AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You’re so swollen. Puffed pink lips,” he remarked. He slipped a finger inside my pussy and rotated. “A wet hussy too.” His running commentary added to the thrill and my predicament. The vulnerable position energized my sexual core. I leaked about him and he added another finger.
“Ah!” I gasped. Something icy landed between my cheeks. It drizzled down my crack and over my anus. I flinched with shock at the coldness. He’d applied the lubricant generously and it slithered down the length of my cleft in one continuous stream. The tension forced me to hold my breath as I waited for him to penetrate me.
“Relax. Breathe. Don’t hold your breath, or else it will hurt,” he said. “It’s cold at the moment. I’m going to warm you up.”
He rubbed the lube into my groove, circling it around my anus, applying an increasing amount of pressure. The coolness diminished, replaced by friction and heat. I concentrated on slowing my breathing and keeping my legs relaxed. I lay on his thighs, letting my knees give and my hips splay farther.
“Good girl,” he muttered. “You’re doing really well.”
Such gentle words of encouragement brought minute tears to my eyes. I’d never anticipated that sex could be gifted in such a way as to make me feel appreciated and commended.
Something nudged against my anus. He probed with his sheathed finger, and I jumped before remembering his suggestion to focus on my breathing. I did, treating it like an exercise. I imagined playing a scale—two octaves of eight notes—breathing once at the start and again at the top note. With each breath, I pushed slightly backward, meeting his finger. He edged in slowly, a tortu
rous, but necessary pace. I experienced no pain, but some discomfort as I stretched. My tight ring gave, millimeter by millimeter.
He accompanied my virgin ass finger-fuck with a vigorous frigging of my vagina. The duet, played by his expert fingers, sent me closer to my orgasm, and when he hooked two fingers inside my pussy, targeting my sensitive spot, I edged to the precipice.
“I’m going to come,” I gasped. “I…can’t…”
“Come,” he intoned. “As many times as you can.”
It wasn’t what I had expected, but it was what I wanted, needed from him—permission to let myself go. I erupted, and as I achieved my orgasm, he wriggled his solitary finger deeper into my taut asshole. The sense of fullness, the impact it had on my orgasm, was tremendous. My scream of delight ricocheted around the bedroom. It didn’t stop there. Within a few seconds, I built another impending climax. My calves twitched as he inserted a third finger in my pussy, instigating ripples of contractions.
Hot breath bloomed over my quivering ass. He exhaled rapidly and panted with the exertions of his frenzied fingers. I didn’t think he could possibly do anything more to excite my exhilarated flesh, but he did. He swiveled his digits about inside me and reached under with his thumb.
“Oh, fuck!” Not my clitoris, please, dear God.
He rubbed it, and that, along with his buried fingers, sent me sky high with spasms. I tensed around him, unable or unwilling to breathe. I slumped down onto the pillow, my face smothered.
I barely registered his fingers disappearing as he withdrew. He maneuvered me like pliable clay, lifting me off his lap and helping the blood return to my lower torso. The pressure in my facial cheeks dissipated. I hadn’t noticed the discomfort. He spun me around, so my shoulders and head rested on the bed, my feet on the floor. The pillow he wedged under my hips. Then I felt it. His cock like a steel rod, pressing down into me. He entered me with an eagerness I loved. He’d given me a cocktail of sensual pleasure and multiple orgasms. Now, I wanted him to pump into me.
He pounded me with one of his incredible rough displays of fuckery. He pressed a hand on the small of my back while looping an arm under my pelvis. The angle altered and he plundered deeper. I clawed at the trampled bedcovers, hugging them to my chest as he increased his pace. He crushed my tender breasts underneath me and I winced as my nipples ached, yearning to be touched.
“Come,” he urged. “Please, Mausi.”
I didn’t think I had anything left to give, but he dug it out with his persistent voice. He moaned, grunted and uttered words in German. All of which added to the thrill. My final orgasm didn’t explode out of me, neither was it ruined by exhaustion. Instead, it gently rose to a pleasant climax and spread about my body in waves. Stefan spurted as I contracted my pussy muscles. He growled, slowing his pace until he had spent his final drop of cum.
He withdrew and slumped on his back next to me, his legs resting on the floor. “Meine Gott,” he muttered. “That was something, Callie. You”—he turned to face me—“are special.” He brushed the hair from my eyes and kissed my sweaty forehead. “Thank you.”
I wanted to show my gratitude, but my dry mouth couldn’t form the words. I scrambled onto the bed and curled up into a ball. Within seconds, I fell asleep.
* * * *
The smell of food woke me. Perhaps twenty minutes had passed. I didn’t know. Time and I had parted company since the swim. I heaved myself up and threw aside the covering, which Stefan must have placed on me. I rubbed my eyes and stretched my arms up, arching my back. My pussy felt sore and my clit pleasantly tender. Fortunately, my anus remained unaffected by its first sexual adventure.
“Wow,” I giggled. “That, he can do again.” I wouldn’t tell him that, though, not to his face. Another time, when I failed to do what he asked, I hoped he would punish me again. Which made me wonder what else he had up his sleeve when it came to exploring the sensual realm.
After I’d dressed, I found Stefan in the kitchen cooking something savory on the stove. I wrapped my arms about his waist and snuggled into his back. His shirt smelled freshly laundered. My senses seemed extra sensitive—the midday particularly bright, the birds chirping outside and the aroma of food pervasive. “What are you making?”
“Suppe mit Knoedel.”
I walked round him and peered into the saucepan. I glanced up at him and arched my eyebrows.
“Soup with potato dumplings. A traditional Bavarian dish.” He stirred the liquid.
“What kind of soup?” I asked.
His nose went a little pink. “I’m not sure. I found it in the freezer in a tub. Rest assured, my father is a good cook, if unreliable with his labeling.”
