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He keeps going and going until my pussy tightens so hard around his cock it’s almost a miracle he still manages to keep on thrusting.
He savors my tightness with each stroke, burying himself deep inside me and then retreating until only his tip remains in me. One final and deep stroke and a wild scream scratches the back of my throat, rising up to my lips as a desperate cry of pleasure.
Blake tightens his grip in my hips, keeping me in place as he fucks me into obliviousness with a savage fury, my whole body spasming in a seizure of ecstasy. I twitch and spasm until all strength leaves my limbs, my body collapsing onto the bed completely spent.
Following after me, he rests his body on top of mine, his cock still firmly planted inside my pussy, his chest and stomach laying against my back. He rocks his body against mine like that, his cock moving back and forth inside me.
I can almost feel the adrenaline raging through his veins, crawling under his skin and making him feel as if he’s about to burst. His muscles tense hard and, for a moment, he even stops breathing, his mind directing all vital functions to the only thing that matters right now – pleasure.
He chokes a groan on his throat, and I feel a current going from deep inside of him to his cock. He exhales between gritted teeth as his cock spasms violently inside me, his cum darting out and filling me up.
He buries himself as deep as he can go, and he holds there, feeling the spasms of his cock spread through his whole body. Propping himself up, he summons all his strengths and manages to pull back, his cock slowing sliding out and springing free over my naked ass.
Guided by instinct, he takes his hand to the base of his member and starts stroking himself, his cum still gushing out as if it hadn't already done so.
I scream. I moan. I cry tears of utter pleasure as he comes over me, my body still burning under the fire of the last orgasm.
Someone pinch me, because to feel this much pleasure must mean that I’m dreaming.
Chapter 29
Katherine
There are mornings when the words flow down to the fingers and make them dance over the keyboard. I’m locked in another world. Nothing is sweeter than a white page turning into a field of text. What is that noise? It does not matter, period, space and new sentence. The sentences need to be short for this part.
OK so it’s a knock at the door. Darn, just when I nailed that scene.
I make a note, sigh and pick up my coffee cup. I’ll answer the door and depending on who it is, I will be cheerful and short or grumpy and short. Either way, it’s short because once the coffee cup is refilled, I will have my fingers flying all over the keyboard again.
I open the door, look up and down, and use every muscle in my arm to throw the door back to its frame so hard it should send both the door and frame flying out into the corridor.
Of all the people on earth, the very last person I ever want to see is standing there like he owns the space and still owns me. It’s Dale. I so want the door to smash him to the opposite wall.
But the door stops dead. I look at it in disbelief for a second and then look down. The jerk has been too quick and has his foot in the door. I put my whole weight against it and shove it with all my might.
The door moves, but against me. Dale is pushing his way in.
“What part of ‘I never want to see you again’ can’t you understand?” I near yell at him.
“Hey Babe...”’ Smug smile.
Prick.
The guy just doesn’t get it. It’s over. At a pinch, he could call me Katherine in a text message maybe from the other side of the world, but I never ever want to hear another word come out of his mouth, let alone the word ‘Babe.’
“You want the good news?” he asks.
I notice he is breathing hard. He is such a slob. The little workout at the door has been enough to get him breathing harder than a steam train. Or is he expecting something that’s not there for him anymore?
“Good news?” I say in a voice dripping with sarcasm, “You joined the Peace Corps and you’re off to deepest part of Africa until further notice, or you’ve landed a job as a sea captain doing the London to Hong Kong run or, wait, you have the best news I am ever going to hear: you just drew the winning ticket for a one way mission to Mars, leaving tomorrow. Hit me with it. Now that you’re here I could do with some cheering up.”
“Oh no, way better than that. You see the good news is for me, but I’m that sort of guy who just loves to share with my very close friends.”
“Good for you,” I say, “If any of them show up I’ll give you a call. Now leave.”
“You don’t want to know about Mr. Hot Brush, you know the guy with the eeny weeny charcoal stick. Don’t want to hear about the latest?”
“Talent really gets to you doesn’t it? Rest easy Dale. You’ve got talent. You do the best lines in gossip about other people. Guess that’s because not much is happening in your part of the world. No, wait, I’m wrong. There’s lots happening in your life but no one cares.”
