I smacked his ass in retaliation and because I’d seen the same inflicted on some large breasted actress in the videos I sometimes watched when self-pleasure alone didn’t get the job done.
Bryan made a noise that suggested both surprise and pleasure. I liked it.
“Feisty,” he murmured.
I’d never been called feisty before. I liked that too.
I opened my legs wider, wanting absolutely all of him.
By this time, I was gasping, overloaded with sensation. He abused my nipples, which was good. And my cunt, which was better. It felt as though my clit, already overly sensitive from his tongue, now burned with the pummeling of his pelvis. Done right, pain can be a handmaiden to pleasure, and he was doing it right.
What was languid before was now animal. Sheer bestial rutting.
Again the glow in my core and the first contractions of my abdomen. I tightened around him, partly to feel him better, partly to bring him to the brink. Into this tight, hot hole he thrust, losing the rhythm a little. Almost there.
I pinched his nipples between my fingernails. He inhaled sharply and then punished me with three, four hard thrusts.
Pinching harder, I let myself go. A molten gush emanated from me and for a moment I lost myself in that throbbing space where we met.
He followed with a roar, though that might just have been the blood pounding in my head.
Soon he collapsed on me and both of us fought to catch our breath. Our sweat rolled off my body and onto the sheets.
I was sorry to feel him go when we disengaged and he dealt with the rubber.
He returned, stretched out next to me, and said, “You drained me.”
“Good.”
There comes a time when the world intrudes on whatever temporary little cocoon you’ve built, when the spell has dissipated and the present re-establishes itself. It was the inevitable letdown after sensual mindlessness.
I wondered: what was this for him? A screw that fell into his lap? Why not? It had been for me. Fact was, I wanted more. Pathetic really, thinking that a one-off could and should lead to more.
But I took a chance. “I’d like to do this again,” I said.
He pursed his lips, looking serious. Glancing at me and then away.
My heart sank.
Finally he smiled. “Maybe we could go out first. Let me woo you now that we’ve got this consummation business out of the way.”
What a lovely accent, I thought. And a lovely, reassuring statement. I smiled back. “Wooing sounds good.”
I got dressed while he lay naked on the bed.
As I turned to go, he asked, “I’m curious — why do you “Helin” written above your pussy?”