Red Hot Obsessions (224 page)

“Great, let me make good use of that energy.” I said, emerging. “Just lay there while I give you sweet treats. You’ve been such a good boy.” Okay, “
bo
y” wasn’t so bad. A little weird, but not bad. I could get used to it. I stalked over, bent down and basked him in oral love with my hands traversing his curves. After sucking and licking his cock, thighs and balls clean for about five minutes, I straddled his thighs and rubbed my tits on his pecs and my wet folds on his cock.

“Oh my god, Addison. That was so amazing. Shit. You’re a virgin. Where’d you learn to do that?”

“
Was
a virgin. Was. Haha. You popped me, remember? Lest you forget....” I sat up, lifted him with my fingers and sank down on his length. I rose up and down, moaning at the yumminess of his candy.

He grabbed my hips. “Ah, you feel
so
amazing on my skin. So delicious. That sweet, sweet pussy. Condom, baby.”

“I know, just let me stay here for a few seconds and enjoy the way you feel. I just wanted to feel you in the raw. You’re all velvet. Spectacular.” I laid on top of him, my head on his chest, and we just breathed and stroked fingers through each other’s wet hair. “I told you I was working on G-spot orgasms, and in researching the right technique, I found articles on prostate massage for guys. Milking it’s called.”

“I know that. I’m just wondering how you knew how to do that.”

“Mmm, that’s how. I’m so glad you liked it and that I did it right.”

“Aahhh, I loved it. What a bad girl you are. You make a decent Mistress too.”

“Decent?!” I sat up and slugged his arm. “Hey, I fucking rock.”

He bit his sexy, smiling lip. “Yes, you do. All of the best moments of my life have been with you.”

“Good to know. See? Even if you’re not hard, there are things we can do.” I kissed his lips, then climbed off him, opened the drawer and pulled out a fresh condom. “We can be so sinfully bad.”

He looked at me through lusty slits as I shimmed back over his legs and clumsily rolled the condom on his hardness. It took me a few seconds to get it moving right. “Mmm, you are right … Not all the way down. Leave a little bit loose at the tip.”

“Okay.” When he was properly sheathed up, I lined myself up over him and took him in with a slow slide down. I dropped my head back and stuck my chest out as I situated to the feel of his length going deep. I moved up and down and straightened up and looked down on him. I placed my hands on his chest and rode him with the pace of a carousel ride. I was soon taking him in harder and faster, making sure my boobs bounced like oranges in a bag for his visual pleasure.

“Oh, baby, my sexy angel, you are so hot. Thrash me.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. Jump on me. Hard, hard, slam down on me.”

Doing the cowgirl thing that I’ve wanted to do forever, I started jumping as hard as I could in my straddle on Logan’s pelvis and swinging my arms back and forth. I eagerly took the deep, achy slams into my cervix. I moaned and screamed and continued on, even as I grabbed at him like a hungry vagabond. I squeezed and squeezed, ignoring the sensitivity that flared up in my clit. I didn’t stop until a few minutes later, when he joined me in a mind-blowing climax.

“Hot, so hot.” He grunted and rammed up into me with a hearty thrust. He clenched his jaw and his eyes fell closed. We ground together as he jizzed into the tip. We were both trembling as he yanked me down to maul my mouth.

A minute later, we broke apart and we were all breath and fluttering fingertips on sweaty skin.

I hummed and said, “It was, Sir. It doesn’t get more scorching, lengthy or beautiful than that.”

He seized a clump of my hair, turned toward me and planted a slow, sexy kiss on my cheek. “No, probably not. I love you, pretty Princess.”

I kissed him back, but I went for his gorgeous lips. “I love you, Sir. So much. Trust me. It blew all of my fantasies and ideas about my first time of the water. Thank you for claiming all of my fuckable holes for your pleasure.”

“You are most welcome. Pleasure indeed.”

“Man, you don’t even know how long I’ve wanted to ride a guy like that. You’d be shocked. I’m so bad.”

“I know you’re bad.”

“No, I’m
bad
, bad. When I was nine, I was playing outside, long after sunset. It was late, maybe 10:30 or so, I don’t know, I lost track of time. It was a gorgeous fall night, with the scent of fallen leaves tickling my nose. I love that kind of air and temp, when it’s balmy and cool at the same time, especially with that scent to go along with it. It’s so welcoming and fresh, with its whispers of winter around the corner.”

“I know what you mean. You described it perfectly. I love nights like that too. It’s the very first Christmas present.”

“Yes! Exactly. You know!” I beamed that he considered it the same thing and left a quick kiss on his cheek. “Anyway, I was creating this big gathering of rock people, a family reunion. I painted on faces and clothes and made a fancy tent out of trash bags and a lagoon pool out of a kidney bean bowl. I put together a playlist, had my radio ready to go. As I was stringing up Christmas lights, the dainty, white ones, I heard this squeaking. It was constant and rhythmic. The mystery of it formed a lump in my throat. Sweat started to bead on my forehead, and my mouth went dry. My first thought was
killer
. I remember my chest hurting and eyes burning with tears. If a killer were to spring out and slay me, I wondered how many days it would take my parents to notice. I guessed four.”

“Four? That’s crazy!”

“Nah,
four
was probably accurate, unfortunately. My nanny, Kara, was not a live-in, she left every day at 6.
She
would’ve noticed in the morning, no doubt,
if
it had been any other time, but she happened to be on a two-week vacation. So,
four
seemed about right. At that jab of truth, I stood there in utter sadness and stark terror, shaking, peering around, trying to determine the source of the pulsing squeak. Nothing leapt out of the bushes. It seemed to be coming from the right, past my property line. With my curiosity perked, I cautiously followed the noise into the neighbors’ backyard. It was coming from the house, and I gasped when I peered in a window. The lights were on, and the blinds were down but swiveled open at a slant. They may as well have been open, and I saw them in bed together. Their window was open, so I could hear every sound clearly. The squeaking stopped, three seconds after I got there. Naked Mr. Verlander launched off the bed and sat down in a straight-backed chair, then spun his giggling wife around so she was facing away from him. I’d never seen a naked dude before. He was not hot in face or body, but still mesmerizing to me anyway. She took him in hand and sank down on the whole thing, her legs spread apart over his thighs. He smacked the front of her bits, but she was so hairy, it probably cushioned the blow. She laughed at the slap. He scowled. In the moment, I thought that was a very weird reaction. I understood
later
. Then, she started bouncing. Oh my lord. Her boobs looked like bobbing melons as she slid up and down and bounced on that hunk of meat.”

“Ah, my little peeper. Even at nine, you probably got so hot and wet.”

“Oh, I did. I loved watching that hard stick disappear inside her, again and again and again. He was very well-endowed, at least twelve inches, it looked to my eyes. They looked and sounded so juicy sliding together. Hands on her waist, he jerked her down to go faster and harder. My core was clenching and my panties got damp.”

“No doubt.”

“I slid my hand over my crotch and squeezed. I should’ve run home. But I didn’t. I stayed. I kept watching the live, X-rated show, as she bounced and bounced and screamed. When they were both good and sweaty, he stayed in her but shoved her to the floor onto her knees and strove to finish her off from behind in a buck-wild fuck. Buzzy like a sparkler, I unzipped my jean shorts and tucked my fingers in. I started rubbing my button because it screamed for that. I had mashed and rolled on armrests and pillows, but this was a loud call for skin-to-skin contact. I obeyed. It was the first time I actually touched it directly for gratification. I was sticky wet. I dipped into my well to get more slickness on my fingertips, and that’s when I discovered that going inside felt good too. I embedded one, then two, then all my fingers and thumbed my clit furiously with a rocking motion.”

“My god, Addison. You do know you’re driving me wild with this story, right? Hot. Damn.”

“I’m sure, but I’m trying to tell you how I got so bad and lusty. She came hard, squealing like a piglet that got stepped on, repeatedly. It wasn’t a sexy sound exactly, but it was so unrestrained and guttural, it made me drip more. Still in his kneel, Mr. V. yanked her head up with a tight clasp on her hair, and he thrust up hard. He grunted and his lips formed a rectangle around his clenched teeth. Her sweaty hair was everywhere and plastered down in places, but her face, oh, her face was pure ecstasy, full of absolute joy. I was still rubbing my clit, and when she was forcibly straightened up like that, looking like a disaster, yet blaring of satiation,
I
came so hard too, I swear I waved around my buried digits a hundred times. Her moans and hard breaths were sweet, sweet music to me. I forgot all about my rock party. I ran back to my room, stayed up most of the night and masturbated three more times, bringing myself to climax each time.
That
was the
first
time I spied. Within the coming weeks, I saw them fuck in their heated pool, and right at the edge of it, in the hot tub, in the car, in different rooms of their house. I was obsessed with this couple. I didn’t watch TV or play with friends. I didn’t care if I missed baths or wore mismatched clothes. I ate, slept, hid and spied. But, after a while, I started itching for them to do something more, but I wasn’t sure what. I didn’t know. I couldn’t pinpoint it. I just wanted to see
more
. Here I was watching live sex as a kid, and it wasn’t enough. They did do a
little
oral exchange, which was shocking and gross to me at the time, but I wanted them to get wilder or rougher or something. I did like watching them strip and dig into each other’s clothes and all the foreplay, but even that was starting to bore me. The occasional spanking would’ve been hot. I can’t even say for sure how young I was when
spanking
started turning me on. Three or four at most. I’d squeeze my legs together if I saw a parent sternly warn their kid of what they’d be getting at home.”

“Oh, me too. My nuts were always achy and blue. I wasn’t quite
that
young. Maybe eight or nine. But I loved even hints of it like that. When I was older, I use to surf the web for all the spanking clips or stories I could find.”

“Ooo, how delightful, Logan. I love hearing about your spanko lust.”

“As much as I loved it, I did
not
like getting strapped myself, not the way my father did it, up until I was fifteen. Fifteen! Did the Verlanders ever spank?”

“Nope. But I don’t even think spankings or more oral would’ve been enough for poor Mr. Verlander.
His
face, no matter how many times he came in front of me, never ever matched hers. I knew he was missing something huge. I could tangibly feel his frustration and entrapment. Though they got busy a lot because she was an easy lay and ready at the drop of a hat, he was clearly miserable. She’d crow and tell him to stop if he crossed certain lines. Like, she stopped sex cold once when he stuck a finger up her butt. I knew at nine that I didn’t want to end up with
his
face, and that the only way for me to get
hers
would be to chase after what I
really
wanted. And what I really wanted was the
thin
g I could tell he ached to give, that something
more
that unleashed animalistic energy. I used to be like, “What the heck is your problem, lady? Bend over and spread those cheeks apart for his stupid finger. He should make you do it.
Make
you. With words alone. And spank you if you don’t.” I craved to have a guy who’d be real with me and not clamp his desires like that, and I knew with all my might, I wanted to be under said guy’s boot or across his lap. For some screwed up reason, I knew that that’s where my wholeness was. I knew so early on, that in submission—though I didn’t know that word then—I’d thrive and come alive with bright colors and stop being a nothing. I knew I’d finally be cherished and adored.” Sobs creaked out, and I covered my face and clenched my lips shut. “I was so tired of being a nothing.”

“You are not ‘
a nothing
’. And I’m so sorry you’ve felt like that.” He stroked my hair and planted sweet kisses on my face. “With or without submission, you
are
important, Addison. You matter. In three jam-packed days, you’ve become my everything. You’re my girlfriend, my lover, my princess, my friend … and my wonderful, glorious sub.”

“I know. You make me feel like I matter, Logan, like I’m real and tangible and appreciated. You give me wings and breath and roar up my flames of desire and might. I used to feel so crazy and messed up for craving spankings and roughness and the edgy world of BDSM, and I used to feel intense shame for my strong desire to bow and bend to a male with Western society telling me that it’s all wrong to want that. But I don’t feel like that fuck-up, twisted little freak anymore. I finally, finally feel like
me
, and like I can
be
me without being judged or despised. I have confidence in my submission. It is so empowering to own my sexuality and dive into it.”

“You are definitely not despised or judged, not in this bed, or these arms. I’m sorry, baby, but your parents
suck
. Maybe more than mine. I hate how they crushed my pretty angel and made her feel worthless.” He sighed and pulled my into a tighter hold. His fingers fluttered along my hot skin. “You’re not. I love you so much. You’re so good and kind-hearted and bold and precious. You fight hard to win at whatever you desire and push yourself hard, so you can leave others in your clouds of dust and laughter. I admire your guts and spunk and determination. I love your sweet, eager-to-please soul, and those eyes, so beseeching of praise and often, filled with the yummiest, dirtiest lust.”