I opened my mouth. My tongue wouldn’t form words. I had so much to say. I took a bite of spaghetti. Time passed. When she stopped speaking, her eyes were wet. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were full. Full of eighteen years of what someone had taken from her. I smiled and stood. I looked away. I ran my fingers through my hair. As I carried my plate to the sink she raised her hand to her face. Wiping eighteen years of love from her eyes, she spoke, “I love you Marc.
Scott HildrethMots clés chapter-love-that-just-is
I like looking at your body,” she said.
“Thank you. I like looking at you, period,” I responded. She removed her shirt. She asked for help with her bra. We embraced. Our skins touched. I felt her heart beat against my chest. I felt my heart beating. Our heartbeats became one. One heartbeat. We became one. Time passed. I looked at my watch. 10:10. I stood. She remained on the bed, defining beauty.
“It’s getting close to eleven, baby. You should probably get up,” I said, looking for my shirt. I ran my hands through my hair.
“Stand right there,” she said. “Don’t move.” I stood. She reached to the side of the bed, and got her phone from her purse. She held it at arm’s length. “Don’t move,” she said.
“I heard you,” I responded. I stood. She took three photos. “I wish I could paint a picture of you,” I said.
“Do you paint?” she asked.
“No,” I responded, “But I wish I could. I would paint a picture of you right now, lying there without your shirt. I could stand here, Britney, and admire you for all of what is forever. You make me want to cry. But. That part of me is broken.
Mots clés chapter-love-that-just-is
Hold still baby girl. Hold still. I need you to do something for me,” he said quietly.
I opened my mouth and said, “What?” but no words came out. I tried again.
Nothing.
He smiled.
He continued to lick my hip bone. He kissed it and looked me in the eyes.
“You listening?” he asked.
As I squeezing the countertop with each hand, my arms beside my body, my hands beside my butt, I nodded.
“Fuck my tongue. I want you to fuck my mouth, do you hear me?”
I opened my mouth and squeaked. My eyes closed. I felt his tongue move from my hip to my clit. His palm slid slowly across my hip, and rested in the depression between my hip and my pussy. His thumb was positioned on the skin above my clit, and pushed upward, exposing my clit totally. As his tongue met my clit, I squirmed.
I felt his lip on top of my clit, and his tongue on the bottom. He started a motion with his tongue and lip, with my clit in between. About three seconds into it, I was done…almost to climax. I felt myself begin to cum. No, not yet, not yet, please…make this last.
He lifted his head, and looked me in the eye. He must have sensed I was going to cum.
“No, don’t stop. Please, Erik, don’t fucking stop.” I begged.
“Fuck my mouth. Grind your pussy on my face baby girl, do you hear me?”
“Yes sir. Do it. Do that again. Exactly what you were doing, exactly,” I said, hoping he could duplicate what he was doing.
Mots clés in-the-farmhouse
I felt like we were a machine, working in unison with one another. This was perfect. With my eyes closed, there was no time, no space, no house, no kitchen, just us. We weren’t two people any more, we were an us. A we. We became one. His tongue sliding up and down, and pressing against my clit.
Each time his tongue touched my clit, my hips were raised as high as I could raise them. When he released my clit from between his tongue and his lip, I lowered my hips. This system of movements worked perfectly. It was the same every time.
With my eyes closed, I tried to focus on the movements. I don’t know how much time passed, but I heard my breathing change. I felt as if I was turning hot.
I opened my eyes and looked at Erik. His eyes were open, and he was looking at my face. His mouth encompassed my entire mound. I opened my mouth. He raised his mouth off of me for a split second.
“Do it, Kelli. Do it. Cum in my mouth. Do it. And when you do, scream. Scream, Kelli. Cum in my mouth and scream. Do you hear me?”
In a short, shallow breath, I responded, “Yes.
Mots clés in-my-mouth
Now put your hands on the countertop, and bend over. I’m going to shove you so full of cock you won’t even remember how to spell your name for a week,” he said in his deep voice.
“Oh my. Ok,” I said as I did what he asked. As I grabbed the edges of the countertop, I felt his foot kicking the insides of my shoes, spreading my legs farther apart.
“You long legged, sexy little bitch. I have to get your pussy down here where I can get to it,” he said, as he slapped the right side of my butt, hard. The slap startled me, and the sting felt like fire.
As soon as he stopped kicking my shoes and spreading my legs apart, I felt the head of his cock slide past my lips. His hands grabbed my waist, and he slid all the way inside of me. As soon as I felt his balls against my clit, I began to contract and felt as if I was going to cum. His cock slid out, and then back in again. He found a rhythm and began to fuck me slowly, his hips slapping lightly against my butt as he slid all the way into my wet pussy. As his hips slapped my ass, I could feel his balls against my clit. I couldn’t take it anymore. If he kept up this pace, I would explode.
“Fuck me Erik, fuck me. Fuck me harder. Fuck me,” I said loudly.
“Fuck me, Erik. Oh God. Fuck me.”
“Fuck me.”
“Harder.” I begged.
“Who owns you, baby girl? Who fucking owns you?” he almost screamed.
“Oh God, you do. You own me. You.”
“Don’t forget it, do you hear me?” he said in a loud, stern tone.
“Yes, I am yours. You own me,” I responded...I loved this.
In and out he forced himself, each time it felt as I was being stretched open for the first time. Not a tremendous pain, but each stroke felt like it was the first, the entry stroke. It was a new feeling to me, and it was more than I could take. I was going to explode.
“Please…Faster. Fuck me. Give me that cock. Give me that big fat….Oh my God. Give it to me.
Mots clés the-kitchen
Fucking men makes me have repeated orgasms. Fucking boys makes me angry."
Kelli from Scott Hildreth's Baby Girl
Mots clés baby-girl kelli-talks-to-heather
Looking beyond life’s imperfections allows one to be able to find happiness. Life is not perfect, ever. For me, remembering that life is flawed, people are flawed, and therefore relationships are flawed, allows me to look at the flaws and imperfections as part of life itself. A perfect life includes all of the flaws associated with what and who you surround yourself with. My life and my means of living it are no exception. I was, as all people are, flawed. I accepted myself as being flawed no differently than I accepted others as being so.
Scott HildrethMots clés erik-ead-is-a-human
Love isn't real. Love is what people say to you so they can keep fucking you. So they can keep your interest. I don't want lies. I want my ass slapped. My hair pulled, and treated like a little whore.
Scott HildrethMots clés kelli-confesses-to-heather
Love requires courage, persistence, and maintenance. Love just doesn’t lie there with us as we live our lives, and engulf us, providing us with an assurance that it exists.” “Love is developed, and it is never perfect. We, as people, are flawed. Therefore, love is flawed. Most people live their lives trying to find the perfect person to provide them what they believe to be the perfect love. In my opinion, people should find someone that provides them with affection, someone that makes them feel, then develop and maintain the perfect love. That is the closest thing to real love that could ever possibly exist,
Scott HildrethMots clés erik-ead-comes-to-life
Diversity. Diversity satisfies our ever changing minds. It allows us to become satisfied. To become content that we are receiving what it is that we want, or need – without life becoming stale, stagnant, and repetitive. It keeps life adventurous. The not knowing. Just like when we were children..." Erik Ead, from Baby Girl, by Scot Hildreth
Scott HildrethPage 1 de 2.
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