Deeper, much deeper, he speared into her. She clung to the bed sheets, hollering as her taut pussy stretched around him, protesting at his size. It hurt, but she didn’t care. She was so close to coming. Two powerful thrusts and she’d melted into a quaking mess.
“I’m coming,” she gasped.
“No!” Another thunderous slap of her bottom. The pain jolted her out of her climax before she could launch it.
Blake picked up the pace, pounding her remorselessly, beating her inner belly with the hard tip of his cock. She gushed about him as he met no resistance from her molten interior. She fought, not with Blake, but her inability to control her impending climax. Each time she implored, pleaded for release, he greeted her with an unyielding smack of his palm on her raised bottom. She didn’t understand why he wanted her to wait, why each slap made it harder to contain her orgasm. Far from feeling punished, his spanks egged her on, teased her. The pain she hated, but throbbing sensation built until the warm glow excited her sex and stiffened her nipples as they swung back and forth.
Perspiration dripped on her back, spraying down. He paused to stroke her back, a caress almost until he squeezed her shoulder, yanking her farther onto his cock.
“My legs,” she muttered. The strength ebbed in her limbs, any minute she’d collapse under him. He reached around her waist and circled a finger around her neglected clitoris.
“Oh fuck!” she screamed, coming instantly.
Blake went frantic as she clenched, contracted about his pummelling erection. Her hair tossed about her face and her legs gave out. She slumped forwards and Blake remained in her, clinging onto her as he pumped a load of his hot cum. She sensed the heat bloom in her belly as she spread-eagled on the bed.
She lay panting and when able to lift her head, she glanced behind to where Blake stood fingering his still erect cock. Beads of sweat trickled down his smooth chest and his damp hair glistened under the lights. He smiled—a generous one. He hardly seemed out of breath. God, the man was fit. How would she keep up with him?
He grabbed her ankles, flipped her over and pulled her down. Bending her legs back, until her knees touched her shoulders, he stood poised. He’d didn’t ask, he took. If she were sore, which she was, he would require her to withstand him. After months of celibacy, Blake couldn’t be stopped. She resigned herself to hours of fuckery. She didn’t care. She already wanted to come again.
* * *
The bed resembled a wreck with sheets rammed into the corners. Lysa lay next to him, eyes open, but mute, as if unable to speak. He kissed her nipple, sucking on it gently. She smiled—a sweet expression
of appreciation. He’d ravished her for hours, and now satiated and content, he took the time to show her his gentler side. He caressed her smooth skin, stroked her thighs and belly with a long sweep of his palm. She murmured, looping her arms about her head. He continued to pet her with light kisses, nuzzling her damp hair with his nose, smelling her delicious scent.
His cock lay limp, spent. She’d come alive as he tested her sexual prowess. He’d showed little consideration as he took her hard and long, commanding her to adopt numerous positions, which gave him great pleasure and her some discomfort. She’d grimaced at his actions on occasions, but it hadn’t stopped her from coming. She’d had many orgasms and he’d ensured that she begged for each one.
He gave her hip a slight shove and she obligingly turned on to her belly, snuggling her face into a pillow. Her pink bottom bore the legacy of his smacks. When he rested his hand on one buttock, the residual heat rose up to greet his cool palm. She hadn’t commented on his spanking, he didn’t expect her to, she must know he would exercise his rights. He’d not been harsh, if she yelped it was more from surprise than pain. It pleased him that she didn’t protest. He hoped her compliance would remain.
She wriggled her bottom. “Can I shower?”
He removed his hand. “Go ahead.” He watched her waddle over to the bathroom. A sheen of spilt semen daubed her inner thighs and breasts. He’d spilt over her as well as in, satisfying his craving to see her covered in his cum.
She returned a little while later and slipped on fresh panties, but no bra. She chose a knee length dress—he liked the snug fit about her hips. “Don’t wear those baggy pants again,” he said.
She shrugged. “I didn’t bring many dresses.”
“We’ll get more.” He patted the seat next to him. He’d dressed in her absence and waited for her on the comfortable sofa in the corner of the room. He’d laid out crackers, more tomatoes and a glass of water for her. She perched next to him, nibbling on the crackers.
“I’ve another surprise for you.” He crossed to the kitchen and came back with his present. He rested it on his palm.
“Is that a hardboiled egg?” She gaped at the white yolk formed into a perfect oval.
“Yep. No powdered eggs up here.”
“How in the blazes do you have these?” She accepted his offering with a broad smile. “Thank you.”
“I’ll show you soon, don’t worry.”
He returned to sitting next to her and waited for her to finish eating. When she brushed the crumbs off her legs, he leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. His pulse raced. It was time to find out the truth about his bride.
“Lysa. I know we’ve only been together for a brief while, but to me it doesn’t matter. You’ve more than proved yourself to be a wonderfully sexy lady. I fucked you hard and you took it, gave back with genuine pleasure. What more could a husband ask for?”
She put down her plate and turned a shade of crimson.
“I would like you to marry me and even if we end our time together in divorce, I hope we will always be friends.” He straightened up and caught sight of her watery eyes. “However, before I take you to the adjudicator and sign the contract, I want you to be honest with me. I know you’re not typical of Corporate wives. There’s something about you that I can’t… reconcile. Tell me what it is you’re hiding. If we’re to marry, be friends, there are to be no secrets between us.”
Lysa sprung up and paced the room, wringing her hands. Several times she halted, opened her mouth to speak, before changing her mind and returning to stalk the length of the pod.