Third Time's the Charm

Sitting in the truck, driving around, my nipples harden as sex glitters on my mind.

Him. Doggie style. Hands on my ass. Moving freely, pounding in my tight, wet pussy. Pulls my hips closer to him and squirts in me while moaning loudly. One blow, releasing it. Second pound, still oozing in me. Third shove, and he's done, folds. Sits still with his hands clutching my hips as he waits for the sensitivity of his cock to settle down in my cunt, moving a little more in me in tune with hi slackening orgasm. Shit. So hot.

Man, I wonder if my cock would like that image as much as his pussy does. She's throbbing right now, practically screaming. Wetness is dampening my jeans.

I grab the palm of his that isn't on the wheel and kiss it, wishing he could just yank his pants off and pop into my sopping little number or that I could mount him and cum again, this time squirt all over his dick and fondling finger.

Crap. If I don't stop thinking, I'm going to slip my hand in his jeans and fondle him. Quickly, I close my brain (how helpful...not) while still holding his hand. Once my hormones have calmed down, I smile at him and kiss the back of his hand quickly, admiringly, rubbing it, thinking how big and masculine his hands are in comparison to my diminutive female ones (that's actually a bit of a hyperbole, but his hands make mine look small). My eyes snake to his wrists and up his arms to the biceps his dark blue shirt is concealing. Holding his right hand against my thigh with my left, I reach with my free hand, the one nearest the window, and impulsively lift his sleeve so I can gaze at his bulging muscles. The look so thick...I have never gotten so much pleasure from looking at a guy's arms. Without thinking, I kiss his sexy arm while shoving his fingers in my jeans, where my dripping girl waits in her lair.

A finger slides up as I start sucking on his arm. "Baby, you're so wet," he whispers as I clutch his prodding fingers.

"I know," I breathe unconsciously, my mind unable to focus on anything but the finger pushing in me even though it is not as good as the big thing in his pants.

Despite the sweet fucking my pussy is getting, I somehow manage to unzip his jeans and slip my mouth around his cock, his girl screaming louder at the sight of his naked maleness poking out of the hole in his boxers. Man. He has no idea how sexy HE is. Oh shit...my tongue dips down and licks his balls into my mouth.

Mm. I've never tried to grab his balls in my mouth while I sucked on him before. And I'm so aroused now that I want to yank my jeans off, get between his legs, and suck for the life of me. Unfortunately, he is driving, so as he unbuckles my seatbelt, I just roll on my belly, hump his hand, and suck from a lying position, moving my mouth up and down faster than he is driving, my mouth trying to hold his thick cock and huge balls in at once.

He stops the car. I wriggle off my jeans and, wet as I am, slip right on him. My teeth nibble on his neck.

"That's one sweet pussy," he moans before pressing his lips against my cheek, his slight stubble pricking my feminine flesh. I lift my lips to meet his, pushing my hungry body against his and ri-I-iding him as I flick my tongue in his mouth and rub his rugged cheek with my fingers. My left nipple pokes at his chest from beneath my shirt, nuzzling his, and as he gets his tongue sucked by my vacuum of a mouth, he lifts up my pink tube top and rubs my nipples and the soft mountains of flesh bordering them.

"Oh, yes!" he groans as his caressing fingers make my speed increase slightly. "Fuck that cock!"

So sexy he is. Man, I love this!

Leaning forward, I wrap my arms around his neck as I press my belly against his, continuing to lift and lower. Kissing his forehead and convulsing from the hands harassing my sensitive nipples (making me wetter), I murmur, "I love your face; I love your chest..." Gazing into his eyes with yearning in mine, I add, parting my lips slightly, "I love your eyes; I love your big, hard cock; I love your wet pussy..." Grinning from the way I placed my pussy in his possession, I blurt out, "I love you," without thinking.

Kissing his ear, I whisper, "Fuck me, baby. Fuck me."

He pushes me down against the seat and starts pounding me roughly, my moistness drowning his cock. I moan. "Oh, god! Fuck that little pussy! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" I groan, holding on tightly to his shoulders.

The way he looks at me makes my lips press against him. God. I want him to feel so good all over until he has lost his mind and cums so completely...I suck his lip into my mouth and moan as his chest brushes against my stimulated nipples. In and out. Sopping wetness clutching him.

"You are too hot, damn it!" I breathe, staring at his face, watching him gaze at the girl between my legs getting pounded by the boy between both of our legs. Lowering my eyes a bit, I look too and release a strangled moan from the pleasure that sight with this feeling of rapture brings me. I've never been so wet or felt so...oh god, aching for it as I have since he reopened my rust.

Then I have to ruin it (at other times) by getting sore...but I figure going through the pain will strengthen me for later times. I just hope I'm right...I don't want to have to stop quickly every time we do it.

For now, I don't want to think about anything but how hard and fast he is thrusting into my river.

"Oh, god!" he moans, grabbing my hips and pushing faster. I try to think about how good it feels for him and find myself kissing his cheeks, his chin, his nose, his lips...

"I love it when your cock penetrates me like that!" I moan, kissing his neck with fervor. "It's so sexy any way because it's your penis, but with it poking out of your boxers like that...I'm losing my mind! Damn, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" I whimper.

Ooh. Faster. Harder. Skyrocketing me into a heavy orgasm...I squirt on his cock from the soft feel of his boxers teasing my poor little clit andgasp for breath as he loses himself in my overdose of wetness...

When he finally stops, his face freezes. "Uh-oh."

"What?" I wonder, kissing his hand, curious as to what is the matter. Glancing around, I don't see a single cop car bordering us.

Pulling out of me, he sighs. That's when I notice it. Sticking my finger in my hole, I get a bit of goop and bring it to my mouth.

Pleasantly surprised (but more shocked), I whisper, "You came in me?"

He sighs. "I just...lost it. Forgot everything."

Grinning like the cat who swallowed the canary, all I can utter is, "Oh." Inside, a bird is chirping its bliss.

He cups my face in his hands and kisses me quickly but still looks worried, and words return (though I am smiling inside at his sweet gesture, I want to ease him).

"We can't take it back, but don't worry, honey. Most likely, I won't get pregnant. Only two days a month," I babble, "though sperm can live about three days at most, so if we have it on one of five days, it's possible...but, yeah, just try not to worry, okay, sweetie?"

"Okay." He almost smiles. Wish I knew how to get a big grin on his face...or how to make absolute sure he won't worry about it, but I know once I get on my period again, he will be fine.

As he zips up his jeans, I sit up and wrestle my shirt and bra on. Funny how I used to always put my pants on first but swapped when I stopped wearing pants to bed to please my roving hand. Started maybe only three or four months before he hit on me...my uncle...my favorite guy in the world...

Shifting my butt up to yank my jeans over my hips, a nice, sticky feeling licks at the tips of my thighs. "Oh my god! I can feel it slipping out of my pussy!" I gasp, aroused. "Damn! Now I want seconds of your cock! Your sperm-maker..."

"You'll get more," he promises, sipping his vodka.

"I really can't feel it when you cum in me though I wish I could, but, you know, the aftermath...it's so sexy knowing that knot of thickness in my pussy flowing out is from you. Our cum mixed together...I know it's no big deal for you, but for me, it's damn hot." It is all I can do not to shove him back down on the seat of the truck and mount him again, my boobs in his face. And I just came! I just squirted! I shouldn't be craving more at this time...but I can't get enough...

Remembering that I just came causes me to realize how winded down I am. Grabbing the box of Marlboro Lights from the dashboard, I pull my lighter out of my pocket at the same time. Opening the box, I pull out the first cigarette my fingers come in contact with. Pressing down on the lighter, I inhale the fumes until it is burning the cigarette. Quietly, I roll the window down and shiver as the lack of heat preys on my bare arms. Damn. Even if I were clad in a skirt, my legs wouldn't bother me much because they're protected down away from the window. My arms stick out like a sore thumb and seem to entice the cold.

As I sit, shivering slightly and freezing my butt off, I wish I had his jacket on right now. It is comfy, smells faintly of him, and looks like him (his style of clothing, not his face). And, really, of my own jackets, I always need at least two in order to be warm. His jacket is warm enough solo.

Sucking on the cigarette, I grin wickedly. I cannot believe I squirted! The only thing I've squirted on before his ("my") cock was my vibrator, and only once.

Flicking my gaze at him, I think to myself that it goes to show how great sex is with him. But man do I wish I were old enough to be in charge of my hormones when he doesn't feel like it...unless this is what I get for loving sex so much and would, therefore, never tire of him no matter how often we do it for how many years, I most likely will still want more because of the way I was born...

Well, duh. I've known him forever. Of course it's the best.

Honestly, sometimes I think we're like Monica and Chandler on Friends. Kinda mixed up though. I'm like Chandler in that in the back of my mind, I've wanted him for years (me, forever; Chandler would have gone for Monica if she'd wanted him after she lost all that excess weight) but didn't think he'd go for me. Both of us joke around like Chandler, but my uncle is funnier and I do it for the reason Chandler does—insecurity (and, okay, they just come to me). I'd also say I'm as bad at relationships as Chandler...and I guess I'm a little hot like Monica. Truthfully, when I started watching Fiends a couple of years ago, I say some minor similarities between my uncle's and Chandler's faces (not sure exactly what), and let's just say Chandler was my favorite friend. I couldn't get enough of him on the screen because he reminded me of the man I wanted the most...not that I told anyone that my uncle was the reason Chandler was my favorite character.

But I guess the reason we're most like Chandler and Monica is how one day we got in bed after knowing each other years and it didn't feel weird.

Perfect, more like....

And now we're the best the other had. And I know no one can be better than him because he has loved me longer than any other guy ever could...well, any other guy I'd ever take my clothes off for anyway. And I want him to be my last because I like saving the best for last...

"Bad girl," I mumble at the throbbing of his pussy. My uncle's hand moves forward, and he takes another sip of vodka.

Smiling at his hand, I wish I were better at body language, wish I could understand him better by merely observing him, but I'm scared I'll guess wrong. Therefore, I just have to make do with asking him question after question to try to figure out how his mind works, not just in bed but everyday situations.

It isn't like he bites my head off when I wonder who just called and stuff. I'm just trying to let him know I'm interested and care about his life. I just hope he knows that's why I do it and doesn't think I'm prying, but he seems to...since he never gets mad at me.

Smilign, I think hard, I adore you! so loudly that it is strange that it doesn't slip out. Then again, I don't want to say it too much, and right now, it feels like just thinking it and being overwhelmed by tender feelings for him is enough.

I smoke one last puff before allowing my cigarette to fly out the window, taking care not to burn myself again.

Dredging up how I tend to burn my flesh occasionally when trying to release a cigarette out the window causes me to recall the sore on his finger that occurred when I passed him back a cigarette one time. All of a sudden, I want to kiss his finger. That image makes me remember how he once sucked on one of my fingers for a few minutes. Pure sexual bliss/teasing.

Oh man, oh man! Now my thoughts are drifting to what we did afterwards...him carrying me with his cock still in my pussy. Me riding him on the floor. Him forgetting where we were and being kinda loud and thoroughly appealing.

Thank god we didn't get caught. That wouldn't be hot. If we get caught, we most likely won't get to do it ever again, which would be awful for me. I just like it when he is loud and sensual, like it when my pussy feels so good to him that he forgets everything.

Or maybe it was the vodka. Scowl on my lips. Whatever. I want it to have been me, so I'll just not ask him and assume I was the one who clouded his mind. Works for me. That way, if it wasn't his special girl, I'll still think it was and remain jovial.

I know and accept that vodka helps get it up, but I figure it just warms his blood and I do the rest, so I'm still doing my part. If he drank it with a guy, I figure, nothing would arouse him unless thoughts of me slip in.

Ah, women and their wish to be the only reason their man owns to get his soldier erect.

I find myself wondering for a fleeting moment if his fiancé had wanted that too but hastily push the thought away. He's mine now. Not hers. I don't need to be jealous.

Looking at him, I rub his nearest shoulder and realize that I'm not envious of his past relationships. He's with me now. That's all that matters at this moment. And he wants me, not them, so how could I possibly be green-eyed thinking about them? Affectionately, I kiss his sexy cheek and again mumble, "Mm, I love you—" without thinking. Oops! Too much, too much! He gets the freakin' point! "—Hoo," I quickly add to conceal my blemish. "I'm really thirsty and crave a freakin' Yoo-Hoo." Thanks to my hasty clip-on, yeah, actually, I could go for a Yoo-Hoo. The taste and softness can melt my drying mouth. With a sly grin, I add, "I might enjoy dropping a bit on your cock and licking it off. Or slathering your hard-on in god-knows-what and licking it off...I know, shut up, shut up," I add quickly when he says nothing.

Root Beer is typically my number one choice, but right now, with the harsh, desert-like amount of dryness settling in my mouth, not to mention, remembering how soft the drink is, I want the chocolate drink.

Because he is nice, he stops his truck at a gas station, gets out, and gets me a drink. Handing the Yoo-Hoo to me, he throws a couple of boxes of cigarettes in the middle of the long truck seat, the space between us.

"Thanks!" I utter appreciatively before he trots to the other side to get in. I know he cannot get me something every time I'm thirsty, so of course I'm grateful. If he hadn't been so generous, I wouldn't have held it against him. He tries, and that's all I need. I think he will do something for me maybe nine times out of ten that I ask, but still those times that he doesn't make me feel good inside when he manages to do something for me.

He lights a cigarette when he pulls out of the parking lot. The car in front of him is going slow. "Stupid bitch," he mutters at her.

As he drives me to the house, I drain my bottle of the rich drink.

My tongue flicks across my lips for two reasons: 1) it tastes good, and 2) I want to see if the vodka is working. He doesn't notice though, and once we enter his neighborhood, I behave.

I don't even glance at the room my grandparents sleep in, and my uncle just waves and says hi (I think...I don't turn back around, but I hear his voice behind me and his footsteps are practically at my heels). We make our way upstairs, to his bedroom. He locks the door, and I start to take off my shirt before remembering the night he said, "Put your shirt back on. Please." Cheeks heating from how stupid I can be, I flop on his bed.

Slithering under his cozy blue comforter, I watch him sit his drink down and slide next to me. He kisses my lips. Enthralled, I throw my arms around him and kiss him back with m palms on his manly chest, neck tilting back, eyes closing for a second...but looking at him is so enjoyable that I open my eyes again after only a split second. He holds me tightly and gives me my first real make-out session. "Just enjoy it," he whispers against my mouth. "Relax."

I am not used to this. I'm used to having my life raced through. I don't really know how to slow down, but I want to try...though quickies are essential at times. 

His tongue slips wetly in my parted mouth, and I suck on it, aching for him to fill me...oh, baby.

"Are you okay?" he questions, for tears are building up.

"Yeah, sorry," I blink. "Left my eyes opened too long." Closing my eyes to relax them, I push my lips gently against his then lightly caress his bottom lip with the mere tip of my tongue, giving as little pressure as possible, thinking soft like a feather.

Truth is, I want to jump his bones. I want to enjoy every moment that I can of him pounding me. I can't get enough.

But, again, I've never known what it was to make out until my brain turns to much and instinct takes over...

"Want to try some wine? Maybe that will relax you."

I snap out of it. Licking my lips and staring at him like I want him badly (and I do), I interrogate, "Um, do you have some you think I'll like?"

He reaches under his mattress and supplies me with a bottle. Grinning sheepishly, I take a sip. His fingers lightly caress my belly before reaching up to play with my boobs.

"Oh, yeah," I whisper as his special girl aches for him to fuck her roughly. "Do your girls feel good in your hands?" He nods; I want him to strip and let me play with his soldier, but I'm scared to try, afraid he will shove my hands away. I envision yanking his boxers and jeans down his hips and playing with his softie (actually, I think it is up now, but in my fantasy, it is soft), holding it in my mouth, sucking and moaning excitedly on it, licking it until it starts, slowly, to rear back and peer in my mouth for a place to cum. He doesn't shove me away once in my daydream.

"Is the wine okay?" he wonders.

"Yeah, actually, it's fine." Another sip. "Well, okay, it's pretty good." I smile, kick my jeans off, roll on his blanket, and lift my legs in the air.

Licking my thighs, he says, "You just want to get pregnant, huh?" (He told me this joke: What two things can get a girl pregnant? Her legs.)

Grinning widely at him, I chirp, "Maybe!" and lift my shirt for him to ogle his girls.

He licks closer to his special girl as I take another sip of wine. My heart is beating a little faster from the ache my pussy has for him to just ram his damn tongue in her. Then he starts lapping at me but doesn't connect his tongue with my flesh, and the yearning for him to fill me up with my cock nearly blinds me, especially when he blows a breath right in my throbbing wet hole. I barely stifle the urge to lift my butt off the bed and hump his sexy face.

I position my legs on his shoulders, and he starts tracing my pussy lips with his tongue, ignoring my wetness completely, thumbing my thigh.

I want him to plunge in me again. Dammit. The memory of his hot cum shooting in my pussy taints my mind, and I grab his head and compress his special girl into his cheek. He lifts onto his knees and starts rubbing his cock against my moist hole, and I nearly groan from the excitement of our most intimate parts touching.