You’re so big, she screams. I want more.
I give up the spanking because I need both hands to hold her hips for my furious rutting. I pant and grip tighter. I wrench her body flush against mine and she rides me, reverse-cowboy-style. The ocean water tickles our knees, and I have one hand feverishly working her clit while the other clamps her torso to me.
Her head twists around and we kiss in a savage meeting of teeth and tongues. I work her harder and she creams all over me again and again.
My breath comes out in tiny irregular gasps and the thick head of my cock pulses beneath my hand.
A scratch against the rock has me flicking my eyes open.
She’s awake and her big eyes are round with emotion. Wonder? Disgust? Confusion?
I can’t read it because lust has clouded my vision. I don’t close my eyes, though, and recapture the beach, her ass, her screams because real Ava is better than dream Ava even if she’s across the fire from me. Even if she’s fucking terrified of my beast.
Shit, who can blame her? I’d be terrified if I was a girl, even a big-hipped beauty like Ava.
She can’t take me. No one can.
I rub myself roughly knowing that this is the only pleasure I’ll know, other than a one-time hand job that might come my way if I open my wallet. I can pay for that. I can pay for a mouth or even two. But I’ll never feel anyone’s cunt walls around my cock, especially not the angel across from me.
But I use her anyway. She stares at me and I stare right back, rubbing and tugging and imagining her rising from her bed and coming over to me and taking me all in from tip to root.
“It’s just a hand job,” I grit out in a perverse echo of her earlier words.
Her tongue flicks out to wet her lips. “Why don’t you let me help you?”
“Because I want it too much.” I can’t keep the honesty back, not when her luminous eyes follow my every movement. And then as the orgasm winds all my nerves and tendons tight, I close my eyes and explode in my hands. For all the buildup, the release is less than satisfying.
When I look across the fire, she’s on her knees. A chill hits me.
Now that she’s had me in her hands, this half-baked satisfaction is all that’s left for me. Anger fills me up and then drains away as quickly as it came. How is this her fault? It’s a curse.
My madre told me this when I was ten and my cock was the size of a beer bottle. I was given a girl breaker. That’s what she called it because I only lived to hurt women. I was the devil’s spawn, she said. My mother was violated and she became pregnant but the baby girl was eaten by the baby boy in the womb. When I grew older, I was the image of her rapist and my cock was the instrument of the devil.
She tried to beat the demon out of me but it didn’t work. I had to take a life before I believed.
“How’d you kill the girl?” she asks, breaking into my reverie.
I use the sand again to clean myself up and shove my used cock down my pants in hopes that it will forget about sex.
“You’re pretty hard up if you want to hear snuff stories before you go to bed,” I mock.
Instead of getting upset, she tilts her head and inspects me. “You’re pretty hot when you’re angry.”
Whether she said it to cool my jets or make me laugh, I’m not sure, but it works. I start laughing and she cracks a smile in response. Jesus, this girl.
I suppose she deserves an answer. It could even serve as a warning and then maybe she’d stop looking at me like I had something worthwhile to give her. Public service announcement: Big dick can kill. Also, I’m an asshole.
I lean back on my not very comfortable rock and start talking. “When I was fifteen, an older girl asked me to prom. I was stoked. She had heard a rumor about my size and wanted to find out if it was true. I’d only made out with a couple other girls and both had run away when we got to the heavy petting stage, but this girl had experience and was tired of her pencil-dick teenage lovers.”
“Her words or yours?”
“Hers. That’s how she asked me out. ‘Hey, Rafael, the word on the street is you have a monster in your pants. How about you let me pop your cherry after prom. The pencil dicks I’ve been dating couldn’t find the G-spot if it was a map in Quake.’ Prom was three weeks away and I followed her like a puppy. We made out a few times leading up to the event and so she felt me up under my pants, under my shorts. She knew what she was getting into and I figured—given her experience—that she’d know if I was too big. When she didn’t call off the date, I figured we were good to go. Prom night comes. It’s pretty much a blur because I’m just a walking hard-on at this point.”