A/N:
This is the â…– of the story. As a foreword, the entirety of this is basically a traditional linear type narrative.
Content Disclosure
: This is categorized under Romance since it explores the lives of its main characters, it's psychological approach and the themes that it delves into. However, due to the explicit, graphic and sexual elements of certain chapters, I can also categorized them based on their dominant tone. Right now, it could be subcategorized as either Erotic Couplings, Non-Consent/Reluctance or BDSM. This story also comes with an unfiltered language.
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Chapter 8
Yo, the sex is a blast!
After finding out that Mike and I were STI-free based on our agreed-upon medical results, I got the IUD I was talking about. Damn. So, when we finally got into raw sex, I took that meaty, thick, slick dick. How it rubbed inside me... It created lots of moist taps against my ass, his balls splashing when he plunged deep.
I also rode him. Moaned straight into his face as my cunt slapped on top of that hung stud--which would soon have that cock twitching and spurting its hot fill inside me. His throbbing veins would be kept buried in my equally throbbing, stretched-out pussy lips. Shit, I got horny just thinking about it. What I eventually did soon after was swipe my mother's credit card--my charity allowance for being her freeloader and Dad's caretaker--and go to a waxing salon to get my pussy pampered. Afterwards, I bought a pair of lingerie.
My plans didn't have to stop there. They had to go forward. You see, when I told Mike I was into rough sex, he was too fuckin' mid. When I told him about kinky stuff, he had to cross-examine me first.
"You sure?" That was the first thing he said when I told him I was fine with consensual non-consent--CNC--sex.
"Yeah," I pressed, enthusiasm in my eyes, hand patting his abs. "If you want to fuck me while I'm asleep, you should. Wake me up coming so hard you make me shriek."
And you know what showed on his pretty face? Like he'd seen a ghost.
He managed an exasperated sigh. "So, like, if I have morning wood, I can just shove it straight in your pussy?" He leaned further away on the couch and observed me.
Now that shit is erotic as fuck. A smile crawled onto my mouth; I licked my lips. "Why not?"
He shrugged. "Okay."
And bam! This guy didn't hesitate. The next morning, while we were fast asleep lying sideways, I thought he'd wrapped me up for a cuddle. But sometime in the middle of my deep sleep, before I even became aware of it, he spooned me for an hour. Stuffed my pussy with his big cock, and ooohmph...
How that cock was rock-hard and full...
Coming in and out like a swing, I creamed immediately; it soaked everything, making rhythmic, squishing sounds.
He kept swaying his hips behind that cock in a slow, lazy slide, as if it were a lullaby while my pussy cradled him. My husky grumbles turned into helpless moans because of it. And once he heard I was stirred awake, one arm wrapped around my breasts while the other wrapped around my waist, his hand slithering down beneath my pelvis to play with my clit.
He toyed with that clit, and my titty too--he'd cup and jiggle it, then pinch lightly enough to make it pebble-hard and perky. My moans became shallow pants. When I was about to come, I whimpered more, louder. Then I shrieked, true to what I'd requested. After the convulsions and gripping him, he kept stroking inside me.
Shit, I ended up more tired than energized upon waking up. But then his cock twitched again and blasted me with tons of hot cum that my womb could just fucking store like a bucket. As if that wasn't enough, the wetness and sliminess would eventually drip outside my cunt and soak my inner thighs all over.
Ahh... I groaned when he withdrew. It left me feeling empty, but he got up, raised my folded leg, and spread it wide open to see my gaping cunt glistening with his spill. One of his fingers then slipped in and caught the trickling white strings.
"Cumdump," he said in a low voice, stretching my cunt lips further open as he looked at them. "Isn't that what you said? Here, pet my cock. It needs some good stroking." I heard him speak, but I was too spent.
Fuck, no. I was off to sleep at seven in the morning rather than greeting him with a good morning blowjob. He, however, in his usual routine, would get ready to go about his day.
I moved in with him, 'cause 1) he had an extra-big room, 2) he seemed like such a loner in this house, and 3) I wanted a change of scenery 'cause I'd been seeing my mom 24/7 at home.
Sometimes, I liked to think of myself as productive, so I ended up going for daily walks. I'd visit Dad. I'd visit Mamita at the grocery store with Mike's dog tagging along--I called it double purpose. When Mamita got surprised I tagged the dog around, I usually told her that. I also bought Mike's supplies, which served as my excuse to Mamita to keep us chatting.
Remember that dog I once hypothetically told Dad he might shoot? Well, his name is Toddy, a husky. A big fuckin' husky with an energy I could never keep up with. Toddy the Husky also functions as a hunting dog, which therefore makes him too high-spirited. I usually fed him, but damn, that dog exceeded my daily consumption when it came to his food supplies.
My productivity also sometimes included trying to cook, badly. Apart from all these hustles, the majority of my time was spent being Mike's couch potato.
I suddenly got bored doing nothing in this mansion. So the next week, I told him I was moving out. And, as always, he had that reaction:
"What the fuck?! Katarina?" His hands flew up in the air.
"I got bored," was my candid reply. "Dad was my job before, but then Mom took over."
"You could try cooking or gardening like my mama does," said the great Michael. "What else has been bothering you?"
I looked down and scrunched my mouth. "I'm freeloading off this house's resources," I mumbled.
He braced his hands on his hips before running a hand over his face with a sigh. "What else?" he probed further.
"And I don't know what to do with my day after I wake up with a creampie."
"Katarina..." Mike exhaled, patiently enunciating my fucking name. "Isn't that what you bargained for?"
"But, you know... like..." I threw a tantrum, crying and stomping as I walked back inside the house--we were at the front door. He followed, waiting to see what shit I was pulling now. "I didn't ask to be this type of girlfriend. What else can I do except look forward to the next fuck? What am I? A gilded hoe whose main career is to have her legs open?" I wallowed.
"You're not a hoe, for whatever that's worth. You're my fucking girlfriend."
"Yeah," my voice caught. I stretched my arms out wide. "But if I were your fuck buddy or booty call, I would just come over here for that. With this," I said, gesturing around the room, "I don't know. Being your girlfriend feels like a big shoe to fill."
"Katarina..." he said again, walking over to the couch and sitting down with another sigh. "Come here," he invited, beckoning me to sit on his lap.
Hmph. I begrudgingly did so. When I sat down, he massaged my head and my cheeks. My furrowed expression relaxed. I think I like this face massage. So I shut up and enjoyed the moment of attention.
"Tell me everything that's bothering you?" he said, circling his thumb on my forehead near my hairline. Is he a secret masseuse? Do I get a free service? I like this. I really like it a lot.
"I tried cooking, visiting, feeding your only dog that I once consented to shoot, putting him out for a walk, and keeping this place in order," I began.
I really like it now that he's massaging my cheeks. It tickles.
"But I prefer being a couch potato. Get it, Michael? I know you don't have to reprimand me about independence. But you work hard; I don't want to. What can I give in return?" I whimpered. "Nothing!"
"Don't you know I prefer you being around doing nothing, freeloading off the food stocks, and greeting me with your legs spread wide open if you feel like it, over the silence this house has when you aren't around?" he scolded lightly, as if reminding me I was putting up a tantrum.
"You can find another girlfriend," I still mumbled.
"Katarina," he insisted, clicking his tongue. "It's not like we don't spend time together outside the bedroom and all we do is fuck around."
My mouth remained scrunched. Unconvinced.
But I like his face massage...
He went on, "Whatever keeps you at ease, I don't mind. It's no big deal. Those resources haven't even crossed my mind--"
See what you get from having a privileged boyfriend? Out-of-touch-with-ordinary-reality statements like these.
"--you can eat whatever you like, pick up groceries at Rosana's whenever you like, sit on the fucking couch all day and wait for my arrival. It is what it is. As long as you're here."
I still found it unconvincing.
"But what is the point of me being here that makes up for all that?" I insisted.
He stopped his massage then tilted my head. "I like you," he said, looking at me with those clear eyes. "I like how I talk with those knowing, cynical eyes. How you get what you want--which can be quite interesting since you made it clear it was me. And I like listening to your unfiltered mouth."
Really?
"Really?" I asked.
He nodded. "Yeah."
"Because it blows your cock real good?"
His mouth tightened, but he just shook his head, resigned. "No. But if you feel like doing it, why not?"