A wave surges through me, cresting with shocking force.
A thin, desperate cry leaves me.
I turn in Branson’s direction. He’s close to me, I know that, I can see that, but I still feel panicked that he isn’t touching me. He seems to sense that about me because he reaches out immediately, placing a hand on my shoulder and squeezing hard.
Panic fizzles and dies. Desire rears up and consumes me.
He lifts me. My feet dangle in the air for a moment and then he sets me down on the counter. I let him. I don’t make any suggestions or have any preference on how he takes me. All I care about is that he fucks me.
I lie back, legs parting wide without any encouragement as he takes my hips in his hands and moves me closer until half my ass is hanging off the counter and my hole is on offer.
He penetrates me smoothly, a single thrust that takes me from painfully empty to completely, perfectly full. Murmurs and the pain upon entry are a distant memory now. Now, there’s only pleasure. Only raw, exposed nerveschanting in gratification. Only his body and mine. His body in mine.
My first orgasm is almost instant, and he fucks me through it without slowing down or giving me time to recover. Each thrust forces me open a little wider, fills me a little deeper, cranks me to the highest heights and keeps me there.
When I open my eyes, ceiling beams blur above me, and Branson’s alpha groans bounce off the walls. My skin tingles, electrified and sensitized.
My thoughts wander as desire creeps down my body. Down my chest, past my navel, and pools in my dick. It aches, physically aches from arousal, heat, and neglect. A hot rod that’s screaming for familiar sensation. The feeling Branson is injecting up my ass is amazing. It’s everything.
And yet, I want more.
I take my dick in my hand. My touch is gentle and tentative, terrified. I tense in anticipation as I do it, and thank fuck I was careful. It’s too much. It’s still way, way too much.
I howl and shake in frustration.
“Aw, baby,” Branson says, his soothing voice washing over me and rubbing all hint of discomfort away. “You can’t handle that yet. You’re not ready.”
“More,” I whine in disappointment, hooking my hands on the edge of the counter and bracing myself as I open my legs a little wider. My thighs burn with the effort, but it buys me a little more dick in my ass.
Branson’s head bobs in my field of vision, rocking back and forth as he drills his dick into me. “D’you want me to try something? It might make you feel better.”
I nod emphatically. I don’t know what Branson’s suggesting, but I know that if he’s the one offering, I want it. If it’s something that pertains to my dick, then Idefinitelywant it.
He keeps fucking me at a no-nonsense pace, and he doesn’t slow as he reaches down. He circles my balls and the base of my shaft between his forefinger and thumb and holds my junk tightly. It’s an explosion of sensation. A triumph. A marriage made in heaven. My ass, cock, and balls all thrum in pleasure.
I come fast and noisily. A messy orgasm that splashes all over my chest and resets my brain. Then, before I’ve recovered, I come again. New pleasure crashes on top of old pleasure. New waves on old waves.
Wave upon wave.
Again and again.
I come so much that I don’t move a muscle when he pulls out of me. I can’t. I can’t open my eyes or close my mouth. I can’t lift my head.
When my feet touch timber, there’s a soft splash as the massive load he dumped in me overflows and spills onto the floor.
I’m barely aware of him cleaning me up and carrying me to bed, but he must because, when the heat burns again, I open my eyes and find myself back in my nest with Branson’s big body curled around me.
It’s late afternoon, and he’s inside me. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting long rays that flit over Branson’s back as we buck together.
It’s nighttime, and he’s inside me. Owls hoot. Insects screech. The sounds of the woods are different when the moon is high. The sounds we make at night are the same as the ones we made during the day. Branson’s hands roam my body and his dick pistons in and out of me. Slick, tacky slaps ring out in time with my heart as our bodies collide.
I come over and over, my mind bending a little more each time it happens.
I drift. Restless and hot. Asleep. Awake. Sated, then burning to ash. Empty, then full. Aching, then shattering harder than I ever imagined possible.
Over.
And over.
