Page 55 of The Troll’s Summer Flame

“You’re getting so nice and wet, my Andrea,” he rumbles, and I agree in a wail. “So this is how you’ll fit me inside. You get so soft. So slippery.” Gordon takes a break from turning me into a broken dam and licks his lips. “Are men allowed to use their hands, too? Like you did when you stroked and licked me at the same time?”

“So very encouraged. Do both,” I beg, my hands cupping my breasts and taking turns massaging the nipples, rolling them between my thumb and fingers.

Gordon’s hands are big. His fingers are big. When one slides in as he laps up the juice I’m making, my eyes lose focus.

“Using fingers first probably helps prepare you?”

“Use more fingers,” I agree as my eyes try to fix their vertical hold.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But your pussy does such amazing things. It’s squeezing me.”

“You want it to squeeze the cum right out of you,” I babble. “That means it’s good!”

Gordon takes directions like my life depends on it. I told him squeezing was good. He puts together the pieces to find what makes me squeeze. Lapping my clit. Fingering my pussy. Pressure on my upper wall.

A second finger. “Oh, fuck!” I screech, then hold his wrist still so I can ride the two thick sausages now lodged inside of me, stretching me. If Gordon is getting the craziest peep show of his life, I’ll apologize later.

Except Gordon seems to think he should thank me for riding his hand like a mechanical bull at a cheesy western bar. “Good girl, Andrea. So good to me. So good to come on me and let me share your pleasure,” Gordon praises, kissing my thighs and putting his free hand under my bottom to lift me slightly. He rises, puts a knee next to my hip, and at the steeper angle proceeds to finger me until I’m screaming and shaking—and maybe squirting. I don’t know. I just know things are wet, my legs are boneless, and Gordon is inspecting me for damages in the aftermath.

Like, actually kneeling back down and taking stock, gently kissing and petting every inch of me with soft little cooing sounds. “Are you hurt? Was that too vigorous? Did my tusks jab you?”

“I love you, and that was the best sex ever, and we haven’t even had all the sex. Just the first round of sex.”

Gordon blinks at me. “Well... I don’t think it would be a comfortable fit, my Andrea.”

“Not at first, but pretty damn quick after. Trust me. It’s going to be amazing. And special,” I coax, and maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I should say one mind-blowing orgasm for me is enough and offer to finish Gordon off by mouth.

But I’m greedy, not just for me, but for him. I want him to know how much I want him. I want to feel him inside of me. Share the deepest connection.

“I think you might die if I fall on you,” Gordon whispers, looking around furtively, like the secret sex police might jump out and arrest him.

“Hey, didn’t you say that the Orc chef and his human wife had a baby? And he’s about your size?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Then it must work out okay,” I smile reassuringly. “And if you’re worried about falling on top of me, I can always be on top of you.” I say this like I’ve been on top before—for more than three minutes, that is. Or that I’m confident I can actually take something the size of a giant green cucumber, instead of my ex’s discount skinny hot dog dick.

But Gordon looks relieved and sprawls trustingly on his back, watching me with a set jaw and big “puppy love” eyes.

“You are all the blends of sexy, handsome, and cute,” I sigh, and it comes off like a cross between a complaint and a compliment. “There’s nothing wrong with that, by the way. I just don’t know how I got so lucky.”

Andrea thinks she’s lucky? I must have saved an angel or a saint at some point, and this is my reward. I rest my hands on Andrea’s shoulders as she sinks onto my chest, head above mine. She kisses me, and my filthy mind has a field day, realizing she’s twirling her tongue with mine, the very same tongue that thrust into her soft, silky pussy. Her mouth, so prettily pressed to my lips, was wrapped around my cock earlier.

“I’m the lucky one. How is a woman who is so lovely and perfect, the beloved teacher and musician, every fantasy I’ve ever had?” I whisper between kisses.

Andrea’s legs glide atop mine, stopping when her soaked pussy rubs against my cock. Her thighs close around my length, and we moan together as she rubs us together without sheathing me inside of her. “This version of me is just for you. The naughty, slutty Andrea is only for her boyfriend,” she confesses.

“Not slutty. Perfect,” I correct, biting back a guttural grunt as her wetness coats me.

Andrea puts her hand just under the head of my cock, cupping the thick tip in her palm. With a soft gasp, she presses her mound to my tip, her hips and hand working together.

I can tell right away that it’s a mismatch.

My tip doesn’t fill the tiny slit of an opening, even though I know two fingers managed to squeeze inside. No, the head of my cock is roughly the size of the entire pink morsel between Andrea’s legs. “Andrea?” I hiss.

“I’m almost there,” Andrea hisses back, wriggling, rubbing her clit against my cock. For a few moments, that’s what we do, my hand joining hers.

“We can come like this,” I urge, knowing I won’t last long. So much for the troll stamina I mentioned.