“Bring food” I texted back.
It was ten o’clock in the evening. I had just stepped out of the shower when I read the text, and my heart filled with dread.
Chris had been my best friend since my parents decided to move from the harsh city to this farming community when I was thirteen. A few years older, he protected me against bullies who were trying to pick on the new kid. That was 10 years ago.
He spent a few years in the army; before deciding that life was not for him. At about the same time, I came home from college with aggressive plans to modernize my parents’ farm. We easily slipped back into our old routines.
Chris’ family had been raising livestock for generations, rooted in tradition; while mine ran a modern fruit orchard, my brothers and I were keen on leveraging new tech. The differences did not stop there.
His family fought about everything. They were emotional and easily triggered. They screamed at each other and threw stuff around. Chris was the youngest in the family; and strangely, the most mature and responsible.
My parents were committed to building a peaceful, quiet existence after years of high-flying, back-stabbing corporate life. My brothers and I were awfully close.
Chris probably needed to escape the chaos at home and clear his head. All this happened many times before.
Something has changed though, a pang stirring in me for months. I found myself staring at his strong back and wanting to touch the muscles underneath. I wondered how his rough cattleman’s hands would feel against my inner thighs. Just the other night, while my dildo was pleasuring me, I saw his face behind my closed eyes. I came wildly at the possibility of Chris between my legs.
I dried my hair; and slipped on my old, most comfortable sundress and my favorite sneakers — perfect for a summer night. I walked to the other wing of the farmhouse and peeked into my parents’ room.
My mom was crocheting in bed; while my dad was snoring, his back to her sewing light.
“Mom, stepping out, ‘kay? Something’s up with Chris tonight.” I had a happy relationship with my parents and my brothers. We communicated openly and honestly. We argue and makeup — love for the family is constant. I have never found the need to lie or hold back.
Mom looked up at me from the glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose. “Oh my. That poor soul. I can’t imagine how that family raised a boy like Chris.” Just the other day, Mom witnessed Chris' mother freak out in the supermarket, turning over magazine displays.
I sat at the foot of her bed and showed her Chris’ text. “He sent me another one of his no-context messages.”
“He is lucky to have you as a friend, my baby girl.” Mom smiled. “Go — do whatever you kids do let off steam. Keep each other safe and try not to stay out all night. ‘Grab a jacket in case it gets cold.”
I kissed my mom on the cheek and lightly descended the stairs. I grabbed my cropped jean jacket in the kitchen just like my mother ordered, even if the night was hot and humid.
Chris’ pick-up pulled up by the back door. I tossed my keys and phone in my jacket pocket and headed out the door.
“Hey, you.” Chris jumped out of the truck to greet me, his well-formed biceps bursting out of his white t-shirt. His long strides took him to the side door just as I got there.
“What’s up, Chris?” I skipped down the kitchen steps and playfully pushed his chest. “What’s with the bossy text, man?”
He opened the door on my side of the truck and gave me his best Clark Kent grin. “Just get in the fucking truck, Beatrice. We’re getting drunk.”
The drive to our spot on the hill was typically a tug of war on what to listen to. I kidded him on his “pedestrian” pop songs but secretly loved them. We agreed on a Bruno Mars playlist.
Midway up the last stretch, we met a police car going in the opposite direction. We slowed down until the windows aligned.
“Good evening, Officer.” Chris greeted respectfully.
I leaned over and waved, “Hey, Uncle Toby! How’s your night?” The sheriff was my mom’s only brother. He was funny and really cool! He has known me and Chris since junior high.
“Quiet. Thanks to the prank you weirdos pulled last Halloween, the high school kids don’t go up the hill to make out anymore.”
“Our best work yet!” He was referring to our staged “couple fight” last October — the last in a series of pranks we do on Halloween.
We asked for Uncle Toby’s okay before we masqueraded as a pair in a martial arts-themed lovers’ quarrel — the last thing we wanted was to get arrested. He even helped choreograph the fight to make sure we don’t cross the line — with me punching, kicking, leaping over cars hoods, and with Chris hulking out, scaring the half-naked kids behind foggy windows.
“What do you have in the back?” Uncle Toby asked Chris.
“Burgers and fries, Sir. Beer for me. Soda for Trixie.” There was very likely no soda back there. We were deep in our twenties. Chris had simply programmed himself to say what the cop wanted to hear.
“Good.” He addressed me. “Trixie, drive the truck back if Chris is drinking. You have my number — call if you bump into an ax murderer. Have a good evening!”
“Bye, Uncle Toby!” I called out.
Chris drove up to the clearing on the hill. The lights from the town were dim from that vantage point. He backed up so that we could climb into the back of the pick-up where a thick quilt, a cooler of cold drinks, and a hot box of burgers and fries were waiting.
I practically flew to the rear cab and took my spot. I switched on the camping lantern and directed the light into the hot box. “Thank god you got some drive-through! I am so hungry!” I began unwrapping, what may be the first of many burgers.
The pick-up bounced as Chris joined me at the back — his 200 pounds of muscle in a 6-foot 2-inch frame made the back sink an inch. “Didn’t you go out on a dinner date tonight? With Jerome from high school?”
I rolled my eyes. “Mmm. He’s a lawyer now, but he is just as insufferable now as he was then. Having a conversation with him was like someone reading me their grocery list. And get this, he ordered food for me.” I bit into my burger.
“Doesn’t sound so bad. If he ordered you steak, mash, fried chicken, corn, a couple of slices of pie ...” My appetite was fodder for his ribbing.
“That’s just it!” I screamed into the night. “He ordered me a fucking salad and grilled salmon. So when he brought me home, I rubbed him halfway to a climax and got out of the car. That’ll teach him to feed me fish! Haha!”
Chris snapped a beer can open. “Well, aside from me and your family, no one knows that you are this scary, carnivorous monster; considering ... you know ... the figure and all.”
I was blessed with genes that gave me huge breasts, a thin waist, and a shapely ass. I was attractive, I knew that — my pouty lips, my most striking feature. Girls envied my naturally shiny, voluminous hair that I grew to my shoulders. Some scouts tried to get my mom to enter me in beauty pageants when I was a teenager. In college, my ready-for-porn looks got me voted “Most Fuckable” in many fraternity polls — or so I heard.
“Regardless. Jerome and me — not happening. Ketchup?” I asked. I dug frantically at the box of warm burgers.
“Deep to left,” Chris said. “Stop making a mess.” He inched closer to where I sat until his face was an inch away from mine, his right hand exploring the box for condiments to my left.
He looked straight into my eyes. My body wished I was being pierced by something other than his stare. Moisture formed in my panties.
“Got it?” I whispered.
“Almost.” He leaned closer, so close that I could feel his hot breath on my chest. His body relaxed, as his right hand triumphantly raised a bunch of tiny packets. “Success!” He slid back to his spot.
Never have I hated a packet of ketchup more. I grabbed one hastily, angrily, and tore it open. The red goo flew through the air and landed on Chris’ pristine white shirt.
“You can say that again.” Chris took a bunch of ketchup packs in his giant paw and squeezed. They exploded onto the front of my dress and my face.
I took what I could and smeared his face and his shirt. His longer limbs struck back in a messy counter-assault. I threw my burger at him and marked him with ketchup where I could.
He finally pinned my arms against the front of the truck bed. “Uncle!” I conceded and he let go of my wrists.
When our laughter died, I asked, “So what’s going on at home? Wanna talk about it?” My sauce-covered face must have looked strange asking that rather serious question.
“That is the last thing I want to do right now. Let’s talk about anything but that. ” Chris looked through me.
I nodded. I never asked him to share more than what he was ready to talk about. Diversion, it is.
We sat in silence. I saw him stare at the red puree dripping into the deep crevice between my breasts, his eyes longing.
I stared back at his torso, imagining the pleasure of taking his shirt off and admiring those muscles the army and farm life built. Images of wild carnal sex filled my thoughts while a sensible voice cautioned.
I stifled that inner buzz-kill. I can’t help myself any longer. I decided I was changing it up tonight.
I shuffled closer to Chris, my bended knees between us, my body leaning into him. I began wiping the ketchup stains on his face and slowly licking my fingers.
“I have a question for you, Chris,” I asked, my thumb just barely leaving my lips.
“Shoot,” he replied under his breath, the rise in his Levi’s apparent.
“Why did you never try to fuck me?” My question caught him off guard. “I mean, you’ve slept with people I know. I have fucked some of your friends. We hook up with strangers. But why was it never us?”
“Not that it never crosses my mind ... you are the hottest girl I know ... if you only knew!” He tripped on his words and laughed nervously.
He paused before his thoughts cleared. “You are too important to me. I can’t lose you and this, the friendship. You are the only good thing in my life. Sex can sour things up, you know?”
I leaned closer to him our lips almost touching, I pivoted to lick the long smudge of red that ran from his neck to his chin seductively. “Or it can make this friendship spicier.”
I wrapped my arm around his neck, massaging his nape. “You love your family and you have been my best friend since I moved here. I find all that very sexy — that and these delicious arms and that V-thing below your abs. You think our friendship can’t survive a bit of fun sex?”
I kissed him lightly on the lips — the first time our lips touched in ten years.
“I want you to fuck me, Chris,” I stated what I wanted. I kissed him lightly all around his neck, as my hands explored his shoulders, his chest. He sat, motionless.
I was pressing my heaving breasts against him, needy. “I promise to slut it up for you. You can call me dirty names while you fuck me sore. That’s how you like it, right?” I begged.
I felt his hand at the small of my back. “God, you look ... feel like a fucking wet dream.” I felt the pressure in his pants rise against my panties.
Chris took the plunge with me.
We were kissing wildly now. My thoughts were racing through the ways I wanted him to take me. I was having a hard time deciding what to do next.
My tongue explored his mouth and licked his face. I shoved my tongue into his ear. He moaned. I pulled the stained cotton shirt over his head and my hand caressed each sensual curve on his torso.
“I’m hungry. I want meat.” I bit my lips — men love when I do that. Chris knew I was not referring to the half-eaten sandwich balled in the corner. I slid down and began undoing his jeans. I kept eye contact. “I want YOUR meat.”
His dick sprung to life and stood against his tight abs. He leaned back and allowed me to devour him. My tongue flicked the tip and played with his girth. I slid down so I could fill up my mouth with his balls, large and firm. I worked on his shaft for a few minutes.
“C’mon, you tease. Suck me.” He pulled my hair and guided me to his throbbing member. Not that I needed any guidance. I took him deep into my throat, pumped, and sucked. I alternated my breathing with pumping his penis into my tonsils. I extended my tongue out to prevent me from gagging — his was the thickest, longest I have ever had. We moaned in unison with each entry.
“You are such a good sucker, Trix. Do you feel that? Suck it. Enjoy it. It’ll be tearing through your pussy soon.” My anticipation grew in leaps and bounds over the time I worked on my “midnight snack”; and so did my standard for desirable dicks.
“I’m cumming.” he warned. He tried to pull out of me but I resisted. I was enjoying giving him pleasure.
“You want me to explode in your mouth? That’s my girl.” He moaned and a torrent of salty juices squirted into my throat. I sucked him enthusiastically, expecting his dick to soften; but my soldier stayed erect even after a major unload. I sucked him clean.
I got up and smacked my lips. “You are so yummy, Chris.”
His eyes were fixed on my breasts, his hand stroking his still angry dick. “Take everything off.”
I shook my dress off my shoulders and the soft fabric pooled around me. I was kneeling before him in my beige thong and bra.
“Are these what you wanted?” I unsnapped the front of my bra and released my double Ds. I traced my cups with my hand and played with my nipples. They drew his eyes, hypnotized. “Too big?”
I chortled, “Shut the fuck up and bring ‘em here.”
I straddled him. I hovered over his groin to bring my breasts to his lips. I felt the tip of his gigantic dick below my panties.
His lips and tongue were playing with my sensitive nipples. His hands were lightly caressing the spot under my breasts, making my skin tingle.
“Don’t be shy. I like it when it hurts a little.” I coaxed and he obliged with vigorous mashing, squeezing, biting. “Yes! Yes!” I threw my head back, enjoying every painful sensation.
I grabbed his chilled beer and took a gulp. I slowly poured the liquid down my breast, letting it drip into Chris’ mouth. He attacked my flesh even harder.
“Mmm, thirsty, baby?” I asked as I tipped the liquid down my torso. He responded enthusiastically to the beer-flavored nipples I offered.
“Every time you drink this, you will see my wet, naked body in your head, taste the flavor of my nipples in your mouth, and feel the need to put your fucking dick in me.” I took a stab at linguistic programming.
He responded by ripping my thong off with his bare hands. He threw it out of the truck.
Chris began pushing me down his dick. He knew I have my birth control shots every three months, and it seems we both wanted to fuck unjacketed.
His size can tear into any woman so he positioned me deliberately. My wet pussy was well lubricated for his entry but was still adjusting to his girth.
We sat for a few seconds, motionless. We were savoring the first time he penetrated me. I could feel my heartbeat in my chest, my pulse throb in my groin.
“It feels good to be inside you.” he breathed.
I took another swig of his beer and poured the rest down his chest, tossed the can, and licked his nipples like a kitten.
The liquid trickled down our privates where we were connected. I felt the beer spreading around me. The smell of ketchup, beer and cum made me think this is all ... nasty ... dirty ... fucking sexy!
I began to ride him. “I can’t believe you waited this long to fuck me.”
His dick maxed me out. I leaned back, resting my arms on his legs behind me. The angle made his shaft tap my G-spot. I began to gallop on him furiously. My thighs were burning.
His jaw dropped at my breasts bouncing vigorously in front of him. “Ride faster, Trix! Make them shake! Fuck!” the boob man got his thrills.
“I am so close.” My voice shook.
Chris quickly pushed me down on the blanket and shifted into a missionary position. He locked my wrists under his hand over my head, in a V position.
The weight of his body and the size of his package made my insides quake. He pumped into me violently, and the entire vehicle shook.
“Oh. My. God.” Every muscle in my body was tense. My arms immobile made me helpless to whatever Chris wanted.
“Feel that?” he growled, as his pace quickened. His hips banged angrily into mine. “I’ll make this worth the fucking wait.”
I screamed as I climaxed. His newfound attitude got me all excited. My release was quickly drowned by another build-up. Chris was still thumping into me like a rabbit.
“I am going to make you cum over and over,” he promised. “I am messing you up for any loser who gets into your pussy after me.”
I squirmed under him, delirious with desire. I wanted to touch him, kiss him. I was trying to break free from his grip. I snapped my teeth at him, my attempt at biting his chest.
“Feisty.” He pinned me down spread eagle. “You look beautiful when you're trying to fight. I have you now; there is no escape. You are mine.”
“You are driving me crazy, Chris.” I cried. My head was bobbing in all directions. I could not touch him with my hands, so I used what I could. I tightened my pelvic muscles and hugged his penis tighter inside me.
“Whoa. What was that?” Chris smiled, his cadence did not slow down. “You have a talented pussy, Trix.”
He watched me cum two more times. His muscle and cardio endurance now puts him on top of the list of all the men I have gone to bed with.
The last climax enervated me — I was a rag doll he could bend around however he wanted. He released my wrists. He flipped me over and took me from behind. I was spent, but very much aroused still. I dropped my head on the blanket and let him have his way.
I thought I knew what it felt to be filled to the brim with dick. I was wrong. I won’t be able to walk after this.
His thrusts were quick and cadenced, I could hear the sticky sound of our bodies chaffing. His hands were on my waist guiding me into him. Soon we got into the rhythm of him pushing into me, and me backing up into him.
I was moaning in delicious pain. “Fuck me!” I screamed long and loud into the blanket.
I felt him unload into my vagina. The pressure and heat soothed my scraped insides.
We somehow found the strength to sit up, our backs against opposite sides of the pick-up, out of breath. We looked at each other, admiring the other’s naked flesh, and giggled.
“Have you ever taken it up the butt?” he wanted to know. Clearly, our friendship is taking a new color.
I grabbed a chilled beer can and rested it on my vulva. I could almost hear it hiss as it cooled me. “Yes, I have. But I am not doing that with you. You are too thick. You’ve already torn me up as it is.”
“Just asking.” He signaled for a beer and I tossed him the one between my legs. He licked the outside of the can playfully before he pulled the top. “Just curious. Your pussy is tight. I can’t complain.”
I looked at Chris, his beautiful profile, and his strong body, and my desire surged again. Unconsciously, I touched my nipples, still sore from all the action. “My pussy is happy to serve.”
“Your boobs did a hell of a job too.” He gulped his beer.
“I knew you were into boobs. But didn’t you have this long-distance thing with a flat chick a couple of years back?”
“That’s why she’s an ex. That, and she had no imagination, no guts. ”
“Vanilla bitch.” I crouched in front of him, my bare ass in the air like a cat ready to pounce. I slithered to him and rested my back on his warm, firm chest. I would purr if I could.
His arms found my waist and drew me closer in a tight hug.
His rough fingers found my opening and explored. My back arched. “I could do this for days,” he said.
I turned my face and let my best friend kiss me deeply. The wild sex with him felt soothing, healing.
I touched the stubble forming under his chin. “The next patrol car will be coming around in a few hours.” Our lips were still brushing when I spoke.
“Let’s fuck until then.” He was hard again.
I turned around and straddled him, pushing his penis into me. I then put my back into slapping him soundly across the cheek.
He was understandably startled. “What the f ...”
I kissed his mouth mid-curse. As I began to rock his shaft into me, I bit my lip seductively and cooed, “Let’s play a sexier version of ‘couple fight’.”
We pleasured ourselves until the sun rose.
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