The Rise of AJ Long Ch. 01

Author's Note:

This is the first in a long, ongoing series chronicling one man's rise to power, wealth, and total dominance -- and the very specific talents he used to get there. It's erotic fantasy, not a manifesto. So relax, enjoy, and don't take it too seriously.

K xx

Prologue: Daisy Dean vs AJ Long

Daisy Dean had interrogated CEOs, CFOs, and men who measured their worth in private jets and offshore accounts. But she'd never been waved into a meeting like this -- no delay, no legal team, no stall tactics. Just a time, a location, and a message: Mr. Long will see you now.

The reception area outside AJ Long's office was pristine, architectural, deliberately cold. Black stone floors. Steel-trimmed furniture. Walls of glass. Everything gleamed with silence and restraint -- the kind of restraint that whispered money in its most dangerous form: the kind that didn't need to show off.

Daisy sat straight-backed in a charcoal pencil skirt and high-buttoned blouse, her curves restrained in tailored fabric that did its best -- but never quite succeeded -- in concealing her body. Thirty-four, red-haired, and full-figured, she carried herself with practiced authority, but she knew what people saw when she walked into a room.

Her coworkers called her "Double D." They thought it was clever -- the alliteration of her initials and the unavoidable fact of her breasts. She ignored it. Just like she ignored the way men looked at her in meetings, or how she crossed her arms in elevators. She'd learned long ago that professionalism didn't always silence desire -- it just made it more quiet.

No wedding ring today. She never wore it to interviews. Not because she was hiding, but because it always led to questions -- especially when they realised who her husband was.

Marcus Dean. Chief Financial Auditor for the Department of Corporate Oversight. Her boss. And the man who had personally assigned her to AJ Long's case.

"No formal training. No investors. No board. No record of early funding. Yet he controls a multi-industry operation valued at just under three billion dollars. Logistics. Construction. Private contracts. You name it. That kind of empire doesn't build itself."

"And it doesn't happen clean."

Daisy had been brought in because she could stay detached. Calculated. Sharp. She knew how to separate her presence from her person -- to be more than what people assumed when they looked at her.

But as she smoothed her skirt and crossed one leg over the other, she couldn't help but feel the weight of something different pressing down around this office. There were too many gaps in AJ Long's history. Too many vanishing names. Too many sealed deals with no origin.

And no one -- not one person -- had tried to slow her access. Not legal. Not PR.

It was almost like he wanted her to come.

"Mr. Long will see you now," the receptionist said, without looking.

Daisy rose and followed the silent assistant through a set of tall glass doors -- and into a space that swallowed her whole.

The office was wide, gleaming, and high above the city. A dark walnut desk commanded the space, clean and almost intimidating in its lack of clutter. No awards. No plaques. Just a sleek pen and an untouched glass of amber liquid. The air smelled like leather, polish, and something warmer -- a masculine spice she couldn't quite place.

And behind the desk, standing with effortless poise, was him.

AJ Long.

Taller than she expected. Broader. His skin a deep, even brown, his build heavy with strength, not sculpted but earned. He wore a black dress shirt, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms, the fabric pulled tight across his chest and biceps. His face was clean-shaven, his jaw strong, his mouth curved in a slow, knowing smile.

"Mrs. Dean," he said, his voice low, rich. "Glad you made it."

She took his hand -- large, warm, rough-skinned -- and matched his gaze evenly as their palms met.

"Mr. Long," she replied, keeping her tone professional. She felt the heat behind his handshake, but didn't flinch. She didn't flinch for anyone.

He gestured to the chair across from him. She sat, tucking one ankle behind the other, her posture immaculate. She noticed his eyes flick briefly downward -- not leering, just taking her in. She was used to it.

She wasn't used to how intently it felt.

"I assumed you'd want legal present," she said, flipping open her notepad.

"I don't," he said.

Her eyebrow lifted slightly. "Most CEOs want a record."

"Most CEOs aren't me."

He leaned back, not arrogantly -- just easily. Settled. Centred. Like he'd already won something she hadn't realised was up for grabs.

"You can ask me anything," he said. "Take notes. Be thorough. If you decide you need something official later, we'll bring in the lawyers. But right now?" His smile deepened. "Let's keep it light."

"Light," she repeated, writing nothing down yet. "You want to give an informal statement... off the record."

"Honest conversation," he corrected. "That's what you're here for, right?"

She hesitated. The room was warm. Too warm. He didn't feel like a suspect. He didn't feel like a liar.

He felt like gravity.

"Alright," she said finally. "No recorder. Just notes."

He nodded, and she flipped to the first page.

"Your public school records end abruptly. No diploma. No GED. No college. Yet fifteen years later, you're at the head of a private empire worth over three billion dollars."

AJ didn't blink.

"You're thirty-two years old, Mr. Long," she continued. "And no one -- not your competitors, not your partners, not the government -- seems to know where you came from."

She turned the page again, lips tightening.

"We did find one thing. A set of unofficial certificates. Handwritten. Dated. And signed not by a principal... but by a teacher."

She met his eyes.

"Hannah Bloomfield. Eleventh grade. She left the profession the same year. No forwarding info. No professional reference. She just... disappeared."

AJ said nothing. Not defensive. Not amused. Just... watching her.

Daisy leaned in slightly, her voice calm but cutting.

"So I'll ask plainly, Mr. Long--"

"Did you even graduate?"

--------

The Rise of AJ Long CH1 - 'Graduation'

AJ Long stared out the front window of the small apartment he shared with Harold, his massive frame slouched on the worn-out couch like a lazy lion in the sun. His long legs stretched out, clad in athletic shorts, while a tank top hugged his broad chest and thick biceps. The spring break sun was already shining, but AJ wasn't in a good mood.

"Bro, this is bullshit," he muttered, rubbing his knee absently. The old injury still gave him the occasional ache. "Spring break was supposed to be chill. Not back to school work."

Harold, hunched over a laptop at the kitchen table, didn't look up. "It's one subject, man. English. You get through these sessions and you're golden."

AJ groaned, tossing his head back. "I'm not failing because I'm dumb. I just hate writing about, like... feelings and metaphors and all that literary crap."

"Well, maybe Mrs. Blowjob Lips can inspire some creative thought," Harold said with a mischievous grin, tapping away at his keyboard.

AJ snorted, then looked over. "You're not still calling her that?"

"I'm not the only one. Whole damn campus calls her that. C'mon man, those lips are legendary. Hannah Bloomfield was a ten back in the day. And from what I've seen? She aged like wine."

AJ smirked. "She's married, bro."

Harold shrugged. "Doesn't make those lips less real."

AJ chuckled, shaking his head. "You're a mess, man."

"Just saying. She's hot. And if she's tutoring you, alone, in her house, in that garden of theirs, in this heat? You might learn a thing or two that ain't in the curriculum."

AJ brushed it off with a grin, but a flicker of curiosity sparked behind his dark eyes. He wasn't thinking anything inappropriate, not yet. But he wasn't blind either. He remembered Hannah from a few neighbourhood get-togethers. The kind of woman who turned heads without even trying. Always smiling, always gracious, always just out of reach.

When he pulled up to the Bloomfield residence later that morning, he took a slow breath behind the wheel of his old Jeep. Big white house. Wide open lawn. Thick hedges surrounding the backyard. The kind of place that felt expensive but not cold. He hadn't seen her in months.

The front door opened before he even knocked. And there she was.

Hannah Bloomfield.

Her golden blonde hair was pulled up in a loose bun, soft strands escaping around her face. A simple white sundress clung lightly to her curves -- tasteful, elegant, but cut just short enough to show off her tanned, toned legs. Her lips, full and tinted naturally pink, curled into a welcoming smile.

"AJ! You made it," she said brightly. Her voice was honey -- warm and smooth.

"Yeah... thanks for doing this, Mrs. Bloomfield," AJ replied, clearing his throat and shifting his weight.

Her smile deepened, and she touched his arm lightly as she corrected him, "Please -- just Hannah. I feel like I've known you since you were a kid."

He grinned. "Alright... Hannah."

"Well, I always say there's no better time for a breakthrough than spring," she said, stepping aside to let him in. "Come in, make yourself comfortable. I thought we'd work in the garden. The weather's too perfect to be stuck indoors."

The Bloomfields' backyard was like something out of a magazine. A sprawling stone patio. Lush green grass. Tall trees offering little patches of shade. And the pool -- glistening under the sun, calm, tempting.

AJ set his backpack down at the edge of a wide deck chair. He sat, legs open, arms draped over the sides, looking more like he was preparing for a post-game interview than an English lesson.

Hannah brought out a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses, sitting across from him with a clipboard of notes.

"So," she said, crossing her legs slowly, "Let's talk about what you've been reading in class. I know you were working on Of Mice and Men before break. You remember the characters?"

AJ rubbed his chin. "Yeah. George is the smart one. Lennie's the big soft dude who doesn't know his own strength."

Her smile widened. "Exactly. So why do you think Steinbeck made Lennie that way?"

AJ paused, the gears turning. "Maybe... to show that strength ain't enough. You gotta be able to control it. Think ahead."

Hannah looked genuinely impressed. "That's a really thoughtful interpretation, AJ."

He shrugged, looking modest. "It's easier talking about it than writing it down."

They kept going for about an hour. She asked questions. He answered them with more depth than she expected. Occasionally he'd flash that bright, easy grin that made people like him instantly. He wasn't just some athlete coasting by. There was more to him. She saw it -- and it unsettled her.

When they finally paused, AJ stood and stretched. It was impossible to ignore the sheer size of him -- a towering 6'3" frame, built like a linebacker. His arms were thick with muscle, veins subtly running along the surface, and his deep dark brown skin caught the sunlight like polished mahogany. Every movement revealed tight definition -- a man forged from years of explosive speed and controlled power.

"Hey, Mrs. B?" he said, adjusting already to the new familiarity. "I actually brought some of my gear with me. Figured I'd cut the grass for you real quick, save you hiring someone else."

She blinked. "Oh -- that's very thoughtful of you, AJ. But you really don't need to do that."

"Nah, no charge. I work for a landscaping company part-time. If you like how it turns out, I'll leave the card and you can call if you ever want to make it a regular thing. It's just a quick job."

She hesitated only for a second. "Alright. That's sweet of you."

AJ walked off toward the garage, peeling his t-shirt off as he went. Hannah turned to tidy up their papers, but something made her glance up.

Her breath caught.

AJ was pushing the mower out onto the grass, shirtless now, the sun gleaming off his glistening, sweat-slicked chest. His back was carved and wide, his waist narrow and taut. Every muscle in his shoulders, arms, and abs flexed with each controlled step. His skin was a deep, rich brown -- smooth, unblemished, and radiant under the late-morning sun. And with every moment he worked, he looked less like a boy and more like a statue come to life.

"This isn't a boy," she whispered to herself. "This is a man."

She tried to look away. But her eyes found their way back. Again and again.

By the time he finished, AJ's body shimmered in the heat, his breath steady despite the effort. He grabbed a bottle of water from the table and took a long swig, then poured some down the back of his neck. Water ran down over his chest, down his abs, soaking the waistband of his shorts.

Hannah stood abruptly. "You didn't have to work up a sweat for me," she said, attempting to sound casual.

AJ smirked, flashing that big, brilliant smile. "I don't mind a little sweat. Kinda like the burn."

"Still... it's spring break. You should be enjoying yourself."

He looked at her with that disarming confidence. "Who's to say I'm not?"

For just a second, neither of them said anything. The silence hummed, thick and heavy in the warm air. Then she cleared her throat and gathered their things.

"Same time tomorrow?" she asked.

"I'll be here," he said, slinging the shirt over his shoulder as he turned toward the gate.

She watched him walk away. Strong. Relaxed. Self-assured. As the gate clicked shut behind him, she pressed her cool lemonade glass to her neck. She hadn't expected this.

And for the first time in years, she felt the heat not just from the sun... but from somewhere deep inside.

Day 2

The morning sun poured through the gauzy curtains, warm and insistent against Hannah's bare legs. She shifted restlessly under the thin sheets, her body aching with a quiet desperation she didn't want to acknowledge. Her hand slid across the mattress to Clive's side. Cold. Empty.

The note on the nightstand was short and perfunctory -- a meeting, a dinner, late night. She stared at the words until they blurred, her stomach knotting not with sadness, but with something hotter. More primal. She pressed her thighs together. Nothing helped. The low thrum of need coiled tighter in her belly with every heartbeat. It wasn't loneliness. It wasn't sadness. It was pure, hungry frustration.

She cursed under her breath, pulling on a pair of light white shorts and a pale yellow tank top. The fabric tied at her waist, exposing just a teasing sliver of stomach she hadn't shown off in years. It's the heat, she told herself. It's spring. It's nothing.

The doorbell rang precisely at eleven.

And there he was.

AJ stood casually on the porch, broad and tall and glowing in the sunlight. Loose black shorts hung low on his hips. A deep grey tank clung to his chest and shoulders, hinting at the dense, sculpted power underneath. His skin -- rich, dark brown -- gleamed like polished stone, drinking in the sunlight. And that smile -- big, brilliant, effortlessly charming -- lit up his whole face.

"Morning, Mrs. B," he said, flashing teeth that could disarm the devil.

For a heartbeat, Hannah just stared.

"Good morning, AJ," she managed, stepping aside quickly. "Come on through."

They set up in the garden again. The pool shimmered in the background, and the soft hum of bees filled the warm air. Hannah perched primly at the table, trying to focus on the workbook in front of her. But her eyes kept slipping sideways, catching the way AJ stretched back in his chair, long legs sprawling, muscles shifting under taut skin. The deep ridges of his arms flexed lazily whenever he lifted his water bottle.

He wasn't even trying. That was the worst part. He wasn't posing. Wasn't flexing. He was just... existing. And he was breathtaking.

She dragged her gaze back to the page. "Okay, so... the theme of isolation in Of Mice and Men..."

AJ leaned forward, elbows on his knees. The muscles in his forearms bulged slightly as he studied the notes. Hannah swallowed thickly. Her mouth felt dry. Focus, damn it. But the heat wasn't just from the sun anymore. It was from him. The sheer, overwhelming physicality of him. The way the sunlight kissed his skin. The way his body seemed too big for the chair, for the garden, for the world she had lived in for so long. He was a force. And she was losing herself.

It happened so fast she didn't even register it at first. AJ reached for the sunblock she'd left on the table. He twisted the cap -- SPLAT. The bottle exploded, thick white cream shooting across his lap in a vulgar, messy streak.

"Shit!" AJ barked, laughing as he stood up quickly.

Hannah gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. The front of his shorts were soaked, the creamy liquid dripping down the fabric, spreading across his thighs.

"Oh, you poor thing!" she blurted without thinking. "Here -- just... just take them off. I'll wash them. It's fine."

AJ raised an eyebrow, amused. "You sure?"

"Yes! It's no trouble at all."

She turned quickly to give him privacy, but not before she caught a glimpse. The shorts hit the grass. And underneath -- tight, clinging white briefs. For a split second, she saw it. The shape. The mass.

Oh my god.

She rushed into the kitchen, tossing his ruined shorts into the sink and running cold water over them with trembling hands.

When she turned back toward the garden window, her breath caught.

AJ stood in the full blaze of the sun, bare except for those wet, white briefs. His massive frame was slick with sweat, shining. He rubbed lotion into his broad chest, into the deep grooves of his abs. His muscles flexed and stretched with each motion -- hypnotic, unstoppable. And then his hands dropped lower. Down to his stomach. Down to the thick waistband clinging to his hips. Down to the obscene, heavy bulge that strained against the wet fabric.

Hannah froze.

No... no, it can't be...

The shape was unmistakable. A thick, heavy ridge, long and arching slightly to the left, outlined perfectly in the damp cotton. The broad, flared head pushed against the fabric obscenely. A thick vein traced its way along the shaft. Beneath it, his balls hung heavy, stretching the material even further. He adjusted his weight -- and the whole thing twitched.

Her knees almost buckled.

It's not real.

It can't be real.

No man could be that big. Not in real life. Not outside of dirty magazines and whispered fantasies. Not AJ -- the boy she had known since he was barely a teenager. Not--

Her thighs clenched, slick and trembling.

When AJ stepped inside, Hannah forced herself to breathe. She grabbed a towel from the laundry basket and thrust it toward him without meeting his eyes. "Here. You... you can wrap this. While your shorts dry."

He chuckled -- a low, warm sound -- and wrapped the towel casually around his waist, knotting it loosely at the hip.

They sat back at the table. AJ leaned forward, studying the next exercise, utterly unbothered by his near-nudity. Hannah tried to pretend everything was normal. Tried. But every time AJ shifted, the towel slid a little lower. A little looser. Until finally, as he leaned forward to scribble a note, the towel slipped free entirely -- forgotten, pooling around his hips.

And he didn't notice. Or pretended not to.

He sat there, legs spread, studying intently, his massive bulge outlined perfectly by the tight, damp white fabric stretched across it. Right there. Inches from her.

Hannah couldn't look away.

Her mind screamed at her to be decent, to be mature, to be responsible. But her body -- traitorous, desperate -- devoured the sight hungrily.

It's so big. It's so thick. It looks heavy. How could that even fit... inside...?

She swallowed, her mouth bone dry. The heat between her thighs pulsed harder, aching, needy. Her fingers trembled on the notebook. She shifted in her seat, pretending to cross her legs, but really trying -- failing -- to relieve the growing pressure between them.

AJ leaned forward, scribbling a note in the workbook, the bulge bobbing slightly with each movement. The thick head of his cock pressed shamelessly against the tight cotton, almost as if it were reaching for her.

And God help her, she wanted to reach back.

You're a married woman. He's your student.

But those excuses sounded thin and stupid in the searing heat of the moment.

She wanted. Plain and simple. She wanted.

Somehow, by sheer force of will, they made it through another half hour of studying. AJ tucked his towel casually around himself when he stood, flashing her that blinding grin.

"Thanks for the help, Mrs. B. See you tomorrow?"

She nodded dumbly, heart pounding, mouth too dry to speak. She watched him walk away, towel slung low around his hips, every step radiating casual power and lazy, masculine confidence. She shut the door behind him and pressed her forehead against the cool wood.

That night, Hannah lay tangled in the sheets, her tank top pushed up above her breasts, her shorts pushed down around her thighs. She stared into the darkness, her body burning.

All she could see was him. The shimmer of his dark skin. The obscene, impossible bulge stretching his briefs. The easy, devastating smile he wore like a weapon he didn't even know he was carrying.

Her hand slid low across her stomach, hesitating, trembling.

She closed her eyes. And told herself to stop. To behave!

--------

The night pressed heavy and humid around Hannah as she tossed beneath the thin sheet. Sleep didn't come easily; it gripped her reluctantly, like a slow descent into something thick and heady. Her body was wound too tight, her skin sensitive to every brush of the linen against her thighs, her breasts. Her mind kept circling the same forbidden thoughts -- sun-warmed skin, rippling muscles, the impossible weight swinging between powerful legs.

And then she slipped under.

It was not like any dream she could remember.

At first, there was only heat -- not uncomfortable, but enveloping. A warmth that kissed every inch of her skin, making her feel languid and exposed. Then there was the sensation of being watched, of a presence moving toward her through the dark. Not threatening. Not frightening. Commanding.

He emerged from the shadows, faceless but overwhelming.

A towering figure of muscle and dominance, his frame cut from marble, every inch of him powerful and precise. His skin was dark, glistening under an unseen sun, his chest broad enough to block out the very air around him. She couldn't see his face -- there was no face -- but she felt his gaze as surely as she felt her heart hammering against her ribs.

She wanted to look away. To run.

She didn't.

The air seemed to thicken as he approached, his steps slow, deliberate, inevitable. Her knees weakened, her body betraying her utterly. She was breathless when he reached her, when she felt the heat rolling off him like waves against her bare skin.

He didn't speak. He didn't need to.

Large, powerful hands closed around her waist, lifting her effortlessly. She whimpered -- a soft, helpless sound -- as he pressed her against the unseen wall behind her, pinning her with the sheer weight of his body. She could feel every inch of him: the hard slab of his chest, the corded strength of his arms, the impossible thickness pressing against her stomach.

She writhed instinctively, not to escape, but to feel more.

Her hands clawed at his shoulders, desperate to find purchase, to claim something solid in the onslaught of sensation. His skin was hot and slick, muscles rippling beneath her fingers like coiled steel.

The bulge between his legs shifted, grinding slowly against her lower belly.

Hannah moaned, her head falling back, her body arching toward him. She had never felt so small. So delicate. So owned.

One massive hand slid up her body, palming her breast, squeezing with a firm possessiveness that made her gasp. The other hand cupped the back of her neck, holding her in place as he leaned down -- no face, no features, only hunger -- and brushed lips she could not see against the rapid pulse pounding in her throat.

The thickness between them throbbed, pulsing with raw power, and she knew -- without words, without thought -- that it was for her. That it would claim her, fill her, destroy her in the sweetest way imaginable.

Her legs wrapped around his hips instinctively, her body begging without shame.

"Please," she whispered into the heavy darkness.

The faceless man growled -- low, primal -- a sound that vibrated through her bones. His hands tightened around her, and he shifted, positioning the enormous head of his cock between her wet, aching folds.

She felt the first pressure -- thick, unyielding, stretching her open -- and cried out, half in shock, half in desperate need.

He began to push inside.

Her body opened helplessly around him, her walls stretching painfully, deliciously wide. The sensation was overwhelming -- too much, not enough -- and she felt herself shatter, the first violent waves of orgasm crashing through her even before he was fully inside.

And then--

A bright flash.

A voice.

"Fuck Me--!"

Her own voice, hoarse and broken with pleasure.

Hannah jolted awake, gasping for breath.

Her heart pounded against her ribs as if it was trying to escape. Her body was drenched -- sweat slicked her forehead, her breasts, the insides of her thighs. The sheets beneath her were damp, clinging to her skin.

She blinked against the darkness, confused, dazed.

Her hand was between her legs, pressing into the soaked crotch of her panties without her even realising it. The sensitive flesh throbbed under her touch, her clit swollen and aching.

She ripped her hand away, ashamed, her chest heaving.

The image of the man -- that faceless, overwhelming figure -- still burned behind her closed eyelids. She could still feel the ghost of his touch, the stretch of his thickness inside her, the crushing pleasure of being filled so deeply she thought she might break apart.

She covered her face with her hands, shuddering.

A dream. Just a dream.

But even as she told herself that, she knew. Deep down.

It wasn't just a dream. It was a manifestation.

Of her lust.

Of her longing.

And though the man's face had been hidden in the dream's dark mist, she knew the truth even if she wouldn't say it aloud.

The towering body. The shimmering dark skin. The heavy, obscene weight pressing between her thighs.

It wasn't just any man...

Day 3

The sun was already burning high by the time Hannah led AJ out into the backyard again. A thin sheen of sweat prickled at the back of her neck, though whether it was from the heat or the memory of her dream, she couldn't say. She had dressed more sensibly today -- a breezy button-down blouse and longer linen shorts -- but as soon as she caught sight of AJ, lounging in the garden chair, notebook balanced casually on one broad thigh, she realised it wouldn't matter.

He wore athletic shorts again, no shirt, his deep brown skin glistening already in the morning light. Every line of his body was sharply defined, as though carved by some indulgent artist: the thick slope of his shoulders, the deep cut of his abs, the power in his long, heavy legs. He radiated heat, confidence, something that made the air around him seem thicker, harder to breathe.

They began the session dutifully enough. Hannah forced herself to focus, guiding him through character development and essay structure, quizzing him with gentle patience. AJ responded well -- better than she expected -- his brow furrowed slightly in concentration, his big hands cradling the pen almost delicately as he scribbled notes. But Hannah barely heard her own words. Every movement he made drew her eyes, every casual smile sent a fresh ripple of heat through her blood.

After an hour, she closed the workbook and exhaled softly. "That's enough for today, AJ. Great job." She smiled warmly, more warmly than she should have. "Besides, I want to spend some time in the pool this afternoon. I'm trying to teach myself to swim properly."

AJ leaned back in the chair, stretching his arms lazily overhead until every line of muscle tightened beneath his glistening skin. He gave her a grin that was both boyish and devastating. "Thanks, Mrs. B. Sure, must be nice to cool off after a hot afternoon in the sun. You enjoy yourself..." He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, muscles flexing. "Just wish I had access to a pool myself. I'm burning up out here."

Hannah hesitated. Her sensible side screamed at her to smile politely and send him home. But another part -- the part she was losing control over more and more each day -- answered first.

"You can use the pool for a little while, AJ. Just... don't tell my husband," she added, half-laughing, half-serious. "He doesn't really like other people using it."

AJ's grin widened. "That would be great. But I don't have a swimsuit. You mind if I just go in my underwear?"

There was a second -- a heartbeat -- where Hannah could have said no. Could have clung to propriety, drawn a line in the sand.

Instead, she heard herself say, too quickly, "Great -- I mean, good idea. I mean... yes, that's fine, AJ."

She could feel the heat flooding her cheeks, but he didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he did -- and just didn't care.

AJ kicked off his trainers and socks with casual ease, then stood, facing her directly. Without hesitation, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and slid them down his legs.

Hannah's breath caught.

He stood in nothing but tight, white briefs, the fabric already damp with sweat and clinging obscenely to his body. The thick, heavy bulge at his crotch dominated her vision -- not exaggerated, not imagined, but real, massive, impossible. For a few seconds, she could only stare, her mouth slightly open, her pulse hammering in her ears.

Then, mercifully, AJ turned and sprinted for the pool, diving in with a huge splash that sent cool water spraying across the patio.

"Woooo!" he shouted, surfacing with a shake of his head. "This feels amazing!"

He grinned up at her, hair slicked back, muscles gleaming even wetter now, and beckoned with a wave. "Come on in, Mrs. B! Water's perfect!"

Still dazed, she nodded and peeled off her shorts, revealing a modest navy bikini underneath. It was more conservative than the playful set she had nearly worn, but when she caught AJ's eyes widening slightly as he watched her approach, she realised it didn't matter. The bikini clung to her hips, cupped her full breasts, accentuated the soft curves of her stomach and thighs. She could feel his gaze drinking her in, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she revelled in being looked at that way.

Hannah stepped cautiously into the shallow end, the cool water licking up her legs, her stomach, her chest. She let out a little shiver and a gasp as the temperature shocked her overheated skin.

"Cold, huh?" AJ called, wading toward her effortlessly, the water barely reaching his waist.

"Freezing," she laughed, wrapping her arms around herself.

He closed the distance between them in a few easy strides, the muscles of his chest and shoulders flexing with every movement. He reached for her hands, his big palms engulfing hers with ease.

"You trust me?" he asked, voice low, teasing.

Hannah hesitated, her heart pounding. But something inside her, something reckless and giddy, answered without thought.

"I guess so."

"Good. To get used to it, you gotta dunk your whole body under at once. On three."

"But--"

"Three. Two..."

"A--" she started to protest, but AJ was already there, his hands firm on her shoulders, gently but insistently pushing her down into the water.

Hannah went under with a gasp, her eyes blinking open instinctively -- and found herself kneeling on the pool floor, face-to-face with the most indecent sight she'd ever witnessed.

The water had rendered AJ's white briefs completely transparent. There was no mystery now, no suggestion. His cock hung heavy and thick between his legs, dark and veined, the massive head distinct and proud even in its semi-soft state. His balls, full and round, floated slightly beneath, perfectly visible, perfectly obscene.

Hannah's lungs screamed for air, but she couldn't look away. Every inch of him was raw, potent masculinity, an embodiment of every half-buried fantasy she had tried so desperately to smother.

At last, she surfaced, gasping and blinking against the bright sun.

"How was it?" AJ asked, his grin wide, easy.

"Amazing," she panted, struggling to calm the frantic beat of her heart -- and not just from the shock of the cold.

"I'm gonna take you swimming properly," AJ said, his tone playful but commanding. "Fall back into my arms. Trust me."

Without waiting for permission, he moved behind her, his big hands gripping her waist just under the water. Gently but firmly, he guided her to lean back against his chest, her feet lifting off the pool floor.

The feeling of his hard body against her back was electric. His arms caged her loosely, hands resting just beneath the swell of her breasts, fingers splayed wide. His skin was hot even through the water, every muscle taut and unyielding. She let her head fall back against his shoulder, letting him bear her weight completely.

And then she felt it.

Thick. Hardening.

Pressing insistently against the curve of her ass.

Hannah froze for a moment, the shock of it stealing her breath again. But then -- shamefully, wantonly -- she shifted her hips, pressing herself closer, testing the feel of him.

Another twitch. Another pulse of hardness growing against her.

A tiny, helpless moan escaped her lips before she could stop it.

God, he was huge. She could feel it now, not just see it -- the impossible size of him, the solid heat of his cock growing and hardening against her soaked bikini bottoms. Her body, traitorous and greedy, arched into him, seeking more.

She felt his breath, warm and heavy against the side of her neck. His hands tightened subtly, pulling her back against him. And when her body drifted slightly away with the water's current, she found herself reaching back, grabbing his hip, pulling herself tight against him again.

They floated like that for a long moment, breathing in unison, locked together by a force far greater than themselves.

AJ shifted slightly, his hands drifting lower, fingers brushing dangerously close to the underside of her breasts. Hannah bit her lip, feeling the delicious, devastating tension stretch taut between them.

She was slipping. Sinking.

She wanted to let go completely.

The sharp, sudden BEEP BEEP BEEP of a car horn shattered the moment like glass.

Hannah jerked upright, water splashing around them.

"Shit," she hissed. "Clive's home."

AJ grabbed the side of the pool, hoisting himself out in one fluid, dripping motion. Hannah followed, scrambling, heart pounding with panic and something worse -- regret.

"Quick -- grab your stuff," she hissed, tossing him his towel. "Go out the side gate. I'll distract him."

AJ nodded, flashing her a quick, wicked grin before darting toward the side path, water dripping from every perfect muscle.

Hannah wrapped herself hastily in a towel and hurried inside, her body still humming, still throbbing, with every forbidden touch, every grinding thrust of heat she hadn't dared yet to name.

And for the first time, she realised with terrible clarity--

She wasn't fighting it anymore.

She was waiting for it to happen.

--------

The dream swallowed her whole before she even realised she was dreaming.

Once again, there was only heat at first -- a thick, golden haze that clung to her skin, wrapping her in a suffocating, delicious warmth. Then came the sensation of being watched, the now-familiar feeling of a presence moving through the shadows toward her. Not a threat. A promise.

The figure emerged, towering and faceless as before. But this time, there were details -- little betrayals of the dream's misty veil. The figure was tall. So tall she had to crane her neck to look up at him. His skin gleamed dark and beautiful, catching the light like polished obsidian. His body was massive -- thick ropes of muscle moving beneath slick, stretched skin -- and something inside her twisted in helpless awe at the raw maleness of him.

He approached without hesitation, reaching for her, pulling her into his arms as if she belonged there. His scent -- warm, masculine, uniquely him -- flooded her senses, and she sagged against him, powerless. His hands roamed her body, sliding under the sheer slip of a dress she wore in the dream, cupping her breasts, her hips, squeezing with possessive hunger.

Between them, she felt him -- thick, heavy, pulsing against her belly. Hardening.

She whimpered, pressing herself closer, arching her body toward the faceless man, desperate to feel more. His hands slid lower, lifting her with inhuman strength, positioning her. She felt the broad, swollen head of his cock nudging against her sopping entrance, teasing, stretching--

She gasped, half in pain, half in frantic need, as he began to push inside.

"Please," she begged, voice breaking, arms locked around his thick neck.

The man growled -- deep, satisfied -- and drove himself deeper. Her body struggled, stretched, opened around him, and she screamed not in fear but in feral, mindless pleasure.

And then -- just for a second -- the mist cleared.

And she saw a flash of white teeth against deep brown skin.

A smile she knew too well.

"A--"

Hannah woke with a cry, sitting bolt upright in the bed, chest heaving.

The sheets were twisted around her thighs, damp with sweat -- and something more shameful. She was soaking, her panties clinging to her slick folds, her nipples painfully hard against the thin cotton of her nightshirt.

She buried her face in her hands and groaned softly.

Another dream.

Another damn dream.

And this time... this time, she couldn't pretend she didn't know who it was.

Day 4

She tried to shake it off as she dressed for the day, pulling on a loose sundress -- soft white cotton, thin straps over her shoulders, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs. Sensible, she told herself. Comfortable in the heat.

But even as she tied her hair up in a loose bun and dabbed a touch of gloss on her lips, she knew she was lying to herself.

She was dressing for him.

When the doorbell rang, her heart leapt.

AJ stood there, smiling easily as always, but today -- blessedly, damnably -- he was wearing a thin gray t-shirt, soft and snug against his broad chest.

"Morning, Mrs. B," he said, that brilliant smile flashing.

"Morning, AJ," she said, her voice only a little too bright. She stepped back to let him inside, acutely aware of the way his eyes flicked down over her dress before politely meeting her gaze again.

They settled into their usual spot in the garden, notebooks open, the sun blazing down on them. Hannah tried to focus, tried to push the dream from her mind, but the heat was relentless. Sweat beaded on AJ's temples, darkening the fabric of his t-shirt, making it cling to every sculpted curve of muscle.

She fanned herself absently with her notebook.

"You should take that shirt off, AJ," she said, trying to sound casual. "Get some sun while you study."

He chuckled, that rich, low sound curling around her spine. "I would, Mrs. B, but I caught too much sun on my back yesterday. It's still kinda raw. Can't exactly put lotion on myself."

The words hung there between them.

An opening.

A test.

Her heart pounded, but her mouth moved before her brain could catch up.

"I can help. I mean... it's no trouble. I have some fresh sunblock inside."

For a second, AJ just looked at her, something unreadable flickering behind his dark eyes. Then he smiled again -- slower this time, almost lazy. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure," she said, too quickly.

She retrieved the lotion and came back to find him already tugging the shirt off over his head.

And sweet merciful heaven, the sight stole her breath.

His body was a masterpiece -- broad, thickly muscled, every ridge and plane sharply defined. His skin was a deep, dark brown that seemed to absorb the sunlight and reflect it back in golden highlights. Sweat made him gleam, every inch of him looking slick and strong and utterly, devastatingly male.

He sat forward slightly in the chair, arms braced casually on his knees, giving her full access to his wide, powerful back.

Hannah squeezed a generous dollop of lotion into her trembling hand and approached him, every step weighted by something thick and electric.

AJ sat forward slightly in the chair, his massive body glistening even before she touched him. His back was a broad canvas of pure, dark muscle, tapering into a narrow waist framed by strong, heavy thighs. The sun kissed his skin with a rich bronze glow, highlighting every ridge, every sculpted valley. He looked like something chiseled out of stone, polished to a gleam, a living, breathing monument to masculinity.

Hannah swallowed and pressed her palms against his shoulders.

The heat of him was immediate, startling. He was so warm, so solid, that for a moment she just froze, letting the feeling of living muscle under her hands sink in. Then she began to move, spreading the lotion slowly across his shoulders, down the thick cords of his neck, over the bulging rounds of his upper arms.

Her hands were tiny compared to him. She needed both palms just to span the width of one shoulder blade. His muscles shifted and flexed beneath her touch, dense and powerful in a way that sent a rush of heat through her belly.

God, he was strong. Not just gym-strong, not the puffed-up kind of strength she sometimes saw in younger men -- but real strength, built from years of relentless training, from using every ounce of his body as a weapon and a tool. It was a kind of strength Clive had never had. Never could have.

Her husband's body flashed across her mind -- pale, soft, sagging in places he never seemed to notice anymore. When had Clive's shoulders lost their hardness? When had his arms stopped feeling safe and started feeling... fragile?

The contrast was brutal. Embarrassing.

There was no comparison.

One was a boy trapped in a man's routine.

The other -- the one under her hands now -- was a man in every brutal, magnificent sense of the word.

She worked lower, her fingers sliding over the thick cords of AJ's lats, feeling the way his breathing expanded and contracted the vast plane of his back. Each motion was a symphony of strength, a dance of latent, effortless power. She could feel the ridges of his ribs beneath taut skin, the deep groove of his spine, the heavy, loaded muscles bracketing it on either side.

She caught the faint, clean scent of his skin mixed with the lotion -- something sun-warmed and spicy and male -- and inhaled without thinking, greedy for it.

AJ let out a low sound, something like a sigh, deep and rumbling in his chest. The vibration traveled up her hands and straight to her core.

This is wrong, she told herself. This is so wrong.

But her hands didn't stop.

They slid lower, across the deep V of his lower back, pausing just above the waistband of his shorts. She traced the tight muscles there almost reverently, her thumbs dipping into the shallow hollows at either side of his spine.

Her fingers flexed, squeezing slightly, feeling how hard he was. How alive.

And God help her, she wanted to keep going.

She wanted to run her hands lower, over his hips, around to the front, to that obscene bulge she tried so hard not to look at but couldn't forget.

She gasped at her own thoughts, pulled her hands away quickly, almost stumbling back a step.

"Your turn," AJ said, his voice low, almost teasing.

She blinked at him, dazed. "What?"

"You'll burn out here too. Let me get your back."

For one stupid, reckless second, she hesitated.

Then she turned, gathering her hair in one hand and baring her back to him.

The first touch of his hands against her skin made her shiver from head to toe.

His palms were large, warm, callused from sport and labor. He spread the lotion over her shoulders with a slow, deliberate pressure that made her knees threaten to buckle. His fingers brushed the curve where her back dipped in, where her ribs fanned outward, dangerously close to the side of her breast.

Her breathing grew shallow, her heart hammering in her chest.

She shouldn't let him touch her like this. She knew it. But it felt too good, too necessary, like water after a long drought. His hands were sure, confident, moving over her skin with a kind of worshipful patience that Clive hadn't shown her in years. Maybe ever.

Her nipples tightened under the thin fabric of her sundress, her panties already damp against her skin. She was painfully aware of how close AJ's body was behind her, how easily he could step forward and press that magnificent chest against her back, how easily he could wrap his arms around her and make her disappear into his strength.

A soft, broken sound escaped her lips before she could swallow it down.

When his hands finally left her skin, she almost whimpered at the loss.

By the time they sat down again to study, both of them glistening with oil, the atmosphere between them had thickened into something hot and unbearable.

AJ leaned forward to jot something down, the muscles of his chest flexing, the scent of lotion and skin and sun wrapping around her like a net.

Hannah tried to read the passage aloud but stumbled over the words, her mouth dry.

She was hyper-aware of every inch of her own body -- the stickiness of the lotion on her skin, the faint brush of her dress against her nipples, the ache low in her belly that refused to be ignored.

AJ smiled at her once, a little crooked, knowing smile, and her heart skipped a wild, treacherous beat.

She snapped the book shut.

"That's enough for today," she said, standing abruptly. Her voice shook. She cleared her throat and tried again. "It's too hot to concentrate. Let's... let's swim."

AJ's smile widened just slightly, but he said nothing, only rising smoothly to his feet, his massive frame casting a long, delicious shadow over her.

Hannah turned toward the pool, her pulse hammering in her ears, her body already trembling with anticipation she could no longer deny.

And somewhere, deep down, she knew -- once she stepped into that water with him, there would be no going back.

The heat was almost unbearable now, even in the shade of the garden. The lotion on their skin had long since soaked in, leaving both Hannah and AJ gleaming, flushed, and restless. Hannah sat back in her deck chair, fanning herself weakly with a folder of study notes she hadn't looked at in over fifteen minutes. Across from her, AJ lounged lazily, his massive frame sprawling comfortably, dark muscles flexing subtly with every easy shift of his body.

Hannah felt dizzy -- from the sun, from the smell of him, from the sheer overwhelming physical presence he brought into her world.

She licked her lips unconsciously and forced herself upright. Enough pretending.

"Hey," she said, her voice a little too bright, "how about we forget studying for a while? Go for a swim instead?"

AJ glanced up at her, his brilliant smile flashing. For a moment he looked almost shy. "I'm not sure, Mrs. B..." he started, scratching the back of his neck.

"Oh, come on, spoilsport," Hannah teased, feeling reckless, daring. "We have all the time in the world to finish your work. Besides..." She gave him a wicked little smile. "Who do you think decides your grades?"

AJ laughed, rich and low, and for a second Hannah could see the boy he still was beneath all that impossible manhood. But there was a glint in his eye too -- something older, something dangerous.

"I'd love to, Mrs. B," he said, leaning forward, elbows on his massive thighs. "But... I didn't bring a swimsuit again. And I'm... not wearing any underwear today."

The words hung between them, charged, vibrating.

Hannah froze.

For a heartbeat, for two, she felt the last strands of propriety fraying inside her.

She should say no.

She should tell him to go home and come back tomorrow.

She should think about her husband, about the vows she had made, about the life she had built.

Instead, she swallowed hard and said, "Well... I suppose if I turn around while you get in... no harm done."

Her voice was breathy, uncertain, almost pleading.

AJ nodded, a slow grin spreading across his handsome face. "Sounds fair."

Hannah stood, turning her back sharply to him, her heart pounding so hard she thought she might faint. She stared at the bright blue water of the pool, willing herself not to peek.

Behind her, she heard the rustle of fabric, the thud of shoes kicked aside.

And then -- splash!

A huge, joyful explosion of water rocked the pool as AJ dove in.

"Come on in, Mrs. B!" he shouted, laughing.

Heart hammering, Hannah stripped out of her sundress, revealing a sleek navy bikini underneath. She tried not to think about how her hands trembled as she undid the straps. She walked to the ladder, stepping down into the cool water with a shuddering gasp.

Hannah stepped cautiously down the metal ladder into the shimmering blue water, the sun baking her bare shoulders. The pool felt deliciously cool against her overheated skin, and for a moment, she allowed herself to simply float, tipping her head back, letting her hair fan out like silk beneath her. She forced herself to act casual, but her nerves were thrumming just under the surface.

Across the pool, AJ floated easily on his back, arms spread wide, legs lazily kicking to keep himself afloat. The sunlight danced off his dark, glistening skin, and she couldn't help but admire how effortlessly beautiful he looked -- like some sun god descended to earth, muscles stretched under golden rays, utterly at ease.

She splashed toward him playfully, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. "Bet I can out swim you," she teased.

AJ grinned, those perfect white teeth flashing. "Is that a challenge, Mrs. B?"

Before she could answer, he kicked forward, splashing water toward her with a cupped hand. She shrieked and retaliated, sending a wave back at him, and within moments they were laughing, splashing like kids, tension melting under the playful assault.

Somehow -- effortlessly -- AJ closed the distance between them and caught her hands. In one smooth motion, he tugged her against him, pulling her to float on her back across his broad chest.

Hannah gasped but didn't pull away. His hands settled lightly at her hips, steadying her, and she let herself relax, trusting the strength of him, the ease of his control. Her bare backside floated directly over his stomach -- and she became acutely aware of something warm, thick, and unmistakably male brushing against the curve of her ass under the water.

She stiffened slightly. AJ just chuckled softly.

"Relax," he murmured, his voice low and warm. "You're doing great."

The heat that flooded her cheeks had nothing to do with the sun.

They drifted like that, silent for a while, her body buoyed by the water and his hands, the thickness of him brushing, nudging, teasing against her with every small movement. It was playful. Innocent.

It was torture.

"This is so much fun," AJ said eventually, his voice vibrating through her back.

She swallowed, struggling to find her voice. "It is."

AJ laughed lightly. "Only thing that could make it better is an ice-cold beer."

Hannah seized on the distraction like a drowning woman. "There's some in the fridge!" she said too quickly.

AJ's grin widened. "You're a lifesaver, Mrs. B."

Before she could say another word, he shifted, lifting her gently off his chest. She treaded water, watching as he pushed off toward the side of the pool with strong, easy strokes.

And then -- he climbed out.

Naked.

Completely, gloriously, unashamedly naked.

For a moment, Hannah could only float there, paralysed.

AJ's body was a revelation: massive, dark, dripping, the water sliding down the deep grooves of his muscles, highlighting every inch of strength and beauty. And swinging heavily between his powerful thighs was the thick, dark shape she had felt under the water -- now visible, real, impossibly real.

It swayed from side to side as he walked, thick and heavy and alive, reaching halfway down his thigh. Her breath caught painfully in her throat.

She watched him vanish into the house, stunned, heart hammering against her ribs.

When he reappeared a moment later, carrying two dripping bottles of beer, she barely remembered to breathe.

AJ strolled back toward the pool without the slightest hint of modesty, his cock swinging naturally with each confident step. Hannah's eyes locked onto it, unable to tear herself away. It was even bigger than she had imagined -- thick as her wrist, dark and veined, the head flaring wide and heavy.

How can something like that even exist? she thought wildly.

He didn't hurry. He didn't cover himself. He simply approached, casual, relaxed, powerful, as if being worshiped was the most natural thing in the world.

When he reached the pool's edge, he dropped down onto the hot stone, sitting with his legs spread lazily, feet dangling into the water.

He sat casually on the edge of the pool, his long legs dipped lazily into the cool water, his dark skin glistening under the relentless afternoon sun. His arms braced behind him, relaxed, utterly unselfconscious -- as if sitting there completely naked, with his monstrous cock dangling heavily between his thighs, was the most natural thing in the world.

He was right at her eye level.

The water lapped gently around Hannah's chest, but she hardly noticed it.

All her focus was fixed, hypnotised, by the obscene majesty of the man lounging above her.

The thick shaft swung slightly with every small shift of his body, heavy and veined, impossibly thick even at rest. It was longer than anything she'd ever seen -- longer than anything she'd ever imagined was real. Thick as her wrist. Thicker still. Dark and powerful, almost regal in its unapologetic masculinity.

Hannah's throat tightened.

AJ noticed her wide, stunned eyes and chuckled warmly, his voice deep and easy.

"You're staring Mrs. B."

She tore her gaze upward, flushing bright red.

"I can't help it," she whispered. "It's just... it's so big."

She had intended the words to stay inside her head, but they spilled out helplessly, embarrassing her, making her cheeks burn. AJ didn't laugh or tease. He just looked down at her, calm, patient, proud.

He smiled -- not arrogantly, but warmly, inviting her in further. "You're welcome to look," he said. Then, after a beat, his voice lowered, almost teasing:

"Or more."

Hannah's heart stumbled. Her whole body ached -- her breasts swollen, her pussy throbbing, her mouth dry with desperate thirst.

"I mean..." she stammered, forcing the words out past her hammering pulse, "would I even be able to... hold it properly?"

AJ's grin widened slightly, but he said nothing cocky, nothing pushy.

Just a simple, steady encouragement:

"Only one way to find out."

Hannah's hands trembled as she lifted them from the water.

For a moment, they hovered between them -- her wedding band catching a sharp glint of sunlight --

a flash of gold, a flash of guilt.

She stared at it, her heart wrenching.

You shouldn't be doing this. You're a married woman. You belong to someone else.

But her fingers moved anyway, trembling, helpless.

She reached out -- and touched him.

The first brush of her fingertips against the dark shaft sent a shiver through her entire body. His skin was soft, velvet-smooth, but beneath that thin covering she could feel the undeniable hardness -- the pure, living strength coiled within him.

It was hot against her cooler skin, throbbing slightly with a pulse that matched -- or overwhelmed -- her own.

She wrapped her fingers around it -- tried to.

Her hand couldn't even close fully around the girth.

Her thumb and fingertips floated inches apart, helpless against the sheer thickness of him.

She gasped aloud, wonder and disbelief flooding her senses.

Jesus Christ.

It's thicker than my wrist.

It's over twice as thick as my husband at his hardest, and he's still not fully erect!

The comparison came unbidden, unwanted -- but it gutted her all the same.

She slid her hand along the shaft, slow and reverent, marvelling at the veins that twisted like rivers beneath the surface, at the impossible weight of him. The cock twitched at her touch -- a heavy, lazy flex of raw masculine power -- and her hand jerked slightly in shock, only to squeeze tighter instinctively.

The wedding ring flashed again.

Hannah froze for a moment, staring at it, feeling its accusing weight against her skin.

She could stop.

She could step back, apologise, end this madness.

But instead...

her hand gripped him tighter.

She began to stroke.

Slowly at first, exploring the sheer length of him, watching as he thickened and darkened before her eyes, as if swelling in response to her worship.

She cupped his balls gently with her other hand --

startled at their size, their heavy, primal heat. Each orb filled her palm completely, firm and full and vital, promising a virility she had only ever read about, never truly experienced.

Her hands worked together, sliding along the thickening shaft, marvelling at the growing hardness.

The head -- already fat and swollen -- flared wider, a deep, dusky plum of glistening flesh that crowned the beast she was holding.

It was growing rapidly now, pulsing in her hands, lengthening and thickening beyond even her wildest, forbidden dreams.

Her wedding ring brushed against a throbbing vein as she slid upward, and a shudder tore through her.

She bit her lip hard to suppress a moan.

What are you doing?

You're stroking your student's huge black cock -- and you love it.

AJ leaned back further on his hands, spreading his thighs wider, letting her admire him fully, openly -- offering himself to her like a prize she had already claimed.

"You like it, Mrs. B?" he asked, voice low and warm, rich with quiet pride.

Hannah could barely nod, her throat too tight, her heart hammering.

The heavy shaft throbbed in Hannah's hands, alive and pulsing, as she worked him slowly, reverently, up and down, feeling the slick heat building under her palms.

Her heart thundered in her chest. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. Every inch of her skin felt tight and hypersensitive, the world shrinking down to the massive cock she held and the hungry ache between her thighs.

Without thinking, driven by a raw, desperate hunger she'd never known before, Hannah leaned forward and pressed her lips against the thick, slick head once again -- firmer this time, more open. She kissed it like a lover, her soft, full mouth moulding itself around the swollen crown, feeling the heat radiate into her face.

A low, rumbling groan escaped AJ's chest -- not words, just a sound, primal and approving, vibrating through the thick meat of his body.

She licked along the ridge of the glistening head, savouring the heavy taste of him -- musky, salty, male -- intoxicating. Her tongue flicked into the leaking slit, collecting the beads of pre-cum that kept oozing out, warm and bitter and utterly addictive.

Hannah moaned softly against him, her body reacting on instinct, her thighs squeezing together as another pulse of wetness soaked through her bikini bottoms.

Her hands kept stroking, worshipping, sliding up and down the thick, veiny shaft. She opened her mouth wider -- wider than she thought she could -- her jaw already straining, trembling from the effort.

The head pressed against her lips -- and she pushed forward, sliding the wide crown past her lips into the tight wet heat of her mouth.

Immediately, her cheeks bulged obscenely around the thick shaft.

The stretch was unbearable -- exquisite -- her jaw aching, her muscles trembling. The taste of him filled her senses completely, rich and heavy and overwhelming.

She tried to breathe through her nose, tried to steady herself, but the sheer girth made it nearly impossible.

Her tongue flattened instinctively against the underside of his shaft, feeling the deep ridges of his veins, the silky heat of his skin, the heavy, throbbing pulse that seemed to demand her full surrender.

She slid her mouth down further, taking more of him -- inch by thick, impossible inch -- until the head nudged the back of her throat.

Her eyes watered instantly.

She gagged softly, pulling back a little, coughing around him, a trail of spit breaking from her lips to the glossy shaft.

"You're doing amazing, Hannah," AJ murmured above her, his hand resting lightly atop her head, not forcing, just there -- guiding, encouraging.

The sound of her name from his lips -- warm, possessive -- sent a fresh shudder of forbidden pleasure through her.

She tried again, more determined.

Opening wider, relaxing her throat as best she could, she pushed herself deeper.

Another inch slid into her mouth, stretching her beyond anything she had ever thought possible. Her jaw burned with effort. Her throat convulsed helplessly as the fat head pressed insistently against her gag reflex -- and then, miraculously, began to slip past.

She whimpered softly around him, the vibrations making AJ groan again, a deep, guttural sound of pleasure that made her entire body tremble.

Drool leaked freely from the corners of her mouth, running down her chin, mixing with the water still clinging to her skin, but she didn't care.

She needed more.

She needed to show him how much she wanted this, needed this.

She pulled back slightly, gasping for breath, saliva and pre-cum slicking his shaft, and then lunged forward again -- taking him deeper, wetter, sloppier.

The obscene wet sounds of her efforts filled the heavy afternoon air -- the desperate suction of her mouth, the slap of drool against his thighs, the soft, choked gags as she fought to swallow more of him.

AJ's thighs tensed on either side of her. His breath came harsher now, deeper.

"Fuck... Hannah... I'm close..."

She moaned around him, welcoming the warning, doubling her efforts.

Both her hands gripped his shaft now, stroking and twisting as her mouth worked furiously over the leaking, throbbing head.

And then she felt it -- the sudden, hard pulse against her tongue --

the thickening at the base of his cock --

the deep, primal groan vibrating from his chest.

He came with a force that stole her breath.

Hot, thick jets of cum erupted against her tongue, flooding her mouth instantly.

The first load hit the back of her throat, and she reflexively swallowed, desperate not to waste a single drop.

But it kept coming -- another heavy pulse, and another -- thick and salty and endless.

It filled her mouth, spilled from her lips, drooled down her chin and onto her chest, hot and sticky and shamefully delicious.

Still, she sucked and swallowed, moaning around him, milking every last spurt from his cock.

When the flow finally slowed, she let him slip from her aching mouth with a wet pop, gasping for breath, strands of saliva and cum stretching from her lips to his glistening shaft.

She wiped at her mouth uselessly, dazed, trembling, her face and chest slick with his seed.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of the pool lapping at the tiles, the distant hum of cicadas, and her own ragged breathing.

Then --

she looked down.

Her wedding ring caught the sun again.

The guilt slammed into her chest like a fist.

"Oh God..." she choked, scrambling backwards, water splashing wildly around her.

She clumsily pulled herself out of the pool, her limbs shaking, her body still slick with his cum and the clinging heat of her own betrayal.

"You need to go," she gasped, grabbing his shorts and tossing them toward him without meeting his eyes. "Please... just go."

AJ rose slowly, unhurried, powerful, utterly unashamed.

He pulled on his shorts, the thick outline of his still half-hard cock pressing against the fabric, and smiled at her --

a slow, knowing, devastating smile.

He said nothing.

He didn't need to.

He knew.

Hannah stood there, dripping, shaking, overwhelmed -- tasting him still on her tongue, feeling the heavy slickness between her thighs.

And deep inside her heart, deeper than the shame, deeper than the fear --

-- she knew too.

She would want him again.

She would need him again.

--------

The house was quiet.

Too quiet.

Hannah sat alone in the living room long after AJ had left, wrapped in a blanket she didn't need, the television flickering silently across the room without her really seeing it. Her body still tingled, hypersensitive to every phantom memory of what she had done.

The weight of his cock in her hands.

The impossible stretch of her jaw.

The thick, salty flood of his release, coating her tongue, her throat, her face.

The taste of him, musky and raw, still clinging stubbornly to her senses no matter how many times she had brushed her teeth.

Her stomach twisted violently. She clutched the blanket tighter around her, willing the guilt away, but it clung just as fiercely, worming its way into every corner of her heart. Her wedding ring dug into her palm where her hand was fisted tightly against her chest -- a cold, metallic accusation.

You're a married woman.

You swore vows.

You're not this person.

Tears blurred her vision, but she refused to let them fall. She had made a terrible mistake -- one moment of weakness, one catastrophic lapse in judgment -- but it didn't have to mean everything was ruined. If she stopped it now, if she put up a wall, if she ended it, maybe she could claw her way back to the life she was supposed to have.

Her hand trembled as she picked up her phone.

She opened the message app, found AJ's name, and typed with shaking fingers:

"Hi AJ, I'm so sorry, but I'm going to have to cancel tomorrow's session. I'll let you know when I can reschedule. Thanks for understanding."

Her thumb hovered over the send button for a long, paralysed moment. She felt like she was standing at the edge of a cliff, heart hammering against her ribs, knowing that one tiny movement would send her plummeting into the abyss.

She squeezed her eyes shut -- and pressed send.

The message disappeared into the digital ether.

It was done.

She tossed the phone onto the coffee table as if it burned her, then buried her face in her hands. If she could just get through the night -- if she could just sleep -- maybe the morning would bring clarity. Strength. Forgiveness.

But sleep was no refuge.

The dreams came.

At first, it was just heat -- thick, suffocating, heavy.

Then shadows. Movement. Hands, rough and sure, sliding over her bare skin. A deep voice murmuring her name, the syllables heavy with possession and hunger.

When the figure stepped from the shadows, there was no mistaking him.

AJ.

His dark, powerful body gleamed with sweat, muscles rippling under golden light. His cock jutted proudly from his hips, enormous, thick, pulsing with life.

She sank to her knees before him without hesitation, mouth open, hands reaching, desperate to taste him, to please him, to be filled by him.

He gripped her hair roughly and guided her onto his cock, stretching her lips wide, forcing her to take more, and more, and more --

until her throat bulged obscenely, until her nose was pressed against his hard stomach, until she couldn't breathe but didn't care.

She woke up gasping, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, her hand wedged between her thighs, her fingers slick with her own shameful wetness.

She yanked her hand away as if burned, choking on a sob.

The room spun around her.

Her body ached, her nipples ached, her pussy pulsed with frantic, desperate need.

She couldn't do this.

She couldn't be this woman.

Day 5

Morning arrived grey and heavy.

Hannah moved through the house like a ghost, showering, dressing, making coffee she didn't drink. She tried to busy herself with chores, emails, errands -- anything to drown out the throbbing hunger that gnawed at her from the inside out.

But it was useless.

Every thought led back to him.

The stretch of his cock in her hands.

The taste of him on her tongue.

The low rumble of his groan when she sucked him deeper.

She needed something -- anything -- to silence the craving clawing at her.

Clive.

Of course. Her husband. Her anchor. Her lifeline back to normal.

That evening, she made an effort.

She put on the baby-blue lingerie set he once said he loved, the one that hugged her curves and made her feel young again. She sprayed her favourite perfume at her wrists, behind her ears. She dimmed the bedroom lights, lit a candle.

When Clive came home, tired and distracted, she met him at the door with a soft kiss and a slow, teasing smile.

"Hey, handsome" she whispered against his lips, her hand sliding down to cup the front of his pants.

He chuckled wearily. "Wow, what's gotten into you?"

"I missed you," she said, pressing her body against his.

She led him by the hand upstairs, trying to stir some excitement, trying to remember what it used to feel like when she touched him.

They kissed awkwardly, her hands moving over him, pulling at his clothes, trying to coax his body into responding.

When she finally tugged his boxers down, her heart sank.

His cock -- once enough -- now looked heartbreakingly small.

Soft, pale, shrivelled.

Barely three inches even when she worked her hand up and down gently.

Compared to AJ --

Compared to the thick, dark monster she had worshipped with her mouth just yesterday --

Clive's cock looked like a pathetic, wilted thing.

She swallowed her despair and tried harder, stroking him, kissing him, whispering filthy things into his ear.

But he barely stiffened.

His breathing stayed shallow and distracted.

After a few minutes, he sighed and pulled away, running a hand over his thinning hair.

"Sorry, babe," he muttered. "Work's been brutal. Just too much stress lately."

He flopped onto his side, back to her, pulling the covers up without another word.

Within minutes, he was snoring softly.

Hannah sat up in the dim light, wrapping her arms around herself.

Her body ached for fulfilment.

Her heart ached for something she couldn't name.

She stared at the wedding ring on her finger, twisting it slowly, feeling the crushing loneliness of the bed beside her.

For the first time in her marriage, she realised:

There was only one man who could give her what she craved now.

And it wasn't her husband.

Her phone buzzed on the counter.

Her heart stuttered as she grabbed to pick it up.

AJ:

"Hey Mrs B. You want me there tomorrow? Same time?"

Simple. Casual. No pressure.

She stared at the screen, pulse pounding between her thighs.

Every instinct screamed at her to say no.

To protect herself.

To protect what little was left of her marriage, her dignity, her soul.

But her thumbs moved anyway.

"1pm is perfect. See you then."

She set the phone down carefully, as if it were a bomb about to detonate.

And in a way... it was.

Day 6

The afternoon sun baked the stone patio, the scent of jasmine and chlorine thick in the still air. Hannah sat rigid in her deck chair, a textbook open across her lap, though the words blurred together uselessly before her eyes. She had dressed with deliberate care that morning -- modest, protective -- a loose linen blouse that floated just past her hips, casual denim shorts that offered coverage without clinging too desperately to her skin. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. No makeup, no perfume. No weapons to invite danger.

But the moment AJ strolled through the garden gate, all her careful defences crumbled like sandcastles under a rising tide.

He was breathtaking.

Tall, broad, commanding -- six-foot-three of sheer, devastating masculinity. His deep brown skin gleamed under the sun, his black curls catching tiny beads of sweat. He wore only a snug black t-shirt stretched across his powerful chest and loose athletic shorts that hinted at the carved muscles underneath. His smile, when he spotted her, was brilliant -- easy, warm, yet somehow electric.

Hannah's heart flipped violently against her ribs.

It wasn't fair. He shouldn't be allowed to look at her like that -- like he knew what she had dreamed about last night, like he knew how her body still ached for him.

"Afternoon, Mrs B," he said, setting his bag down beside the table. His voice was low, rich, threading through her stomach like warm honey.

"Afternoon, AJ," she managed, forcing a bright, brittle smile onto her lips.

They fell into the lesson, mechanically at first. AJ was patient, his questions thoughtful, his tone encouraging. Hannah tried desperately to focus, to bury herself in grammar exercises and essay critiques. But she was hyper-aware of every tiny shift -- the stretch of fabric over his shoulders when he leaned forward, the glimpse of taut stomach when he reached for his water bottle, the way his powerful thighs flexed when he adjusted in his chair.

Her pulse drummed low between her legs.

The air itself seemed charged, shimmering with a thick, unseen weight.

After nearly an hour, AJ snapped his book closed with an easy clap.

"Break time," he said, standing and stretching, his t-shirt riding up to reveal the sharp cut of his obliques.

Hannah blinked up at him, flustered. "We--we still have some exercises--"

He grinned. "They'll keep."

She could only watch, helpless, as he stripped the t-shirt over his head and tossed it onto the chair. His chest was obscene in its perfection -- broad, thickly muscled, glistening slightly under the heat. His arms, those dark, powerful arms she had felt around her body before, rippled as he pushed his fingers through his hair.

Hannah's mouth dried. She clutched the book tighter against her lap, as if it could shield her from the surge of heat crawling over her skin.

AJ walked toward the pool, his loose shorts clinging damply to his hips. At the edge, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband -- and paused.

He glanced over his shoulder, catching her wide, frozen stare, and his grin deepened into something slower, darker, knowing.

Without a word, he peeled the shorts down and off.

Naked.

Completely, gloriously naked.

Hannah's heart stopped. She couldn't look away even if she had wanted to. Thick, long even while soft, swinging slightly with each step. It was monstrous, intimidating... mesmerising.

Not even the same species, she thought numbly, the comparison to Clive flashing brutally through her mind. Not a man. A god.

AJ dove cleanly into the pool with barely a splash, disappearing beneath the glittering blue surface.

Hannah sat paralysed in her chair, the book sliding forgotten to the ground beside her. She watched, throat dry and aching, as AJ sliced through the water effortlessly, muscles bunching and flexing with every powerful stroke.

He surfaced with a shake of his head, droplets cascading down his dark skin like jewels. He treaded water easily, floating lazily on his back for a moment before flipping over and swimming back toward the shallows.

He caught her staring -- didn't even pretend not to notice.

"You're not joining me?" he called, voice teasing and rich.

"I..." Hannah stammered, gripping the arms of the chair so tightly her knuckles whitened. "I don't think that's... a good idea."

AJ chuckled softly, that deep rumble of sound wrapping around her like a velvet rope. He shrugged and turned back to his swimming, letting her watch the powerful play of his muscles under the sunlight, his naked form moving with casual, devastating grace.

She couldn't tear her eyes away.

Every instinct screamed for her to run inside, lock the door, hide from the temptation he offered so easily, so effortlessly.

But she stayed.

Watching.

AJ rose from the pool, water sheeting off his powerful body in shimmering rivulets. He didn't wrap himself in the towel -- just slung it casually over his shoulder, his magnificent cock swinging heavily between his thighs.

And he smiled -- patient, confident, devastating.

Hannah sat frozen, every nerve in her body lit with a feverish energy. Her hands clenched in her lap, but her eyes -- traitorous, hungry -- devoured him.

"You're tense, Mrs B," he said lightly, stepping closer.

Before she could stammer out an excuse, AJ lowered himself onto the lounge chair behind her, his legs bracketing her hips, his body surrounding her like a storm cloud of heat. His big hands settled firmly on her bare shoulders.

The first touch was like fire licking along her spine.

Warm, strong, confident -- he kneaded her muscles with slow, deliberate pressure. She tried to stay still, tried to pretend this was innocent -- but the sound that slipped from her throat was anything but.

A soft, needy moan.

He didn't tease her about it. He simply continued, patient, methodical, rubbing the tension from her shoulders, her arms, sliding his palms down her sides until she trembled under his hands.

Her blouse was loose -- it had been her armour -- but now it fell open under his exploration, the buttons undone without her even noticing when. She gasped softly as the fabric slid from her shoulders, revealing her breasts fully to the humid afternoon air.

They were full and heavy, still perky despite their size, with a gentle natural sway that made her feel suddenly, achingly exposed.

Her pale skin contrasted beautifully with the deep flush blooming across her chest.

Her nipples stiffened immediately -- pink, tender, and achingly erect -- beading so tight it almost hurt.

They seemed to beg for attention, for worship, and she felt herself shudder under the weight of his gaze without him even touching her yet.

AJ's fingers trailed lightly over her ribs, reverent, almost worshipful.

He said nothing.

But she felt it -- the ownership in every slow, measured stroke.

Her shorts were next -- unfastened, peeled down her hips, leaving her in only the damp, clinging bikini bottoms. She made a weak sound of protest, but it died instantly when his hands smoothed up her thighs, coaxing her body open, relaxing her into submission.

She knew she should stop him.

She knew it.

Her wedding ring glinted accusingly on her finger as her hands twisted in the towel across her lap.

But her body... her traitorous, desperate body... made no move to resist.

AJ leaned forward, breath warm against her ear.

"You made me feel good yesterday," he murmured, his voice low and thick with meaning. "Let me return the favour."

Before she could answer, his hands slid to her hips, guiding her to lie back against the lounge chair. She obeyed without thought, her thighs parting instinctively, offering herself up.

AJ knelt between her legs -- so wide, so dark, so strong -- and in one devastatingly slow motion, he hooked his fingers into the sides of her bikini bottoms and dragged them down.

The sun kissed every inch of her nakedness as the final barrier was stripped away.

For a breathless moment, he just looked at her.

Her glistening, aching pussy -- so wet, so swollen, so ready -- exposed fully to his hungry gaze.

Hannah whimpered, shame and excitement crashing together violently inside her.

She should have been humiliated.

Instead, she was throbbing with need so fierce it bordered on pain.

AJ lowered his head -- and the first slow swipe of his tongue over her clit made her cry out.

Her hips jerked up helplessly, chasing the heat of his mouth.

He licked her again, slower, firmer, his tongue broad and flat, dragging over the sensitive nub until her vision blurred. His fingers spread her open wider, holding her there, exposing her, feasting on her like a starving man.

The sounds escaped her -- broken moans, gasps, whispered cries she couldn't control.

"Ahhh... oh god... AJ..."

Her voice was breathless, pleading, lost.

His tongue flicked, circled, sucked her clit until she was panting, writhing beneath him.

Her hands fisted helplessly in his hair, trying to push him away, trying to pull him closer -- she didn't know which -- only that she needed more.

When he slid two thick fingers inside her, curling perfectly to stroke her G-spot, Hannah shattered.

Her orgasm detonated through her with the force of a hurricane. It ripped up from deep inside her, a wild, raw explosion she had no control over.

Her toes curled, calves spasming uncontrollably as her hips jerked against AJ's relentless mouth.

Her pussy clenched and spasmed around his fingers, squeezing, pulsing in rapid desperate waves.

Her heart slammed against her ribs, thundering in her ears louder than her moans.

Her entire body felt like it was on fire -- too hot, too sensitive, too overwhelmed -- and still the pleasure kept building.

She could feel the slick, obscene wetness pouring from her, coating AJ's face, his chin, his lips -- and he devoured her mess hungrily, like it was the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted.

Hannah's hands fisted helplessly in his hair, tugging, needing, begging without words for something she didn't even understand anymore.

She wasn't thinking. She wasn't fighting.

She was burning alive -- and it was glorious.

She sobbed his name -- not her husband's, not even thinking of her husband -- only AJ.

"A-AJ... please... oh god, please don't stop..."

The pleasure was endless, rolling over her in brutal, delicious waves.

AJ didn't stop.

He devoured her through it, his tongue and fingers orchestrating her body like an instrument, dragging her into a second orgasm, then a third, until she was limp, boneless, whimpering in his arms.

Only then did he rise, slow and deliberate, towering over her trembling body.

He reached down, took his heavy, thick cock in hand -- and laid it across her stomach.

Hannah gasped.

It was so hot against her skin. So heavy. The thick, veiny length of him stretched from her pubic bone all the way to her navel -- thick and pulsing, leaving no doubt how utterly, monstrously he would fill her.

AJ leaned closer, his cock grinding softly against her belly, his balls nudging against her soaked entrance.

"Look at it, Hannah," he murmured, voice low and sinful.

"Look how deep I would be inside you."

Tears pricked at her eyes.

She could feel her pussy pulsing hungrily against the weight of his cock. Her hips shifted, seeking more friction, more pressure, betraying every desperate need she couldn't voice.

Her wedding ring flashed again -- and this time it cut her like a blade.

With a broken sob, she shoved herself up, grabbing the towel, wrapping it around her naked, shaking body.

"I can't... We can't..." she gasped, voice cracking under the weight of her devastation.

"I'm married..."

She stumbled away, barefoot, dripping wet, half-naked, fleeing into the house.

AJ watched her go -- his cock proud, leaking, glistening against his abs -- and smiled softly.

Not angry.

Not impatient.

Patient.

Because he knew the truth now --

She was already his.

Day 7

The morning air was already thick and humid when Hannah Bloomfield stirred awake, her skin flushed, her sheets twisted around her bare legs. Dreams still clung to her -- filthy, heated things -- images of AJ's strong, dark body towering over her, his hands gripping her hips, his mouth devouring her breasts until she cried out in pleasure. She stretched lazily, a slow, knowing smile curving her lips. Today was the last day. Today, she would have him.

He had wanted her from the beginning -- she had seen it, felt it in every lingering glance, every smile, every unspoken promise hanging thick between them. The games were over. She was done pretending she was helpless, done playing the innocent housewife teetering on the edge. Today, she would tempt him until he couldn't resist.

Humming softly to herself, Hannah stepped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over her sensitive skin. She moved slowly, methodically, shaving every inch, leaving herself silky smooth and soft, polished and ready. Even the touch of her own hands against her thighs and hips sent shivers through her body. By the time she wrapped herself in a towel and moved to the mirror, she was already tingling with anticipation, her nipples visibly hardened, her sex slick and needy.

She chose her outfit with deliberate care: a pale yellow tank top, so thin that her stiff nipples were already poking through the fabric, and a pair of tiny white shorts that clung to her curves, hugging her hips and ass so tightly they seemed painted on. She left her skin bare underneath, no bra to hide the obvious swell of her breasts, no panties to disguise how ready she was. Her hair she left loose and tousled, a messy, effortless wave, and she applied only the slightest hint of makeup, enough to give her a warm glow. She stepped back and surveyed herself in the mirror, feeling a jolt of triumph. She looked incredible. Irresistible.

He wouldn't stand a chance.

Her heart began to pound faster as she gathered up AJ's lesson materials, barely glancing at the worksheets. Today's "study session" was a joke. She wasn't here to learn, and AJ wouldn't be here to teach. She pictured it clearly -- the moment he arrived, the way his eyes would darken when he saw her, the way his hands would grip her, unable to stop himself. She imagined him slamming her up against the wall, stripping her bare in the sunshine, fucking her so hard the world fell away.

A delicious pulse throbbed between her legs at the thought, and she found herself biting her lower lip as she set up the lounge chairs on the patio, laying out the textbooks just for appearance's sake. Every few seconds her gaze flickered toward the driveway, listening for the deep growl of his truck.

When she heard it -- that familiar, low rumble -- her body went rigid, alive with energy. She smoothed her palms over the tiny white shorts, tugged at the tank top in a vain attempt to look casual, and drew in a slow, steadying breath.

He'll take one look at me and lose it, she thought. He won't be able to resist.

And when he did -- when he finally touched her the way she had dreamed about, needed -- Hannah wouldn't stop him. Not today. Not ever again. She was already his, and now it was time for him to claim her properly.

The rumble of AJ's truck faded as he parked, and Hannah forced herself to stay still, casually seated on the lounge chair with a book half-opened on her lap. Her heart thundered with anticipation. She imagined him stepping around the corner, seeing her, stopping in his tracks, the heat of his gaze devouring her.

But when he appeared, striding across the patio toward her, AJ didn't falter.

He didn't double-take, didn't gape, didn't even break stride.

He just smiled -- that warm, brilliant smile -- and called out, "Morning, Hannah. Ready for our last session?"

Her mouth parted slightly.

That was it?

No pause?

No hunger flashing in his eyes?

He set his bag down by the table, rolling his broad shoulders easily, the muscles of his arms flexing under his T-shirt, the dark golden skin gleaming faintly in the morning sun. Hannah's eyes hungrily traced every line of him -- the tall, powerful frame, the easy strength in every movement -- and her nipples ached visibly against the thin fabric of her top.

She shifted in her chair, crossing one bare leg over the other, letting her shorts ride higher. "Sure... I'm ready," she said, trying to inject a subtle purr into her voice.

AJ pulled up a chair beside her, flipping open his notebook as if this were any ordinary day. "Good. Let's start with that essay outline we talked about."

Hannah blinked at him, stunned. Essay outline?

She leaned forward slightly, pretending to look at the paper -- letting her breasts sway beneath the thin tank top -- but he didn't react. Not even a flicker of distraction. Her stomach tightened, frustration simmering hot beneath her skin. Was he playing dumb? Or had she misread everything?

They went through the motions of studying, but Hannah couldn't focus. Every time he leaned close, his scent wrapped around her -- clean sweat, sun-warmed skin, something dark and male and completely intoxicating. Every time his arm brushed hers, electricity sizzled down her spine.

She licked her lips without thinking, shifted again in her seat, letting her thigh graze against his knee beneath the table.

Still nothing.

Nothing except that damn easy smile, that maddening composure.

She wanted to scream.

She wanted to tear his clothes off.

She wanted him to throw her down and claim her like she already belonged to him.

Instead, he just kept reading aloud from his notebook, perfectly focused, his deep voice washing over her like molten honey.

Hannah's hand trembled slightly as she reached for her water bottle. She squeezed her thighs together beneath the table, desperate for some kind of friction. Her whole body pulsed with need, her pussy slick and throbbing, nipples painfully hard.

This wasn't fair. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

She was dressed like a fucking fantasy. Practically begging him to notice her. And he was acting like nothing was different at all.

AJ looked up from the notebook, cocking his head slightly.

"You okay?" he asked, voice warm, casual, like he had no idea she was about to explode.

"I'm fine," she managed, her voice breathy, too high.

He smiled at her again -- slow, easy -- and something in his eyes glinted for just a second.

He knew. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

Hannah's cheeks flushed hot with humiliation and fury and aching, desperate need.

Her body throbbed, every nerve ending screaming for him.

Enough.

If he wasn't going to take her -- she would take him.

She set the water bottle down with deliberate care, stood up slowly, and moved toward him, her heart hammering in her chest.

His eyes tracked her now -- lazy, amused, like a lion watching a mouse scurry closer to its jaws.

When she stood directly in front of him, barely a foot away, she saw the heat buried under his calm exterior. His nostrils flared slightly, his hands flexed on his thighs.

She stepped even closer, until her knees brushed his, and then -- daring herself, daring him -- she reached out and placed one trembling hand on his broad chest.

"Please, AJ," she whispered, her voice breaking.

"I can't take it anymore."

AJ didn't move at first. He sat there, still and relaxed, letting her trembling hand press against his chest, letting her shuddering breath wash over him. His eyes locked on hers, dark and steady, filled with something that made her knees threaten to buckle. He was giving her the chance to back away. To run. To take it all back.

But Hannah didn't move either.

She couldn't.

Her body was alive with fire, her skin electric under the heat of his gaze. She needed him to touch her. Needed it like air, like blood.

AJ's hand came up slowly, wrapping around her wrist, his touch firm but not forceful. His thumb stroked a single, deliberate line over her racing pulse, and Hannah's breath caught in her throat. She felt pinned in place by the sheer weight of his presence, her legs weak, her thighs hot and wet with need.

"You sure about this, Hannah?" His voice was low, almost tender, but there was no mistaking the steel underneath.

She nodded, her mouth too dry to speak. Her heart thundered in her ears.

"I need to hear it," he said, his hand still circling her wrist, his thumb still driving her crazy with that slow, maddening stroke.

"I want you," she whispered, and then, with more strength, more truth: "I need you, AJ. Please."

Something shifted behind his eyes.

The easy, playful boy she had teased and tutored was gone.

What sat before her now was a man -- powerful, relentless, and absolutely certain of what he was about to take.

AJ rose to his feet slowly, towering over her, and Hannah tipped her head back instinctively, her breath coming in shallow pants. He cupped her face in his large, calloused hands, and for a moment, he just looked at her -- like he was memorising her, branding her in his mind.

Then he kissed her.

It wasn't gentle. It wasn't careful. It was claiming.

His mouth slanted over hers, hot and hungry, his tongue thrusting deep, and Hannah whimpered against him, clutching at his shirt, desperate to get closer. She opened for him shamelessly, letting him take everything, letting him plunder her mouth until her head spun and her knees buckled and the only thing holding her upright was the iron strength of his arms around her.

AJ broke the kiss with a low growl of satisfaction, and then his hands were on her body -- tugging the thin tank top up and over her head in one smooth motion, baring her naked breasts to the open air. He stepped back a fraction, letting his gaze devour her fully, and the heat in his eyes made her moan softly in embarrassment and pride.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he rasped, and then he was on her again, his mouth closing around one tight, aching nipple, sucking hard, sending shockwaves straight to her core.

Hannah gasped, her hands threading desperately through his hair as he feasted on her breasts, lavishing each one in turn until she was panting, squirming, grinding against the hard ridge of his thigh between her legs.

AJ's hands slid down her body, rough and sure, gripping the curve of her hips, the round swell of her ass, before yanking her tiny shorts down her legs and tossing them aside.

She stood before him now completely naked, trembling, shameless, drenched in arousal.

And he hadn't even truly touched her yet.

AJ stepped back slightly, his eyes raking over her nakedness, and then -- slowly, deliberately -- he pulled his T-shirt over his head, revealing the full glory of his body to her gaze. His skin gleamed dark and flawless, stretched taut over the thick slabs of his chest, the heavy ropes of muscle in his arms. His shoulders were impossibly broad, his waist narrow, his stomach carved into deep, perfect abs that flexed with every slow breath he drew. Sweat beaded along the lines of his body, catching the light and making him look like a living, breathing god.

Hannah felt her breath leave her in a long, shuddering sigh. Her mouth watered. Her thighs pressed together unconsciously, trying to quell the desperate throb between them. He was magnificent.

He reached casually for the waistband of his shorts -- and without thinking, she moved.

"No," she said softly, her voice hoarse with need.

AJ stilled immediately, his dark eyes locking onto hers, questioning but calm.

Before she could lose her nerve, Hannah stepped forward, heart hammering, and dropped to her knees at his feet.

She lifted her gaze up to him, wide blue eyes shining with heat and surrender, and she placed her hands gently on his hips.

"That's my job now," she whispered, and there was no mistaking the reverence in her voice.

AJ's jaw tightened, the muscle flexing once, but he said nothing.

He simply let his hands fall to his sides, offering himself to her.

Hannah's fingers moved to the button of his shorts, working it open with trembling urgency. She eased the zipper down, every sound loud in the charged silence between them, then tugged the fabric past his hips. His boxers came down with them in one smooth motion.

And there it was.

There he was.

His cock swung free and thick between his thighs like a weapon.

The shaft was as dark as the rest of him, thickly veined, crowned with a wide, flared head that looked almost too large for her mouth. His heavy, full set of balls hung low beneath it, each one the size of a small fist, thick and weighty and full.

Hannah's mouth went dry. Her pussy clenched around nothing, desperate and aching.

The sheer size of him should have scared her -- and it did, a little -- but it only made her hunger sharper, more frantic.

Without thinking, without even using her hands, she lowered her head and pressed her open mouth against the head of his cock.

AJ groaned low in his throat, a sound that made her shiver. His hand came to rest lightly on the back of her head, not pushing, not forcing -- just there, a heavy, possessive weight.

She sucked gently at first, lips sealed around the broad crown, letting her tongue swirl over the sensitive skin. He twitched against her, and she felt him begin to swell, thickening and hardening, filling her mouth slowly, gloriously.

Maintaining eye contact the entire time, Hannah pushed herself deeper, letting the head stretch her lips, her jaw already aching from the effort. She pulled back with a wet slurp, her own saliva coating him now, making the dark shaft shine in the sunlight.

She started to work him in earnest then -- slow, greedy sucks, swirling her tongue along the underside, tracing every vein, every ridge. She hollowed her cheeks, letting him slide deeper, relaxing her throat to take as much of him as she could, though he was too thick, too wide for her to ever manage more than a few blessed inches at a time.

AJ's breathing deepened, his fingers flexing against her scalp, but he still held back, letting her set the pace, letting her worship him the way she needed to.

The sounds filled the patio -- soft wet slurps, the quiet, obscene pop each time she pulled back to catch her breath, the faint broken groans AJ couldn't quite suppress.

Hannah loved it.

Loved the weight of him on her tongue.

Loved the way he tasted -- salty, masculine, a little musky but clean, utterly addictive.

She lost track of time, lost herself completely in the act, in the heat building between them, in the way he was growing impossibly harder, impossibly thicker against her tongue.

When she finally pulled off him with a loud, wet gasp, a thick strand of saliva connected her swollen lips to the leaking head of his cock.

She looked up at him, flushed and panting, her lipstick smeared, her mouth red and tender.

"I think you're ready now," she whispered, her voice trembling with lust.

And without waiting for permission, Hannah stood, backed up to the lounge chair, and lay back, spreading her thighs shamelessly wide for him.

Her body was pink and flushed, her nipples stiff and begging for attention, her pussy glistening, open and desperate.

AJ stared down at her like a starving man, his cock bobbing heavily with every shallow breath he took.

Slowly, like a predator savouring the kill, he approached.

Hannah's legs parted wider without her even thinking about it, welcoming him in, needing him, offering herself completely.

When AJ reached her, he didn't rush. He knelt between her open thighs, one large hand running slowly up her inner thigh, over the slick heat of her folds, making her writhe and whimper.

His body hovered above hers, hot, massive, a wall of dark muscle ready to crush her -- to protect her -- to take her apart and remake her.

Their mouths met again, messy and consuming, tongues tangling, both of them lost to the heat and urgency.

And as AJ shifted his hips lower, positioning himself at her entrance, Hannah felt the thick, slick head of his cock nudge against her soaked folds.

Her whole body shuddered, her heart thundering against her ribs.

This was it.

There was no going back.

She was about to be claimed -- utterly, completely, devastatingly -- by the man who had undone her life and rebuilt her hunger from the inside out.

And she wanted it more than she had ever wanted anything.

AJ's cock pressed insistently at her entrance, thick and throbbing, the blunt, slick head teasing her soaked folds. Hannah whimpered against his mouth, writhing beneath him, desperate to be filled.

"Please," she gasped, breaking the kiss, arching her back, grinding herself shamelessly against the thick heat of him.

"You want it, baby?" AJ growled against her neck, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through her bones. His cock slid up and down her folds, gathering her wetness, teasing her swollen clit with maddening slow friction.

"I need it," she sobbed. "Please, AJ, fuck me. Take me. Make me yours."

His lips curled into a wicked smile against her throat.

"You already are, Hannah," he said, and then -- with a powerful thrust of his hips -- he drove the thick head of his cock into her tight, dripping pussy.

Hannah screamed.

There was no other word for it -- a raw, desperate scream torn from her lungs as her body struggled to stretch around his sheer size. He was splitting her open, forcing her to take him inch by inch, filling her deeper than she had ever thought possible.

AJ gritted his teeth, breathing heavily through his nose as he sank deeper, forcing her to accept him.

"You're so fucking tight," he snarled. "Goddamn, Hannah. Your pussy was made for my cock."

She sobbed and clutched at his back, nails digging into the thick muscles as she tried to pull him even deeper. The wet sounds of her pussy struggling to accommodate him were obscene, loud and messy in the humid air.

"Stretching me," she cried out, her head thrashing against the lounge chair. "Oh God, AJ, you're stretching me so fucking much!"

"Take it," he growled, grabbing her hips in both hands and slamming the last few inches inside her in one brutal, merciless thrust.

Hannah screamed again, high and desperate, her legs kicking out before wrapping around his waist, trying to hold him inside her.

Skin slapped against skin, loud and rhythmic, as AJ began to move.

Deep, brutal strokes at first -- slow enough to drive her insane, hard enough to make her breasts bounce with every thrust.

"You feel that, baby?" he panted against her ear. "Feel how deep I am? No one else will ever fill you like this."

"Never," she sobbed. "Only you. Only your cock, AJ!"

He fucked her harder at her words, the slap of their bodies echoing around the patio, her moans rising louder with every brutal thrust.

"You're dripping all over me," he said with a low, filthy chuckle. "So fucking wet, so messy. You love this big black cock tearing you apart, don't you?"

"Yes!" she screamed. "I love it! I love it! I'm yours!"

AJ shifted slightly, adjusting the angle, and the head of his cock dragged against the sweet spot deep inside her, and Hannah's whole body convulsed.

"I'm cumming!" she screamed, thrashing underneath him, her pussy clamping down so hard he almost lost it right then.

Her orgasm ripped through her like a lightning bolt -- her vision going white, her body locking up before a violent gush of fluid exploded from her pussy, soaking both of them.

"Fuck, baby," AJ groaned, looking down in awe. "You squirted all over my cock."

He didn't stop.

He didn't even slow down.

As her body trembled and jerked beneath him, AJ flipped her over onto her hands and knees with a rough growl, his hands gripping her hips bruisingly tight.

"You're not done yet," he said. "I'm gonna fuck you until you can't walk."

He slammed back inside her in one savage stroke, and Hannah cried out, her voice cracking from the force of it.

Her breasts bounced wildly with every thrust, her wet pussy squelching obscenely around his cock, juices running down her thighs.

"Harder, AJ!" she begged, pushing back against him, meeting every brutal stroke with a desperate, wanton need.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back so he could growl into her ear.

"Say it. Say who owns this pussy."

"You do!" she sobbed. "You own me! You own my pussy!"

He fucked her even harder at her words, his balls slapping against her dripping cunt with every merciless thrust.

The sounds were disgusting, beautiful -- wet and loud and raw.

AJ shifted again, reaching around to pinch and circle her clit with his rough fingers, sending her hurtling toward another orgasm.

She screamed as she came again, her pussy spasming violently around his thick cock, another gush of liquid squirting out, soaking his balls, dripping down her legs.

"Good girl," he growled. "That's it. Cum for me. Make a fucking mess."

He pulled out suddenly, grabbing her waist and flipping her onto her back again. He hovered above her, his cock thick and slick and angry-looking, dripping precum onto her stomach.

"You're not done yet," he said again, and then he drove back inside her with a brutal thrust that punched a cry from her lips.

He pounded into her, faster, rougher now, using her body without mercy, and Hannah gave herself up to it completely -- moaning, sobbing, gasping his name over and over again.

"I'm gonna cum," AJ panted, his hands bruising her hips. "You want it, baby? You want me to fill you?"

"Yes! Please! Cum inside me! Fill me, AJ!"

With a final, shattering roar, he slammed deep and held himself there, his cock jerking violently as he flooded her with thick, hot cum.

She felt it -- wave after wave, spilling into her, coating her insides, leaking out around his still-pulsing shaft.

AJ collapsed onto her, careful to hold most of his weight up on trembling arms, his forehead pressed against hers, both of them gasping for breath.

But he wasn't finished.

She felt him still hard inside her, still throbbing, still fucking ready.

And as he began to move again -- slow, deep strokes, driving his cum even deeper into her -- Hannah realised she wasn't finished either.

She never would be.

She needed more.

Her hips started to move, slow at first -- grinding up against him, milking him, greedy for every last pulse of his cock.

AJ groaned low in his chest, his hands sliding rough over her thighs, her hips, encouraging her, guiding her.

"Fuck, baby," he rasped against her ear. "You're insatiable."

Hannah smiled drunkenly, deliriously, her body on fire.

She pushed against his chest with small, urgent hands. AJ got the message. He rolled onto his back, taking her with him, letting her straddle him fully.

For a moment, she just stared down at him -- this glorious, gleaming giant of a man. His body slick with sweat, muscles tense and twitching. His massive cock buried inside her, stretching her, filling her. His hands gripped her thighs possessively, spreading her wider, keeping her impaled on him.

"You're so fucking beautiful like this," he growled, his eyes devouring her nakedness. "Riding my cock like a good little slut."

A moan tore from Hannah's throat at his words -- filthy, degrading, and so goddamn arousing.

She began to move.

Slow at first -- rocking her hips, grinding down hard on him, feeling every thick inch rub against the sensitive walls of her drenched pussy. Her hands found his hard chest, nails digging in, her head tipping back in raw ecstasy.

"That's it, baby," AJ said, his voice thick with lust. His big hands cupped her swaying tits, squeezing them roughly, rolling her nipples between his fingers until she cried out. "Show me how much you love this big cock."

"I love it," she gasped, bouncing harder now, riding him in deep, slow plunges that had her tits bouncing wildly in his hands. "I fucking love your big black cock, AJ. Nothing's ever felt like this. Nothing's ever stretched me so good."

AJ groaned, thrusting up into her now, matching her frantic rhythm, their bodies slamming together with wet, obscene sounds.

"Look at you," he growled. "Riding me like a goddamn porn star. Milking my balls. Taking every fucking inch."

"You're so big," she sobbed, pounding down harder, desperate now. "So deep. God, AJ -- no one's ever been this deep!... No one's come close... Only you AJ. Only this cock of yours!"

He grabbed her hips and started driving up into her, using his strength to control the pace, forcing her to take every brutal, punishing thrust.

"You're mine now," he snarled, each word punctuated by a savage thrust. "This pussy's mine."

"Yours!" Hannah screamed. "I'm yours! I love your cock! I love it! Make me cum, AJ, please!"

Their bodies were a mess -- wet skin slapping, sticky with sweat, cum leaking from between her thighs, dripping onto his abs, coating them in filth and need.

Hannah rode him harder, faster, desperate to wring every last drop from him, her hands braced on his chest, her head thrown back in total surrender.

The pressure inside her built like a storm -- swelling, swirling, unbearable.

"I'm gonna cum," she sobbed, her whole body trembling, her pussy clenching violently around his massive cock. "Cum with me, AJ, please, fill me again, fill me up!"

"Fuck, Hannah, fuck, baby," he grunted, slamming up into her, losing control, feeling her pussy milking him, squeezing the life out of him.

They both shattered together --

AJ roaring her name, grabbing her ass and slamming her down onto him one final time as his cock erupted inside her, flooding her with a second, even bigger load.

Hannah screamed wordlessly, the orgasm tearing through her like an earthquake, her pussy squirting again, soaking his cock, their thighs, the sun lounger beneath them.

She collapsed forward onto his chest, boneless, gasping, sobbing, her body still wracked with aftershocks.

AJ wrapped his arms around her tightly, cradling her against him, his cock still twitching inside her, his cum leaking out in thick, messy streams.

For a long time, they just lay there -- tangled, sticky, utterly wrecked.

Hannah's mind floated somewhere between exhaustion and euphoria.

She could feel the warm, wet trickle of his seed dripping out of her abused pussy, feel the throb of her overstimulated clit, feel the steady, powerful beat of his heart against her cheek.

She was ruined.

And she loved it.

"You're incredible," she whispered against his chest, still breathless, still dizzy.

"You're... you're everything."

AJ kissed the top of her head, his hands stroking her hair, his voice a low rumble.

"You're mine now, baby," he said. "All fucking mine."

And Hannah, shattered and blissed-out, smiled against his skin.

Because it was true. She would never be the same again.

And she never wanted to be.

Graduation

They stood on her doorstep, the golden light of the setting sun bathing them in warmth, making the world feel soft and slow and unreal.

Hannah was still flushed, still trembling, her blouse hastily thrown over her naked body, her hair wild from AJ's hands, her lips swollen from his kisses. She looked wrecked, radiant, utterly, shamelessly happy.

AJ leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her mouth -- a kiss that said everything words couldn't.

Ownership.

Gratitude.

Promise.

She clung to him, reluctant to let him go.

"Same time tomorrow?" she whispered against his lips, her voice breathless and eager, her eyes shining with a hunger that hadn't existed a week ago.

AJ smiled -- slow, easy, devastating.

"Our lessons are over," he said.

But Hannah just grinned wider, her hands sliding up his chest.

"Same time tomorrow?" she repeated, voice dripping with want, with need, with surrender.

"You got it," he said, kissing her once more, hard and deep and claiming, before stepping back.

She watched him walk away, watched the big, powerful young man saunter toward his truck like he owned the entire world.

Because maybe he did.

Not officially.

Not yet.

But AJ Long was starting to understand something he had never fully grasped before.

He climbed into his truck, fired the engine, and pulled onto the quiet street, the sun setting behind him in a blaze of orange and crimson.

As he drove, he felt it -- something new, something electric, coursing through his veins.

Power.

Not just the power of his body, or his cock, or even his charm.

Real power.

The power to take.

To own.

To shape the world around him.

He passed a neatly manicured house and saw a wife kissing her husband goodbye at the door --

a sleek little trophy, bored and lonely and ripe for attention.

He passed the high school and saw the most popular girl laughing with her quarterback boyfriend --

young, spoiled, untested.

He passed City Hall and saw the newly elected mayor shaking hands with constituents --

pretty, polished, hiding desperation under layers of ambition.

But AJ didn't just see people.

He saw targets. Opportunities. Potential.

The world wasn't closed to him anymore. It was wide open.

And he was going to take everything he wanted. Starting now.

This was his Graduation.