A month blurred into a haze of sweat, cum, and the kind of sex that leaves bruises shaped like fingerprints.We tried to be normal. We really did.
Took walks holding hands like a real couple. Went to the diner on the corner where the waitress still called us "sweetie" and "sport." But the second we were alone, clothes were weapons we used against each other.One night after mini-golf (yes, we actually played mini-golf), Jake dragged me into the windmill obstacle on the last hole. The fake grass smelled like chemicals and teenage desperation. He shoved my sundress up to my waist, ripped my lace thong clean off, and stuffed the soaked fabric in my mouth."Hold that," he growled, dropping to his knees.
He spread my pussy lips with his thumbs and spat on my clit before sucking it so hard my knees buckled. Two fingers twisted inside me, scissoring, while his tongue flicked fast and merciless. I came screaming into my own ruined panties, thighs shaking so bad he had to hold me up.He stood, spun me, bent me over the plastic windmill blade. My tits squished against the painted wood as he kicked my feet wider.
"Hands on the sails, Em. Don't fucking move them."I obeyed. He fed his cock into me slow, letting me feel every thick inch stretch me open. Then he gripped my hips and started fucking me like he hated me: short, vicious thrusts that punched the air from my lungs. The windmill creaked with every slam. His hand cracked across my ass in sharp, stinging slaps until my skin burned cherry red."Tell me who this pussy belongs to," he snarled, yanking my hair so my back arched.
"Y-you—fuck—Jake—"
"Louder. Let the whole fucking course hear who's breeding you."I screamed his name as he reached around and pinched my clit hard. My orgasm hit like a freight train; I squirted so hard it splashed his sneakers. He laughed, dark and filthy, and pounded deeper, forcing another one out of me before he finally let go. Hot cum flooded my cunt in thick pulses, dripping down my thighs when he pulled out just to watch it leak.We stumbled out giggling, my dress stuck to my legs with his cum, his handprint glowing on my ass under the neon lights.A week later he took me camping—"romantic," he said.
The second the tent was up he had me on my knees in the dirt, wrists zip-tied to the tent pole. He fucked my throat raw while crickets chirped around us. Spit and pre-cum dripped off my chin onto my bare tits. When he came he pulled out and painted my face, then used his cock to smear it across my lips like gloss."Leave it," he ordered when I reached to wipe it off. "Want you sticky with me all weekend."That night he tied me spread-eagle to the sleeping bags, ate my pussy until I sobbed, then fucked me so slow I felt every vein dragging along my walls. He kept stopping just before I came, kissing me soft and sweet, whispering, "I've loved you since we were eight years old, Em. Now I get to ruin you for the rest of your life."By Sunday I was so overstimulated I came just from him sliding two fingers inside me while we packed the car.We never slowed down.Quickies in his childhood treehouse—me bent over the railing while he railed me from behind, the wood creaking under us like it might collapse.In the back row of a movie theater—he made me cockwarm him through the entire film, clenching around him every time the bass dropped, until he finally bent me over the seat in front and fucked me so hard the row in front of us got up and left.On my parents' couch while they were upstairs—he ate me out with my legs over his shoulders, three fingers pumping, thumb in my ass, making me bite a pillow to stay quiet.Every single time he finished inside me he'd plug me with his fingers afterward, pushing the cum back in, whispering, "Gonna keep you full of me forever."I stopped wearing panties around him. Stopped pretending I didn't walk bow-legged half the time. Stopped caring that our friends side-eyed us when we disappeared for "five minutes" and came back forty later with my lipstick on his neck and his handprints on my throat.Jake never stopped telling me the truth.How he used to steal my gym shorts from the laundry basket and jerk off wrapped in them.
How he still had the Polaroid he took of me asleep at fifteen, mouth open, tank top riding up, and came on it more times than he could count.
How every girl he ever dated was just practice for the day he finally got to fuck the girl he'd been in love with since recess.And every time he said it, he proved it: bending me over the nearest surface, spreading me open, and fucking me until I forgot my own name.We weren't just dating.
We were making up for ten thousand nights he spent hard and aching for me while I slept ten feet away, clueless.Now every night ends the same:
My legs wrapped around his waist, his cock buried so deep it hurts, his mouth against my ear growling the words that break me every time."Mine, Em. Always