Page 6 of Single Dad Panther's Best Friend Romance

Holy God up above, the sensations that hit me as my orgasm finally rolled over me I just can’t define. My body jumps on the bed like I’m being electrocuted and Preston has to hold me steady even while he keeps his mouth on me. Thank God I thought to grab the pillow because I scream like a banshee now.

And the pleasure is so damned intense, I feel like I’m going to black out!

And then, the pillow is gone and Preston’s mouth is on mine, which means his cock is right where I want it to be.

Chapter Four

Elizabeth

I guess I’m a pretty fucking stupid person because it’s just as his cock slides into my pussy that I stop to think about what I’ve done.

That’s a bad way to put it.

I do think about what I’ve done but I don’t stop. I most definitely do not stop.

My orgasm rages dramatically, and I wrap my legs around him. I force myself to stop screaming and throw the pillow to the side so I can take hold of Preston’s head, pull him down to me, and kiss him. The point is that I don’t stop to think. Ikeep doingit to keep from thinking.

But I think.

I think about how I’ve very likely ruined a friendship. Or, at the least, I’ve added a level of awkwardness to the friendship that isn’t ever going to go away. There’s no going back. That’s what Preston said, and he’s right.But the kiss is perfect and beautiful, and it makes me think that the awkward and hollow thing is the friendship without the romance.

But it’s easy to think that when I’ve ruined it and there’s no choice but to accept whatever there is now, right?

And then, I realize that I taste myself. I taste my pussy on Preston’s lips and tongue because of where his lips and tongue have just been.

All I can say is this: When I taste myself, all thoughts about the consequences of this situation disappear. If this is stupid, so be it. If this is something I’m absolutely going to regret, so be it. Nothing matters right now except the moment.

The perfect, purely sexual moment.

No. Not true. It’s not purely sexual.

There’s a whole lot more to it. There’s a ton of emotion. I don’t know that I ever really considered before the difference betweenmaking loveandfucking. I guess I always thought of it as a kind of bullshit sort of thing, as a silly distinction made by women with an overactive sense of melodramatic idiocy.

Well, I owe all women with an overactive sense of melodramatic idiocy a big apology.

What’s happening with Preston right now goes well beyond anything I could describe just asfucking. I mean, frat boys fuck sorority sisters at parties just for the orgasms, right? This is so much more than that sort of thing.

I don’t want to belabor the point but I think I can illustrate it for you. I watched an old movie once. I was sitting for Preston, and Joel was asleep. It was a late-night movie on cable. I guess in the late eighties and early nineties, there was a pretty big market in soft porn romance movies. I don’t know. Preston and I still have cable. Bundled with internet so I guess I watch more late-night crap than most people. Anyway, I would have just flipped to the next channel but the scene was interesting.

There is a woman leaning against the wall of a bar watching the patrons. She’s holding a drink and a guy walks up to her and says, “You came to this bar to get fucked.” Well, that’s aninteresting thing, right? It’s back before saying something so overt got you views on a video tube.

The camera makes it clear that the woman is wearing a wedding ring. The guy points out that he can tell she’s here to get fucked. She doesn’t protest that she’s married. She just looks down toward her hand.

And here’s the crazy thing he says that sticks with me. The guy says, “Yeah, you’re married and you make love to your husband.”

Uh, I’m not going to get the exact words right but you’ll get the point here. “You’re married and when your husband makes you cum, you’re cumming minivans and picket fences. You’re cumming summer vacation with the kids. You’re cumming twenty-fifth anniversaries and PTA meetings.”

Then, the guy says, “But you’re not here for that. You’re here to get fucked, and you’re here because you want a man to reach inside of you and rip an orgasm out of you. You want to cum because a man tells you to, because a man demands it of you.” I gotta admit that would probably get me in the sack.

If I manage to keep from laughing uproariously.

“You don’t want to cum houses and kids and paper bag lunches tonight. You want to cum with your pussy because a man has his cock inside of it. That’s what you want tonight.”

Okay, it’s a hokey, soft porn moment. I get that. But at one or two in the morning, it’s pretty impactful, you know.

But I think about it right now because I’m doing both. Preston has fucked me so thoroughly that he’s definitely reached inside of me and ripped the damned orgasm out of me with no real choice on my part but to have it. I can’t deny that at all. I have no choice but to cum and to cum desperately hard.

But I’m also cumming houses and kids and paper bag lunches and picket fences and minivans and twenty-fifthanniversary parties and PTA meetings and all of that, too.I’m cumming picnics and backyard barbecues.

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