The Paddler pt 4

part three here

When he finally slid his cock into her steaming cunt, he was certain he’d found heaven.

The walls of her pussy welcomed him,  the wet slickness of her juices allowing his thick meat to penetrate her fully, while contracting and squeezing him like a hot velvet fist.

They moaned in unison.

It was so good, so fucking good that he just lay there a moment, buried between her splayed thighs. He could feel the racing of her heart under his chest, the rapid rise and fall of her tits as she panted around the gag in her mouth.

He reached up and released the gag. He wanted to hear her scream as he fucked her.

He wanted the dark water surrounding their island to echo the calls of her lust, to carry the sound of her cries, those guttural cries of release, of want, of need to the pines that surrounded the secluded lake shore.

She was an animal in heat, wanton, crazed with the need to be fucked he’d so patiently stirred with in her.

His cock throbbed inside of her, she felt every molecule of him filling her.

She was so fucking, gloriously alive!

He withdrew from her hole, then slammed back. This was not a gentle dance of lovemaking, but wild, animal fucking. He pounded her, as she pushed up as much as she was able. Tied in a spread-eagle on the ground near her campsite, she was helpless to do anything but submit.

He filled her, a hard rush of flesh plowing into her furrow. It was gloriously raw, and every fiber of her being boiled with the upsurge of need.

She threw back her head and growled.

“Fuck meeeeee…..”

His grunting laughter rilled around them, as he continued his hard-thrusting strokes. Her cuntlips pulled apart, then grabbed at him with every exit and re-entry. Her clit was rubbed by his groin when he sunk fully into her, and her accompanying wail of

“OMYGAWD FUUUUCCCKKK”

beat in staccato counterpoint to the slapping of flesh against flesh. The sounds grew wetter, and more frantic.

They came in a mutual eruption, his mouth sinking into her tit, biting and pulling at her, before he threw back his head and roared, lion-like, as his seed gushed forth to fill her grasping hole.

Her ululating cry filled the night. Loons in the lake splashed away in a flurry of sound as she continued to cry her release.

Wave after wave of pleasure, from her core, from her clit rolled over her. Her body shook from the force of her orgasms.

When the explosion quieted, they both lay, collapsed together, bodies throbbing, and cooling in the darkness of the Northwoods night.  Crickets, which had stilled in the sudden explosion of sounds from the island, suddenly renewed their songs in an effort to find their own mates.

He sat up slowly, shaking his head. He felt like he’d been hit by a tsunami.

He released her, rubbing her wrists, before pulling her into another heated kiss.  He helped her rise, both unsteady, bracing each other as they made their halting way to her tent.

Twined together in their conjoined sleeping bags, they slept.

6 thoughts on “The Paddler pt 4

  1. I’ve been waiting for you to finally work “Ululating” into a blog. I just hope this is not your jump the Casbah moment, though. Mick

    1. i’ve not used it before? geeze. well, at last! and no, you’re not seein’ the back of me anytime soon (and yes, mick that *was* a double entendre!!)

      nilla

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