AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Abruptly, he stopped. His cock half in, his breathing exasperated. He laughed, chuckling away, then shook his head.
“You’re surprisingly good at lying still.” He brushed a lock of her hair away from her eyes.
She blinked, wondering if he’d found fault with her timorous responses.
He kissed her hot cheek. “I like it. For now. We’ll work on how you can move and use what little provocation I shall allow you to practise. I’m minded to let you work harder.”
He rotated, taking her with him, and left her on top, her legs astride, her hair tumbling onto his chest. He settled back, found a pillow for his head and shoulders, and grasped her hips.
“Up. Come, come. This is no great feat. You’re a competent rider.”
His cock was erect, rising up in front of her belly. With ease, he lifted her, and pressed her onto the smooth, wet bulb.
“No,” she said, not meaning for him to stop, only to allow her the mean
s to wriggle down. Before she could ask, she was lowered, inched into position, and left there, impaled. The length of his member was obvious; she felt it strike a barrier, something that caused her to cry out.
“You’d best rise up, then. Give yourself the joy of riding it. Go on.” He jiggled her hips.
She stared at his sky-blue eyes; he wanted her to lead? With her hands pressed onto his chest, her bottom rounded and kissing his balls, she crouched over him, rose up onto the balls of her feet and smacked her body back down.
He produced a crooked smile. “Move, sweetheart, for I have the endurance of a lion waiting to eat.”
Her mane of hair danced in time with her gyrations, the bucking of her hips, the crush of her pelvis around his cock and the precarious balancing act when she lifted her weight up onto her feet. Her knees bore the burden of the straddle. Gervais offered no support, only guiding her back into position when she swayed from side to side.
She grunted; it sounded terrible to her ears, but he appeared not to mind the crude noises. She thought it would only take a few minutes to satisfy him. The way her breasts bounced in front of his face had to please him. What she wasn’t expecting was the broad end of his thumb on her clitoris and the pressure he applied. He rubbed it aggressively, commandeering her exposed protrusion and taking her to the brink once more.
She shied away and failed. It was impossible to fuck him while keeping his hand away from there, where her tender spot was struggling to contain itself. He had the advantage, and there was nothing she could do but surrender. She arched backwards, jutted her breasts forward and her pelvis, too.
He had full access to her mound, the rough hairs and clitoris. He took advantage, as she leaned back on her hands, to continue his teasing flicks and rubs.
“That’s it, don’t stop. Keep fucking me,” he cajoled.
“I can’t. My legs...” She ached. Her limits were about to be breached. A collapse was imminent.
She came, though, in the midst of the frantic movements, and he forced her through it with his hands on her waist, ensuring she maintained the beat. Her orgasm swept on, painfully, and glorious in its conquest of her senses. She was subjected to the spirals, the waves of spasms and cramps, the pulse that reached her throat. She slumped forward, as predicted, and he caught her in his arms, easing her off and to one side, where she lay in a heap of breathlessness.
He arranged her feeble body on its side, and she half-noticed him in her dazed state. He lifted one of her legs and propped it on his shoulder, then straddled the other with his knees. Probing, he pitched forward, and entered her scissored legs. The sideways approach woke her up with a start. The reason for it quickly became apparent.
He tapped her lower lip with his thumb; she opened her mouth to receive two fingers.
“Suck on them,” he said.
It was a game, she realised, to tantalise him. There was no reason to excite his digits, other than in a pretence. What took her by surprise was when he slipped his other hand between her arse cheeks and inserted a finger into her tight hole. Penetrated in all ways possible, he had her at his mercy. Her wits were lost to him. She was unable to resist the thrusts of his cock, or the agitation of his finger in her bottom. What she had left was his taste in her mouth, an agreeable sensation that calmed her. The more she sucked and licked, the less the humiliation of his penetrations. It seemed to relax him to, the thrusts were not taxing on her, and he supported her limbs with his body.
“Good, nice,” he said soothingly.
The final switch of pace was when he retrieved his hands, pulled her bottom up onto his lap and hugged her to his chest. Two sharp thrusts and he stilled; his lower jaw dropped soundlessly. The heat rose up inside her, a spurt that brought merely a light moan to his lips. He withdrew, easing her off him, and the spillage followed after and down onto her thighs. The dense milk, creamy and elastic, was copious and sticky. Her thighs glued together. Had he meant to lose so much of it—wasn’t it supposed to remain inside? She knew so little about the function of coupling, how it created another life within her.
He left her on the bed in a mess of knotted hair, crumpled limbs, and fused fluids. He returned with a bowl of cool water. She shivered and wished she was not so bashful at the thought of him bathing her.
“My lord, I can—”
“You’ll bathe me.” He held out the bowl.
“Oh.”
He lay on the bed and she picked up the cloth, wrung it out, and swabbed his dwindling cock until it settled upon his belly.
