Between the Lines 07 (Futa on Male)

Ben's eyes became wide in terror as the corridor's clearly audible footfall and muffled voices got louder. Their bodies still linked in the most intimate manner as the prospect of discovery crept ever closer, he stayed paralyzed, impaled on Ava's absolutely huge member. Sweat beaded over his forehead, not from pleasure but from the growing tide of total horror; his heart thumped against his ribs like a caught animal.

"Ava," he said in a thin, anxious whisper. "Your parents are on their way!"

Ava's half-closed in ecstasy eyes opened completely just minutes earlier. Her dreamy look changed to one of panic as the truth of their circumstances sank in her. She turned to look down the corridor, then back to Ben, still firmly sitting on her cock.

He snarled, his palms pressed on her shoulders, "Please. Not like this, we can't."

She seemed disappointed, then her gaze strayed to the corridor where the sounds got louder. She moaned; her breath warmed his neck.

"Fine," she said, clearly annoyed in her whisper. "Get off quickly."

Ben nodded wildly, rising himself with quivering thighs. Rising, he felt her thick shaft slowly, tortuously slip from his body. Under any conditions, the experience would have been great; however, anxiety had sapped his enjoyment and replaced it with a pressing need to escape shame.

A warm torrent of her juices poured down his inner thighs as her tip at last slid out of him. The evidence of their passion dripped obscenely from his stretched opening--thick, warm, and copious. As the sticky fluid ran down his legs in rivulets, Ben felt a blush of shame mixed with the residual pleasure leaving cooling tracks on his skin.

"Oh god," he said, casting about frantically for something to wipe himself with.

Ava was already moving, pulling her sweater back over her head with rapid but awkward gestures. Her still-erect penis bounced fiercely between her thighs, glittering with the traces of their contact.

"Here," she whispered, thrusting his boxers at him. "Stow them on. Hurried!

Now the voices were clearer: a man's deeper tone reacting, a lady asking something about supper. Ben stepped on one foot then the other, almost losing his balance as he tugged the cloth up over his sweaty thighs. He fumbled with his underpants. He winced as part of the moisture still seeping from him absorbed by the cotton.

Ava's gaze strayed over the room until they landed on the big throw blanket covering the couch's back. "Get down," she said, one hand grasping the blanket while guiding Ben to the floor with the other.

Ben lowered to his knees; his muscles still trembled from their recent strain. Ava settled on the couch fast, sitting primally with her legs somewhat apart. She laid the blanket on her lap and tent-like stretched it to the floor.

She ordered, lowering the blanket's edge, "Under."

Ben didn't need to be told twice. Finding himself in the warm, dim nook between Ava's legs, he crawled beneath the cloth. The scent of their lovemaking was concentrated here--musky, salty, with the distinct tang of sex that seemed to cling to the air around them. As he felt the moisture seeping through his underwear, the floor under his knees was somewhat damp in certain areas, proof of their passion now posing a fresh struggle.

Ava adjusted the blanket over him, but Ben saw the problem right away. Far from fading, her erection was clearly leaving an obvious tent in the fabric, a memorial to their interrupted enjoyment that would be difficult to justify.

She said, "Ben," desperately, "my dick isn't going down. You need to help me hold it!"

Turning in the little area, he faced her now and reached up to shove her heavy member down against her thigh. He could feel the heat emanating from her sweatshirt, the constant hardness serving as a reminder of their unresolved business even through the cloth. His face was uncomfortably close to the source of his recent pleasure, and despite the danger, he felt a traitorous twitch of interest in his own groin.

The feet halted just outside the room. Ben inhaled, then tightened his grip on Ava's erection, felt it pulse against his palm. His knees hurt where they brushed against the moist carpet, and with their combined breaths the air under the blanket was getting heated and stagnant.

"Ava, honey?" Are you feeling any different now? Ava's mother's voice entered the room before her footsteps did.

Ben felt Ava move over him, repositioning herself to hide him more effectively. Her thighs locked on each side of his shoulders.

"Yeah, Mom, I'm fine," Ava said, her voice remarkably laid-back in spite of things. "Just watching some TV."

"You still look flushed. Do you have a fever? To Ben, her mother seemed to be standing only few feet from the couch.

He stayed very motionless, scarcely daring to breathe. Despite the dangerous circumstances, his right hand kept constant pressure on Ava's erection, showing no indication of faltering. His face only inches from it, the musky aroma was overpowering--a strong reminder of where it had been just minutes earlier.

Ava remarked, "I'm just warm under this blanket," and Ben could hear the little breathlessness in her voice. "The chills from earlier are gone."

Her mother exclaimed abruptly, "What's that smell?" and Ben felt his heart stop. "It's... strange in here."

Above him, Ava fidgeted. "Oh, I, uh, spilled some of that protein shake earlier. The one with the whey protein? Once it dries, it smells strange."

Ben bit his lip to refrain from making a sound, partially from fear and partly to stifle an improper impulse to chuckle at Ava's fast thinking. Given what was still drying on the carpet between his knees, the "protein shake" theory seemed very accurate.

Her mother remarked, seeming doubtful, " Hmm. Well, open a window when you're feeling less... chilly. By the way, Maria called the house phone earlier. Said she couldn't reach your cell."

The name lingered there like an unannounced thunderclap. Ben's fingers briefly relaxed its hold on Ava's erection as his body stiffened automatically. Maria; An ex-girlfriend. The bit of knowledge crept into Ben's awareness, gently but significantly reordering his perspective of Ava.

"Oh," Ava remarked above him, her voice precisely neutral. "Did she say what she wanted?"

"Just to check in, I suppose. You two haven't talked in a while; have you?"

Ben felt the virtually invisible contraction of Ava's thigh muscles. Under cover, his head whirled with questions. An ex-girlfriend implied Ava had dated a woman previously. Ben found himself wondering about the nature of that connection given Ava's particular anatomy. Had Maria known of Ava's penis? Had they been intimate in the same manner he and Ava just were?

"Not since we broke up," Ava said nonchalantly. "It has been like six months."

She seems pleasant, her mother said. Highly motivated. like you.

Ben had an unusual burning in his chest, a painful heat he knew to be envy. The feeling stunned him; he had no claim on Ava, after all. Their relationship, if one could call it that, was mostly of increasingly risky sexual encounters. They had only known each other for a brief period. Still, learning about her ex-girlfriend sharpened his awareness of his ignorance about Ava's life.

"She was okay," Ava shrugged, Ben sensing the weight of her thighs on his shoulders. "We basically wanted different things."

"Are you sure you're feeling OK? You're sweating," her mother persisted.

"I'm fine, Mom, really. Just a little warm."

"Well, I'll let you relax then. Dad is preparing chicken for dinner if you feel comfortable joining us." "Sounds great," Ava said, her voice strained as Ben moved slightly under the cover and unintentionally brushed her sensitive tip.

"Don't stay wrapped up too long if you're overheating. And please do something about that smell." Her mother mentioned on her way out of the room.

Ava vowed, "I will."

Ben maintained his position and listened closely as the footsteps receded and then vanished down the hall. He exhaled the air he had been holding only when he heard a door close by. Under his hand, Ava's erection pulsed fiercely, apparently unmoved by the tension of their near-discovery.

"Maria?" he said, the word leaving his mouth before he could decide if this was the right moment to inquire.

Above him, Ava let a sigh. "Not now, Ben," she said, her voice exhausted but yet heavy with unmet need. "We almost got caught with your ass full of my cum. Deal with one situation at a time, please."

Though she couldn't see him, Ben nodded. She was correct, naturally. Yet half-dressed, yet encircled by the proof of their passion, they were still under risk of discovery. But the name Maria now stuck in his head like a splinter--small but difficult to overlook, a reminder that Ava Green still had plenty about her that eluded him.

Ben stayed bent in the dark cave of the blanket, his pulse still beating as Ava's mother's footsteps vanished down the corridor. "Maria" kept coming back to him like a harsh note in otherwise harmonic melody. Six months. Ava had dated a woman named Maria for who knew how long, and they'd broken up six months ago. The knowledge lingered uneasily in his chest, an unidentified weight dragging at him even as his body stayed sharply conscious of Ava's proximity, aroma, and clear proof of her want still pressing against his hand.

"Is she gone?" he said, his voice almost detectable even in the small space of their hide-out.

"Yeah," Ava said, speaking softly. "But they're still in the house."

Ben nodded, but she could not see him. His head was elsewhere, flying over questions he hadn't thought about before. A former lover. Ava dated women--at least one woman. To her, what did it make him? Was he just a curious deviation from her usual preferences? An experiment with a different anatomy?

His fingers still remained on her erection under the cover; the heat of it pulsed across his skin. Though he was now emotionally conflicted, his body reacted to that touch, to the recollection of how she had felt inside him just a few minutes earlier. His own desire started once again, distorted by his fresh anxiety.

"You alright down there?" Concerned, Ava questioned in a whisper.

"Yeah," he lied, swallowing against his parched throat. "Just... Maria?"

There was a stop, the sort that stretches to occupy all the space at hand. Ben sensed a little contraction in Ava's thighs.

She mumbled, "Not exactly the time to discuss my dating history," and shifted her weight on the couch. "But yes, Maria. She was my girlfriend for about a year."

One year. Ben sunk the knowledge like a stone in water. A year was serious. A year meant shared holidays, family meetings, and daily routines developed together. One year was not laid back. Maria would have known about Ava's cock? Had their interactions been intimate? The questions spun in his head, producing an odd mix of anxiety and envy.

"Did she...?" he said, then paused not knowing how to express it.

"Yes, she knew about my dick," Ava said, a trace of protective edge in her tone. The unfinished question was answered. "And indeed, we had sex. Would you kindly not do this right now?"

Ben nodded again, pointlessly. He was suddenly, very conscious of the ridiculousness of their circumstances--him still half-dressed, squatting under a blanket between her legs, talking about her ex-girlfriend as her parents walked about the house elsewhere. Still, the circumstances itself contributed to his problems.

Their interactions had been public, hurried, and sporadic. T he storage room. The women's locker room. Now in the living room of her parents. Was that what this was to her? The excitement associated with the forbidden? Was he simply a fascinating method to kill time until someone better suited--someone like Maria--came along?

He peered up, but all he could see was the blanket's underbelly and Ava's barely perceptible body silhouette. Her erection hadn't stopped; she was still straining fiercely against his hand. Her bodily desire was clear-cut, whatever her emotional commitment might be.

And was his not the same? His body reacted to her proximity, to the musky aroma of their halted passion still hanging in the air beneath the cover, despite the questions whirling in his head. His heart accelerated as he felt the soft flesh of her thighs on each side of him, the feminine curves so sharply different from the masculine appendage he was now holding.

The truth was, Ava was leagues beyond anyone he'd ever been with before. She was gorgeous, confident, aspirational--everything he loved but battled to embody himself. The miracle wasn't that she might eventually move on; the miracle was that she'd shown interest in him at all.

His chest warmed, an unpleasant heat he identified as not just envy now but also determination. If this was temporary--this strange, intense connection they shared--then he would make it memorable. He would make sure she would remember him when she did finally move on to someone more appropriate, more like Maria.

Ben moved his hand with fresh determination, not just stopping her erection but also purposefully curling his fingers around it. As he gently stroked upward, he felt the silky skin glide under his hand and heard the sharp inhale above him.

"Ben," she said, astonishment clearly in her voice. "What are you--" said

He muttered, "Shhh," keeping his hand moving slowly and methodically. "Your parents might hear."

Under his fingertips, he felt a quiver; her body reacted to his touch and maybe to the threat their circumstances still provided. Driven, he leaned closer in the little space, his face now inches from her massive prick. Her unusual aroma was stronger here--a complex blend of feminine sweetness and masculine musk he found strangely intoxicating.

"We shouldn't, right??" Ava whispered, but her hand slipped under the blanket to rest on his head, her fingers threading through his hair in contradiction to her words.

Ben didn't reply orally. Rather, he pointed his tongue slowly and deliberately from base to tip along her shaft's underside. The taste was salt and flesh, and the residual traces of their last union. He heard the lightest gasp from over the blanket and sensed even another tremor pass through her.

Her thighs, smooth and feminine, pressed against his shoulders as she shifted position, subtly opening herself more to his attention. He found great fascination in the contrast--the unquestionably feminine contours of her body matched with this equally certain masculine appendage. From the minute he discovered her secret, he had been enthralled with a paradox that no one else he had been with had possessed.

Ben felt his fresh resolve pulsing through him like an electric current. The revelation about Maria had sparked something primal--a desire not just to please Ava, but to imprint himself in her memory. Though his technique might be unpracticed, gained more from films than experience, what he lacked in ability made up for in excitement as he moved his lips over her enormous length with increasing confidence.

Ben attempted to remember the pornographic films he had seen late at night, the ones showing acts he would never have admitted to enjoying, in the dark under the covers. He remembered the techniques that had seemed most effective--the swirling tongue, the hollow cheeks, the perfect suction that made performers' eyes roll back. He had never carried out these deeds himself, but he had been on the receiving end enough times to know what felt good.

He drew back slightly, his lips around only Ava's cock head. His tongue rounded the ridge where shaft met tip, exerting strong pressure to that delicate underside where nerve endings concentrated. Ava's quick inhalation above him verified he had found the right spot. Encouraged, he raised one hand to encircle her base, moving in counterpoint to his lips using his thumb and fingers to form a tight ring.

"God," Ava said, her voice almost audible. "Where did you learn to do that?"

Ben felt a blush of pride warm his cheeks even though he couldn't answer with his mouth so totally engaged. He bobbed his head lower, taking more of her remarkable length. The stretch was considerable. His jaw ached pleasantly with the effort of accommodating her girth.

Ava's thighs trmebled over each side of his shoulders. Her fingers tightened in his hair, not guiding but rather hanging on as though she needed an anchor against the swelling sea of pleasure. Ben concentrated on inhaling through his nose, gently relaxing his throat as he had seen performers in movies, then striving to take her deeper with every downward move.

Her skin still smelled musky, mixing with the fresh perspiration of revived excitement. It was an addictive mix--distinctly Ava, clearly them. Ben discovered he was becoming hard once again in his boxers; his own need rekindled even though he had peaked not long before. There was something uniquely arousing about pleasuring her this way, about feeling her powerful reaction to his touch.

He set a cadence, paying close attention to her sensitive tip alternating with deep, encompassing strokes. Every method produced distinct reactions: a muffled groan when he sucked forcefully at just the head, a sharp gasp when he flattened his tongue on the bottom of her shaft, a tremor through her whole body when he hummed deep in his throat, generating vibrations that travelled her length.

A huge amount of precum shot from Ava's tip without warning, slickly warming Ben's lips. The sudden volume startled him; he drew back, gasping and spluttering; some of the fluid escaped down his chin in pearly rivulets.

"SHhh!" Ava snarled fiercely, her fingers clamping across his mouth over the blanket. "They will hear you!"

Ben nodded into her hand, his eyes moistened slightly as he swallowed what remained in his lips. The flavor was unique--slightly bitter but not unpleasant, with a tongue-lingering thickness. When she removed her hand, he whispered, "Sorry. Was not expecting as much."

Ava let a little laugh out. She said, "Yeah, that happens when I get really turned on. Y ou okay?"

"More than okay," Ben said, already leaning forward once again, pulled back to her like a magnet. Ava's breath caught clearly when his tongue slid out to clear the leaked moisture from his chin.

Ben went back to his work knowing what to anticipate and with fresh intent. One hand caressing what his tongue could not fit, the other softly stroked her balls, feeling them tighten with her rising desire as he worked her shaft with more intensity. His movements grew more enthusiastic, his head bobbing steadily under the blanket, which began to shift with his motions--up and down, forward and back, the fabric pulling taut then slackening in a rhythm that matched his oral ministrations.

"Ben," Ava said, her voice barely above a whisper but laden with longing. "That is--god, that is so good."

The praise spurred him on. He hollowed his cheeks to provide more suction and felt her twitch on his tongue as he moved. Now the blanket moved more conspicuously, slipping with every head motion. A corner slipped off Ava's shoulder, letting in a shaft of afternoon sunlight that illuminated particles of dust floating in the warm air around them.

Neither noticed the slipping cover. Ava's head had dropped back into the couch; her eyes closed in ecstasy; her bottom lip trapped between her teeth to mute her moans. Ben lost himself in his work, totally concentrated on the sensation of her in his mouth, the flavor of her on his tongue, the faint signs of her approaching climax--the tightening of her thighs, the quickening of her breath, the increased flow of precum that he now swallowed eagerly.

The risk of detection, which had felt so instantaneous just minutes before, dropped to a far-off worry. The house could have caught fire around them and neither might have noticed, so consumed were they by the intense connection forming between them in that moment.

Ava cautioned, her fingers stiff in his hair, "I'm close. Very close, Ben."

Her hips started to make little, reflexive pushes upward, mirroring Ben's downward motions, and the blanket slid farther. Now the cloth just covered his back and her lap, and his head motions were plainly seen under the tented fabric. Too far gone in their mutual enjoyment to notice such nuances, neither registered this alteration.

Ben doubled his work, his jaw hurting softly with strain. Feeling her press against the back of his throat, he took her as far as he could and then drew back to concentrate on the delicate head; his tongue whirled around the tip then plunged down again. His technique was less refined now, driven more by instinct and desire than by conscious thought. He lacked in ability, but he compensated for it with passion--a trait that seemed to be driving Ava insane above him.

"Oh God, Ben, I am about--" Ava's body stiffened and her warning cut off into a loud, bitten-back shriek. Her cock throbbed fiercely against his tongue, and the first hot jet of semen burst shockingly forcefully into his mouth.

Ben unprepared for the enormous amount. It arrived in regular bursts, overwhelming his lips more quickly than he could swallow. His throat working nonstop, he strained to keep up but some escaped streaming down his chin in thick white rivulets. There was so much of it; the taste was more complex than the precum had been--saltier.

Ava's hips jerked forward naturally as her orgasm crested, forcing her cock further into Ben's mouth. The blanket dropped completely, softly whispering fabric as it slipped to the floor. Neither saw its disappearance; too consumed in the reaches of their common peak. Ben's eyes had closed in concentration, focused on swallowing the seemingly endless flood while continuing to pleasure her through her release.

Ben's peripheral awareness initially recognized the minute variation in the quality of light. A shadow where none should exist, a sensation of movement outside the couch-facing window. His eyes opened gradually still hazed with pleasure and strain.

The view. The big, open window facing the garden was uncovered.

And there, framed like a figure in a dream in that window, stood a man. Not just any man--the gardener, his pruning shears paused mid-cut as he gazed in unvarnished horror at the spectacle ahead. His mouth lingered slightly open, his dark eyes wide with incredulity, his worn-out face caught in a startled curiosity.

Ben felt his entire body go cold, then hot, then cold again. Time stopped, elongating the instant into an eternity of suffering. He remained frozen, Ava's still-pulsing cock in his mouth, her semen visibly filling his cheeks and dripping down his chin. Wide with disbelief, his eyes met with the gardener's across the impossible distance that suddenly seemed far too small.

Ava must have seen his abrupt tightness in his body above him. His stance had changed. Her fingers that had been softly brushing his hair stopped.

"Ben?" she said, still with post-orgasmic haze in her voice. "What's wrong?"

Not able to talk, Ben looked up to quietly indicate his discomfort. Something in his expression must have registered when Ava looked in the direction of his former attention.

She gasped, her body stiff as his when she saw Manuel, the gardener. "Oh my god," she said.

Ben kneelt between Ava's legs, his mouth full of her release; Ava half-reclined on the couch, her softening cock still exposed; Manuel at the window, pruning shears suspended in midair, his expression cycling through shock, confusion, and something harder to define--a mixture of embarrassment and curiosity that made Ben's skin crawl.

The spell broke when Ben instinctively swallowed, his throat bobbing visibly as he gulped down a significant amount of Ava's girl-goo. The movement seemed to pull Manuel out of his dream. The gardener's cheeks flushed a rich scarlet, the hue clear even on his sun-weathered skin. His lips closed in a tiny line, and he stepped backwards obviously meant to be in retreat.

Ava responded instinctively and somewhat perplexingly. She pushed forward, plunging farther into Ben's mouth in what felt like a protective gesture--as if by burying more of herself inside him, she could somehow reverse what Manuel had already seen--instead of withdrawing or covering herself. The action sent another little pulse of semen onto Ben's tongue.

The surge of fluid made Ben cough reflexively, a choked sound that would have been comical in any other situation. Some of Ava's release ran down his cheek in broad, clear streams, escaping the margins of his lips. From the strain of controlling his cough while keeping the uncomfortable posture, his eyes moistened.

Outside Manuel retreated once more, his eyes dropped to the ground in tardy politeness. The harm was done, though. He had seen them--saw Ben's passionate acceptance of Ava's unusual anatomy, witnessed the private moment that ought to have been theirs only. There was no undoing it or justification that could have helped to normalize what he had seen.

Ava said, "Oh fuck," her voice tight with terror. Her hands moved hastily to cover herself, driving Ben away with more force than she probably meant. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck."

Ben staggered back on his heels, brushing his mouth with the rear of his palm, which did not help much to erase the traces of their contact. His lips swollen with effort, his chin gleamed with cum. He glanced back toward the window, but Manuel had vanished leaving only the sway of newly disturbed plants to suggest he had been there at all.

Ben said needlessly, his voice strained from his previous activities: "He saw us."

"I know that!" Ava snapped and then softened her voice right away. "Sorry; I just--fuck; this is terrible. This is so bad."

Ben glanced down at his state--kneeling on the floor, wearing only his boxers, evidence of their activities clearly visible on his face and in the wet patch spreading across the front of his boxers where his own arousal had peaked untouched during Ava's climax. From his chest, a crazy chuckle threatened to spring up. Bad didn't begin to cover it.

Reaching for the dropped blanket to provide some belated coverage, he questioned, "What do we do?"

Ava slipped the blanket about her lower torso with quivering hands. Now softening, her cock vanished behind the cloth, but Ben's recollection of Manuel seeing it stayed clear in his mind.

Her voice little, she said, "I don't know. I have no idea."

Outside they heard the garden shed door slamming far away. Manuel was organizing his tools, maybe acquiring some more. Either way, he remained on the property, a walking reminder of their exposure, a potential messenger who could shatter Ava's carefully maintained privacy with a single conversation.

Ben felt a fire in his chest, an unpleasant heat he identified as fear--not only for Ava but for himself as well. For what this exposure might mean for her. For them, if there ever existed a "them" beyond these fleeting passionate episodes.

Ava's hand met Ben's, strongly grasped as the truth of their circumstances sank over them. Her fingers quivering slightly against his, her palm was sticky with anxious sweat. Where did they go from here? In their quiet touch, was a question neither dared speak out.