Prudence, Prude no longer

The second kiss came from above.

Prudence had to fold a long way to reach his mouth. The glossy red jacket came with her, filling the space between them until there was nowhere to look that was not her, and Randy’s hand, going for her waist by instinct, found the flare of her hip instead and had to travel up. The mistake drew a pleased little sound out of her, and she used it, leaning him back into the door while her mouth stayed on his.

She did not break away to study him. The look happened inside the kiss: a tilt of her head, the blonde ponytail sliding over one shoulder, the deep neckline shifting against his chest as she breathed. One hand wandered her own side as if she were still catching up with the body attached to the memories. The other found the back of his head and kept him lifted to her.

“Dear me,” she murmured against his mouth, amusement warming the same voice that had been scolding him on the step only minutes before. “Look at you down there.”

There was no cruelty in it now, only fascination, and she seemed increasingly delighted by what the difference in height allowed her to do. She leaned into him until warmth and perfume and the sleek pressure of the red jacket crowded out everything else, her hair brushing his cheek as he tipped his chin higher to meet her. The adjustment made her smile, and instead of letting him recover she followed it with another kiss, deeper this time, enjoying the small surrender she had coaxed out of him.

“I used to look down on you,” she said, the words barely leaving the space between them before a quiet laugh interrupted them. “I remember every word, too. Standing out there like some miserable old crow, telling you how to live.”

“You were enjoying it.”

“Oh, terribly.” She sounded almost fond of the admission. “I always did. Give me some petty grievance and I could keep it alive for weeks.” Her fingers moved into his hair as she spoke, keeping him close while the old severity in her voice softened into something richer and more amused. “I was a spiteful creature, Randy. Perhaps I still am.”

“Perhaps?”

That earned him a smile. “The difference is that she seems so far away now.” Prudence glanced toward the front door as though she might still see her former self standing rigidly on the other side of it, cardigan crooked, mouth pinched around somebody else’s business. When she looked back at him, her expression had turned wickedly pleased. “That sour old thing on the step would be screaming herself hoarse if she could see me now.”

Then she kissed him again, and whatever remained of the old Prudence seemed increasingly unwilling to interfere.

Randy’s hands found her waist at last, and she came willingly into them, closing what little space remained between their bodies. Somewhere farther down the hall, the bedroom door creaked. Prudence heard i, he felt the brief hesitation in her, but instead of turning to investigate, she caught his jaw between her fingers and brought his attention back to her.

When she finally drew away, she didn’t go far. She remained bent over him, close enough that her breath still warmed his mouth, studying his face with an intensity that would once have meant she was searching for something to criticize. Her thumb moved slowly along his jaw.

“Are you enjoying this?”

The question carried enough of her old authority to make him smile.

Prudence noticed. “Don’t look so pleased with yourself.” The reprimand lost some of its force when she glanced at his mouth again. “I’m serious.”

“You don’t seem very unhappy.”

“That is precisely the problem.” A little colour had risen into her cheeks and throat, and for once she made no attempt to hide it. “I am enjoying myself considerably more than I ought to be.”

“According to who?”

She gave him a look that belonged entirely to the woman who had arrived on his doorstep. “According to me, obviously.”

Randy laughed, and the severity lasted perhaps another second before her mouth twitched.

“That dreadful old woman would be appalled,” she murmured. “All those years cultivating grievances, and apparently this is all it took to distract me.”

“This?”

Prudence’s eyes narrowed with amusement. She leaned nearer until the tip of her nose almost brushed his. “You.”

Her ponytail slipped over her shoulder as she lowered herself the last inch, but she stopped before kissing him.

“So answer the question, Randy.” Her voice had gone quieter now, the teasing unable to hide the uncertainty beneath it. “Am I the only one enjoying this?”

She waited there, close enough that he could feel the question against his lips.

“No, duh.”

Randy reached up and got both hands on her tits. They filled his palms, huge and soft in the open red jacket, and Prudence’s answer was immediate: a rich moan against the top of his head and a laugh when she straightened, forcing him to follow her upward until his face was under her cleavage and his head was tipped all the way back.

“Well then.” She caught his wrist, eyes bright with an excitement that still looked faintly ridiculous on a face he associated with complaints about rubbish bins and untrimmed hedges. “Why don’t you and I do something fun?”

She led him into the living room without waiting for an answer, walking him there with his face still in the jacket.

The confidence lasted until she bent over the back of the couch and shoved the red trousers down those thick thighs. Bare to him, wet enough that he could see it, she presented herself as if the height would simply cooperate. It did not. Folded over the cushions or not, Prudence was still too high. Randy saw that before he made a fool of himself. Lining up from the floor would have put him against the backs of her legs, not inside her.

She looked back at him. “If you laugh at me, I shall reconsider this entire arrangement.”

“You won’t.”

“No,” she admitted. “Probably not. Get up here.”

That finally did make him laugh, and the cushions dipped as he climbed up behind her. Up there the height finally matched. Prudence reached between her legs, found him, and rubbed the head of his cock through her slit until she had him notched against her.

“Hard,” she said, and she was still saying it when he grabbed her hips and pushed. “Strong. I want you in me, Randy—”

The head of his cock spread her and sank in, tight and dripping. He kept going, feeding her more as she stretched around him, her breath breaking, her fingers staying between her legs to feel him slide deeper until he slammed the rest of the way home and buried every inch in her, hips flush to her ass.

“I want that baby batter of yours in my womb. I want you to make me a mother again,” Prudence said, and the last of it broke into a moan as he bottomed out.

The couch dipped under his feet. Folded under him like that she was tight and slippery around his cock, a hot clench that gripped him all the way down, firm in the hips he was holding, soft where those heavy tits were mashed to the cushions. It was not enough. There was too much of her. Too much hip, too much ass, too much towering body folded over the back of the couch, and if he wanted to move her he could not be gentle about it.

Randy took a firmer grip and started to fuck her in earnest.

Each thrust had to be thrown into her. The size of her swallowed the smaller ones; they vanished against that heavy ass and those long thighs and did nothing. So he drove in hard, hips snapping, the cushions shifting under him as he used the height he had climbed for, burying himself to the root and dragging back only to slam home again. Prudence took it with a deep moan, low and rich, the sound dragged out of her every time he bottomed out.

“Yes,” she managed, voice gone thick. “Like that. Don’t you dare ease off.”

He didn’t. He fucked her vigorously enough that the couch inched forward, her ponytail swinging, that wine-red jacket creaking as her breasts mashed into the cushions. Another deep moan spilled out of her, then another, sexier for how little she tried to pretty them. The old Prudence would have been appalled. This one pushed back onto him, greedy, huge, and moaning from the chest every time his cock punched into that tight wet heat.

Her eyes had closed. All that relentless scrutiny had given way to sensation. Randy leaned over her as far as her size would allow, still pounding, and she reached back for him, no longer interested in the hallway, the bedroom door, the neighbours, or anything beyond the small space the two of them had made around the couch.

For once in her life, Prudence had stopped looking for something to complain about. She was too busy moaning.