Page 35 of The Man I Hate

My eyes darted to her naked lower half. Her narrow waist flared out into a wide set of hips, forming an ass like none I’d ever seen. As I stared in admiration of the heart-shaped wonder, she spread her feet shoulder width apart.

Her outstretched fingers gripped her ass cheeks. She bent at the waist until her forehead was inches from touching the hardwood floor. Her forearms tensed as she spread herself wide.

Her pussy opened like a flower.

My mind screamed no, but my mouth gave no opposition whatsoever.

Incapable of doing nothing but complying with her unspoken wish, I fumbled to unbuckle my belt. Before I’d completed the task, she guided the tip of my swollen cock between her upper thighs.

I lowered the waist of my slacks to just above my knees.

Still bent over at a ninety-degree angle, she pushed her weight against me. Her tight pussy slowly swallowed my rigid shaft until the entire length disappeared completely.

If her pussy were any smaller, sex between the two of us would be impossible. By the grace of God, all the pieces fell into place, leaving the two of us feeling like we were having sex for the first time each time we committed the act.

“Damn that feels good,” she announced.

I hated admitting it, but it felt heavenly.

“Fuck yes, it does,” I agreed.

Prepared to fuck her like she owed me money, I reached for her waist. As my hands came in contact with her smooth skin, she started bucking her hips like a mad woman.

With the pace of a jackhammer and the predictable rhythm of a well-written song, her ass came crashing against my thighs. The unmistakable sound of skin slapping skin filled the entryway.

Pressed firmly against the door, I had no option but to allow her to continue. I wasn’t accustomed to being on the receiving end of a woman’s sexual onslaught, but I wasn’t about to complain. It felt amazing.

Her twerking and bucking continued, never slowing in pace or losing authority. She was fucking me her way and I was enjoying every stroke.

A series of grunts and moans that couldn’t be confused as being anything but expressed sexual pleasure escaped each of us, overshadowing the sound of bare skin against bare skin.

The clap, clap, clapping of her hips against my thighs. Her tight pussy squeezing the length of my shaft with each stroke she took. The erotic moans…

Everything melded together.

Within a matter of minutes, I felt myself being sucked toward a climactic conclusion.

“Your. Cock. Feels. So. Good,” she said in perfect timing with the movement of her hips.

A bang! at the door caused my heart to nearly leap from my chest. Instantaneously, the door swung open, causing me to lose my balance.

With my slacks around my ankles and my cock pointing skyward, I stumbled through the opening, only to land against a half-clad Mica Weinberg.

She glanced at Anna, and then at my quickly shrinking hard-on.

“What. The fuck,” she gasped in clear disgust.

“What the fuck is right,” I snapped. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she retorted. “You’re supposed to be—”

I reached for my belt with one hand and gestured toward my house with the other. “Get your ass in the house.”

“Fuck you,” she spat.

She turned away and began parading across Anna’s yard, in the opposite direction of my home.

“God damn it Mica,” I complained, buckling my belt. “Get your ass back here.”