There's something magic about the smell of earth. The feel of it under your fingers. You can grab at it like the hair of your lover. Pull your face close to it, while you are being fucked from behind. Hold onto it, while a hard cock pushes into you. And into you. And into you.
At some point your face is all the way down, and his hand is holding your neck. Not really in a caressing way but not harsh, but a considerate forcing. Just the way I like it.
The cycle goes something like this: first he goes in, starts a rhythm, gets me going, then I rev up and clench up which feels powerful and pleasure will rip through me like pestilence through a field. I don't like that analogy but that's what it does: Total annihilation. what the French call I don't know what... I mean... The Little Death.
So as this dick is sliding in and out I clench and he has trouble staying in. Here I thought that my pussy, battered by childbirth, stretched countless times by large objects, was not tight. But here I am spitting out this rock hard giant because I think he's going soft. He's not. He is being squeezed out because my pussy is strong. I've been lifting weights.
But then the rush subsides and a wave of calm spreads through my pussy like gentle waves on a beach. I let go and because of the wet and wildness of what just happened, it feels like a feather.
For a moment.
Then: he takes full advantage of the open, soft snatch and goes deep. He goes deeper than I think I've ever felt. To the left and up into its own zip code. In my mind, I pictured its head pushing out the soft part in front of my hip. Over and over until he slowed...