Anya was suddenly awake, her eyes open as the July sunrise poured through her windows and bathed her in its glow. She listened, but heard only the silence of an empty house. She smiled. All alone.
It had been a stressful final semester, essays and exams wiping out her social life for six months straight. She hadn't even been able to properly celebrate her 21st birthday. So when Anya had learned that her housemates were moving out the day after graduation, she was initially disappointed. The last chance of their adult lives with no responsibilities or consequences, and they were all disappearing into London, to placements and internships. Straight onto the corporate ladder.
Not Anya. She'd decided to spend the Summer doing everything she'd either missed out, or failed to get the opportunity to do, over the last three years - beginning with living alone. It had only been two weeks since the others had left the house but Anya was already worried that she might never be able to go back. No crowding in the kitchen; no waiting for the shower. She had even taken to walking around the house naked, as she was now. It felt liberating.
She'd been particularly relieved when Simon moved out. Good-looking but incredibly arrogant, she oscillated between finding him unbearable and irresistible. He'd hit on Anya a few times and she had to admit, she'd been tempted. But the idea of hooking up with someone she had to see every day was too much, so she was glad the temptation had been removed.
Anya descended the creaky stairs - never again to wake her up as one of her housemates brought someone home to have noisy sex with - and drifted into the living room. She stopped to look at her reflection in the mirror. Her straight black hair was tousled around her face, her olive skin looking clear after three months with no drugs or alcohol. "Not for long," she thought.
She admired her own breasts - full but perky, the left slightly larger than the right, both pointing up slightly when viewed sideways on. She cupped herself, squeezing a nipple between her fingers. She felt hot, and her mind wandered - imagining bringing guys back to the house, of their reaction to seeing her. It had been way too long since Anya had been fucked, and the vague fantasy was making her tingle between the thighs. "It's never too early to love yourself," she thought, falling gently into the corner of the couch.
Anya opened her legs, her left foot staying up on the leather as the right came to the floor. She reached down the side with her left hand, and found what she was looking for. Another benefit of living alone - being able to leave one of her favourite vibrators, a mini-wand, within arms' reach. She switched it on. That ugly hum - too loud to use with people around, but a small price to pay for the way it made her feel.
Anya closed her eyes and held the toy against that sensitive spot. The sensation on her clit sent signals like electricity around her body, seeming to spread over her skin. Her breathing was shallow; she started to pant.
She put her spare hand to her breasts, stroking her nipples and then squeezing as she felt the orgasm building, an almost-unbearable feeling she was going to lose control. She didn't want it to end. Drawing her climax out for as long as possible, Anya switched off the toy. She put two fingers on her clit and began to stroke herself. Even she was surprised at just how wet she was, and within a few seconds her fingers were coated.
The toy had been so noisy that the silence now seemed loud itself. Anya was hyper-aware of her own urgent breathing. But there was something else, too. A rhythmic, persistent sound. Thwick-thwick-thwick-thwick. Almost like...
Anya's eyes snapped open and the mystery sound instantly stopped. She slowly turned her head to her right, and gasped. Sitting at the other end of the couch, facing her, was Simon. He was staring at Anya's naked body, his eyes focussed between her legs. She looked down and gasped again. Simon's hand was in his lap, his fingers wrapped around the shaft of his own rock-hard cock.
"What ... what are you doing here?"
To her surprise, he looked her straight in the eye. A sly smile crept across his face.
"The same thing as you, apparently."
Anya was disarmed. She was expecting an apology and perhaps even a little shame. Instead, Simon's eyes moved down her body and back to her pussy, now covered by her open hand.
"Don't stop on my account," he said, his arm starting to move again.
Anya felt a glut of emotions. She was angry. Confused. She was also surprisingly turned on. Looking at Simon in a new light, the outline of his broad, rower's shoulders through his t-shirt was enticing. His confidence felt infectious.
"If you're going to join me," she said, "then you have to JOIN me. Take them off."
She waved her hand up and down, indicating Simon's clothes. He stood up quickly, and as he lifted his t-shirt over his head Anya got her first good look at his cock. Jutting out of his shorts, fully erect, with a slight upwards incline. She started stroking herself once more, the idea of having made Simon hard suddenly the hottest thing in the world.
His shorts came down and Anya was treated to its full glory - long enough that she could fit both hands on it, she guessed - but it was his girth that really struck her. He was thicker than any guy she'd been with - admittedly, not a huge number - and she found herself wondering whether her fingers would fit around him. She felt herself getting even wetter, her fingers sliding over her own skin.
"Better?" Simon asked.
"Much better," she replied.
He stood directly in front of her, his cock level with her eyes as he continued stroking. She fixed her gaze hungrily on him as her hand moved in circles over her clit.
Simon stepped forward and stopped stroking. He gripped the base of his dick in his fingers and held it straight, its swollen head pointing directly at Anya's face. She lifted her hand and tentatively wrapped her fingers around him, as far as she could. He felt good in her hand, smooth and hard.
"Nice try," she said, looking up at his hopeful eyes. "But this isn't about you."
Anya gently pulled Simon down, until he was kneeling on the floor with his erection resting on the sofa, just inches from Anya's wet pussy.
"As you were," she smiled, making a jerking gesture with her wrist. He began to stroke himself again while Anya watched, a wicked grin on her face.
"You got to watch, so now I get to watch."
But the sight of Simon's huge cock, pointing directly at her, was too much to bear. She wrapped her left leg around him and urged him forward, her hand guiding his cock between her legs. She stroked the tip against her clit, brushing it against her pussy lips so he could feel how wet she was.
"Not just yet..." she teased, sliding him up and down. He felt her - hot, wet. It was all Simon could do not to push her down and take control, but he let her have her way. Anya fumbled, letting him slip from her fingers. Without hesitating, he pushed himself against her.
Anya was so wet that the tip of his cock met no resistance, sliding inside her as she let out an involuntary scream of pleasure. He slowly pushed the rest of his head into her. She pressed her hands against his chest.
"Slowly. Please. It's so thick..."
As Simon gradually entered her, Anya could feel herself stretching to accommodate him. He was gently thrusting, his stiff dick sliding almost all the way out then pushing a little further in each time.
"I've never felt this full before," she sighed. Simon started to slowly fuck her.
Between her toy and her fingers, Anya had brought herself so close to coming that it wasn't long before she was on the verge again. She was grinding her hips into Simon, pulling him closer with her hands. He felt her pussy tighten around him, urging him to thrust harder.
