Page 63 of The Troll’s Summer Flame

That’s a good question, and I feel a fresh wave of appreciation for my boyfriend. My “more than a boyfriend,” even if it’s not official yet. I can feel it. I love how he asks and doesn’t just try to guess, blundering along and getting huffy if he’s wrong.

“Kinky means things that aren’t strictly man-penetrating-woman sex. If you asked someone else—oooh, just like that— it would be different,” I pant, grinding back against his talented tongue. “We’re just not that experienced. I would do lots of things with you, Gordon. All you would have to do is ask, and we could decide together.”

Gordon moans agreement from where he’s lapping my slit, giving a hedonistic groan as his tongue slips inside and finds the salty mix of pussy and cock that I’ve been growing very familiar with after several days of marathon sex.

“Fuck, I love how you taste,” Gordon sighs, rises, and his broad back flattens me in an embrace.

I love it. I love the feeling of being smothered in his warmth, followed by the feeling of being so full it almost hurts. This is a new angle, and I’m surprised at how quickly the pleasure builds once he’s inside of me, aiming up and in.

“Feels really good. So full.” Each stroke is making me lightheaded—although that might be the troll crushing the air out of me. Whatever it is, I’m enjoying it.

“So wet and hungry for me. So tight.” Gordon kneads my bare bottom while he shoves his impressive member in deep. His thumb grazes my backdoor, and to my surprise, it feels amazing. I’m not sure if it was an accident or not, not until Gordon whispers in my ear, “What made your pussy grab me so tight, my Andrea? Telling you how much I love your tight, sweet pussy? Or this?”

I gasp when his forefinger rubs deliberate circles across my anus while he’s buried inside.

I don’t have to answer. My pussy is a tattletale, milking and squeezing on Gordon while my thighs start to shake.

“Is that kinky?”

“It’s new. It’s not off-limits; it just needs extra time. I’m not ready for that—no, no. Not the rubbing. The rubbing is good. The sex part. The part where you fuck my ass instead of my pussy. That needs time, and prep, and lube. So much lube.”

“Oh. We don’t have to do that.”

“One day, I want to do that, if you do—and I know you do,” I laugh. “Your cock started leaking like a broken faucet when you thought about stuffing my tight little ass.”

“Stop,” Gordon moans.

“Really stop?”

“No. Keep talking.”

“Mmm. Gordon and Andrea underneath a tree, f-u-c-k-i-n-g...”

Gordon’s hand slaps down on my bottom, and I yelp. He yelps along with me, both of us shocked. “I am so, so sorry,” he gasps. “I don’t know what...”

“I was being naughty, and you spanked me.”

“I would never do that.”

“You just did that. It wasn’t violent. It was playful. There’s a difference, and you and I know what it is. How it feels to be comfortable together.”

“Oh. God. Yes. Yes, comfortable with you. Andrea, this house would turn into a home if you shared it with me. And we would go under the trees. And we’d make love in every room.” Gordon’s cock starts to pound my pussy as my hand squeezes down to find my clit. His thumb strokes across my asshole once more, then he squeezes both my cheeks, rubbing and caressing them.

“It would. Wait... Me? Here?”

“With the cat, of course.”

“With the cat,” I agree.

What the hell am I agreeing to?

“Will you live here with me?” Gordon whispers, pounding me harder. My feet leave the floor. My pussy complains as the pleasure and fullness collide. Too much. Too much.

“Yeeeeeesss!” I wail as I come, pussy erupting, hot spurts of liquid coating my thighs and falling to the floor.

“Andrea, are you okay?”

“That’s okay. Women do that. Sometimes, when they’re comfortable—and their boyfriend is a sex god,” I whimper, still riding the pleasure that comes in waves.