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Too aggressive is great sometimes.
I grabbed his hair, a handful of it.
“Don’t you dare calm down,” I warned him. “Fuck me like you want to hurt me.”
I felt one arm wrap around my waist and saw the other grip the edge of the rock beneath his ass. Then he shoved upward, spearing me, ramming his cock inside of me so hard I screamed.
I screamed.
I screamed again.
And I laughed.
Then I was the aggressor. I felt possessed. I just wanted this guy to keep fucking me. I wanted every inch of his cock buried inside of me. I gripped the back of his neck in one hand and his shoulder with the other, put my forehead against his, and rode him vigorously.
I bucked my hips and slid forward and backward, feeling my clit rub against his wet and curly pubic hair. My clit was so sensitive already that I felt that jolt go through my system again, my legs twitching as I continued to ride his cock.
I scratched his chest and brought blood. The searing pain set in and he paid me back by grabbing my waist with both hands this time. He stood up from the rock, his cock still shoved into me, and carried me. He squatted down and popped out of me.
Oh no, please.
He didn’t leave me yearning for long. He put my back on the sand, spread my legs open, and plunged himself back into me, all the way in.
“Ayyy,” I cried out.
I opened my legs as wide as they could go. It wasn’t wide enough. I put one leg over his shoulder.
Oh God. He was in so deep.
He was out…breathe.
He was in…fuuuck!
He was out…breathe.
He was in…ooooh fuck!
I cried out again and again and again as he drove himself between my legs. I’d never been so loud during sex. It felt so fucking good.
It was that sex that makes you talk in syllables. You know the kind.
Yes…
Keep…
Fuck…
Ing…
Me…
Damn…
It…
Val…
En…
