Wanting to feel more, I slip a finger into her pussy alongside my penis, feeling her body work to accept me.
Rolling her clitoris beneath the pad of my thumb, I push my finger in and out in rhythm with my penis until her soft whimpers become loud moans.
“Please, please, please,” she chants, grinding her hips back until I’m moving faster, thrusting deeper and harder.
When she comes, I feel it, her body tightening and tensing, making my penis swell until ejaculate bursts from the tip, filling her for the second time.
Slipping my finger out of her, I slowly withdraw my erection from inside of her, then roll to my back, quickly flipping her and positioning her on top of me, her pussy sitting on my abs.
“Oh my god,” she giggles, her breasts bouncing. “I need to clean up…again.”
“Not yet,” I say, my eyes dipping to where her legs are spread, her vagina wet against my skin. Taking a moment, I look at her beautiful body. Her skin is a canvas of paintings curling around her stomach, between her small breasts, and along her collarbones. Both of her arms are painted with images of people’s faces, stars, flowers, and other things that float effortlessly into each other like a seamless piece of art that I know I’ll stare at for hours and still see something new each time. Her breasts are small, but high, her nipples a deep pink color that contrasts sexily against the black and gray art decorating her skin. Her pussy, now pink and wet, has a thin band of dark curls coating the edge of her labia, and I want to bury my face into her and see how it smells.
Her face is classically beautiful, her skin pale and smooth with a pert nose and full pink lips. Her eyes look black, but I know they’re deep chocolate brown when her sadness feels profound and lighter after she orgasms.
Her pigtails are askew, one of the ribbons loose and hanging alongside her hair. The black eyeliner I watched her apply only hours ago is smudged, and the sex-rumpled doll straddling me is just as sexy as the fresh-faced, makeup-free version I lifted from the tub this morning, and the perfectly put together one I led onto the plane.
“Apparently cum does not stay up there very long, so unless you want me to make a complete mess of your sheets, I need to make a run for it,” she says, pulling me from my inner thoughts.
Wrapping my hands around her hips, I lift her off me, and she leans to the side like she plans to roll away. But instead of releasing her, I keep her positioned six inches above me, my eyes moving from her vagina to her face.
Her mouth drops open when understanding dawns on her.
“No,” she whispers, heat filling her cheeks.
“I want to watch the cum I just fucked into your cunt drip out. It was extremely arousing watching it drip to the floor, but I think this will be better.”
Shaking her head, she tries to pull free of my hold, but I’m twice her height and three times her weight and a hell of a lot stronger than her. There’s no way she could pull herself free unless I let her, and I won’t.
“Knight, no, it’s bad enough I had sex with you twice. This is…it’s weird.”
“What’s wrong with being weird?” I ask, genuinely curious. I’ve always been weird, or at least odd in comparison to everyone else. When I was a child, faced with my parents’ constant dissatisfaction with me, I considered trying to be like everyone else, but I quickly realized that I didn’t want to spend the restof my life pretending to be someone I’m not. I’d rather be weird and authentic than normal and fake.
Her lips snap shut, and she looks down at me like I’ve said something profound.
“I…I…There’s nothing wrong with being weird,” she finally says, her eyes becoming glassy again.
When the first few drips of my ejaculate and her arousal land on my stomach, I don’t bother trying to hide how much I like it. My fingers squeeze firmly around her hips, holding her positioned above me, but she’s not trying to move anymore. Instead, her chin is tucked into her chest as she, too, watches my cum drip out of her pussy and land on my abs.
“Oh,” she gasps, the single word laced with surprise. “That’s…”
“Extremely arousing,” I answer.
“Yeah,” she breathes.
Together, silently mesmerized, we watch as several more trails of my sperm slowly leak out of her, until it slows to a stop, leaving her labia glistening and wet.
“I should clean up,” she says quietly.
“I can help,” I suggest.
“I think I need…a…minute,” she says slowly, carefully considering her words.
I don’t want to allow her to be alone. I don’t want to give her a minute. All of her moments belong to me now, and I want to share every single one with her, but I also understand that others don’t always think the same way that I do. So I decide to concede. “Ok. Just this time.”
Reluctantly releasing her hips, I allow her to climb off me, then watch as she dashes to the bathroom, closing the door behind her and shutting me out. The wrongness of the distance and the door between us hits me, making an unexpected surge of emotion swell to life inside of me.
I don’t like not being able to see her. I don’t like the barrier she’s put between us. I don’t want there to be anything that stops me from getting to her, even if it is just a wooden door.
