Part 1 can be found here
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“No, Sarah, I’d like it back now, if you don’t mind.”

Sarah didn’t respond to him; the words he had just spoken hadn’t fully sunk in. He stood up from the bed, and as he did, the bedsheet fell away, revealing his broad, muscular body. He stepped towards her.

“Sarah?” he asked, his voice low. “Did you hear me?” She felt her cheeks warm as she nodded.

“Y-yes,” she managed, barely above a whisper.

“Yes, you heard me?” he pressed, stepping closer. “Or yes, you don’t mind?”

“Yes,” she whispered again, her pulse thudding in her ears as she watched him, feeling herself unable to move.

“Is this really happening?” Sarah thought, her heart racing as she tried to steady her breathing. She felt lightheaded, almost hopelessly dizzy. A small part of her wanted to leave, to step back from this entire situation. But the other, larger, part wouldn’t let her.

He collected himself for a moment.

“Sarah, I think you’ve made a mistake coming in here, and maybe I shouldn’t have said…” He trailed off, but she felt the tension between them only increasing. She swallowed, feeling a sudden pull toward him. She knew exactly what she wanted.

Taking two steps forward, Sarah brought her body up against his—only then noticing that her forehead barely reached his nose. Placing her slender hands on his chest, she peered up and found him peering back down at her, his brown eyes full of intensity. She could feel his heart thundering in his chest, deep powerful pulses that betrayed his calm exterior.

“Please, I’d like to give your t-shirt back now,” she gently uttered.

The next ten minutes were a slow, methodical affair. He kissed her gently on the lips, bringing his big warm hands up to her chin and ensuring she focused on only him. The kisses progressed to her jawline and neck, all given with the same hungry intensity. His hands slipped down to her hips, gently guiding her against the still ajar bedroom door, her bum clicking it shut and leaving them alone in the room. Her knees began to feel weak, but his hands gripped her hips with such gentle power that she felt as if she was floating off the ground, weightless in his powerful grasp.

Releasing his grip, his hands started to travel under the t-shirt, up the sides of her torso and across her back, as she felt him pulling her even closer. The kisses continued, with the same intense rhythm as before.

“Oh, fuck,” she murmured.

“I want a better look at you,” he grunted as he released his hold on her. Dazed, she began to pull up the t-shirt to remove it, only for both her wrists to be firmly held instead.

“No, leave this on for now—you seem to like it,” he said.

Lifting her arms gently to the side and away from her body, he let go of her wrists and slowly raised the t-shirt up to her armpits. Placing one strong arm behind her, he gripped the t-shirt in a bunch between her shoulder blades to ensure it wouldn’t fall back down. Kissing her on the mouth again, his spare hand began to explore her breasts. Firmly but carefully, he cupped and squeezed each breast in turn, running his thumb around her now-hard nipples and gently tugging at them.

Sarah’s breathing had become even more erratic, her body sinking again. Between kisses, she caught glimpses of her own body being gently held and handled by his enormous, powerful hands. She’d never felt this helpless and yet so safe in someone’s hands before.

Allowing the t-shirt to drop down her torso again, he knelt down, bringing his head to her waist. Passionately kissing her stomach, his hands ran up and down her thighs, eventually coming around to her bum, his fingers slipping under the back of her panties, and roughly pulling her into his lips. Her hands gripped his shoulders for support, her fingers struggling to wrap around them, her nails digging slightly into his skin.

The kisses began to move lower, now along the waistband of the front of her panties.

“Oh, fuck,” she tried to say again, but this time it was no more than a feeble, almost inaudible, whisper. She started to feel her panties being inched down by his hands, his lips following every newly exposed bit of skin as he did. Suddenly, he pulled her panties all the way down to her ankles, his mouth lingering on her pubic mound.

“It’s so pretty,” he exhaled, slightly leaning back to admire her. Gently parting her knees, one of his hands ran up her inner thigh and brushed against her pussy.

“And why are you so wet, Sarah?”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

He lifted her onto the bed, positioning her so her hips rested at the edge, her legs draped over his shoulders. She watched him intently, her eyes trailing over his body, taking in every inch. Slowly, she reached between her own thighs, wrapping her hand around his cock and giving it a gentle tug.

It took only one touch from her to give his body the final stimulation it needed, and precum oozed from his large, glistening head. She watched as a strong flow leaked from him, seemingly endless, until it reached the floor.

“It’s not my turn yet, Sarah,” he groaned, pausing his kisses for a moment. Kneeling down again, he placed her legs over his shoulders and ran his tongue up her inner thigh, straight to her waiting clit.

Almost instantly, he applied gentle suction, his tongue swirling over her with pinpoint accuracy. Sensing that this was nearly too much for Sarah, he placed his forearms over hers, pinning her to the bed to keep her from wriggling away.

“Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” she moaned, alternating between trying to pull her clit away from his mouth and pressing herself against him harder. His head continued to follow her subtle movements, his tongue showing no signs of relenting.

“I can’t—not this quickly,” she thought. But it was no use; she could feel waves of pleasure taking over her body, and the wetness between her legs increased. “I’m going to cum!” she blurted out.

“Not yet, Sarah,” he said, removing his mouth from her clit. Her hips moved instinctively, trying to reconnect with his touch, frustration building as pleasure slipped out of reach. “Please, please,” she whispered, feeling a strange mix of longing and vulnerability. She could hardly believe how much she wanted this, how much she needed him to bring her back to the edge.

He resumed gentle kisses along her inner thighs, his head dominating the space between her legs. Her hips continued to thrust at him, but more gently now as the sense of frustration faded.

“Sarah, you’ve made a mess of my bed, sweetheart,” he said, observing the patch of wetness on the sheet. “I’m sorry,” she responded.

“Nod if you’d like to cum now,” he asked. Sarah nodded eagerly, and almost immediately felt his mouth return firmly to her clit.

The waves of pleasure came rushing back. Her vision narrowed, her stomach tensed, and her legs gently kicked over his broad shoulders. She couldn’t hold out for more than five seconds.

“I’m going to cum!”

The force of his forearms holding her down only increased, pressing her deep into the bed. Her head flung back, her legs spasmed, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. The orgasm hit her hard, every muscle in her body tensing. He continued to run his broad tongue around her clit until he sensed she couldn’t take any more.

“Good girl,” he grunted, rubbing his hand over the wetness on his chin. “You’d better go get that shower now, before Becky gets home.”

Sarah wanted to stay, wanted more, but his gentle instruction brought her back to reality. The mention of Becky stirred a nervous flutter in her chest, and she let him guide her to the bedroom door, his hand warm on her lower back. As she walked toward Becky’s bathroom in his oversized shirt, she tried to steady herself, feeling both exhilarated and uncertain about what had just unfolded.

Becky arrived back twenty minutes later, and the day passed quickly as Becky and Sarah went out shopping and for lunch. Sarah avoided any questions from Becky about what she’d got up to while she’d been working. Returning home after dark, they found the house warm and inviting, with snow beginning to fall outside. The spare room had been made up for Sarah, courtesy of Becky’s dad, and the log fire was lit downstairs. The smell of cooking filled the air.

“What are you cooking, Dad?” Becky asked, coming into the kitchen with Sarah behind her. “Hi, girls—it’s bolognese tonight,” came the reply. Becky and Sarah relaxed at the table for a while, Becky’s dad busy cooking in the background.

“Can we help at all, Dad?” Becky inquired. “Sure, you can slice the focaccia for me if you’d like,” he replied. “I’ll do it,” Sarah said, jumping up from her seat.

Sarah walked over to the chopping board, took a kitchen knife from the block, and started slicing. She was halfway through when she felt someone behind her and saw a hand reach around to clasp her wrist.

“No, not with a chef’s knife, Sarah—use the bread knife! You’ll slip and lose a finger,” Becky’s dad said, his hand tightening around her wrist. The knife paused mid-slice. Sarah couldn’t help but gently push her hips back against him.

“SARAH!” hissed Becky, causing Sarah to flinch as if she’d been caught. “Is Dad bullying you? Dad, she’s not silly - let her get on with it.” “I know,” he replied, “I know. But be careful, for me.”

Dinner was relaxed, with two bottles of red wine shared between the three. Hours passed, and finally, Becky’s dad stood up and said, “I’m going to head up to my study now. I’ll take my glass with me and leave you two to enjoy the rest of your night.” He stood, gently kissed Becky on her head, said goodnight, and headed upstairs.

At that moment, Sarah was overcome with a sense of longing for him to stay and jealousy that Becky got a kiss goodnight. She knew both were irrational, but she couldn’t help it.

They headed up to bed around midnight, taking turns in Becky’s bathroom before going to their separate rooms. Sarah found another one of his old t-shirts to wear and climbed into bed—this time, leaving her panties on the floor.

Trying to drift off to sleep, she found her mind racing—she couldn’t forget what had happened earlier. Tonight’s t-shirt smelled exactly the same as the last, filling her nostrils with his scent again. She slid her hand under the blanket, finding herself soaked again. Slipping a finger inside herself, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine him deep inside her. She wanted to feel his fullness, to feel his heavy balls thud against her, to feel him uncontrollably pounding her. She had to have it.

She stood up and headed to the spare room door. Cautiously opening it, she crept down the long hallway toward the study, past his bedroom and bathroom. She could see the door was open, with a soft light visible. “He must still be awake,” she thought.

Still creeping, she walked through the open doorway to find him with his back to her at his desk. Music was quietly playing, and she could just about make out a book in his hands, mostly obscured by his wide back and broad shoulders.

Stretching tonight's t-shirt down past her thighs to make up for the lack of panties, she gently said, “Sorry to disturb, but I might really need you.”

//END OF PART 2