Devil In The Waters, Book 3, Chapter 9 (complete) (Patreon)

Eyes turned up to the ceiling now, Kimmy’s kisses crossed his collar, down his chest, the point of his erection catching on her bra then bouncing up to fall warm against her bare chest. She kissed his belly, worked her mouth down to his cock then took him fully, right inside her mouth all the way until he felt her tongue flatten on his scrotum. His legs shook, he sighed a long moan.

Kimmy pleasured him, but that ceiling above him, that white stucco space, was like a screen for an awful film projection. Kimmy with Devlin today. All day. His worst nightmare come to life. All the chances he had to stop it, and he never got in the way. Now he was sure that Kimmy had fucked him. Or Devlin had fucked her.

Thinking now of her jumping in bare feet, wearing her sexy suit, the long blades of muscle in her calves flexing as she went up and down on the balls of her pretty feet . . . The way her hands clutched between her thighs. Thinking now how her pussy would be ravaged. How that thing of Devlin’s he’d seen—whether real or not—plunging in and out of her. Kimmy was tall but slight. A thin girl who was tight on Josh’s size. And even if dream-Devlin wasn’t real, he’d seen what Devlin had many times before. Knew that what he pictured in that tent at the high school reunion wouldn’t be far off . . . 

“No, Kimmy, no,” he said despite the overwhelming pleasure. Eyes closed, shaking his head, he dipped down, took Kimmy under her arms, helped her to stand. She was unsure, maybe a little worried, wondering why on earth he would stop her from doing something like that. On her knees for her husband. She wiped at her blubbery lips with the back of her hand, trembling pupils on his darting side-to-side. He gripped her arms tightly, pulled her into a kiss.

“I fucking love you so much,” he said before their mouths connected, and he took the slickness of her lips in his mouth. She gave him her tongue, and he could taste the salt from his own manhood. It was pressed now against her stomach, slippery with her spit, sliding from side to side against her.

The grip he had on her arms eased, slid down her forearms and gripped her wrists. His right hand touched her hip then lay flat on her stomach. Their tongues worked together as he dove his hand down the front of her panties. Kimmy gasped into his mouth and her knees sagged. His hand wove through the tuft of her pubic hair and into the warm wet flesh between her legs with a slick sound. Kimmy was sopping in a way he couldn’t ever remember feeling before. Overflowing. But overflowing for him. He ran two fingers through the hot folds of her membranes, back and forward, finding her opening and teasing into her. But Kimmy didn’t complain, didn’t close her legs and tell him no. She didn’t say “Ow,” or “I just want to suck your cock,” she pushed her hips forward, but she wanted him.

He pushed fingers inside her and still no testament to soreness emanated from her perfect mouth. Two fingers slid inside her with ease. The tightness was there, but his wife was so wet he might be able to put anything inside her right now. He fucked her with his middle fingers, and Kimmy fell against him, her legs shaking, her hands caressing him. “You’re so wet,” he said.

“I want you bad,” she said.

“Come on,” he said and they turned aside together, both of them putting knees on the bed. They knee-walked, looking to head toward the pillows, and Kimmy got ahead of him on all fours. He flicked aside her kimono and saw her bare ass cheeks under the black embroidered scoop of her panties. The strap of her garter ran across the hard taut flesh and he groaned at the sight. This was his wife. This was the girl he loved since high school. The one he first kissed in 11th grade and pined over when she went away to Taiwan for the summer. The one he stayed in constant contact with until they officially dated the second year at Queens. The one who’d been in his bed for years. Stood on the altar and said “I do.” Here in bed with him now. She was his. There was danger for sure. But what she showed him now was honest and real. This wasn’t an act. There were all sorts of awful things he could think of (and he would indulge if he liked, because, for whatever reason, it made him hard) . . . Like maybe Kimmy was so wet right now because she liked sitting in the car with Devlin. His $150,000 roadster, probably watching his hand on the transmission, sitting there for hours . . . what did they talk about? What had they done all day? It wasn’t all work. It couldn’t be. They’d been together . . . And now she was wet. But in his bed.

He grabbed her hips to stop her crawling. She paused, tossing a look over her shoulder at him. He ran his hand over the small of her back feeling the silk of her skin, watching her respond to his touch. The sway of her hips, her eagerness . . . 

It had to be now; he ran a finger under the crescent hem of her panties, down where they thinned between her legs, found the slickness against the back of his finger were she was a woman, tugged the panties aside, curled over her back, and pushed himself inside her. Kimmy let out a low appreciative moan, turning her face up, him watching over her shoulder seeing her eyes close, a natural flutter in her eyelids. It was pleasure. Kimmy wanted him inside her. And she didn’t cry out as if she’d been pummeled today by Devlin’s much larger size. She was tight on him, wet, overflowing wet, but tight as ever . . . 

“God,” he said, “You feel so good . . .”

Kimmy said, “You’re so hard, Josh, oh my God, you’re so hard . . .”

And if he thought he couldn’t get harder, he was wrong.

He said, “You make me hard, you make me so hard,” caressing her throat, beginning to stroke in and out of her.

She sighed, “You feel so big . . .”

Those words went across him like a slap and a backhand. Hurt, angst. Pride, too, waking him with her honest expression and appreciation of how hard he was. He was harder and therefore bigger than normal. True, but at the very best, Kimmy had seen Devlin’s bulge for real. That was true because she told him. And he wasn’t big. Not small, but definitely not to be confused with big. Kimmy knew what big was. Had seen it, even if just through a pair of pants. And she’d been with that man today, and if she got wet for that man, like he imagined, she considered his size. It was certain. Kimmy was thinking of her husband’s size because she’d been thinking of Devlin’s much larger size today.

Now he was wild with passion. Up on his knees, gripping the very narrow and tight waist of his wife and pounding into her hard from behind until the crotch of her panties burned the left side of his steely erection. He was twisted with hurt and wonder and jealousy and rage, but over top of it all was a low-oxygen high-altitude love for the most incredible woman who’d been with him for so long. Love for her, but worse: a love for her sex compartmentalized, individualized and separate from how he knew her. Fucking her pussy now like it was a separate thing. Like his cock was a separate presence in the room, now what she had between her legs was divided from who he knew her as a woman.

It was pure biological pleasure. Hard thundering cock plowing in and out of soft velvety succulent woman flesh . . . 

***

Josh had never before been as savage as this. She needed it this way right now.

It was awful, but this position with her husband was one she’d already fantasized about with Devlin. Impersonal and sex-focused, it was a way to part care and compassion from animal lust. This was the way Devlin would take her. Face hidden away, uncaring, hoggish, getting only the one thing she wanted from Devlin. And never knew she wanted.

It would be only one time. One time for real. In Devlin’s car outside her gym didn’t count. That wasn’t sex—even though they both came, that was still just fooling around. Even today, that wasn’t sex . . . One time she would have sex with Devlin. It would be done, Devlin could be pushed off, separated, he’d find some other girl and a year from now she and Josh would have money in the bank, on their way to their future, and the thing Amy’d teased her about would be done and forgotten.

And now at the most inopportune time, the awful incident with Amy: the two of them bracing her unsteady husband at Tiffany’s party, Amy looking away while Kimmy got Josh’s penis out so he could pee—and found her husband erect. Saying to Amy her husband had a boner then both of them laughing. Her holding his penis, Josh’s stream spritzing, sputtering, sprinkling the bushes. Amy’s giggle. Looking over to find Amy peeking, eyes on Kimmy’s fingers aiming Josh’s penis. Amy saying, Aw, poor Kimmy, you had your chance and now look what you’re stuck with.

Josh’s grip on her sides was tight, his thrusts hard. She’d closed her eyes tight enough now to set sparkles behind her eyes. Her face twisted in the sheets, enjoying her husband, and hating the fantasy of another man. Josh was hard as iron right now. Uncomfortable, almost. His penis stabbed into her. Devlin didn’t stab, he bludgeoned. They didn’t have sex but she knew what it felt like to have her insides filled. Knew what it would feel like when he put it in you for real. He wouldn’t poke, he would devastate.

One time . . . just one time with him, and then it would be done.

There was still time to turn back, but she couldn’t deny her lust had been provoked.

Everybody messes around, Devlin had said. And it was true. Just one time, that was all.

Play only. No sex. That had been the rule—but today at the Port she’d opened her legs for Devlin. He’d got her hotter than she’d ever been in her whole life—aftershocks all afternoon—and she’d told him to put his big sperm covered cock inside her without a condom—what were you thinking? . . . what was it about Devlin that was so irresistible. God, the way he made her come . . . 

And now she pictured the huge plump head of Devlin's cock as it had stroked at her opening today, covered in slick saliva and semen, so huge but both of them well-lubricated and ready . . . 

***

“Harder,” Kimmy said, her words widening his unseeing eyes.

The room spun; a hazy, topsy-turvy boat on choppy waters. “Harder,” he agreed, tightening his stomach and pounding her.

“Deeper, Josh, God, oh deeper . . .”

Now he exhaled, somehow hurt but liberated—because that was exactly what he wanted to hear right now. “You . . . want it . . . deeper?” His words came individually, animal grunts.

“Deeper, Josh, harder, mm, deeper . . .”

“Ah, Kimmy, you feel so good . . .”

She was tight, her grip on him squeezing with eagerness; he was sure she was flexing her stomach and ass, trying to crush his cock as it speared in and out. The pleasure was bewildering. His own stomach tightened and he felt the first tickle of orgasm.

“Josh,” she said, gasping, then hissing: “Don’t stop, don’t stop . . .”

“Ah,” he said, biting his lip, fucking her harder, feeling the pressure rise, “I’m not . . . ah, no, no condom . . .”

“Don’t stop,” she cried, “Deeper, Josh, deeper . . .”

Harder was all he could manage.

And now it was all over. Him fucking his wife hard from behind, his wife acting wild in bed in such a crazy unfamiliar way. He lost his grip on control, and the orgasm swelled within him to bursting.

“I’m going to . . . mm, come . . .”

Kimmy made a disappointed moan, then clucked her tongue—it stabbed him in the heart, but did nothing to squash the sexual explosion already under way. He wanted to apologize—wanted to go deeper and harder, too, but it wasn’t going to happen. He said, “Your pill . . .” Meaning: had it taken effect yet?

“Don’t stop, oh, don’t . . .”

Kimmy stretched out now, lowering her cheek to the bed, putting her arms above her head and he watched her long graceful hands grab the pillows where they lay their heads at night. They formed shaking fists, and the lamp light winked a star off of her diamond ring. Completely his. So completely his. Smart, beyond smart, sexy, honest, completely his . . . 

“I’m going to come in-inside you . . .”

She gasped, said: “Do it—come inside me, do it,” and now she began rocking on her knees, thrusting her sex back at him, and as the pressure overflowed from his testicles and they rolled up inside his body, he thought again of her thrusting back wanting that male penetration deeper (wider, bigger, harder) and he came in a wicked overloaded generator flash of white hot electric passion.

He grunted, bolted, hands slipping off her, falling with his chest over her back, as incredible overwhelming love for Kimmy burst bright behind his eyes. He came, and spurted inside her, stabbing, humping, his cock popping out, seeing underneath her a dashing line of his semen land in the bedding. He pushed it back in and she let out a satisfied moan, pushed back to get him in her his deep as he could go.

They collapsed together on the bed, him falling at her side, Kimmy rolling to her back. He watched her gasping profile, those pouting lips open but squeezing into an oval shape over and over, chuffing air. She was fingering herself.

On her back with knees up, feet flat on the bed, Kimmy sought more pleasure like he hadn’t satisfied her. Her high heeled shoes had fallen off and lay on the bed, one upright the other on its side. He looked at her stocking toes curling, her knees bowing in and out, one hand shoved in the front of her panties, the other hand holding her own wrist. He watched two knuckles dent up and down under the embroidered fabric.

“No, Kimmy,” he said, “me, let me . . .”

He pushed his hand into her panties, she brought her hands up. The inside of her panties were a sopping mess, his semen leaking out of her, her own juices overflowing enough to make a shine on her stomach. He pushed two fingers inside her, then three, thrusting them in and out and watching her face. It was what she wanted, and now her stomach tucked in and her ribs pressed out against her skin. God, she was so beautiful.

“Get me off, Josh, please, oh, get me off . . .”

Her face twisted from side to side, her pony tail tangling; she folded both forearms over her face, scissored them tight on either side of her head, hiding her face away, gasping and crying soft mewling sounds.

She bucked when she came, jumping in the bed, one leg shooting out straight.

“Take off these things . . . these garters,” he said, talking quick and desperate.

She heaved breath, eyes fluttering open, looking around the room. He still fingered her with deep slow plunging.

Kimmy thumbed open the clasps that held her stockings, and he got on his knees, began yanking her panties down her legs. He got them off, and collapsed on top of her. She closed her legs on his waist. His cock was just as hard as when they began.

“Yes,” she said, “yes, put it in, God, I need it . . .”

Her legs tightened around him as he hip-guided the point of his erection into her hungry opening. He went in with no resistance, and her pussy squelched with his entry.

His eyes searched for hers but Kimmy hid them. More hungry than he’d ever seen her, she was wild with passion. She came again. And though he was between her legs, over top of her, Kimmy didn’t seem connected. Arms over her face, it was like her mind had gone elsewhere while her husband fucked her. He kissed her gasping mouth.

“Deeper,” she urged him again, “you feel so good, I want it . . .”

Say it, Kimmy: Deeper.

But if she was thinking of Devlin, he couldn’t give her what she fantasized. And, fuck, if she’d slept with Devlin who had fifty more pounds of muscle and way more cock, could her Josh ever satisfy his own wife sexually ever again? What an awful thrill . . . 

Kimmy came again, face still hidden, but that pouting mouth making small gasps as he believed she orgasmed. Now she hugged arms around him, hiding her face in his collar and clutching his back, wanting more and more and more . . . 

His own balls began their boiling over now, convincing himself his wife was thinking of another man while her husband made love to her.

And something dark in him ached to tell her, ached for her to know what he feared: You’re thinking of Devlin, Kimmy, I know it! I can see it on your face, hear it in your cries, feel it in the way your nails run my back. Your mind is elsewhere, it's with another man . . .