He leaned forward just enough to make his hard cock push all the right buttons inside of me. He grunted, and I panted as his thrusts became stronger.
I clawed his chest with my nails and drew a tiny bit of blood from a cut at the top of his chest.
He had average length, but he still seemed to penetrate deep inside me and the smacking sound of his legs on my ass had me nearing another orgasm. What he lacked in length, he made up for with girth.
“Yes, Darlin’. I love looking at your body while I pound you. Your tits are perfect.”
I cried out and dug my nails in to his chest as the third orgasm of the afternoon raced through my body. I always felt them before they actually arrived. It was like animals sensing earthquakes before they happen. I felt a tingling in the back of my neck first, which then traveled down to where my legs met at the top of my thighs. From there, a pulsing radiated from my core and exploded into a thousand flaming butterflies flittering about in my body. This orgasm caused my eyes to roll back.
Stu didn’t stop, though. We had done this enough, and I had taught him well enough to know that this was the point where I desired he continue to fuck me. Hard.
I just drifted along on the wave of intense pleasure as he pounded into me. I counted on him being able to fuck me for a good thirty minutes, if not an hour.
It’s like his dick was desensitized and he didn’t feel pleasure as intensely as I did. If a normal man’s penis had four thousand nerve endings in it, his must have only had a thousand. He could last a long time and he had a habit of being rough.
I liked that. I could also sense he wanted to come. He had an insanely intent focus.
“Flip me over,” I commanded.
He obeyed, and soon I crouched on my hands and knees. He slapped my ass before sliding back into me again. Another slap on the other cheek caused me to jump. I didn’t cry out, though.
“Fuck me hard, Dobbs. I want you to come inside of me.”
He grabbed both of my hips and plunged his cock inside of me. His hips moved fast, and he drove his rod inside of me over and over. Harder and faster.
I could see our images in a mirror on the wall.
He thrust his hips forward as he pulled back on my hips and he did it like a machine. A Marine machine.
My breasts hung beneath me, swaying more in this position, even with the implants. Sweat glistened on his chest and the space between my breasts was laced with perspiration. He looked like some scar-faced Roman gladiator and I looked like a Senator’s daughter being given to him as a gift for a victory. I am a gift to him.
I took in the sight of us and the pleasure rippling through my body even as schemes and plans popped into my head. I endured the hard sex as he pushed to reach the goal.
“Harder. Faster,” I spurred him on. He couldn’t really go any faster I thought.
Somehow he did. We were both panting from the exertion and the pleasure that was coursing through our bodies.
“Come, Baby,” I pleaded.
“You ready, Darling?”
“Yeah, Baby. Come for me. Fill me up. Fuck me harder.”
“I’m coming,” he exclaimed three hard thrusts later.
I could feel his cum shooting into me. The guy also had balls the size of over-sized golf balls. He could fill a large pee cup with sperm on his best days. The feeling of his pleasure inside of me, splashing on the interior walls of my vagina, pushed me to another orgasm.
“Yes, Baby. I’m… coming… too.”
We both cried out and gasped and made those ugly faces that everyone makes during orgasms.
For Stu, fucking was like an Olympic event. He always threw his all into it. I had to give him that. He collapsed on the bed and pulled air into his lungs in deep gasps.
I crawled into his arms and laid my head on his chest. A bit of blood pooled on his chest where my nail had scratched him. I played with it casually, smearing it in a circle.
For me, sex was a power play. Men had used sex to subjugate women for eons. Now, in the days of the #metoo movement, I used sex as a weapon to get what I wanted. Stu had something I wanted. Something I needed. So I fucked him to get it. I fucked him to keep him complacent and willing to do what I needed from him to achieve my ultimate goal.
I intended to divorce Dirk Baxter and get a fifty million dollars out of it. That sum was a drop in the bucket for Dirk. I was sure of it. I could get more, but that involved something a little more drastic than what I had planned.
