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“I understand, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.” Every muscle in my body was straining. My arms ached from resisting the urge to touch myself. My hips and thighs burned with the need to move. And I felt empty, so empty and incomplete without his touch.
He pushed into me again, and this time, he didn’t stop at a few inches. He pushed my legs back, so that my knees were practically touching my ears. I worried the plug might be forced out, and I squeezed on it, desperately trying to hold it in place as he filled my cunt. The pinching pressure inside me grew, a hot, painful spiral that sent shivers down my limbs as I took his entire length in.
“There. Is that better?” he asked, one hand locked possessively around my throat.
“Yes, Sir,” I gasped hoarsely.
He leaned down and kissed the track of a tear on my cheek. “Is the crying something I should be concerned about?”
I shook my head as best I could with his hand around my neck. “No, Sir.”
What I wanted to say, to scream, was, “Don’t stop fucking me, please, don’t stop fucking me or I’ll die.” Because I felt that, with every part of my soul. The only thing I wanted, the only thing I needed at that moment was to come, and the thick column of his erection raking every part of my over-aroused cunt was pleasurable enough to be painful, now.
He fucked me slowly, steadily, going deep and pulling out while I clutched on him. Twice, I felt the beginning of an orgasm start to grip me, and he went completely still, ordered me to breathe and fight against it. I wanted to come, wanted to come on his cock and feel him pulse in me. I had gone past some crucial point of control, and I could no longer reason with my tortured body and desperate mind. I had to either come, or safeword.
“Is it too much?” he asked, when I panted and cried out with another denied orgasm painfully knotting in my groin.
“Please, Sir,” I whimpered. “Please let me come. Please let me come or I’m... I’m...”
Still slowly moving inside me, he reached down and pulled the plug from my ass. “Are you ready for me, Sophie?”
“C-can I come? Please, Sir?” My fingernails dug into my palms. “While you’re fucking my ass, can I come?”
He groaned, his eyes shut tight. He went motionless inside me, just for a moment, visibly fighting for control of his body. Taking a deep breath, he eased out of my pussy. “Yes. You most certainly can. Wait here a moment.”
When he tucked himself away, he didn’t take off the condom or zip up. Which meant he wasn’t planning on wearing those pants much longer. I willed myself to relax; I’d had anal sex plenty of times. And he’d been my first. It hadn’t been awful then, and it wouldn’t be awful now. If I remembered correctly, it was going to be unbelievable.
He carried the glass plug back to the table and picked up the massager. I trembled as he approached with it.
“I’ve been dying to get the chance to use this on you.” He leaned over and plugged the cord and its voltage adapter into the wall.
Why, oh why, didn’t I listen to him when he’d said that this was going to be one of those, “Be careful what you wish for” scenarios?
He stood there, considering me, my body splayed out, a thin sheen of sweat covering my goose-pimpled skin.
“All right.” He motioned for me to turn over. “On your hands and knees. Over those pillows.”
Shaking with need and unbearable anticipation, I arranged the pillows and laid across them, my bottom in the air.
“I think that will do. We’ll leave this here...” He pushed the soft, tennis-ball sized tip of the wand between my vulva and the pillows, and with one probing fingertip, parted my labia so that my clit ground against the vibrator. Just the careful adjustments were bringing me close to the point of no return again; what would happen when he turned it on?
He slid the switch and the thing buzzed to furious life against my clitoris. I gasped at the force of the vibration. I was closer, closer, there in a matter of seconds, and I squealed into the duvet as my body shook with the ridiculous strength of my long-denied orgasm. My calves cramped, and I was pretty sure my lungs were going to burst. Grateful breaths exploded from my hoarse throat as I twisted in the grips of unrelenting, powerful pleasure. After what had seemed like hours of anticipation, the bubble had burst, and I was left a sweating, shaking heap, my muscles too wrung out and tired to move.
But the vibrator was still on, buzzing hard against me, and another climax followed close on the heels of the first. I frantically tried to wriggle away from the wand, and Neil’s hands bracketed my thighs, holding me down.
