Page 35

Story: The Dire Reaction

“Oh, god!” she squeals when another snap of my hand follows the first. She arches so high, only her head remains on the pillows, the proof of the intensity of her orgasm spraying across my belly. I can’t hold back, seized within her, the pulsing of her body rips another climax from me.
“That’s it,” I barely rasp out. “Come for me.” She shudders as I nibble my request across her ear. Sealing the demand, I angle her hips, driving myself deeper into her quivering center.
The ability to come with her, to roll through the waves of release in time with her, is the most magnificent gift I could ever imagine getting. No longer a bystander, no more holding back. Being able to dive headlong into the passion she surrounds me with, unrestrained, is the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced. I’ve flooded her, filled her, the rolling beads that trickle down her ass careening an alluring scent that drives me rabid.
I’ve never felt more naked than the moment I slide myself out of her. Withdrawing from her heat is a douse of cold water. My cock is still rigid, its leaking head begging to seat itself deep within her again.
Finally freeing her hands, I raise myself above her, rolling her hips to press her thighs against her chest.
She’s soaked. Palming her damp folds, I slide a wet finger past the tight ringed muscle of her ass. I can hear her gasp, her body tightens when I push into her. Her fingers dig into my arm, but she doesn’t push me away while I work my finger slowly in and out of her.
“That’s my good girl, just relax. I want every inch of you, and I promise, you’ll enjoy it.” The muscles give slowly when I hear her take a steadying breath. When I slide in the second finger and keep up the slow rhythmic movement, the heat on my arm disappears when her hand slides down to fist the blanket.
A long low moan builds in her chest as I churn my hand and stretch her little virgin asshole.
“Oh, god. Oh, my god. Oh, my,” she chants to herself. Her moans grow deeper and her hips start to rock to meet the thrusts of my hand.
“That’s it. You’re such a good girl.” My lips find her tender clit to press light kisses against her. She smells like the sweetest of nectar; the combination of us is a heady chemical. She gives small squirts against my chin as her first orgasm starts. And when I push the third finger in, stretching her wider, her hips jerk and she screams, her body clenching around me. Her head throws back, her blond hair knotted on my pillows, sweat beads at her temples, her body shivering against me.
I know she’s ready.
Rolling her onto her side, I spoon myself against her back. Pulling her leg over my hips, my throbbing cock eagerly seeks her softened ass. Slickened with her lustrous juices, I use short tiny movements to gently push the head past her tight ring.
Her hand finds my hip, pressing me, holding me from moving forward. I keep up the slight movements, not pressing, but letting her adjust to my girth. I’m not a small man, so I give her time…even if the pressure in my belly is screaming to drive into her.
“Tell me his name,” I whisper in her ear. Her hand eases, and I gain another inch. Wrapping my arms around her, pulling her tightly against my chest, I can feel her trembling with every movement. Slightly longer strokes, my thighs are quivering to hold myself back. She feels like fucking heaven on earth, and I’ve only got the tip in. I can feel myself leaking within her, adding to her heat, slickening her further.
“Sam…” she trails off into another low moan. Her fingers are now pulling me instead of slowing me. I push farther in, gaining with each slow thrust of my hips. Her hard heel digs into the back of my thigh, spurring me deeper, but I fight the urge. I know she still needs time.
Slowly I piston into her, deeper and deeper. Getting closer to filling her, to sinking all the way to my aching nuts. Each stroke gains in speed now. My reserve is breaking down. I can feel a momentous tightening in every limb. My hands rove her supple curves, landing on one of her tight nipples with a small pinch.
“Tell me,” I pant. “Tell me who’s your first.” I can barely rumble out the last of my words. My cock flares within her tightening walls. She looses a long cry as she digs her nails into my thigh, pulling me to go faster, drive deeper. My hand follows her shuddering belly to find her wet clit, my thumb pressing against it as I push two fingers deep into her clenching pussy. “Tell me who makes you come harder than you’ve ever come before.” I slam against her, my thighs slapping against her ass, my cock buried to my belly.
“Sam! You! Oh, my god! Oh, my—” she screams. Her entire body goes rigid. She clamps my fingers within her, and she has a vice grip around my swollen cock that causes the coil within me to shatter. Another sound fills the room. My own voice echoes back to my ears. My body locks up, every muscle splintering into pieces and pouring into her. Stars pop behind my eyes and I force them closed. I’m drowning in the waves that crash over me.
She has utterly destroyed me.
Chapter twenty
ALEXANDER
Whatafortuitousturnof events. My warehouse still stands, bound with my locks, untouched for what I now know is years. It took patience I nearly lost to manipulate them to open, but I’m not ready to rend the doors apart quite yet. The silence of the insulated walls is a comfort to my overwhelmed ears. Ironic that I had this built so long ago to harbor the screams of my trophies, but now I embrace the isolation it provides from the outside world.
Nearly all of the lights seem to be functional, only a few bulbs fail to luminate.
I’m not entirely confident in my new hands enough to warrant the hassle of the delicate glass. My eyes see much better than they did previously in the dim lighting of the tunnels below the warehouse, so I decide new bulbs are unnecessary.
A dank musk fills the air as I draw nearer to the end rooms. My memories preceding my long sleep are foggy at best, but I vaguely recall using these rooms last.
The smell intensifies, the air heavy with mold and fungus. An acrid bite of mouse urine entrenches itself in my sensitive nostrils, burning my eyes in its density.
Pushing the heavy door open, the weak flicker of the aged bulb illuminates the small space. A single twin bed rests against the wall, the fetid smell radiating from the lumps upon its mattress. Dark stains envelop the blanket that hides the shapes.
The flash of a memory skirts my thoughts. A face. Blond hair knotted around my fingers, her features contorted in the beauty of pain.
Her name eludes me. Perhaps a glimpse will stir it loose from the cobwebs that plague my mind.
Flaxen hair protrudes from beneath the rough cloth as I pull it down, affixed to a darkly stained skull. The sockets are focused on the cinderblock wall behind the bed, but it doesn’t take much to wrest it from the vertebrae of the neck.