“Are… Are you okay?” He said breathily, not used to activates of this nature. “Y-y-yes. D-don’t stop. It just… S-s-surprised me.” The pain that flooded me was now replaced with sheer lust. Never in all my years had I felt something like this. So much pain so quickly gone, and so much pleasure to take it’s place. He filled me up with himself, every tender, slow thrust beaconing me to believe I was okay. “Please, Wyatt. Faster? I’m alright now…”
“Grace? Do you want to, you know, get on top? It may feel better.” Nodding, I felt him quicken his pace, wanting just a few more seconds of the warmth. Slowly, he slid out, and while looking at me, assuring himself I really WAS okay, he moved off of me, and guided my body on top of his. Cautiously I looked at him, my eyes telling him, “Please, no more hurt.” He smiled then, the sweetest smile I had ever seen, and I knew it was going to be okay.
Straddling his waist. I fumbled with him, but finally found home. His hands lifted, and they rested on my breasts. His fingers splayed, and the hard peaks there were protruding from between his fingers. He closed his hands, and what I thought would hurt felt so amazing. Between his knuckles were pinching my nipples slightly, and I began to rock back and forth.
His hands shied then from my breasts and found my hips. Holding them firmly, he started to push and pull them along his pelvis. Finding a rhythm, I followed suit, and with each long, hard movement, more and more could I feel something insatiable begin to form deep inside me. Continuing, my moans increasing in volume and decreasing in length, I felt myself begin to hyperventilate. “Wyatt, oh my god. Wyatt!”
Screaming, near bloody murder it must have sounded like to those who heard, I felt the most unimaginable thing. The sensation was like nothing I’d ever experienced, and with it, came an intense want. And bubbling from deep inside, the scream led to a fulfilling, creative way to defeat that want. Moaning from the nerve-tingling expense, I fell forward, my brow slick with sweat. Resting my cheek on his chest, he himself began to gyrate against me, moving his hips up and down, he himself wanting the release.
Sighing into my ear, he said one sentence, and one only, before he himself felt the tightening and then releasing of that glorious, delicious fluid. “Gracey, this is… This is just… So much better than what I thought I’d be doing for the rest of my life.” He let go, it flowing inside me, filling up all the spaces he hadn’t and couldn’t. Holding my hips against him as he came, each precious drop penetrating the unseen fortress of virginity.
A soft groan escaped his lips as he finished. And tugging my closer, all he could say was, “Dude. Just… Dude.” Kisses peppered my face and neck and shoulders, and I could feel the sweat that was on his face. He helped my pleasure-numb body move off of him, and when I curled up on the bed next to him I could see what we had done. The sheets below where we had lain with each other were covered in sweat, but not only that. A small stain, no bigger than the size of my palm, was of blood.
Instantly, Wyatt got up to grab a hotel towel. Looking at him curiously, he began to pat me dry, removing the blood and from my nethers, along with the cum that had dripped out. The shift of my body proved no more pain, but a glorious sensation created by the warm fluids flowing out of the valley he will now always call home. Curling next to each other, warm against warm, skin against skin, wet against wet. Cuddling, and slowly regaining our breath, pillow talk began.
The red stain on my sheets is now no more than a old brown spot, but even washing them couldn’t remove all the pleasure they helped create.
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