ferocity and how quickly it had set in. Plus, I'd never felt jealous about my other boyfriends, I guess because most of them were secretly gay and other women had more sense than I did—better
gaydar
, if you will.

Trevor was all man, and for now, he was all mine. Watching him talk to the blonde made me want to do more than slip my hand into his. I wanted to kiss him, to get my scent on him, to make him call my name as he came, orgasming deep inside me.

I fanned my face, wondering if the show suite was hot from the halogen track lights, or if it was just me. Everybody else seemed comfortable.
Just me.

The door opened, and a bunch of people came in, with kids, and a dog, too. They all wanted to go look at specific suites, and Trevor told the three agents to go ahead, as he'd be taking photos in the show suite and would keep an eye out for visitors.

They all went out the door, full of excitement and sales-speak. Trevor raised his eyebrows at me and said, “Alone at least.”

I was examining a tiny model of the development, on a big table in the middle of the space, and he ran up behind me and jokingly ground his pelvis into the back of my butt, through my denim skirt.

“You bad boy,” I said, but I spread my legs as wide as they'd go in the skirt and pressed my bum back into his growing bulge.

Huskily, he said, “Wanna see the bedroom?” He grabbed my breasts over my shirt and plundered my body with those big, warm hands.

I felt the stinging ache in my pussy instantly. He was teasing me, I knew it, but I was going to get him back.

After he pulled away from me, he led me around the show suite, showing off the appliances and gleaming finishes in the kitchen. He had his camera out, and took some reference photos relating to the deficiencies. While he wasn't paying attention, I slipped behind a closet door and pulled off my panties, then stuffed them in my purse. I was wearing a denim skirt and cute sneakers, perfectly respectable-looking, and walking around without panties on felt liberating and exciting.