Page 69 of The Enforcer

27Zoe

Bad sex is a choice.

I was nineteen when I realized that, and it changed my life. I was dating this guy named Aaron, who had a very detailed list of the things he liked in bed — pegging, doggy, reverse cowgirl, never missionary. Fucking him was a goddamn workout, so at least he saved me money on a gym membership. He never failed to come his brains out, but I was not so lucky.

I’d had okay sex with everyone I’d fucked before Aaron, and I couldn’t understand what was happening with him. It was only after he dumped me three months into our relationship and his frat brother, Joachim, helped me get over him that I realized my mistake. Aaron had a very detailed list of the things he wanted in bed, but he’d never asked me what I wanted, and I was too naïve to know that I could give him my sexual rider in the same way he’d given me his.

The lesson I learned during the Thanksgiving break I spent in Joachim’s bed was that telling the people you fucked what you like wasn’t just a good idea, it was necessary, and it could be sexy as fuck. I appreciate Joachim’s guidance on this issue. I have never fucked anyone with a filthier mouth, and I know his wives are happy as hell. Alfonso isn’t nearly as expressive, but he gives good talk when it counts.

“Give it to me,” he groans. “Put all your weight on me. Fuck, I need to feel it.”

He says some other stuff too, but it’s all in Italian. I can guess at the translations by the way his big, rough hands take hold of my hips, and his lap lifts to meet mine. By the time our bodies are slapping loudly together, words don’t matter anyway, I think. I’m wrong.

“Yes, fuck her. Fuck her. My God.”

We both freeze at those words.

Without the noise we were making, the garden is quiet enough that we can hear the sound of skin rubbing against skin.

When we turn around, we see the man from the pool, standing out in the path, watching us, his pants around his knees and his dick in his hands.

Now, I have done some wild shit, but something about this feels like a bit much, even for me. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s not trying to hide at all. Or the fact that he found us. Went looking for us? Or the fact that I’m into it — still clenching my pussy around Alfonso’s dick into it. And apparently, I’m not alone.

Alfonso’s hips are shifting up to get deeper inside me. “Please,” he groans after a while of me crouching above him.

I turn back and grip his shoulders harder to keep myself steady. “Are you…are you sure?” I ask giddily.

He unbuttons his shirt and nudges my hand inside. And then he nods and begins to move his hips again. “Make it hurt.”

Like I said, he’s not a man of many words, but he damn sure knows how to pick the good ones.

I dig my fingernails into his shoulders as I start to fuck him again.

I let him move me when he needs to, rocking me back and forth and side to side and in a circle because we both want him to hit every inch of me.

I scratch a new piece of skin whenever he hits a spot I particularly like.

We keep our eyes on one another while we begin to fuck loudly. Sometimes the sounds of our anonymous friend getting off watching us cut through the noises we’re making, but mostly it’s just Alfonso and me fucking like fat, happy rabbits.

It would have been nice to come together; that was a thing Tyrone, Kevin, and I had mastered, which was no small feat. But this moment is not the last two years I spent with my exes, and that’s okay.

Our friend comes first. By the time he’s close, his Australian accent is nearly incomprehensible, but somehow, I guess that it’s nothing but obscenities as he beats the ever-loving shit out of his dick. He moans so loudly I think he’s dying, but that’s his business.

Alfonso and I are close. We’re groaning into one another’s mouths. I’m sucking his tongue. And he’s practically slamming my hips into his.

I wrap my right arm around his neck so I can get the angle right, and then I snake my fingers between our bodies to play with my clit. It only takes a few hard brushes before I’m coming so hard that the sound of our bodies is wetter than before, our sweat and my orgasm mixing together.

But I don’t want to come alone if I don’t have to. So, once the first wave of my orgasm rips through me, I release Alfonso’s tongue and then sink my teeth into his bottom lip.

He cries out and then pumps up desperately, his ass lifting from the bench and then freezing as he jerks inside of me.

I don’t let his lip go until his body relaxes, and then I soothe it with gentle swipes of my tongue.

We’re not in a rush to leave one another.

Alfonso holds me close, petting my hips and placing soft kisses on my lips.

Eventually, we hear the sound of the man zipping up his pants and walking slowly, casually away.

“Did you like that?” he asks.

“Don’t ask foolish questions,” I tell him. “Your lap is full of the answer.”

I like the way his laughter feels against my mouth.

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