Claiming His Virgin In the Pool Read online

  “Here,” I said, holding them out. “You want to try this?”

  The brunette picked them up, eyeing the cotton skeptically.

  “It’s about five sizes too big,” she murmured. But then her smile flashed. “If this is the best we can do, then it’s the best we can do,” she said. “Come on, I’ll get dressed and we can leave in a jiff.”

  And when the brunette reappeared, I didn’t know what to think. Because the sweats were enormous for sure, but nothing could hide her assets. Those big breasts pressed against the college logo, her hips wide in the soft grey cotton. Honestly, the girl didn’t look half bad. Really cute, actually, with her hair up in a ponytail, a bright smile on that beautiful face.

  Was she really going to stroll around NYC wearing gray sweats? Was the female open to bucking the trend, prizing comfort over fashion? But the answer was clear.

  “Come on silly,” she tossed over one shoulder, grabbing her purse. “Come on, last one to the elevator is a rotten egg.”

  And I laughed then, a weight lifting from my shoulders. Because this girl had the right priorities. She didn’t need stilettos and make-up. She didn’t even need a pair of designer jeans, happy with my sweats. So I laughed for real then. It’d been a long time. There are a lot of grimaces, or even polite half-smiles. But laughing like we were kids? Only Joanie could do that.

  Our tour of the city was magnificent. We just did the normal stuff. Strolling in the park, watching the electric boats sail in the fountain. Marveling at all the locations recognizable from multiple episodes of Law and Order. Stopping by Times Square, where Joanie squealed upon seeing the M&M store.

  “Come on!” she gestured again. “I love Nerds and they’ve got giant-sized boxes.”

  My eyes rolled. Really? Because giant was to put it mildly. These things were about two feet tall and one foot wide, filled with pink and orange sweet and crackly candy.

  I was about to put my foot down. Absolutely not. There’s indulgence, and then there’s over the top. What the hell were we going to do with ten pounds of Nerds?

  But Joanie threw one look my way, and I couldn’t resist. My wallet was out, the girl bouncing up and down with excitement.

  “Thank you Nick,” she burbled, eyes bright. “Thank you, you won’t regret this.”

  I groaned, watching that curvy figure exit the M&M store, a huge box of candy clutched in her arms. But it was refreshing to be honest. I felt like we were at the County Fair, and I’d just won my girl a huge teddy bear by slamming the hammer down on the scale. Worth every cent.

  So we strolled through Times Square, bumping into strangers, that beautiful face lit with enjoyment, eyes taking in everything.

  “Thanks for taking me around today,” she breathed, staring at the Jumbotrons advertising everything from Japanese alarm clocks to Italian merino wool sweaters. “I know I was supposed to be on a flight to Atlanta, but you let me catch my breath.”

  I raised my brows.

  “Any time sweetheart. You feel tired, just pipe up. There’s plenty of room for relaxation, we’re not taskmasters cracking the whip.”

  That wasn’t exactly true. We are demanding motherfuckers because there was only one succulent female. Fighting for her time and body was paramount, the girl on call 24/7.

  But Joanie didn’t have to know. She was too happy right now, and I didn’t want to burst her bubble. Besides we’d meandered all the way to the Empire State in Midtown, the brunette craning her head back to look skywards.

  “Oh wow,” she breathed, hugging the box of Nerds to her chest. “Just like the movies.”

  And again, I was struck by just how different this girl is from the rest. Here we were, at a tourist trap, Joanie dressed in gray sweats carrying a giant box of candy. Any other woman would have insisted that I buy her a designer wardrobe first, and then wobbled around town in stilettos, complaining about the heat, crowds and pollution. Not Joanie. Not my girl.

  But even more amazing was the brunette’s sense of wonder. That’s something I haven’t seen in a long time. A lot of folks in my line of business are jaded as fuck, they feel like they’ve seen everything. Maybe it’s because I’m from New York. Maybe it’s because they’re just jaded people period. But Joanie’s sense of awe was eye-opening, making my heart pump with renewed life, energy flowing into my veins.

  “The Empire State!” she exclaimed again, face lifted to the spire. “Amazing! Come on, let’s get a bite.”

  I laughed then, pulled along in her tow. Because in the bottom floor of the Empire State Building is a microbrewery slash gastropub, and evidently my girl was hungry.

  As the doors closed behind us, I grunted.

  “Dark in here,” was my comment.

  Joanie flashed a smile over her shoulder.

  “Not that dark,” she pointed out. “It’s seven p.m. now.”

  I nodded. Evidently we’d been traipsing around the city for hours, but they’d gone by quick. I haven’t had such a good time since I was ten years old and practicing skateboard moves at the local park.

  My girl smiled again, pulling me deeper into the crowd.

  “Come on silly,” she laughed again. “It’ll be fun.”

  And with that, we found ourselves spots at the bar. Or more accurately, there was only one seat at the very edge in back. So I let the brunette take it, my bulk looming behind that curvy form.

  “Thank you,” she said, seating herself on the stool. “You’re very chivalrous,” she teased.

  What the hell. Chivalrous is the last word I’d use to describe Nick North. But hey, everything was new today, even my gentlemanly manners.

  “No prob,” I grunted, surveying the crowd. It was pretty packed already, people here for happy hour, talking loud and gesturing as three different football games played from three different flatscreens. Typical sports bar, fake wood paneling, harried servers scurrying about with heaping trays of fries and giant steins of beer.

  And at that moment, the bartender appeared.

  “Get you folks something?” he asked, face sweaty. I felt for the dude. Bartending during happy hour must be fucking stressful. Glad I didn’t have the job, since it probably only made minimum wage plus a couple tips.

  “IPA,” was my grunt. “Sam Adams.”

  The bartender nodded silently. “You?”

  Joanie bit her lip for a moment.

  “Just an iced tea please.”

  And the man nodded, gone in an instant.

  I turned to look at the brunette, brow raised.

  “Sweetheart, what’s with the iced tea?” I drawled. “You dry for some reason? What’s going on?”

  Joanie blushed, biting her lip again.

  “No, I’m not dry. Well, I am, but not by choice. Because I’m not twenty-one yet,” she confessed. “So I can’t drink legally.”

  Aw shit. I’d forgotten. We’re playing with an innocent teen, one who hasn’t even lived two decades yet. Fuck fuck fuck. By contrast, I was a forty-five year old hardened male, who’s been drinking since age fifteen. My cock twitched, entranced by her naiveté.

  “Sweetheart, I’m sure they wouldn’t card you here. Trust me, they’re too busy,” I said, looking around.

  “Maybe not,” the brunette acknowledged. “But I’d be so embarrassed if they did. Because when was the last time you were carded?” she asked. “Probably not in forever right?”

  Fuck, probably not in three decades. Because I’ve always looked older than my real age, huge and hulking by sixteen. So yeah, carding was a thing of the distant past.

  “They’ll serve me, I’m sure,” she said, smiling again. “But I just don’t want to risk it because getting carded would be too humiliating.”

  But I didn’t give a fuck if we broke the law. Hell, she could take sips of my beer if she wanted. And at that moment, the bartender reappeared, two long frosty glasses of amber liquid. The iced tea and IPA didn’t look so different, come to think of it.

  “Cheers sweetheart,” I growled, clinki
ng glasses with her. “Bottoms up.”

  Joanie smiled back at me.

  “Cheers Mr. North. Thank you for making sure I had an amazing day,” she mewled sweetly.

  A lump formed in my throat even as I sipped at the beer. Because it’d been an amazing day for both of us. It’d been so long since I forgot my cares and just let go, enjoying what the city had to offer.

  But a bar is a bar, and lo and behold, the fucker on the stool next to Joanie turned then, eyeing that beautiful body.

  “Hey girl,” he rasped. “How goes?”

  Unbelievable. Did this douche not see me? Did he not see the massive male behind her, ready to beat his brain into a pulp?

  But the slimy jerk just wouldn’t stop, ignoring me though I was mere inches away. The city’s got so many guys like this one. Sleazy weasels, hair overly gelled with big biceps but chicken legs underneath. What a loser.

  But my girl is kind and she smiled back.

  “Hi, I’m Joanie. This is Nick,” she said, gesturing to me. My glower only got more ominous, but the weasel still wouldn’t make eye contact.

  “Hey, I’m Howard,” he said. “You new to town?”

  Joanie laughed, her perfect profile tipping back a bit.

  “I am,” she confessed. “How can you tell?”

  And this Howard dude went for it then. Leaning forward conspiratorially, he said, “The stars in your eyes chickadee. They shine like the sun.”

  I shook my head. This was so fucking stupid. His line was lame beyond belief, and I was tempted to rip off his head, right here, right now. But Joanie went along with it, and she laughed lightly again.

  “I see,” she said. “Well, nice talking to you Howard.”

  But the weasel just wouldn’t let go. He swiveled on his bar stool, eyes intent on that curvy form and started to talk on and on about sights to see in the City, where the get the best deals, where to get the best meals, spewing words like vomit.

  And lo and behold, Howard actually was a tour guide.

  “I run the Red Bus Company,” he proclaimed proudly, puffing up like a penguin. “You see those double decker red buses around town with sightseers sitting on the top level? That’s me. I give those tours, and sweetheart, I’d love to be your guide,” he said lowering his voice and winking lasciviously.

  This was so comical as to be ridiculous now. Because a real threat was one thing. But a penguin slash weasel slash professional tour guide? Please motherfucker. You have no idea how the big boys play.

  And with that, I did it. I’m a dirty asshole. Real nasty, with my mind in the gutter 24/7. So as Howard prattled on and on, his voice a monologue, I decided to mark my female. Oh yeah, right there in the crowded, darkened bar, I decided to brand this beautiful girl with my jizz.

  My hands rested lightly on her hips, scooching the female backwards on the stool a bit. The brunette turned to look at me inquisitively, but moved back a bit so that that big butt hung off the edge of the stool. Perfect.

  And with Harold’s voice buzzing like a chainsaw, slowly I placed two hands on her waist, grabbing the elastic of her sweatpants and inching them over her hips.

  Joanie’s eyes flew back to me, startled.

  “Wha-?” she said before fixing her gaze on Harold again. “I’m sorry, you were saying?”

  The man didn’t even notice. He was talking about his mom now, and how she brought him up to be discerning and perceptive. Yeah, right. Try again, motherfucker, because the girl before you is about to get fucked, and you don’t even know it.

  Because yeah, I was gonna do Joanie right here, right now, in public. It was dark in the bar, most people just shadowy shapes. It was crowded too, but we were way off to one side, the girl perched on the very last stool. So there was no one behind me. No one to see what I was about to do.

  And with slow, careful movements, I pulled the waistband of the sweats down so that her big ass was bared, the elastic stretched tight as it caught around her thighs. The front looked okay for sure, these were Men’s Size XXL so there was plenty of material. But the sight in back was fucking delicious.

  The peach was out.

  That beautiful butt, twin cheeks like moons, beckoning to me.

  And with another slow movement, I pulled her back even more on the stool before plucking that g-string out of her ass and moving it to the right.

  Oh shit.

  Fuck me.

  Because this was perfect.

  Joanie’s bottom hung over the edge of the stool, creamy and inviting. Again, from the front, she looked normal, chatting away with this Howard dude. But from the back, she was one hundred percent nude and full.

  That brown star beckoned, winking between her cheeks.

  Would she be able to?

  Would she be able to take cock up her butt in a crowded bar? While making conversation with a stranger?

  The brunette shot a panicked look at me over her shoulder before smiling again at the intruder.

  “Yes, Howard,” she murmured unsteadily. “Yes, I hear you.”

  I groaned, dick so stiff. Because with those words, she’d wiggled that ass a bit, sliding backwards so that her cheeks parted a smidge. Aw fuck yeah. That brown hole was on display now, baiting, winking and blinking flirtatiously.

  But what the fuck, we didn’t have any lube. So I used the only thing on hand. Reaching beneath her bottom, I stroked what I could of her pussy, the soft folds moist and wet. And as if on cue, the girl gushed into my palm, flooding me precious nectar.

  “Perfect,” I rumbled so that only she could hear. “You’re perfect, sweetheart.”

  And with that, the moisture was rubbed into her hole, Joanie struggling to hold still as I stroked her anus.

  “Calm, calm,” came my voice, sotto voce. “Calm.”

  Because shit, I had my cock out now, and if the girl saw this, she’d run screaming. Sure, I was big. I’ve always been big. But there’s big and there’s monstrous, and right now I was monstrous. Veins ran along the top and bottom of my shaft, pulsing with need. My glans gleamed purple, the shaft already coated with hot streaks of pre-cum.

  “Here goes baby,” I rumbled into her ear, breath blowing on that sweet cheek. “Here goes, right here, right now.”

  Because my head was pressing against that tight anus. Oh yeah, this was going down, anal sex in a crowded bar. Gripping her hips, I shifted that bottom a little, getting a better angle.

  And then it happened. Her rectum popped open and my shaft slid in a little. Fuck fuck fuck! Joanie was so tight, and the girl jolted a bit as my cock entered her ass.

  “I’m sorry Harold?” she gasped a little, leaning forwards slightly to improve my angle. “What did you say again?”

  Aw shit, my dick slid in a couple more inches then, hot and tight into that dry, arid rectum. Maintaining a neutral look on my face, I shot a quick glance at Harold.

  Because the poor loser was practically drooling, he was so excited to have a beautiful girl listening to his conversation. Not just listening, but replying too. Too bad he didn’t realize that she was getting buttfucked at the moment, my cock already halfway up her bottom.

  But he kept blabbering on and on about this and that, his two cats if I wasn’t mistaken. I have no idea. I was there but not there, every cell of my being focused on the sight of my huge fuckpole stuck halfway inside that beautiful rump.

  “I’m sorry Harold?” Joanie said breathily again. “Oh, ummm!” she cried out.

  Because I’d just pushed it in deep. That’s right, I slid ten inches of male power into her rectum and those walls squeezed me tight now, pulsing and clamping.

  “Oh ummm!” Joanie cried out again, breasts heaving, the color high in her cheeks.

  But it was too dark to tell. Not unless you knew what was going on. So Harold prattled on cluelessly about his two cats Mittens and Kittens. What the hell? What guy names his cats Mittens and Kittens? What alpha male has cats at all?

  But neither my girl nor I were really listening. Instead,
we were both focused on where our bodies met, where my pole had begun a deep slide into her anal passage.

  “Oh!” she cried out again breathily. “Oh oh!”

  Meanwhile, I couldn’t keep completely silent either.

  “Fuck,” was my low growl. “Fuck you feel good.”

  Because this was so wrong. We were in the back of a darkened bar having anal sex. Yeah, my girl was sitting on a bar stool, chitchatting away with a stranger as I buttfucked her from behind, letting my pole slide in and out of her anus. It was fucking unbelievable.

  “Oh!” she cried out again, eyes rolling up so that the whites showed. “I’m sorry Harold, what did you say?”

  And it went on like that for a couple minutes. The girl squirming and squealing a bit, never so obvious as to raise any alarms. Me, hammering away from behind, trying to look nonchalant as my cock worked, coated in ass sweat and pre-cum. The situation was fucking unreal.

  But Joanie’s small. She’s real small, even after taking six guys in her bottom. Because after a few minutes, the sperm began boiling in my balls and I grabbed her hips, fingers pressing into that soft flesh.

  “Fuck,” I cursed softly into her ear. “Fuck fuck!”