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“What’s happening to me?” I grit out. “I think a tsunami is coming.” As I say the words, the walls of my vagina contract so sharply, the sensation takes my breath away. To my surprise, however, the contraction doesn’t release. On the contrary, my walls keep tightening. Coiling. Clenching with force. “Oh, fuckity,” I say. “It’s too intense. I don’t know if I can do it.”
“Do you need to stop?”
“No. I’m just . . . Oh my god. Something’s . . . happening.” I close my eyes, and the next thing I know. I feel Henn’s breathing against my ear.
He whispers, “Close your eyes and imagine that dildo is me and you’re fucking me hard. Move your hips like the goddess you are and imagine I’m underneath you, going batshit crazy at how sexy you are.”
I move my body and imagine what he’s suggested, while Henn licks and nips at my nipples—and through it all, that vibration and swiping inside me continue ravaging me.
“Fuck me hard,” Henn whispers. “You’re Zelda, fucking me to get confidential information out of me. You’re Zelda, not Hannah. Come on, Zelda. Fuck the living hell out of me.”
He’s a genius. The minute I imagine myself as my femme fatale alter ego, something shifts inside me. Confidence surges. All of a sudden, my core begins clenching even more fiercely, coiling tighter and tighter. I’m on the brink of a tsunami crashing down on me. On the very cusp.
“More dildo,” I command.
My eyes are closed, so I can’t see Henn move the dial, but I can certainly tell he’s complied when the swiping inside me increases in speed and my entire body jolts deliciously in response.
With my eyes still shut, I move my hips forward and back with increased fervor. I’m Zelda, fucking classified information out of James Bond beneath me. I’m in charge. A femme fatale. I’ve got goosebumps. My heart is thundering in my ears. Sweat is trickling down my back.
Henn’s hands and mouth are all over me. When his mouth isn’t directly on me, he’s whispering about how hot I am. That he can’t get enough of me.
A bizarre numbing sensation overtakes my feet. My hands. My cheeks.
My toes curl.
A growl lurches out of me.
“I think I’m gonna . . .” I can’t complete my sentence—thankfully, since I was about to say “throw up”—because, suddenly, the most intense orgasm of my life is shattering every inch of me. Every nerve ending. The pleasure is so intense, in fact, I feel like I’m being electrocuted by it.
As my body quakes with a full-bodied seizure, I tumble off the machine and onto the mattress and writhe as waves of pleasure twist and throttle my deepest core muscles. We don’t need the towels Henn carefully laid out because nothing is shooting out of my cooch, as far as I can tell. But, still, it’s the most intense orgasm of my life.
When I turn my head to look at Henn, his eyes are on fire. His hand, furiously working his straining shaft. “Holy shit,” he murmurs. “That was incredible.”
I take a deep breath, shuddering with aftershocks. “I think once is enough for me tonight. It’s too intense for me to do it again.”
“Let me be your Sybian now.” To my surprise, he motions to his chin, rather than to his straining cock. “Come on, love. Ride my face. Please.” He’s invited me to try this particular sex act several times. Each time, I’ve deflected by turning the tables and taking him into my mouth. I’ve never sat on anyone’s face before, out of self-consciousness. What if I were to bear down too hard on his face and smother him? What if I’m heavier in that position than he’d anticipated, and the whole experience winds up being a huge turn-off for him and an embarrassment for me? That’s my usual thought process in moments like these, even with Henn. But not this time. Now that I’ve ridden an orgasm machine for Henn so successfully, I’m feeling adventurous. Wild. Invincible.
Breathing hard, I crawl to him on the bed, straddle his face, and grab my headboard. “Slap my ass hard if you can’t breathe,” I call down to him.
“What if I slap your ass because I’m in heaven?”
“We need a signal,” I insist. “I don’t want to find out later I fucked my dead boyfriend’s face for a full ten minutes before realizing it.”
Henn chuckles. “If I happen to die, it’ll be because I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
“We need a signal, Henn. Hurry up, or I’m going to lose my nerve.”
“Okay, if I’m dying, I’ll poke your ribs. Otherwise, if I slap, grab, pinch or otherwise assault your ass, keep going and never stop.”
“Deal.” I take a deep breath and lower myself onto Henn’s face, at which point he gets to work on me enthusiastically—with so much energy, in fact, I’m quickly screaming his name and moaning as my body warps and twists against his mouth. This orgasm isn’t quite as physically intense as the one I just experienced on the Sybian, but it feels even hotter to me than that one. It’s a thrill to know I’m face-fucking the man I love for the first time after riding a kinky orgasm machine in front of him. Who am I right now? Talk about a sign Peter Hennessey makes me feel safer and freer to explore my sexuality than ever before. The man truly is Peter the Great.
