Page 42 of Living Hell

Iona’s hands left my head and she lifted her shirt and pulled up her white lace bra with it. Her tits were perfect handfuls, ready to be held, and licked, and sucked.

“You’re exquisite. You’re my fantasy, Iona.”

Biting her lip, she was eagerly waiting for me to do something but I wanted a moment to gaze at her just like this. Her tits framed by lace and cloth with her eyes darkening as she stared at me. Anticipation and heat and lust and everything I had wanted from her for so long, was rolling off her body, all for me.

“Tyler, do you want me to beg?”

I nodded. If she begged for me touch her or even, to use her, that might make me cream my pants. This had been building up for years and I didn’t know if I could hold back much longer.

“Please, Tyler.” She pushed me to the ground and stood. Before I could ask what she was doing, Iona unzipped her jean shorts and slid them down, along with her white lace thong.

“Oh Christ,” I said as I stared at her neatly trimmed triangle of curls at the apex of her thighs.

If I thought that was a surprise, I never expected what came next. She leaned back on the table and brought her feet up, spreading open for me. I watched in shock and longing as Iona slipped her hand to her clit and began to rub.

“Tyler, please, eat me. I’m so wet. Please.”

She wasn’t lying. This woman was dripping, and her fingers glistened as she fucked herself.

Crawling over, I gave her what she wished. My tongue slid over her folds and I couldn’t hold back my groan. She tasted like peaches covered in cream with just a dash of spice. If we had eaten dinner before this, Iona would have been the best dessert I ever tasted.

I glanced up to find her gaze locked on me as she sucked her lower lip. She released a small whimper with every swirl of my tongue. I reached up and palmed her tit, brushing my thumb across her pebbled nipple.

I wanted to suck on those perky tips, but they had to wait while I gave her what she desired.

She bared her teeth and with a sharp intake of air, her head fell back.

It was time to tell her what I expected.

“That’s it, Iona. Now come for me.”

She groaned when I took my hand that was on her thigh and slipped two fingers inside her. Her hips shifted back and forth. She must have liked what I was doing as it wasn’t long before I felt her tighten around me.

When she cried my name, I broke the promise to myself. The one I made when I was a teenager—where I would carry her to bed and make love to her.

Instead, I stood while her legs were still trembling and with a few tugs and pulls, I had my pants and boxer briefs at my ankles. I didn’t even bother to remove my clothing before I positioned myself between her legs.

“Yes,” she cried again and instead of hesitating—instead of reminding myself who this woman was to me—I pushed forward.

I’d like to say I felt shame at that moment when I fucked her on the picnic table, the pristine tablecloth wrinkling and the plates sliding to the ground. But what little honor I had in my life was shoved aside by the desperate need to be inside Iona. To be as close to her, body and soul, for all the years we lost.

I was like an addict pleading for one last hit, swearing to give it up but knowing the hollow words were only a means to an end. A moment where I saw the longing in her eyes, and it was me she begged for.

My fingers found her clit as my cock slid in and out. She felt wonderful and I had to slow down or I would never last.

I thought if I lowered my body, bent my head to her chest, it would be more intimate. But we were outdoors, surrounded by grass and sky. I tasted her on my lips as I licked them and held her tight.

“You feel so good. Don’t stop,” she whispered.

“You like that? Like it when I fuck you?”

She nodded and gasped, too lost in bliss to respond. Her dark eyes sparkled and the flush on her tanned skin only added to her beauty.

Iona tightened around me as her eyes rolled back in her head. I watched her unravel and whimper my name. It’s what I had wanted and fantasized about for years.

As she came, her back arched causing her tits to rise and she couldn’t be more striking. Iona was better than any fantasy, she was a goddess.

I stood, smoothing my hand down her stomach and didn’t hold back. My pace quickened. The air thick with the sweet smell of grass and our bodies, and I felt my balls tighten.

My orgasm hit hard, and I grasped the edge of the table. My other hand settled on her hip and pulled her tight. I never wanted this connection to end.

When it did, I fell forward. I was a gasping, heaping mess that lay on her slick stomach. She was warm when my body wanted to cool down, but I didn’t care. It was Iona I held, and I made a promise to myself to never let her go again.

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