Rick Sanchez x Reader - Lust, Infatuation |Not a love story|(ON HOLD)

chapter 3 pt.1

The drive home eventually got better as whatever I took from Beth's nightstand kicked in and relieved my headache. I parked in front of the apartment building and rested my head on the wheel, even being just outside my home is therapeutic. I get out and lug my way up the stairs and into my apartment. I throw myself on to my bed after hanging my keys on their hooks by the kitchen wall. I roll around my bed and be dramatic for a minute before hauling my books onto my bed. I kick off my leggings and take off my shirt then bra. I reach for a random looser shirt from the floor and pull it on. I turn the tv on and pull out my laptop and notebook from under my bed.           Motherfucker,... I just got comfortable.                   I reach across the bed to grab the bottle I forgot was on the other side of the bed on the floor. I get recomfortable and start some homework before I go to bed. I'm trying to explain the beautiful wonders of string theory and Rick's glare keeps poking around in my head distracting me. Plus the graphics on the site I'm using to make digital models of the strings and dimensions aren't cooperating with me and it only makes it harder to concentrate.  I go to put my head in my hands but stop when my fingers touch my forehead, I stroked my fingers over the area where Rick had patted me on the couch. I sit there in extra confusion.              Why did he pat my head and why is it still of importance? Why and how are his hands so big? Why does he excite me and my curiosities? When's the last time I had sex? Maybe I'm just really horny because of lack of dick, I haven't fucked around in almost a month or month and a half. I'm bored of my normal booty calls. I need something new, but not old man, I definitely don't need a grandpa's dick.               

I push all my shit off the bed and take a couple more swigs before taking my vibrator/dildo out of my nightstand drawer. I've never felt the need to hide my things because I don't really get embarrassed all that much over things even though I probably should. I push my underwear down to my ankles and massage my clit a bit with the device before turning it on. Normally I don't think about anything at all but right now I'm having to bring up memories of my best fucks to keep that damn glare out of my head. Nothing works and I lay there for a minute feeling defeated.         Fuck it.               I had already started and now I have to finish. So if Rick has to be the one on my mind so be it, I just wanna bust this nut and go to sleep. I've been through this before when I was younger, I've always had a thing for older men. For Christ's sake my mom was the one who pointed out I had daddy issues by the time I was like thirteen or fourteen and back then I thought that was gross. I eventually came to accept it by late sixteen early seventeen, but the men I liked were never as old as Rick. There's just something in his demeanor, his stare, posture, facial expressions, that damn raspy low voice.     "Sweet-tutz"      
"Holy shit." I say out loud, flashing back to the dream I had. The big, rough hand that was grabbing me in my dream was the same hand I shook today, that's why I'm feeling wierd about this motherfucker, nigga  grabbed my pussy and choked me in my wet dream. The nickname in my dream was what that cocky motherfucker called me in the store last night.

I let my imagination build off of my dream from last night, despite my newer disgust in myself, I'll just have to push it back along with the many other reasons I disgust myself. I start over from the beginning, the thought of being woken up by a rough, scratchy hand making its way up the length of my body, exploring anything it wants while I lay there and let it. Why I let a mysterious hand explore me I do not know, but recalling the tingles, chills, and heat it spread throughout me clearly mattered more than my saftey to me. I run the vibrator up and down my inner thighs, teasing myself.  When he grabs my throat I penetrate myself with my toy. I reach over and grab my mini vibrator and use it on my clit while I move the other around inside me. His hand forces my face to look at him, he lifts a leg up and over me, he straddles me, trapping me and wraps both hands around my neck tightly but not aggressively. I moan at the thought and my hands work harder. One of his hands let's go and slides up the side of my face and runs through my hair. A fist full of hair gives him control of my head and he pulls me up about six inches and comes down and kisses me roughly, biting my lip then my neck, hard. I'm thrusting my toy harder and faster, knowing my sheets are getting wetter by the minute. My shirt gets torn open and he goes to work on my nipples, suckling, licking and nibbling aggressively, I bring my mini up to my breast and play with my nipple, pinching the nub between my finger and the vibrator and rubbing it around. Rick proceeded make his way down and untrapping me to pull my shorts off, I open my legs and an amused cocky smile finds its place on Rick's dark face, I return the smile as he unbuckles his pants, I roll my hips, showing off my pussy and his hard cock finally busts out of his boxers as he pulls them down. He grabs his dick and messages it with one hand while the other explores my lips and the wetness of my pink slit. He goes down on me for a quick taste before positioning himself between my legs and rubbing his tip up and down between my pussy's lips. His face turns to an evil, darker and sexier expression before pressing inside me. A few rough strokes in and  I orgasm before my imaginary sex scene can even finish. I relish in my orgasm,  letting my tingling spasms pass on their own. I reach down and grab the roll of toilet paper I always keep by my bed and wipe myself down so I don't have to sleep with my wet mess. I pull my underwear up and toss the wadded toilet paper in the trash by the bed. I put my toys away and roll to the side of the bed that isn't wet because I'm a lazy fuck who's too comfortable with myself to think it's gross. I only started that habit when I finally got a bed that wasn't a twin, having a queen sized bed changed my life after 20 years of nothing but twins and for some reason slightly smaller than twin beds. Ignoring the disturbing fact that I came faster than usual while thinking about an actual senior citizen, I surround myself with my pillows and get comfortable because I know I'm about to knock out.