Life with Amber.

You find that you like having Amber living with you even more than you expected. You had thought of a great many advantages to her moving in, but her presence also brings a lot of little surprises, and most of them are good ones. (There’s always some friction when people have to figure out how to live together, but you’re both committed to working through it. You’re especially committed to the kissing-and-making-up part of working through it.)

For instance, you dash home one day between meetings to find Amber doing the laundry, having just started a load in the washing machine. You stick your head in for a quick kiss and find that she has a better idea. “I was hoping you’d come home,” she says. She bends forward over the washer and flips up her skirt, flashing you with her naked pussy. “Fuck me.”

“Umm, I have to be back out of here in ten minutes—”

“I’m so horny, it may only take five,” Amber says, “and I’ve always wanted to have sex on a running washing machine. I made sure to be doing whites, so the water is nice and hot. Here, let me—” and she lifts up and pulls her top off; she now has nothing on but a skirt, which she flips up again as she lies back down on the washer. “Come on, baby, fuck your horny little college girl. I just had a nice hot shower and spent a nice long time with the handheld shower head, and I’m all hot and wet and horny for you and everything.”

You can smell Amber’s sweet pussy in the heat of the laundry room, and suddenly you can’t think of anything else. You step behind her, take aim with your pussy rocket, grab her hips firmly, and open fire. You can feel the vibrations through your whole body; judging from the way she’s rubbing her clit against the front edge of the washer (which is doing some pleasant things to your cock as well), she’s really feeling them. “Ohh, FUCK,” she gasps. “Fuck me harder . . . harder . . . rock my world, baby . . . you rock my world . . . rock ’n’ roll . . . COCK ’n’ roll . . . big fucking cock, baby . . . never get tired of your big fucking cock in my tight fucking pussy . . . ohh, lover, beautiful cock . . . love that big fucking pussy rocket . . . getting my clit buzzed . . . fuck me harder . . .”

You jackhammer her so hard a corner of your brain is afraid she’ll end up with bruises on her thighs, but she clearly doesn’t care—she’s in a mood for hard, harder, and hardest, and you’re in a mood to give it to her. You stand and deliver with all your might, and before long, you cry out together, “I’m cumming!” Amber gasps, “Yeah, lover . . . give it to me . . . give me your cum . . . fire off that big fucking pussy rocket . . . MINE!” You cum together with a banshee howl and a guttural roar, and your orgasms meet with the force of a cataclysm. You launch rocket after rocket of cum deep into her welcoming heat, each one seemingly squeezed out by her spasming cunt. Then you slump forward on top of Amber, propping yourself up on your arms so you don’t squash her; your knees are suddenly so shaky, you’re not sure they’d hold you up. You turn to look at your watch and say, “I have time, alright . . . if I can even walk out of here.”

“Oh, fuck, lover, that was good,” Amber breathes. Then she squeals and starts to squirm. You lift yourself up, pivoting on one elbow, as she gets off the washing mashine. “Just . . . suddenly . . . too much,” she pants. You push off the machine yourself and decide that your legs will remember how to work after all. Amber kisses you and says, “Go to your meeting, baby . . . with my love.”

Of course, sex with Amber isn’t all hard and fast. She has a real taste for that, and she loves the way you give it to her, so that’s often what she wants, especially in your first days and weeks together; but there’s plenty of slow and sensuous lovemaking, too. One Saturday, something distracts you in the middle of getting dressed and you end up sitting, naked, cross-legged on the bedroom floor. Amber sees you there from behind and quickly strips herself, then walks up, straddles your lap, and sits down. She wraps her legs around your hips with her calves crossed and her heels against your ass, then puts her hands on your shoulders and kisses you as she strokes your rapidly-growing prick with her twat. You hold her in your arms, enjoying the intimacy; then she raises herself up, grabs your cock to guide you, and takes you in to her welcoming depths.

You stay in that position for a few minutes, each caressing the other’s back and sides and enjoying the tongue play, before you begin to move. It takes a few minutes and a fair bit of laughter to figure out what works, but soon the two of you find a rocking motion that works, and establish a rhythm. You move slowly at first, with long, langorous kisses; Amber rubs her tits on your chest, and you stroke her hair with one hand. Then you look down and decide you can get your hand in to reach her clit. She sees you reaching and breathes, “Ohh, yeah, lover, stroke my clit. Play with my little bud. . . . I love your hands, baby . . .”

Amber hums and mewls as you tease and caress her little joystick, and begins humping you faster. You pick up your pace to match her, and your pleasure grows more intense. She kisses you hard, claiming your mouth with her tongue, and shimmies her shoulders to rub her boobs against you. You rock faster and rub her clit harder, and her kisses grow hungrier and hungrier and more and more demanding.

Finally, her hips buck against you and you feel her cunt spasming rapidly around your cock; her embrace tightens fiercely, and as she kisses you, she sucks in. Her orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave, with yours following in its wake. You wouldn’t say you cum especially hard, but you keep cumming and cumming and cumming, and her hotbox keeps milking you for all you’re worth. You both keep rocking through your climaxes; you don’t still your movements until the ecstasy fades. You cuddle on the floor until you realize that your ass and your feet are getting numb. You rock sideways, carrying Amber and pitching both of you over on your side; you use your elbow and your knee to keep from landing too hard on her leg, and arch yourself so she can get it out from under you. You lie there holding each other for some time, kissing and gazing into each other’s eyes; Amber has a look of wonder on her face. Finally, she heaves a deep sigh and gets up. “Thank you,” she says softly.

“No, thank you,” you reply. “That was all you.”

“I mean—thank you for being mine. Thank you for loving me.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”