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"That’s it," he says, but his voice seems like it’s coming at me from the other side of the Universe. Right now I’m in a world of my own, mentally preparing
to launch myself into outer space.
I close my eyes as my lips touch the rim of the glass, Aidan’s raw saltiness hitting me at once. Slowly raising the glass, I part my lips and let his cum flow into my mouth; his semen goes over my tongue, thick and warm, and my skin prickles as I feel it coating the inside of my mouth. I lower the glass then, savoring his juices with my eyes closed. Without opening them back up, I just swallow, that saltiness making its way down my throat and setting fire to my brain.
When I accepted the opportunity to collaborate with Aidan on a novel, I knew that it was very possible that we might end up fucking. I mean, I was single and he oozed sex—a match made in heaven, right? I just never thought that he’d take my hand and walk me straight into the badlands of pleasure. And let me tell you, these badlands are really, really bad. To the bone.
When I open my eyes, I look at Aidan, not knowing what to expect. But he just smiles, the soft creases around his eyes telling me that he’s enjoying every second of the show. And, hell, so am I. Smiling back at him, I raise the glass once more and take it to my mouth, but this time, instead of just pouring his cum into my mouth, I trace the rim of the glass with my tongue, licking it dry without taking my eyes off of Aidan’s. I can feel electric sparks flying between both of our bodies, the tension building around us.
"Seems like you’re enjoying it … At least for someone who hesitated so much," he teases me, but I just grin at his words. He’s right; I’m enjoying this, but not just because of the physical aspect of it. As silly as it may sound, there’s a spiritual side to all this, as if, right now, what I’m doing is a rite of passage.
"I guess I’m becoming a different woman," I purr, immediately taking my tongue back to the clear surface of the glass. I let it climb over the edge and dip it into the pool of white cum there. Scooping up a bit, I take it inside my mouth and swallow again, Aidan’s unblinking eyes following everything that I do.
He’s turning me into some kind of sex-crazed woman, and I don’t know how to stop it. Not that I care; I don’t want to stop. The moment the glass touched my lips I realized there’s no going back. And, again, I’m not just talking about drinking his cum. No, it goes way deeper than that. Somehow, Aidan’s forcing me to explore myself, to test my boundaries and discover who I really am… Sure, I know I’m sounding very new-agey right now, especially if you take into account that I’m drinking cum as if it were a cocktail, but stick with me.
"You’re changing," he tells me, "and I think I like what you’re changing into. I like this new Abby," he continues, lowering his voice as his hungry eyes seem to devour me.
"This new Abby feels the same about you," I say, raising the glass and throwing my head back; turning my wrist, I start pouring all of his cum into my face, and it just streams down my lips and onto my neck, heavy white lines making their way over my body.
Taking the glass out of my hands, Aidan closes in on me, both his hands on my hips, and I flash him a bright smile; one full of cum, sin, and desire. With his body pressed against mine, I feel his cock twitching, his hunger making it hard once again.
I look straight into his eyes, that dizzy smile never leaving my face, and I go straight to his cock, wrapping my fingers around it. Moving my hand back and forth, I start stroking him gently as I feel his shaft growing and growing under my fingers.
Running my tongue between my lips, I tighten up the pressure of my fingers on his hard cock. "Don’t tell me you still want more…" I purr, the semen sticking to my lips as I speak.
"More? We haven’t done anything…" he whispers back at me, his glazed eyes never leaving my lips.
"Then it’s time we start," I purr, my eyelids drooping as I lean into him. I press my cum-coated lips on his, and a shiver goes up my spine as I feel my pussy becoming as wet as it has ever been.
"Yes, it’s time," he whispers, pausing our kiss just so that he can look into my eyes and run one hand through my hair. We just look into each other in complete silence, the sound of both our hearts beating drowning everything else.
By the time we kiss again, it’s as if both our minds and bodies have fused into one. More than making me a better writer, Aidan’s making me a better woman.
"Alright, I have a lot to learn about sex before we can write Big Dick," I say to Aidan and he raises his eyes. This is the first time he’s hearing the title I think.
"Make me yours," I whisper, and he just smiles.
"You’re already mine," is his response.
Aidan
"Please, follow me to the Gattinara," the same waiter from our last visit flashes us a smile and then, turning on his heels, leads the way to Del Posto’s private room. Abby enjoyed it so much the last time we were here, that it seemed the obvious choice for us to come back and have dinner with CJ and Cheryl.
Sure, I had to call in another favor, but that only got me the reservation this time. I’m paying for this out of my pocket, and I know that splurging on a dinner isn’t exactly the wisest financial decision for me right now. But what the hell, I know that coming here will make Abby happy, and that’s enough. No, I’m not turning into a fucking pansy—can’t a guy do something nice without being judged?
Besides, dinner seems like a perfect way to unwind; it’s been a week since Abby spent the night at my place and, fuck, what a week. Between the writing and all the sex, I barely have enough time to breathe.
And yes, I’m not being fucking facetious. There is a lot of fucking.
And a lot of fucking writing.
Come to think of it, being just a model is definitely easy—all I have to do is stand there, shirtless, and let others do the work. Most of the time.
Writing is a whole new ballgame, though. When you stare at an empty white page, all it does is stare back at you. No wonder most of the writing legends were raging fucking alcoholics.
Abby is a natural, though. She faces her laptop with a kind of steely-eyed determination, and all it takes is a deep breath for her to start banging at the keyboard. And I think that, part of it, is because of the sex we’ve been having. I don’t mean to brag, but it’s making a better writer out of her.
She had a lot of preconceived notions about sex and romance but, slowly, all that is being replaced with a new and much more improved world view. I mean, fuck, I wasn’t going to put down my name on a book cover if the writing wasn’t top notch, right? Besides, although the words don’t come as easily for me, I think we make a killer team. Especially because we always end up fucking whenever we finish a chapter, which means we’re always in a hurry to finish a chapter.
