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“Not tonight. Just for one night, I just want to feel. Please,” she pleas.
This is supposed to be an illicit night. This isn’t the time or place to psychoanalyze her life. As it stands, I may never see her again.
I drop the subject.
“All right. You want to feel? Hold on for the ride.”
She moans as I pump my fingers in and out of her, plunging into her with an increased intensity that makes me desperate to sink my hard cock into her. I close my lips over her clit, causing her back to arch off the bed all over again.
Two slow, wicked thrusts, and she reaches the precipice. Her screams of ecstasy bounce off the walls as she rides my face—and my hand—like a woman possessed, wringing every last drop of pleasure from my fingers while her tight pussy clenches and pulses with her climax.
Slowly, I pull my fingers out and get off the bed.
A frustrated whine tears from her lips.
“I can’t fuck you fully dressed, sweetness.”
“Oh, of course,” she lets out a shy laugh.
I strip naked, roll on a condom in record time and climb back on the bed.
I lift her legs so they rest on the crook of my arms, lining my cock at her entrance.
I hope I survive this.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” I say, inching in.
She clamps down on me, making it difficult to slide in further.
On second thought, I’m not going to survive this.
That is one tight pussy.
I withdraw and then push in again, further this time.
A pleading moan leaves her lips.
“Can I feed you more of my cock?”
“Yes,” she says, breathless.
I push deeper, forcing my way.
Even though she’s slippery wet, it’s still a struggle.
She groans. “You’re huge.”
“I’m a big guy,” I concede.
“No, you’re huge,” she insists. “And so, so hard.”
“I told you how much I wanted you.”
“I still can’t believe you feel this way about me. I mean, we just met.”
“Believe it,” I tell her. “When it’s right, it’s right.”
“I like hearing that,” she smiles warmly.
