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2

Linda

Couldn’t he see how much I needed him?

I kissed him again, and my hands fell around his strong shoulders as I did. I pressed my body to his and felt his warmth, and instinctively my hands reached for the buttons of his jacket, undoing his tie and then his shirt until he was bare-chested for me. My eagerness to have him seemed to shock Axel. He hadn’t expected me to wear my feelings so openly and seemed dazed as I kissed his chest.

But suddenly, without warning, I felt the great weight of his body descend on me until we were lying entwined on the sofa. I felt his heart racing through his chest and saw the blood rush to his cheeks as he kissed me, not gentle now, but rough and hard, leaving tiny marks on my neck and chest. This was it—what he’d held back. A powerful, protective lust that was about to sweep me into a world of unknown pleasures.

Axel pulled me up to meet him again, and before I knew it, he’d stepped around me and was kneeling on the couch, his fingers calmly unzipping my dress as he peppered the back of my neck with kisses. I wore nothing for him now but my underwear, and heard a growl of pleasure escape his throat as he ran his hands around my bare waist, cupped my breasts, and gave into the lust I knew he felt for me.

“You’re beautiful,” he purred, and I sighed, feeling the words escape as breath on my shoulders.

“You’re not so bad yourself, handsome,” I murmured.

I could feel his throbbing erection almost escaping his pants, and turned as he bit and sucked at the soft flesh on my shoulders, working quickly to free his thick manhood from his pants. I slipped off his belt and it fell through my trembling hands. Never, never in my life had I known a man as comforting as this, confident and calm in his movements as he drew my body towards his.

Within no time at all, I’d loosened his cock from his pants—and what an enormous, gorgeous cock it was, throbbing with desire for me, and certainly the biggest I’d ever seen.

"Wow,” I said, without meaning to. Would it fit?

But Axel just pulled me into his lap. He kissed me.

“It’s okay,” he said, and I knew it would be. I was already more flushed and aroused than I’d ever been in my life. I could feel myself growing wet between my legs.

I Lindenred myself onto my knees, wildly tossing my hair over my shoulder. It only seemed to arouse Axel more. I bent and greedily began to suck his dick, first kissing it, before taking the shaft in my mouth, descending and rising with rapid motion.

“Oh my God,” said Axel, through gritted teeth. “That’s incredible.”

My hand wrapped around his cock as I sucked it, and I thought that Axel would succumb right there and then—my ex certainly did—but I was shocked when he snarled, and pulled me up on the couch, freeing himself of the last of his clothes, and tearing off my bra and my panties.

“You’re not getting away that easily,” he sneered, and bent, and before I knew it, I felt his mouth gently pressing against the heat of my hot, wet pussy. I moaned and stretched my arms down to his head, where my fingers felt his thick, dark hair. I showed him how much I liked it, lazily draping my legs over his shoulders while he expertly ate my pussy. Slow, long licks of his tongue began to charge my body with delight, as he sank his mouth closer and closer between my legs, never applying too much or too little pressure. It was perfect. I’d never known a man who could do this as well as him. I was twenty-three years old, a plaything in his hands, inexperienced and utterly fascinated. My head said no, but my heart yelled yes. I sighed and felt my loins give way for him.

I knew Axel wanted to have sex with me, knew that was why he’d thrown me down on the couch with such eagerness, and I welcomed it. I needed him, his strength, his power, inside of me, through me, everywhere. He kissed my breasts, and then my neck, and my face, and finally rose up before me, his enormous cock posed over the lips of my pussy.

“You want this?” he said, teasingly, and I looked up at him, my eyes full of fire.

So what if this rich guy was going to discard me in the morning? So what if it was just a one-night stand? So what if I never saw him again? Despite my disappointment, I couldn’t stop now.

I wanted him.

“Fuck me,” I said. “Please, Axel, please.”

As the head of Axel’s penis pressed into my pussy, I yelped, astonished at just how big he really was. But gently, slowly, he worked into me, pushing himself deeper and closer, until he was completely inside me, until I was pinned beneath him on the couch. His strong arms wrapped around my wrists, holding me down while he began to move his waist in a slow, gentle rhythm. The size of him was a shock: my loins felt on fire, and more than once or twice, I struggled, before surrendering, holding him close to me as he punished my pussy with faster, firmer thrusts now. I began to cry out, not with pain but with pleasure, not wanting but needing Axel Linden.

I tightened my legs around him, and looked up into his eyes. Axel seemed like he was about to come when a thought came to me:I wasn’t on birth control.

It’s just one time,I said to myself. I knew I needed him. I knew there was no way I’d make him stop, not when he’d shown me the night of my life, the best goddamn fuck I’d ever get. I wasn’t about to pass it up.

When Axel came, so did I. The stimulation had welled in me until my legs locked around his. I’d never come for a man before, and as I did, I cried out, “Oh god, oh GOD!” and the world shook, before falling to stars, while Axel’s cock pumped inside me, showering me with a heat and light and warmth I’d never known.

When it was over, the world fell to dark for a while. When I lifted my head up and looked at the clock, twenty minutes had passed and Axel was gone.

“Cocky bastard,” I muttered and began hurriedly to look for my clothes. Thank God, no one had discovered us. But the bar was closing soon.

As I left, I saw a small white card on the table. It read:

“Thank you.

Axel Linden.”

+1543011311

I couldn’t believe that this mystery man, this traveling bigshot, would have given out his contact information so easily.

And if it weren’t for what happened afterward, I’d never have called him at all.

A month later, I returned to New York, utterly exhausted from the trip. At least my hard work had paid off, and I had enough money to cover rent for a month or two. However, those months flew by, and it didn't take long for me to realize that my period was late.

For the first week, I brushed it off as a delay, but as another week passed, worry crept in. I found myself reminiscing about Axel, even though I was upset about his abrupt departure without a proper farewell. We'd shared great moments, but we were fundamentally different—me, cheerful and carefree, and him, a somber, serious man. It could never have been anything more.

Nevertheless, after consulting a doctor about my missed period, I couldn't help but ponder the possibility. In the sterile, white examination room, I underwent a battery of tests until the doctor gravely asked, "Have you engaged in unprotected intercourse recently?"

"Um, no," I initially replied. Then, a memory of Axel Linden surfaced.

"I think you should take a pregnancy test," the doctor recommended.

Leaving the office, my stomach churned like a bag of nails, and I felt queasy. Panic set in as I contemplated morning sickness. I frantically looked it up on my mobile phone while on the bus, but I remained bewildered about what to do.

Then, I remembered that I had saved his phone number. Perhaps I could call him for advice or just to talk about it. I hadn't shared my Bali encounter with anyone else. My friends knew Alan, and I feared their harsh judgment if I disclosed the affair.

So, I dialed his number. Despite his gruff exterior and his sudden departure, I considered Axel mature and responsible enough to confide in with my secret.

However, my first call went unanswered. I decided to give him some space, thinking, "If that's the way you want to play it."

After taking a pregnancy test that revealed a positive result, I called him again, only to be met with silence.

Finally, in a moment of desperation, I called him for the third time, and yet again, it went straight to voicemail. My words were frantic and desperate: "Axel? It's Linda. We met in Denpasar. I need your help. I don't want anything from you, but please, get in touch with me." I provided my phone number, my address, everything. But I couldn't bring myself to admit what was wrong, not even to myself.

With no response from him, I resorted to searching for information about him online. To my surprise, Axel Linden was more than just a run-of-the-mill business traveler.

He was a multimillionaire.

About a month later, when a letter arrived at my doorstep, it became clear to me that I was better off without him. Axel Linden appeared to be a pitiful, despondent man who seemingly regarded our encounter as a colossal mistake and couldn't fathom the possibility of a more significant error.

From that day forward, I considered myself fortunate. I believed I had narrowly escaped involvement with a truly unpleasant individual, as I gazed at the contents of the letter. Fortunately, I wouldn't have to see him again. The letter contained a sum of money along with a note that simply said, "I'm sorry."

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