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He sinks deeper. My pussy, feeling empty, throbs in jealousy. My anus, however, would be happy to trade places. Even with my wetness as a lubricant, the stretching feels a little rough. I breath through it as if I’m giving birth.
Just when I think he’s gone as far as he can, he pushes a little farther.
“Oh, baby, that feels good,” he mutters when he finally seems content with how much of him is now lodged in my butt. “That feel good to you, Bridge? You like your ass stuffed with my cock?”
“Mmhmm,” I whimper, still trying to get used to the fullness.
Luckily for me, he keeps a slow pace as he begins to thrust. I grunt and cry, but as long as he doesn’t go too hard or fast, I can get used to it. His other hand reaches for my clit, and my ardor does somersaults. Desire churns in my loins.
Please let me come.
I want to beg, but I don’t dare. According to him, I don’t deserve to come. I don’t want to upset him just by asking. Plus, I probably need his permission to come. That’s how it worked when we were playing.
Only I don’t know if I can hold it back. All those old sensations are returning, and my body wants it. It wants to come undone. His cock is hitting the right spot. His fondling pushes me toward the edge. My efforts to stem the tide of desire have me trembling. I worry I might bite his fingers. Maybe he won’t notice me coming if he comes first. He’s getting closer, based on the crescendo of his grunts and groans and the fact that he’s driving into me harder. I don’t mind anymore because the only thing that matters is coming. I mean, not coming. I just need to—
My orgasm bursts through me, shaking me, quaking me. I’m only half aware of Darren drilling into my ass before he, too, is overcome. I feel his liquid heat empty into me.
As the rapture finally settles for the both of us, he gradually disengages from me. I want to drop to my knees, but going limp against the ropes won’t feel good. Reality seeps in, and I feel sore and achy in a variety of places.
But Darren came. Which is what I wanted. But now what?
