He responds by flipping me onto my back.
I do away with my panties.
He slides his hand between my legs.
I nearly come from the contact of his thumb against my clit. I have to kiss him harder. I have to dig my hands into his hair.
Even then, it's not enough. Every brush of his thumb winds me tighter. Tighter. So tight I can barely take it.
Then I'm there, groaning against his lips as I come, pleasure rocking through my pelvis, spilling all the way to my fingers and toes.
It's almost too much to take.
He rubs me through my orgasm, then he slips two fingers inside me. He warms me up, slowly at first, then faster.
"You're wet." He groans into my neck.
I nod. Then I let my head fall back. This is good. Too good.
He stretches me again. Again.
And, again, I'm too overwhelmed to respond.
Again.
I reach for his button. His zipper.
I rub him over the fabric of his boxers.
"Fuck." He groans into my neck as he reaches for the condom. Then it's his jeans, his boxers.
And he's there, naked in my bed.
We're naked in my bed.
He rolls the rubber over his cock; he spreads my legs’ he brings our bodies together.
He fills me with one slow, steady stroke.
I'm ready. I take him with ease, even as he stretches me wider, drives deeper.
I wrap my legs around his hips, and I kiss him hard.
We stay locked like that, moving together, bodies a tangled mess as he pumps into me again and again.
I don't think. I raise my hips to meet him; I kiss him hard; I rake my nails over his back.
Every thrust winds me tighter and tighter, but it's not enough. The angle isn't there.
Then I shift my hips and it is.
An internal clitoral orgasm.
Fuck. I know too much. But I don't care about that either. Only about finding another round of satisfaction.
I dig my nails into his back and I raise my hips to meet him. Again and again, the two of us winding me tighter and tighter.
Then I'm there, my sex pulsing around him, pulling him closer.