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I slather my fingers in the lube and bring them to her hole. The second the pads connect with her wrinkled skin, it winks at me. My breath catches. I press it again, this time firmer, slipping just the tip of my pinky inside. She whimpers, clenching around me. My cobra spits enough sticky liquid to make my panties stick to my sack. I hiss out a breath as I dive in deeper.
“Good?” I grunt out, breathing roughly as I slip my pinky free, replacing it with my thick middle finger. She whines as I work it into her, careful not to injure her already sore bottom. “Story?”
Her trembling legs shake hard enough that I worry she’s going to fall over, but she whimpers out a pained don’t stop. Taking it as my sign to hurry the hell up, I work a second finger in, gently fucking in and out of her clenching tunnel.
“I won’t stop,” I promise. “Not until it’s out.”
This is going too slow. She’s hurting, Fred. You need to help her!
“I should have given you something for the pain.” I scissor my fingers, wincing when she lets out a loud cry. “I know! I know! I’m so sorry, baby!”
“It’s fine!” she wails through panting breaths, but I don’t believe her for a second. Surely someone who’s fine wouldn’t be making so much noise.
My tongue pokes out to the side in concentration as I slip my fingers in up to my knuckles, but stop when I hit something hard and plastic. My eyes widen. Damn. It’s really in there. Not that I didn’t believe her. Of course, I did, but how does something like this happen? And where’s the asshole who left her alone and in so much pain, tied to a bed, exposed and vulnerable?
Rage washes through me, but I choke it down, focusing on my bed bug. I’ll take care of that doofus later.
I try to focus on my task of loosening her fleshy fun bridge, but every few seconds, my eyes slide to her pretty beef curtains. As I scissor my fingers, my mind begins to wonder, and I’m just weak enough a man to let it. What would she taste like? Feel like against my tongue? Sliding down my throat? Would she be as delicious as she smells? Sweet, with a hint of acidic tang, and a bite of salty sweat. Would her lady juices be sticky like egg whites, or creamy like my favorite banana protein drink?
My mouth waters and a droplet of drool makes its way down my chins.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m leaning forward and wrapping my mouth around her brown lower lips. I jolt in shock at what greets me.
Oh, fuck. She’s wet.
Is that for me? Because of me? What would turn her on like that?
“Holy shit!” Story cries. “Wh-what are you doing?”
My eyes snap open as realization pulses through me. Did I seriously just do that? I release her, my head rearing back. My hazy eyes focus, finding three fingers lodged knuckle deep into her stretchy rosebud. When did that happen?
“Fuck, baby. I’m so sorry.” I suck in a breath, my body turning to stone. Did I ruin this? “I won’t do it again. I just—” I break off, swallowing hard, her divine nectar still swishing across my tongue.
Silence fills the bathroom. I glance up at my digits in her asshole and wonder if I should continue or prepare to take her to the hospital.
“Just what?” she whispers, her fingers tightening around the towel bar in front of her.
My eyes slide to her pussy and the bright headlamp catches on the space between her hairy lips. Moisture glistens back at me, trailing all the way down her thighs, and I groan low in my throat. She’s so wet, she’s gushing.
I may not know much about sexual activities, but I know enough to recognize when a person’s aroused. I took sex-ed. Had the talk. It was given to me by the gentleman who mowed our backyard, but it was informative enough. I’d seen pornography. But more than that, I’d read books. Lots and lots of books.
Is she this wet because she’s fertile? Is there an egg in her womb, primed and ready for fertilization from a young, virile man such as myself?
A lump gets stuck in my throat at the thought and once it’s formed, I can’t get rid of it. Holy shit. I want that. Goddamn, I want it bad.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
Keep. Keep. Keep.
I need to knock her up. That’s the only way she’ll stay with me. If she's pregnant with my baby, I’ll provide for her. Marry her. Move her in. I’ll keep her pregnant until the day we die, and then, I’ll knock her up in Heaven and we’ll have little sky babies.
Do it,my brain coos. Do it now.
“Fred,” she whines. I blink back to the present. “What were you going to say?”
“I want you,” I blurt. Jesus, man. Get it together! “In the biblical sense,” I tack on, in case she can’t tell. “So damn badly.”
Story peaks down at me from between her thighs and gives me a strangled look.
