Page 57 of Surviving Lies

“I want you to ride me, Becca. I want you to slide that pussy onto my dick and ride me. Can you do that?” he said with his porn star voice. A condom had appeared out of nowhere, and he placed it in my hand. “Put this on me.”

I tore the square packet open and positioned it atop his shaft. Rolling it down the length of him, I confirmed what I’d thought.

His dick was big.

I didn’t think it would fit in me this way, with me on top. Once the condom was in place, I rose to my knees, and he saw my hesitation as I lined him up with my opening.

And fuck if that didn’t scare the shit out of me.

“Hey, are you OK with this, Becca?” he asked.

I stopped and looked at him, hoping my actual fear wasn’t all over my face.

“Of course,” I said, but I knew I wasn’t very convincing. He grabbed my hands and stopped me from putting him inside myself.

“What’s wrong, Becca?” he asked.

My shoulders deflated in defeat, and I was mad at myself for ruining the mood.

“I’m such a buzzkill, I’m sorry, but I’m really afraid that you won’t fit. I’m so scared that this is going to hurt.”

His face softened, and his hand came to my cheek.

“Hey, I’m glad you said something. We can try it this way, slow. But if it doesn’t work, we’ll do it another way, OK?” he whispered, and I nodded.

Reaching down, he guided his massive length into me. Grabbing my hips, he literally held me above him, my entire weight in his hands.

“I’ve got you. I’ll let you down slowly, and you tell me how it feels. You tell me when to let you down more, OK?”

He slid me onto his shaft with care, his eyes on mine the entire time.

The stretch as he entered me caused a burn beyond anything I’d ever felt, bringing tears to my eyes, and he immediately stopped and pulled out.

“Becca,” he said low, “are you a virgin?”

My eyes went wide. “No!” I yelped.

His head fell back against the couch as his grip on me got tighter. “You’re so fucking tight, Bec. So fucking tight. I don’t want to hurt you, but you feel so fucking good.”

“I can take you this way.” I motioned with my fingers to show his width, making that circle to show him. “But I’m just not sure about this way.” I held my hands apart like a fisherman would to show their latest catch.

Gage laughed out loud.

“Just keep going slow,” I told him. “I’ll tell you if I can’t do anymore.”

He nodded.

“I’m trying, but it’s a slow torture,” he confessed with hooded eyes as he returned his cock to my entrance, this time not as slow. “Breathe and relax – you’re tense. That will make this hurt when it doesn’t have to.” He looked at me again. “Do you want to flip over? Try that way first?”

I didn’t want to give up on the challenge I faced. For some reason, I felt like I would disappoint him if we went missionary. Gage seemed like more than missionary, like he needed more than that.

I shook my head.

“How about you support more of your weight on my shoulders?” he suggested.

This was turning into a project instead of beingsexysex.

I moved my hands up and held on, taking the weight off of him. Suddenly, a few fingers found my clit, rubbing and massaging. My head hit his shoulder with the intensity of the sensation that hit me. Gage obviously approved of the sounds coming from my mouth.

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