Chats in the Stairwell

His smooth, angry head slipped with ease into my waiting red slit. He did not need to prod, or work himself against me, or get me any more juiced up than I already was; instead, he just leaned forward and stabbed all the way into me, my inner lips dragging along his wide shaft, and despite myself I muttered into the pillow. He paused, his balls mashed against my clit; I cold see them as I looked up from underneath. "What was that?"

I groaned. "Nothing, Scott, just fuck me." He slid right back out with a sticky, squishing noise, and I saw his balls rocking back and forth.

"What was that? I didn't hear you." The swinging balls taunted me, and I gripped the pillow in frustration.

He wanted me to beg; maybe that was another of his kinks or something, but I wasn't too proud at all. Other men had made me beg, and with much less reason. "Please, just fuck me. Fuck me like a bitch in heat. Get yourself off and fill my nasty hole." I hoped that was enough, because as glad as I was to play the submissive role, I really did need that dick. My jaw clenched while I waited.

And, again, he obeyed me. I felt his body jar against mine with desperate force, shaking my muscles, my boobs swinging toward my chin: once, twice, then I lost count as he took his pleasure from my tight, naked body. He was not so clichéd as to spank me, although I'd have been fine with that; instead, he just grabbed my hips with bruising strength, moving me back and forth to meet his thrusts. "That ass of yours," he murmured tightly, and that got me going.

"Yeah. That's your ass today, motherfucker." I picked my head up and twisted my neck as far around as my constricted position would allow, looking back over my straining hips with a look of challenge. "Take me, Scott," I chanted in a low, urgent voice. "Give me what you've been waiting to give me ever since those fucked-up chats in that moldy-ass stairwell. You've been dreaming about fucking me, haven't you?"

"God yes." He kept moving smoothly, on autopilot, riding me in a caveman rhythm as old as time. It felt incredible. "I've jacked off to you a hundred times."

"That's dirty," I hissed. "Only a hundred? I'm offended." I took his hand and pulled it insistently forward to grope a swinging breast; his other hand immediately followed suit. I groaned as my tits filled his clutching hands. His dick had long since found my g-spot, his hips angling himself perfectly to get my body singing. This was excellent sex, outstanding sex, and I wanted more. "No need for you to jack off today. That cum is going right into my snatch."

"Damn straight," he announced, speeding himself up. I was momentarily bothered that my normal time to take my Pill was, well, right now; I didn't suppose a half hour one way or the other would matter, though, and I wasn't about to keep Scott from shooting into me. It all just felt too good: the friction, the sense of fullness, even the emotional connection we'd realized we had, all combined to send me off the deep end again; I moaned wordlessly as I slumped back down against the pillow, once again slackly weightless, my brain back in that pink mush.

"You came again?" Scott was panting, tiring now, but he laughed giddily. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," I muttered, and I meant it. I felt completely calm, and it was all Scott's doing. Everything seemed cottony and distant now; my body was moving back and forth automatically, my limbs heavy, my vagina slurping obscenely. I wondered what it would feel like when he came; few men had ever fucked me bareback, and Leon typically only spurted two or three times. Something told me Scott would outdo that.

"Shit," he grunted. "This feels amazing. I'm not going to be able to hold out much longer, Boyle."

"No problem," I replied, jittery now, gathering my tired legs to push back for him. "I'm ready when you are." I gritted my teeth with the effort, my abs and quads burning as I forced myself into his thrusts. Our bodies smacked loudly together as our mouths came out with meaningless syllables; his grasping fingers had made red marks all up and down my torso.

And then his strokes lengthened, his hips driving forward with shattering force, and I knew what was coming next. He shoved himself into me as far as he could, driving my tired body back into the pillow as he pulled me back onto him with all his strength; I heard a gargling cry from above me, then my insides grew slippery and warm as he came. I distinctly felt that thick, marvelous dick twitch and spasm as it basted the walls of my vagina, coating me all the way up. I felt like an overfilled water balloon, every part of my internal plumbing sloshing with his semen.

I coughed out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, feeling him relax against me. His cock continued to twitch, leaking steadily into me; his mouth made uncontrollable sounds as his orgasm finally slowed down. My battered thighs wavered and swayed as, still attached to his penis, I fought for balance. "Urghh," I said, or something like it, as I toppled sideways. He tried to stay with me, his penis only now beginning to soften, but in the end he wound up flopped on his back at the foot of the mattress, all tangled in the sheets and blankets he'd been wrapped in earlier.

I glanced over, my breathing coming under control; his bright red dick was glued to his belly with sweat and other things. I felt a molten waterfall (spermfall?) pouring from my overstretched vagina and shuddered as I thought about how it must look down there. Scott heaved a massive sigh, the sunlight full in his face. He stretched, looking oddly catlike, and I dragged my tired limbs toward him. Along the way, I crossed our spreading puddle of cum, flecked with his dark pubic hair; I was too tired and exhilarated to care when I got a bunch of that broth smeared over my sweaty body.

"Well," I said quietly. "We do pretty well on Friday mornings at AP conferences." I nestled sticky-thighed into his cooling body, laying my head on his hairy chest to look fondly up at him. I am a cuddler after sex, which has been known to drive away lesser men; I thought I had a good read on Scott, though, and I wasn't too surprised when he obligingly locked an arm around me and held me close. Nice. "Thanks for sparing my sinuses today."

"Oh, make no mistake," he replied, wedging an arm underneath his head so that he could look back at me, "I'd have done the same thing again if you'd blown me today."

"Asshole."

"Yup." He reached down with his other hand and moved my wavy hair out of my face before sending his arm down to rest on my back. "You definitely emptied me, Boyle. I hope you're not hoping for a repeat performance; I'd be a sad disappointment."

I patted his chest. "Scott," I said carefully, meaning every word, "if I never get you back in me ever again, I'll still die content. This," I added, reaching behind me to grope for his drained penis, "was worth the wait."

"Mmm." Even in his deflated state, Scott liked me touching him. His weight shifted as he craned around to look at the bedside clock. "7:30. Want to go halfsies on a shower? I think I'm a little sticky."

"Shit." My thighs were already caking together. Things felt very, very moist down there; I was grateful I'd shaved, after all. "You and me both. The bathtub is nice and wide, though, if you'd prefer..."

And that's how we found ourselves reclining in delicious exhaustion in the tub, our legs braided comfortably together. I sighed in pleasure as I felt the warm, soapy water soak away the residue of our little frolic. He was gazing frankly at my boobs. "It's going to be weird, sitting next to you all day," he said candidly.

"Little bit," I said, using a hotel glass to scoop water over my hair. "I'll be busy looking forward to this afternoon, though," I added, glancing at him. The surface of the water was oily with soap and our discharges, and his dick bobbed softly. I gave it a playful dig with my toe. "I meant what I said earlier, about dying happy; still, I'm not going to lie. If you want to nail me again after the workshop, I won't say no, sore vag or not."

He smiled. "It's a date. Um," he went on, a little nervously, "just so you know, I did ask the wife if I could go camping. You know, with a 'friend' who lives nearby." He shrugged, the water rippling. "No go. It would have caused an argument, I think."

"Hey, that's fine," I replied, stroking his calves. "I'm not here to break up your marriage. If you're happy, I'm happy." I meant it, too. I felt a little guilty now about betraying Leon, but I knew I wouldn't have felt that way if Scott hadn't been better than Leon at eating me out. I also reasoned that this wasn't really cheating, per se: this was unfinished business, business which predated Leon by five whole years. What were the two of us supposed to have done here? Sat for two days and passed notes about the weather?

Fuck that.

* * *

We arrived in the classroom separately, of course, and I went down to drop my stuff off near my seat before I went to eat. Margaret followed me in, greeting the early arrivals. "Feel free to pick a new seat today, get some new scenery," she told everyone, looking straight at me as I sat in the same spot. I stayed right there, catching up with my emails, and Margaret came drifting over and leaned down. "Umm, hi," she said, smiling despite the vague malevolence in her eye. "I was just thinking, I'd appreciate it if you and your... partner... could keep it down a little bit today."

I blinked at her. "Uh, sure. We just haven't seen each other in like ten years."

"Of course!" she smiled. "It's just that, you know, there were some complaints yesterday." I thought of Bob Daly, of the crew that had gone to dinner with Margaret, and I had to calm my breathing.

"We'll keep it down," I said flatly, thinking about how loud I'd been when he'd made me cum a couple hours ago.

"Thanks!" Her saccharine Texas smile floated back to where she was laying out more art supplies at the front of the room, and I was texting Scott before she got there.

"FEEL FREE TO PICK A NEW SEAT," SHE SAYS. SHE SAID FOLKS COMPLAINED ABOUT OUR CHATTER. He should have been on his way from breakfast by now. He got right back to me.

WE CAN'T SIT TOGETHER?

OH, I'M SAVING YOUR SEAT. FEAR NOT.

There was a pause. NOW I'M IN A MOOD.

I THINK THAT IF PEOPLE ARE COMPLAINING ABOUT US, WE SHOULD SIMPLY GET LOUDER.

He came back with a bright yellow emoji, smiling craftily. GOOD PLAN. SEE YOU SOON.

I put my phone down and thought about Bob Daly and the indignant ladies who sat in front of us. Then I thought about my pussy, freshly fucked, deliciously sore, and very, very happy. Then I thought about Scott and the afternoon ahead.

It was going to be a pretty good day.