Vacation All I Ever Wanted

How it starts is, you say you want to go on vacation one time and three days later he rents you a house on the beach for a month. How it's going is, someone just walked in on you sucking your boyfriend's big dick in the outdoor shower.

It's not

completely

your fault, and that's the story you're sticking to. It happens because one day you're complaining about New York City, how you've been stuck in your father's bakery without a break for months, knuckle-deep in bread dough and sweaty from the ovens, and while your sister griped back,

Well, if you'd let me run the bakery like I wanted to you wouldn't be in this situation would you?,

Jesse had simply said, "Do you like the beach?"

Which is how you found yourself on the way to Provincetown in his rusty '85 Bronco that you didn't trust to get you halfway down the street. But then you got there and you saw the dunes and the ocean and the little sandpipers scurrying across thin glass-like waves. And the cottage he rented is modern without being an eyesore, rustic enough but not primitive, full of shells and sun-bleached wood and tchotchkes. It's in a tiny one-street neighborhood bordering the beach, so the backyard is literally sand and ocean. The living room has a green velvet sectional that you want to get fucked on, and the dining room is taken up mostly by a huge wood slab table that you also want to get fucked on.

Jesse leaned in the kitchen doorway and watched you trail your fingers along the live edge of the table with a smile on his face like he knew what you were thinking. When you want to get railed on every piece of furniture in a place, he knows he's made the right choice. You sauntered up to him coyly, unfolding his arms from across his chest and resting them on your shoulders. Standing up on tiptoe, you kissed his scruffy jaw and hummed, holding him tight around the waist.

"Do you like it, baby?" he asked, and you responded by dragging him to check out the bedroom.

Two hours later, after a quick fuck and a nap, you pestered him until he got up and put on his swim trunks to frolic in the ocean with you. Well, he laid in the sand with his sunglasses on and watched you as you frolicked and picked shells for him. You dropped down in the sand, dripping salt water all over him, and placed the shells in a pattern to spell out 'LAME' on his chest.

"Yeah, yeah," he groused, then grabbed you around the waist and rolled you over on your back in the sand. He had his long blond hair swept up in a bun with a rubberband like some kind of animal, but whisps of it framed his face like some kind of angel. He was getting freckles across his shoulders in the sun. You wanted to kiss them all.

"You're getting pink," he said. "Time to go in."

You whined and he hauled you up and over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

I'm from Sicily, I don't get pink,

you argued, but he wouldn't take no for an answer, just carried you back to the cottage but not before you discovered the outdoor shower.

Solid concrete on three and a half sides with a cutout on one wall for a window, a view of the ocean, and a small entrance, the shower fit the both of you perfectly with room to spare. You stood on your toes to peer out the gap while Jesse turned on the water. The cold spray felt amazing on your back, and maybe you

were

getting a little pink on the shoulders. He yanked the rubberband from his hair and let it fall around his shoulders, wetting it under the showerhead, tilting his head back in bliss, and you simply watched him with your mouth flooding with saliva.

It wasn't until he plucked at the waistband of your swim trunks that you realized he'd taken his off at some point, left them crumpled just inside the entrance to the shower. You kicked yours over there with them and joined him under the cool water, sliding your hands all over his wet, slick body. The sun created rainbows in the spray, glistening and iridescent. You felt like you were in a dream, somewhere otherworldly, just you and Jesse alone at the end of existence.

He kissed you and you melted into his arms, wrapping yours around his neck and dragging him down to your level. He's so much bigger than you

everywhere

--he's tall and wide in the shoulders, but his waist is proportionate and trim with a soft layer of fat over his abs. He looks

good

, looks like he works with his hands and his body. He kind of gives off construction worker vibes which, you figure, isn't that far off from reality. He would look good in an OSHA-compliant safety vest.

"What are you thinking about?" he murmured against your cheek, and you laughed.

Nothing important,

you replied, and he said, "Good," and nudged your shoulders. You got the hint, going happily to your knees before him. He stroked his big hands through your wet hair, tugging just slightly to get you to look up at him.

"You gonna be good for me?" he asked, and you nodded quickly, letting your tongue loll from your mouth. "My sweet boy," he murmured, smiling, touching your face reverently. "I can't believe I get to have you like this," he said, and he's been doing that lately--expressing moronic disbelief that you're with him like you would actually choose to be anywhere else.

You pinched him on the thigh in retaliation and he just chuckled, stroking his rough thumb against the delicate skin under your eye, bringing it down to touch the corner of your mouth. You opened up and he pressed down on your tongue, tasting faintly like salt but mostly like cool, clear water, and you closed your mouth and sucked.

He groaned your name like he was biting off a piece of meat, then took his thumb from your mouth, leaned down, and kissed you hard, cradling your face in his hands. You grabbed his wrists in an attempt to keep him there licking into your mouth, but he pulled away and fisted his dick instead, giving it a few friendly strokes.

"You want this, sweetheart?" he asked, and you dug your bitten fingernails into his hips and nodded, humming,

Mm-hm

. You could feel yourself dripping, and you knew it wasn't just the water sluicing from your thighs--you were soaking wet for him, his rough voice as he asked you questions, his gentle hands in your hair, his hot body glistening with water in the sunlight. You wanted to reach down and sink two fingers into your hole, just to take the edge off, but you knew he wouldn't allow it--if you have fingers in you, they're his and no one else's, not even your own. His dominant animal side turns you on, you'll admit it. That's what happens when you date a werewolf, you suppose.

"Come get a treat, puppy," he said, grinning down at you, holding his dick steady so you could sink your mouth around its length with no hands. He filled your throat because of

course

you're an overachiever who deepthroats immediately, but it got him groaning and gasping, "Holy shit," so it was worth the effort.

And it's an

effort

--his dick is half as long as your forearm and almost as thick around as a Coke can, and he loves to hear it slap against your tongue covered in spit. He makes you choke on it, makes you grind your hips in his lap, makes you throw your ass back until the bed screeches across the floor. And you can't get enough, want him filling all your holes at once but will have to suffice with one at a time until you can barely walk. It's the little things.

Tired of him holding his own cock, you batted his hand away and grabbed on with both of yours, twisting and sliding your palms up and down, teasing the head with your clever tongue. It was slick from spit and your hands glided easily over his girth, literally wringing the groans from him.

"

Fuck

, your mouth," he ground out between his clenched teeth. "Your fucking

hands

,

Christ

, you're amazing, baby."

You preened under his praise, diving back in and sucking, drooling all over his cock like a little whore. You love being that for him, you've found, love playing into your size difference, the fundamental contrasts between the two of you. On sight, he's a man's man, straight-passing and everything. You, on the other hand, have a slender frame and a floppy haircut, delicate hands and a soft face. There's something feminine about you in a way that unnerves people for reasons they don't want to articulate. You like that you're ambiguous, however, that strangers can't quite figure you out. Jesse is a clear and present Straight Man until he's most definitely not.

Get him in a room with you and he's a horny, love-sick mess--singing badly to disco on Sunday mornings, dancing in the living room in his boxers, making fried eggs and toast and kissing you with coffee breath. You're giving him sloppy head now, but sometimes you read poems to him in bed as golden hour sunlight stripes its way into your bedroom through the blinds. Sometimes you get high and talk about existence and the universe for hours. Always he holds your hand on the subway and doesn't care who sees it.

"I'm close, puppy," he muttered, tightening his grip on your hair. He chuckled, said, "You're gonna make me come with just your mouth."

You turned your big brown eyes up in his direction, pleading for it, and popped off his dick to tell him,

Come all over my face, daddy.

He breathed out hard, but didn't manage to cover up the little "Ope," you heard in the direction of the shower entrance. Looking past Jesse's thigh, your confused brown eyes met wide, embarrassed hazel ones in a pixie-like face framed by short bangs and long waves of mousey-brown hair.

"What'sa matter?" Jesse murmured, looking down at you, then turning to see what you were looking at, and that's where you find yourself now, staring at a girl maybe a little older than you as she peers around the entrance of the shower clutching a striped towel around her dripping body. She must have just come from the ocean.

"Um," she mutters, trying to look anywhere but at Jesse's hard, heavy cock still in your hands. "Sorry, I thought this was a public shower," she says, her cheeks flushing scarlet. "I think it's part of your house, though, so I'll just go." She starts to back away, the two of you still staring at her, not knowing what to say, as she shouts, "I didn't see anything!"

"How long do you think she was standing there?" Jesse whispers, laughing low.

Long enough to hear me call you daddy,

you reply, giving his dick a sharp tug in retaliation and making him groan.

"Don't lie to me," he says, grabbing your hair again. "You like it when people know I'm your daddy."

I do not,

you complain, but you're smiling.

"You like knowing that girl is gonna go home and get off thinking about me pounding your little hole while you scream for your daddy," he says, voice dark and low, and you shiver. "There it is," he laughs, "my little exhibitionist."

I am not

, you argue, laughing.

Do you want me to make you come or should I just leave this here?

You jerk his dick again, looking up at him with a wicked grin. He growls low in his chest, then hefts you up again and over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, like it's fun for him to put you where he wants you. You protest, beating your fists against his strong back, but he just shuts off the water and carries you, naked and kicking, back to the cottage. Eventually, you go limp and just admire the upside-down view you have of his ass, giving it a few smacks for good measure.

Are you going to punish me for being a brat?

you ask, mostly joking, but then he flings you on your back on the bed, letting you bounce a little, before flipping you on your stomach and holding you down by the back of your neck.

You practically

purr

as he plunges two thick fingers inside you, stretching you out and spreading your slick on his cock, getting it wet for you. He growls, "You want this cock, pretty boy?" and you squirm your hips against the bed.

Yes,

you moan, and as soon as you say it you know what his response is going to be, almost did it on purpose to hear him say it.

"Yes,

what

?" he murmurs close to your ear.

Yes, daddy

, you reply, grinning into the bedspread. He's so predictable, and you love it.

"You're not going to be laughing anymore when I'm done with you, boy," he mutters, low and dangerous. It thrills in your stomach, sending a silvery shimmer through your gut. You try to press your thighs together but he has you spread open completely, just the way you like it, pumping his fingers in and out of you.

"You like that, puppy?" he asks, nudging his nose against your hair. You squirm and shift your hips, causing his fingers to skate against your sweet spot and reduce you to whining. "You want daddy's cock, don't you?" he says then, a smile in his voice. He wants you to beg for it.

Getting up on your knees and presenting your hole, however, is all you need to do to get him to growl and sheath his cock inside you. You breathe a contented sigh when he's almost knot-deep in you, feeling it pressing hot and insistent against your hole. He thrusts in and out with a singular purpose--get his knot inside you.

"You're gonna have to use your words for this one, honey," he says through grit teeth. "I know your body but I can't read your mind. Do you want my knot?"

Yes, daddy,

you say without hesitation, trying to relax your hole like you're not criminally tight. He pets you down your back and you open up like a blooming lotus.

"Good boy," he breathes, kissing the top of your head. You crane your neck to get at his mouth, kissing sloppy and uncoordinated but so, so in love. It breaks your heart how in love you are, an emotional oxymoron, but you feel it like a gut punch. How much he loves you.

The knot presses past your rim, slipping inside where you're hot and tight and wet. It nestles there where it fits so well, stretching your hole against its girth. He's so deep in you, pressing insistently against the sweet spot behind your pelvis, reducing you to whining and squirming against the bed sheets, tilting your hips just right to get him even deeper. He groans and noses behind your ear, snuffling into the shaggy hair at the back of your head as he holds himself over you on trembling arms.

"Baby," he murmurs, sweet against your ear. "Baby, can I come inside you?"

You nod enthusiastically, humming affirmatively because you're too blissed out for words, can barely keep your eyes open. Maybe it's the sun, maybe it's the good fucking, but you're so tired all of a sudden, exhausted deep in your bones where all you want to do is stretch out on the clean white sheets and take another nap. First, however, you need to make him come, so you squeeze your hole around his knot as tight as you can and relish in the long, deep groan he lets out, grinning as you rub your warm face against the cool sheets.

He shifts his hips and his knot presses deeper, making you gasp and moan. You can feel it when he comes, flooding you with heat, his cock twitching inside you. You love it, because he always loses his strength after he comes, finally submitting to his base instincts and laying himself out on top of you, bracketing you in with his arms and pressing his forehead against your back.

"You feel so good," he mutters, breathing hard as his heart rate settles and the one-track werewolf brain fog subsides. "Always so good for me."

You preen at the praise, and maybe start to drift off a little as he squishes you into the mattress with his big, solid body. Eventually, he will roll the two of you over on your sides as the knot recedes and his soft cock slips from your worn out hole. He'll pet you there, between your legs where you're wet and sore, where his cum drips out onto your thigh, and he'll hum and murmur praise in your ear and kiss your shoulder and your cheek as he plays with you, which you really know is him checking for damage. He never finds any, though, because you trust him to be gentle even when he's fucking your brains out. Even when he's rough and throws you around and pounds you from behind, he's careful.

The sun spills through the half open blinds like golden egg yolk, striping you both with warmth and fading light. You could rouse him soon, nudge him with your elbow and drag him out to watch the sunset, but he's started snoring softly, his arm draped around your belly, and you can't bear to wake him now. Not when he's been so good, so gentle and attentive and patient and

fucking sexy

. You want to let him sleep, are drifting there yourself, so you close your eyes, loop your fingers easily around his, and fall into a dreamless, blissful sleep.