The Question

Is it you?

The one with your legs wrapped tightly around his hips, panting open-mouthed as his cock touches lightly on your open and swollen cunt lips?

Is it you?

The one with your back arching as he presses the full length of his hard thickness deep into your belly?

Is it you?

The one with eyes squeezed tight, as his fingers close upon your tits, drawing tears of pain from you as he uses them to pull himself ever deeper into your wet and throbbing pussy?

Is it you?

The one biting her bottom lip as he catches your nipples between his grasping fingers, making you ache with the pleasurable pain?

Is it you?

You? Crying out in ecstasy as your body writhes and contracts under him, jetting your sex juice around his plunging cock, lubricating your passage, filling the room with the liquid sounds of lust?

Is it you?

The one moaning in abandon as he continues to pound into your sensitive flesh, driving himself closer to his own eruption?

Is it you?

The one who cums again even as he does, pussy honey and cock liqueur mixed with each final pumping surge, his fingers rigidly grasping your tits, your nipples thrusting swollen through the gaps between his digits as your legs twine tighter, refusing to let go, even as your cunt releases.

Is it you?

Laying sated in the darkness, entwined?

 

This is the short story I woke up with in my head on Friday morning after several O-less days, after I’d sent my Master a text worrying that I was losing my sexual desire. “Don’t worry, you’re fine,” He responded, “just a little bubble in the slut pipes.” Guess He was right. Again. 🙂  ~nilla~