Princely Passions 1(101)

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, gritting my teeth and picking up the pace once again. I let the rhythm grow and grow, the pressure inside of me rising to dangerous levels. My whole body tenses up as I remember how it felt to sheath my cock inside of her, her tight pussy wrapped around my shaft in the most sensual way, and my skin prickles at the thought.

With most women nowadays, I need that edge to feel that the night has been worth it. In a world of constant stimuli, I’ve stopped being able to enjoy the little things. I mean, most days I don’t even get hard when a hottie is trying to seduce me. I need the promise of something more to get excited. A threesome (or a foursome), a kink, or something outrageous like sex with the possibility of being caught. But not with Daphne; with her it's just sex... and it's better than anything else I’ve been having these past years.

If the simplicity of it left me in such a state, the memories engraved deep in my mind, I shudder to think what would happen if we went all out. I wonder how it would feel like to bend her over my desk, run my fingers over her ass cheeks and then spread them wide before I rest the tip of my cock against her asshole… She must be so tight and yet, at the same time, so eager…

God, I don’t even remember when was the last time I felt this insane over a woman. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this. The attraction I feel for Daphne is so primal and fierce that it borders the religious: I just want everything about her. I want her pussy, her ass, her mouth… I want her eyes and her voice, her touch and her moans. I want to jump into an ocean of madness and lust, and I want to drown in it.

“Daphne,” I find myself saying, her name echoing in the silent office. The room seems to become fraught with tension, my breathing grows ragged and my heart starts pumping harder, kicking and punching against my ribcage. Stroking myself faster now, I grit my teeth, as my hand becomes a blur, flying up and down the length of my shaft.

Oh, if Daphne were here right now I’d fuck her until we both collapsed from exhaustion. I’d fuck her on top of the desk, I’d fuck her against the wall, I’d fuck her on the floor. I’d slide my cock between her cherry lips, and then I’d ravage her pussy until her moans turned into screams.

My brain is boiling inside my skull right now, working at furious speed to produce a constant stream of lustful images, each one more enticing than the one before. I didn’t even know I had such a lively imagination. But when it concerns Daphne, I guess that I’m a really creative guy.

I can picture her in every imaginable position, her naked body always summoning my body. Even fantasies I didn’t know I had seem to take shape now, and I find myself growing restless for an opportunity to tie her up to a bed and tease her until she’s begging me to fuck her hard. Yeah, perhaps I should start thinking of getting a pair of handcuffs… And maybe even a blindfold, now that I’m at it.

And to think that just a few years ago Daphne was nothing more than a skinny teenager, her hair done in a ponytail. I still remember her face, innocence on her lips as she turned to leave for college, a lot of growing pains still ahead of her. Who knew that she’d turn into a woman like this? A woman capable of bringing any man down to his knees.

I don’t even know if I want to laugh or cry when I think that, for the past five years, she has been in a relationship with someone who turned out to be gay. Could there be any more irony to life? How the hell does a goddess like Daphne end up with a gay man? Well, I guess I shouldn’t complain; after all, it was that little fact that ended up bringing us together.

But screw all that; right now I’m not in the mood for deep contemplation. I can’t even think straight, to be honest with you.

My hand is going up and down so fast that I feel as if my cock is about to explode, flames of devious pleasure making the climb up my spine and exploding inside my head. I’m grinding my teeth hard, slowly breathing through my nose as beads of sweat start pooling on my forehead. My muscles are tensing up, turning from flesh into concrete, and the thoughts running through my mind are so loud that it feels like I have a jazz ensemble playing inside my skull.

Hissing loudly, my skin prickles as I feel the first spasm of my cock against my fingers. Another one follows shortly after and, before I can even prepare myself for it, a thick rope of cum jumps out from the tip of my cock and flies up into the air. It traces a high arch before finally landing on my desk, drops of semen tainting the legal briefings I was supposed to be reading.

I keep on stroking my cock, though, my mind forbidding my hand from stopping, no matter what happens. I think that I’d keep on stroking myself even if my secretary kicked the door opened and stepped inside my office with a SWAT team.