Alex
- 2 years ago
- 17
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Alex free porn video
There are people we know with whom we have immediate chemistry that should never be explored. This is a palpable thing that moves between the two of you, like an electrical field. But for whatever reason - the structure of relationships, propriety, simple good manners - you never cross into discussing it.
Alex and I crossed into it one drunken night. We were two beers and several shots into the night, and while walking her home, I slurred out that it was too bad she was a lesbian.
She stood in her doorway, looking at me with those dark eyes. “I’m not exactly a lesbian,” she said. We looked at each other for a long, meaningful moment. Then I hugged her silently goodnight, went home, and passed out.
We never spoke of it, but things between us changed after that. I began to pay closer attention to her body, imagine the curves that lurked inside those baggy sweaters. We looked at each other differently - first with inquisitiveness and meaning, and later with the quiet resentment that arises from something unfulfilled. We got snappier with each other, our humor more barbed.
Then, I learned that Alex had slept with Jane. Jane and I had split up over year before, but it still dug into me. A mutual friend told me that they’d hooked up at a party, a piece of knowledge that felt like a burning coal in my mouth. For several nights after that, I lay in bed, my cock in my hand, imagining them fucking each other, my belly full of arousal and resentment.
A few months after that, Alex got into some financial trouble and moved into my apartment briefly until she could make enough money to get a place of her own. It was a long, tedious, tense August, in a small apartment with poor air conditioning. We drank a lot, and quickly became openly annoyed with one another. She walked around in tank-tops, a light sheen of sweat covering her from her closely-cropped hair to her bare ankles. Her breasts were somehow both small and full. I lay in bed at night, resenting her inability to do dishes, resenting her taste in music, resenting who she might be fucking or imagining fucking. And I stroked my cock. I stroked it and stroked it. I shot jets of cum while imagining the look on her face if she knew. It was a complicated look of violation, resentment, and excitement.
We were half-drunk in the living room, trying to watch a movie, and it was hot. The couch was too small, and we couldn’t get away from each other. “Move the fuck over,” she said.
I huffed, and sat on the floor. “You don’t need to be an asshole about it,” I said.
“Fuck you,” she growled. The booze was making her mean-spirited, which in turn ignited a mean spirit in me.
“Fuck me? Fuck you. No seriously, fuck you. You’re living here rent-free, and you’re being a serious pain in the ass. Can you pick up after yourself? Maybe do the dishes every once in a while.”
She stared at me, her eyes wide and fiery. “What the fuck is your problem?” she said.
I glared at her for a long, silent moment. “Jane,” I replied.
She crossed her arms, her head tilting to one side.
“Did you fuck her?” I asked.
She stared at me, then nodded once. “I wanted to see if she gives head as good as you say. And she does.”
I breathed heavily through flared nostrils. “You live in my house,” I growled, “you eat my food, and you fuck my ex. Can you please at least do some fucking dishes?”
She moved slightly towards me in a menacing way, then stood and stomped to the kitchen. I watched her stalking away, the back of her head, the black tank-top and green pajama shorts. I chugged my beer and sat there, listening to the running water and plates banging around, feeling the hot weight of our argument boring into me.
Finally, I stood and walked to the kitchen, standing in the doorway. I could see her in profile, the slight frown on her face, the curve of her breasts and ass, her hands wet and sudsy. I could tell she was looking at me from the corner of her eye. And suddenly, something about her changed. It was nearly imperceptible - the angle of her hip, the arch of her back. I began to move towards her. I was drunk and buzzing with a visceral anticipation. Finally, I was standing behind her, so close I could see the top of her head.
She simply stood there, our bodies so close we almost touched. When I grabbed her by the back of the neck, she let out a yelp - was it protest? Excitement? I hooked the fingers of my other hand in the waistband of her shorts, yanking it down hard. I pressed her against the counter and looked down, finally admiring the full shape of her hips, her ass.
I tugged my pajama pants down, and my cock popped out and brushed against her ass. She jerked slightly at the feel of that thick, fleshy head touching her bare skin. I pushed her legs apart with my feet and took my cock in my hand, pushing it between her thighs. She gripped the edges of the counter, and I moaned in surprise at how wet she was.
I grabbed her by the shoulders and pumped my hips upward, driving my cock into her as hard as I could. Her cunt was a slick, wet, velvety flower that I had to crush. She reached up and grabbed the cupboards, her voice a tangle of inarticulate cries ... “Wha ... yeah ... nngg ... nah ... ”
My balls were slick with her juices, and I could feel them slapping against her as I pounded her wet little cunt, her ass bouncing with each thrust, my hips slapping against her so hard she was lifted onto her toes. She suddenly stopped crying out, stopped breathing altogether, her body a stiff, arched board .. then all at once, a full-body shudder, every inch of her collapsing in on itself, a low, guttural moan escaping her. I pulled out, pressing my cock against her back as it began to jerk, my cum splattering on her ass and her top.
I released her shoulders, stepping back to assess the situation. She reached down quietly and pulled up her shorts. She turned to face me, reaching down to wrap her hand around my softening cock and give it a single, soft stroke. “You should finish the dishes,” she said, then left the room and went to bed.
It was the only time. She moved out the next week, and met her life partner a month later. We are still friends, though distantly, and we never spoke of it.
Alex and I crossed into it one drunken night. We were two beers and several shots into the night, and while walking her home, I slurred out that it was too bad she was a lesbian.
She stood in her doorway, looking at me with those dark eyes. “I’m not exactly a lesbian,” she said. We looked at each other for a long, meaningful moment. Then I hugged her silently goodnight, went home, and passed out.
We never spoke of it, but things between us changed after that. I began to pay closer attention to her body, imagine the curves that lurked inside those baggy sweaters. We looked at each other differently - first with inquisitiveness and meaning, and later with the quiet resentment that arises from something unfulfilled. We got snappier with each other, our humor more barbed.
Then, I learned that Alex had slept with Jane. Jane and I had split up over year before, but it still dug into me. A mutual friend told me that they’d hooked up at a party, a piece of knowledge that felt like a burning coal in my mouth. For several nights after that, I lay in bed, my cock in my hand, imagining them fucking each other, my belly full of arousal and resentment.
A few months after that, Alex got into some financial trouble and moved into my apartment briefly until she could make enough money to get a place of her own. It was a long, tedious, tense August, in a small apartment with poor air conditioning. We drank a lot, and quickly became openly annoyed with one another. She walked around in tank-tops, a light sheen of sweat covering her from her closely-cropped hair to her bare ankles. Her breasts were somehow both small and full. I lay in bed at night, resenting her inability to do dishes, resenting her taste in music, resenting who she might be fucking or imagining fucking. And I stroked my cock. I stroked it and stroked it. I shot jets of cum while imagining the look on her face if she knew. It was a complicated look of violation, resentment, and excitement.
We were half-drunk in the living room, trying to watch a movie, and it was hot. The couch was too small, and we couldn’t get away from each other. “Move the fuck over,” she said.
I huffed, and sat on the floor. “You don’t need to be an asshole about it,” I said.
“Fuck you,” she growled. The booze was making her mean-spirited, which in turn ignited a mean spirit in me.
“Fuck me? Fuck you. No seriously, fuck you. You’re living here rent-free, and you’re being a serious pain in the ass. Can you pick up after yourself? Maybe do the dishes every once in a while.”
She stared at me, her eyes wide and fiery. “What the fuck is your problem?” she said.
I glared at her for a long, silent moment. “Jane,” I replied.
She crossed her arms, her head tilting to one side.
“Did you fuck her?” I asked.
She stared at me, then nodded once. “I wanted to see if she gives head as good as you say. And she does.”
I breathed heavily through flared nostrils. “You live in my house,” I growled, “you eat my food, and you fuck my ex. Can you please at least do some fucking dishes?”
She moved slightly towards me in a menacing way, then stood and stomped to the kitchen. I watched her stalking away, the back of her head, the black tank-top and green pajama shorts. I chugged my beer and sat there, listening to the running water and plates banging around, feeling the hot weight of our argument boring into me.
Finally, I stood and walked to the kitchen, standing in the doorway. I could see her in profile, the slight frown on her face, the curve of her breasts and ass, her hands wet and sudsy. I could tell she was looking at me from the corner of her eye. And suddenly, something about her changed. It was nearly imperceptible - the angle of her hip, the arch of her back. I began to move towards her. I was drunk and buzzing with a visceral anticipation. Finally, I was standing behind her, so close I could see the top of her head.
She simply stood there, our bodies so close we almost touched. When I grabbed her by the back of the neck, she let out a yelp - was it protest? Excitement? I hooked the fingers of my other hand in the waistband of her shorts, yanking it down hard. I pressed her against the counter and looked down, finally admiring the full shape of her hips, her ass.
I tugged my pajama pants down, and my cock popped out and brushed against her ass. She jerked slightly at the feel of that thick, fleshy head touching her bare skin. I pushed her legs apart with my feet and took my cock in my hand, pushing it between her thighs. She gripped the edges of the counter, and I moaned in surprise at how wet she was.
I grabbed her by the shoulders and pumped my hips upward, driving my cock into her as hard as I could. Her cunt was a slick, wet, velvety flower that I had to crush. She reached up and grabbed the cupboards, her voice a tangle of inarticulate cries ... “Wha ... yeah ... nngg ... nah ... ”
My balls were slick with her juices, and I could feel them slapping against her as I pounded her wet little cunt, her ass bouncing with each thrust, my hips slapping against her so hard she was lifted onto her toes. She suddenly stopped crying out, stopped breathing altogether, her body a stiff, arched board .. then all at once, a full-body shudder, every inch of her collapsing in on itself, a low, guttural moan escaping her. I pulled out, pressing my cock against her back as it began to jerk, my cum splattering on her ass and her top.
I released her shoulders, stepping back to assess the situation. She reached down quietly and pulled up her shorts. She turned to face me, reaching down to wrap her hand around my softening cock and give it a single, soft stroke. “You should finish the dishes,” she said, then left the room and went to bed.
It was the only time. She moved out the next week, and met her life partner a month later. We are still friends, though distantly, and we never spoke of it.
Makenna
- 04.06.2021
- 14
- 0
