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This man often has me screaming as his cock drives into my pussy with so much power and force that even as I feel overpowering pleasure, the episodes would certainly appear to an outsider as something violent! (But, of course, all of my screams are screams of encouragement.)
There are times he has a tight hold of my butt cheeks and moves my body up and down on his massive cock as though I'm one of those flashlight male masturbators, not a human being but simply a tool, a toy for his enjoyment. (Yeah, I scream during those times, too.)
There are times his beautiful dick stretches my asshole so widely that I can't even comprehend that such a thing is possible, that I'm even able to receive the repeated violation of my tiniest and tightest hole.
There are times I feel like I'm going to pass out with his cock cutting off all air and all thought, buried deep in my throat while my nose is pressed right against his pubic hair and his balls rest on my chin. (And sometimes, I cum hard just out of a sense of triumph because I've managed to deep-throat him.)
But none of that is happening now although we are both naked and my hand moves gently and almost delicately as I stroke his shaft. His hands move softly, and I believe the tenderness of the moment is what strikes me so powerfully. Don't get me wrong, I love when things are very intense. Hell, I love it more than I can really explain.
But at this moment, I feel the gentleness of being cared for and comforted, something I certainly don't experience from any man other than my husband.
I love this gentler side. I experience it quite a bit in non-sexual circumstances but this... this is beautiful, intimate, and almost completely new.
And suddenly I need him inside of me. Trying to move Drake is a lot like trying to move the mountain itself so instead, I move myself, scooting underneath him until I'm positioned so that I can take his cock and guide it to me. I feel him against my pussy and I let out a kind of hum of happiness as he slowly slides into me.
"Yes!" I whisper in pleasure. Drake had stopped what he was doing in order to allow me to position myself. He resumes his gentle massage of my body, his hands moving almost tenderly as they move over me.
"My good girl," he whispers softly.
I lift my arms and wrap them around his body, my hands sliding over his back and down to his butt, cupping his gorgeous ass and pulling him deeper into me. He's so big that he fills me up entirely, pressing against all of my soft spots on the inside, making my pussy feel like it's overstuffed with cock.
But I don't care. I love it when I feel like my body is going to burst with sensations that are in no way painful but still completely overwhelming.
I try to control my voice, to keep it as quiet as I can because I don't want to risk interrupting this. "I love you," I whisper, "I love you so much."
"I love you, too," he whispers back.
His lips find mine and he kisses me tenderly. My breathing becomes shallow and I close my eyes. I realize that this is the first time in a very long while that we've made love in this sort of slow, unhurried way.
In our lives right now, hurrying is usually necessary.
"I love you, too," he whispers, "so fucking much."
He holds me close to him and his hands reach for my hair. He pulls it back from my face which puts a strain on the muscles in my neck. I don't care, both because the very slight pain thrills me and also because I'm in the mood for him to do as he pleases.
He could make me do just about anything right now. Hell, he could make me do just about anything at any time at all. It's hard to describe. Sometimes even when we're not in one of our more intense moments, he can bring out something in me that makes me feel almost completely submissive. Not completely but almost.
I trust him. I know he loves me. I know he'd never hurt me or allow anyone else to hurt me. Still, there's something about this that makes me feel almost powerless. Of course, knowing his nature must surely impact that, right?
I want to be powerless. I want to be in his hands. I want to feel as though my entire life is in his hands, that he has complete control over me... over everything. I feel the tears forming in the corners of my eyes. I don't know why. I don't cry very often and I certainly don't cry during sex. Maybe it's because I'm so overwhelmed. "I love you," I whisper again.
And then I scream, “Drake!” as my orgasm hits. The climax is enough that I swear it might drive me absolutely insane! It feels so strange to have such a powerful orgasm from such gentle, sweet, and romantic attention. Hell, even when his fingers tangled in my hair and he pulled so he could kiss my neck and throat… I mean, even that seemed sweet.
And, of course, the scream did the trick. I don’t mean for Drake or for me. I mean we hear the stirring of the twins one room away. Sure enough, Jenna cries out, “Mommy!” her voice reveals her age of two years but her enunciation is extraordinary. Drake says she and Oliver speak as they do, with a vocabulary and understanding at least as high as junior high school students, because of their dragon nature.
Drake kisses me and withdraws. “Oh, Baby,” I whisper, “You didn’t get to finish.”
He smiles and when I try to get up, he gently pushes me back. “I will attend to them,” he says. He stands and reaches for a robe. “And don’t worry about me, love. I’ll finish later.” His eyes narrow as he looks at me, “and I will finish many, many times.”
My breath catches in my throat. I’m still cumming slightly but his words suddenly make me ravenous for him. How in the world can a girl be in the midst of orgasm, the culmination of desire, and then suddenly desperate for sex?
I guess a girl can be all that when she’s with Drake.
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