Fake Love ลวงรักสัมพันธ์ร้าย

"Is it really that hard to get in?"

Maureen, the local light-skinned girl seems to be struggling to aim the solid missile of the grown man beneath her at her untouched cleavage while squatting down.

Maureen's wide eyes closed once she got the right spot.

The density both thrilled and hurt her. Maureen had to bite her lower lip to keep the sound from escaping so that the owner of the missile would not wake up.

"It hurts ...."

Maureen fell silent, letting hers swallow the rough flesh inside entirely. Her long, lustrous eyelashes even looked damp though no tears had fallen.

Both of Maureen's calves were already clinging to the surface of the mattress, flanking the firm thighs underneath, when the throbbing came.

Slowly the sting on Maureen's innermost walls created an instinct that forced her to move. Maureen... was still unfamiliar with the vibrations that ran through the entire surface of her skin.

Her joints relaxed every time she lifted her hips high, then sank back down again with that desired hardness.

Maureen didn't care if she was considered a slut, a slut, a jal*ang, or any of those harsh words. She had waited a long time for the opportunity to feel the perfection of a mature man eleven years older than her.

Confident that her movements will not disturb her idol's slumber, Maureen slips off her T-shirt as she stares at the bare chest in front of her.

In Maureen's opinion, an exhausted Darren like that is very sexy.

Darren's upper body is defined by a ton of muscle that's just right for twenty-eight. Shoulders that looked muscular and strong enough to lean on, and large fingers that might be just right for crushing his every ego in a passionate encounter.

Maureen didn't know yet. She only tried to feel it by lifting Darren's wrist to touch the firm, rounded solids of his chest.

"That's ridiculous," Maureen thought as she managed to get Darren's fingers inside her bra bowl.

Maureen's hips moved even more randomly. No longer lifting high, but twisting like a mill that kept smoothing her dreams.

Maureen looked up, imagining herself flying through the tightening grip.

"Keep going, Om Darren!" she moans over and over again, imagining the man beneath her fulfilling her fantasies in a conscious state.

"Ah! Faster!" Maureen kept asking, in fact it was her waist that was moving crazily, shaking the bed beneath her.

The racing pounding in her heart was no longer caution, but replaced with desire that needed to be conveyed.

The explosion was inevitable. Warmth filled the union until it flowed down with a faint reddish spot.

Maureen's knees were too weak to move. She lay limply on Darren's chest, embracing the warmth presented before her eyes.

"No wonder those who date say that 'play' is good."

Maureen just knew how that felt. Not because she wasn't dating, let alone sweating it out in bed, but because her attention was always on someone.

"You're mine, Uncle!"

***

Darren struggled to open his eyes and wished he could go back to sleep. His body was too broken after the road trip from the north that was filled with potholes. Not even a shower could erase the fatigue.

Feeling dreams coming on, Darren savored the twitches that gripped his prized asset.

"How many days has it been?" Darren wondered, needing a release right then and there.

He's too lazy to get off the bed and chooses to enjoy the highly erotic dream.

Darren's solid fingers reached out for a tightness that fit perfectly in the grip. Softly.

A melodious screech sounded. A voice that was close and familiar. But because Darren thought it was all a dream, he continued to murmur faintly.

If it was real, he'd love to satisfy Darren with that object of female pride.

He pulls down the annoying cover and gently strokes every surface he can reach.

Once again, there's a long, drawn-out moan as he manages to get as much of the stiffening peak as he can into his mouth.

Darren gripped the loinbone solidity of his headrest, while his own continued to feel increasingly gripped by the warm, enveloping sheath.

"Much better than usual." Darren continued to murmur, sucking hungrily on the pair before him in turn.

Darren's hips reflexively move in search of the pleasure down there. The collision at the tip sent a bolt of electricity through his head.

Darren's grip tightens, giving way to an increasingly demanding grip.

It's no longer the imaginary man on top, it's the man bearing down heavily.

His head is still very hard to lift, lolling in the fresh rose fragrance of the strands that greet the smell.

The smooth, slender limbs next to Darren's thighs open up the distance, flanking the man's waist possessively.

Not to be left out, Darren pursues her release by pounding her faster and deeper. Not a single space is left unattended.

The sounds intensify. The breath caressing Darren's earlobes, as well as the wetness of sticky sweat rubbing against the surface of his skin, is instantly sobering.

Forcing his clingy eyelids open, facing the light that penetrated through the room's window divider, Darren spontaneously glared after the weight shot from his body.

"This isn't a dream?"

Another scream followed. Not just Darren's, but the girl who had become an outlet in his bed right then and there.

"Why are you here?" Darren immediately backed away, falling off the edge of the bed.

Ignoring the pain in his ass, Darren reached for the set of curtains to cover his intimate parts. He repeated the question while pointing at the long-haired figure that turned out not to be a dream.

The girl - who was no longer a girl - on Darren's bed pulled back the sheets and wrapped the thin fabric around her body. "Mom just told me to come in when I was leaving," he explained without guilt or regret.

The long, wet reddish lines printed on the sheet made Darren tighten his grip on the curtain. He realized he had made a big mistake. "Rin?" he called hesitantly.

"What?" The owner of Maureen's name endured the lingering pain in her groin as she picked up some clothes to put on.

"We're not ...." Darren wanted to shirk his actions, but it was impossible given the scene before him.

The man vividly remembers the curves in every touch that was on display before his eyes when Maureen changed clothes without shame. Darren struggled to gulp down the saliva that filled his mouth.

"If you don't want to admit it, it doesn't matter." Maureen even approached Darren's presence and held the object that had entered her from outside the curtain. "That was great."

"Rin ...." Darren's lips parted, trying to hide the hiss of savoring the touch that had hardened him so drastically.

"Stop calling me Rin! Say it clearly!" protests Maureen as she turns her back to Darren and tucks her legs into her shorts.

Of course the tightness that was visible when Maureen bent over also exposed the reddish cleavage from their actions. There was still some residue of Darren's release that glistened in the outside light.

"This is wrong, Rin!" Darren reached for the other curtain, covering himself as he grew hotter from the late teen's seductive behavior. He almost reached the closet, but a dressed Maureen held the door open.

"Uncle enjoys it too." Brashly, Maureen drapes an arm around Darren's bare shoulders. "You sprayed a lot earlier."

Darren's desire to get rid of Maureen's grip opens the curtain that covers him. Darren is at a loss for words and Maureen is amused.

Darren's awkwardness is attractive to Maureen.

"I didn't realize, okay?" Darren's wide-eyed gaze seems to be pleading for justification. There's a fear in his heart that's stirring.

Darren took a pause between them to reach for his shorts which were lying at the end of the bed. He felt goosebumps near the son of his father's best friend.

It wasn't like they were used to when they still didn't know the opposite sex in a special relationship. Maureen ruined all of Darren's expectations about the relationship between them.

"Now you realize, right?" Maureen was already in front of Darren when he turned around. "Shall we do it again, Uncle?"

***