“And I will tell you,” I continue. “Rise up.”
She does, bringing herself up a few inches.
“I imagine kissing your breasts,” I say, focused less on my words than on staving off my spend. But I can’t stop myself from demonstrating, drawing one light pink nipple into my mouth and running my tongue over the smooth,silky skin there. I suck lightly, going only on instinct and what I know from my reading.
She moans again. And I canfeelthe place where we join grow wetter.
“You enjoy that?” I say, once more shocked that she reacts to me in such a manner. It seems natural that I react toherin such a way—but the reverse is still surprising.
“Don’t stop.”
I continue the action, giving each breast its proper due, sucking until the light pink becomes almost red. All the while, I feel her tightening over me, her pussy becoming tauter and tauter.
“Oh God,” she says above me as if she can’t keep her words in any longer. She begins to buck against me, but I still her. “Please.”
She sounds like she is begging.
I let her go, knowing somehow what she needs.
Immediately, she begins to buck against my cock, which has calmed only slightly.
Her pace quickens and she rides me harder and faster. I give no objection, but any prolonged speech is impossible now. I cannot stave off my spend. I am at her mercy once again. I only try and focus on lasting as long as I can.
As evidence of my complete surrender, I place my hands on her bare arse, flaring my fingers over the smooth, taut skin there.
“God, yes,” she says.
I begin to aid her in the motion, bringing her down roughly over my cock. The sensation assails my sanity. I have no idea who I am, who I was before entering this room with her.
“Alfred,” she says. “Please,harder.”
I obey, bringing her down again and again on my cock, stretching her and then stretching her again.
“Come for me,” I say, mimicking what she always says to me.
And she does. She comes apart. She clenches and unclenches, spasming hard over me.
And that is all I need.
I come too, driving into her with frenzied need.
My release is pure joy—and I look into her soft blue eyes as I take my pleasure. The seed comes from me in hot torrents, copious and surging, as if I am trying to fill her to the brink.
Now she looks, absurdly, like a kind of fierce angel instead of the devil she has presented herself to be.
All my life I have denied myself this pleasure. And now she has forced me to take it.
I am so grateful to her. I feel bonded to her, as if after this moment nothing can rend us apart.
After the last shudders run through my body, she dismounts—and then makes a tutting sound.
“What is it?” I say, terrified that I have done something wrong.
“I told you,” she says.
In her hand, she holds the strange contraption she put over my cock. And even I, in my naivety, can see the truth: it has split open. My seed leaks between her fingers—and has doubtlessly done so inside of her.
“Annabelle, I am sorry.”
