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TWO
brooke
Kyir was…great for my confidence.
He wanted lights on, clothes off, nothing obstructing his view as he slid into me from what could only be described as a rather… creative position.
Me on my back, him on his side, perpendicular to me, one of my legs propped over his hip, the other stretched up to his shoulder, leaving the vantage point of his dick disappearing in my pussy in full sight.
Leaving every perceived imperfection—the sag of my breasts, lack of definition in the soft expanse of my stomach—laid completely bare.
He looked at me like I was a fucking masterpiece though, like every push of his hips was some prize he’d won. His eyes were even lower than before, with sleepiness and intoxication, but he was present. Thumb on my clit, lubricated with my arousal, my freshly showered toes in his mouth now. The sensation of it all spiked in the pit of my stomach and spread from there, blanketing me in overwhelming… pleasure.
I could never manage to be as quiet as I wanted, as quiet as I was with other lovers. It was all cute whimpers and performance, a curated experience; not a bad one, just… controlled.
I had none of that here.
He just…fuck.
He was always pressing intojuuustthe right spot, with his tongue, his fingers, his dick, always pushing me past some point of… rationality.
I couldn’t make sense of it, of how easily he seemed to find the pleasure points that had me understanding exactly why a woman might get on the internet and act an entire fucking fool about him.
Too good at sexwas a wild red flag.
One I happily ignored for the experience of Kyir switching things up, grabbing me by the ankles to pull me to the end of his bed. With my feet propped on his shoulders, he drove into me again, so deep that my mind blanked for a second before I even reallyfelthim.
When I did, my thighs immediately started shaking.
My back arched, mouth wide open as his fingers pushed into my flesh, keeping me still as he pounded into me, hitting that exact spot again and again.
“Kyyyyy,” I whined, powerless to keep my exultations of pleasure to myself.
“You like that?” he asked with a lazy grin before his face settled back into a focused glare.
“Yessss,” I groaned. I only meant to say it once, but before I knew it I was moaning it over and over, and then… yelling it.
Screaming it.
Screaming my throat raw as he fucked me harder, pushing deeper, faster, like he was trying to carve out fresh territory to claim in the depths of my pussy.
As if he hadn’t laid claim to every inch already.
I was already immersed in the staticky aftermath of an orgasm when he finished with a surge of his hips, sending a shudder of sensation through me. He stood there panting, still buried to the root as he caught his breath.
When he finally pulled out, after we’d cleaned up and replaced the soiled sheets, he caught me around the waist, pulling me into him.
“When was the last time you ate?” he asked in my ear, in a tone I felt right between my legs.
As if my pussy hadn’t gotten enough use in the last two hours.
“Uhhh… I don’t remember, actually,” I admitted with a sigh, shying away from him as he glared at me, bothered by my lack of awareness.
“You got something clean in your bag you can put on?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
He smirked. “So we can go get something to eat. I could use it after that.”
