Swallowing Dan

She was wracked with conflicting emotions. She hated Dan, and feared the deep humiliation of him discovering her naked, disheveled and sweaty, and behaving so impetuously slutty in public. But she'd also beheld his face for real, and his heroic smile and confident eyes flooded her body with so much heat she could feel it rising off her into the cold air—and the wonderful stab of her boyfriend's cock plunging in and out became far more stimulating with Dan so near. She fought hard not to think of him, but couldn't pull her eyes from his strong, lean frame.

Pierce's hand locked to her waist, his hips slamming against her, and his cock buried into her excited pussy. Her body craved it so bad she risked being found out, and mumbled softly, 'Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!'

Dan and his former teammate had stopped at a car, and hugged each other the way men do, barely a bump of the chest accompanied by a firm forearm clutch on the back, and then his teammate climbed into his car and Dan began walking their way again. A few more feet and he'd surely hear the clap, clap, clap of her boyfriend slamming against her tight ass, the echo not only amplifying the sound but sharpening it. Finally she looked away from him, back towards Pierce, and whispered someone was coming.

Pierce leaned his head over until he could see through the van windows and smiled when he spied Dan walking towards.

"We'll, well, speak of the devil." Delight percolated from his voice, and he slammed her harder still. "Bet that dick wishes he was me right now."

"Don't say that," she said to herself, "don't dare say that!"

She bit her lip spying up at Dan through the windows, as her boyfriend thrust in hard from behind. He was only five cars away now, and headed straight for them.

"Mr. Dan the Quarterback must've really missed his favorite cheerleader," her boyfriend whispered, pacing the words to his assault.

She could see the gritty blue of Dan's eyes, and they brought back her favorite high school cheer. 'Break through the defense, the quarterback's our man! Score, quarterback, score, the quarterback's our man.' Her debauched mind then cruelly conjured up an image of herself lying on a bleacher seat, cheering the cheer as Dan drove into her, grabbing her raised ankles and making her legs clap twice at the end of each rallying verse. "Oh God no!"

Dan was just two cars away and had to hear bodies smacking together. She preyed he blamed something mechanical, like the air conditioning malfuctioning. Her boyfriend continued to boast in whispers. "Here we are, Mr. Dan the Quarterback, right here where I'm scoring the touch down you only dreamed of."

Oh god, did Dan really dream that? Her pussy drenched her boyfriend's cock. If Pierce knew why, it would crush him to pieces. He'd crushherto pieces!

Dan then pulled out his keys and unlocked his BMW parked one slot over. Just as he opened the door, Pierce began ramming her like never before. Her hands braced on the van were causing it to rock ever so slightly. Dan looked up, smiled, and glanced through the van windows just as she dropped her head.

"Sounds like someone's getting real lucky," he called out, and then climbed into his car.

Montana's heart raced and her thighs shivered. Once again she'd plateaued, and just as the BMW's engine started with a roar, she screamed out, "Oh god Pierce, I'm coming! Make me come. Make me come like a dirty girl, you bastard. Oh god, I hate you for making my pussy feel so good. I hate you for making me want to fuck you so bad. I hate you for making me want your dick so bad!'

She was coming so hard she had no idea what she was saying, and then it reached a point where she flat out collapsed. Pierce grabbed her around the waist and held her firmly impaled on his dick. He was obviously swimming in pride over how strongly he'd made Montana come, and asked, "Who makes you come so good, baby."

Her orgasm tore gasps and whimpers from her throat as she tried to answer. It was for the best Pierce couldn't understand a word she said, or else he'd know that during the most intense climax they'd ever shared, Montana had been quite preoccupied with Dan.

As the BMW pulled out and began to drive away, her boyfriend shook and stopped moving, her ass completely mashed up against his pelvis. He unloaded a massive amount of come inside her as she hung limply in front of him. Her head buzzed, her ears rang, and behind her eyes, purples and pinks bled together in fuzzy union. Dan was still fucking there in the colorful darkness. She was on her knees before him, his cock in her mouth. As she slowly approached earth again, she felt her boyfriend's hands caressing her butt under the flipped up skirt, admiring his handy work, the illicit climax he'd ripped from Montana. It was his cock that fucked her, and his come inside her, yet she raised her head up to the van's windshield, sweat streaming down the side of her face, searching for something more in the empty parking slot on the other side--woefully empty.

She'd let Dan humiliate her in way she hadn't thought possible. Despite her contempt for him he'd managed to inflict just enough charm to bring her back to his handsome sweeping cheekbones, his unkempt yet stylish hair with the blonde Superman curl, and the extraordinarily fit body of an ex-athlete. His blue eyes had conned her into betraying her boyfriend, whose cock went limp inside her and who was certain her pussy only belonged to him. And then, as Pierce lifted her and carried her naked back into the van, she clung to his neck and swore Dan would pay.

***

Pierce stood in the modern kitchen, the lip of the black granite counter tops pressing cold on his naked ass. The reflective chrome toaster opposite him displayed the back of his girlfriend's head bobbing fiercely at his crotch. Down by the flush handless cabinets kneeled the real thing, his shaft disappearing into her mouth, and reappearing with a very satisfying wet sheen. She was doing him so good he had to white knuckle the counter top. A half-eaten sandwich sat on a plate behind him. His dinner had been interrupted without warning, when his girlfriend dropped to her knees and started blowing him. He had no problems letting his lady eat first, however, that's just the kind of guy he was.

She'd been horny all week, ever since the wedding. On a hunch, while doing it in their bed, he brought up her old high school friend, and she almost bit his head off, yelling, "What is going to take to make you understand how much I hate Dan? Would you please stop being such a jealous moron!" Despite her insistence, something about the night the two of them danced upset him, even now, and to make himself feel better he grabbed the back of her head and gave a little assistance.

Usually when he pulled that move she'd immediately stop and look up, her angry green eyes demanding he'd better be fucking kidding. But as he laced his fingers into her long, platinum hair, digging all the way down to the darker roots, and thrust his hips gently forwards, his girlfriend actually went with it. In fact, she was all business, hollowing her cheeks, pressing up with her tongue, making full, warm, soft contact from her pouty lips to her tender throat. He'd never met a girl who could give a blow job quite like her, she just preferred to be in control, which is why it surprised him to be grabbing her head and actually fucking into her mouth.

"God damn, baby, you're doing that too good. I might lose it already!"

As he thrust into her mouth, her big green eyes stared upwards. They were so gentle and compliant that he had to question if she wasn't playing him—allowing herself to be his own personal fuck-toy so she could go off on him for it later. But Jesus did she look hot with her cheeks hollowed and lips swollen to form fit his dick.

She was so ridiculously hot he wondered how he'd ever landed her. When his dick slid outwards he could see down her top, into the glorious cleavage presented by her extremely sexy pink dress. The dress was made of a sheer springy material with a black rose print, and almost skin tight. It had spaghetti straps that left the thin straps of her black, lacy bra visible. A yellow gossamer-mesh sweater clung to the edge of her shoulders, but left her prominent collarbone, neck and chest completely exposed. One reason her tits looked bigger than usual was the pink dress hugged her waist, showing off her flat stomach and contrasting it against her pin-up girl bosom and curvaceous ass. She also wore a black bead necklace, with a single strand of beads hanging from its center, dangling down between her soft globes.

Her fingers were digging into the back of his thighs. She took almost all of him––all six-and-three-eighth inches. Montana's, face was just so pretty, too pretty to have a cock stuffed in her mouth. Her cute nose, cool flat cheeks, slender jaw––they were all so preciously pretty. He felt guilty about violating them with his big dick. Although her pretty face spurred his thoughts in another direction, too, and he had to resist the urge to really hammer his dick into all that prettiness.

The temptation to do so grew stronger the longer he stared down into her big eyes. They were surrounded by light eye shadow and thick eyeliner that popped her green irises forwards in a hauntingly alluring way. Which was another thing that amazed him about the spontaneous blow job––she had just finished getting ready to go out with her girlfriends. And now her lipstick was a goner, her hair was getting mussed up, and considering how far down her throat his six-and-three-eighth-inches reached, she'd soon shed tears and lose the eyeliner too. Then again, maybe she decided to thank him with the killer blow job because he was being so cool about her night out with her girlfriends. It wasn't that often she got to dress up and have fun.

He slowed down a little bit to prolong the moment, but she wouldn't have it, and sped right back up, her cheeks crushing in and her tongue undulating along the underside of his shaft. She became so aggressive her tits started bouncy madly and his balls actually slapped her chin. Fuck, he was going to lose it. "Oh shit, babe, I'm there, I'm fucking there. I'm coming, babe, here it comes!"

He tightened his grip on her head as ecstasy squeezed at his brain and he neared unconsciousness. His balls tightened, and come flew up and out his shaft. She didn't make a move to get away, not with his hands locked tightly on her pretty head, and he exploded in her mouth.

Holy fuck! It was a major load, leaving him babbling how much he loved her as his cock pulsed come over her tongue and she breathed hard and shaky through her nose. And then his big six-and-three-eighths-inches and its massive load became too much for her. She scooted back a few feet, stood, and tore down the hall towards the bathroom. Jesus, he must have come straight down her throat and made her gag. He pulled up his pants and shook his head to clear his senses, and then went to see if his girlfriend was OK.

She'd shut the door, so he knocked and asked if everything was cool.

"Yeah, it just went a little too far down."

He felt like a complete ass, although his pride was soaring. He was big, he'd looked it up, six-and-three-eighths inches was well above average. He should have been more careful. Then again, he'd just earned some bragging rights.

Five minutes later she came out, her lips looking fine, lipstick reapplied, and a minty freshness on her breath. He gave her a kiss and a hug, and explained how he loved her. She was so pretty and so beautiful, and could be so insatiably sexual at times.

"So I have no idea why I got lucky tonight. But you're still only allowed two drinks, that hasn't changed."

She brushed his cheek. "I know, I just love you." Mischief crept up in her voice, "And... I'm going out with the girls, so there'll be a terrible shortage of this." Her hand brushed over his crotch, and again her baby doll lips pressed against his.

***

The bartender asked what she'd have, his bristly beard undulating with his words. Montana held her breath a moment and then ordered a single shot of El Mayor Reposado. Dan was paying, so why let it go to waste.

The bartender was handsome, but rougher than she liked, and he perked up when he heard her order. "You know your tequilas, huh?"

Dan answered for her. "She's a cocktail waitress, and a damn good one."

Montana tugged her gossamer-mesh sweater a little higher on her shoulders. The bar had a draft, or maybe it was just the bartender's eyes.

The shot landed on the bar, Dan scooted it along the heavily varnished wood towards her and guilt immediately set in. She was breaking promises left and right. There was to be one drink with her girlfriends and one more with Dan, but the girls were so much fun, and the margaritas so good she couldn't sit out the second round. The tequila with Dan was her third drink, breaking her promise to Peirce. But then again, she was out with Dan behind his back, and an extra drink seemed like small potatoes compared with that.

"Fuck it," she said, raising her shot glass. She clinked it against Dan's vodka and tonic and then gulped it down.

"You're my kind of woman," the bartender said, ready on the pour as her glass came down. She shook her head, but he filled the glass anyway. "Just watching you drink is worth a free one." He then sent a second little glass spinning in the air, caught it, and slammed it down next to hers. This one he poured for himself.

"Thank you. You know I've always had a thing for bartenders."

Dan pounded the bar. "Damn, and here I thought you had a thing for quarterbacks."

She rolled her head back, letting her shadowed, upper eyelids lower seductively, and leaving just the glow of her brilliant green irises peeking between the black eyeliner. "Only the nice ones." She then raised her tequila towards Dan's vodka and tonic, but at the last second, she redirected it towards the handsome rough bartender. He clinked his little glass to hers, and together they knocked back the amazing Reposado.

The bartender smiled at Montana and Dan interrupted. "Alright, Franklin, don't you have some business at the other end of the bar?" He may or may not of had any business, but Franklin strutted away with grandiose pride.

Now that Dan had sole ownership of her attention, he only stared at her, his staunch blue eyes beaming out a warning.

"What?You still have a long ways to go to make up for what you did."

"Well, you're here with me, so I can't have that far to go."

"Clever boy."

"Damn, Monty, you are really something. If in high school someone told me you'd grow to be even prettier, I would've said they were full of crap. But look at you! You really are even more gorgeous."

She actually blushed. "OK, I think you just made it up to me a little tiny bit." His hand moved over hers. "You know I have a boyfriend," she said, addressing his affectionate touch, "I'm here as a friend, and only apotentialfriend and that."

"OK Monty, I can do the friend thing for as long as you can."

She laughed with him. "You are still the most cockiest bastard ever."

"Hey, I call it shooting from the hip."

"Oh my god, I remember that line from high school. You are the exact same guy." Her eyes wandered from his face, intrigued by how tight the shoulders of his shirt stretched over his deltoids and the pearl buttons on his collared shirt tugged slightly over the girth of his chest. The instant she realized what she was doing, she began to blush again. He was in such good shape, but she couldn't let that affect her judgment. She thought hard about that night at the party, how sick it made her feel when she learned she'd drank his come. He was every bit as gorgeous as before, and every bit as bad for her, dangerous even. Ever since the wedding he'd pop into her mind at the worst times, mainly when she was trying to do it with her boyfriend. She had to put a stop to it, and it had to be tonight!

"I remember seeing you in the halls between class and wondering why the prettiest girl in school wasn't heading up the pack of marginally attractive popular girls. And what'd I use to say?You're prettier than them all, Montana.Was that it?"

"As beautiful as ever," she corrected. "You probably saved the other line for Beth."

"Hardly."

"What?She was your girlfriend our entire senior year."

"Eh! She looked good on paper." His eyes darted across the room. "I'll let you in on a secret. I was actually glad you beat her ass up that day."

"No you weren't. You were the one who pulled me off. God I was so going to hurt her!"

"Well, she was my girlfriend. I would've been a very sorry man if I stood by letting you beat her senseless." He sipped his drink. "Youknow what she's like, turning the whole school against you."

Her brow furrowed at the thought of it, and Dan held her hand again. "And I'm so sorry for that shit, I never meant to grab you there. They just...," he overtly glanced at her cleavage, framed by her stretchy, pink dress, "...got in the way."

"Well, you really paid the price for that one. And I'm not saying I'm convinced you didn't mean to do it, but even I thought it was unfair kicking you off the team."

He raised his glass in a toast, only to realize her tequila shot was gone. "You need a drink, let me get Franklin back over to pour another round."

Montana didn't argue, the last gave her courage, and she really needed courage for what was coming. Dan put an arm on her shoulder, like a lover would, possessing her as he called to Franklin. And, leaning closer to her than he'd been all night, close enough for her to breathe in his captivating cologne, he sweetly inquired, "You ever think we'd end up here like this, sharing a drink and civilized conversation?"

Her hand found his jean covered thigh all on its own. It was intentional, she meant to lead him on, or so she told herself. As she rubbed her hand up and down his developed quads, she imagined herself more and more as the girl in La Femme Nikita, indulging in a little disarming fun before taking out her mark. She was hunting him, after all, and hunters are bound to become a little excited over their prey, it was only natural,right?

Franklin poured them another round, and once again included himself. Dan then raised his fresh drink with Montana and Franklin followed his lead, "Here's to the femme fatal who got me kicked off my football team." He smiled, waiting for Montana to argue the point, but she only shook her head amusedly.

Franklin went back to watching the game on TV at the other end of the bar, and Dan scooted off the barstool.

"I need to make a quick trip to the bathroom. Keep an eye on Franklin for me. Make sure he doesn't get lost."

"If I get lost it's 'cause I'm on your momma," he called back, still facing the TV.

"For fucks sake, Franklin, you got a nice girl listening to all this."

"Pfffttt, nice? She's cleaning me out of El Mayor." He broke contact with the TV to give Montana a smile.

Once the bathroom door shut behind Dan, she grabbed her handbag off the barstool next to her and set it on the bar. She reached inside, feeling for the small jar that once held a single serving of fancy apricot jam and came in a gift basket sent by a bride. Once her fingers found the cool glass, she glanced at Franklin, making sure he still faced the TV. She reached her other hand inside the small handbag and twisted the lid. It made a loud pop, and she flinched so hard she almost spilled it inside her handbag. She was lucky, she loved the handbag and gooping it up with her boyfriend's come would've surely ruined it. And there was so much come. She couldn't believe how much when she'd spit it into the jar earlier. She couldn't use it all, he'd certainly notice that.