Ray walked Neely in reverse, keeping hold, till her calves bumped the bed. Then he was guiding her down onto the covers with his frame still tight to hers, easing her fully onto the bed while staying close on top, the trunk of his body between her parted legs. This was it—the roller coaster car had clack-clack-clacked its tortuous crawl, rising vertiginously high, till it hung on the brink, ready to make that first almighty plunge. Ray’s body hovered above her, his gaze locked fast into hers, one hand reaching down, steering himself to where her aching sex awaited. So sinful, so wrong, wasn’t it? Or had Danny been right? What she did with her sexuality was her choice …
“This might hurt a little at first,” Ray told her, and despite all her flustered thoughts, she felt an impulse to reassure.
“It’s okay, I … There was an … incident … with a tampon when I was a teen …” Why the hell she had a need to divulge that embarrassing morsel, she was not sure. Broken hymen aside, there was the not inconsequential fact of his being so damn big, while she was so untried. Oh God … Oh God, be gentle … Don’t bloody say that, it’s such a cliché … She reached up with one hand and clutched his arm.
“You’re beautiful, Neely Jordan.”
The lips of her sex yielded, and Ray’s cock popped inside her, making her gasp at the sheer sensation of being entered. He did not stop, guiding his thick shaft on a slow but relentless exploration inside her. Neely released a stifled, breathy cry as Ray’s cock stretched her; his robust upper body descended onto her slimness as he penetrated, inch by mind-blowing, virginity-spearing inch. She could have given her pussy its first filling with her sex-toy weeks ago, but this was the proper way, scary and delicious, however sore, however sinful—with a strong, athletic man on the other end, capable of powering his way forcefully inside her should he choose. If you were going to defy your God and all you believed, you should at least do it honestly, with a beautiful muscular guy sliding his ‘throbbing man-rod’ inside your tight gripping cunt right to the base, making you cry out in pain and wonder.
“Ohhh, so good …” The words were Ray’s, his cock burying itself deep as his body sank onto hers. He was heavy on top and huge within her, his dick stretching out her poor vulnerable pussy like she could never have imagined for all her reading. His hands slid around her and held her to him, as they connected. “God, I’ve wanted this,” he groaned to her. She gripped his flexing shoulders in return, imploring help and succour from the same man whose erection was thrust so far inside her. He clutched her, pectorals pressing down on her breasts, cock at an embedded halt. His breath was warm on her face. “You okay, sweetheart?”
“Mm-hmm, mm-hmm, yeah …” She wasn’t sure whether she really was. He was there between her legs, manhood fitted tight at last. Both the thought and the sensation overwhelmed her. Her breathless affirmation, however, seemed enough for him. His knees became a fulcrum, digging into the bed, as he pushed himself onto her, commencing to ease his cock back and forth. He slid now in regular motion against her tight inner walls, the wet friction accentuating the sense of his cock’s massive presence, making her aware of her sex’s tender recesses as never before. The soft fleshy core of her girlhood was being ripped through, broken hymen or no, by the great siege-weapon she had allowed inside. Each time the head searched and probed, she whimpered and squeezed tears from her eyes, tightening her hold on him, taking comfort in the kisses with which he peppered the side of her face.
“So beautiful. So tight inside you, darling.” She loved the words and the animal tenderness with which they were spoken. Excitement began to overtake both trepidation and discomfort. She welcomed him, and the industry of his hard shaft within her. Ray’s thrusting grew steadily in momentum, pelvis working harder, cock driving into her with smooth insistence. She was opening up, her once-chaste chute finding space to accommodate all his length and girth—another miracle of nature—before contracting around him, clutching him in a hot wet embrace. His chest moved on hers, firm muscle skimming hard nipples, face hovering above, a mask of erotic intensity. Concern for her warred so clearly with desire and she felt a similar conflict within herself; she wanted him to take the pleasure so long denied him but feared the full expression of his lust. “You okay, sweetheart? You like me deep inside you like this?” His voice was constricted with passion, yet still playful. The effect was irresistible.
“Mm-hmm, mm-hmm …” She closed her eyes as she responded and bit her lip, knowing it would only urge him to greater efforts. Instantly he surged, forcing a scream from her lungs as his cock drove deeper, harder than before. He sustained the increased level of thrusting, body shunting above her, man-rod stroking into her fluidly so that she cried out on each penetrating dive. Searing, sharp and masterful—a kind of glorious agony. This was it, virginity torpedoed. Her boyfriend had claimed it and now he was driving the victory home. He’s fucking me, he’s fucking me, oh Lord, oh God, I’m being so, so FUCKED …
To mitigate his more rigorous efforts, Ray prised his upper body off her, brushing back her hair and stroking her face, all the while maintaining those full thrusts. “God, Neely, that feels so good. You’re so amazing, so fucking hot.” Her hand shot up instinctively and clutched his hair for additional contact, some intimate physical response to all he was doing. He took it as validation and fucked her even more stridently, filling up her cunt with every lunge of his cock, making her cry out more with passion now than pain. “Look at me,” he told her, as her head lolled. “Look at me, Neely.” His words brought her back into focus and she stared at him, the azure blue of his eyes burning into her as he delivered his strokes.
It was scary, but hell it was amazing too. Fuck Space Mountain, this was the ride of her life. A terrible, sinful betrayal, but at least it was bloody awesome. Giving herself to her boy, offering herself up completely, letting him plunge that great shaft inside her wetness like happened in the story. Only she was no Sapphire. She had a guy to whom it was worth giving yourself, worth opening yourself.
That was what she was doing now, legs rising and folding about Ray’s moving ass before her conscious mind knew it. Whether she’d picked it up from Odyssey or made the move through sheer instinct was not clear to her. All she knew was that she had stretched wide for her lover, giving herself to him and her own body’s neglected desires. Ray gripped thick strands of her hair, even as she gripped his, and took full advantage of her spread thighs, ramming himself to her depths. “God, Neely, fuck! Oh my God, don’t take your eyes off me.”
She didn’t, staring into his sweating visage, absorbing the rage of his lust and loving how it was fused with affection however hard he fucked. “Oh God, Ray, oh God …” It was blasphemy, but that only proved how insanely sweet this was. Taking all of him—heart, soul, and rigid cock. The pain was giving way completely, as she accepted her shafting, to a sense of being erotically, emotionally overpowered. Ray hadn’t been right for her, not by a stretch, but he had wrested her body and affection to himself. This beautiful, wicked guy deserved her and he could have her any way he wanted. The clutch of her heels to his ass and the squelch of her cunt around that pumping shaft were testimony to her surrender.
Neely might have given vent to her inner hysteria, had the breath not been so persistently knocked from her body by the impact of Ray’s. She finally released a crazed giggle when her lover scrabbled to the bottom of the bed hauling her along with him, never once losing the tight connection of their sexes. “Oh my, oh God, what are you doing?” He dragged her to the edge, then his feet found the carpet and he hoisted her ass free of the bed, recommencing his hard fuck-action from standing.
“I want you to see it, Neely Jordan.” His face was drenched in perspiration like he was dripping lust. “I want you to see my cock pumping in and out of you. Look, darling.”
What else could she do but stare past her oscillating tits the length of her slim body, to where that thickness, that great man-length was sliding wet from inside her only to vanish again, swallowed up to the hilt in her accepting sheath? Oh God … To see it as she felt it, so big inside her—that huge, greased rod pistoning into her tight saved-up hole, on the end of such a prime sweating specimen of maleness. Wrong, wicked and extravagantly, gloriously lewd. Not two hours earlier she had been chatting chastity with the youth-group teens, playing up her role—Alton Bridge’s poster girl for virtue. If they could see her now, stripped naked and spread apart, getting her pussy reamed out by her boyfriend’s big dick … The thought should have made her squirm with shame, so why did it serve as accelerant to her already blazing lust? Her hand was stretching to frig herself even before Ray’s instruction: “Go on, sweetheart, get yourself off. Let me see you do it.”
Neely’s sex was fully flowered, clitoris jutting like a wet fig, eager for the touch of her fingers. She worked herself frantically from the off, hot nub singing under her touch. The brakes were off. She was beyond shame, beyond the religion’s restraints. This inner fire was no way holy—under its devilish influence her body was a sweat-slick expanse of taut responsive flesh, nipples so spiked she massaged them once more to relieve the pressure. Her pelvis was buffer to every smacking impact of Ray’s loins, cunt absorbing each cramming stroke. She needed release like salvation; her fingertips spun frenzied on her pulsing button to speed her there.
“Come for me, Neely,” he urged. “Come all over my cock.” It was an easy step, the final seal of their intimacy. How marvellous that her inhibitions had melted to nothing, that passion had sundered every mental barrier, so that she could do this—come screaming, cunt-muscles spasming fiercely around Ray’s protected cock and washing him in her hot secretions. She was out of her head, orgasm exploding through her so that she thrashed on the bed like her lover was shaking her out. The babble from her throat was an exorcism of desire from her body. Fuck, oh sweet fuck … She was incapable of forming the words, but they sure as hell echoed in her head.
Her body was sizzling in the aftermath when Ray reached under her ass and scooped her to him, so she had to tighten trembling legs about his standing form. He clutched her back and she wrapped arms around the bulk of his shoulders, hanging still and sweating on him, his unspent cock huge within her. Her pussy, she realised, was leaking copiously, no doubt drenching his balls and upper thighs. She buried her face in his neck. How unexpected and beautiful, how tender and totally hot, to be cradled in her post-coital state. She could sense it was a brief hiatus before her partner fulfilled his own need, but she cherished every moment of sweet stillness.
“So fucking sexy, it’s insane.” His voice was hoarse with unexpended lust. “I had no idea. No fucking idea.”
Neely had no time to dwell on his meaning before he dropped her back onto his bed, still on top and tightly slotted. She clung hard, bracing herself for all he had to give. Ray withdrew every inch but one and slammed back in with a near-possessed fury. It was prelude to a bout of urgent fucking, his face registering something beyond sexual desire. Not that she could focus now—head rolling on the covers, moans issuing freely from her mouth—as he thrust into her orgasm-raddled body. Vaguely she wondered how much abuse a condom could be expected to take. Through her haze, she sensed his desperation, all thoughts of proving his stud credentials displaced by a craving for release. His words confirmed it: “Oh God, Neely, I want to come, I need to fucking come inside you …” He ploughed his way towards that happy conclusion.
“Oh God, oh fuck, Jesus …” Not the prayer she might have hoped to hear earlier that summer, but somehow, she welcomed it. “Oh God, Neely …” He gripped her fit to crush the air from her lungs, then exploded into orgasm. His body went rigid as he pumped his load, contained she could but hope by the rubber. Whatever her fears, she joyed to glimpse her love’s face transfixed by agonised ecstasy. His climax paralysed him some seconds more, then it subsided, as did his body onto hers.
“God …” His arms pressed into the cover, so he rested lightly on her, the two of them panting and perspiring quietly together. “Oh God …” Neely wondered about God’s precise opinion on her current state, but the continued presence of Ray’s cock inside her became a more pressing concern. He recovered and set about extricating himself, gripping the condom carefully at the base of his shaft before withdrawal. Neely moaned and ached at the sensation of his slow departure from her pussy; she had never thought of it before as empty until his cock left it so. He rolled off her and she watched with bleared curiosity as he snapped the prophylactic from his flagging member, its end ballooning with the thick white fluid he had dispelled into it. “Let me get rid of this, sweetheart.”
She watched his departure from the room, admiring that sculpted ass through the delirium induced by her deflowering. ‘Deflowering’ what a quaint term. How pretty and medieval. Better than some of the euphemisms church-types tended to use. ‘Defiled’, ‘soiled’, ‘impure’ she was sure Jack Simmons had resorted to all of those. What have you done, Neely? How could you? You’ve sacrificed your purity! Even by Evangelical standards, he was old-fashioned. Of course, it wasn’t the pastor who chiefly worried her.
What did God think of his servant in her newly fucked state? She hoped Danny was right, that getting it on with your boyfriend was a paltry matter in the grand scheme. Neely wanted to feel that, but shame was creeping back as euphoria departed. She needed Ray back with her. She needed her man’s hard body and tender caress to distract from the sense of treachery. Awaiting him she slipped under the covers and huddled.
“Hey.” He was standing in the doorway, naked and gorgeous, a filled champagne flute in each hand. “How’re you doing, Neely J?”
“Happy you’re here.” She smiled, the melancholy easing as he joined her beneath the covers. They sat up and sipped together, and she did not mind that the sheet slipped free of her breasts. Hardly much point in modesty now. “Are we drinking to us again?” she asked, leaning her chin on his shoulder.
“Nothing I’d rather drink to.” He stroked her face as he studied her. “Not in this world.”
She beamed, imagining them properly united, sharing everything from living-space to the deepest secrets of each other’s heart, in the sanctifying bonds of marriage. Ray would never be a regular churchman—that’d be too weird anyhow. But maybe he’d find his path to a faith he could express in his own way, in keeping with his politics and his journalism. He was principled, however much he condemned himself. And that would increase. Her love would strengthen his moral compass and then they’d make a life together. She’d still be a church-worker and God would forgive any sexual misdemeanour that had kicked things off. They’d forge something special and have lots of sex like the sex they’d just had. The sex I’ve just had. Me, Neely Jordan …
She kissed Ray long and deep. He reciprocated with a sexy tenderness that made everything seem right. Then they hugged and were silent together as he stroked her hair. Champagne and the aftermath of passion and the end of an emotionally wringing day combined in fatigue and she slumped against his chest, till he laid her into his bed. She was falling asleep in her lover’s bed. How unutterably delicious.
“That’s it, darling.” His voice caressed her along with his palm. “Go to sleep. Because the sooner you do, the sooner you’ll wake up … and then I can make love to you all over again.”
Make love to me … That’s what he had done, gently then wildly, but all with love. Love that she’d shared with him. That she would continue to share, on and on for a long, long time …
~~~~
Neely awoke, she had no idea how much later, from dreams of guilty lust and the love which might redeem it. Her pussy throbbed sore, and the bed was empty. She ran a hand over the crumpled sheets for a hazy moment, before realising that her lover was hardly likely to flee from her when she was in his bed. The candles about the room had been blown out, but the bedside lamp still cast its golden-yellow glow across her. She was lying with the bedclothes about her waist, breasts still uncovered. For a moment she wondered whether Ray’s eyes had lingered on her naked skin while she lay sleeping. She hoped they had but wondered also whether he had not thought to cover her up before leaving the room.
To use the bathroom? She assumed so, but when he had not returned some minutes later, she began to doubt it. When several further lonely minutes had passed, she guessed at the kitchen and a late-night snack; his sexual exertions had been strenuous after all. She left it a couple more and could bear it no longer. An innocent girl freshly fucked needed her virginity’s owner there beside her. She would find out where he was and what might have drawn him from his girlfriend’s warmth.
But she would do it with sexy cunning, and allure, so as not to betray her need for reassurance. However great that was, however justified, ‘needy’ was not something she wanted him to see. Standing up she tugged the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around herself above her breasts. Despite the dull pain between her thighs, Neely slipped silently from the room to seek out her man.
The only light in the hallway leaked pale from under the door on her left—Ray’s study, she recalled, where he wrote up all his copy. That was the answer. She’d sprung her visit on him and he must have had insufficient time to write up his article on Bristol locals serving in Afghanistan. Rather than make her feel uncomfortable he’d waited till she was asleep, then slipped discreetly out of bed to meet his deadline. How sweet of him. She almost tip-toed back to bed so as not to disturb but could not resist looking in on her lover-man, draped only in the sheet. Maybe she could let it slip a few inches, give him the merest flash of nipple before leaving him to struggle with his words, the naughty image playing in his mind. The door was lying slightly ajar and she pushed it open in a smooth motion so as not to alert him. Hoping to spring her sexy surprise.
Ray was sitting at his desk, back turned, at the opposite side of the room. He was illumined by the computer screen, intent at his work. A tall, angled lamp cast further light on his task. Neely padded up behind him as lightly as she could, arms folded across her front, gleeful that he was unaware. She hoped he wouldn’t be too startled when she jumped him, but surely he would forgive his gorgeous flaming-redhead. Like the redhead she could see over his shoulder gracing the screen. A recumbent naked redhead, hair splayed over a dark-navy pillow, sheet crumpled around her middle so that her pale smooth breasts were on display as she slept. Neely’s brain seized with a shock that shivered its way across her whole anatomy.
She was staring at an image of herself.
It seemed so unlikely, so fundamentally wrong, that for an instant she failed to register the truth. As though Ray was bizarrely searching out Neely lookalikes on the internet to distract himself from late-night work. But it was most certainly her, however exotic and unlike herself she appeared. Her boyfriend’s digital camera lay on the table, plugged into the USB port. Having been snapped and uploaded, Neely watched in hollow-stomached silence as he saved her in a photo file, still oblivious to the real girl’s hovering presence. He opened up his email account and she looked on, cold with disbelief, as he typed: Carlotta−Here’s your evidence. Satisfied? Ray.
“Who’s Carlotta?” The words escaped her lips as from an automaton before he could carry out the attachment.
“Shit!” Ray leaped from his office chair with such force that it skated a foot across the carpet. “Neely …” She could see it in his face, a rapid panicked assessment of how much damage had been done. “You scared the crap out of me.”
“Who’s Carlotta?”
“She works for the Tribune. She’s been doing some research for me on a story. I had to get some facts and figures to her for morning.” He lied so easily. So instantly.
“Then why are you sending her my photograph?”
“I’m not sending …”
“Yes you are. Ray, why have you taken that picture of me? What’s going on?” Hard on the heels of shock and confusion was coming anger.
“Neely, I … I …”
“What’s going on, Ray? Why the hell are you taking pictures of me naked in your bed? Sending them to some stranger?” The sense of violation was making her sick. She clutched the sheet tight to her chest and tried to reign in the trembling which threatened to overtake her. “What is this, Ray? Tell me!”
“It’s … It’s …” Not as bad as it looks? Not what it seems? Even Ray didn’t have the nerve to attempt such lines in the circumstance. The normally unflappable male seemed confounded. “I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have done this, Neely. It was a game. It started as a game, but …”
“A game?” The word didn’t make sense to Neely in this context. “What do you mean? What are you talking about, Ray? I’m your girlfriend! You’ve… You’ve been playing a game with me?” The thought made her head spin. It made her physically sick. “With … With her? With me as …”
“I should have stopped it. I meant to. Tried to. I’ll delete the picture. I’ll do it now.” She watched in mortified silence as his fingers stumbled about the keyboard, bringing up the offending picture and erasing it.
“Give me the camera.” He looked around at her, rattled and off-balance. “Give me the damn camera, Ray!”
“Yes, of course.” He reached to unplug but she beat him to it, grabbing the device in one hand and yanking it free of the USB cable. “Neely …” He turned to her, hands outstretched in attempted appeasement. “I was finishing something, ending it. A stupid arrangement. Something that should never have happened in the first place. But it meant nothing. It means nothing.”
He reached to her, but she recoiled in disgust at the touch of his hand, backing off from the stranger who had fucked her. “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me, Ray. Get away from me!” Gripping camera and sheet, she fled to the bedroom and frantically searched for discarded clothes. No time to break down, no time to rage—not with him there. She had to get out, get away from this lying sick bastard and whatever he was trying to do to her. Underwear she grabbed from the floor, struggling into the sodden scrap of her knickers and her pretty bra while still endeavouring to keep the sheet wrapped about her. Nakedness she could no longer bear. She struggled into the dress and grabbed her shoes one-handed. Then she hurried, past Ray who stood dumbstruck on the landing, downstairs to the living-room to put the light on, find her bag and phone, arrange getting away from this backdrop to betrayal and shame.
