Sunday, July 3, 2011


Hundreds of pounds of Jordan Staal were on top of Cary in a heartbeat.  He mashed his lips down, forcing her mouth open and kissing her fiercely.  If they were in a movie, this is where he’d throw his pirate sword to the deck of the ship and rip open her bodice.  One press of his hips and Carrie was glad her tongue was too busy to talk.  It may have been the most unladylike moment of her life.  

Thank God he’s going to fuck me again.

There had been a moment, laying there laughing with him, where Cary was unsure why Jordan had stayed.  He’d seen his conquest and determined they were equally confused.  No debts were owed, no promises made.  He could walk away without being a jerk.

Of course then she’d have had to order all the porn the hotel offered.  Could you get a vibrator from room service?  It would be much easier if he just stayed.

And now, as he shifted his knee to spread her thighs apart, Cary was about to scream.  Her nerve endings spun like pinwheels and hormone fireworks exploded inside her stomach.  She ached for him, to be properly and gorgeously fucked.

I will remember everything.

She memorized the hard planes of his back beneath her fingers, the warm boy scent of the skin at his neck.  A day-old beard bristled against her face.  Jordan’s hands were as strong as his mouth, setting her right where he wanted.  But he never touched her down there.  Instead his throbbing erection grew to an impossible size against her thigh.

Cocky son of a bitch.

He was telling her everything without saying a word: I know you’re wet for me, I know you’re ready.  You want me so bad.

Of course he was right.

She took a deep breath as her hand felt over the ridges of his rock hard abs.  Alongside her head, huge biceps were flexed as they held her tight to his kiss.  Cary was afraid she might start to cry.  Then she reached the thick pole he’d been spearing her with and gasped.

“Jesus, Jordan,” she said right against his lips.

He laughed a little, but the stroke of her hand was too incredible as she attempted to judge his size.  He didn’t know what kind of guys she’d been with, but he could guarantee she’d never been with a guy like him.

“How could I forget that?”

She brought him to the spot and his tip prodded at her swollen, slick entrance.  He rubbed along her slit twice, nudging himself just enough to part her lips and promise things to come.

I’m going to die so, so happy.

Jordan smiled down at her.  “First time all over again.”

Cary shifted down, pushing herself onto the first inch of his dick with a shudder.  She could not believe this had ever happened, forget it ever happening again.  Her brain was on red alert, her skin tingled.  Jordan-fucking-Staal.

She said, “This time, make me remember.”

Jordan was shaking.  His muscles vibrated like he was double-shifting in the second period and it was miles to the bench.  Like he’d been holding a squat or plank push-up for hours.  The moment his pounding cock touched the hot streak of her entrance, he thought he was going to blow his load.

Control yourself.

It wasn’t easy.  She returned his kiss like she was practicing to suck his dick.  Her skin was supple in his hands and her hips rolled up to meet his with increasing force.  He positioned himself then smiled at her just in case he killed her on the first thrust.

Jordan had a lot of first times.  Where there was a second time, it was often an hour later, waking the girl from a drunken stupor with his hand in her snatch and going again before he passed out for real.  A few of his first times, with girls he considered “real” in his life, had been sober and intentional, if poorly planned.  And now he was about to get a mulligan with someone he thought might actually be able to handle him.  He didn’t care if she only wanted to be with him because he played for her favorite team.  That made him an idol, a god.  

“Make me remember,” she said.

He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and called on every saint with a Canadian city named after them to help him.  Then he slowly, oh so slowly pressed himself into her pussy.

Holy sweet fucking hell.

Jordan sucked in what might have been his last breath to keep from coming that instant.  Instead his brain melted and dripped down his spinal cord, setting his blood free to pour southward.  Every ounce of testosterone in his massive body rushed to his cock, dying to bust loose.

Cary moaned.  The sound eased from her throat like a note from a saxophone, like a snake charmer calling to his body.  He buried his face in her neck and fought to hold on.  It was a long, long way to the bottom of that hole.

When he finally felt the soft round of her ass press to his thighs, when he was finally screwed all the way into her socket, only then did he exhale.

“Fucking hell,” she whispered.

“Fucking heaven,” he replied.

No way I forgot this.

Jordan was afraid to move.  He feared opening the gate and starting the race – he was packing a lot of horsepower.  His dick pounded with hormones and anticipation.

There’s no way.

Unless there had been a priest handy at the Marriott last night to perform an exorcism, there was no chance Cary could have forgotten being possessed by Jordan Staal.  Her body rioted, poured so full of his cock she didn’t have room to breathe.  But she didn’t need it – she bet on passing out the second he moved anyway.  There were no signs that something so large had never passed this way before.

“We must,” she started.

“…. not have,” he finished for her.  His bright blue eyes stared down in disbelief.  Cary knew that Jordan never, ever failed to seal the deal.  If they were right, there was a first time for that before the first time for this.  And now both were over.

I’m such a slut.

Do-overs were one thing, even if you didn’t remember.  But this was light-of-day, wide awake fucking a complete and total stranger.  Well, he wasn’t a stranger.  He was a fantasy.  She had fantasized about this.  Maybe that was good enough?  They’d obviously thought about it last night, maybe even tried.  Could Cary take the actual deed from one of her dirty daydreams and superimpose it on the night before?  

“I wanted to,” Jordan said.  “I know I wanted to.”

If she wasn’t mistaken, the look in his eyes was an apology.  He was sorry he hadn’t fucked her last night, and that he’d started so unceremoniously this morning.   And they were still doing it –well, they hadn’t even really started.

“I’d say you could have bought me breakfast first,” she smiled.  

“I will.  When we’re done.”  He spoke quickly, like swearing an oath.  His face was reddening.  A vein stood out along his neck and his hard-on beat like a bass drum inside her, soaking itself in her sweetness.  He was struggling.

Jordan Staal wants me so bad.

Cary couldn’t have been more confident if she’d come back from the future with winning lottery numbers.  He was dying for it.  Jordan was the spark and she held the fuse.  She gave him a sly smile.  

“I don’t plan on ever being done with you.”

It was like a checkered flag.  Cary waved once and Jordan floored it, leaping off the line and going top speed in seconds.  The first stroke was a gust, knocking her down.  The second was a gale, flattening her out.  That impossibly long, incredibly thick erection worked into her like an oil well.  Jordan moved smoothly, rhythmically and went deeper every time.  He drilled for pleasure.  Cary heard a voice that sounded like her own sob out.


Jordan’s huge hands were locked on her hips, swiveling her down along his raging shaft.  She twisted with him and earned a loud grunt for her efforts.  His shoulders rolled down over her.

“Don’t do that, I’m gonna come too soon,” he panted.

He’s going to come too soon.  Over me.

A victory march played in her mind.

Jordan had to breathe.  Holding his breath made it easier to hold onto his orgasm, but it heightened the sensation of every movement.  Despite his warning, Cary could not just lie still and let him fuck her.  She writhed and lifted, getting what she needed as Jordan did the same.  Only he needed less – just to be crammed inside her gloriously tight prize.  So he had to think fast.

“What makes you come, Cary? Tell me what you want.”

When in doubt, ask.  Jordan had no trouble asking.  Girls were like locks and you could spin the dial for days without cracking the code.  Plus, it made them feel in charge.  And it let you know how dirty they wanted to get.

“I don’t,” she tried.  “Keep going.”

Oh I’ll go soon.

That was the trouble – this girl was pushing him too far too fast.  He was in danger of losing it already.  So he slid his hands beneath her ass, lifted her hips into his lap and sat up as best he could, picking a position slightly less comfortable for him.  One rough finger came around and stroked strongly over her exposed clit.

“Holy shit,” she sobbed.  He worked the little pearl beneath his callused fingertip, circles and back, then slipped a finger on each side and rubbed up and down.  Cary’s back arched and her ass lifted clear off his hand.

That’s it.

He was ruthless.  Cary whispered and cursed, but he kept going.  He ran a hand over her taut stomach, felt it flutter as the tension built in her perfect body.  He wanted to crack it like a safe.

“You like that?” he whispered, pressing in a particular place that made her twitch.  She gasped.  “I want you, Cary.”

She came with a strangled cry, throwing her head back to the mattress.  None of the porn star performance bullshit Jordan always saw, girls who thought they had to sell it like a used car.  He could feel her body tense hard then go supernova, launching away.  Looking down over the exquisite girl in his arms, Jordan felt like he was king of the world.

And there wasn’t a second to waste.  He dropped Cary back to the bed and whispered, “My turn.”  He slipped back inside her like he was coming home and it blocked everything else from his mind.  Working against her so hard he should have called a doctor, Jordan quickly brought himself right up to a boil.  Cary held onto his shoulders, pressing herself down to meet this thrusts and holding his gaze as he fucked her ragged.

“Come on, Jordan,” she said.

Even soaked as she was, Jordan felt friction like never before.  His brain buzzed and his vision blurred, his balls drawing up tight to his body in preparation.  He could not believe the words even as he thought them.

This is the best sex of my life.  Jesus, who is this girl?

And he let go.  It was like free falling from a plane, spinning madly while pushed backward and up by the forces of nature.  Jordan poured himself into Cary, bellowing, until his cock and his heart finally sank in exhaustion.

“Fucking right,” he laughed weakly, collapsed on top of her like a pile of bricks.

Cary was gone.  There would be nothing left to find when she never came home.  Crushed happily beneath Jordan’s slumped form, she drew shallow breaths and tried to remember what it had been like to die.

I chose wisely.

If she’d had a choice at all, last night at the bar where a midget may or may not have appeared, Cary knew she’d made the best possible selection.  It might not have been easy, depending which Penguins’ player names were on the ballot.  But if she’d ever had to pick a candidate for the best sex of her life, she’d have voted for Jordan Staal.

Without raising his head, Jordan spoke.  His mouth was against her neck, passing the message as much by vibration.  “Can I tell you something really important?”  

She nodded.  

“Your friends are going to need another room.”


  1. AHHH! So deliciously good. I am in love with this story right now. By far one of my favorites--and I do have such a soft spot for that blond goofball with the body of Adonis! More soon please :)

  2. hahaha!!! I loved it! I just about died right along with Cary!

    Without raising his head, Jordan spoke. His mouth was against her neck, passing the message as much by vibration. “Can I tell you something really important?”

    She nodded.

    “Your friends are going to need another room.”