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He drove deeper, his cock pricking my cervix, and I cried out again. A banshee kind of shriek, pure instinct and unintended on my part. He withdrew and repeated his hammering thrust. My back intuitively arched, forcing my pelvis down and impaling myself onto his cock.
Kneeling up, he grabbed my hips and slammed into me. He dragged me up and down the smooth leather. No longer cold did I feel cold, the heat had triggered a sheen of perspiration on my forehead. I’d nothing to hang onto and I flailed my arms around my head until I found the edge of the cushion. I tried to grip it, to anchor my body, but Stefan dragged me farther onto his erection.
My breasts bounced up and down in time to his poundings. My pussy gushed with juices and my groin ached, trying to accommodate his thickness. He’d lifted my bottom off the sofa, spearing me, and my lower back had no support. I propped all my weight onto my shoulders. It had been years since I’d done gymnastics, but amazingly, the flexibility returned. I nearly formed a bridge with my arching.
He grunted with each rhythmic thrust, hitting my inflamed spot precisely. It couldn’t be happening. He’d not even touched my clitoris. My orgasms didn’t come from within.
“I’m coming,” I hollered.
He couldn’t stop me. I was on a one-way path to a delicious conclusion.
The contractions swallowed me whole, radiating out of my pulsating clitoris and pussy. I clenched painfully inside and out, while my toes curled and calf muscles cramped, twisting themselves into knots.
I screamed and uttered something ludicrous and unintended. “Oh, God, stop.”
He didn’t. Hell, I didn’t want him to. If anything, he became more frantic, and the friction of the heated leather burned the skin on my back.
“Stefan… I can’t…” I couldn’t speak. Then I couldn’t breathe. My eyelids fluttered.
Beads of sweat dripped onto my stomach and breasts. He’d released me. His mop of hair clung about his face as he leaned over my splayed form. I basked, glowing in a hot furnace of lust.
My vision focused. His face hovered over mine, flushed red with effort. I glanced down. His cock, fully erect and purple, stuck straight up. He hadn’t come!
I’d lost it. Any semblance of control gone. He’d made me a vessel of vulnerability. I didn’t want him to stop, but I feared what he might do to me. His body had grown immensely strong and imposing. I adored it. I wanted to worship its form and power. Micah vanished in a puff. Stefan reigned supreme.
“Can you take it?” he asked. “I have to have you. Make you mine.”
Take it? His question tempted me, but instilled anxieties. I now knew Stefan fucked hard. ‘Have you.’ Those two words sounded delicious and won me over. What a revelation Stefan was, and it made me lose my natural reserve. I beat down my nerves and nodded, tongue-tied by an attack of the trembles.
Grasping my ankles, he dragged me down the sofa, toward the bottom, and, with ease, flipped me onto my belly. He lowered my legs across the armrest and I swung them over the side. With me bent over, he stood at the end of the sofa and arranged me, as confidently as Bridget with a bunch of flowers, until my toes touched the hard surface of the floor and my bottom perched up high over the sofa’s armrest. I rested on my elbows with my breasts dangling, nipples grazing the leather, it tickled and heightening my sensual awareness. I peered over my shoulder, and he met my gaze with a hard expression. Not mean or unpleasant, simply masterful. The word popped into my head and stayed.
Who was this man? I’d let him undress me, fuck me, maneuver my body around his house like a chess piece and in return, I’d spread my legs willingly. Don’t ruin it. I stoppered my overthinking brain, halting it in its tracks.
He held my waist, pinching the little extra flesh I had on offer. I reached behind and parted my ass cheeks with my fingertips. I couldn’t believe my own audacity, how uninhibited I’d become, showing him my richly endowed sex folds and listening to his soft growl in response.
“Oh, lovely,” he crooned.
I leaked. I didn’t need to see the shimmer of juices on my sex or the wetness oozing onto my inner thighs. He ran his hand up and down my slit, spreading the wetness about, lubricating my passage.
The thrust knocked the breath out of me. I jolted on the sofa, feeling the hard wooden frame under the cushioned padding. I buried my head into my forearms, supporting my weight as he bashed into me.
He kneaded my buttocks, squashing my flesh between his nimble fingers. His crushing grip kept me steady as he slammed into my pussy, grinding repeatedly. Bent over, I relied on his firm support to stop me from tumbling headlong onto the seat. All I could hear were his grunts and his hips smacking into my bottom. My belly ached, making me conscious of his piercing actions, but never to the point of pain. I relished every thrust. After several minutes, I accommodated his entire length with ease, and he slid in and out, gliding in my well-oiled pussy.
I groped, reaching under my trapped pelvis until I found my little nub and gave it a much-needed fondle with a fingertip.
“Wait. Wait,” he panted at me.
“I can’t,” I screeched. I erupted with another stupendous orgasm, the kind that knocks the wind out of your lungs and turns your brain to mush. Pain encompassed pleasure as my clitoris became a throbbing mass of tender nerve endings. I stilled my hand, pressing the palm into my mound, and collapsed, breathless.
He juddered, reached his climax and pumped out his essence. I hoped the condom hadn’t torn with his pummeling fucks.
“Mein Gott!”
So much for no German. I tittered with dizzy amusement at his exclamation.
“What?” he gasped, breathing hard on my back in fits and starts.
“Nothing,” I muttered, too tired to explain.
