I can feel your goosebumps as I stroke your arms and pet your shoulders. I smell your scent, your sex. Your eyes are scanning, left, right, left again, and then they stop. Your nipples harden. I follow your gaze. Let's seal the deal. I reach down and move your knee, to spread your legs and present the honeypot. That's it. Lean back on the barstool. Present your breasts, present your pussy.
Good choice. Your gaze is joined. He smiles, stands straight, and makes no doubt. I lock eyes with him and nod in approval. We move, he follows. We rendezvous in a space we can claim as our own.
He is strong, handsome, and much taller than I. Christian Grey without so much Photoshop. I whisper in his ear, but he holds his focus on you. I retreat to a large beanbag chair. It's your time now.
He shows the gentle in "gentleman". He brushes your hair away from your face, and traces light circles on your forehead before brushing down your cheek and caressing your neck. He pets your shoulders and caresses your arms, and then removes your bralette.
He wraps one arm around your torso, and massages your chest with the free hand. Exploring, teasing, squeezing, making the blood flow and the warmth grow. He fingers your nipples, and your mouth is slack as your nose nuzzles his chest and breaths in his scent.
Your hand slides into his silk boxers, and tentatively explores his cock. His pubis is smooth, hairless, and tight. His cock and balls stand out from his sculpted body. Your hand explores and floats over his pubis, his cock, and circles around under his balls.
His cock is hard, and his grip around your torso is unyielding. He has you, and you have his cock. He grinds against your hand, and his reactions are not quite audible over the pulsing music.
He is no longer holding your torso. He is steering your torso. He is fucking your hand, and you can feel his engorged veins. His animal is unleashed, and his left hand rips your panties off in a violent move that scatters little faux pearls across the room.
He lifts you like a feather pillow. You are nothing to his strength. Hands gripping your ass, up, up against the wall. Your body molded against his, trapped between the hard wall and his burning, dripping lust. He aims his cock and finds the mark. In, into the connection, breaking the boundary, letting your guard down, no more rational thought, this is a supernatural ceremony.
My cock is rock hard. I am gripping my cock, squeezing my cock, and watching you melt over his cock. Your body fused to his, but the bond shaken by his thrusting. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, your nails cutting his skin. He is thrusting, you are moaning, calling out "Yes, pump me!"
My heart is fluttering, my eyes trapped in your display, and my cock is dripping. And as I entered my own subspace, he turned the level up to eleven. He lifted your legs behind the knee, folding your body in half, pressing your knees up towards your chest, and suddenly you were even smaller, more delicate in proportion to him.
You are nothing. Just a cloud of ecstasy, floating in his arms. You are splayed wide open. He is a massive cock, exploring deep in your pussy. If you could, you would open wider and take his balls into your hole.
You are grinding against each other, pubis to pubis. Dizzy, sweating, hearts beating, and then he seizes the prize. He drops his guard and uses you. He fucks you for his pleasure. He moves for his pleasure, at his rhythm, clenches his ass, steers his cock, finds that spot for him in your hole, and explodes.
The sounds of ecstatic release break through the music. My cock is lubed with precum. His muscular thighs are taught and his ass freezes at his first squirt. A few more strokes and another squirt from him, and then I explode, cumming over myself. I grip my slippery, milky cock, and watch him play out his last strokes and last drop.
Release, afterglow, climbdown, but save your clit for me. Wave goodbye to him. Come over here. I want to taste him in you.
Would you like that?
