Devon Hartford - Reckless

I glanced around, but it was only my imagination. However, I was not imagining Christos leering at the mirror.

I whined, “Stop staring!”

“Why?”

“Because I’m embarrassed!” I shrieked.

“Don’t be.”

There was such a finality to the way he said it, I had to pause.

“ Agápi mou , you are the most beautiful woman ever created. You are a child of Mother Nature. Your beauty as a woman is your birthright. You should be proud of yourself. Own your womanhood. Own your femininity.”

I stared at Christos. He was completely naked, all muscled chest and rock-hard abs. His manhood was fully, proudly erect. He looked at me lovingly. If he could be confident, why couldn’t I?

I pulled my sweater over my head, then my shirt. I calmly reached behind myself and unhooked my bra. I tossed it at Christos. It landed right on his…

Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Where it dangled and swung.

I pointed and said, “ It landed on your —!!!” That was all I could get out before I fell face first on the bed, bellowing laughter, clutching my sides.

“ Gooooaaaallll!!!! ” he shouted, then burst out laughing.

I buried my face in my arms and laughed so hard I couldn’t breathe. After a minute, I looked up and saw Christos still standing and laughing heartily, but bent over at the waist, resting his hands on the tops of his thighs.

“ It’s shaking!! ” I screamed, pointing at my bra. “ Every time you laugh, it shakes!! ”

He broke into another round of laughter and finally dropped to one knee. I expected my bra to finally fall off, but it didn’t.

Somehow, that was even funnier than everything else.

“ It’s stuck!! ” I squealed. “ I lassoed your man-steer!!!! ”

He laughed harder, but stood up slowly. Then he began to twirl his hips, and my bra twirled too. So did his man pole. Why did I imagine a rodeo cowboy swinging his cowboy hat in the air?

My bra spun faster and faster—

“ Meat spin!!!! ” he cackled breathlessly.

—until it flew off and landed on top of my…

Head.

I fell onto my back and couldn’t stop laughing. My bra was still stuck to my head.

“Nice hat,” Christos laughed.

I didn’t care. I was laughing too hard.

Christos stumbled over to the bed and plopped onto the mattress next to me. He rolled over until we were laying side-to-side.

He laced his fingers through mine and we held hands while we laughed and laughed for a long time. Slowly it faded into chuckles, then just breathy sighs.

“Was it good for you?” I gasped.

“Best ever,” he chuckled.

I glanced down and noticed he was still erect.

“How can you stay hard for so long?” I marveled.

He sighed while pulling my bra off my head and tossing it to the floor. “That’s easy, agápi mou . Everything about you turns me on. You’re my own personal Viagra. When I’m seventy-two and can’t get it up anymore, all you’ll have to do is throw your bra on my cock and I’ll be hard as a rock.”

“I can’t imagine you not being able to get it up, no matter how old you are.”

“Me neither,” he said with cocksure confidence.

“Tell me that part again about being together when we’re seventy?” I prompted.

“Oh, you mean when we’re old and gray and have been together for fifty years?”

“You mean when I’m like, 69?”

“I like 69,” he smirked.

“Christos!” I sighed. Why did I like the sound of that so much? I’m not talking about the 69 part, not that there was anything wrong with that, but I meant the being together fifty years part. And why was that making me horny again?

He rolled on top of me and I felt the length of his shaft pressing against my cleft.

“Condom!” I gulped.

“I bought a box on the way home.” He reached over and opened the drawer mounted to the wall and pulled out a new box. He sat up and opened the package with both hands while flexing all his muscles and snarling, as if the box were made of steel. “Roar!” he joked. Condoms flew everywhere.

“What are you doing?!” I asked.

He grinned. “You know that moment when pro-wrestlers rip their t-shirts off in front of the roaring crowd?”

“I guess?” I frowned.

“I’ve always wanted to do that. This seemed like the closest I was going to get. Roar!” he said again as he tore the flimsy condom box to shreds.

“You are such a dork,” I giggled.

“I have such a dork, but I assure you, I am not one myself.”

“Oh, that’s terrible. Don’t quit your day job. Comedy is not your calling.”

He smiled at me and licked his lips lasciviously while rolling the condom on, which for some reason was absurd. I couldn’t help but laugh again.

Then he leaned down between my legs and yodeled at my crotch, “Here, pussy pussy! Here, pussy, pussy!” He held his hand to his mouth as if he were trying to make his voice carry farther.

I propped up on my elbows and gaped at him. “What the hell’s balls are you doing?! ”

“Don’t you like my catcalls?”

“That makes zero sense.”

“I’m catcalling your pussy.” He was totally amused with himself. “Here, pussy, pussy!”

“Stop!” I chuckled then dropped back down on the bed, shaking my head, but smiling wide. I loved his dorkiness more than I would ever admit to him. It somehow humanized him. It took him from being the finest man on the planet to a regular guy I could relate to. No matter how ridiculous his jokes were.

“You sure?” he asked. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear.”

“What?”

He slid his tongue between my folds and I quivered. My legs lifted off the bed and my feet shook as his tongue swirled around my wetness. Then I jolted as the tip of his tongue stroked the center of my pleasure. I tingled and trembled to my toes as an orgasm rushed through my body almost instantly.

He lifted his head and gave me a curious look. “Yeah, that didn’t do it. I still haven’t made my case. I need to inspect this situation more carefully…”

“What?” I said breathlessly, still coming down from my orgasm. “I’m confused.”

He climbed up the bed and mounted me, lowering himself into my waiting heat. His rigidity entered my wetness.

“Ohhh my g-g-god-d-d-d,” I moaned as he filled me up with his massive fullness.

“Ahhh…” he groaned, all sense of comedy gone. “Every time I’m inside of you,” he hissed harshly, “I feel like it’s the first time I’ve ever had sex in my life.”

“Me too,” I murmured, “me too.”

He began a rhythmic thrusting that sent waves of pleasure cascading out from between my legs. I opened my legs farther, letting him in all the way. Within seconds, I tipped back head-first over the edge of ecstasy as another orgasm surged through me.

He sat up, repositioning himself so that his knees were now forward and his weight rested on his shins. My thighs draped over his as his hands cupped my hips and his thumbs caressed the crests of my pelvis. “Fuck, Samantha, your hips are a work of art. Fucking perfect, I’ve never seen anything like them,” he grunted as he worked his body repeatedly into mine.

My pleasure was building again. “Christos,” I moaned.

“Fuck…” he responded.

I felt a powerful orgasm about to peak as he plunged and plunged.

I was surprised when he started stroking my ribs with his fingers. “Christos!” I shrieked, kicking my heels up. I hadn’t expected his tickling touch and it distracted from my orgasm.

“Relax,” he said as he continued more gently, still stroking my ribs.