old!phil fucks you on his couch while your parents are out on his porch | suggestive content, phil pulls readers hair and use of word “slut”
a/n: sorry, my beloved fans of phil i took so long. I was spending some time with my man (who is the most and best perfect old man i ever had in my life), and yh, i lost complete focus here, and i feel so bad. But y'all know when i come back, the fic/blurb will be better! enjoy! And ty, anon, for reminding me to write about phil again!
Phil had returned from Stu’s wedding. Three weeks without him had taken a toll on you; when he came back, he didn’t even let you know—not a single text or call to say he was home. It wasn’t until your parents told you that Phil had invited them over for a barbecue at his place that you found out, even though he hadn’t notified you beforehand. You were clearly angry at his audacity. Unbelievable, narcissistic.
You were definitely going to the barbecue at his house, fists clenched, ready to confront him and call him out on his lack of interest in you, but when he opened the door to welcome you and your parents, your fists tightened even more.
He returned more tanned, his hair slightly tousled, a genuine smile on his lips, and a scarf draped over his shoulder. You wanted to eat him alive; you narrowed your eyes at him as he politely greeted your mothers and invited them inside, letting them pass while leaving you standing right in front of him. Without looking at him, you walked past him, without saying a word, but you weren’t going to go as far as you thought.
He closed the door to his house and squeezed his hand around your wrist, stopping you. “Hold on,” he whispered in a hoarse voice. “You ain’t going that easy, smart one.” He lifted the corners of his lips at the sight of you. “Fuck you,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes and pulling your arm to break his grip on your wrist. He tightened his grip and pulled you closer. With his other hand, he roughly grabbed your jaw and squeezed your cheeks. “Are you mad, brat?”
You frowned, opened your mouth to protest, but his lips were already crashing against yours in a hard, desperate kiss, full of euphoria and longing. It took you no more than a few seconds to grab the back of his neck and return the kiss. Your lips moved in sync, lazy and disheveled, your tongues mingling with one another, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth. You gasped into his mouth as you felt him push his tongue as far in as he could, disarming you in his arms. He grabbed your back and pressed your chest against his to hold you steady and keep the kiss going.
It took him no more than a few minutes to have you bent over the sofa in his living room, your chest and face pressed against the cushions, your ass raised, your shorts and underwear at your knees. You were completely wet, dripping from your folds, ready for him. Phil pulled out his glans with ease and thrust it in without stimulating your entrance. It was brutal and hard. “Look at you, a pretty little slut for me,” he growled as he watched your folds suck on his head. You stifled a loud moan into the couch cushion, holding back the gasps and obscene sounds escaping your mouth. Phil leaned in and covered your mouth, silencing you. He pressed his mouth against your ear and whispered, “You should be quiet, or I’ll show you how to stay shut.” He spat into your ear, and you nodded quickly at his words.
His pelvis moved roughly and slowly at the same time. He thrust into you in a painfully pleasurable way, the tip of his glans hitting right against your cervix, over and over with force. He grabbed your scalp in a fist and slammed your head into the cushions as he thrust in and out of you rapidly. The sound of skin slapping echoed through the room, and the muffled sounds from your throat were dampened by the leather upholstery of the chair.
You gripped the seam of the cushions tightly as you neared orgasm, his hard cock pounding forcefully inside you, making sure it went all the way in, that you felt just how hard he gets. You moved your hips in time with his pelvic thrusts, reaching your orgasm. When you came, his glans swelled and jets of semen sprayed all over your back, painting it white with every spurt that shot from his glans. Phil gasped as he stimulated his glans and let out every last drop.
After cleaning yourself up and ending up with numb knees and a sore neck, you went back to where your parents were, chatting with Doug and his wife Tracy, completely unaware of what Phil had just done to you. He returned to the gathering as if nothing had happened, chatting with your father, who was flipping the meat on the grill. So normal and oblivious to what had just happened—which turned you on and made your blood boil. That man is pure temptation.
Apologies for not coloring the text as I recently did. I'll keep it that way!
