30 is the New 20 Ch. 01

"I'm not going to be your second choice, Johnny; the vulnerably divorced and convenient girl next door that you can fuck whenever you've got nothing better going on."

"Whoa," he lifted his palms in defense, "Taylor... I don't have a girlfriend, I thought I made that clear?"

I continued to glare, "Do you think I'm stupid? I saw that woman you were with. Her car was parked outside your house all night."

"You mean Valerie? My sister?"

(Sister? That seemed plausible.)

My stomach instantly felt like it fell through the floor, "Your... sister?"

He exhaled a breathy laugh, "Yeah, she drove from Phoenix to bring me some stuff I had left at home before enlisting."

(That explained the duffel bag.)

"She stayed for dinner and we got to talking; I hadn't seen her since getting discharged. She had a little too much wine and decided to stay the night."

(A perfectly acceptable explanation.)

I felt like an ass. A completely insane ass. Not only had I let my presumptions get the best of me, I had acted like a totally jealous hag since answering the door.

Yet, somehow, he wasn't angry. Johnny was smiling at me, "Did you think...?"

"Obviously I wasn't thinking," I exhaled with embarrassment, "Jesus, Johnny, I'm so sorry. You must think I'm a complete bitch."

"It's probably my fault," he stunned me by saying, "I should have come by yesterday. I mean, after what happened over the weekend, it was pretty dick-ish of me not to. I guess I just didn't want you to think I was too desperate, or something. Like some kid with a crush whose going to glom onto you. I wanted you to think I was cool."

And just like that, with only a few words, Johnny made me all better. He eliminated all my fears and hesitations. He reminded me that I'm only human and that we all have our self-doubts. He made me feel normal. I loved feeling normal.

"So... you really like the toaster?" I asked stupidly.

He stepped into the house and closed the gap between us, "Yeah, it's the most incredible fucking toaster I've ever seen."

Johnny cupped my cheeks when he kissed me, taking control and drawing me against him like a force of gravity. My hands fell onto his chest, my fingers lying against the soft fabric of his tee shirt. I was sixteen and kissing the star quarterback behind the high school, the kiss transforming me into a jumble of spring fever, young love, and dancing butterflies. It was intoxicating and I wanted to get drunk off his lips.

"Do you have to go to class?" I whispered when we finally broke to take a breath.

His forehead grazed against mine as Johnny shook his head, "Classes don't start until Wednesday... tomorrow."

"What kind of school starts their semester in the middle of the week?" I asked.

His mouth went to that sensitive spot on my neck that turns me into a puddle of goo, "You trying to get rid of me?"

I tilted my head to accommodate him and felt Johnny's hands slide beneath the hem of my sweats. He pawed at my butt and made me feel so sexy. "No, I'm not trying to get rid of you, but if we fuck again can we still go out to dinner?"

"Anywhere you want," he said before sucking on my earlobe.

I was soft clay in his arms. Wherever his hands groped me, I simply leaned with it. Wherever his lips went, I gave him unlimited access. When he grabbed my breast I let him know how much I loved it by whimpering cutely. When he kissed me and stuck his tongue in my mouth I sucked on it wantonly. When he picked me up by the butt I wrapped my calves around his thighs and let him carry me to the couch. I wanted to be his possession, to belong to him, and I wanted so badly for him to take my body and use it for his pleasure.

So much for feminism.

Once he had me on the couch, on my back, he pulled my sweats off and took my panties with them. I watched him undo his buttonfly jeans and admired the narrow path of youthfully thin hair in the center of his slender abs. He was rock hard and no woman can deny the flattery they feel when a man's cock stands at throbbing attention just for them. Johnny pushed his jeans off before peeling that tee shirt off his glorious torso; I watched every second with excited anticipation, knowing he would soon take me.

My ankles went over his shoulders as he knelt on the couch, grabbing me by the hips and scooching me into position. His entrance was smooth and effortless due to my natural lubrication; my arousal was practically dripping out of me. My tank top was still on and Johnny pushed it up my frame towards my neck, taking my bra with it until my breasts spilled out from beneath. He grabbed them, filling his palms with my flesh while teasing my nipples with his thumbs, making me pant and moan like a porn star.

And then he started fucking me. The boy could do no wrong, his seven inches gliding inside me and dragging against my clitoris with every thrust inward. I loved his cock. I loved the way it made me feel and it fit perfectly inside me. A conflagration burned through me and I think it took Johnny by surprise that I came so quickly because he slowed down, but I told him not to stop.

"Keep fucking me," I begged, "Don't stop fucking me!"

"Oh fuck, you're so fucking sexy," he said, still mauling my tits.

He leaned forward, his chest pushing my thighs against my own torso, folding me in half like a lawn chair as he slammed into me. His cock reached places no man had been before and I screamed in pleasure, pinned beneath his assault and unable to move or resist. I loved it, every second, as he hammered into my pussy and took his pleasure.

"Make me your woman," I gasped, "Fuck me and make me yours."

I doubt he had ever heard a girl say such things because I could see his expression twist in arousal from the carnality of it. His humping intensified and he started grunting in the way men do when their penis takes over their mind. His hands pressed against the back of my thighs, which pressed against my breasts, preventing my ankles from doing anything but dangle above us.

"So fucking good," I moaned, "Your cock is so fucking good. I need your cock, I need your cock so fucking bad. Fuck me, Johnny. Fuck me and give me your cum. I want your cum. I want your cum, Johnny. I want to give you pleasure. Oh god... oh god...! I'm fucking cumming!"

My dirty talk put him over the edge and he pulled out of me, lifting his cock to hover over me and deposit it into my mouth. Had my ex-husband ever done such a thing I would have called the police, but with Johnny I wanted it. I wanted to taste him. I wanted him to know he could do any dirty thing he wanted to my body. I was his.

Sucking the top half of his cock, I jacked off the lower half until he erupted down my throat. I briefly gagged, his semen impacting against my tonsils, but my recovery was quick and I managed to swallow down his entire load. My tongue swathed against his soft underside and I kept sucking, milking him for every drop. It didn't taste that great, but it didn't taste that bad either and I wanted to do it for him. What twenty year-old guy doesn't fantasize about shooting his cum down a girl's throat? I wanted... no, I needed him to know I would do that for him. I wanted to be his fantasy made real.

"Oh shit," he groaned loudly, his cock popping free of my mouth when his orgasm was over, "That was so fucking hot."

Releasing me from my folded state, Johnny laid atop me between my legs and kissed me. He did so without hesitation and with full confidence, even though he had just cum into my mouth. Most guys would be too scared to taste their own fluids, worried it would make them gay or something silly like that, but not my boy. He kissed me with such passion that the emotion was almost a physical thing I could feel burning off his body. I kissed him back, wrapping him in my arms, wordlessly telling him how much I had enjoyed our sex.

We fucked three more times that day. Once more on the couch and twice in my bed. Dinner that night was at Taco Bell; not the ritziest location but it was what I wanted after having sex all day. We sat in a back booth and he made-out with me, once again making me feel like a lovesick teenager.

I had no idea where our relationship was going, but I'd never been happier in my entire life than I was at that moment. I didn't tell him, but I was in love with him. I sensed he was in love with me as well, but it was too soon to say the words. In that moment I was his, I was with him, and that was good enough.

Little did I know the fire we had ignited.