Dirty Talking Man

"What would you like me to do?" I finally asked her, my face smeared with her juices, my rigid pole poised and ready to engage.

"Hold me," she told me. "Hold me tight." I wrapped my arms around her.

"No," she said. "Hold me down." She curled her arms above her head, and my hands followed. "Take me. Hard."

My hands gripped her wrists, not roughly, but not gently either. "That's it," she whispered. My legs straddled outside hers. My cock prodded and fumbled to find her opening. She rocked her hips from side to side, half helping, half not. With a grunt I was in, thrusting firmly until it was fully seated, the friction dragging her labia and pulling on her clit and making her shiver. Now my legs constrained hers from the outside, pushing her knees together. My cock felt huge. "That's it," she repeated. "Now fuck me."

I fucked her. Fucked her with short halfstrokes that bottomed out with a straining bending push. Her clit twitched endlessly as I fucked her with that huge cock of mine. Her body squirmed hopelessly under me, pinned down, her arms unable to move.

Her whimpers turned into moans, and then into gasping, almost screeching animal noises. "Fuck me," she growled at me, "fuck my cunt. Do it." I worked my prick in her, stretched her in broad, twisting motions that felt as if I was tearing her deliciously apart. "Fuck me!"

I fucked her. Her body shuddered with every pounding thrust, my back arched, her breasts wobbling freely beneath my chest, my fists tight around her wrists. She fought to release her hands, and when her right hand slipped away from my sweaty grasp she raked red fingernails across my back. I growled and snatched it, returning the escaped hand to join the other. "Hold me tight," she grunted at me, and now I knew why.

She came in a blind rush, that first one, arriving so fast it surprised her. I kept fucking her, relentlessly, as her body stiffened and her cunt spasmed around my hardness. Now wetter and more inflamed, I kept her on the edge, allowing her no relief. She came a second time, almost as hard as the first, then a minute later a third, blessedly weaker.

She was frenzied, fighting against my strength with all her might. "Oh fuck fuck fuck," she gasped. I groaned. Her legs struggled to get free. "Let me," she pleaded, "around you." I raised one leg, then the other, and she wrapped her legs around my hips. Now I was impossibly deeper. She felt me all the way up inside her.

"Now fuck me," she demanded, "fuck me like a slut."
I pummeled into her, and she squealed with the pleasure of it. I slammed my hips against her, filling her slick cunt with my cock that wanted all of her, as fast as I could. "Harder," she pleaded, "faster," and I tried. She held herself open to me and my belly slapped against her, liquid smacking sounds, the clickety-clack of lubrication as I pistoned in and out, always in and out.

My wail was almost imperceptible at first, then grew over a the span of a dozen strokes until it hit me, a grunting groaning impaling thrust that buried me seemingly into the pit of her stomach. She never felt my spasms that time. Hers were so overwhelming. She felt her entire vagina clamp down on my steel-hard flesh, one long drawn out almost muscle cramp of a clench, with something everything pulsing inside her and everywhere around me.

We locked together, a lewd tableau of two bodies connected at a fulcrum point of twitching, throbbing slippery heat. And when the tension melted, this time we were both breathing too hard for gentle kisses. My body, then her body, then mine again would shudder. Two horses past the finish line, straining for air.

Almost as an afterthought my hands relaxed their grip on her wrists. Only then did she feel the throbbing and the blood flowing back into her cramped fists. She opened them, flexing the creaking muscles. My cock, now softer and more flexible, was still meaty in her tender grip. I remained socketed inside her. "I hope I didn't surprise you," she whispered.

"I can't think of anyone I'd rather fuck than a restraint slut like you."