His fingers sought out her arousal, discovering her wetness. “I want you, Laura. I need to be in you,” he murmured, her eyelids fluttering shut and her brain bending into a pretzel, twisted by a sudden lust, a lushness to his words, their presence, this now that made her want to immerse herself in Dylan forever.
You would think she would be sated from what he had done with that skilled tongue, but a new wave renewed within. She wanted every inch of him, however he was willing to give it. Laura needed to impale herself on him, to ride that shaft, to feel his body on top, to have his hands on her, in her, over her—whatever her—and she wanted to exert control once again, to be controlled, to just—
Have more.
Shoving him on the bed, she put her legs on either side of his hips, the rasp of leg hair and flesh like music to her ears, his mere touch connecting her to a confidence she enjoyed. Aiming him carefully, she hovered over him, savoring the seconds, his eyes locked with hers, the skin around them warm and inviting, and she plunged herself directly over his gloriously-thick shaft. He was eager and pulsing, and she groaned when he went all the way in.
What she wanted to say was something profound, the right words to match what her body was screaming. Instead, she sighed, “Oh, Dylan,” for the feeling was indescribable, a denouement, emotional and psychological, all at once. Like a real hole being filled, finding a being strong enough to fill it.
As she stretched up to his tip, sliding up his pole was a sweet sensation, her body moving toward a screaming orgasm more amazing than any before. He licked one hand and stroked her nipple; he was spasming her pussy. Moving slightly, changing everything, Laura slid enough to make him beg, tightened her cunt, then plunged down again.
“Holy shit! You have a magic pussy. You are so, so tight, so warm,” he convulsed. She sighed, the feeling too intense. She didn’t have a mind, just an ass he grabbed and nerve endings and her fullness.
He took charge, both standing now, bending her over the bed, tummy down. One hand slid him in as he took her doggie style, his other hand in her hair. She reached for her clit as he dove into her, face buried in the bed.
She thrust back against his cock, the pleasure so insane, the force of his tip against her cervix making her scream. She clenched the bedsheets, her fists tightening, her finger finding her clit a swollen, hot mess ready to explode.
“Ah, GOD!” And she screamed and screamed and rutted, an animal of need as wetness hit her, knew she was spurting, felt him jerk and jizz filling her with his semen, her pussy one big fuck bucket, as he screamed, too.
“Laura! Fuck me!” He couldn’t speak any longer, she stopped thinking and her body tried so much to come as hard as it could, her flesh determined to work with the magnitude of climax as his slickness and the power of his legs moving him in and out of her turned their coupling into a well-oiled machine.
He pounded and pounded, she thrust back, he stroked her belly, and created a tiny pain, the pain all blending with the creaming and the cum to split her voice into something fierce and low, until all that was left was a drained feeling, all sex and candy and heaven.
They came down, little aftershocks from the remainders of their sex, Dylan still in her, as he melted into her, trapping her, their wetness all she knew. She stopped thinking, her pussy done, her body relaxed, all sated.
“Oh, man...” he mumbled into her back, hot breath ticklish and sweet.
She turned around and pressed into him. “Oh, no. Oh, woman, ” she replied, a wicked grin plastered across her face as she kissed him.
How long had they been asleep? Laura wondered as she peered into the grey darkness, Dylan’s arm covering her bare breasts, the sheets tangled between them.
The post-coital haze lessened and reality sunk in. She realized that they were here in his apartment, and then it was— Oh, no!
When she checked her smart phone it read 3:22 a.m. Well, what was the right thing to do? Should she stay? She looked down at this tender, precious, hot, naked man who had just devoured her in every way possible, and felt a giant rippling sense of guilt.
He seemed to be into her in this whole one night-stand thing. She was frankly accustomed to bringing the guy back to her place and then having the guy leave right after everything was over. This was new territory for her and she wasn’t sure. Should she stay? Wake up early, make him breakfast? Lifting his arm off her, she slowly stood, stretching and examining the room.
As she looked around his bedroom, she started to notice pictures. Pictures of Dylan with a woman on the beach holding surfboards, a woman in a stringed bikini, and then another picture of the same woman in a sport bikini playing beach volleyball. And then another of what looked like the same woman standing at the ski slope along with another man. Yet another picture of the same woman on the snowboard doing some sort of flip in mid air.