Her hair was lank. It hung in curtains around her face and trailed dismally over his chest. She wriggled. Her hands were flat against his firm muscles. She flexed her fingers and felt the skin pucker under her nails. She was so full, the hardness so deep into her being, that every small movement magnified into a groan of inner pressure. She pushed harder with her hips, twisted them, grinding and pressing her stiff clit into his pelvis. Exhaustion ran through her in waves. Her arms shook, her legs ached, and she would end it now, explode upon him if he would let her.
She leaned forward to relieve the growing frustration just a small bit, felt her nipples brush his chest hair and the feeling made her moan. He bucked and sent waves of sensation rippling through her. Thrill and need, delight and ache. There was a bruised feeling so high up that she knew she will have pangs of remembrance for days after this. She moaned with anguish and delight.
He bucked again and again. Her hair slid up onto his shoulder and covered the sides of his face so that they became lovers hidden away from the world. Two children in a play fort made of covers and secrets. Another forceful push from him and this time she shrieked "Oh. I can't hold it. Oh please."
Her thighs were shaking and tremors ripped through her arms. Her breasts shook, swaying in time to a rhythm she felt pounding in her groin. Perspiration trickled down her spine and pooled in the hollow made by her raised buttocks. She felt her juices running out over his pole and wondered how she had any left. Bizarrely, she wondered about them trailing down over his balls and if he would make her lick them clean when he finished with her here. She moaned at the thought.
He will grab her hair and yank her head to his throbbing cock. He'll tell her to lick it clean, make her take it in her mouth and he'll pull her all the way onto it. Then pull her head away and force her to his balls, telling her to lick them good. She'll lap at them until every drop of her has been taken off. She'll use her tongue to pull and tug at them, make them bounce and tense. She'll think of them full and needing release. When he shoves her mouth onto his hard pole again, she'll do everything to get at that store of jism.
Her thoughts were making her shake harder than ever. Moans were being forced from her throat with or without the rod impaling her thrusting upward. Every upward jolt, though, pushed an extra moan past her constricted throat and met a flood of liquid gushing down through her flowering sex.
"Please," she whispered in a hoarse voice that no longer sounded like her own. "I can't stop it." The shudders were wracking her frame, her head was about to burst.
His hands grabbed the cord tied around her wrists and jerked it over his head. She fell forward onto his chest, her mouth inches from his and he closed that gap. Kissed her hard. Crushed her lips against his teeth. Turned his cheek so her head fell next to his and spoke into her ear. It made her jump and his hard length sank deeper into her, making her groan so loudly she could barely hear him.
"Is this what you wanted?"
Shivers met every syllable. Her organs melted and her flesh drew away from her, reaching out for him. Yes. This is what she wanted. What she'd asked for.
He had been giving her a choice. Toying with her. His torment of her building with each session. Since the very first time he'd tied her and held her inches from orgasm for so long she'd screamed and babbled at him. Even reared up in anger and frustration. He'd held her until the agony passed, then made her climax in an earthshattering moment that broke her inside. Freed her from the convention she'd lived her life by. When she'd stopped screaming and wound down into a gasping, sobbing kind of breathless heap, he'd asked her how she wanted to cum next. She hadn't been able to think then, so he offered her several choices and she remembers saying "Yes, please," to each and every one. He made her pick one first, then made her orgasm each of the ways she'd said yes to.
