Tell Me You Love Me Ch. 02

"I'm so hot," I said. I couldn't believe I'd said it.

"You're the hottest girl in town."

"God, I"m so fucking hot. Don't you want me?"

"Every day. On the court."

"Did you-" I panted. "Did you see me bend down?"

"Yes."

"I'm so wet for you. I wanted you to fuck me."

"I am fucking you."

"Whenever you want," I said. "Do me right now. Do me right now, Aidan." Tom lifted me up, driving his cock higher and harder inside me. It hurt, it did hurt; deep inside my uterus it hurt but around the outer edges of my vulva I squeezed my pussy closed around him and let him pick me up and push me down on the couch. Now Aidan was on top of me and fucking me against the sofa. I threw my legs out over his hips.

"What else do you want?" he said.

"I want your cock!" I screamed. I remember this even today: I screamed it like it was some sort of right, like he owed it to me, like he was constitutionally bound to give it to me. Tom took that as a cue to fuck me deeper, harder. My skirt was hiked up as far as it would go and my tits were bouncing against his chest and we were still making out, practically slobbering over each other. I hadn't fucked that furiously since I was in high school. "Slower!" I suddenly commanded.

And, to my great surprise, he did. Tom pressed me so far into the sofa that I could barely breathe, then he slowly retreated, pulling it out of me until it was just to the edge and then inserting it, inch by velvet inch, back into me, back into the tightness of my vagina.

I felt like I was thinking only from the warm spot between my legs (or more like the warm spot inside my belly). I wanted to say things; it kept it exciting; it made me horny.

"You're so big, Mr. Brighart," I groaned.

"Slower?"

"Yes..." I sighed. "I won't tell your wife..."

"Don't tell your boyfriend."

"I won't," I said. I played along with him. It was fun and I was horny. I squeezed my arms against the back of his neck. I squeezed my whole body up against him actually so that he had to work his hips just to pull back far enough to push back inside me. I curled up on him as tightly as I could. "I masturbate to you," I heard myself whisper.

"Every night."

"Every night," I whispered. "I feel so dirty..."

"You're not dirty."

"No?"

"You're perfect."

"Ah. Ah!" Tom had, by accident or design, rubbed against my G spot. My right foot curled spasmodically against his naked ass. "Tell me how pretty I am." I don't know why I said it. But I would find, as Tom paid me for sex again and again, that our arrangement was, despite so many worrying things, one in where I could be, for once, completely vain. And Tom encouraged it. I think it's what he wanted from the beginning.

"You're perfect."

"Do you like my tits?"

Tom bent down and suckled at my left tit as if it would give him milk. For a moment, I wished I could.

"Te-l-l me-e-e..." I stuttered as Tom dug into me. He pulled out and flipped me around. He bent me over the arm of the couch and crouched behind me. He came in from behind and he went very, very deep. "Yah!" I cried. I grabbed the arm rest to steady myself.

"When I see you in the gym," he said (he was Tom now, definitely, but I imagined it was Aidan), all I can do is think of you naked." He grabbed my shoulder and pushed into me. I dug the heels of my feet into the cushions and rose to meet him.

"Go toward my front," I intoned, trying to get him back to my G spot. I bent up like a bridge so that the underside of his cock glanced the front of my vagina. He reached forward and cupped my breast. "Tell me how fucking pretty I am," I groaned.

"I think of how long you must have spent in the gym." God, he was working it out of me. I felt his cockhead spring as far into my body as he could go and pull out, and pull out, and pull out. My juices dribbled down my thighs. "I think of how proud you must be." He let out a deep groan. My pussy was squeezing against him and I didn't think he'd last longer. "I think of how proud any woman would be, to look like you." His skin was bulging. His balls swatted my ass cheeks. "Tell me how proud you are," he said.

His dick pried my legs apart. "I'm proud..." I admitted. He pushed farther in. I clenched every muscle in my body and squeezed my hands against the sofa rest. My tits squashed into the couch.

"Say it again."

"I'm proud," I groaned. He pushed his hips into my ass and my legs were literally straight as I pushed against him. If Aidan had fucked me like this I would have fainted.

"Say it again."

The base of his cock suddenly ground against the front of my G spot and I let out a deep, throaty moan. "You made me cum," I said, shocked.

He pushed against it again and my legs shook uncontrollably. "Say it."

"I'm-"

"Not that."

"Oh." I grasped the sofa and bowed my head. "Tell me you love me," I whispered. I remembered what he wanted to hear. The orgasm was actually building in me. It didn't stop with him hitting my G spot. It was radiating out from where his dick penetrated my pussy. "Tell me you love me," I said.

"I love you," he said as if rolling a massive stone across his back. I felt his balls bulge and his semen come.

"Pull out and push in," I panted as he came. He complied, pulling it back and shoving it in. Together we gasped and moaned like two teenagers in heat, letting out painful and loud grunts and gasps, things I couldn't even spell, words that weren't words, moans. I remember repeating the word "dick" a lot. Tom grabbed my ass. He grabbed my tits.

Then he pulled me back, pulled me off the arm rest so that I was sitting on his cock with him behind me. He opened his legs and I sat on his thighs and he pulled my face toward his and started to kiss me. I really shouldn't have, but I just let it happen. His dick continued to squeeze and throb between my legs, and that in turn just plowed up into my body, the lust overriding my better judgement. I wanted his tongue in my mouth; I didn't care if he was Aidan or Tom. But he certainly wasn't Bobby. Bobby didn't kiss me like that and Bobby would never fuck me like that. I wouldn't want him to. It was too raw. My stomach shivered when he touched me.

He'd paid me, and that was dirty, and it turned me on. He made me fantasize in front of him, on top of him, had fucked me while I thought about my high school tennis coach, and that was dirty, and it turned me on. He flat out told me that he thought about me naked when I was in the gym, and that turned me on, and that turned me on.

I moaned into his mouth when he reached forward and started fingering my clit while he continued to cum. It didn't do much; I had already orgasmed and it was still working its way through me; but the extra stimulation, while a little painful, made my legs relax. His dick throbbed.

I pulled off the kiss. "Get out of me," I rasped. "I don't want you to cum in accidentally." I was too exhausted to make the grammar work. He reached for my face again and I batted him off. "No," I said breathlessly. I grasped the edge of the sofa by opening my arms and digging my feet into the couch. I pulled myself up and waited while he held the condom over the base of his cock and gingerly pulled it out. He wasn't totally hard anymore but he was still a long way from soft. "Is there..." I asked.

"I think it's fine," he said. "Will you let me know if..."

We sat on the sofa, both of us covered in a profuse layer of sweat. "If what?" I said.

"If you don't have your period."

"God..." I got up off the sofa and threw my top over my head. It was soaked. I unbuttoned my skirt and wormed out of it.

"Will you let me clean you?" he asked. I looked at his face. My lipstick was smeared all over his mouth and chin. Some red had even stained his nose.

"No," I said automatically. "I just want to... I have to..." I didn't know what I wanted. There wasn't anything wrong with enjoying the sex, I supposed. But that made it less like a job and more like -

He accepted this and got up off the couch. He went into the downstairs bathroom and I heard the shower start. I gathered up my clothes and went up the stairs. I showered again. I got dressed again. When I was finished I went downstairs and Tom was waiting there, his hair wet, stupid smile on his face.

"Thank you," he said. "Are you all right?"

I nodded.

He nodded and went over to his bag, lifted it up and over his shoulder and then grabbed his helmet. He turned back to me at the door. "I didn't think you'd go for round two," he said.

"I want my own place."

He regarded me coolly, measuring me, storing me in my big shirt and shorts for future reference. "It's nice having your own place," he said with uncharacteristic casualness. "It isn't easy these days."

I crossed my arms over my stomach and scratched my foot with my toes. I wasn't sure if we were making small talk or if he wanted to ask me something. But he'd fucked me twice now and didn't seem like a crazy person. I could have been wrong, obviously, but I was still in a good, mellow place from my orgasm. I realized in the shower that I hadn't cum in months. And I wasn't sure when I'd ever cum like that. So I was in a friendly mood.

"A thousand dollars is a lot to drop in one month," I said. "Not that I'm complaining," I added.

He gave me a wry half-smile. "If I told you you were worth it would that make you feel objectified?"

"Uh, yeah," I said. "I don't know if I even want to pursue that subject."

"Honestly," he said, "I really didn't want you to say yes that first time. And even then I figured it would just be the first and only time."

"Didn't think I could go through with it?"

"Didn't think I could handle you."

I rolled my eyes. "Uh huh. But, I feel like I should know this, how... where's the money come from? I'm sorry if you told me already where you work."

He opened the door. "The less we know about each other's personal lives the better. It keeps this professional."

"Alright," I said, opening my hands in a peace gesture. He stepped outside and turned back around to look at me. He wouldn't stop looking at me, actually. It was like he was afraid I'd disappear.

"In two weeks," he said. "Should I expect you?"

"Uh, yeah," I said, nodding. Yes, he could. I would. "Do you want me to...wear anything?"

"Do what you did today," he said. He pulled my hairbrush out of his bag and stepped inside to slide it back over the table. "You don't need to bring me anything." He stepped outside and walked down the path. He gave me a wave over his shoulder and mounted up on his motorcycle. "Thanks again." Then he was gone in a loud burst of exhaust.

I breathed deeply and let out a long sigh. Well, I thought, easiest grand I ever made. Tom may have been a pervert, but he was a polite one, I'd give him that.