Deal With It. A Stydia Love Story.

Chapter 3

Warning: This Chapter contains adult themes which may not be suitable for younger readers, not that I really care, but I was scarred early, and I don't want other kids my age to be as messed up as I am. The text in italicised font is smut, if you are sensitive to such things, skip over it. Enjoy! A.R. Smith.
P.S. I am fully aware that my initials spell Ars. Or arse without the "e", I already bug my parents about it enough, so don't bug me, this only goes to haters. Byeeeeee!
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Lydia looked into Stiles' eyes, only to find a devious glint and a matching devious smirk gracing his lips. He slowly leaned in, and she closed the distance. She attacked his lips, throwing her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. He wrapped his rough, calloused hands around the lower hem of her pink cardigan, pulling her flush with his frame. She kicked off her heels, increasing the height difference enormously, to the point that he was lifting her off the ground, just to keep the height the same. He carried her to the bed, laying her tiny frame on the red silk sheets he had put on the bed for her arrival. He laid on top of her, bracing his weight on his knees on the end of the bed, and his palms. He lowered his head slowly, and when their lips collided again, they picked up exactly where they left off. She began sucking on his bottom lip, drawing a moan from his mouth into hers. He swept his tongue over her plump bottom lip, asking for entrance. Her lips parted slightly, and he slipped his tongue inside, tangling with hers and swirling around with hers, exploring every corner of her mouth, as if chronicling the best paths to Lydia's moans, each one escalating higher, and higher, until things got even more heated.
Stiles' hands slipped lower, tracing down to her lightly toned abs, and then to her waistline, snapping the elastic band of her skirt against her waist, making her squeal. She got the signal, and slipped off her black miniskirt, letting Stiles trace circles on her inner thighs, agonisingly close to where she wanted him. He slipped a long, rough finger into her slick folds, drawing a breathy moan from her lips.
"Stiles, you have entirely too many clothes on." Lydia said, breathless. He jumped out of the bed, and what felt like no time at all, his fingers were back inside her, curling up expertly as he thrust with his hand, causing an intense spike of pleasure shooting through every nerve in her body. Her walls clenched tightly like a vice grip around his fingers as she came, riding out her aftershocks on his fingertips. Before he knew what was happening, she had flipped him over, and began whispering horrifically dirty things into his ear. He positioned himself subtly, slowly, and she didn't notice he was at her entrance, until he slid his cock head over the wet folds, drawing a moan from both their mouths. He locked eyes with her, his eyes as wide as saucers. She nodded her approval, and without a moment's hesitation, he slid into her, agonisingly slowly, then thrust quickly, stuffing the final few inches of his throbbing dick deep inside her wet folds. She gasped, but was cut off by his lips on hers. He began thrusting while still keeping their lips locked, establishing a rhythm, until they both came due to the ludicrous pleasure of an abnormally large penis, and an extraordinarily tight pussy.

She curled upwards off the bed as he slid out, making them both gasp. They got into the spooning position and began relaxing peacefully, intertwining her hand with his as she used his arm as a pillow. He began twirling a strawberry-blonde curl lazily, until she fell asleep and he quickly followed suit.