Perfect Saturday

perfect saturday sept 24 2016 cover.jpg

Perfect Saturday

A Mrs. Evans Story

By avenger-nerd-mom

While the kids are away for the weekend, a future Chris Evans surprises his wife on a lazy Saturday morning

Warnings: Language, Adult Situations, Fluffy smut, Fingering, Oral Sex, Condom Use. NSFW

Word Count: 1446

You wake when you feel the bed shift, but you don’t comment on his exit.  It’s early in the morning; you know he’s not actually going anywhere but the bathroom.  His late night out with the guys answers that for you.  As the water runs you drift in and out of consciousness, the dogs beginning to stir downstairs.  You don’t want to actually rise from sleep mode since the boys are with their aunt today and you want to enjoy a long lay in.

You are surprised when he returns to the bed and pulls the blanket back from your body. Your eyes fly open and connect with his, already dark with lust as he admires your toned body, clad only in royal blue lace underwear.

“This is nice,” he murmurs, as he races his hands over your thighs, roughly gripping your flesh.

“This is from last night, when you said you’d be home in ‘thirty minutes.’” You grumble; still sore you’d fallen asleep alone when you had been all ready for a night of lovemaking.

“Ah, shit, babe.  Sorry.  I guess I was on man time,” he apologizes, batting his eyelashes at you, like he thinks it’s gonna make it all better.

If he keeps moving his hands like that, he’s probably right.  Lifting your ass off the bed one handed, he pulls your underwear off with other and gently settles you back down, crawling between your legs and resting on his knees.

Your eyes can’t focus and you decide to stay half asleep.  It’s too early to be awake on a Saturday and instead you relax against his touch.  His strong hands run over your thighs again and grace across your hips.  His fingers trace over the scar he caused since one of the beautiful boys he made in you was too big to come out on it’s own.  He leans forward and kisses along the lasting mark, whispering, “Beautiful.”

Continuing his explorations, he sits back up and works his grasp over your ribcage, teasing along the sides of your rounded breasts. A quick peek down and you can see your nipples stand at attention, responding to his caress.  You arch slightly off the bed and he chuckles as his hands continue to move north, collecting your hands and raising them above your head, holding them tightly there.  He lays over you, pressing your body to the bed with his weight on you, the most glorious feeling in the world.  His lips take yours and a flash of color fills your sleepy mind; you smile when the minty fresh taste of his mouth causes red, white and blue to swirl in your brain. His colors. Cap’s colors. The toothpaste colors…  Your lips pull back in a silly smile at the thought, breaking the kiss as he gently moves to kiss your cheek before pulling back and kissing the tender flesh at the crook of your elbow, resting by your ear.

His mouth works its way back down your arm and slides over to nip briefly at your aching peak and you arch your body to him again.  “What are you doing?  You hate morning sex?” You ask, your voice gruff from your sleep, the first sounds you’ve made all day.  Your throat feels scratchy and you hope you’re not- stop, focus, sexy husband loving on you…

“This isn’t sex.  This is love making.  I’m loving you,”  he replies as his kisses move down your belly.  His words give you goosebumps and you wonder at his meaning.  “Worshiping you…”

You can’t speak as your next breath is lost when he kisses against your heated mound, wanting him so badly to go down on you, as had been your hope last night.  Instead, his kisses are chaste and light, and he continues down your thighs, raising your leg to kiss the tender spot behind your knee, the spot he knows isn’t sexual, but you find so damn sexy.  Your hands above your head grasp at the air and you wish to reach to him, but you follow his unspoken directive and keep them there.

For the first time, you realize he is naked.  All of his touches have been about you and not trying to get anything in return and your heart swells with love for this wonderful man you had the good fortune to fall in love with and marry.  Keeping your leg raised, he wraps both hands around your calf, massaging deeply where you pulled it earlier in the week.  You moan in delight, and bite your lip at the actual pain his touch creates in the torn tissue.

“Too rough? Sorry,” and he lightens his pressure.

You can feel his eyes drinking you all in, but you don’t open yours.  Your mind is in a haze and just soaking in his love and attention.  He shifts on the bed again, and moves closer to you, tapping the head of his cock against the swollen lips of your throbbing pussy, tight with building desire.  “Want this?” he teases.

“Yes, please.”

He pulls back and says, “Not yet,” surprising you as he plunges two fingers deep inside your wet flow.  “Oh, baby, you’re so hot; so ready.” He wonders aloud, his voice deep with emotion.

His fingers slide in and out, teasing you, loving you, caressing over your taint.  He pulls out the wet and smears it around your outer lips, pushing down with his other hand on your mound, stopping your squirming.  “I think you want this?  Did you miss me this week?”

“You know I did.”

“Good.  I missed you too,” he whispers as he leans forward and pulls your nipple between his teeth.  You buck against him and he chuckles, his breath hot against your chest as he runs his nose over the valley between your beautiful breasts  Tracing the tip of his slightly crooked nose around the other pink bud he pauses before wrapping his tongue around it and sucking it in.

As his thick fingers see to their task, he shifts his body again and climbs up the bed.  When you open your eyes, you smile up at him and shake your head at his stance, his cock within tongue’s reach.  You open wide, not moving your hands, per his preference and he pushes into your warm hole, taking him in.  He sighs in relief and reaches to cup your cheek, running his thumb across your freckles, pumping in and out of your mouth, never giving you more than you can take. Mid stride you clamp your jaw, slightly using your teeth to hold him in place, to savour him as you wrap your tongue along the ridge of the top, caressing across the slit.  You suck in, dragging out the precum and enjoying his sweet taste.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he chuckles quietly and plucks his cock from between your teeth, rubbing the tight head against your soft pink lips.  “There we go; now your eyes have that dark look.  You want my cock, don’t you?”

Damn him.  “Yes, please.” You smile.

“Still to proud to beg?” he teases, “After all these years?”

“Why should I beg? You know you’ll give it to me… Your cock needs me.”

He climbs over you hovering with a sinister grin on his face.  “Oh, is that right?”  Rubbing his hard cock against your pulsing heat you twist your body at the agony of waiting.

Your eyes dance, a fire in them, knowing the game is about over.  “If you give it to me, I promise I’ll take real good care of it.”  Raising your body under his, his cock slips between your wet folds and he lunges forward, pushing you to the bed.

“That’s a good promise,” he moans, grinding against you, falling into your natural rhythms together.

“Shit,” You hiss.  “Wait; you need to wrap it up!”

You push against his massive chest, knowing it won’t actually budge.  He stills inside you, and your body reacts, opening up and allowing him to sink deeper into your succulent cavern. Traitor.

He drops forward on his elbows and you can feel him settling deeper against you.  His lips skim along the velvety skin of your inner arms before moving to take your mouth in his.  The kiss is so tender and filled with love; perfect.

“Why? Maybe it’s time to make another? You feel so right today and we said we’d try again for a little girl… Do I really have to pull out and get a condom?  Let’s stay in bed all day and make a baby… a little princess, as beautiful as her mother?  That sounds like a perfect Saturday, Mrs. Evans.”

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Unseen Passions

Unseen passions.jpg

Unseen Passions

By avenger-nerd-mom

Chris x OFC


Chris strays from his usual path and meets a woman different from anyone he’s been close with before… While doctoring her injury, he gets to know her better.

Warnings: NSFW, language, adult situations, oral sex, intercourse

Word Count: 5625

Running along the gravel road Chris is lost in his thoughts.  Getting away from the craziness of life on set and crazy late night antics with his castmates was a good decision.  A sign of maturity… Renting an old farmhouse in the country allows him to make a dent on the growing bucket list of things he wants to do with his life before he’s too damn old to enjoy them.  However… Although he enjoys the quiet solitude, he misses basic companionship. Someone to talk to in the lazy early morning hours; someone to cuddle with at the end of stressful day; someone…  Aware that his thoughts aren’t even really about sex, images of curves and soft skin fill his mind and he turns up the sound on his playlist to block out the noise in his head and increases his pace.

Coming over the crest of the hill, he wonders if he’s seeing things.  A very female form is crouched down in the gravel.  Continuing his easy strides, he pulls out his earbuds and readies himself to greet the other runner.

Feeling around for her phone, the sting of the gravel and cuts on her hands causing her eyes to tear.  She hears the sound behind her, a steady footfall and crunch of stone and shell.

“Who’s there?” she calls out turning her body to the noise.

The sound skids to a halt.  “Me? Chris?”  His vocal cadence flusters.  “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.  I dropped my phone and can’t find it,” she huffs, still reaching around at her feet.

“It’s right here, behind you?  How can you miss the bright green color?” he teases bending to pick up the phone and trying to be inconspicuous about looking down her sports tank top where she’s nearly spilling out..

“Oh, thank you!” Standing up she turns to face his direction.  “Easy; I’m blind.”

“Oh, shit,” he whispers, taken aback at her response.

She laughs, “It’s okay; it’s not like it’s tattooed on my arm.” She gently rubs her hands together to brush off the loose gravel and hisses from the pain.

“Hey, you’re bleeding.  That looks pretty bad.  What happened?”  He takes in her athletic form quickly, but doesn’t see any other scrapes or cuts.

“Is there are a rock or tree limb or something?  I tripped.”

Chris sees the offending branch and kicks it out of the path.  “Yeah, a branch. Must have fallen in the storm the other night.”

“I guess so. I ran my other route the last day or two.”

“But, you’re… how?  How do you know where you’re going?”  Fuckin’ idiot. His curiosity got the better of him, and he spit out the words before he could correctly form a sentence with a little more sensitivity towards her disability.

“I can see things in certain light. That’s why the phone is a bright color.  It’s just too bright for me this afternoon to see anything.”  She taps the edge of her dark wrap around sunglasses.  “These aren’t just for fashion,” she laughs, shrugging her shoulders. “I just have a path I take. I know my way around and the neighbors know to watch out for me.  You must be renting the Johnson’s old place; he said to expect traffic up and down the road.”

“Yea; listen, your hands do look- um…”  Shit.  Can you say ‘look’ to a blind person?  “Your hands are bleeding and you might need help getting the little pieces of gravel out.”  Feeling obligated to help, he thinks quick.  “My rental isn’t far.  You don’t know me; would you wanna wait here and I can go get my ride and take you home? It’s a truck; you could even sit in the back, if you wanted.”

“Nah, I think I’m good.  Can I have my phone please?”  Placing it gently in her delicate hand, he watches curiously as she slides her hands down the cord to find the earbud, rising to hold it to her ear.  She listens for a few seconds before announcing, “I can make it back.  I didn’t sprain anything.  My hands caught my fall. I’m only about a mile and a half up, on the right.”

“How can you know that; how can you know where you are?”  Again with the dumb questions, Evans?!  Pretty sure she can’t see him, he face palms, shaking his head at his stupidity.

“My playlist.  I figure I lost a song while looking for my phone and talking to you; and I can already feel my legs getting tight.  But I will take you up on the offer to help clean my hands.  I don’t want an infection and I can’t get to town to the clinic today for Sally over there to help.  I’m guessing you must be in decent shape if you’ve already come up the hill from the Johnson’s.  Can you make the next hill with me?”

“You really can’t see me, can you?” he asks, laughter in his voice.  “Yea, I can make it up the hill to your place.  The big old farmhouse, with the wrap around porch?”

“That’s the one!  It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”  Before he can speak, she explains, “Like I said, I can see things in early morning light, but most of my sight is based on touch.  Give me your arm.”

She reaches out her hand and he steps to her, offering his extremity to her.  Feeling round his bicep, the attractive runner identifies a prominent vein running down his right arm.  His blood pumps energetically from his run and she follows the raised protrusion down to his wrist.   Her fingertips dance over the ridges there, turning his hand to touch his warmed palm briefly.  She giggles, slightly breathless.  “Yes. Definitely in shape.  I think you can make the hill.  Ready to get going?”

“Don’t you wanna know what I look like?  Like in movies, how people feel bone structure and stuff?”

“Dude. You’ve been running.  I can smell your pheromones.” Damn he smells good.  “You’re sweaty from your run; I am not touching your face.”  Laughing, she pulls her leg up behind her for a quick stretch.  “Besides,” she begins to jog in place, “if you are half as cute as you sound, I’m not too worried, Bahstin.”

She takes off running and yells back, “Don’t watch too long before you decide to catch up.”

Just for that he does pause to watch her bounce away before joining her.  “On your left,” he announces, and then has to stop himself from outright laughing.  He keeps pace with her, looking over occasionally to watch the slight bounce of her tits. Shortly before reaching the house, she goes for an all out sprint and he races to catch up, finding her on the sidewalk in front of the beautiful old home, talking on the phone.

“Yeah, I just ran up the drive… No, I fell, but I’m fine… I’m only two songs behind Gram…. I should have known you’d be timing me….Just a scrape on my palms…. Right. I need to go inside now and clean them up, but I gotta stretch first.”  As she talks, she tentatively reaches in front of her, and finding the low railing along the steps, she throws her leg up and leans over her it,stretching, sticking her ass out for Chris to admire.  “I promise, I’ll let it air out before I bandage it…  Gram. Gram.  I am a grown woman. I’ve been on my own before. Just cause I moved back here doesn’t mean I need you watching me every day… I’m fine. Really…  Really. I have to go. A friend is here for dinner…  Yes… Okay?  Thursday. Two o’clock?  I can’t wait!  Kisses, Gram.  Bye.”

Chris watches as she stretches and grows hard as he concentrates on her lithe body moving through her motions.  Damn; a feminine distraction wasn’t really how he intended his stay in the country to go, but a little admiration never hurt.

“Like what you see?” she laughed, motioning for him to follow her into the house.

“What?  No.  I wasn’t staring.  I was stretching.” He’s almost grateful she can’t see the blush on his face or the hard-on he has in his pants.

“Uh- uh. I don’t believe you.”  She giggles, opening the screen door. “So would you like to stay for dinner?  It’s the least I can do since you’re being kind enough to help me clean my hands.  Nothing fancy.  Just a roast and potatoes in the crock pot.”

The aroma of the cooking food hit his gut the minute he stepped inside the comfortable farmhouse.  His mouth starts to water, having lived on his sparse cooking for one during the last few days.  “It smells amazing; sure. I’d love to stay.”

“I don’t make a habit of inviting strange men in.  I was vague on the phone.  Gram will call and check on me later,” she says, almost as a warning, leaning against the wall to pull off her shoes.

He throws his head back in laughter and steps on the heel of one shoe, pulling his foot out and kicking it out of her way before removing the other.

Following her into the living room, he watches as she lightly walks on her tip toes maneuvering through a maze of stacked books.

“This way,” she instructs.  “The light in this guest bath will be better and there’s a first aid kit under the sink.”

He chases behind and bumps into a stack of books, knocking it over.  He quickly rights the stack, embarrassed by his clumsiness quickly rubbing at his toe.

“Nice going. And I’m the blind one,” she teases.  Biting back laughter, she wonders about this man she’s invited into her home.  Lord, I know I prayed for someone to brighten my day, don’t let this be a cruel joke.  He gives off a confident air, but she senses a loneliness to him and it calls out to the emptiness she finds within herself.  He strikes her as charming and playful, but a bit awkward too; almost like a little boy still at heart.  Like he spends his life playing pretend. He seems at ease with her but she feels her lack of sight throws him off balance, like he’s used to being on view..

“Fuck, that book was heavy.” He mumbles as he continues walking, taking in the eclectic decor of the home.  He shakes his head at his clumsiness.  Dude, pull it together.

“Braille.” She snickers.  “Was it the stack by the standing lamp?”

Looking back over his shoulder, he replies, “Yeah, it was.”

“Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.  It’s nine volumes.  I just stack them because they kept breaking shelves in my old place.  Here, they’re just part of the decor and I don’t have to listen to my ex complain,” she laughs. “Don’t sue if your toe is broken. You were the klutz who didn’t see where he was going.”

Focusing on the word ‘ex’ he smiles at the meaning behind the tidbit she’s just shared, wondering if it was for his benefit or just conversation.  “Sure, ‘cause I’d want to tell someone I broke my toe when a Potter book landed on it,” he guffaws, a lyrical sound filling the room.

Turning towards his voice she pauses in the open space and grins warmly.. “It’s a small room.  Why don’t you step in first and get the kit from under the sink?” she suggests, holding her arm towards the entrance.

Chris brushes past her and she feels his mass against her chest, realizing for the first time his full size and build.  She senses a change in him, as he turns serious.  “Ok. I may have been a klutz in the living room, but I promise I’ll be careful in here and with your hands.  I’m gonna wash up first, okay?”  He reaches under the counter and finds the first aid kit she mentioned.  Looking around, he takes in other items needed to doctor her wounds.  “I’m guessing I can use the towels hanging here?”

Stepping into the room behind him, she reaches out, touching the satin trim.  “Yup, these are fine to use.”

As he washes up, he talks to her quietly and introduces himself again simply as ‘Chris,’ exchanging names and pleasantries.  “So how long have you lived here?”

The two make small talk as he gently attends to the minor lacerations, tenderly flushing out the gravel with a water rinse.

“I’m kinda creating a shadow over your hand.  Can you sit up on the counter so I can see better?”  God damn, how many more references can I make to vision?  He shakes his head, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror.  Smirking, he scowls at his sweat stained face, smudged with dirt from the gravel road. He grabs another towel and cleans himself up a bit, just for his own sake, regardless of the fact she can’t see him.

“Sure.  Um, I can’t really put pressure on my hands to climb up.”  She sighs.  “Can you lift me?”

Oh fuck.  Chris looks at her curvy hips and doesn’t even worry about hiding his smug visage.


He pauses a second too long, holding his breath before responding. I swear, I’m not making excuses to touch her, he chides himself.  But damn, those are some nice curves.   “Alright, on the count of three, I’m gonna put my hands on your hips.  Bounce and I’ll lift you up.”

With athletic acuity, she follows his directive and he sets her gently on the marbled counter top, her skin warm and damp from the late afternoon run. His hands briefly caress down her thighs before lifting away and he hears her breath catch.   “Thanks,” she expresses quietly.

Exhaling to ease the pain as he continues cleaning her cuts, she is surrounded by his scent.  She hadn’t been teasing about his pheromones; his manly aroma is nearly overpowering in the small space.  Sweat, cologne and a woodsy smell greet her nose and laughter bubbles inside as she thinks about the Potter books he toppled over.  Yeah. That would be my damn love potion.  Battling to focus on his words, she does her best to ignore the rising heat his fragrance builds up from her inner core.

Continuing the small talk, Chris lets his eyes wander over her frame while he works.  Whatever her job, it’s obvious she takes care of herself.  Tight and toned, she has a dancer’s body and a sense of grace to her movements.  Her skin has a sun-kissed look, and the flowers in front of the house give evidence to her working outside.  Her delicate features are sprinkled with freckles and she wears no make-up to hide the slight imperfections to her skin.  He wonders briefly about the small scar on her chin and smiles at the haphazardly cut row of bangs across her forehead.

Using tweezers to remove the larger pieces of gravel, he tries to distract her with chatter, never letting the conversation rest on him.  He is surprised to look up and discover she’s removed her dark shades.  Her eyes are a crystal clear blue, reminding him of a TV character he had a crush on when he was a young boy.  She winces from the pain and tries to pull away, tears forming in her eyes.  “Fuck, that hurt,” she whispers.

“I’m so sorry.  I think that’s the last of the gravel,” he says caressing his thumb over the back of her hand as he inspects her palm closely.  “Ok, you’re gonna hate this next part. But there was peroxide under the sink. I really think I need to clean the cuts with it.  That shit always stings.”

“Damn,” she sighs. “I can’t get it infected; yea. Use it.  If you have to,” she whines.

He holds her hand a bit tighter as she starts to pull away.  “I didn’t even open the bottle yet. Why are you squirming?” he chuckles working to ignore the fact he’s grown hard as her toned legs have bumped against him from her movements.

She giggles. “Conditioning. My mother used to pour that on, no warning. It stings so bad.”

“I promise; I’ll fix it so it won’t sting.”  She smells so nice; like lavender and her skin has a musky scent from her run.  What was it she’d said about pheromones earlier?  Just being near her calms him; he hasn’t met someone like her in a long time.

“Yup; that’s what she used to always say too. Don’t lie. It’s gonna hurt like a bitch,” she laughs.  Chris’s mirth joins hers and he turns to hold her hand over the sink.

“I like the sound of your laugh,” she confides to him.  “It’s vibrant and full of life.  I think it tells a lot about who you are.  Easy to be with…. I like that.”

Blushing, he simply states his thanks, but can’t think of a true response.   There’s something so simple, so innocent about being with her knowing she can’t see him. Keying into her rising attraction as she leans closer to him, he realizes her pulse becomes more rapid with each slight touch of his hand against hers.  Chris feels a sense of pride that it has nothing to do with his looks for a change.

“Ok, just hold your hand right like this, balanced on mine.”  He holds her hand gently and begins to sprinkle the chemical over her open palm, leaning forward to gently blow across her skin, attempting to cool the heat as the medicine bubbles.  He watches as goosebumps form on her arms, and he raises his eyes momentarily on level with her perfect tits, seeing that her nipples are straining against her sport bra, although sweat from their run still shines on her face.  He struggles to control himself and grunts, “Other hand.”

He repeats the same actions and bites his lip when she involuntarily moans.

“Damn,” she sighs, her breath light.  “That’s kinda sexy.”

Taking her wrist, he pulls her slowly to him, praying he read the signs right.  “Uh-huh; it is,” he growls lowly the sound rumbling between them in the small room.  Dragging his fingertips up her neck, he leans in for a kiss, pushing his hands in the loose hair falling from her bedraggled pony tail.  Sighing quietly, she holds the injured hand out of the way, resting it on his shoulder. The fingertips of the other grasp across his chest, searching for the hem of his shirt and giving it an upwards tug.  Oh, thank God…

“Really sexy,” she whispers, pulling away from the kiss before moving in for more.  She struggles one handed to pull up his shirt, sticking to his body from perspiration. She moans in frustration.  He reaches over behind his neck and tugs the collar of the shirt, separating his lips from hers for a brief moment before crashing back into her.

Replacing her arm over his shoulder, she lets her hand dangle over his back.  With her other hand, she drags the back of her fingertips slowly over his chest ‘seeing’ every detail.  Her fingers play with the tiny hairs across his belly as their kisses rise in need.  Continuing her search, she stops at his Bardsley tat, skin slightly raised, and pulls back simply whispering against his plump bottom lip.  “A tattoo?”

“Yeah; in memory of a good friend,”  he explains, taking her mouth back in his,catching his bottom lip against her top one as his hands wrap around her back, growing with impatience as he slides them down to knead her ass in her tight yoga pants.  Spreading her legs, he moves between them, his cock straining against his shorts, demanding attention. Her hand over his shoulder begins to explore as well and she discovers the chain of his medallion and gives it a tug, biting into his skin. She runs her finger down it until she reaches the charm, smoothing her fingers over the raised metal.  “Saint Christopher? To protect you away from home?”

He nods yes, realizing she can’t see him. He moves from her mouth stating, “I travel a lot.”  His lips return to her salty skin, kissing along her jawline and slowly alternating between kisses and bites until reaching her ear.  “You smell so sweet,” he compliments.

She counters with, “You’re so solid.”  Amazed by her own bold moves, she decides to just go with it.  Chance encounters with men rarely happen in her life…  Live a little; have some fun…

He chuckles gruffly, shifting his hard cock against her hot covered mound.  “You could help with that?”

“I could,” she replies, her voice full of mirth.  “I’m a little defenseless; I can’t really use my hands.” Pausing, she breathes out slowly, her voice low and seductive when it returns. “You could help me out of this damn bra.”

“You sure?” he asks, his hands already sliding up her back, running his fingers under the elastic band. His large hands tantalize, cupping around under the fabric, teasing at the sides of her breasts.  He pulls his lips back, dropping his vision to watch her chest heave, her nipples growing hard again as he continues his light touch.

“I’m really injured.  I may need help out of all my clothes,” she seduces.  Why not?

Taking his cue, he slowly raises both her arms above her head, caressing back down her toned muscles, smiling when she giggles at his feathery touch. “All the clothes, huh?”

“Well, it’s the least you could do to help,” she slowly breathes out, leaning forward for another kiss before he pulls the clammy sports bra over her head, her rounded tits bouncing free, perky and high, a hint of a summer tan line still remaining.  His sharp intake of breath at the sight brings a smile to her face.  She blushes.  “Admiring again?”

He grins back, nodding his head adamantly, free in the idea she can’t see him. “Fuck; I can’t take my eyes off you.  Perfect.”

She giggles.  “Look all you want; I don’t mind.”

Leaning forward again, declaring lowly “I think I’ll take a closer look then,” he closes his mouth over one of her pretty pink nipples, pushing his body against hers.  She drops her arms over his back, feeling his smooth skin, trying to control her breathing.

Arching to him she scoots her bottom forward on the counter, wrapping her legs around his tapered hips.  She locks her ankles behind his back gently tapping his ass with her heels with each sway of their bodies, his strong arms wrapped around her back.

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Carefully moving a hand between them she makes her way round front to the waistband of his track shorts. Sweat pools and the garment is wet to her touch but she can feel his radiating heat; his covered cock twitching to be free. She is careful with her sore hand and Chris moves between them to relieve himself of the confines of his clothing and places his thick rod in her outstretched hand.  Both sigh on contact, her hand gently holding him, squeezing and feeling his girth.

Chris releases her nipple with a tug, leaning away from her to watch her hands slide over him. Her fingertips trail along the prominent ridges to the base, gently brushing over his tightened balls and she smiles wickedly. “Everything about you seems big, huh?”

Chuckling, with no true response, he returns his hands to her hips, pulling her forward and she leans against his solid muscular frame. The shift lifts her ass from the counter and allows him to remove her remaining clothing in one swift movement. His fingers corner her V, massaging the crease where her legs meet her pussy, his thumbs dipping in her wet. Pushing the heel of his palms against her, she rolls her hips into his hands silently begging for him to touch her deeper. She tugs his hard rod, pulling him closer to her.

“I saw condoms under the counter?” he grunts.

“Uh-huh. I can’t help,” she holds her hands up. “Damaged? Remember?”

“That’s okay, honey, I think I got practice with that.”  Balancing one strong hand on her thigh, he holds her in place on the counter, stepping out of his clothing pooled at his ankles before crouching down to grab one of the condoms.

From his position he is right at the perfect height to provide her some oral satisfaction. Pushing her legs further apart, she straddles over the front of the counter and opens her wide to see her swollen lips, dripping with her desire.  With no warning, he leans forward and laps at her sweet nectar.

“Oh, fuck,” she cries out in surprise, hitting her fist against her thigh, feeling for the top of his head before winding her hands in his hair, tugging at the short ends.  “Damn, warn a girl,” she mocks, feeling the soft hair between her fingers, ignoring the pain in her battered hands.

He only mumbles against her cunt, his tongue continuing its work.  Flicking down each side of her walls, he nibbles and sucks along the way, holding his hands against her tight thighs and massaging her toned flesh.  He wraps around her delicate button, tugging and pulling with his teeth gently.

“Hey there, Bahstin soldier boy, it’s been a while for me; take it easy.  I don’t wanna come too quick.”

Her words catch him off guard.  He pulls back, completing a long lick. “Soldier? Why’d you say that?” He’s curious about her word choice, wondering if she somehow knows who he is, but not enough to break the moment.  He uses one hand to continue to drag though the additional juices he’s created in her.

She runs the tips of her fingers over his hair again, looking down but not really seeing him, twisting to push her throbbing cunt against his hand.  “Fresh shave, short hair, built like a fuckin’ brick wall… Gotta be military or something, cause your body is just ridiculous.”

He joins in her laughter, relaxing again with the thought she has no idea who he is or what he looks like; it’s a freeing notion.  Standing to full height again, he continues pumping his hand in and out of her hot box, bringing the other to clutch at her breast.  She drops her head and it rolls to the side, lost in the ecstasy he provides, stretching her neck gracefully, exposing her tender flesh.  His lips call and he has a desire to cover her in hickeys.  Dropping his mouth to her skin, he tastes again the salty sweat and dust from the run along the gravel road.  He washes over her skin before grasping with his teeth and bearing down momentarily.  He releases with a pop satisfied with the beginning of a mark to add to later.

“Hey, just because I can’t see it doesn’t mean others won’t.  Can’t really wear a scarf to water aerobics tomorrow,” she ribs, pushing him away playfully with the back of her hand before sliding her hand up his bicep across his strapping shoulder to wrap around his neck. She pulls him forward and commands huskily, “Do it again.”

He laughs at her playfulness and obliges in her desire, his mouth and hands creating a rising need, teasing them both by dragging his stiff rod against her thighs, building his own longing as he attends to hers, this beautiful stranger.  As her whimpers become louder and fraught with a tinge of pain, he releases his hold to roll the condom on, not worrying about creating a show of it.  He is surprised when one of her hands drops to his and she trails her fingertips over his hand, running from base to tip as he snaps the latex in place.  “Beautiful,” she whispers.  “I bet you’re simply beautiful.”

Lifting one of her legs over his arm, he smiles as she drags her fingertips through her own mess and wipes down the length of his covered cock. Wrapping her other leg around him, she pulls him close and he lines up to enter her, sinking deep inside.  Making no effort to move, her held breath audibly indicates to him she needs time to adjust to his size.

“God, you’re fuckin’ tight,” he favors. “You feel so good on my cock,” complimenting as he slowly begins to push in and out of her.  The sound of slapping flesh, her squishy wetness and quiet whimpers from them both fill the room.

Her head drops to his shoulder and she bites down on the sinewy tissue between her teeth. Cantoring against his supple skin, she confides,  “Fuck, Bahstin, those noises turn me on.”  Running her tongue over his flesh, she bites again, calling forth a yelp from his lips.  “Like that,” she smiles, her lips upturned sinfully.

Maintaining his hold on her, he picks her up from the counter, turning to push her against the wall behind them in the close space. It begins to dawn on him that she needs to hear their lovemaking, as she can’t see it.   Shifting her higher in his arms, he moans loudly aiding her auditory need as her nipples drag against his chest.  Feverishly he pulls her down on his rigid cock, her foot hitting against the small of his back.  Fucking her against the wall, their movements rattle the hanging picture frames and his breath catches with each fervid thrust.

“Hell, yes,” she sighs, falling into a heavenly cacophony of sounds, bringing her to the edge of a release in ways she didn’t think were possible.  As her utterances grow in volume, his growls follow suit, a torrent of noise enveloping her.

Her body tenses as he pushes her against the wall again, so powerfully she can barely breath.  Her fingernails dig into the flesh on his broad shoulder and bicep, ignoring the pain in her hands. Cries of pleasure and want urge him to continue, pumping faster as he thrusts up harder, pushing deeper into her sweet hole.  “Fuck, babe, I’m close. Can you come first?” He rumbles in her ear, his breath hot against her skin, leaving a trace of his sweat on her neck. The resonance of his voice rolls through her, creating the tightening in her belly she craves.

“Uh-huh, yea; almost,” she whines, her mewls lustful and needy, adding to Chris’s devotion as well.

As their mouths meet to capture one another’s sounds, he moves away from the wall, releasing his grip under her briefly to smack her ass. As the sting burns her behind, the timbre echoes in the room. The noise itself tilts her over the edge as she falls, bouncing against his cock, crying out, “God, yes; I’m coming, I’m coming.”

With her pussy bearing down on him, he thrusts upward a few more times before he spills, filling the condom full.  Knees weakening, he spins to sit her back down on the counter, wrapping his arms tightly around her as he silently enjoys his release, burying his head in the crook of her neck, lips tenderly against her skin; elated to be connected with someone again.

Her heart pounds loudly in her ears, as does his labored breathing.  The sensation of being well used makes her smile as she draws her hands across his broad muscular back.  She’d forgotten how much she’d missed the contact of a man and indulges in this quiet time together.

She hears him rattling around the bathroom and the snap of the condom.  She can’t wipe the smile off her face as she follows his sound, imagining what he might truly look like, hoping she might have the opportunity sometime to see him in the right light.  His presence halts and his fingertips grace under her chin, lifting her head up.  His contented sigh speaks volumes to her well-tuned ears.  “We should probably wash those cuts again?” he suggests, cautiously taking her hands in his and rinsing them again.  He also uses a wash cloth to clean over her mound, caring to clean the delightful mess he made of her.

Wrapping a towel around her, he lifts her and carries her from the counter.  “You gotta be sore from the hard surface? I’ll massage you down; I promise,” he vows, resting his forehead to hers. Stepping into the living room, buck naked, he pauses.  He looks to her innocent face and laughs, “Where am I taking you?”

“Depends on what you have in mind?” she asks quietly, the cocoon of the bathroom broken. Not sure what to expect next; never having had sex with a random stranger in her bathroom before, she doesn’t know what to say.

Chris hears the insecurity in her voice and isn’t quite sure of himself either, so he says the first thought that comes to mind.  “A hot shower, from our run and other… activities.” He cocks his eyebrow, but realizes this winning gesture is lost on her.  What a challenge she could be!  He ponders momentarily.  None of my visual tricks would work…  Shifting back to the now, he completes his thought.  “Then that pot roast.  It smells amazing. And maybe round two before breakfast in the morning? I have some work to attend to tomorrow, but I could be back in time for another evening run?”

“I like the sound of that plan, Bahstin.  The master bath is up the stairs… What kinda work you got?”

Sweetly kissing the top of her head, he replies cheekily, “Oh, you know, just saving the world, fighting off bad guys; nothing serious.”

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom


An Unexpected Friendship


An Unexpected Friendship

By avenger-nerd-mom

On a flight home to Boston, Chris meets two interesting women, one older and one younger


Warnings: Fluff, Language, Adult situations

Word Count 1430

Exhausted from a week of meetings,  Chris pulls the window shade down and nearly collapses against the wall.  Moments later he is caught between awake and sleep when he feels his seat mates approach. He keeps his head low and does his best to ignore them, pretending to be asleep.

The sound of a small child’s whispers, a jumble of unintelligible sounds is heard as ‘it’ crawls into the space next to him.

“Shhh, Lilly, don’t wake him,” a soft feminine voice whispers, a hint of an accent.

Oh, great, a kid. Chris wishes he’d put in his ear buds as soon as he’d sat down, but it’s too late now.  He’ll have to listen to kid chatter the whole way to Boston, and won’t get any rest.

Mother and child shift and settle themselves.  “Mummy,” the child addresses, as the distinct sound of a tiny British accent fills his ears,  “he’s quite handsome.”

“Shhh, Lilly,” the woman replies, obviously tired from travel and her child’s quips and comments.  “Here chew this gum so your ears don’t pop.”

Chris relaxes as the child seats herself, calm and quiet. He’s sat next to adult passengers who have been more noisy and annoying than this child.  He recognizes that this time maybe he lucked out.

“Mummy, he has a beard.” The child shifts in her seat, kicking her foot against Chris’s leg.  He grits his teeth silently, determined to keep up the pretense that he’s asleep.

“I see that darling.  Shhh… let the poor man rest.  He seems very tired.” She buckles in the child and hands over a beloved toy.  “Now, please, snuggle Dolly and let’s rest.  You want to be alert when we get to Grammie’s.”

Chris finds he struggles to fall asleep now.  The lilt of the little girl’s accent plays tricks on his mind, but eventually he drifts to sleep as the plane reaches flying altitude.

He wakes with a startle when he feels a hand on his cheek, softly playing with his beard.  His eyes pop open to find the little girl standing in her seat next to him, gently touching his face.  His anger swells, but he knows better than to snap at a child.  He sees the worn out woman is sleeping,  but he reaches across and shakes her shoulder.

“Hey,  lady,” he says, his voice gravelly from interrupted slumber.  “Wake up.”

He shakes her again, while the child rests her tiny hand on his broad shoulder. “Dammit,” he mutters. “Wake up.”

“You said a bad word,” the little girl scolds him, her ringlet curls bouncing as she points her finger at him.

You woke me up.  How’d you get out of your seat belt?”

“I wanted to touch your beard.  I loosened it and crawled out.”  Her small grin shows she’s quite proud of herself.

“You sneaky little shi-”

“Sir! Do not swear at my child!”  The young mother mumbles in confusion, anger in her obvious tone with him, waking to find a strange man scolding her child.  “What is going on?!”

“Your kid woke me up, touching my face.  It’s creepy! If you’re gonna travel alone you need to keep an eye on your kid,” Chris informs her gruffly.  “She’s not even buckled up.”

The woman shakes her head, rubbing her eyes and pulling herself up from her slumber.  Looking to her child, she sees that indeed the young girl has escaped. Her tone is exasperated. “Lilly! Why are you out of your seat?”

The little girl’s eyes fill with tears, confused by her mother’s anger.  “I just wanted to know if his beard was soft like daddy’s was before he went to heaven.”

Ah, fuck. Chris pinches the bridge of his nose and runs his hand down, stroking over his beard,  tugging the scruffy ends in thought.  “Shit,” he mumbles. Why me? He rests his head back against the seat and sighs.

Struggling against her mother’s efforts to sit her back down, the little girl taps his arm. “Sir. You said another bad word.”

Seeing the little girl’s eyes fill with tears, he clears his throat, gently rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. “I did. Sometimes I do that.  It’s not nice and I’m sorry. I think you need to sit back down so you’re safe. “

He looks over to the young woman, a combination of irritation and relief on her face.

“Lilly, right? Let’s get you back in your seat.  Did you need a snack?”

Chris reaches up to the call button before shifting in his seat to help settle the little girl. He smiles as she squirms back into the seat belt she had loosened and crawled out of, all without her mother’s knowledge.

“Yes, I’m Lilly Potter! How did you know?” she asks with wonder.

Before Chris can reply an attendant appears, “Yes, Mr. Evans, how can I help you?”

“Bring us lots of snacks and apple juices please,” he replies with fake warmth, trying to mask his sleepiness, feeling guilty for responding rudely and cursing at a small child. It’s like he can feel his mama smacking him up the backside of his head.

She looks down at the young girl and grins, oblivious to the glare of the child’s mother.  “Yes, sir.  I’ll be right back.”

“We have snacks.  You can’t just go giving food to strange children,” the woman reproaches him.  “She has food allergies,” the woman explains curtly.

“Fine, then when the food gets here you can pick out what she can and can’t have,” his tone holds to his ice as well. Something about this woman is off putting.  Although he feels bad for the fatherless child,  the widowed woman doesn’t garner his sympathy.

It dawns on Chris he’s heard the child’s name before.  “Lilly Potter? Like the book?”

The little girl beams with pride, “Oh, yes! Those were my father’s favorite books and I’m my mummy’s favorite flower!”

Chris tightens the buckle and lowers the tray for their shared snack.  The child continues to chatter away.  Although exhausted, Chris resigns himself to now spending the remainder of the flight as her new best friend. “You have pretty eyes. What’s your name? I’m almost five.”

“I thought you were five! That was my guess! I have a niece who is about your age,” he replies.

He bites back a sinister laugh when the flight attendant bumps the mother in the head as she hands the snacks to him and he arranges them on the tray.  “Mummy?” the child asks, her voice unsure.  She leans to whisper to her mother, who is rubbing the top of her head ruefully, “I don’t think I can eat these.”

The woman sighs, “Oh, Lilly, darling, you can’t.  I’m sorry.  That’s why strangers shouldn’t offer food to children they don’t know,” she says pointedly, so Chris can hear her verbal jab.  “But I have your special crackers in my bag and-”

“But mummy, I want to share my snack with the cute man,” the child whispers loudly.  At the tender age of ‘almost five,’ the child has not developed the skill of whispering yet.  Chris can see the child’s repeated comments about his good looks are grating on the young mother’s nerves.

The woman laughs, “Oh, dear, sweet child!  You will be the end of me!” She drops her voice, hoping only her daughter will hear her scolding.  “You can’t keep talking about his looks.  It isn’t polite.”  Raising her voice again, she continues,  “You can share your crackers!”

Chris acknowledges to himself the sound of her laugh is rather nice.  “Excuse me.  Lilly? I’m sorry you can’t have those snacks.  Ask your mom if you could have the apple I have in my bag instead.”  When the dark haired woman smiles her thanks and nods her head yes, Chris notices her hazel eyes are filled with worry and concern, and mirror his own sleeplessness.

“Lilly, I might like some of your special crackers too,” he says as he swipes the unsatisfactory snacks from the tray into his bag under the seat and pulls out a large ruby red apple. Special crackers probably have no flavor and taste like cardboard. Yea!  The mother places a small packet of crackers on the tray.  Chris leans to the small girl and whispers “Maybe your mom can nap while we snack?  It’s nice to meet you, Lilly.  I’m Chris.”
Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Bringing Sunshine to Boston

brining Sunshine to Boston August 29 2016

Bringing Sunshine to Boston

A Sunshine Story

By avenger-nerd-mom

Chris X plus size OFC Sunshine

Actor Chris Evans brings his girlfriend “Sunshine” to Boston to meet the family, but they make a quick stop at his house first

Warnings: NSFW, Language, Adult Situations, Oral Sex, Restraints, Fingering, Nipple Play, Rough Sex, Intercourse, Aftercare

Word Count: 2979

Chris nervously unlocks the front door.  “Ok now, honey, don’t judge.” He chuckles as he reaches in to turn on the lights.  “This place needs a make-over too, but you know I really don’t care.  I probably wouldn’t even have hired you in the first place if it wasn’t for that stupid magazine article.”

“Really selling me on it, dear.  Move. Let me see how bad it is,” I push him aside and step into Chris’s Boston home.  We’ve got a few hours to kill before meeting his family at his mother’s house for dinner and due to… events on the morning plane ride, we both need to freshen up.

Chris laughs and says, “Be my guest.” He carries our bags in from the porch as I walk from room to room.  Cream. Very little color. Few personal accents.  I can’t believe what I see.  It makes me really sad for him.  After a quick survey of the ground floor I meet him at the steps.  His blue and white baseball jersey t-shirt is the most colorful thing present in the foyer.

“Damn, honey.  You live here right?  I thought Boston was home and would be different,” I shake my head sadly.

Confused, Chris raises his eyebrow.  “What? It’s nice, right? Minimalist? Clean lines?”

I put my hand over his beating heart on his solid chest.  “Christopher, it looks like Ikea threw up in here and it has no personality.  Where are you?  Where’s your heart in it? Things you love?” I look around the open space and physically cringe.  “I really thought LA was just your show place, and this would really be you.  Earthy, dark woods, leather. Color. Something.  What the fuck, babe? I just wanna rush to the nearest hardware store and get buckets of paint.”

Leaning against the rail, Chris seems a little crushed.  “I really thought you’d like it.”

I lean into him, caressing my hand across the prickly beard on his cheek.  “Oh, pet, don’t get me wrong.  I love the windows, and the natural light.  It is nice and streamlined, but it’s not what I expected from you.  This is just another showcase house.  Where do you get to really be you?”


The bedroom is an improvement, definitely more of what I was hoping to see.  Hanging in beautiful frames are enlarged photos he tells me he took himself of his spiritual trip to India a few years ago.  The taupe colored walls are accented by the large four poster bed.   And covered in decorative pillows.  There must be twenty.  Throwing them all to the floor, I wait for him to finish his shower.

I admire his personal effects on the oak shelves surrounding the bed, photos of close friends and family, mementos of his travels courtesy of Marvel.  Smiling, I drag my fingertips over dusty framed pieces of artwork, a collection of Cap that younger children have obviously given to him over the years.  The types of things he should have on display through the whole house.  

I settle down among the pillows and wait. He’s taking forever.  When the bathroom door opens I can hear him step into the room, but I know he can’t see me on the floor, over the height of the bed.

“Sunshine?” he asks quizzically.

Popping up on my knees, only my head is visible to him over the top of the fluffy down comforter.  My breath catches at the sight of him in just a towel, wrapped low on his waist.

london towel

Drops of water still bead in his chest hair and his short summer haircut sticks up in all directions.  In the dim light with the shades drawn, the black ink on his skin appears sinister and a chill runs down my spine. A heat rushes to my core and I’m instantly ready for however he wants to spend the afternoon.  After I get what I want.   Patting the padded surface, my voice is flirtatious and sultry.  “Why don’t you come around here, big boy?”

A smile breaks across his face. “What’d you do with all the pillows?” he asks.

“You’ll see.”

Watching him step around the edge of the bed, he surveys the mountain of pillows underneath and surrounding my naked figure and he chuckles.

“Well, hello beautiful,” he whistles between his teeth.  I adore that he says he loves my plump curves, that my love handles are just more of me for him to hold on to when we make love. And when he responds that way, I believe him.

“Your ass just begs for a spanking.”

I can see he’s already sprung to attention, wondering what I have in mind.

Patting the bed again, I drop my arm to open a space for him to move in front of me, to sit on the bed.  He sits naturally, resting one hand on his thigh, spreading his legs, smiling when I lick my lips and reach my hand up under the towel.  My hand wraps around his warm cock, heated from the shower.  With a few tight grasps and squeezes, he grows harder at my attentions.  “Mmm… Big boy is exactly right,” I murmur, reaching with my other hand to pull the towel lose.

Chris leans back on his hands, taking a deep breath of contentment as I brush my full lips across his head.  I tease him a bit, toying with him as I simply run his head back and forth over my closed mouth, my tongue occasionally darting out to lick his soft velvety skin.

That action elicits a groan from the back of his throat. “Babe, you’re teasing.”

My lips kiss down the side of his shaft, wet and sloppy, humming,  “Mmm- hmm.  Just like you teased me on the plane.”

Chuckling, his head drops forward to his chest to watch.  “I finally let you come,” he reminds me, his voice lust filled as he grows under my touch.

Kissing back up the other side, adding the intermittent nibble, I respond,  “Uh-huh, after edging me four times…”

“Was it only four? Yea, don’t do that to me,” he snickers.  “I fuckin’ hate it.”

His words sound distant to my ears as I focus on doing what I love best; making my man melt.  Bringing my luscious opening over the top of his head, I pull him in, taking his swollen tip into my hot, wet mouth. My lips wrap around the sweet bell, skimming my teeth just slighting and dragging my manicured fingertips up his thighs.  He lets out a quiet hiss as my thumbs massage at the space between his legs, gently applying pressure under his balls, soft and tender.

Stroking my tongue across his slit, I savor the taste of him on my tongue.  With each advance I take more of him in slowly.  Titling my head back, I watch his response.  I pull off, teasing “Hmm… you’d hate that would you?”

“Fuck,” he growls, realizing he’s unwittingly given me a challenge.

His eyes lock on mine as I confidently pull him back inside my cherished oral space, my lips flush against his shaft, sliding up and down as my hands continue their tease.

He slides forward on the bed pushing into my mouth with a thrust.  His pupils dilate and the sea of blue is lost as his need clouds his vision.

My hands extend their roaming, my thumbs dipping between his ass cheeks and flitting across his rim in a stimulating rhythmic pattern.  His groan stirs my gut and I become aware of the pooling of juices inside my pussy,  waiting for my turn.  My eyes close as I continue my task, sloppily sucking him, pulling him close to his desired end.  He shifts as he sits up, winding his hands in my hair, holding me firmly on his cock.  I struggle against him and he grasps tighter. Clenching my jaw at his force, I dig my teeth slightly into his flesh,my tongue lapping against his hard cock as he holds me firmly.

“No biting,” he warns, pulling my hair tight, tilting my head back to look up at him.

My mouth releases it’s steady hold around his cock into a knowing smile, but I can’t comment back at the moment.  He uses his grip to hold me in place as he lifts his hips and thrusts into my mouth, repeating the rough action several times until my eyes water.  Nearly reaching his limits, he pulls out and pushes me onto my back into the pile of pillows.

“Maybe they’re good for something after all,” he bitches about the pillows as he falls to the floor next to me, leaning on his elbow.  With one hand between my thick thighs and the other grasping my ample breast he starts to work me over.  Pulling one of my tits to his mouth, he sucks in quickly and grasps my nipple between his teeth.  A shocked cry escapes my lips as he also penetrates between my folds with two fingers, pushing hard to find the magic spot. “You like being teased; you’re still wet,” he praises.

My hands reach for his cock but he pushes one out of the way, bringing it above my head and holding it down firmly.  Fingering me roughly he continues to suckle at my breast as I pull and tug on his hard rod.  I raise my ass off the floor to push harder into his hand, wanting more than he’s already giving.  Gyrating against him, he slides another finger in.  Happy with his acceptance of my silent directions, I drop my ass back to the floor and raise my feet up on the bed behind him.  He continues to finger me, turning his hand so his palm brushes against my clit with each drive.   The pressure causes me a flash of pain, changing the sounds of my moans. He looks up from my tit, but through gritted teeth I tell him not to stop.

His grip on my wrist is stronger as he moves to take the other nipple between his teeth.  My free hand holds his balls, carefully yanking and rolling between my fingers.  He knows if he gets too rough, I won’t go easy on him and I snort with laughter at the thought.  He laughs at me, probably having no idea why I’m amused during our sex. His deep baritone sound vibrates through me and a searing heat hits me in the middle. He continues to palm me. Thrusting in with his beautiful fingers, he curves them in, a master at finding the perfect spot, until I can feel the tightening in my core.

Sensing it too, he changes his position.  I hear the crinkle of the condom package and briefly wonder where he pulled that from. Under the bed? He moves quickly to climb over top of me and slams into me hard, forcing the air from my lungs.  With my feet up on the bed, I push back against him grinding with him. “Fuck me,” I whisper.

His sinfully delicious smile lights up his face. “Want it rougher?”


He moves my other hand up binding them both together now under his, holding me still, as if I’d fight him.  With his other hand, he claws at my fleshy hip, pulling out his thick, satisfying cock.  Each drive feels deeper than the one before, the thrusts moving me off the pillows till I’m on the floor.  I can feel rug burns starting on my ass. And I love every goddamn minute.  I wrap my legs around his slim waist, holding him to me, rocking my hips up to meet each pounding exertion.

I’m so turned on by this man and the love he gives me.  His strength and power.  I love his weight on me, making me for once feel small and dainty.  With his cocky damn eyebrow he smirks at me with each stroke.  “Kiss me, “ I breathe out, needing him to tear into me and finish it.  I can’t bear the tease any more.  “Take me; slam it.”

His mouth hungrily meets my primed lips, brushing his nose against mine.  I love how tactile he is, gentle even when he’s rough.  Eventually we should say those three damn words.  He pushes my wrists into the floor and I know to keep them there.  He supports himself over me with one beautiful bicep in my line of sight as his other hand lifts under my ass, melding us even closer together. Each spot where our bodies connect sends messages of pleasure through the rest of my body.

Screaming out as the orgasm rips through me, I feel our energies join as one.  My mind is filled with nonsense that is incomprehensible, and I love he does that to me.  Totally incoherent thoughts. Wanting to shout out ‘love, love, love.’

After several more forceful invasions with his greedy cock, Chris’s body tenses as he comes, his fingers possessively digging into my beautiful fat ass. Undeniably his favorite feature!  With a sigh, he collapses on top of me, nuzzling into my neck.  Our breaths match one another and slowly we still, returning to a calm.  I wrap my arms around him, feeling his weight on me, laughing when he flips us over and he hits his head on the dresser.  “Fuckin’ meatball,” he mutters irritably.

cuddles 5

His hands roam over my back and brush over my ass. The carpet burns sting and I hiss at his touch. “Shit, babe, I’m sorry, I-”

“I’m not. Stop. You fuck me so well; don’t ever apologize,” I clearly state, making sure he both hears and understands

“Christopher, I love the way you make me feel; I like the pain mixed with the pleasure. It’s hot as fuck, so don’t you dare apologize.”

“Yes ma’am,” he chuckles, arranging one of the pillows under his head as I snuggle up to his side.  He raises his arm so we both can see his watch. “Time for a nap before we clean up again to go to Mom’s?”

I run my fingers over his soft chest hairs, tweaking his nipple, watching him tickle his lower lip with his mustache. “Or we could go buy paint?”

“What? You were serious?” He shifts and raises up my chin so he can see my face better. “It’s that bad? You really don’t like it?”

Oh, shit. I can see the hurt on his face.  After getting pounded to the floor, literally, my body aches. Sitting up to stretch I pull a pillow to me, stuffing it under my ass to provide cushion as I sit.  I wince as my broken skin makes contact with the textured fabric.

“You’re moving slow to think about what to say,” Chris infers as he also sits up and reaches over to open a bottom drawer, pulling out a small bottle of aloe.  He motions for me to lay across his lap and prepares to apply the soothing ointment to my small injuries.

Gasping as the cool creme makes contact with the heated skin, I whisper. “Oh God, that feels heavenly.  Mmm,mmm… thank you, baby.” I lay for a moment, enjoying his tender care.  “Christopher, I know what to say, I just don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

His hands knead the flesh and caress down my thighs as well, getting lost in his admiration of my full figure.  God bless this boy.  

“I’m a grown man; I can take it.”  His voice indicates he is distracted by the movement of his hands over my ass, and that he really doesn’t care about the house, but about my opinion of the house.

Leaning over he kisses the colorful tat of a four leaf clover on my left ass cheek, gently blowing across my skin, cooling the damaged areas. A chill runs up my spine at the gentle and loving aftercare he gives. So good to me always, in all ways.

Sighing, I start to list the things my decorator’s eye wants to fix.  “It’s not horrible: I would actually design this for someone else… But not for you.” I rub my fingers through the hairs on his thigh under me, wanting contact with him while I deliver the hard truth.  “It’s cold, it’s unwelcoming, it’s bland.  There’s no color.  That’s not who you are.  I saw the gym as we came up here.  It has more personality than the downstairs!  This room? This room is amazing!  Baby, this room is you.  The rest of the house should look like this.. Little pieces of you, your family and your career scattered everywhere.  Fun and playful, like you.”  I twist to look at him and see my words hit home.

He raises his eyebrow, and slowly nods his head.  “And how much is this going to cost me?” He laughs.  “Shit!  Are more goddamn decorator pillows involved?”

“No more pillows. I swear.  I can re-use these.”  I rise to my feet, and reach out to pull him up next to me. I love the feel of his rock solid chest against my soft full tits.  “I just hate that the house doesn’t reflect your warmth, charm and personality.  If you mean it, I can actually rework a lot of this with some paint, fabric… oh, and we’ll need-”

“Shhh.”  Laughing, he reaches his hands to cup my face, his eyes searching mine. Before kissing me, he caresses his beard against the side of my face and I lick my lips in anticipation of his plump lips meeting mine.

“Maybe Boston seems cold because it didn’t have my own personal Sunshine in it until now.” His smile lights up his face and my heart just melts as he leans in to kiss the tip of my nose. His hot breath brushes across my skin as he whispers, “What colors do you suggest, babe?”

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