“Ahhh yeah,” she carried on, “but that’s not nearly enough. You absolutely have to fuck me now.”
“Is that right?” I asked playfully, propped on my elbows still between her legs.
“Please just shut the fuck up,” she laughed, “and give me my fucking cock already.”
There was no democracy in how she’d have me; she swung a leg over me, turned herself around, and kneeled facing the low headboard, gripping the top rail of it firmly. It would be doggy then.
I took my place behind her, nudging her legs apart further with my knees. It wasn’t meant to be rough, but a little growl from her told me she liked the treatment. Like a world-class tease, she wiggled her fat ass back and forth for me, looking back over her shoulder to register my appreciation. The rippling flesh, the look, and the arch of her back were too much. I had to have her. I held out my hand towards her face, and she took only a moment to read the unspoken request; she briefly summoned a mouthful of saliva and drew it glisteningly across my palm with a long, sloppy lick.
“Dirty boy” she moaned as I worked her offering up and down my cock, giggling deviously as I placed one insistent hand around her waist.
“Are you ready?” I asked, slapping my cock at her with my free hand. I was relieved at the high pitched “Ooo” I got for it; she loved the little tease. Besides, it’s polite to knock before coming in.
“Shut up and fuck me” she demanded, pushing backward onto the head of the cock pressed to her still-wet lips.
To call a sensation heavenly might be a first rate cliché, and understatement besides, but slipping into her was like getting home after a long time away and realizing someone had freshly laundered your sheets for you all at once. It was, aside from the obvious physical bliss, the deep seated satisfaction of remembering the forgotten word that’s been on the tip of your tongue all day long. It was like that liminal paradise of getting caught in a gusting breeze that tickles every part of you on its way by on a hot day. It was so much more than just really wet and tightly snug. It was being where I needed to be with the person I needed to be there with.
It was also damned near impossible not to flood her with cum in under five seconds.
I wrapped my hands firmly around her waist and pulled her back onto me, and she made it clear that there would be no pussyfooting around here; it was her cock, and she’d be using it to cum, right now. That was about all there was to it.
She let me pump myself into her gladly, resting with her head dropped to her forearms as she crossed them atop the top of the headboard; I couldn’t see her face, but I imagined she had her eyes closed while she moaned richly. None of those over-the-top juvenile squeals of counterfeit pleasure that every two-bit pornstar on earth lies to us with; these were the low, desperately satisfied sounds of a woman getting exactly what she wanted. I ran my hands across every surface I could reach.
“You feel so good,” I told her, “You look so beautiful with my cock inside of you.” She turned her head back, showing me a knowing smile.
“I know you love your pussy, don’t you baby?” She bit her lower lip, hard.
“You have no fucking idea” I insisted breathlessly. I was lucky to have lasted this long, honestly.
“Come on then baby, let me see it. Show me how much you love it. Show me it’s yours.” She popped herself back up, holding the headboard in her hands and pushing herself upright, arms extended. The angle was better for me, and I put in the work that she demanded.
The slapping report of our bodies clapping together beat furiously on, and we tried briefly reach each other for a kiss, which worked surprisingly well despite the improbable geometry. She spoke into my lips.
“You’re gonna give me that fucking cum, aren’t you?”
“Yes”
“My cum?” she asked as I fought the burn that was developing in my abs and thighs, “You’re going to give me my cum?”
“Yours.” It was all I could manage.
“Do it then baby, give me all of my cum. Give me my cum. Give it to me now.”
Now who could disobey a request like that?
I fell back away from her with one last kiss and summoned the last ounces of stamina I had, sweat beading freely in small streams down my chest, forehead, and back. A firm smack on her ass, and I took hold for one last push.
“YEEEEEEssssss baby!” she shouted, sounding almost maternally proud of me, “That’s sooooo good!”
I could be good for her.
“Mmmmm,” she growled again while I thundered into her over and over again. “Come on baby!” She egged on.
“Fuck don’t stop.”
I had precious little breath with which to reply.
“FUCK yes, do NOT stop.”
There was no danger of that.
“I’m. Going. To. Fucking. Cum.” she said, each word punctuated by another clapping thrust.
Her head fell, once again, backward; her wide-eyed gaze searched the ceiling in unseeing euphoria as she cried out in wordless elation. I felt her bearing down on me from within, squeezing tightly enough to tip me over the edge of the cliff and I pumped, pumped, pumped into her with reckless abandon.
“YES! Yes! Cum inside of me! Cum inside of my pussy!”
I appreciated the encouragement, but it was entirely redundant. She was already half full.
Our waning orgasm conducted the eventual stilling of our bodies; she fell forward, out of breath, and over onto her side in an impractically large pile of sweaty pillow, and I sat back on my heels, hands on my thighs, gulping for air. Her hair splayed about her face, a vacantly grinning expression was painted there in a distant look of deep satisfaction. Eventually, she looked back at me, where my own stupid grin refused to abate.
“You good?” she asked.
“Very good” was my reply.
She barked a dry-throated laugh.
“Yeah. Yeah very good.”
We moved.
I grabbed her a towel.
She giggled while she poked at the leaking mess between her legs experimentally.
I ran the shower.
She joined me.
We kissed in the fragrant, soapy steam.
She stood for long minutes with her head on my chest.
I hugged her close, and held her fast.
We toweled each other off.
We crawled into bed.
“I missed you” she whispered sleepily into the dark.
“I missed you too.”
“Do you ever think about me?”
“Sometimes. Do you ever think about me?”
The pause was short, but it was there.
“Yeah. I think about you. I think about you a lot.”
I knew that already.
“I have the weirdest dreams about you sometimes.”
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