It stings. It does. But there’s something underneath the sting that makes me push back against him in answer, that makes my whole body say yes, more, keep going. I make a sound of agreement and press back into him.
He moves one hand around to my front and finds my clit, rubbing there in slow, slippery strokes while he pushes deeper,keeping me open and ready for him until he bottoms out completely, and I feel him everywhere. He’s impossibly deep, touching places I didn’t know existed.
He takes me by the hips.
Then he moves, and I am not prepared. I knew it would be a lot. I did not know it would be this. He finds a rhythm and commits to it, deep and driving and relentless, and my breasts sway with each thrust, jerking forward and back, and the sounds our bodies make in the close green air under the trees are loud and wet, and I cannot think about anything except the feel of him and the fact that I need to stay quiet.
My eyes go wider than wide.
I am gasping. I am being stretched in ways I did not know were available to me, and every thrust pushes right up against the edge of too much without ever going over it, and I love it. I love it so much it’s frightening. I’m gripping the moss like it will save me. If he wasn’t anchoring me in place with his other hand, I would be face-first in the dirt.
He leans down over my back, his front pressing against me, and he gets his fingers back on my clit and works it fast and direct, and there is nothing subtle about any of this. A few thrusts later I am tipping over the edge again. The noise that wants out of me is high and unhinged, and I can’t stop it. He clamps his hand over my mouth, pressing it there, holding me silent as my back bows and my eyes roll back as the second orgasm tears through me harder than the first. These long, rolling shudders that go on and on while he keeps strumming on my clit and driving into me, taking me higher instead of letting me come down.
I can smell myself on his fingers. It’s crazy, but even that turns me on.
His chest is sliding against my back with every thrust. His breath is against my hair.
Eventually the shudders stop being full-body and become something smaller. My grip on the dirt loosens a fraction.
He keeps going.
Then he’s jerking into me differently. He drives deep, in shaking thrusts, his rhythm breaking apart, and I feel heat as he comes, a rush of it deep inside me. He grunts with each thrust, these short, bitten-off sounds he’s fighting to keep down. He doesn’t stop straight away. He stays deep and works through it, grunting softly, keeping me there at the edge of something until the last of it moves through him, and he finally slows. I am shuddering from the aftermath of my orgasm.
Magma pulls out and tips me gently onto my back, taking my thighs.
I stare up at him. “Again?”
He nods. I look down at him and am shocked to see that he is still fully erect.
Magma is on his haunches, still thick and flushed. He lifts my legs and pushes into me again. Then he holds my legs up and together, straight in the air against his chest. The difference is immediate. With my legs closed, the friction is ramped up to something that makes my eyes cross. Those loud and wet, rhythmic sounds are back in the hush of the jungle, and my breasts jerk back and forth with each drive of his hips.
I look up at him.
His jaw is set. His brow is pulled in deep, and there’s something fierce and entirely focused on his expression, like I’m the only thing in his field of vision. His eyes are dark now with lust and urgency. He looks like he’s angry.
“You feel so good.” It comes out low and bitten off. “So fucking good, Carla.”
Another orgasm is building. I can feel it gathering, right there, and I can hardly believe it.
He slows down. His thrusts get deeper instead, more deliberate, hitting differently now, and I grit my teeth against the sounds that want out. He opens me up so that he can rub the pad of his thumb over my clit a good couple of times.
My mouth drops open.
Just as I’m about to come, he stops and closes my legs again, even tighter against his chest.
There is barely room for him now. The pressure is enormous, that teetering edge of too tight and not enough, and I press my hand hard against my mouth as he keeps punching into me in short, deep strokes. My back comes off the ground. My eyes roll. The third orgasm takes me so hard that my whole body shakes with it. It’s bigger than the last two, bigger than anything I’ve had before, and I am working with everything I have to keep from screaming into the jungle. My free hand claws into the earth and I hold on while my body shakes itself apart.
Then he’s crunching a little over his middle. His abs pop. All his muscles bulge. He makes this soft but deep sound from right inside him as he starts to jerk. Once again, warmth floods me.
Each thrust takes me a little higher.
He grits his teeth, his hands closing a little tighter.
He keeps going until the shaking turns to tiny shudders. He slows, drawing everything out of me.
When he finally pulls out, he’s still thick. Not quite as hard as he was at the beginning but close. I look at him in shock because I am sure he could go again.
I, on the other hand, am not sure I have legs anymore.
