Echoes of Joy

Joy had two fingers up Marc's ass and his cock half-way down her throat. This wasn't a special occasion, but it wasn't the sort of thing they did all the time either. Joy was on top of Marc, with her pussy right in his face, so he was definitely holding up his end of the bargain.

Marc loved eating Joy's pussy. He was good at it, as evidenced by Joy's cries of satisfaction every time he went to work. His skill at this particular endeavour was a defining aspect of his relationship with Joy.

She had never been with a man who was quite so adept at pulling an orgasm out of her. Most other men simply enjoyed themselves when they fucked Joy, and luckily for her, she enjoyed getting fucked.

While Joy usually settled for a pleasant sensation with these guys, the full body release that Marc regularly succeeded in giving her was unlike anything she had felt before. Her clit became a beacon that echoed ecstasy throughout the caverns of her physical and emotional selves.

The reverberations were almost painful, a confusing side-effect that would elicit sounds from Joy that sometimes worried Marc, for he hadn't been with many women. Or so he had told Joy. In fact, he was a virgin when they met. She suspected as much.

Marc's naivete is what drew Joy to him. Even if he was not experienced, so to speak, it was the experiences he continually gave Joy that truly overwhelmed her. It's why she felt obligated to reciprocate when he asked her, rather sheepishly, to shover her finger up his ass one day.

This caught Joy off guard. No man had ever made such a request of her. Many of them had asked if they could stick things in her ass, which didn't surprise her, but she never went for it, regardless of how she considered herself to be sexually adventurous.

That was the spirit in which Joy agreed to essentially fuck Marc up the butt. He was sitting on the couch in her apartment, about to get a blow job, as any man would enjoy, when he grabbed her right hand and gave her middle finger fellatio instead.

Marc's lips kept an air-tight seal on Joy's strong, slender digit, while his tongue slathered it with more than enough syrupy saliva to give it an easy insertion. When he finally freed the finger from his mouth, a cascade of excess drool splashed over her hand like some vaginal discharge.

The adrenaline surging through Joy's body could have been mistaken for testosterone. So, when Marc sat back and lifted his legs up, spreading his butt cheeks wide to expose his tight anus, she didn't hesitate to push her lubricated finger straight into it just as if pushing a button.

Joy was surprised by how easily her finger went in, going as far as the second knuckle. She heard Marc inhale deeply but didn't see any indication of pain on his face. Joy was almost disappointed, getting the suspicion he had done this before on his own.

In the hope of surprising him, Joy twisted her hand around and hooked her finger inside of him. At this, Marc held his breath and clenched his teeth. Joy wanted to see how far Marc wanted to take this, perhaps going somewhere he never considered himself.

Using her middle finger like a crowbar, Joy was able to pry open Marc's rectum just enough to smuggle her index finger into it. Before Marc realized Joy had two fingers in his ass, she suddenly spat right onto the orifice, like a snake spraying its venom.

This gave Joy's fingers the right amount of glide as she began to thrust them in and out of Marc's butthole. The look on his face confessed this was something new. His mouth was agape, but unable to make a sound or even take a breath at this point.

Instead, Marc frantically stuck out his tongue and dragged his right hand across it, like a horse at the salt lick, clutched his dick with a palm full of spit and began pumping away., Between that and Joy's participation, Marc resembled a sexual steam engine, its pistons moving at full speed.

Marc looked into Joy's eyes and could tell that even though she wasn't being pleasured herself that she was nevertheless taking pleasure from this position she had assumed. It was totally backwards from what most of her previous sexual life had been, but it felt all too natural.

As if suddenly realizing that her left hand was free, Joy reached down to her pussy to find her clit. Surprisingly, it was almost as difficult for her to do this as it was for any man. Beyond the patch of hair and enveloping curtains of flesh protecting it, she finally located the tiny nodule.

Even if her clit immediately responded to the slightest touch, Joy had to catch up with Marc, who was nearly at his destination, judging by the intensity building in his face. It became a race to see who could come first. Such a contest between men would be comical.

In this case, Joy was an underdog, not only being up against a man who had been jerking off for a while, but also simply being a woman. The members of her gender know that true pleasure must be earned.

As much effort as Marc would normally put into going down on her, continually proving his tongue was the strongest muscle in his body, Joy had an unseen part to play in this labor. The lines of communication throughout her body had to be open and willing to accept the sort of morse code being transmitted through her clit. Only then could she receive the message.

Even as Joy's fingers did the work on this particular occasion, the rules weren't any different. Her physical self had to be able to talk to her emotional self. An orgasm was guaranteed if they could come to an agreement.

Although she usually masturbated with her right hand, which was more than occupied now with pumping those two fingers in and out of Marc's ass, Joy was doing spectacularly well keeping up the stimulation with her left hand. She found a synchronicity with Marc's stroking rhythm.

It was no longer a competition, but a shared experience that had no dominant or subservient positions. Their eyes were locked on one another with such focus that they could see themselves from the other's perspective.

Like two surfers catching the same wave of ecstasy, Joy and Marc simultaneously released their own individual sounds of gratification. While Joy's was something akin to a victorious deliverance, Marc's was more of an internalized growl.

Marc's sphincter tightened around Joy's two fingers, threatening to swallow them whole. As Joy rubbed out the culmination on her cunt, shots of cum blasted from Marc's cock back onto his chest and even his face. It was a baptism with what seemed like someone else's semen.

Their relationship was reborn after this experience as its message of consummation continued to echo throughout each successive engagement when they came together. Marc found his Joy and she made her mark on him. They were on this adventure together. They were as one.