I sit up, grabbing her hips and flipping her over before settling my weight back on top of her, jutting my pelvis so it drives her deeper into the mattress. Her tentative strokes might have been a million miles from anything that could bring me to completion, but it made me hard as granite.
While she tries to wriggle her arms free, I reach down and spread her from the rear, dipping my middle finger in, then curling it out, spreading her juices all the way along to the clenched bud of her hole.
“I’m going in raw, so you get to decide. If you’re that worried about protection, do you want me in your pretty little arsehole, or should I go back to plan A and take your tight wee cunt?”
She jerks, trying to scrabble away, but it’s such a mismatched attempt I laugh. Her efforts grow stronger, bucking wildly under me, each action making me grow harder, wearing down my thinning restraint.
“Please… don’t…”
As I sit back on my heels, I grab her by the throat and tug her backwards, standing up on my knees as she rises and pulling her hard against me. Her hands fly up to tug at my hand, encircling her tiny neck. So tiny, I could probably snap it with little effort. I position my fingers an inch apart along her windpipe and squeeze. Not even hard, just to let her know how much worse things could get.
“I gave you your choices. Pick one or I’ll pick for you.”
While my left hand holds her neck, I fistmyself with my right hand, guiding it between her thighs, my head nudging into her entrance, feeling how ready she is for me, no matter what her current protestations are.
“Is that what you want?” I press my forehead against her cheek, speaking directly into her ear, voice barely above a growl. Then I let go of myself and stroke her again, teasing my finger around her tight hole. “Or is this—?”
She bucks against me in such terror that she’s almost strong enough to break my hold. Whatever experience she has with anal, her current distress suggests it wasn’t good and that’s fine by me. I’m a tab A into slot B type of guy, not yet so bored with basic fucking that I need to experiment. I wrestle her back down until her head is flush against the pillow, cupping her cheek and pushing back her hair for a better view.
The panic. The fear. The sweat gathering at her hairline and dotting her upper lip. I love it.
My thumb strokes the same path as my finger, taking its own sweet time, while my eyes devour every change to her expression.
When her pupils have blown out so far I can barely see the irises, I relent. My hand gives one last stroke of her hair, then moves to grab her hip, holding her steady as I line myself up with her entrance. “You’re so cute. Why would I stick it inside your filthy little arsehole when I can fuck your tight, sweet cunt instead?”
She’s forgotten all about condoms, forgotten about safety, forgotten everything in the moments of blind panic. Forgotten it so when I pump my hips and bury the head of my cock inside her, she moans with pleasure instead of tightening with trepidation.
I leave myself there, her muscles gripping me, trying to pull me deeper. Her pelvis tips, making it easier for me to drive insideher and I do, going from zero to a hundred in one thrust, then pausing again, reading every change on her face, my cock feeling every vibration in her body.
I slowly withdraw, relishing the drag as her walls try to hold me in place and utterly fail. She’s so wet, there’s a soft slurping noise as I ease back. Her mouth is open, sucking in breath and as I pump my full length inside her again, I lean forward, thrusting three of my fingers into her mouth at the same time.
She opens around them, sucking, struggling a little when I get so deep that she’s close to gagging. Like a trooper, she fights past the urge.
I let go of her hip with my other hand and stroke her cheek, trace the path where her watering eyes release their tears. I press the heel of my hand onto the back of her head, holding her steady with the pressure against the pillow, against the mattress. Hold her steady as I thrust my fingers inside, pull them back, thrust them forward again, the soft cave of her mouth and the wet muscle of her tongue so similar to her tight cunt wrapping around my cock that the surge of desire almost makes me come even though I’ve barely started.
As I pull my hand back, she sucks each finger clean, her tongue almost as rough as a kitten’s. Her mouth pulls again at nothing as I wipe my hand against the sheets and return it to grip her hip, to hold her steady as I pound into her.
I go slow at first, relishing the friction, the wet heat that announces how much she wants me inside her despite her protests. When my full length is buried within her, I pause, relishing the sensation. The one thing that Kari can’t give me, even if she wants to.
It feels so good. Like everything about this girl, it’s better than expected. Like God smiled on me and decided I needed atreat for every piece of shit I’ve grimly fought my way through these past years.
I slam into her, picking up speed, thrusting so hard and fast that I’m surprised she doesn’t break apart under the force. Even when I grab a handful of her hair, using it to pull her head back until I can grasp her throat and squeeze, she gives a groan that sounds like appreciation, not discomfort. It sounds like she’s begging for more.
Even if more isn’t what she asks for, more is what she gets.
Her muscles work on me, squeezing and releasing like milking my cock is a fad new exercise on all the morning tv shows. Her backside is smooth, the flesh surprisingly plump, begging for a smack.
I slap her right cheek, barely using any force, turning the pale skin just the slightest shade of red. The left cheek gets one degree harder, the stain lasting longer until I smooth it away with my palm.
Her throat vibrates under my hand, soft sounds emerging, fuelling me to slow down, work my way deeper inside her, take my time, rewarding her until she purrs, the same way she feels like a reward to me.
To choke her when she’s being so lovely about taking my cock seems cruel.
I loosen my grip, leaving my fingers where they are so I can still feel the sounds she’s making, more vibration than volume, but they no longer dig into her flesh, they no longer drag against her windpipe, threatening her air.
She gasps in a breath, and another, then her arm reaches behind her, searching for something. I slap her arsecheek again in case she’s forgotten who’s in charge. The movement pauses, then resumes until I understand she’s reaching for my hand, and I let her take it.
For the second time, she confuses me. Does something unexpected.
