His motions are slow and methodical, as I thrash and twist, he reacts with calm certainty. His hands trace up my side, past the round swell of breast, up the inside of my arm, pushing it firmly above my head, allowing him to hold my hand and use his bent arm to pin mine. Then he does the same to the other side, his one hand and arm holding both of mine firmly.
He is thrusting hard against the junction of my thighs. His cock sluicing inside of me like a piston in a well lubricated chamber. He gives me no ability to calm down, too recover, he takes his free hand and moves it between us. He torments my clitoris. He massages and rubs, he circles and he grinds, he uses his fingers and palm to make the sensory experience of his planking thrusting inside of me, another dimension.
My heavy breathing changes to panting, then gasps and cries. Finally he has what he was trying to achieve, when I start to whimper and thrash; desperately trying to avoid his touch on my hyper sensitive clit. My head is tossing; he moves his arm so my face is cradled against the hardness of his bicep. I cry out against it, before I turn my face into his neck. He is firm and gentle, he is completely unrelenting. It’s not until I start to shake and arch, not until I bite his shoulder before pressing the back of my head into the pillow and crying out in another orgasm, does he change his movements to soothe me.
Brief, tender respite as he kisses my temple and brushes my hair off my forehead. Then a slight shifting of his hips which makes me straighten my back and lift myself for him and then his arms are bracing my shoulders. He slowly beats out an ancient message against the door to my womb, his cock begging for release inside of me as he enjoys the rhythmic convulsing of my orgasm. He lets my quivering twat milk him even as his tempo shifts subtly and I feel the need for him to find his own release, which immediately brings me to another orgasm.
Growling, every muscle striated and tight, he cums again, pushing himself as high and as hard as he can inside and against me. Afterwards, as he relaxes into the softness of my body, his forehead pressed on mine, kissing me gently, his hands softly release mine and I feel him trace my skin, brushing tears away from my cheeks, as he shifts to lay beside me, pulling me against him so we are facing each other. He keeps our arms entwined and holding my hand, as every muscle in my body is washed with a wave of lethargy and sexual contentment.
I wish I had a fraction of the sexual control he has or could make him lose his. It’s impossible to do because the thing that brings him to the rush of sexual fulfillment is when I am weak and spent from mine. He doesn’t listen to my words, he listens to my body and he does not stop pleasing me until every nerve has been touched. Today, he was very different. As sexual as he is, there were no other positions other than those that brought us face to face. It’s like he needed to read me, claim me, to ensure he saw every ounce of pleasure he orchestrated pour from me and over him.
When he is demanding and gentle like this, it is my undoing. When he wants more than my body and sexual fulfillment, it makes me unsure if I can do this; have a sexual relationship alone. But…the glorious world that removes everything before it… this chemistry between us is beyond intense. What he does to me is everything my mind and body need and want. He knows before I do and so my reaction to it all is intense and immediate. He feeds off my response to him. It is a tightly coiled circle of arousal and it has left me exhausted and non functioning. His male pride intact from a successful breeding, he left me in a tangle of sheets, unable to walk on steady legs or do anything but lift my chin ,so he could kiss my lips in a final farewell.
He instinctively knows what I need more than any other man I have ever been with. He sees behind the veils of what I pretend to be and he makes me into who I am. Today, he was in control, he was above me and over me, he allowed me no respite from what he wanted to give me. He took and demanded I take it. He was firmly gently and completely unrepentant. And I was his willing tempest.