Happy to bring her to completion again, I experiment with different suction pressures, using my teeth, harder, then softer until she lets out a guttural wail, her body tightening as she orgasms for a second time.
Watching her, I take a mental picture of the joyous pleasure that fills her expression, then monitor her as it slowly starts to settle, replaced with a contented exhaustion that I look forward to seeing her express again very soon.
Despite my desire to keep my penis inside of her vagina, her squirming has caused some of my ejaculate to seep from inside of her, and I can feel cooling wetness making a mess beneath us.
Reluctantly, I withdraw my penis from inside of her, watching as my wet, softening length is revealed. For the first time, I take notice of her vagina and the way her opening doesn’t immediately become hidden behind her labia.
Cataloging the position of her legs and the way her spread thighs showcase her body, I memorize the way she’s displayed and how appealing her recently penetrated vagina looks. The longer I stare at her, the more aroused I become, and I question if I should penetrate her again now or if I should wait until later.
“What did we just do?” Octavia whispers.
“We consummated our marriage,” I assure her simply.
“We’re not married. We’re not together. We barely know each other. Why did I let you just…fuck me?”
“I penetrated you because it’s what we both needed. We consummated our relationship in our bed for the first time, and I believe you enjoyed yourself. I felt your body reach completion twice, which I understand is above average, especially the first time you have sexual relations with a new partner.”
“You penetrated me?” she says, her face twisting into a grimace. “Can’t you just say you fucked me?”
“Is that the vernacular you’d prefer?” I question.
“Yes. Saying you penetrated me feels clinical. At least calling it fucking feels like there was some emotion behind it,” she says, her tone sad.
“If that’s what you’d prefer, I’m willing to call sexual intercourse fucking from now on,” I confirm.
“I need to use the bathroom,” she says, closing her legs and hiding herself from me as she scrambles to the edge of the bed.
“I’ll show you where it is, then we’ll take a nap. You’re tired,” I inform her.
“I can’t stay here. I need to figure out where I’m going to live,” she says, more to herself than me, as she walks a little stiffly toward the open bathroom door.
“You live here. This is our home. I built it for us,” I explain, following her.
“What are you doing?” she asks, spinning around to face me.
“I’ll help.”
“With what?” she snaps. “I don’t need help in the bathroom.”
“Are you sure? I’m more than happy to take care of all of your intimate needs. Does your vagina feel okay? My penis is above average size, but as far as my research has suggested, not large enough to hurt or cause any lasting injury.”
“Jesus, Knight. It’s a pussy and a cock. This is weird enough without you making everything weirder.”
“You’d like me to call your vagina a pussy and my penis a cock?” I clarify.
“A pussy, a cunt, or any other name, as long as you don’t make any reference to clams or any comparison to meat. The only time you call it a vagina is during a medical exam.”
“Duly noted,” I agree. “Then I’d like to check that your cunt is okay after I fucked you.”
Her lips part on a silent moan, and her thighs squeeze together, but despite all my focus being on her face, I don’t miss the barely audible sound of something dripping from between her thighs to the dark wood floor beneath her.
Dropping my gaze to the floor, I quickly look back up to her face, watching heat bloom hotly in her cheeks.
“Spread your legs,” I say.
She shakes her head.
“Do it now, Doll.”
