Is it just that he chooses to tune in and listen to all the signals and signs my body emits? Is there something else that feels better about Peter claiming me?
Using his firm hand, he parts my thighs and I try to fight off the guilt surging through me at allowing a criminal to claim me.This is a conflict of interest on so many levels that I don’t want to bother thinking about.
I still can’t admit that I want him…
“I can feel your heat begging for me, Aricia,” he murmurs, with that ticklish and musky breath again. My hips push back against him ever so slightly and Peter clearly interprets this as an invitation to press forward. I freeze in place as I feel a tightness and then slight spreading and pressure between my thighs.
Peter’s cock while conscious sends an initial surge of pain through me, even if I’m soaking wet and it should be easy for my body to adjust to Peter entering me. He spread me open with his dick before, didn’t he? Neither of us remember what happened consciously as anything more than a dream, but my body’s sudden craving for Peter might have been activated under those conditions.
“I want you so bad it hurts,” he whispers as his hips move forward. Peter is built like a man who lives part time at the gym. Every inch of his body stays chiseled with a sexy, lean stomach that pushes into me with each breath as he moves his hips forward slightly again.
His dick slides another inch inside me. He isn’t resisting his urges at all and I’m making it worse by not doing anything to stop him. Instead, I moan with pleasure. Why does my body want me to respond like I want to be here? Why do I feel so completely weak in Peter’s arms?
It’s so unfair. His hard, muscular form presses into me harder as more of his cock spreads me out. Why is it so big? The ache and pressure between my legs gets stronger as my body struggles to adjust to what must be only half of Peter’s shaft. The pain ripples through me and I have to bite down on my lower lip to keep from screaming. His dick is huge. Bigger than anything I’ve ever felt, not like I have much experience.
“Your pussy is tight, gorgeous,” Peter groans. “I can’t wait to cum inside it again…”
I bury my face into the pillow. I don’t know why. I could have told him “no”. Instead, I let him push the rest of his dick inside me and stifle my moans as pleasure erupts throughout my entire body. Having a big dick inside you just feels different. I can feel more of him and more of my tightness. Peter’s slightest movement sends explosions of euphoria through me.
He barely moves and I already begin to tremble as my body threatens to climax immediately and expose how badly I needed to just…get fucked by a big Italian man.
The words even crossing my mind like that in such explicit fervor represent just how badly Peter’s dick knocks the sense out of me. He turns me into an animal when he bottoms out between my legs and I moan as his pubic hair scrapes against my bare flesh and my inner walls just beneath my navel tighten and clench with arousal.
Holy shit. My pussy responds to its own convulsive throbbing by edging close to another orgasm because Peter’s dick is just so big that he barely has to move to affect me. How the hell am I going to survive him pounding me with that monster cock when a slow, slippery entry already makes me want to cum?
“If you’re not pregnant now, I’ll get you pregnant tonight,” Peter growls, nibbling my earlobe and sending me straight to a heavenly, blissful place where I feel too damn good to worry about the consequences of my actions. I just want to feel Peter’s dick.
And yes, I want to feel him pumping his cum inside me. Even if it’s dark, dangerous, and deliciously wrong.
Maybe this is just what I need. My body fits perfectly with this filthy man’s… There’s something about a big, muscular criminal who knows how to use his tongue and his cock that unlocks the primal part of me that doesn’t feel free to be sexual with a more judgmental man who only wants me for my ornamental value.
Peter doesn’t care if I get wild with him. He wants me wilder. He wants… Everything. His cock splits me open and I cry out as he buries himself inside me. When his thrusting begins, I experience a new combination of pain and pleasure unlike any prior romantic experience. I make every effort possible to brace myself against the hotel bed, but I can’t pull myself away from the primal satisfaction and animalistic euphoria I feel with Peter pounding into my pussy, hitting the deepest parts of my tightness as he moves.
The heat and friction between us mix with the warmth of Peter’s breath to push me oh so close to the edge. I can’t hold back with him and each time I try to retreat back into my self-consciousness, Peter strokes a new sweet spot that forces me to face the terrifying expansiveness of my capacity for pleasure.
How can I feel so much? How can I ever make love again if it doesn’t feel like this?
Peter fucks me harder and with only a few strokes, I feel the tightening in my core turning into a true climax. I try to beg for mercy, but I just make a low moaning sound that sounds like I’m begging for Peter to fuck me harder. It’s what my subconscious wants more than anything — this Italian giant with his monstrous cock pounding me into the bed until I forget all my troubles, work drama, and the shitty things that happened to me in the past.
I want to stop myself from coming to ride the wave of pleasure longer, but it doesn’t work. Peter slides into me with one deep thrust that hits in just the right way and pushes me over the edge. I can feel spit drooling in the corners of mymouth as I cum so hard that I almost lose both control and consciousness. My pussy convulses around Peter’s cock, milking him as I orgasm forcefully.
This draws him over the edge before my orgasm subsides. Peter pushes his hips forward as deeply as he can go and I feel a hot gush as he cums. I yelp as the heat tingles within my depths and his seed seeps in a warm puddle into my walls. Peter groans again and more cum spurts from his dick.
“I want to get you pregnant,” he growls, and I shudder from the sheer arousal of his statement, even if I am pretty sure that I’m not pregnant. Your chances of fertility change dramatically by the time you are thirty-five. By the time you are in your early forties, having a baby isn’t a guarantee.
It’s not impossible to have a baby at this age, but judging by my past experiences, I find it unlikely. If only I had my period anytime recently that I can remember. That could be entirely blamed on the stress surrounding Kennard’s sudden death and exposing his mistress, I suppose…
Peter slowly slides out of me and our bodies naturally move together so we face each other and kiss. It’s a slow descent from our orgasmic high rather than a brusque yanking away of his affections. I feel cared for in a way that I never did throughout my marriage. Frankly, I never had such romantic notions of marriage.
Maybe I should have been open-minded to a romantic experience at least half-way as euphoric as this one. My thighs wrap around Peter’s body and despite all the ways I fought him earlier, I don’t want him to pull away from me.
“I need to claim you,” he growls between kisses after we both feel our heart rates calm to a normal level. “I want to bruise your ass…”
He has to be joking…
Peter slides out of me and I shudder as I feel his hot cum seeping out of me and trickling down the length of my thighs. I stay wrapped around him, my eyes pleading with his for some connection, mostly so I can convince him not to follow through with his crazy ideas for claiming me. When Peter’s eyes meet mine, they gleam with mischievous desire.
I yelp as he flips me over onto my stomach again as if I’m a little girl and not a grown woman who has been in command of every detail in her life since her late teens. My body tenses at first, nervous at the sudden loss of control. Peter’s voice has a uniquely calming effect on me, even if it shouldn’t — because what he says is crazy as fuck.
