And then it rushed all over, and I was reduced to a mess of whimpering and moaning, my body shaking uncontrollably. Lane had a firm grip on me and would not let me go, which somehow made it even more arousing—the fact I couldn’t escape the orgasm made it just so much better. My other hand went to his thigh and tried to steady myself for dear life, but nothing was going to control me during this orgasm.
Only when I begged Lane to stop did he remove his tongue. I scooted forward, whimpering and murmuring about how good it felt. This much I could think—if every orgasm he gave me felt like this, there was zero chance I was ever remaining impartial to him at my job.
“Jesus, Lane,” I mumbled.
He scooted out from underneath me as I remained on all fours near the edge of the bed. For a few seconds, I just heard some shuffling behind me, but I couldn’t focus on it. I needed to catch my breath.
Then, out of nowhere, I felt the thick mass that was his cock sliding up on and down my ass, not yet inside of me but teasing me. I felt like the best kind of prisoner at this point—too tired to move, too weak to resist, and too excited to do anything but yearn for him.
“Lane... ”
“Fuck,” he said, his voice scratchy from the late-night wake-up call.
I felt reasonably confident that he’d forgive me for this. I wasn’t too worried about how he’d feel for having woken up for sex. Any man who chose sleep over sex was probably a man I wasn’t too keen on being in bed with.
I felt one hand smack my ass, producing a loud thwack that echoed through the room, making me yip and shake in pleasure. He did it again, and I again moaned in pleasure. His left hand grabbed my left hip. He put the tip of his cock right at the entrance of my pussy, put his right hand on my right hip, and then pushed in.
I was somewhat right. He was so huge that it took him a few seconds to get as deep as possible. But I was gladly wrong about it being painful. It wasn’t in the slightest—instead, his girth ensured that he filled the entirety of me, hitting every spot and giving me the start of an orgasmic build up with only a couple of thrusts.
“Oh, fuck, Lane!”
It wasn’t actually an orgasm, but that he was so easily able to get me that far that quick said it all. His grip on my hips was unbreakable, his thrusts without disruption in their rhythm, and his force perfectly straddling the line between utmost pleasure and unbearable.Yeah, waking him up for this was smart.
I tried to turn around at one point and look at him, but it was just dark enough that I couldn’t make out all of him. Still, from what I could see in the hazy silhouette, he looked like a beast in the best sense of the word. His massive upper torso, the curves of his traps and his shoulders, the shape of his pecs, and the abs flaring out... just the sight alone was enough to make me aroused, pushing me closer and closer.
Of course, given that he was also thrusting inside of me, there was no chance for me to fight off the orgasm. I almost didn’t want to come so quickly. The whole time from when he inserted himself into me to me finishing couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds at most.
I had to beg for him to slow down, the intensity was so much. But Lane, seemingly having transformed into a man who had to do things his way, picked up the pace once more. My fingers dug into the side of the bed, my eyes rolled to the back of my head, and my legs and ass felt like jelly.
When he finished with this position, he pulled out, shuffled to the side, and pushed me onto my back. I barely had a chance to breathe before he was on top of me, once more inside of me. Now, I could feel all of his muscles on my breasts and stomach.
It was so fucking hot. So fucking amazing.
The intensity of this sex was unlike anything I had ever experienced, and I think a large part of it had to do with what almost felt like the taboo nature of it all. The fact that we were so tired we couldn’t say more than three words at a time also helped. Either way, whatever thoughts I had in thinking about this sex were quickly displaced by the fact that I kept orgasming over and over again.
Eventually, Lane’s grunts reached a higher pitch. I felt his cock swell inside of me as I approached my third orgasm. With a loud, guttural roar, he finished inside of me, twitching and shaking as he swore in pleasure. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close as I begged for more of him.
When he finally finished, he rolled off to the side. I came and rested myself on him, listening to his slowing heartbeat.
On a normal night, perhaps I would have hoped for something romantic to be said. But at this moment, the perfect response was no words. We had just had a moment started by the most non-verbal of communication.
The best thing was to keep on doing just that. And so it was that within just a few minutes, I had fallen asleep on his chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat saying what I wanted to hear.
* * *
I woke up alone.
In a panic, I wondered if I had fucked up the night before by crawling into bed with him. I couldn’t blame the alcohol—I knew exactly what I was doing, and there was no amount of lying or hiding from the fact that I had slept with him. I certainly hadn’t had any regrets at the moment, but waking up to an empty bed made me wonder if I had pushed things too far.
Lane, after all, had resisted the initial opportunity for us to have sex. It wasn’t me who had said no. It was him. And yet, I had pushed his boundaries by coming in at two a.m., probably while he was having a dream about Shannon, and all but forced him to fuck me.
Oh, shit. Shannon... I’m sorry. He’s just... I can see why you like him. He’s a great catch. An amazing catch. And a great fucking lay.
But... did I do you wrong? Did I hurt you by doing this? Did I hurt Lane by doing this?
I’m so sorry. I’m sorry...
My thoughts trailed off as I heard the opening of the front door. I was pretty confident that Lane hadn’t just given his key at random to complete strangers, so I felt reasonably sure it was him, but I preferred to stay in bed. Maybe when he came in, he’d come back for round two.
