Chapter Five

Carmen’s pulse raced when he shut the door behind them. She didn’t know if it was terror or wild desire coursing through her, but she was dizzy with excitement from one or the other. Brock took a pillow from her bed and placed it on the floor in front of his feet. At once, the glamour melted away from him and he was clad in her short robe once more. Brock untied it and tossed it away. Carmen swallowed with difficulty. A gorgeous, shining erection sprang from his groin. Carmen caught the faintest whiff of musk from him—woodsy, earthy, and green-sweet like new grass. She watched, frozen with lust, as he took the huge organ in his fist and pumped it slowly. “You keep looking at it, Carmen,” he whispered. “Don’t you want to taste it?”

Carmen’s mouth fell open. A million reasons why not flickered through her mind like a shuffling deck of cards. It’s not what nice girls do, you don’t even know this man, he’s a peeping tom, he’s far too presumptuous, he might be dangerous…

Then she looked back down. A clear drop of pre-cum had escaped from the tip of his shaft. It slackened the ruddy round head as he moved his hand over it. She salivated, desperate to know just how delicious he would taste.

As in a trance, Carmen dropped to her knees on the pillow before him. She lifted her hand to his erection. Oh, God, it was just as steel-hard as she’d hoped. She cupped his balls in her hand, savoring their weight. Although she was ravenous for his cock, Carmen wanted to sample his balls first. She gripped his length in her hand, pumping it slowly, and lowered her face to his sac.

She traced her tongue over the loose skin, nibbling it between her lips then opened her mouth wider to suck in one plump testicle. It filled her mouth and dominated her senses. He tasted masculine and vital. It was everything she’d been missing for the past five years. Well, almost.

She released his testicle from her mouth, giving the skin of his sac one final, appreciative kiss, and turned her attention to his erection. Carmen licked the slit in its tip. The flavor of his semen spread across her tongue like a melting cube of sugar. Delicious. Intoxicating.

Brock ran his fingers over her scalp as she drew him into her mouth. His cock grew thicker between her lips. Carmen gripped his rear to pull him closer. The firm curves of his ass cheeks bunched beneath her fingers. He plunged into her mouth, silent and intent.

Carmen’s mouth watered like that of a starving animal. Her mouth filled with saliva, encasing Brock’s shaft in a wet sheath. She swallowed, tongue and lips moving rhythmically, and Brock grunted. Carmen pulled his hips towards her face faster, feeding his length into her mouth at a greater speed. Brock gave a feral shout as his orgasm overtook him. He pumped his shaft into Carmen’s mouth, using two fistfuls of her hair to hold her head in place. His grip was entirely unnecessary, though. Carmen was deliriously aroused and was savoring every yummy drop that he gave her.

Carmen slid her hands between Brock’s legs, letting her fingers glide over the lightly furred skin of his thighs. She suckled appreciatively as his orgasm wound down. He released his tight hold on her hair and ran his fingers down the side of her face. “That was fabulous, Carmen. Damn, woman, that felt good.”

Carmen let his softening penis slide wetly from her mouth. “It was my pleasure, I assure you.” She planted a kiss on the tender skin of his upper thigh and stood. Going down on Brock had fired up every nerve in her body—the crotch of her jeans was clammy and damp with her juices. Dressed in her bulky navy sweatshirt as well, Carmen felt entirely too clothed as she ran her hands down the warm skin of Brock’s ribs and hips. “From peeping tomcat to blow job recipient in one night,” she whispered, and licked the sticky corners of her mouth. “I’d say you’re doing pretty good, Brock.”

“But I’m not done yet,” he informed her. He slipped her sweatshirt over her head in one quick movement. Carmen blushed to feel the cool air on her exposed breasts. A pesky voice in the back of her mind fretted, You don’t know this guy! Carmen shooed it away with ease, choosing to focus on the glorious sight before her eyes. I know that he looks, tastes and feels divine, and that it’ll do me no good whatsoever to call the cops.

“Five years, huh, Carmen?” Brock noted. He unbuttoned her jeans and shoved them down to her ankles before lifting her feet, one at a time, to free her from the heavy denim. “That’s way too long, lovely.”

He pressed his broad, warm chest against hers, letting the tight nubs of her tits rub against his smooth skin. Shifting his hips against hers, Brock rubbed his semi-erect cock against Carmen’s belly. He took her breasts in his hands and kneaded them. Carmen felt the soft inner walls of her cunt melt when he lowered his face to suckle one nipple. “Oh, God,” she murmured.

Brock eased her against the foot of the bed and cupped his hand between her legs. “You’re so wet,” he said, his voice muffled by his mouthful of her flesh.

Carmen’s knees felt weak and she was grateful to have the edge of the bed propping her up. She wondered idly if she’d have a hickey or two by the time this was over. Carmen gasped with pain and surprise when he bit her nipple between his sharp teeth, then sighed when he covered the offended breast with his soothing, wet mouth.

He eased his fingers into her pussy - pushing one, then two, then three inside her. Carmen’s body thrummed with energy. She bucked her hips against his hand, and cried out when he brought the pad of his thumb to her clit. “Mmm-hmm,” she murmured, “that’s good.”

Brock lifted his face from her reddened, swollen breast. Not missing a beat with his finger-fucking, he lifted his other hand to the side of her face. “You’re so beautiful, Carmen,” he told her, “in every way I can see.” Carmen’s pussy contracted around his fingers, sending a fresh torrent of her juices running down his hand. Brock eased his other hand behind her neck, holding her as though she were made of crystal.

“I haven’t kissed you yet,” he whispered, “but I’ve wanted to. I’ve watched you sleeping, and watched you in the mornings when you wake up and touch yourself. I’ve watched you dancing at the rec centre, and wanted to rush into the room and take you right there.” He traced circles with his thumb over her clit. “I’ve watched you care for your animals. I’ve watched you do your law work, and I’ve watched you bag vegetables at the food co-op.” He lowered his face to hers so that Carmen felt the warm, moist puffs of air from his mouth.

Inside her, he found her G-spot with his fingertip. Carmen closed her eyes and thrust her hips against his palm, begging for more of the contact.

His lips brushed against hers, softly and reverently. Carmen felt her orgasm move like the flow of lava from a volcano—from her weeping pussy, to her swollen, sensitive tits, and finally to her mouth, where it bloomed like a firework.

She cried out, but her shout was muted by his lips on hers. He filled her mouth with his tongue, mimicking the methodical fucking that his hand was giving her cunt. Carmen fell limp against the foot of the bed as her climax throbbed through her body. Brock kept his fingers deep inside her until her last spasm ended.

When Carmen opened her eyes, she saw Brock’s satisfied face before her. “Was it worth the wait?” he asked.

Carmen laughed shakily. “It was amazing,” she answered, “although I sure don’t want to wait another five years before it happens again.”

Cock-a-doodle-doooo!

Carmen realized that, in the midst of the first sex she’d had in half a decade, the first rays of sunlight had crept over the countryside. “That would be Spare Tire,” she told Brock, “greeting the dawn.”

Carmen gloried in the gorgeous tactile sensation of his nude body pressed against hers and the tender kisses he placed on the side of her neck. “What do you say we get cleaned up,” Brock offered, “and I show you where I live in the woods?”

“Ah.” Carmen nodded. She cupped her hands around his sculpted ass cheeks and traced her fingers down the crease between them. “And where do the Fair Folk live, anyway? In toadstool rings glamoured up to look like condos? Maybe a glamoured cave that looks like a posh hotel?”

“Erm, no. What I’ll show you is the real deal, no glamour involved,” Brock told her. “You have to understand that you can’t ever tell anyone about it. Not that it would matter, though—”

“Right, because if I brought anyone out to see it, they’d see, like, a big pile of firewood or something.”

“Exactly,” Brock confirmed. “And, Carmen, do you think we could maybe bring some of your eggs to the homestead? We don’t have any chickens, and the eggs you have are free-range…”

Carmen chuckled. “By all means, Brock. Let’s save you the trouble of stealing any more.” She thought she saw the faintest trace of a blush beneath his deeply tanned cheeks. “And yes, I’d be happy to bring some eggs in exchange for a visit to the Fair Folk’s home in the woods.”