This is an excerpt from a series of stories of mine I wrote for a publisher who disappeared off the face of the planet and which I’ve been wanting to revisit since that venture fell through. I hope you guys enjoy it! Any and all feedback is very much appreciated.
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All the talk of Alan has Heather dreamily thinking about the boy for the rest of Saturday and well into church on Sunday morning. His family sits a few rows ahead of them and so she gets the pleasure of admiring his head of curly dark hair and when he glances around the pleasant shape of his face and those blue eyes and–
Yes, it’s puppy love. That’s what her mom calls it. But it’s been puppy love for a year. Well, on-and-off. Sure, there’s been other boys when they were on ‘break,’ dinner dates and movie nights and totally romantic kisses on her porch before they leave, but still, her heart just always comes back to Alan. And since she’s been thinking about the fact that Jeff Carter might possibily have a thing for her, she’s been a bit on.. edge. There’s a familiar warmth in her loins and a desire for satisfaction that her fingers simply can’t find.
Oh, sure. Heather’s sexually active but she’s not a slut, she tells herself. Alan’s really the only boy she’s gone all the way with and they waited months before even getting to second base. He told her after the fact that it was torture because of the way she dresses.
Maybe Anna and Nikki are onto something with the whole men are pigs theory.
It’s hard to do without her parents finding out but Heather, a professional, manages to sneak her phone out in the middle of service and sends a quick text to her kind-of boyfriend.
*r u as bored as i am???*
Church has never Heather’s favorite. It’s hot and stuffy and smells like old people. It’s dull.
She sees Alan perk up when the text goes through. She watches him look to his left at his parents to make sure their attention is elsewhere.
A smile stretches across her plump, full lips. He’s so cute.
Brrzt!
*god yes want OUTTT*
Poor baby, Heather thinks.
*meet me outside in 10?*
*srsly?*
*SRSLY!!*
Heather fakes stomach pains and whispers to her parents that she’s going to run to the restroom real quick. Her mom and dad, so haplessly oblivious, just smile and nod and tell her to get back before ‘the good part.’
Whatever part that is, Heather is determined not to find out.
She sneaks out around the outside of the pews and makes a quick exit into the main lobby. Instead of turning right for the restrooms, though, she makes a beeline for the front door and sighs a sigh of relief when the warm Texas sun hits her in full force. See, church wouldn’t be so bad if they did it outside. Heather could live with that.
Her and Alan have a ‘spot.’ It’s around the left of the building by this old oak tree that’s just far enough away from the road that people can’t really see you. That’s where Heather heads now, reaching out a hand to touch the old gnarled bark of her favorite spot in town.
So, so, so, so, so many memories.
It doesn’t take long for Alan to join her. He becomes walking fast around the corner of the church, sparing a quick glance over his shoulder that makes Heather laugh.
He’s a dork, sure, but he’s her dork.
“You look awesome,” Alan says as he walks up to her.
Heather has to admit, she sort of does. She doesn’t wear tank tops and short shorts to church and instead dons this breezy white dress that shows the top of her sun-kissed chest and maybe just an inch too much of her thighs to be deemed proper for a school dance. She always feels kind of like a princess in it.
“You look pretty handsome yourself, Mr. Alan Taylor,” she says with a warm smile as she beckons him more towards the old oak.
He gets the message.
The two meet under the sprawling branches of the tree and embrace at once like there’s no time to waste which, really, there isn’t. The reason Heather likes this spot so much is because the danger of getting caught is kind of a thrill to her. She doesn’t know just how much that thrill will guide her later in life yet but right now, it’s what drives her to press her lips to Alan’s and to allow him to clumsily slide his tongue into her mouth.
His hands never seem to know what to do with themselves when they get like this and it’s an endearing quality that Heather has come to love. First, he’s gripping her ribs just a hair too hard and then he’s sliding them down to where her midsection curves inwards and then he’s clawing at her womanly hips. Heather doesn’t deny him, though. She presses her body hard to his and swings her arms around his neck, holding him captive with their kiss while he grips, grabs and squeezes anywhere he wants.
It makes her feel hot. For someone to want her so much that he just sort of loses control of what to do with his limbs.
She wonders if Jeff Carter..
No, no. Alan Taylor is who she should be thinking about right now and so that’s who she places on the forefront of her mind.
“Sit down, Alan,” she whispers against his lips. “I got a surprise for you.”
The boy doesn’t hesitate to do as he’s told, sliding down to the base of the old oak tree and sitting with his back against it and his legs sprawled out. He looks up at Heather with reddened cheeks and a mouth that’s slightly agape and it makes her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world to captivate his attention in such a way.
She does a little dance for him, shaking her hips and swaying her arms, but it’s mostly just in good fun and not really intended to elicit anything more than a laugh, which he provides. Then, feeling too hot in the dress, she all at once reaches down and grabs the hem and yanks it up overhead, pulling it off entirely in one swift motion and dropping it gently on the grass to be picked up later.
If Alan’s jaw could drop any lower than it already was, it would. Mainly because his kind-of girlfriend isn’t wearing anything beneath the dress.
Naked, Heather is a vision of tan skin and small but perky breasts topped with pink nipples that, right now, are hard enough to cut diamonds. Her tummy is toned and her hips are wide and her pussy is meaty, labia parting just slightly to show the hot pink folds that, if Alan plays his cards right, he’ll be feeling soon enough. There’s not a hair in sight, the girl a wizard with a razor.
“Pants?”
The playful suggestion causes Alan to jerk back to the land of the living and the boy does as he’s bid, undoing his belt and his slacks and pushing them down, along with his underwear. Heather is very happy to see he’s already hard when his cock swings up to greet her.
Wordlessly, she’ll lower herself to the ground and crawl forward between his legs, doing it slowly with her ass raised higher than the rest of her while the fantasy of maybe a peeping Tom looking on them plays in her head. Maybe Jeff Carter, even, out on a morning stroll and just happening across this scene with the Taylor boy and his newest employee. With that idea in mind she adds a bit more sway to her hips and parts her thighs just a little more than she normally might.
Though considering herself a good Christian girl, Heather does appreciate a good dick and she feels Alan has one of those. It’s kind of long and thick enough that it’s a good handful if she wraps her fingers around it and there’s this pleasant upward curve to it that hits the right spot when he’s on top. She wishes he’d shave more of his pubic hair but, oh well. Boys will be boys.
“Christ, Heather..”
She crawls right up to his member and pauses, a little smile on her lips as she looks, first, at the swollen mushroom head of his cock and then upwards at Alan himself, beads of sweat already forming on the boy’s brow. Still watching him, craving that attention, Heather leans in and tenderly presses her full lips in a tender kiss against the underside of his crown. The sound he makes as she does so is pure music to her ears and encourages her to continue.
Heather’s eyes divert downward to focus on her work. Her right-hand snakes up and her fingers wrap around the base of Alan’s prick and with a gleeful expression she gives him a few experimental jerks, eyeing the way the head swells when she squeezes just a bit too hard. If this is what a boy’s cock is like, she can only imagine a man’s.
Then, she kisses him again. This time fully on the tip and with her tongue snaking out to tease at the little hole present there. In one swift motion, her plump lips then envelop the head and she feels his burning glans flatly against her tongue. He tastes salty, a flavor she’s grown to quite like. Still not looking at him she begins to gently slither her tongue around the head of his cock, lavishing it with the attention she feels it deserves and only encouraged by the heavy breathing going on above her.
Another inch enters her mouth, then another. When half of his cock has disappeared in her gullet, Heather slowly begins to rise and fall, fucking her mouth with his prick, her plump lips tighter than a pussy and her tongue doing things a vagina could only dream of. Her hand covers where she can’t reach and she strokes him with slow twisting motions, something she learned from watching way too much internet porn.
Her nostrils flare. Her pace quickens. She can taste his pre-come and feel it, too, coating her tongue. Part of her wants to finish him this way, to just bring him to climax with her mouth and hand and she could find pride in that, sure.
But then she thinks of the hardware store and a much older man checking her out and paying her a lot more money just because she’s pretty and for some reason, that makes her need it.
Heather’s mouth leaves Alan’s cock with a wet pop! and she looks up at him, lips glistening in a happy grin. She gives a few more tugs of his manhood – quicker, harder, more desperate – then lets him go entirely to leave the shaft twitching.
By her estimate, they’ve been gone for ten minutes. She really only needs five more, though.
The girl climbs Alan like he’s the old oak he’s leaned against, straddling his lap with her hands on his shoulder and her tits hanging just out of reach of his mouth. Her stomach is arched towards him and the heat radiating off her flesh hits him in the face. He looks like she’d let him do anything right now and Heather intends to do just that.
The same hand that had been gleefully stroking him now snakes down her toned stomach and between her thighs, to gently cup her sex. It burns. For a moment she allows herself just the pleasure of holding herself and then, not wanting to waste time, she uses her index and ring finger to splay her folds wide.
That action alone elicits a very wet *squelch*.
Alan’s a good boy and as such, he holds his cock straight upward for her to land on. She misses, once, sliding his cock up against her bare genitals. Then, again, she almost has him pierce the wrong hole. But third time’s the charm and Heather’s head gently falls back as she lets out a hot moan when she feels her velvety folds suddenly parted by his thick head.
She fucks just that for a while, bouncing up and down about a half-inch, then she feels herself needing more to quell the fires burning in her loins. She sinks lower, her narrow tunnel stretching to accommodate the intruding organ. Her lips part in a sharp moan that part of her hopes no one heard and another part hopes someone did.
Again, she fucks just the few inches she has in her, then sinks lower still, and lower, and suddenly, her wet lips kiss the base of his cock and she’s able to relax and just heave a deep breath.
Being penetrated is one of Heather’s favorite feelings. It’s not so much the sensation of stretching as it is being stretched. When she’s hot and horny she feels empty and hollow and with a cock in her she fulls full and content. Alan’s seems made for her, too. That slight upward curve of his shaft has the flared bit of his head brushing against her g-spot every time and when she gets into a proper rhythm she can usually come in just a few short minutes.
Silk meeting iron is the best way she can describe it.
Her mind is everywhere and nowhere at once. First, it’s on Alan, his cheeks beet red and his eyes glazed over and his mouth hanging open. Then it’s on the hardware store, that feeling of crossing and uncrossing her legs in the office and having Jeff follow every movement.
Christ.
Heather begins to ride Alan slowly. Up, up, up until his head is just a faint memory in her tunnel and then down, down, down so she can remind herself of the glorious sensation of being stuffed. She repeats this over and over, her breath rising in speed and weight, her chest heaving. Her hands reach out and touch the bark of the oak tree to keep herself steady.
How about when he first looked at her? He seemed transfixed by her thighs and her breasts. Like it never occurred to him before than a girl could look so good. Why is she even thinking about that when she’s riding Alan?
“Ooh!”
It hits her all at once without warning. There’s this aching and pulsing between her legs like her heart has relocated to her groin. Her skin is tingly and hot and beads of sweat form on her brow as her hips rise and fall. Her breath hitches and then, finally, a huge wave hits her, starting in her loins but then washing over the entirety of her body. Her fingers dig into the old oak tree. Her toes curl. She doesn’t realize it at the time but she’s whining with the intensity of her orgasm and below her, Alan is just in awe at the sight.
It’s never felt this good, she thinks. Ever.
She can’t speak. She can’t breathe. She arches her head back to it’s breaking point and just wants to scream but manages to hold it back. Her cunt squeezes Alan’s prick like a vise as it contracts and milks out every ounce of pleasure it can from his organ. Then, when it subsides, when the overwhelming pleasure wracking her body lowers itself to a manageable throb, she collapses against her kind-of boyfriend with her head against his shoulder and his dick still pegged inside her.
“H-Heather?” He asks after a short while, patting her on the back.
Words. English. Voice. Speaking. What’s that? All she can think about is the explosion of color she saw in the moment she came.
“Heather, they’re letting church out.”
Crap. She jerks up off of Alan and his cock leaves her with a generous ***pop!*** and when she’s upright on the shaky legs of a baby giraffe she has to stop and just.. admire. The boy’s prick is soaked, coated thickly in her own girlcum and his lap, too. The bottom of his shirt is noticeably wet.
“Did you.. come?” She asks.
“U-uh. No. That’s.. that’s all you, heh.” Alan says, gesturing to the mess.
“Oh. Uhm. Sorry, Jeff. Alan. Next time, okay? I’ll even let you come on my.. my butt or something!”
There isn’t much time to think about getting him off right now. Instead, she’s yanking her dress back on and trying to make the heat leave her body but it refuses. She doesn’t need a mirror to know she’s bright red.
Heather spares one more glance to the mess she’s made and unconsciously bites her lower lip. Dang, she thinks, and that’s all she has time to think before she’s racing off to meet her parents at the church entrance, already coming up with an excuse.
She just stepped outside to get some.. air. Right. That’s it.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/zjpobo/f18m18_sundays_are_for_church