Instead, he puts his member against it and opens into her with a hard, inelegant thrust. Despite her cavalier attitude, he can feel the slick pleasure that had been building up inside her, the heat of her own patient desire. She swallows him up, pressing on his need from every angle, joining their juices in mutual warmth. He doesn't stop to savor her, though. As soon as he has felt inside of her, he can't help but satisfy that most primal urge to do it again, and again and again. His hips buck, his ass clenches, his thighs flex, and his breath comes in the same rapid rhythm that he invokes between her legs. It's the only thing on his mind, the only thing he exists for.
She, too, can't help the little grunts of gratification that leak out of her between melodic laughter at his embarrassing predicament. He truly looks like an utter fool, his brow creased in concentration and beading with sweat. His demeanor before had been pensive, deliberate, even beautiful. But now he is a snorting rothe, his posture hunched and his movements ragged and ugly. His pants are forgotten around his ankles. His musk is heavy and frantic. The chaise creaks beneath his efforts, as if to join in on her laughter.
He tries to kiss her with the same lips that took in her feet, but she pushes him away with an amused grimace. "Ew, never," she declares, throwing her head back to enjoy a long, lusty moan. Her breasts have bounced free of her robes, so he attends to those instead. He takes her dark nipples into his mouth, sucking and licking and worshiping her perfect tits with his worthless tongue. All the while he never stops pumping, her own personal piston. His heart is beating out of his chest, his legs are cramping with their endless struggle, but these are petty complaints drowned in the wake of his only true purpose: fucking her.
Suddenly the incessant slapping of their thighs comes to a halt, and she gasps in anticipation of the moment that follows. He spasms, his own orgasm catching him by surprise, like he'd been lost in a timeless oblivion of desire that he'd never escape. A long, pathetic whimper whistles out of his tight throat as he empties himself in glorious release, breeding her like the animal he is. He indulges in a few more weak thrusts, his eyes vulnerable and soft as he meets her dagger-like gaze.
"Did you have fun, darling?"
It is all he can do not to answer her; his silence is all that is left of his dignity. She allows him this, if only because she isn't done with him yet.
"Mm, but I'm just getting started. Get down there and suck your cum out of me. Don't stop until I tell you to."
He scoffs, but the noise is a weak defiance. Only after it does he realize that he is still hard. The climax allowed him a few spare seconds of clarity, but the poison's hunger is not sated. The twinge of her command pulses in his exhausted heart and his raw cock. He gasps for air, looking down at himself in disbelief. But soon the lust overtakes him again.
Dropping to his knees, he reasons that she'll let him fuck her again when she's empty of him. It's the only chance he has to relieve this unceasing ache of desire. Without pause, he buries his face between her legs, lapping up the cream that was already leaking out. The salty taste of himself is demeaning. The sloppy technique of his eager tongue is unworthy of his station. All of his training is forgotten in that eternal moment, the sweet nectar of her pussy mixed with his bitter disgrace.
The last of it is soon cleaned from her plump, throbbing labia, but he knows he is not done. He pries his tongue into the hole that had once held his thumping cock, searching for every last drop of his own cum. So much for breeding her; he is taking it all back, any scrap of his undeserving manhood purged from her divine channel. He opens his mouth tall, sucking on the soft velvet of her pussy as his tongue presses ever inward. He might have heard her moan, but for now the organ in front of him is his entire world. Meanwhile the poison pulses in the cock in his hand, fully erect and nearing a fresh climax that would surely give him as little satisfaction as the last.
Her exposed breasts heaving with her mounting pleasure, she looks lazily over toward tall glass windows framed by heavy, open curtains. Beyond is a beautiful view of the underground city from a high vantage, and she wonders idly if anyone can see in. But then his tongue flicks over her clit. Her eyes close like a gasp and she reaches down to wring her fingers into his once coiffed hair.
Time is lost to each of them then, that keen moment of pleasure rising in them both. He can feel her begin to pulse beneath his lips, her breath quickening, and so too does he quicken his hand on his own pathetic phallus. She presses him into her groin by the back of his head, wrapping her legs urgently around him. His expert tongue flails wildly within her, as if to tug her orgasm free... and soon he does.
Suddenly her body begins jerking around him as her climax overtakes her. Her eyes go blank, her nipples point toward the ceiling, and she cries out. It is a long, sweet noise, which ends with a low, satisfied chuckle. She remains clamped around him for a few more seconds, allowing him to continue licking and suckling through her glorious aftershocks. Then she pushes him roughly away.
His weak knees crumple beneath him, his swollen cock still at attention between his tired legs. He strokes it hard and fast, nearing a second completion, looking at her expectantly.
"Good boy." She says with a contented inhale. Then her red eyes spy the movement of his hand. She utters a single breath of a laugh. "Oh. No, darling. I'm done."
"But..." His brow furrows helplessly, his hips bucking with his insatiable need. His hand falls away from his alert cock, a pathetic whine peeling out of his tight throat. "How... how long?"
"A few more hours at least. But I have no further use of you."
"What? Please..."
"Get dressed. You're excused."
