Kinky Confessions

She moaned and nodded.

“Say it.”

“I like it— when you fuck— me hard— sir.”

She was close, so I gave her hair a little tug. Then I reached between her legs and touched her hooded clit. That pushed her over the edge, and she shuddered and cried out.

When it was over she sagged in my arms. I lowered her to the counter and bent over her back as she recovered. After a moment I brushed her hair aside and kissed her earlobe. Our breathing synced as it slowed to normal, and I closed my eyes to savor the scent of her: jasmine, honey, and sex.

“Are you okay?” I said at last. “Did I hurt you? For real?”

“No. You always know what I like.”

“That’s easy. You like sex.”

“Mmm, I do.”

We relaxed in silence until my hamstrings started to protest and I had to move. I gingerly pushed myself upright before I straightened my legs and stepped back. Christy groaned when my cock slipped free, although she immediately turned and sank to her knees. She sighed with pleasure when she tasted her own juices and my leaking pre-come.

She began bobbing slowly. I was already close and didn’t last long once she put her mind to it. She tightened her lips around my shaft and held my hips as I shot what felt like a gallon of come down her throat. Then she released me and sat back.

“I’m afraid to ask,” she said after a moment, “but… what time is it?”

“A little after nine. We’d better hurry.”

“Oh my gosh, yes!”

I was tempted to say that her mother knew exactly what we were doing, but knowing something and catching us were entirely different. So we rushed through a shower, although we teased and groped as much as we scrubbed.

Then we toweled off and kissed our way to her bedroom.

“We have to stop!” She pushed me away and grabbed her watch from the nightstand. “She’ll be home any minute! Go get dressed. Quick. And pretend

like nothing happened.”

“Duh.” I grinned and moved to kiss her again.

She started to surrender before her better judgment kicked in.

“Sorry,” I said without meaning it. “I can’t resist you.”

“Try harder.”

“Speaking of harder…” I brandished my erection.

“I’ll take care of him later. Please, go get dressed. You know I can’t think straight when he’s like that.”

“All right,” I said at last, “but you owe me.”

“I owe you a million times. And I swear I’ll do anything you want.

Tonight!”

“I know. I’m just kidding.”

“You are not. Now go. Please. Before I— Ugh!” She shoved me toward the door and reminded me once again that she was a lot stronger than she looked. She didn’t stop until I backed into the hallway. Then she unceremoniously slammed the door in my face. She opened it again, but only a crack. “I love you and I’ll do naughty things, but later. Now go! Put some clothes on. Please!”

We managed to make ourselves presentable by the time Anne came home, although we couldn’t hide that we’d been up to something. Christy filled the entire kitchen with a sunshine smile, while I was more restrained but just as happy on the inside. Anne pretended not to notice, although she smiled when Christy danced and twirled around the room.

“You’re in a good mood,” she said to her.

“It’s a beautiful day!”

“Every day’s beautiful,” I said, “if you have someone to share it with.”

“I know, right!” Christy gave me a quick kiss before she danced toward the counter and a bowl of fruit. “Hello, Mr. Apples. How’re you today, Mr.

Grapes?” She spun and opened the refrigerator door. “Where are you, Mr.

Cheese? Oh, there you are!”

I grinned at her antics.

“Oh my gosh,” she said all of a sudden, “I’m starving.”

“Have you eaten?” her mother asked.

“Um… no. I overslept and then couldn’t find my sunglasses.”

It was such a bad lie that Anne actually looked at me. Her expression made it clear that alibis were now my responsibility. I tried not to look as chagrined as I felt.

She took out the frying pan as a polite way to change the subject. “I’ll make omelets,” she said to Christy. “Get the eggs while you’re in there, dear.

At least six.” She looked at her watch. “Better make it nine.”

“Ooh, good idea!” Christy said, oblivious.

I caught Anne’s eye. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, dear. You can start on lunch. There’s a picnic basket in the garage. On the top shelf next to the storage room.”

“Right. I’m on it.”

Anne had left the garage door up, and Brooke’s little green BMW turned into the driveway as I watched. I retrieved the basket and walked out to greet her. She smiled and waved and then took off her sunglasses.

I paused to admire her through the windshield. She wore her coppery hair pulled back in a ponytail, along with a white headband that matched her ruffled blouse. She opened the door and swung her legs out, and for a moment I thought she looked like a fashion model. Then she closed the door and caught her skirt.

“Oh, damn!”

I laughed and offered to help.

“No, I got it. Damn skirt.” She freed herself and turned toward me.

“Wow, you look nice.”

I was wearing a short-sleeved Polo, cotton pants, and a pair of docksides.

In other words, nothing special. “This? Just something I threw on for the beach.”