He speeds up, moving faster, pounding harder, and continues to grind my clit. The effect is devastating: I approach the edge at breakneck speed. I want to go over that edge again and again and again.
I squirm beneath him, mere moments from climaxing, but somehow Massimo can tell, because he stops suddenly. Maybe I gave myself away by biting my lower lip. Or squirming.
I look up at him expectantly.
“Massimo?” I pant.
“You know what I want to hear,” he rasps.
“Please Massimo, please let me cum,” I tell him breathily.
He doesn’t move.
I feel the need growing inside of me with each moment. I need release. I need it now.
“I didn’t quite like your tone with me earlier,” he says. His voice is thick with lust. He’s struggling just as much as I am.
I actually have no idea what he’s talking about. I can’t see through the thick haze of pleasure.
“Please, just fuck me,” I tell him. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
He grins wolfishly. “I know you will.”
Still he doesn’t move.
I open my mouth, but words don’t come.
Finally he begins pounding again, but then stops once more.
“I don’t hear you begging,” he says. “I want to hear a please after every thrust.”
“Please,” I say. “Please please please.”
He nods in satisfaction, and then hammers once more, though he’s moving agonizingly slowly. He’s trying to show me how much control he has.
Well, it’s up to me to show him how little he really has.
I continue to repeat “please” as he hammers me, like he asked. At the same time, I bear down hard with my cunt, squeezing his cock tightly. I didn’t even know I could do that. But it has the desired effect.
His eyes widen suddenly and he groans. Desire takes control, and he starts rapidly pounding me again. I try to grip him tightly, but he’s too strong. It doesn’t matter anymore, though—I’ve gone over the edge.
My pussy contracts, repeatedly squeezing his cock. The rest of my body doesn’t fare much better, and I’m a writhing and moaning mess beneath him.
His eyes roll back in his head and he drops forward slightly, losing control of his muscles as he unloads inside me. With each throb, I feel more warmth spreading inside me. I want him to keep cumming over and over. I want all his sweet juice.
He slides off me and switches to a spooning posture underneath me. “Sardining” might be a better term—the tub is cramped, so there’s not much room to spoon. Still, I like feeling him under me. It’s nice. Reassuring. A feeling that’s only amplified when he wraps his arms around my chest.
I turn to nuzzle his neck. Some of my hair fell free during our lovemaking, and it gets in my face. I barely notice. “Mmm. Massimo.” I sigh. “That was heaven.”
“You’re incredible,” he agrees. He brushes aside a lock of hair from my face.
His eyes are at peace. It’s a look that suits him, rather than the rage I often see there. It gives me the courage to taunt: “I thought you couldn’t have sex with me because you felt like you were using me?”
He arches an eyebrow. “That was when I was in control. But I lost control, obviously. No thanks to you.”
I giggle. “You liked that when I squeezed your cock, didn’t you?”
“Definitely got a whole lot tighter suddenly,” he agrees. “You’re amazing.”
