Darcy Goes to London

When she reached twenty, Oliver began rubbing her red-hot ass cheeks gently with his hands, and just as Darcy was wondering what his next move was going to be, he was picking her up and tossing her up onto the bed, on her stomach.

Hard and roughly, he slammed his cock into her pussy, falling against her body. He fucked her in a consistent rhythm the way that she liked. Darcy was easy in that way -- it was clear what she liked, what pushed her buttons, and Oliver had quickly learned it all. So he wasn't surprised when she was cumming underneath him, screaming into the bedsheets.

"I'm gonna cover that ass in cum," groaned Oliver into Darcy's ear, before pulling out and shooting his load across her stinging ass cheeks. He watched the cum spray out of the head of his cock, coating her.

"Mmmm," Darcy moaned, relaxing into the bed as Oliver dragged the head of his cock across the cum.

Then he crawled towards her face so that Darcy could clean his cock. It was something she had done unexpectedly after sex a couple of nights ago, and Oliver had gone crazy for it. He loved how she was kitten-like as she lapped up the remaining drops of cum.

As Oliver went to go get Darcy a towel, Darcy fell on her stomach, grinning into the pillow. She was living out slutty fantasies that she never thought she'd be having, but was enjoying more and more every time.

"So you said you wanted to start reading more, right?" said Oliver, as he flopped onto the bed. "Because tomorrow is supposed to be another rainy one, and I thought you might like to try a book."

Darcy looked at him, confused. "Um, yeah. Sure. That sounds good. What book did you have in mind?"

Oliver just smiled. "You'll see."

The next morning, Oliver proved to be right. The day was already starting off with a torrential downpour of rain. Darcy could make do with her raincoat in the gentle spring storms, but this was another level. Oliver, however, insisted on going out for coffees, and the timing couldn't have been better.

"Girl, where have you been?" said Anya, when Darcy finally returned her call. "I know you're traveling the world and shit, but you can't forget about your measly little American friends!"

Darcy laughed but noticed that Anya sounded truly stressed. "Well, what's up?"

"So I checked your mail for you yesterday and... guess what's come back around to haunt you?"

Darcy's heart dropped into her stomach. "It's not... he's not... I thought -- "

Before she could say anything else, Oliver was coming into the hotel room with two coffees for them, his glasses still wet from outside.

Not even bothering to say goodbye, Darcy hung up on Anya, reaching gratefully for the hot, steadying cup of coffee.

"You look fucking cute in the mornings, I must say," said Oliver. "You sleep stretched out over the whole bed. I barely had any room at all!"

Darcy shrugged innocently, running her hands through the tangles in her hair. "Hey, it's my vacation!"

"I meant to ask you," said Oliver, sitting on the bed by Darcy's feet, "what was this big lawsuit? You don't have to talk about it, but I'm curious of course."

Stalling for time, Darcy sipped her cup. She didn't want to get into this, not here, not with Oliver.

"I see," Oliver said, recognizing her silence as the answer. "That's okay. But hey, I did bring something for you. A present."

"What sort of present?"

"A book! It's a local poet who's really starting to take off."

Darcy turned the book over in her hands. Poetry wasn't necessarily her genre, but she thought it was sweet of Oliver anyway.

"Go ahead," he said, nodding at the book in her hands. "Start. Don't be rude. It's a gift, after all."

Darcy smirked at him, that familiar throbbing forming between her legs again. She opened up the book as Oliver began to throw his clothes on the hotel room floor.

Within seconds, Oliver was pushing aside the covers to access Darcy's pussy. He dove right into her warmth as she began to attempt to read the first poem.

"Ahhh," she said, "that's a little... distracting..."

Oliver moaned his acknowledgment against her clit, keeping her legs held apart, nice and wide. Meanwhile, Darcy struggled to get through even just a couple lines of the book. She couldn't stop shivering or closing her eyes.

By the time she came, she had long given up on the attempt to actually read. Her body weakened and got heavy, overcome with the waves of pleasure that always felt so intense with Oliver.

He rose up from between her legs, smiling as he wiped his glistening chin. "Roll over."

He didn't have to ask twice. Darcy rolled onto her stomach.

"Now, keep reading."

Darcy looked back over her shoulder at him. "But --"

"Yes?" Oliver interrupted, stroking his cock.

Darcy turned back around, focusing on the book, as Oliver began to fuck her. His cock felt so large in this position, with her legs pressed closely together. Every stroke made her feel shaky and breathless. He was deep, so deep.

"Read me the next poem," Oliver ordered, his hands gently holding the curves of Darcy's lower back. "Go on, don't be shy. You said you wanted to read more."

Darcy cleared her throat, but the breath got caught. She didn't know how she was going to pull this off.

Line by line, Darcy read off the poem, her voice sounding high-pitched and breathy. Each time she finished a stanza, she'd whimper and moan, but a quick smack of Oliver's hand on her ass had her focusing again. By the time she was finished with the next four pages, Oliver was fucking her hard and fast now, his body falling forward to cover hers.

"Good girl," he said into her ear, holding her up against him as he fucked deeply into her, raw and animalistic. "Such a bookworm, aren't you?"

Darcy could only groan, lifting her head up as Oliver's hand found its place on the front of her throat.

"You ready for this cum, Darcy?" he asked, out of breath. His skin was sweaty on hers, his body not slowing down. He was pumping and pumping into her, so fast, so aggressive.

"Yes!" Darcy nearly screamed. "Please cum for me!"

Then, it was slow again. Oliver was ramming into her in just a couple of pumps before finally collapsing. His cock was buried inside Darcy's cum-filled pussy. He didn't want to remove it. He wanted to feel that enveloping warmth forever.

When he finally slid out, Darcy didn't roll over right away. She didn't want to face the reality of Anya's news. She just wanted coffee and sex and cuddling. She just wanted Oliver walking out of her bathroom, swathed in steam. She just wanted to stay like this, for a long, long time...