Follow 'Trevor' upstairs — let him lead you somewhere private

Megan's House, Westwood Heights, at 10:47 PM on Thursday October 31st, 2024

His hand stays on my hip the entire way up the stairs. I can feel the heat of his palm through the thin lace like a brand, and my thighs are slick with how wet I am. Every step makes my soaked thong shift against my swollen clit and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning. This isn't me. I'm Megan Holloway — I throw parties, I don't follow boys upstairs like some desperate freshman.

But his fingers curl tighter as we reach the landing, and I forget my own name.

"In here," he says, pushing open a door at the end of the hall. It's a guest bedroom — queen bed, white sheets, soft lamplight. He closes the door behind us and the noise of the party drops to a distant throb. Just us. Just the sound of my own ragged breathing.

He turns me around and his mouth finds mine before I can form a thought. The kiss is devastating — deep, possessive, his tongue sliding against mine with a confidence that makes my knees buckle. I grab his flannel shirt for balance and he walks me backward until my calves hit the mattress. I fall onto the bed and he follows, his body pressing me into the sheets, one thick thigh pushing between my legs.

"Trevor —" I gasp against his mouth. "I don't — we shouldn't —"

"Shouldn't what?" His hand slides up my thigh, pushing the microskirt up around my waist. His thumb hooks into the waistband of my thong and pulls it aside, and the cool air hits my dripping pussy. He groans when he feels how wet I am. "Fuck, Megan. You're soaked."

"I know," I whimper. "I don't know why —"

His fingers find my slit and drag through the slickness. Two fingers push inside me and I arch off the bed, crying out. He's thick — thicker than I expected — and his fingers curl against my front wall with a precision that makes stars burst behind my eyes.

"You're so tight," he murmurs against my neck, teeth grazing my pulse point. "When's the last time someone fucked you properly?"

"Weeks —" I manage, my hips rolling against his hand. "Condom — you need a condom — I always —"

He pulls his fingers out and I whimper at the loss. I hear his belt buckle, the rustle of denim. When I look down, his cock is free — thick, flushed, already leaking from the tip. Bigger than I expected. Much bigger. My pussy clenches at the sight of it, dripping onto the sheets beneath me.

He positions himself between my spread thighs and the head of his cock nudges against my entrance. Bare. No wrapper. No latex barrier between us. Every rational thought in my head screams condom — I've made every guy since my freshman year wear one, every single time, no exceptions.

But he pushes forward and the raw heat of him splitting me open drives every thought from my skull.

"Oh god —" My back arches as inch after inch sinks into my unprotected pussy. He's so thick it borders on painful, stretching me wider than I've ever been stretched, the friction of bare skin against my inner walls sending electric jolts through my entire body. I can feel every ridge, every vein, the blunt heat of his cockhead pressing deeper than any condom-covered dick has ever reached.

"That's it," he growls, bottoming out inside me. His hips press flush against mine and I feel his balls resting against my ass, heavy and full. "Take all of it."

I should tell him to stop. I should demand he pull out. Instead I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him deeper, my pussy clenching around his bare shaft like it was made to grip him. He starts to thrust — slow, deep strokes that drag his cock along every nerve ending I have — and I can feel myself opening for him, my body surrendering completely to something I don't understand.

"You feel incredible," he breathes, his pace quickening. "So wet. So fucking tight around my cock."

"Don't stop," I hear myself beg. "Please don't stop —"

His amber eyes lock onto mine as he drives into me harder, faster, and something about those eyes — those strange, elongated pupils — should terrify me. Instead it makes my pussy flood with fresh wetness, my walls gripping him tighter, my body begging him to never pull out.