The kitchen counter

Different house, later that summer, and still not the gym. The party had thinned to cups and a lamp. I leaned on the kitchen counter in the black hoodie and leggings, braid loose, twenty-six, fully dressed, the cups behind me blank of any logo. Rhett found me there. He is twenty-nine. We had talked on the back step for ten minutes, long enough for me to say I wanted his cock and that this kitchen was the place, and long enough to say floor if I needed the night to stop. He said he heard me.

I turned, back to the counter, and pulled him in by the belt. We kissed like people who are not going to pretend it is a romance. I shoved the leggings and underwear down to my knees and left the hoodie on for a minute because I liked the counter against my spine and the stupid fact of still being half dressed. His hand went between my legs. My cunt was slick. He rubbed my clit with two fingers and I told him harder, then told him I wanted his cock. He got his cock out. I looked at it, thick and already wet at the tip, and I said fuck my cunt.

Rhett lifted me onto the counter. The cups rattled. My sneakers knocked a cabinet. He pushed his cock into my cunt and I hooked my heels behind his thighs so he could not be polite about it. He fucked my cunt standing, deep strokes, one hand on the counter and one under my hoodie on my breast. I held his shoulder and talked filth because that is how I get there. I told him his cock felt huge in my cunt. I told him to fuck me like the party was not ten feet away. Someone laughed in the other room. I got wetter. I did not say floor. I said more.

He fucked my cunt faster. I reached down and rubbed my clit while his cock worked in me, and the orgasm came up sharp. I squirted a little, a hot rush on his cock and the counter edge, and I swore and laughed at the same time. He groaned and kept fucking me through it. I told him to cum in my cunt. I wanted to feel it. He shoved deep and came inside my cunt, cock pulsing, his forehead on my shoulder, a rough sound he tried and failed to keep quiet. I stayed on his cock until the pulses stopped, then eased off and felt his cum leak out of my cunt onto my fingers. I showed him. He looked wrecked in the good way.

I wiped the counter with a towel from the stove handle. Leggings up, hoodie straight, braid a mess. I called a car from the front step and did not ask Rhett to ride. He kissed my cheek because I let him. The car came. I went home to the shared house and slept alone, smug, already thinking I might want a different body next weekend.