Owning Avery Ch. 03

"Actually, I am," Avery said slowly, brows narrowed, and she watched Carter's freeze as his eyes shot up to meet hers. She felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment. "I have been since fifteen just because . . . well, cramps . . . and it regulated things to only every three months . . ."

Her voice had become weaker with every word, but Carter was elated. "You're not just saying that," he queried, just in case.

"Dude, you've never seen the little round case in the upstairs bathroom?" Mason asked, receiving a blank look from Carter in response. "Mom took her because she'd be balled up on the couch in pain."

"I was in college," Carter said with a shrug, then began removing his shorts. "Not really around for that." He brought his gaze back to Avery, who sat in a crablike position, still staring at him blankly. He brought both his shorts and boxer-briefs down to his ankles and stepped from them quickly, then raised her leg, taking to his knees between hers.

Avery was already shaking her head, heart thudding in her chest. She hadn't expected it to escalate immediately, and her only experience with sex had been awful. When Carter placed his hand on her, she felt his thumb enter and her arms began to quake. "Carter, wait . . ." she pleaded.

"Avery, you're ready, I can feel it," he said gently, stroking his cock with his other hand as he probed her. He suddenly noticed that she'd shaved; this morning there had been a landing strip. That was now gone. Despite all her protests, she'd prepared, from how she'd dressed to the lace bra and fully shaving herself.

"But I've only ever been with . . ." Avery faded out, staring at Carter's erection, watching how his hand pulled at it. She was so scarred from those three times, and it had been two years. And from what she could see, Carter had a good few inches on her ex, as well as width. She swallowed heavily, intimidated by his size and remembering how much it had hurt before.

"I know," Carter cooed, removing his hand from her and sliding it up her stomach. "Just lay back," he coaxed her, gently pressing her onto her back. He would be gentle, knowing later he wouldn't need to be. "Trust me, Avery. Just relax and trust me."

Relaxing was a joke; there was no way she could relax, her entire body was shaking. Still, Avery finally dropped her head and stared at the ceiling, trying to mentally prepare. Her hips were propped high on the couch cushions for him, which was a million times more vulnerable than she'd ever been with Benjamin, under the sheets at his house. She wasn't ready for sex, she was barely ready for the touching she'd received. Yes, she'd agreed now to more, but she thought maybe she'd have time before this, if it happened at all.

Carter made a conscious decision to forget Mason was in the room, sitting on the coffee table. He raised Avery's left leg and hooked it over the back of the couch, remembering how her legs had battled him with just a finger. Edging closer, he lined himself up and heard Avery moan from hardly any pressure at all.

Placing both of his hands on her hips to keep them steady, he gently pressed forward, making no real headway and receiving an enormous amount of protest from her muscles. He could feel her right leg shaking against his, and he sighed; this was not going to be easy. It would, however, be completely worth the patience. Just looking down between them; his cock poised and trying to enter her pussy . . . more than worth it.

"Avery, I want you," Carter said soothingly, stroking her hips with his thumbs.

"It just hurts!" Avery cried, gripping at her hair against her forehead.

"Of course it hurts," Carter replied with empathy. "You're not relaxing. It might still hurt even when you do, but after awhile it will feel good, I promise you. Just breathe and relax for me, Ave."

After a deep inhale, a large exhale, Avery swallowed and nodded. She felt an immense pressure—the type of pressure that wouldn't allow her to keep up the fight—and blinding pain. "Ahh-ahh-uhnnnnnnnn," she cried out loudly, exiting in nearly a sob.

The head was in, and it was actually painful for Carter how tightly she squeezed around him. "It's okay," he cooed, smiling at her, though she wasn't looking at him, her eyes mashed closed, her fingers scraping her face. "The worst is over." He pushed in another inch, watching himself swallowed by her, the hottest fucking thing he'd ever seen because it was Avery and not some random girl he was hooking up with. "We're there, Ave," he continued, knowing she needed the encouragement. "We're there and you feel fucking incredible."

Rather than continuing to push, he waited her out for a minute. Watched as the white left her knuckles and her cries soothed down to an occasional low sob. He kept completely still because she needed to calm down and relax. He knew she'd adjust and he was patient.

It also allowed him a moment to get himself together, too. Feel this exquisite pain of her muscles in a vice around him. Register that this was so new to her, he was only her second ever. And he knew he was the right one, because he would guide her through it. She was in safe hands.

After a minute, rather than push again he instead pulled on her hips so she'd slide onto him. It really was fucking incredible watching himself disappear inside of Avery, and he groaned as he neared the hilt, knowing it best not to take her all the way. He was aware of his size and if he hit that cervix, it was definitely over, so he left a few inches out.

Staying put, he adjusted her right leg first so it curved around him instead of beside him with her foot on the couch. Avery was still wriggling and he had to clasp her hips once more to keep her in place, but her left leg was still hooked over the back of the couch, which made things a little easier. It had been a stroke of genius getting her propped up on the pillows, however. With this angle, he had both the best possible view and angle with minimal effort.

Her sounds were delightful; cries of pain mixed with moans and sighs. "Carter, you're too fucking big for me," she cried out.

"I'm not," Carter disagreed. "You have all of me." That wasn't the entire truth, but it was close to it. He pulled out an inch, then sent it back in, slightly deeper. "Right now, right there. That's everything."

Everything he was giving for now, anyways.

"But it still hurts," Avery sobbed. The pain was singular, and she felt as though she may be ripped into pieces any second. There was a burn to it, stretched the way she was, because frankly he really was just too fucking big! He began slowly pumping in and out of her, and each slow reentry felt like a shock to her system. She couldn't believe she was even here, on this couch with Carter filling her like this. Had someone suggested it twelve hours ago at the party, she'd have died laughing. Now here she was. With Carter! What the fuck!

She had to relax. Told herself to relax, focused on it. Breathed in and out, though just as she felt she was adjusting, Carter had pumped her a little harder than the last and again she squealed. "I can't," she finally breathed.

Carter picked up his pace, though still making long and languid pumps, pulling back until just the head of his cock was inside, then again pressing forward. He'd never, ever been with anyone this tight—never anyone whose muscles gave up a fight like this—it was no wonder she was feeling pain. And while he had empathy for her, he also knew that it would eventually alter to pleasure. It always did.

"You are, Avery," he continued to encourage, his breathing becoming faster and faster. "God, you feel so good. How the fuck do you feel this good?" he asked, more to himself and punctuating the last three words with more powerful thrusts. He then noticed in his next few softer pumps that Avery was no longer crying out. Those had been moans, he was certain of it. To be absolutely sure, he slowly pulled away, then inched back in even slower to hone in on her response.

Sure enough, her back arched and a long moan left her lips. "There," he breathed, grinning at her. He repeated this a few more times before nearly fully embedding himself and holding still, then asking, "How do you feel now?"

Avery was stunned. Somehow she'd managed to relax a little and it was starting to feel good. Yes, there was pain to be had, but she could finally breathe, however stilted it was. She was sweating like crazy and raised her left hand up to push against the armrest of the couch which, of course, pushed her against him and she again moaned. "Better," she stuttered, then swallowed and looked at Carter, meeting his eyes. With a weak smile, she said, "it's better."

Though again she struggled with the fact that it was Carter as she stared at him, saw how his hands held her hips, how he pumped against her. Carter's dick was inside of her, which didn't feel real in the first place: like maybe it wasn't her at all, and this was all just a dream. Wilder, she actually liked it. He was so familiar. Too familiar. How his dark hair fell into his eyes, and the grimace on his face as he rocked against her.

The weight of it all—her emotions and confusion mixing with the primal pleasure and pain—suddenly welled up inside of her so abruptly that she cried out, "Jesus, Carter," and audibly done completely on accident. "Oh fuck!" Pressing harder against the armrest, her head fell to the side and the next shock came as she saw Mason sitting on the coffee table; she'd completely forgotten he existed.

He didn't just exist, he was stroking himself on top of his shorts. No idea what was driving her, just compelled as she was losing herself, she reached out with her free hand to him, maybe for help as Carter's thrusts were becoming faster by the second.

Mason's eyes widened as he hesitantly took her hand. It was all so surreal. She squeezed it back. It had been hard to see her in pain, but also so fucking hot that he'd become violently erect. Without conscious awareness of what he was doing, he unzipped his shorts and took to his knees beside the couch. Guiding Avery's hand over, he wrapped her fingers around his cock.

At first she simply held it. Squeezed it, really, and too tightly at that, as her body rocked upon the couch, but it didn't matter because it was Avery's hand. Mason reached over and cupped her breast, maintaining eye contact with her as she cried out and moaned from Carter's thrusts. A second later she began to stroke him. It was clumsy and it didn't even fucking matter. Avery was stroking him.

Carter was at the edge, and more than anything he wanted to feel Avery's muscles in the midst of her own orgasm. Sliding his right hand over, he ran his thumb up and down her slit, her cry intensifying in volume. "Come for me, Ave," he urged, determined to coax it from her as he located her clit.

Then he felt it. As he'd buried into her, she'd pushed back and the arch of her body lifted from the couch in the most erotic angle, muscles seizing. And with one last pump, he was done for, emptying himself into her depths with a groan; his release so powerful it bordered on painful. "Oh, fuck," he grunted, pulling at her hips again. Buried to his hilt, he didn't want to leave her; she was too warm and soft and tight. Truly, unbelievable. More than he could have possibly imagined, and he'd certainly spent the better part of the night imagining it in a myriad of ways.

Sadly, he couldn't stay inside, no matter how much he willed it so, and he slowly exited her, plopping out and sitting on his heels. Brushing his hair out of his eyes as he caught his breath, her legs unwound and she pressed them together tightly, letting them lean on the seatback. He stroked her calf, only now noticing that she was giving Mason a hand job, albeit slow and clumsy in her orgasmed state, and wondered how long that had been going on. He must have really narrowed his vision on her body and face alone to not have noticed.

Avery felt spent and dazed, but continued to stroke at Mason, feeling a need to finish what she started, even though all she wanted was to relish in her ecstasy. She could still feel Carter, or moreover, his absence as she pressed her legs together. Still feel her nerves firing in the pleasant discordance she'd first experienced this morning. Honestly she wasn't entirely sure when she'd started stroking him in the first place; she'd been so lost in getting fucked—which she believed she truly had been: fucked—that nothing else had existed.

"It's okay, Ave," Mason said, running his hand across her reddened forehead. "You can stop."

He was disappointed when her hand dropped, but how disappointed could he possibly be, really? They had all day, all night, and she'd agreed to be a part of this. Climbing up from his knees, he sat back down on the coffee table, smiling at her.

"Wait, Mason," Avery said. It was a struggle to move, but she slowly sat up feeling light headed, but was able to prop herself with a shaky arm. Holding the other out toward him in a 'stop' gesture, she repeated herself. "Just wait a second."

Blinking a few times, Avery slid off the side of the couch in front of him, then took his dick in her hand while looking up into his eyes. "I want to make you happy," she said with a weak smile. "I can do this."

Of the things she knew of sex, the one she'd had the most experience with she could certainly do.

"Ave," Mason said, but he was abruptly cut short as she leaned her head down and licked his length from balls to tip before taking him into her mouth, halting any thought he'd had. "Oh, shit," he groaned, gripping the edge of coffee table. Her warm and wet mouth began to suck, tongue travelling in circles and applying pressure in exactly the right place; how the fuck she knew his spot was beyond all reason.

He looked over at the couch, but Carter was gone. Probably for the best, and Mason brought his gaze back down to Avery as she bobbed her head up and down his shaft, twisting and stroking all the while. He placed his hand on the back of her head as she worked, no doubt in his mind that he'd never received a better blowjob in his life. "Jesus Christ, Avery," he breathed. At this rate he'd unload any second.

Lowering her head, Avery wrapped her lips around his balls and began to roll them about in her mouth as she stroked him before taking his dick into her mouth as far back as she could, sucking powerfully as she'd draw back, then repeating the action. He suddenly clutched the back of her neck as she heard him say, "Avery, I'm going to come," and in the very next second, her mouth filled with his semen. She sat back, still stroking him as she swallowed: never an easy thing to do.

Mason felt relieved and mortified at the same time. It had all happened in no more than minutes, though he'd been aching for her since spanking her last night, plus the last six years, if he was really being honest with himself. Not that he thought she wanted to give him head for a half hour, but he had some semblance of pride that he felt was lost now with how quickly it had all happened.

"Christ, Avery," he said, clutching her jaw and studying her. "How the fuck did you make that happen so quickly?"

Wiping her lips, Avery shrugged. "I need some water," she said instead of answering him directly. It's not like she was well practiced in the art, but she'd done it more than she'd had sex, that was for sure. She'd either somehow learned what guys liked, or she came upon it naturally, she couldn't really know which.

"Got it," she heard, and turned to see Carter coming into the room from the kitchen. He'd put on his boxer-briefs and was still in his black tee. He really had great timing with all things: breakfast, water, and making her leave her body in powerful orgasms.

Carter handed her the glass of water, which she sucked down to the last drop as she backed up onto the couch. He'd left pretty quickly to get water for himself when he'd seen her take to her knees, mostly because he didn't necessarily want to sit around watching her suck Mason. It only made him want to punish her; he'd felt this extraordinary need to own her that was more than just a game, and he wasn't sure he liked how it felt. While he'd been in the kitchen, he'd come no closer to an answer. It would be worked out with time, he hoped. But he'd heard Mason's groan that he knew to be the sound of a man coming, figured Avery would need some water as well and returned.

Picking up her black panties, he held them out to her. "Here," he offered, then sat down on the couch. "Go clean up."

She took them with a look of gratitude and hurried out of the room to the bathroom. Carter and Mason didn't speak to one another for a moment, until Mason finally sat back on the couch, shorts up and said, "I've no idea how Avery learned to give a blowjob like that."

Carter quietly chuckled. "I think that's what she's done to avoid sex," he told Mason, then explained what he knew of her experience, leaving out how he'd learned of it this morning.

"Dude, I had no idea," Mason breathed after hearing of her inexperience. "That was so hard to watch, you know."

"What?" Carter posed, knowing exactly what, but wanted to hear Mason say it, and which part specifically.

Mason shook his head. "You're too rough. You always have been," he told Carter. "You're her second ever and you just kept going while she was practically crying in pain."

Carter angled himself toward Mason in disapproval. "Sex was always going to hurt her unless someone showed her it didn't have to," he stated. "If I had stopped while she fought me, she'd just keep fighting and fighting, the next then the next and so on."

Still shaking his head, Mason strongly disagreed. "You didn't have to do it like that," he admonished.

"She was fine," Carter argued. "You're just jealous."

Mason turned away from his brother, deciding to disengage from the argument. Mostly, he thought, because that was the truth of it. It had been hard to watch because he'd been jealous. Turned on, yes, which was equally as shameful to him for some reason. He had a lot to think about.

When she returned a few minutes later, she looked like she'd been through a lot. For her, it absolutely had been more than anything she'd experienced in her life, Carter knew. He also knew he was feeling selfish. Holding an arm out, he said, "Come sit with me."

Avery slid down the couch into his arms, where he lifted her onto his lap. She leaned against him in a ball as he reached for a blanket and wrapped it around them both. It was comforting to be held after everything, despite being in only her panties and bra. "Mason, can you start the movie?" she heard Carter ask.

Picking up the remote, Mason looked over at Avery bundled up with Carter, her head collapsed on his shoulder in exhaustion. And while he understood how worn out she must feel, he felt a bitterness rise in him over Carter's presumption that he had more of a right to be holding her than him. Shifting in a way where they weren't in his periphery on the far end of the couch, he un-paused the movie.

And he spent the whole of it trying to figure out how to pull her from his brother. For some reason, Carter had managed to get the bulk of Avery's attention, always one step ahead of him. And he was determined to even the scale, if not turn the table to his side.