Page 8 of Big Girls Do It Wetter

"You're sexy." Jeff's fingers descended the plain of my belly to skim over the hillock of my pussy as he spoke, stroking the entrance with a single finger. "So goddamn sexy. Come for me, Anna."

I leaned back against the wall and out of the stream of water, spreading my thighs apart to allow him access. He was the perfect height to take me like this.

"Make me," I told him.

He didn't answer, just pressed his lips to the mound of one breast, lapped his tongue down the wet surface to flick against the taut bead of my nipple. I pressed my palm against his iron-hard neck, pushing his mouth deeper around my breast. His other finger continued the teasing exploration of my pussy, tracing the lines of the labia, tickling the crease between my leg and hip, dipping in between my thighs to streak across my perineum.

He penetrated me at last, one gentle, questing finger into my aching channel. I clenched my buttocks and arched my hips forward, and he skinned the inner walls with his finger before pulling out to furrow against the nub of my clit. I gasped as he touched me there, eyes closed and whispering "yes" with an inbreath. Two fingers then, slipping back in and exploring my pussy, retreating out, grazing my clit, and then three fingers.

My hips were moving, my hands gripping his cock as a handle, holding on to him as I pushed into his fingers. Pressure was rising, now, magma welling in my belly, surging up to ready for a volcanic eruption. His fingers stoked the heat, one finger in, curling to slash across my G-spot, eliciting a moan that echoed in the shower. Two fingers again, pulling out of my pussy to dovetail around my clit, pinching it, slipping back and forth.

His other hand was busy with my breasts, pinching and rolling my nipples, teeth now nipping the rippled skin of my areola, tongue laving the sides and across my chest and ribcage.

Finally he set a rhythm, three fingers diving in and back out, pressing onto my clit with every stroke. One small quiver in my belly at first, a buckle of the knees into his upstroke. My hands, slipping up and down on his manhood now, slow pumps around his swollen, straining head.

Another stutter, lower down, a swelling tremor pushed into a rolling waveform. Jeff sped the rhythm of his fingers' plunge, billowing the heaving of my hips into a desperate gyration. Then he slowed, just before the upwelling explosion overtook me.

"Faster, please, faster," I breathed.

He complied, surging faster, biting my nipples and using both hands on me now, two fingers circling my nub, three fingers diving in. My hips were moving on their own now, pulsing upward. My hands worked his shaft in time with my hips' motion, and then...

Every muscle buckled and tensed as my long-pent orgasm finally coursed through me, a rocketing surge of heat and ecstasy in my belly, pussy muscles clamping around his frenzied fingers, his mouth on my neck and lips and tits, my feet lifting me up and dropping me down.

"Inside," I gasped. "I need you...inside me."

"Don't have protection," he breathed against my breast.

"On...pill," I said. I couldn't form full sentences.

Jeff's arms curled up around my ass, and then one hand lifted my leg by the knee. I guided him into me, leaning into his body, the shower spray, growing lukewarm now, blasting against my neck and the top of his head. He pulsed into me, a slow, careful thrust.

"Goddamn, Anna. You're so tight."

I opened my mouth to tell him it was just because he was so huge, but he thrust again and I could only gasp, breathless, as my pussy stretched to fit him. My labia formed an 'O' of taut-stretched flesh, burning and throbbing so wonderfully, my orgasm still pounding through me, constricting my inner muscles around his thick, slick member.

His thrusts timed with the contracting pulsations of my orgasm.

"Oh god, Jeff, yes..." I scraped the words past rasping vocal chords.

Every fiber of my being quivered; my eyelids fluttered, my thighs trembled, my fingers clawed down his broad back, my toes curled in, my breath caught on an inbreath and held; a plunge, and I came again, riding the crest of the last explosion, another plunge, and I came again, clutching to Jeff with all my waning strength.

He never sped his thrusts, held himself to slow, measured pushes, going deeper with each one.

"Anna." He grated my name past clenched teeth as he came, thrusting hard and deep to the rhythm of my name. Two syllables, a full thrust inward on the initial emphasis, our hips bumping together on the 'N', retreating on the outbreath 'A'.

I felt his seed hit my inner walls, felt him throb within me as he continued to come, and come and come, lips crushed to my shoulder. He held my leg firm around his hip all the while, pulled on my knee for leverage, his free hand roaming my torso, breast to belly and back up, fingering my hypersenstive nipples.

The water was going cold now, and he finally let my leg down and pulled out of me. I shut the water off and pulled him against me, curling into his heat, our damp skin sticking together, our breathing matched gasps.

He moved away first, pulled a thick white towel from a rack and spread it open, drew me out of the shower. What he did next made my breath hitch. He scrubbed every inch of my body with the towel, beginning with my shoulders and moving down my back, across my belly, around each breast, my arms and sides, then my buttocks and thighs, down my legs and back up. The last thing he did was gently spread my thighs apart and clean my tender folds, wiping carefully downward and in to clean me of his still-leaking essence, his touch featherlight and almost reverent.

I couldn't help but do the same. Another dry towel hung on the rack, and I rubbed it across his muscles, cupping his sack and massaging his flaccid member with it. It was a moment both tender and erotic, and I didn't know what to do with it.

I followed him to his bedroom, a tiny space filled with a queen-sized bed and a low dresser, and nothing else. No pictures, no posters or paintings or anything. The window was open, letting the brilliant noonday sunlight stream in, bathing everything yellow-white. The bed was neatly made already, the corners crisp, the blanket tucked in under the pillow in a line as straight as razor. On the dresser was a wide, shallow metal dish, filled with loose change, a single bullet shell, and a battered set of dog tags.

I sat on the edge of the bed, naked, still trembling from the aftershocks. Jeff stood in front of me, looking down at me with an inscrutable expression on his face. He was just out of arm's reach, hands at his sides, his posture relaxed, but his gaze was intense, focused on me, sweeping and searching.

"What?" I asked.