I buck upwards, losing my panties, gasping as he holds me, and then down he moves again, his hand grazing the side of my chest as he nuzzles his dark, grizzly beard against my breast. Sharp prickles of hair pierce the light material of my nightie and I moan softly as he pulls back an inch, and circles his prey. And then he strikes and I cry out and twist as his mouth and lips wrap around my nipples and clamp down.
‘Oh, yes,’ I whimper, my wrists tugging hard at my restraints. ‘Yes.’
His tongue swirls, leaving the soft silk wet, the tip of my nipple drenched in his enthusiasm as he swings to the other side and bites down again. At the same time his hand, until now gently stroking me, caresses my bereft breast and squeezes me gently. Then down he goes, over my tummy, over the hem of my risen nightie, and his kiss sets me ablaze.
His rough lips meeting the soft skin of my tummy light a fire inside of me that I know I’ll never extinguish; a flame that will only ever grow, and I buck and twist as he holds me tight. Down and down he goes, until at last he reaches my warmth, and there he pauses, an inch away, so close I can feel his breath tickling my bare lips, and all he does is stare.
And I feel special. More than special. He marvels at my sex, his eyes filled with reverence, unfiltered and true, no mask, no act, just pure veneration. Then he licks his lips, opens his mouth, and tastes me… and I quiver with ecstasy.
‘Yes,’ I say as his tongue parts my slit, running from bottom to top and then around my clit, his expert mouth wasting no time at all as he circles me steadily.
And then to my immediate frustration, he stops and stands, removing his jeans, throwing down his shirt, the white garment still hung loosely around his shoulders, and for a moment he rises before me in the moonlight, all six-foot-three of him, pure muscle and rage… and he glowers.
I pale as he comes forward, his powerful member held throbbing and forthright in his hand, like a rod of steel jetting forth between his thighs. He kneels before my legs, and slowly parts them, moving forward until his cock lays upon my tummy, the tip almost reaching the curve of my breasts, and there he lets go of it, and I feel the weight of him against my skin.
Back he pulls himself, running the tip through my parting, pausing and teasing me, up and down, then he pushes in a little way as I gasp and twist; tiny, gentle thrusts until he’s soaked in me, before he retreats all the way back, and angles himself down.
Oh fuck.
This is it.
He’s going to fuck me in the ass.
I’ve never let anyone do this. I am his. His virgin. He is my first, and for a moment I wonder if I am his as I wait for his touch, my body straining for him, my asshole fluttering as he moves imperceptibly forward, and then there it is, his throbbing head, gently pushing at my back door.
I close my eyes, open my mouth, lean back, and quiver… and a heartbeat later I can feel him against me, his swollen tip dripping with pre-cum, irregular pulses driving him, surprising him, and I sense him tense, all of his muscles preparing as he bears forward and pushes.
And my world spins.
For a moment the pressure is overwhelming, too intense, too much, and then I feel myself somehow flower open, and in he slides, and I gasp aloud.
‘Fuck,’ I cry out.
He stops, and I realise he’s waiting.
Waiting for me. Waiting until I’m ready.
The tip of his member throbs with desperation, the barest thread holding him back from finishing right now and pumping me full of his seed, but I don’t want that. I want him to fuck me, to satisfy himself until he’s truly spent, until he quakes and cries out and collapses onto me, his body shuddering with satisfaction as he breathes and shivers and empties himself.
I nod.
And then in he pushes, his thick head popping inside of me, his shaft filling my tight little hole inch by slow inch as he goes deeper and deeper, all the while his thumb keeps circling me and his eyes are on me, watching himself slide inside, unblinking until a few breathes later, he stops.
‘Where’s my cock?’ he whispers.
‘In my ass,’ I say.
‘How does it feel?’
‘Huge,’ I gush, the sensation all-encompassing.
‘I want you to come for me, Mackenzie,’ he says. ‘I want you to come with me.’
And then he thrusts, and my whole body thrums.
*
Every facet of my soul is dedicated to not coming right now.