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Brock Landers

Copyright 2018 Brock Landers



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WARNING: This story is intended for a mature audience only! Contains explicit, graphic sex and language. Not intended for individuals under the age of 18. All character are over 18 years of age.















Holy Shit.

It actually happened.

After spending nearly every waking moment over the last couple of days dreaming, hoping, praying and fantasizing about this turn of events, it actually happened.

I fucked the girl next door.

Well, truth be told, she did most of the work, but that’s to be expected. Why is that, you ask? We’ll get to that in a little bit. But first, I must digress. Set the scene, so to speak. Put some things on the record. Because, let’s be honest, this journal is going to be the only place I’ll ever be able to talk about any of this stuff.

That’s the only downside to this arrangement; I have to keep it to myself. Which is kind of a bummer, really. I mean, I just lived out what is quite possibly every young man’s dream—even if they won’t come right out and admit it—and I can’t even share the experience with anyone. Not any of my friends, that’s for sure. It would be all over Facebook and Twitter within minutes. And this is something I definitely don’t want getting around. I can only imagine what would happen if my mom ever found out. It would be the end of the world as I know it. And I most definitely would not feel fine.

But enough about my problems, let’s get to the good stuff.

I first noticed her three days ago. I’d gotten home from school just after noon (it was my senior year and I only had a half-slate of classes) and my mom was still at work. I went to the fridge, got myself a Mountain Dew, opened the back door to let the dog out, then headed upstairs to spend a couple hours on the Playstation. But before I could get the game started, the dog started barking. So I looked outside to see what the fuss was all about.

That’s when I saw her.

It was impossible not to, really. After all, it’s not every day that you see a stranger lying topless on a lounge chair in your neighbor’s backyard.

“Who the fuck is that?” I said, not realizing I’d said it aloud until I actually heard the words. As far as I knew, the neighbors were childless. Granted, they’d only been living next door for about a year, but I’d never seen anyone under the age of forty over there. And certainly not this girl. I would have remembered her.

Even from a distance of a couple hundred feet, it was obvious she was ridiculously hot. A long, thin, perfectly-toned body, great tan, defined arms, sculpted legs, long brown hair, and a impossibly firm ass covered only by a micro-thin g-string bikini.

I just stood there and stared, transfixed, my dick getting hard just dreaming about getting a closer look at her, let alone doing anything else.

And then, as if on cue, she turned over, revealing her tits to the sun. On the smallish side but perky and firm, they were absolutely perfect. Not too big, not too small, more than a handful but not too much more. In a word, glorious.

She reached over and grabbed a water bottle and took a drink, exposing the hollow of her neck, then stretched out and settled into position. She had sunglasses on, so I only caught a glimpse of her face, but from what I could tell it was just as gorgeous as the rest of her.

I stood there for at least fifteen minutes, just staring and fantasizing, the rest of the world lost to me, my dick pressing painfully against my jeans. Questions bounced around in my head, all having to do with her. Who was she? How long would she be there? Did I possibly have a shot with her? (I knew the answer to this one of course, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t cross my mind.)

But most of all, one specific question nagged at me more than anything: Why did she look familiar? Because she did. At first I didn’t believe it. Just wishful thinking, I said to myself. There’s no way in hell I’d seen her before. It wasn’t something I would have forgotten. But that was the thing; I did remember. Somewhere, at one time, I’d seen her.

I couldn’t pinpoint why she felt so familiar to me. It wasn’t anything specific, not any part of her body that brought up the recollection—not her face, not her great tits, not her tight ass—it was just a general feeling. It was the idea of her that tickled the tip of my brain, brought it right there on the cusp of recognition. Perhaps if I could just get a closer look, I would be able to—

I was so locked up in my own thoughts that it took me a moment to notice she’d shifted positions again. This time she was sitting up a little straighter and her sunglasses were in her hand.

With a start, I realized she was looking right at me.

Holy shit.

I quickly took a step back, out of her line of sight. I had no idea how long she’d been looking at me or if she could even see me for that matter, but either way I felt a flush of shame—not for looking at her (after all, it was obvious she didn’t care about being seen, in fact probably wanted to) but simply at being caught. I waited about a minute then tilted my head and peeked around the edge of the window to see if she’d had any reaction but she was gone.

I started to panic. What did she go inside for? Because she was embarrassed at being seen? (Doubtful) To call the cops to complain about a peeping tom? (Highly doubtful) Because the phone rang? (Probable) Because she was simply done tanning for the day? (Likely) Or maybe it was something else entirely. But whatever the reason, she was gone. The show was over.

After getting over my initial disappointment, I went into the bathroom and jerked off.


The next day I raced home to hopefully catch another glimpse of her, eschewing multiple requests by my friends to come over and hang out, giving them some lame excuse as to why I had to be home all the while keeping the real reason to myself.

After arriving home I immediately ran upstairs to have a look.


She was out there again, lying on her back, wearing the exact same outfit, (or lack of one, more accurately) obviously either unaware or not caring one bit that I had seen her the day before.

In fact, maybe it was nothing more than a coincidence, but today her chair was closer to my house and angled differently, so she was facing my window directly. Did she know I was watching her yesterday? Was this just her way of getting her jollies? Teasing me, perhaps?

Yeah, right, said the rational voice in my head. Keep dreaming, buddy. It’s just a better angle for the sun, that’s all.

Maybe it was and maybe it wasn’t. Who knew for sure? Certainly not I. But it didn’t really matter anyway. What did matter is that she was out there again, and this time I was prepared.

I’d set up a chair in the far corner of the room, allowing me to see just barely over the bottom of the window, and (in theory) making it impossible for her to see me (because of the angle) even if she happened to glance up. I also had a pair of mini-binoculars in case I wanted to get a closer look.

I closed and locked my door then pulled off my pants and sat down in the chair. My dick had been hard with anticipation pretty much all day, and now that the moment was here it was sticking out of my boxers without even the slightest touch. But that was about to change.

I don’t know about other guys out there, but for me, if my dick’s hard the urge to stroke it is almost unbearable. And so I started to stroke it slowly, all the while not taking my eyes off the vision of perfection lying in the sun below me. I took my time, working my cock in brief intervals, not wanting to waste a single second of the view by blowing my load before she was done for the day. Occasionally I would use my free hand to bring the binoculars to my eyes for a closer look, but for the most part I preferred the long-view to the close-up one.

About ten minutes in, she flipped over onto her back. Again she was topless, and again I marveled at the gall it took to sun topless outside in the open. The neighbor’s backyard was surrounded with old trees and shrubbery, and the only decent view to it from another house was from the exact spot I was in right now, but something told me that she didn’t give a fuck either way. The yard could be open to the world and she’d still be lying there half-naked.

And so I sat there in my chair, periodically stroking my dick while watching her soak up the sun, perfectly content and feeling like I’d won the lottery, when, as impossible as it might sound, things took a turn for the better.

Her right hand dropped to her bikini bottoms and she started to rub down there.

At first I wasn’t sure what she was doing. Adjusting the material? Scratching an itch? But after a few seconds of slowly rubbing in a circular manner, it suddenly clicked.

She too was touching herself.

Oh. My. God. You have got to be kidding me.

I fumbled for the binoculars to verify what I thought I’d seen. But when I finally got them to my eyes I realized that from my spot in the chair I didn’t have a real good angle. So I crept up closer to the window, careful to keep my head low, just in case. Pretty soon I was right up against it. I rose up a bit and brought the binoculars to my face. Sure enough, up close, it was obvious.

She was playing with her pussy.

My dick got even harder. It was sticking straight out of my boxers, the erection almost painful. I tried to stuff it back inside but it was no use. So I just let it hang out and focused my attention of her.

And then, just in case there was any doubt, her index and middle fingers slipped underneath her bikini bottoms.

Fuck me.

The binoculars slipped from my hand and fell to the floor. But I didn’t bother searching for them. I could see fine without them, perhaps even better, because I could take her entire body in as she enjoyed herself, from her head thrown back in ecstasy to her toes curled up in pleasure as her fingers went to work beneath her panties. With her free hand she started working one of her tits, groping it, squeezing the nipple, slapping it lightly.

She shoved her panties aside and went to work on herself with more intensity, her fingers moving faster and faster, in and out of her pussy. By now I had given up on my own attempts at austerity and was full-on stroking my cock as I watched her. I was close to the point of finishing but trying to hold off until she was done too. I didn’t want to waste a second of the show.

And then it was time. Her thrusts slowed down considerably and her body stiffened and her fingers stayed deep inside her pussy instead of sliding back out. Even though the window was closed I could hear the sharp gasp from her mouth as her body shuddered once, twice, three times and then fell still.

Knowing now that the show was all but over, I too let myself go, spewing my cum all over the wall beneath the window. I dropped to the floor and took a moment to catch my breath before climbing back to my knees to have a peek.

She had pulled her fingers out of her pussy and replaced her bikini bottom to its rightful place. Her sunglasses were back over her eyes and she was climbing to her feet. I watched as she gathered her things and headed towards the back door of the house.

Was that a smirk I saw on her face? I could have sworn it was. Did she know I was watching. Had she put on that show just for me?

No. It simply wasn’t possible. Was it? Did it even matter? Not really. Either she had known I was watching and obviously didn’t mind, or she didn’t know and what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Either way it didn’t make any difference to me, as long as she didn’t change up her routine.

I leaned back against the wall and wondered how life could get any better.

I was about to find out.


The next day I again rushed home from school, again got all prepared—chair ready, pants off, binoculars in one hand, dick in the other—and again went to the window to watch the show.

She wasn’t there.

Fighting a wave of disappointment, I tried to calm myself down. Just because she wasn’t there didn’t mean she wouldn’t be there at all. Maybe she had some stuff to do and would get her tanning time in later. Or maybe she had just gone inside for a minute to get something to drink, or answer the phone, or use the bathroom. Or maybe—

The doorbell rang.

My body stiffened. Could it be?

Don’t be ridiculous, said the rational voice. It’s probably just UPS dropping off a package.

Of course. That had to be it. UPS came to the door almost every day to drop something off for my mom. She was always buying shit on the internet.

Then the doorbell rang again, and this time it was followed with a knock.

Well, it wasn’t UPS. They would have just rang once then left the package.

Then who was it?

I decided there was only one way to find out. So I put my pants back on and headed downstairs, trying desperately to hold a lid on my excitement.

Another knock as I reached the door. I glanced through the peephole and quickly looked away, as though afraid of getting caught peeking. My breath was caught in my chest and my heart was pounding.

It was the girl next door.

Now that she was here, in the flesh, with nothing but a six-inch wide plank of wood between us, the terror crept in. It was one thing to look at her through a window, watching from the safety of my own home, but it was something completely different to have her standing at my front door, waiting for me to open it.

What now? asked the panicked part of my brain.

Simple, replied the rational part. Open the door.

Then what?

Play it by ear.

But what if she wants to, you know, fuck?

Then that’s great, said the rational me. That is what you want, right? To fuck her?

Yeah, but—

But what?

I don’t know, said the panicked me. It’s just—

Quit your sniveling and answer the door. Chances are she just wants to borrow some eggs or something anyway.

Yeah, you’re probably right.

Of course I am. Now open the door.

So I did. And there she was, standing before me, in the flesh.

She was dressed casually, in a red, unbuttoned collared shirt, little tan shorts and tennis shoes. No bra. Her hair was done up in a ponytail and she had on very little makeup. But it didn’t matter. She still looked great. So great that my dick was hard. I was shocked to realize that I found her even hotter clothed than I had naked. But one thing was different. Whatever familiarity I observed the last couple of days when she out tanning was no longer there. I had absolutely no recollection of her fully clothed.

“Oh, hey,” she said, completely relaxed, totally at ease, as if she was greeting an old friend. “I was starting to think you weren’t here.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I was just . . . busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Cleaning my room,” I said, realizing how ridiculous it sounded as soon as the words came out of my mouth.

But she just smiled and nodded her head as if it made perfect sense.

I just stood there, waiting, oblivious.

Eventually she said, “So, are you going to invite me inside?”

“Um, yeah. Sure,” I said, my heartbeat racing. “Come on in.”

I held the door wide and she walked past me. I glanced outside to check if anyone was on the sidewalk—I didn’t see anyone—then quickly shut the door.

From behind me I heard her say, “You’re a cute little one, aren’t you?”

My mind raced trying to come up with a response but when I turned towards her I realized none was necessary. She wasn’t talking to me. She was talking to the dog, who was busy clamoring for her attention. She squatted and starting petting him.

“What is he, a beagle mix?”


“What’s his name?” she said.


She gave Kirby one last scratch then rose to face me.

“What about you?” she said.

“What about me?”

She smiled as though she was dealing with a 7-year old child. And in a sense, she was. That’s about where my mental faculties were right now. “What’s your name?”

I laughed and shook my head. “Sorry,” I said. “I don’t know where my head is right now. I’m Chris. Chris Newton.”

“Pleased to meet you, Chris. I’m Dakota Rain.” She was looking at me expectantly, as though waiting for something. Recognition, perhaps? Like I was supposed to know who she was.

“So,” I said. “You’re the new neighbor, right?”

“For a little while,” Dakota said. “I’m just house-sitting for my parents. Keeping the cats fed, the plants watered, that sort of thing.”

“Oh yeah? Where did they go?”


“How long are they going to be gone?”

“Until Saturday.”

I nodded my head and tried desperately to maintain my cool. Four more days of this? My excitement was practically overflowing. As was my anxiety level.

Dakota was looking at me, a little smirk played across her face. Whatever she was up to, she was certainly enjoying herself. “So are you going to give me a tour of the house?”

“I guess. If you want one.”

“Sure,” she said. “Let’s go.”

I showed her around the bottom floor; the kitchen, the closet, the guest room, the living room, the dining room. Then we headed upstairs. I pointed out the bathroom, the laundry room, my mom’s room, my mom’s office, and the spare bedroom. Every room in the house. Except one.

“And this must be your room,” she said.

I nodded sheepishly.

“Are you going to show it to me?”

“If you really want to see it,” I said, stalling for time but really doing nothing but delaying the inevitable. I was going to have to eventually show it to her. The real question was why she wanted so badly to see it. I could think of two reasons, depending on what the purpose of her visit was. One good and one bad. But even the good filled me with trepidation.

“If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” I said. I took a deep breath and opened the door and walked in. She was right behind me.

“Here we are,” I said.

The chair was still set up in the corner and on it were the binoculars. But she didn’t mention them. Instead, she walked straight toward the window, flipped the blinds open and looked down at the spot where she’d spent the last two days tanning.

“You’ve got a nice view from up here,” she said. Her voice was flat, giving away nothing.

What kind of game is she playing?

“It’s pretty cool at certain times of the day,” I said, trying to get a feel for where she was heading without giving too much away.

“I bet it is,” Dakota said, turning towards me. She looked at me for a moment, then laughed and shook her head.

“What so funny?”

“Nothing,” she said. “You really don’t know who I am, do you?”

“Should I?”

“Not necessarily. I just thought—” she threw up her hands. “Forget it. I’ll just go.”

“No,” I said a bit more desperately than I intended. “I mean, you don’t have to. I’d like to know what you were thinking.”

Dakota sized me up for a moment. “All right, what the hell. I just figured anyone that would go through the trouble you did to watch me yesterday would have done so because they recognized me, that’s all.”

“So you did know I was watching,” I said.

“Of course I knew,” she said. “Why do you think I put on that little show for you?”

I shrugged. “I guess I wasn’t sure if that was for me or just for the hell of it.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. It was a little of both. But mostly it was for you.”

My dick was getting hard just listening to her talk and I had to shift slightly to take care of it. She glanced down and gave a little smile. I needed to change the subject, and quickly.

“So, that means your little visit here today . . .”

“Was to feel you out more than anything,” she said. “Figure out if what I did yesterday was stupid or not.”

“Did you come to a conclusion?”

“Not yet,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, let’s just say this little visit didn’t go anywhere near the way I planned it to.”

“Why not?”

“Because of you.”

I laughed self-consciously. “What do you mean?”

“You’re just not what I expected, that’s all.”

“In a good way or a bad way?”

“That remains to be seen,” Dakota said. She took another step towards me, so that we were within reaching distance of each other. It was all I could do to not take a step back.

“I’ll tell you what, Mr. Chris Newton. You take a little time, do a little research on the internet, and figure out who I am. Then, if you feel comfortable enough with it, come on over later today and we can hang out for a while. I’ve got a few days to kill and I wouldn’t mind killing them with someone else. And if not, that’s okay too. I’m sure I can find someone in this town who wouldn’t mind hanging out with me.”

She walked up to me and past me and out the door of my room. I turned to watch her go, my eyes locked on her tight, tiny ass, which was framed perfectly by the little shorts she had on.

“Don’t worry,” she said over her shoulder as she headed down the hall. “I’ll show myself out.”

I started booting up my computer before she’d even made it all the way down the stairs and was online before she’d had a chance to close the door behind her.

Just as the door closed I brought up Google, clicked images, and typed in Dakota Rain.

Half a second to load and then the pictures came up.

“Holy shit,” I said aloud.

I was hoping for a glimpse of who she might be but I got much more than that. I had hit the jackpot.

There were thousands of pictures of her. As well there should be. After all, I was looking on the internet. And what’s by far the most popular worldwide use for the internet? That’s right. Porn.

Dakota Rain was a pornstar.

Needless to say I came to a decision pretty quickly.


Forty-five minutes later I was going in through Dakota’s back door. Well, actually, I was going through the back door of the neighbors house to see her. (Going in through her backdoor would come later. Hopefully.)

Anyways, after perusing through her pictures and watching some video footage of her in action (I just couldn’t help myself) I jumped into the shower and put on some clean clothes. I debated how to approach her house and decided to leave by my back door and go to her back door. Perhaps I was being paranoid, but I figured there was no reason to allow one of the other neighbors to see me on her front porch.

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and glanced inside. I could see the back of her head. She was sitting on the couch, watching television. Pushing all my doubts aside, I rapped on the sliding glass door. She glanced back, saw me, stood up, and walked back to let me in. Her smile said that she had been expecting me.

“That didn’t take very long,” Dakota said as she opened the sliding glass door.

“It’s not like it was a real tough decision,” I said as I stepped into the house. She closed and locked the door behind me, then pulled the blinds across, blocking the view from outside.

“For some people it would be,” she said. “You know, morals and all that bullshit.”

“Yeah, well sometimes you just have to say: ‘what the fuck.’”

Dakota laughed. “I see that you’ve loosened up a bit since our last meeting.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” I said. “You caught me a little off-guard earlier.”

“Not a problem,” she said. “In fact, that was kind of the idea. No better way to get a feel for someone than to hit them when they’re least expecting it.”

“Well you certainly did that.”

She smiled and took my hand and started leading me towards the stairs. My heart started pounding and my throat went suddenly dry and my breath caught in my chest. Whatever fake confidence I had been able to muster on my way over here was quickly disappearing. This was no longer just something I’d played through my head. It was actually happening. I tried not to think about it and just enjoy the moment.

“Although I must admit, I wasn’t sure if you were going to come over,” she said, looking back at me over her left shoulder.


She nodded. “Which is strange, because it’s usually pretty obvious. One way or the other, I can generally tell right away what the choice is going to be. But with you, I wasn’t sure.”

We were now at the stairs. Still holding my hand, she led me up them. I was finally finding it easier to breathe but my heart was still hammering away. My dick was already rock hard from just looking and listening to her talk, let alone anticipating what was coming next.

“Is that a good thing?” I said.

“It’s a very good thing,” she said, flashing me a smile. “Uncertainty is what gets me up in the morning.”

“Then I hope I can keep surprising you.”

She smiled. “Oh, something tells me that won’t be a problem.”

We had reached the top of the stairs. But still she led me on. Down the hall, past a couple of doors, and into an open room. A giant flatscreen TV was on the wall. A killer stereo system beneath it. A wet bar in the corner. A couch, a couple of loveseats, a recliner. I took it all in with a single glance, as if I was looking at a catalog. I think it was just my mind trying to make sense out of an unfamiliar situation by grasping onto the familiar.

We stopped in front of the couch. She turned and grabbed my other hand and we stood there, face-to-face, looking at each other. She was a few inches shorter than me but her presence was so overwhelming that it felt like she was towering over me. There was no doubt who was in control of the situation.

“This is your final chance to back out,” Dakota said. “Once we get started there’s no turning back.”

“I’m all in,” I said.

She tilted her head slightly, raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”


“Then just sit down and relax and let me do what I do best,” Dakota said.

She gave me a little push and I dropped down onto the couch. She pushed my knees apart and stepped in between them. Then she turned around so her back was to me and started to tease her shorts off, going slowly, revealing her perfect ass inch by inch. Once her ass was clear, she bent over at the waist, keeping her legs perfectly straight, and slid her shorts the rest of the way off then stepping out of them, leaving only her little black panties on her bottom half. She rose back up slowly, taunting me with the inner workings of her leg muscles. Once fully upright again, she peeked over her shoulder and flashed a nasty little smile.

“You like what you see so far?” she said, clearly playing with me and clearly enjoying it.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

She laughed and stepped back towards me, then dropped her ass onto my lap and began to gently rub it on my rock-hard cock, which was trapped beneath my jeans and pushing up painfully.

I stifled a groan and forced myself to calm down. The last thing I wanted to do was cream my pants before we’d even got started. That wouldn’t do. Not at all.

Dakota seemed to sense how close I was already and relaxed on the pressure a bit. I put my hands up her waist but she pushed them away.

“Hands to yourself,” she said. “For now, at least.”

I dropped my hands to the side and took a deep breath. Dakota slid off my waist and down to the floor. Then she turned around and ran her hands up my legs and leaned forward and started to lick my cock through my jeans. Her right hand joined the party and started rubbing my balls through the material.

This time I couldn’t stifle my groan. It came low, almost pleading, causing her smile to grow even wider.

“You like that too, huh?” she said.

“Yeah,” I managed to croak out.

She lifted her arms over her head and slipped out of her shirt. She grabbed one of her tits and played with it for a bit, squeezing the nipple and giving it a playful little slap. “What about these? You like these too?”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice cracking slightly.

“You want to suck on them?”

I went back to nodding.

She laughed and climbed up onto my waist, straddling me. She leaned forward and stuck her tits in my face, bounced them around my head a couple times, then guided one of her nipples into my mouth. I sucked at it like a baby at breast.

“That’s right,” Dakota said. “Just like that.” She put her hands on the back of my head and pushed it further into her chest. Then she started to grind on my cock.

I switched breasts and went to work on her other nipple, working it more aggressively to hopefully counteract the effects of her grinding. But it didn’t work. The harder I went at her tit the harder she grinded on me.

She pulled her tit out of my mouth and leaned in and kissed me, aggressively driving her tongue down into my mouth. Then she wrapped her arms around my neck and threw her head back and started to grind even harder.

I started breathing more heavily, trying to keep myself in check. But I needed something to do. So I grabbed her tits and gave them a squeeze. This time she didn’t say anything about keeping my hands to myself so I stayed at it, massaging them and fondling them and playing with her hard nipples. Her tits took my mind of the quickening of my impending orgasm but not for long. I was ratcheting ever closer to cumming and there was nothing I could do about it.

And then Dakota was sliding down between my legs again, smiling wryly as she slowly undid my button fly jeans, freeing my cock from the denim prison where it had been trapped. It was standing at attention, as hard as it’s ever been. Even though we’d hardly even done anything yet, I was right at the point of exploding.

She gripped the base of my cock in her hand and ran up tongue up the underside of it, from the base to the tip. Then, with her eyes firmly locked onto mine, she wrapped her lips around the head of my cock. I let out a soft moan and it was all I could do to keep from cumming. She sucked on the head of my cock while caressing my shaft with her hand, taking things slow and gentle, presumably to make me last longer. But it didn’t matter. I was way too worked up already. My body was tense and inarticulate sounds were unconsciously coming from my mouth. Another ten seconds of this and I’d be done for sure.

She seemed to sense that I was on the verge. But instead of letting up to give me a chance to recover, she increased the pressure, her hand jerking me off with more force and her mouth going further down my cock.

I tried desperately to hold back; I didn’t want things to end too soon. But she was having no part of it, increasing the speed and intensity even further.

I had no chance. My body tensed up and I sucked air in through my gritted teeth.

Dakota pulled my cock out of her mouth but was still jerking me off as my body released with a series of bucking spasms, sending streams of white cum up into her chest, the hollow of her neck, the bottom of her chin. She teased every last bit of cum from my cock then licked the tip, eliciting one last shudder out of me.

I was flooded with embarrassment. Here I was, with the opportunity of a lifetime, and I could barely even handle a couple minutes of a lap dance and a few seconds of a blowjob before shooting my load. What a tool.

“Sorry,” I said, followed by a depreciating half-chuckle.

“For what?” she said, sounding genuinely concerned.

“For . . . you know . . . finishing up so quickly.”

“Don’t sweat it,” she said.

“You mean you’re not pissed?”

“What for?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just thought . . . I mean, I should have done better.” I know it sounded lame but that’s how I felt.

“You did fine,” she said. “Better than most, actually.”

“Yeah right,” I said.

“I’m serious,” Dakota said. “Most men in your situation are done before I even have a chance to unzip their fly. I tend to have that effect on men. It’s not a big deal. Really.”

“But I didn’t even have a chance to . . .” I trailed off, unable to spit it out. But she knew what I was thinking.

“To fuck me?” Dakota said.

I nodded.

“Don’t worry, you’ll have your chance pretty soon.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is just the beginning,” she said. “Now that round one is out of the way, we can have some real fun.”

“You did that on purpose?”

“Of course,” Dakota said with a smile. She climbed to her feet and grabbed my hand. “So, are you ready for round two?”

“Not yet,” I said as I stumbled clumsily to my feet. My head was still spinning and I had a goofy smile on my face. This was shaping up to be even better than I had imagined. “But I will be soon.”

“Then let’s get started.”


The second session started in the shower. We took a couple minutes to clean up and then were at it again. It started with making out and rubbing up against each other, the hot water pounding on us acting as a natural lubricant, adding a slippery new sensation to an already incredible feeling.

The making out evolved into touching, then groping, then heavy petting, Dakota jerking my once-again hard cock while my hand ventured down to her vagina and started rubbing her clit, our lips still locked together all the while.

She dropped to her knees and took my cock in her mouth. With her hands gripping my ass and the water from the shower hitting the top of her head, she slowly worked my cock using just her mouth, maintaining eye contact the whole time, while I used the walls of the shower to balance myself.

After blowing me for a couple minutes, Dakota stood up and turned off the water. We quickly dried off and then starting going at it again, Dakota took charge—a common theme on this day—backing me up towards the adjacent bedroom while we made out.

When we came to the bed and fell on top of it together. Before I could even get comfortable, she was pushing my back to the bed and climbing on top of me, her legs astride my waist, her hand around my cock and guiding it into her dripping wet snatch. So much for taking it slow this time around.

Dakota shifted her legs so she was squatting over me, her feet on the bed. She put her hands on my chest for leverage and slowly worked my cock into her pussy, expertly moving her body so that every time she dropped down on my cock it went a little bit deeper inside her. It wasn’t long before my cock had completely disappeared every time she got the bottom. She started to increase the intensity of her gyrations until she was slamming her ass down harder into me.

My breath was coming faster now, as was hers, along with a mutual soft little moan that arrived as our bodies came together. Even though her hair was flying all over the place, I could see that she was looking right at me, her eyes boring into mine. For some reason the intensity of her gaze excited me even further, nearly to the point of finishing.

Seeming to sense my heightened state, Dakota suddenly stopped bouncing on my cock. She shifted her legs so her knees were on the bed, her body sitting atop of mine. She leaned forward and put her hands alongside my head and stuck her tongue into my mouth. With my cock still in her warm, wet pussy, we made out, giving me a chance to calm myself down.

After making out for a little while, Dakota pulled her tongue out of my mouth, sat back and went back to work. With my hands on her waist for support, she worked her pussy forward and back, shifting the angle of my cock, then switched it up and started moving in a circular manner, staring down at me the whole time, her face a mask of concentration.

She leaned back and started bouncing on my cock, slowly at first, but gradually picking up steam, expertly working it from tip to base every time.

“You like that?” she said. “You like it when I bounce on your cock?”

Unable to reply, I just nodded.

Dakota smiled. “Yeah, I’m sure you do.” She reached down and grabbed my wrists, pulled my hands from her waist, and brought them up to her chest and placed them on her tits.

“That’s better,” she said, as she continued impaling herself on my cock, slamming down on me with more force. She arched her back and ran her hands through her hair and turned her face up towards the ceiling.

Her moans were growing more intense with every thrust and were now starting to take on a guttural quality. I could hear similar sounds coming from my mouth. Both our bodies were sweating and the room smelled of sex.

I could feel myself growing towards orgasm again and squeezed her tits, hoping that by focusing more attention on her I would be able to last a little longer. But it didn’t work. The harder I squeezed her tits the harder she bounced on my cock, which just brought me closer to orgasm even faster. Not much longer now.

She tossed her head to the side, flinging her hair back behind her head. Staring down at me, her bottom lip tucked in between her teeth, she continued dropping her ass into my hips, harder and harder. I started to raise my hips at the last second, just before our bodies slammed together, increasing the depth of penetration with every thrust.

“That’s right,” she said, riding me like a cowgirl. “Give it to me, baby. Give it to me. Right there. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me— ”

Her talking finally put me over the edge. I interrupted one of her many calls to fuck her with some words of my own. “Shit, shit, shit,” I said through clenched teeth. “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fucking cum.”

“Yeah?” she said.

“Yeah. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

She bounced on my cock a couple more times then climbed off me right as I started to orgasm, my cum shooting straight up, landing on my stomach, on the bed next to me, pretty much getting everywhere. Dakota jerked me to completion, squeezing every last drop from cock before finally releasing her hold and dropping down on the bed to lie beside me.

We were both lying on her backs, catching our respective breaths. Me more than her, there was no doubt about that, but she certainly seemed put out by the previous session, at least a little.

“So, Mr. Chris Newton, are you enjoying yourself so far?” Dakota said.

I looked down at my hands and said, “Yeah.” The directness of the question caused all sorts of discomfort.

“What’s the matter now?” she said playfully.

Shrugging, I said, “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Just say it,” she said. “You don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings.”

“It’s nothing like that,” I said. “It’s just—” I shook my head and trailed off.

“There’s no reason to be shy,” she said, turning over on her side so she was facing me. “Not after what we just did.”

I shifted on my side until we were facing each other. I took her in, from her silky brown hair to her big brown eyes to her petite little nose to her full lips to her thin neck to her perfect breasts. I could barely get my head around the fact that here I was, lying in bed with a pornstar, having just fucked her for the second time today, with the potential of still more sessions to come. Which was at the crux of the problem, really. Not that she was a pornstar, not exactly, although it was related to that—

I decided that thinking about it wasn’t going to get me anywhere so I might as well just tell her. But she beat me to it.

“It’s because I’m a pornstar, isn’t it?” Dakota said.

“Sort of,” I said. “But not really. I mean, it’s related to that, but not how you think.”

She gave a funny look.

Fuck it. Just let it out.

“I feel bad, that’s all.”

“You feel bad?” she said with a half-chuckle. “What does that mean?”

“It’s just . . . I feel bad because I can’t give you what you normally get,” I said.

“Ahhh,” she said. “I think I see what you’re getting at. You feel bad because you can’t give it to me like you see me getting it onscreen, right? You can’t pound the shit out of me for hours at a time with a huge cock in a bunch of different positions without blowing your load. Does that about sum it up?”

I nodded, more embarrassed than ever.

But Dakota just laughed. “Oh, Chris, you poor dumb kid,” she said. “Just because that’s how I get it onscreen doesn’t mean that’s how I like it.”

“It’s not?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “There are times when I just need to get the shit fucked out of me, but even then it’s nothing like what you see in the movies. That’s all scripted, a formula, featuring uncomfortable positions that aren’t really all that great for having sex but look good on camera. And guys that are usually far more into the paycheck than the actual sex. It takes hours to do a single scene, you’ve got a director stopping you every couple of minutes for direction, there are at least ten people on set the whole time, you’ve got a cameraman constantly getting in the way . . .”

Dakota shook her head, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “What I do on screen is just fucking for money, nothing more,” she said, her eyes locked on mine. “But this? What we’re doing? This is for fun. So stop taking it so seriously and just have some fun with it, okay?”



Smiling now, feeling much better about myself, I said, “I promise.”

“Good,” she said. “Then let’s get you started on some more advanced techniques.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Let’s hope not,” she said. “You can’t fuck with your ears. But fingers . . . now that’s a different story. You want a surefire way to make sure the girl is always happy?”

“There is one?”

“There sure is,” Dakota said. “And it’s the easiest thing in the world,” She held up her hand. The index and middle fingers were sticking out. “Behold the magic fingers. Learn how to use them properly and it doesn’t matter how long you last inside a girl. 5 minutes, 2 minutes, 30 seconds, it doesn’t make any difference. Spend enough time with your fingers inside her before fucking her proper and she’ll come away a happy girl. Guaranteed.”

“No shit?”

“No shit. Even the most jaded pornstar is a sucker for getting finger fucked. If done properly, of course.”

“Can you teach me how to do it properly?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Dakota said with a smile.


“So where do I begin?” I asked.

“Just start fiddling around down there,” she said. “You’ll be able to tell pretty easily if you’re in a good spot. Just pay attention audio clues. The girl will tell you everything you need to know by how her body reacts.”

“All right,” I said dubiously as I slid my hand down towards her snatch and started rubbing her pussy. I wasn’t real sure what I supposed to be doing but figured she’d tell me if I was doing something wrong.

But so far that didn’t seem to be the case, and if the wetness of her pussy was any indication, she seemed to be enjoying it.

“Don’t be shy,” she said. “Just go to town down there. You aren’t going to break anything.”

So I did, increasing the speed and pressure of my rubbing, moving up and down her pussy lips, sliding fingers inside her, then back out, adjusting the positioning of my fingers based on the feedback I received. Sometimes the feedback was implied by the intensity of her moans and sometimes it was explicit, like when she told me, “A little bit higher. Right there. Right fucking there.”

So I hit the spot, right at the top of her pussy, digging just underneath her lips, rubbing with the tips of my fingers while she bucked up against them. Her breathing intensified. I shifted my arm, giving me a better angle, then rubbed more aggressively, causing her to buck even harder.

“That’s right,” Dakota said in between gasping breaths. “Give it to me. Right there. Rub that clit. Rub that fucking clit.”

And so rub that clit I did, giving it everything I had. She leaned towards me and threw her mouth up against mine and kissed me violently, her tongue flicking around my mouth, her moans coming faster and faster.

She pulled her mouth from mind and her hands went to the back of my head and grabbed a handful of my hair and pressed my forehead up against hers.

“Stick your fingers inside my pussy,” she said. “I want you to finger fuck me.”

I obeyed again, sliding my fingers down the length of her pussy and sticking them inside. She was soaking wet; my fingers slid inside her without a hint of resistance. I moved them in and out of her, from the tips of my fingers to the middle knuckles, moving slowly, afraid of going to far or too fast.

A needless concern, as it turned out.

“Deeper,” Dakota said. “Force them in there. As deep as they’ll go.”

I obliged, shoving my hand as deep as I could.

“That’s better,” she said. “Now fuck me with those fingers.”

I started moving my hand in and out, my fingers moving inside her, slowly at first, building up a rhythm, increasing the speed in time with her increased breathing rate. Pretty soon she was moving against them, riding them as they slid inside her, her hips bucking hard enough to force me to rise to my knees to ease the pressure on my wrist.

I was still alongside Dakota but now up above her a bit, my body positioned about where her hips were. Her legs were spread wide and her hands were on her tits, groping and squeezing them and even getting in the occasional slap.

On a whim, I slipped a third finger inside her, eliciting a sharp gasp from her but no protestations. In fact she started bucking harder and moaning along with her labored breaths as I slammed my fingers into her pussy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she said, practically screaming now. “Give it to me. Just like that. Right there, right there, right there! Yes. Yes! YES!”

I realized that I was rock hard again and wasn’t sure if it was from the way Dakota was talking or a reaction to her getting off or from being in control of the situation. Probably all three.

And then Dakota was grabbing at my arm and pulling my hand from her pussy and sticking my fingers in her mouth, sucking her juices from them.

“I need you inside me,” she said, shifting her body so we were lying side by side in the spoon position. “Stick that fucking cock inside my pussy.”

She released my arm and reached around and grabbed a hold of my rock-hard cock and guided it into her pussy. Just like my fingers had, it slid in without resistance, like she was some exquisite oil, all warm and silky smooth.

Finger-fucking her had gotten me more excited than I’d thought possible, so much so that I was practically ready to cum the moment I slipped inside her. So I didn’t even bother taking it slow; there wasn’t enough time.

I slammed my cock up into her, going balls deep right from the beginning, then pulled back and gave it to her again, her ass pushing up against my hips with every thrust.

“That’s right, baby,” she said, bucking up against me just as hard I was against her. “Give it to me. Fuck me hard. Give me what I fucking need.”

Again and again I slammed into her, fucking her as hard as I could while I still had something left.

“That’s it,” she said, her voice rising with every thrust and my thrusts increasing intensity with every word from her mouth. “Take it. Fuck me like you mean it. Own that pussy. Own it. Harder. Harder. Harder!”

Her dirty talk took me over the edge. I slammed into her a couple more times, then pulled my cock out of her pussy and came all over her ass. It was yet another huge load, my third one of the day, something I’d never even come close to doing before.

Dakota laughed and rubbed my cum into her skin as I fell back into the bed and tried to catch my breath.

“Not bad,” she said. “Not too bad at all.”

“You’re just saying that to be nice.”

“No I’m not,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re no champion lover yet, but you’ll get there. Practice makes perfect, you know. Or like they used to say in the old days: ‘keep sticking it to me kid, and you’ll go far.’ Or something like that.”

I laughed, then decided to press my luck. “So does that mean that this isn’t just a one time thing?”

“Not unless you want it to be.”

“Not at all,” I said, perhaps too quickly. Not that I cared all that much.

Dakota turned on her side to face me. “I figure you can come over whenever you want until I head out,” she said. “If that sounds all right with you.”

“It sounds more than all right,” I said. “It sounds like heaven.” I couldn’t believe I’d actually said it out loud, but what can you do? After what we’d done already that day I was surprised I could still talk, let alone think.

“Ahh, aren’t you sweet,” Dakota said. She planted a quick kiss on my lips. “And you’re turning out to be quite the stud too.”

I smiled and dropped my head, embarrassed.

“Three times in a one hour, that’s pretty impressive. There’s some hope for you after all.”

“I have a good teacher,” I said.

“Not a good teacher,” she said. “A great one.”

I laughed. “I know I probably shouldn’t ask this,” I said. “But I have to know.”

“You have to know what?”

“Why you’re doing this?”

“Doing what?” Dakota said, her little smile telling me she knew exactly what I was talking about but making me say it nonetheless. She was shaping up to be diabolical in that way.

“This,” I said.


I gave her the evil eye. “You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you?”

She raised her eyebrow playfully and nodded.


“Because I like to see you squirm,” she said.

I sighed and did indeed squirm a bit. It was funny how much more difficult it was to say the words than to do the deed.

“Come on,” Dakota said, her smile growing wider. “Don’t get all serious on me again. Just spit it out.”

I laughed and once again asked myself how I could be embarrassed about saying a couple of words after what we’d done together over the last hour. There was no reason to be, so I just did as she said and spit it out without worrying about it.

“Why are letting me fuck you?” I said.

“I told you before,” she said. “I like to get fucked.”

“I know, but . . .”

“Why you?”

I nodded. “I mean, besides the fact that I just happened to live next door. Or is that all there is to it?”

“Nah, it’s more than that,” Dakota said. “Granted, that was the first step, but I don’t just let anyone fuck me. I have some standards.”

“Like what?”

“Well, they have to be cute, for one. Which you are. And they have at least a decent sized cock. Which you do. Those are the two main ones. But those two will only get you laid once. Anything more than that and you have to bring something more to the table.”

“So I take it I bring something more?”

“You certainly do.”


“Well, you’re very eager. Granted, too eager sometimes, but that’s all right, because you make up for it with your stamina.”

I could feel myself blushing and looked down at the ground. I had never taken compliments well.

“Plus you’re very attentive,” she said. “And you take direction well. You don’t know how nice it is to be in charge of the situation for once. I’m used to having the whole thing planned out ahead of time, with the director constantly telling me what to do, how to do it, what look to have on my face, what to say, what position to fuck in next. With you it’s spontaneous. Which is nice. Although I do tell you what to do quite a bit, don’t I?”

“Yeah,” I said. “But that’s all right. I like it.”

“I know you do,” she said. “But pretty soon we’ll have to mix it up a bit. Let you take charge. If only for the experience. Girls love that, you know. When a man takes charge, tells them exactly what they’re going to do.”


“Hell yeah. Not all the time, mind you. But it’s a nice change, to let someone else take charge every once in a while. You like it, right?”

I nodded.

“So what makes you think we don’t too?”

“I don’t know,” I said with a shrug. “I guess I never really thought about it.”

“Well now you know.”

“I certainly do.”

“But you know what I like about you most of all?” she said.


“You worship the ground I walk on.”

“Come on, don’t give me that shit,” I said. “You must have thousands of guys that do that. And thousands more that would if they could.”

“Did I mention your naïveté?” she said.

“What? You don’t?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “The fans, they’re pretty cool. Creepy as hell most of the time, but cool. They definitely worship me. But they worship anyone who will get naked and nasty on screen. It’s not me they worship, it’s their idea of me. Their idolized version of me. They don’t worship the real me. Not like you do. But in the industry I’m nothing more than a piece of meat. Tits and ass and three holes that are nothing but dollar signs.”

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