lustygeist

Inspired by this hot hubull short

You wait with the buzzing eagerness you always feel when the farmers lock you into the pillory. An electric pulse flares from your cunt with every beat of your heart, and with every pulse, a wave of electrical signals has your skin covered in goosebumps and sets all the small hairs on your body to standing.

You smell him as soon as the farmers open the gate to your stall. This bull's scent is all sweat and raging testosterone, you can practically smell his need. You can't look back to see him, but you imagine his swollen cock, flush with blood and throbbing, swaying through the air as he stalks up behind you. Then he's standing close, and you can feel the heat of arousal radiating off his body. You feel the soft head of his hard cock press against the lips between your legs, triggering a shiver of electricity that starts at your now-drooling sex and radiates out to your toes, your fingers, the top of your head.

His hands grip your hips, and he plunges into you. You moo—an unconscious, blissful sound—as his burning rod fills you near to bursting, the heat of his sex like a fire in the oven of your own.

Then he's fucking you: a series of deep, savage thrusts delivered greedily, his only goal to satisfy his consuming need to breed you. Every outward movement leaves you feeling empty and needy; every inward thrust makes you whole, fills you with exaltation. You need his seed as much as he needs to sow it. Your need speaks to his, becomes entangled with his, and as much fun as the fucking is—as good as it feels every time his girth fills you to the brim again—you're desperate for the end. All you want is what he wants: the flood of his ejaculate filling your hungry sex.

Your need for cum is so strong that it warps your sense of time. It feels like he's going to fuck you forever, like he's holding out on you, like he's never going to give you what you need. You even start to feel a little angry, your jaw clenching as you do what little you can—restrained as you are—to drive him over the edge. At last, he buries himself deep, and you moan a long, soft moo as he moans and pulses inside you. You can feel his balls twitch between your legs with every pulse. Your greedy cunt squeezes him to the rhythm of his orgasm, milking every drop of semen from the engorged penis held in its grip.

Then, in spite of your tremendous effort to keep his cock inside you, to keep that satisfied feeling of fullness, of completion—of being made whole—he slides out and steps back. Your ass and the backs of your legs feel a sudden chill without his warmth pressed against you. You moan with a mix of desire and frustration as you hear the farmers lead the bull out of your stall.

“Aw, don't worry your pretty little head none, Daisy,” one of the farmers calls to you with a chuckle. While you can't seem to form words of your own anymore, it hasn't been so long since you volunteered for the program that you've lost the ability to understand the farmers' speech. “The boys are all riled up and rearing to go. Got a long day ahead of you yet, dearie.” This last accompanied by another farmer's chuckle.

“She's an eager cow, our Daisy,” says this other farmer.

The first replies, but by then the gate to your stall swings shut, and you can't make out the rest of their conversation. What they're saying now doesn't matter to you anyway. The chemical cocktail they give you every morning and every evening has made it difficult for you to hold to any but the simplest thoughts, and what the farmer said has stuck in your mind, filling you with that electric buzz of arousal again:

More! More to cum!

True to his word, the farmer and his companion return after a few minutes that seem to stretch to eternity, and they have another bull with them. This one shoves his cock into your sloppy, swollen pussy as quickly and with as much desperate need as the first. He fucks you like he's sprinting to the finish, and soon another heavy load of cum floods your cunt. Some of the warm, thick stuff runs down your left leg when he slides out of you and steps back. You hear him led out of your stall, and all is quiet again—until the farmers return with the third bull.

By this time your entire body is wound as tight as a trap, and the moment the bull's rigid member kisses your labia is the trigger that springs your orgasm on you both. He slides into you, and he yelps in surprise as your sex immediately clamps down tightly on his. The stimulation is too much for him, and he's cumming before he even gets a chance to fuck you.

There are more—bulls and orgasms and loads of cum—many more, but you lose count after that third bull, after your first body-quaking orgasm. Your day is long, just as the farmer promised, and you're sore and exhausted by the time the farmer gives your ass an affectionate pat.

“You're a good girl, Daisy, that you are. Now the doc will be in to milk you and give you a checkup before we put you up for the night.”

At the mention of “the doc,” a man you think of as “Bestest Friend,” that needy ball of lust that lives deep in your core expands again, and your cunt throbs with anticipation. You love thee bulls for their urgent need, but it's always to the point with them. Bestest Friend is the only one who plays with you.

After a long day of breeding, that place between your legs pleasantly sore and dripping with cum, it's time to play.

If you had asked me, in my youth, what my favorite sex position was, I would have immediately responded with “doggy style.” Doggy style is great because it affords me full view of the fucking—watching my dick penetrate my partner, the sexy magic of a part of me disappearing inside of her—and I've always loved watching.

Doggy style will always be fun, always be hot, but after two decades of fucking—lots and lots of fucking—I don't need to watch to know exactly what's going on. I've seen it enough times that I can close my eyes right now, alone as I type this, and easily visualize what that all looks like. (Still and always fucking beautiful, don't get me wrong.) As I've grown older, and as I've come to realize that—for me—sex is inextricably tied to love, I've come to find that my favorite sex position is much less about the fucking and much more about the intimacy. The “total hug,” I like to call it:

Sitting on a chair or on the edge of the bed with her on my lap, facing me; my arms wrapped around her, hugging her close to me; her bare breasts pressed tight against my bare chest; her arms and legs wrapped around my back, hugging me close to her; my cock not penetrating her, but instead being engulfed by her, hugged entirely, embraced in her warmth.

Honestly, I can lose myself in a total hug. No rocking, grinding, pumping, thrusting—just sitting there, in stillness, in union, breathing together in unison, kissing or just resting my head against her neck, listening to the beat of her heart and focusing on feeling that same pulse softly beating against my sex. Sometimes it feels like I could spend hours like that.

A total hug makes me feel whole in a way that nothing else does.

A friend asked me to describe an ideal scene if I only had 15 minutes from the time I opened the door until a playmate had to leave.

---

I'm at the door.

The feeling of butterflies in my stomach reaches a new intensity when I see her message. My palms sweat and the tension I feel throughout my body has my legs trembling like I just did 100 squats. It doesn't matter that we've done this many times before—each time is like the first when she arrives.

I hurry out to the living room, where I stand before the front door. I take a deep breath and try my best to calm my nerves.

In.

And out.

My hand grasps the door's handle, and I push it down while pulling the door toward me.

There she is, standing in the doorway. A playful smile flashes across her face when she sees me, and then she steps past and into the house. She knows what I want. Without a word, she makes her way to my bedroom. I shut the front door and follow closely, shutting the bedroom door behind us. She puts her things down near the bed, then turns toward me and begins to strip off her clothes.

I'm entranced, but I somehow manage the presence of mind to pull off my own shirt and to undue my pants. I bite my lip as, now totally nude, she kneels before me. Without instruction, she reaches up to finish opening my pants. She pulls down, and my cock—already stiffening with a rush of lustful blood—springs out of my pants. She puts her hands on my waist and takes me into her mouth.

A quiet groan escapes my lips as her warm tongue plays over the sensitive tip of my dick. With long, slow motions she works my cock in and out of her mouth.

In.

And out.

“Fuck,” I whisper breathlessly. Already, I can feel the buildup of warmth and pressure at the base of my shaft that signals an impending orgasm.

Too soon.

I don't want to cum yet. If I do, I'll be useless for fucking for the next half hour or so.

“Fuck,” I breathe, this time a bit louder. As she pulls my cock out of her mouth once more, I reach down and cup the back of her neck with my right hand. With gentle pressure, I start pulling her up to her feet.

“That's enough,” I say quietly, through almost clenched teeth. “Lay back on the bed. I'm hungry for you.” And I mean it. I've been looking forward to running my tongue over and into her sex all morning.

She lays back just as I've told her to, and she spreads her legs in welcome. I kneel at the side of the bed and take a moment to admire her slick, swollen labia. I brush the tips of my right-hand fingers against her pussy, and I feel a surge of excitement as my hand picks up the slightest tremble of her body. She wants me.

I lean forward and kiss the inside of her left thigh. She moans and spreads her legs even wider. I kiss the inside of her right thigh, then I lick her lips, a quick dart of the tongue to start. She moans again, and that's all the encouragement I need. I put my mouth on her lips and I probe her clitoris with my tongue.

The next couple of minutes are a blur of licking, kissing, probing, and massaging. At some point, I slide a finger inside her while I caress her clit with my tongue.

“I'm going to cum, Master.”

Her voice is small and breathless, as though she stands in awe before the brutal power of a tsunami before the wave breaks against the shore. She moans and squirms under the increasing pressure of her climax, and then she cums with a wordless shout of pleasure. Her pussy contracts around my finger, pulling it in farther, and her legs squeeze around my head.

I ignore the slight discomfort and continue to press my tongue against her clit in rhythmic waves until, after a short time that seems to stretch into infinity, I feel her body uncoiling from her orgasm. I ease up on the intensity of my tongue and lips, now lightly brushing against the sensitive folds of her womanhood rather than greedily eating her out as I was during her orgasm. With a few last, longing kisses to the inside of her thighs, I pull my head back and slide my finger out of her.

Her labia are even more swollen now. Gorgeous. I'm tempted to just keep going. I consider making her cum again, but I know we don't have a lot of time and my lust wins out. I can't fight against the animal in me that wants nothing more than to be buried deep inside her, filling her with my cum.

I stand.

“On your hands and knees,” I instruct quietly. “Let me see you.”

She knows what I mean, what I want. Obediently, she flips onto her stomach and draws her knees in beneath her. She raises her ass into the air, bending gracefully at the waist to lay her head on the bed, her arms stretched out above her. I stare appreciatively at her wet, pink sex, set in the beautiful frame of her ass. With my left hand, I slide my fingers down, over, and inside her pussy; with my right, I finish pulling off my pants.

My cock throbs with need as I position myself between her legs. I pull my fingers out of her and grip her left buttocks with my left hand. My right hand guides my penis to the hot entry to her vagina. Slowly, so slowly, I ease my way inside her. Only when I'm deep inside, my pelvis pressed against her ass, do I remember to breathe.

“Fuck,” I whisper to myself again.

Taking her hips in my hands, I start to thrust in and out of her. All the way out, until I can see the mushroom tip of my cock, then all the way back in, until her ass presses against me in the most delightful way. In and out, so slowly.

In.

And out.

I feel the familiar pressure of an orgasm building again, but I'm still not ready. I bury myself inside her, but now I don't pull out. All thrusting has paused while I struggle to control the tide welling up within me. I reach up to her neck with my left hand, my palm pressed against her throat, and I pull her head up and back. Her body follows the silent command and she uses her arms to prop herself up, her back arched downward, toward the bed. My right arm snakes around her waist, and my fingers seek out the hard knob of her clitoris. With my cock enveloped in her warmth, I start to rub and massage her clit and her labia. Slowly, at first, then with increasing speed and pressure as her breath comes in shorter and shorter gasps, her muscles growing harder against my legs as her body prepares for another explosion of exctasy.

“Oh, Master,” she moans, her body trembling against mine. “I'm going to cum, Master. I'm going to—”

Another wordless shout interrupts her, and her pussy clamps down on the shaft of my penis. I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my teeth, fighting the orgasm that wants to tear through my body. My right hand isn't moving now—I can't spare the mental energy for that task—so I'm just pulling her up and toward me as she cums.

Finally, after a struggle that threatens to sap me of all my strength, tension once again flows out of her, and I can hear her taking deep, measured breaths. Slowly, in case I've misjudged my sensitivity, I pull out of her. When my tip is exposed once again and I've proven to myself I'm not going to cum right then and there, I ease back inside her.

In.

And out.

Now I start to pick up the pace. I know that, this time, there won't be any holding back. I can't. I don't want to. My grip on her waist tightens, and now I'm pulling her into me and pushing her away with every thrust. Every slap of her ass against my legs and pelvis is accompanied by a shaky squeak from her mouth. Our breath comes in ragged gasps. We're both covered in sweat. And with a wordless shout of my own, I drive my cock as deep as I can and I let go.

For the briefest of moments, I'm blinded by the searing, white light of sensory overload. Cum explodes from my dick, then continues to erupt in short, fast bursts. I can feel the hot fluid crowding around my cock inside her. Then, unexpectedly, she tenses again and her pussy tightens around me. She's cumming with me.

“Fuck!”

Not original, or insightful, or witty in any way, but the word is the most appropriate exclamation possible.

“Fuck,” I repeat, this time with a long exhalation.

I bend down and kiss her spine, then her shoulders and neck. She turns her face toward me, and we share a long, passionate kiss. Her tongue finds its way inside my mouth, then mine works into hers.

After some time—it could be seconds or minutes, my brain isn't capable of telling the difference at that point—we pull apart. I step back slowly, pulling my cock out of her as I go. A droplet of cum follows, hangs for a moment, and then falls to the bed. The majority, though, is still buried well within her.

“I'm sorry that you have to go,” I say to her as she flips onto her back and stands.

“Not as sorry as I am,” she responds, stepping forward and throwing her arms around me. She rests her head on my chest, and I wrap my arms around the small of her back. We stand like that for a short while, and then she pulls back.

She really does have to go.

“I want you to keep my gift with you while you work,” I tell her. “I'll ask you to send me a photo sometime later.”

She smiles and nods her understanding as she pulls on her clothes. I follow her lead and quickly dress myself. We hug once more, and then I walk her to the front door. There, we share one more long kiss, and then she's gone.

I can't stop thinking about getting my cum into your warm pussy.

It's been nearly an hour, but every attempt at clearing my mind is derailed by the graphic imaginings of my desire. I reach down to squeeze my aching cock—it's been hard for just as long as I've been trying to get to sleep.

Desire?

Clearly not strong enough a word. There's only one way I'm getting to sleep tonight.

Moving carefully so I don't wake you, I slide out from under the sheets and sit up. It's a hot summer night, so you're not under the covers. You are also not wearing anything, as usual when we're home alone. There are no lights on inside or anywhere nearby, but it's a clear night out and the moon provides enough light for me to make out details. I take a moment to drink in the sight of you.

You're asleep on your back, which is usual for you. Your right arm is down at your side, your left stretched out so that your hand dangles over the side of the bed. Your legs are spread, your right bent at a slight angle while your left points straight to the bottom of the bed. Your plump breasts rest on your slowly expanding and contracting chest, and I imagine them dancing to a more vigorous pace. My cock pulses in my hand, pressing hard against my firm grip, and I bite my lower lip to keep from groaning.

I slowly make my way around the side of the bed, brushing your hand with my leg as I do. You don't stir. You're a heavy sleeper—a delightful fact that more than makes up for my wish that you would prefer to sleep on your stomach rather than your back. I do wistfully imagine what it would be like to be studying the sensuous curve of your ass as I come to stand mid-bed, right about where your hips are, but I'm pulled back to reality when my gaze falls upon the dark spot between your legs.

Pussy.

My pussy.

I let go of my cock, using the freedom to grab our lubricant off the shelf above the bed's headboard. I squeeze a healthy dollop into my palm, and then I wrap my hand around my cock again and give it a few thorough strokes to get lubed up. One hand still gripping my engorged member, I put my right knee up on the bed and swing my left leg over your left. On the bed, I shuffle one more time so that both of my knees are between your legs. I slowly spread my legs, forcing yours open even further.

A little snort, a flick of your hand—that's all the reaction I get as I force your legs wide enough to make room for my body. I fucking love how heavily you sleep.

Using my hand as a guide, I set the tip of my dick against your labia. When I'm lined up, I slide into you with a smooth thrust, not hard and fast, but not sneaky slow. At the same time, I cover your mouth with my left hand.

Your eyelids snap open and your hands instantly grab my arm at my wrist and a bit farther up, near my elbow. You try to close your legs, squeezing me in the process.

“Stop.”

I whisper the word, but you hear my voice and your body obeys immediately. Your hands don't move from my arm, but the intensity of your grip scales down from panic to familiarity. Your legs don't stop squeezing me, but now you're not trying to close them—you're pulling me into you, wrapping your calves across my lower back and locking your ankles together.

You give me the slightest of nods, and I pull my hand away from your mouth. I press my chest against yours and wrap my arms behind your back so that my hands are on your shoulders, pulling you down, impaling you on my pulsing sex. My mouth is centimeters from you ear, and I whisper again, even more quietly.

“Take my cum.”

Obediently, you start to move. I have a firm grip on your shoulders and I keep my cock fully sheathed inside you, so you settle on a rhythmic grinding. I enjoy a few beats before I join in, grinding in counter-motion to your movements. Your hands find their way to the back of my head, where your fingers tangle themselves in my hair. Placing your lips directly against my ear, you moan quietly.

You know what I like.

My heartbeat quickens and my grinding becomes fierce—desperate. My breath comes in shallow bursts and sweat beads on my skin all over my body. You're covered in sweat now, too, and you continue to moan right into my ear. You are skillfully quiet, but each delicious sound from your mouth fills my head and pushes out all thought.

I am nothing but sensation in the dark. Fire in my abs, my glutes, my calves. A different sort of fire at the base of my dick, a growing inferno that consumes all, until—in an explosion of fluid—my vision is colored with the searing, white heat of my orgasm.

Feeling me cum, you squeeze my phallus with your pussy, milking every drop of semen out of me. My good girl. We lay there for several minutes—my cock throbbing and pumping more cum into you with each pulse, your pussy contracting and releasing over and over again in sync with my ejaculations—until our racing hearts slow and our breathing becomes more regular.

“Thank you, my love, for the gift of your cum,” you whisper into my ear.

I kiss your shoulder, then your neck. I bring my mouth to your ear and nibble your lobe.

“You're welcome, mi amor. Now—”

I untangle myself and pull away from you. We both sigh as my cock comes out of you, and that brings a smile to my face. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand, then I take a few steps forward to bring my dick closer to your face.

You don't need to be told what to do, and you take your cleaning duties seriously: first you take my entire cock in your mouth to clean off the bulk of our fluids, and then you use your hands and your tongue to carefully go over every inch of skin on my penis and around my balls, licking me clean of any sexual stickiness.

When you're done, I bend down to give you a kiss. I taste myself when my tongue slides inside your mouth, then again when yours slips into my mine.

“Go to sleep, love,” I whisper as I pull away. “Remember that we're filming with Jordan tomorrow. I want you well rested for him—you know that boy can fuck for days.”

“Yes, my love,” you whisper back, giving my softening cock one last squeeze with your hand before you drop your arms and you start trying to get back to sleep. I carefully climb into bed and close my eyes. Blissfully, my mind is a blank void. I drift to sleep in minutes, a smile on my face.

“Hey!”

You smile and wave to me as you walk through the front door, but I can see the strain. It's been a tough day.

“Bad day at work?”

“The worst.”

You walk over to where I'm seated on the couch, and you start to kneel at my feet. I reach out to stop you.

“No, my love. Come here.”

I set aside my laptop and draw you on to me. I can feel the heat of your desire for me warming my lap through our clothes. My heart rate picks up, and I feel a stirring in my loins. I press my head to your chest and wrap my arms around you, embracing you in a firm but gentle hug.

Your arms sweep around my back and the back of my neck. The fingers of one hand work their way into the hair at the back of head, and you hold me tightly to you.

We hold each other for a long time that way, feeling each other breathe, your heart pounding regularly in my ear.

Finally, I let my hold on you relax. I pull my head back to look up into your face.

“Go take a hot shower. Relax. When you're finished, don't put anything on. Get on the bed and lie on your front. Get comfortable. I have a few things to finish up here, but I'll join you soon.”

You nod. You seem genuinely grateful and, though it may be just my imagination, your eyes seem to grow moist.

“Now give me a kiss, mi amor,” I say quietly.

You bend your head down and we share a long, tender kiss. When we pull away, I can see that a tear has managed to crawl down your face to your chin.

I wasn't imagining it. You must have had a really bad day.

You laugh at yourself and turn your head, embarrassed, reaching up to wipe away the salty evidence of your surrender to the day's negativity, but I grab your wrist to stop you. With my free hand, I turn your face toward me. I let your wrist go and your hand drops to my lap. I reach up and wipe away the tear myself. Then I pull your face down to mine and give you another, shorter kiss.

“Now get that beautiful ass in the shower,” I tell you lightly. “Take your time.”

You laugh again, but this time with warmth. “Yes, my love.” Without warning, you squeeze me with another hug, and then you're off, heading to the room.

I watch every motion of your legs and ass hungrily as you walk away.

“Fuuck,” I breathe. I shut my eyes and press my palm against the front of my pants, massaging my stiffening penis into a more comfortable position.

Another deep breath, then I pick up my laptop and get back to work.

A minute or two later, I hear the water come on in the bathroom. I hear you close the shower door behind you, and then I lose myself in my work. At some point, I hear the water shut off and the sound of the shower door again, but I'm not finished yet.

A few minutes more, and my task is completed. I shut the laptop, stand, and I carry it over to my desk, where I plug it in and leave it for the night.

When I get to the room, you're lying naked on the bed, your breasts on the mattress, just as I instructed you. Your forearms are crossed under your head; your head is turned sideways, your face toward me. You look as though you could be sleeping, but you open one eye to watch as I undress at the side of the bed. A smile touches your lips, but you say nothing.

You shut your eye again as I walk to the foot of the bed, grabbing the massage oil off the small shelf on the wall as I go. Your legs are together, your feet just an inch or two apart, and I take a moment to drink in the sight of your heart-shaped ass as I warm some oil by rubbing it into my hands.

Then I start on your left foot.

I massage the arch of your foot with circular motions of my thumbs, pressing out toward your heel. From there, I slowly work up your leg; I spend a few minutes on your calf, then another few minutes on your thigh. As I move higher, I give your right leg a gentle nudge. You know what I want, so you spread your legs a little wider.

Now I can get my hands to your inner thigh with ease. There, the heat radiating from your sex warms my fingers as I work. I brush against your swollen labia, and I'm rewarded with a throaty sigh. I bend down to kiss the back of your leg, just below the sexy curve where it meets your ass, and I slide the index finger of my right hand inside you. I feel your muscles flex, and your pussy squeezes my finger, then releases.

I am so fucking glad I made it a priority to get you trained to have that kind of control.

I pull my finger out reluctantly. A part of me wants desperately to fuck you right now. I'll finish your massage later. I fight that down. You've had a rough day, and I'm determined to help purge it from your body.

Anyway, I can't do just one leg. I think I would have an aneurysm. I must have symmetry.

I walk my hands back down your left leg, and then I start on your right foot. I repeat the process, again sliding a finger inside you when I reach your inner thigh. Again, I stop myself short of fucking you right then.

Not yet.

I move to the side of the bed and I pull your left arm out from under your head. I work on your fingers, then your palm, your forearm, and finally your upper arm. I walk around to the other side of the bed, pull out your right arm, and repeat the work. My fingers are feeling fatigued at this point, but I refuse to let that stop me.

I walk back to the foot of the bed, where I take your feet in my hands and I push them close together again. You follow my lead obediently and close your legs. I have to take a deep breath as the beautiful, pink slit of your womanhood closes and vanishes from view as your legs come together.

Soon. Very soon.

I climb onto the bed, my knees to either side of your legs so that I'm straddling you. I crawl up on hands and knees, kissing the backs of your legs as I move upward. When I reach that curve at the top of your legs, I straighten up and shuffle forward another few inches so that my hard cock now hovers right over your ass. I put my palms on your buttocks and I start to massage them with exaggerated circular motions. I press hard, to make sure that I reach the muscles deep down. I'm rewarded this time with a throaty groan.

After a few minutes of working on your ass, I press my thumbs down into the curve at your inner thighs and I pull outward, spreading your cheeks. There, again, is the mesmerizing pink slit of your sex.

Now.

Yes, I agree with that ever-present voice in my head. Now.

I thrust my cock forward and the sensitive tip of my member instantly sends signals of heat and moisture to my brain. I clench my teeth and fight the urge to cum right then. Slowly, my breath caught in my throat, I ease into you.

“Please cum in me, my love.”

Your voice is quiet, but strong and sure. You know what you're asking. You know that I could cum in you right now, and then you would have to wait at least a quarter of an hour for a proper fucking. You want me to cum. You want my cum inside you.

I love you for it, and a fierce possessiveness comes over me. My hands grip your hips tightly, and my fingers dig into your skin as I pull your waist up and toward me, driving my cock even deeper inside you. I hold you there with a persistent pull toward me; your muscles tense, and your pussy grips my dick. We breathe together, unmoving.

Several dozen heartbeats later, I hear your quiet, insistent voice again.

“Please, my love. Please cum.”

You punctuate your words by releasing your grip on my cock for just a moment before squeezing again, and you shimmy your ass against me.

It is almost painful to fight against the fire in my loins, the pending eruption of my orgasm stemmed by the force of a will stretched nearly to breaking. You know what you're doing. You know that you could make me cum this very moment with just a few artful thrusts of your own. You also know that I would be disappointed if you took away my right to choose when to give you the gift of my cum.

You hold yourself still while I take several deep breaths.

“Not yet.”

My voice is little more than a whisper. Every ounce of my will is struggling to regain control. A minute passes. Two minutes.

Finally, I feel like I can risk moving without breaking the dam I've set to hold back the flood of my lust for you.

“Not yet, mi amor,” I say again, this time with more confidence. “I still need to work on your back and shoulders.”

So I do just that.

With my dick buried inside you, your ass pressed firmly against my waist, I work on your lower back, then your upper back, and then your shoulders. I spend an extra minute on your neck, for good measure.

Now I'm ready to let go.

Starting at your shoulders, I press my palms firmly into your back and draw them down toward your lower back in a slow, steady motion. As I do, I push my hips back to pull my cock out of you, until just the sensitive tip of my head is still inside your pussy.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Now I push my palms back up toward your shoulders in that same slow, deliberate motion. My hips follow my hands; I thrust forward and deep into the welcoming embrace of your love, so that my hands reach your shoulders just as your ass presses against my waist again.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Again and again, I repeat the exercise. I allow the slow, repetitive motion to consume me so that nothing else fills my mind. Up and down. In and out.

By the time that familiar fire has built back up to an unmanageable intensity, we are both covered in sweat and we're breathing heavily.

“I'm going to cum.”

I don't need to tell her, but I like to hear the words. I want her to know what she's doing to me.

“Oh, fuck yes, my love,” you say loudly into the mattress between ragged breaths. “Please cum inside me. Please.”

As my hands come up to your shoulders, I move my right hand to the back of your head, where my fingers work into your hair; the fingers of my left hand close around the back of your neck. Firmly, but with a smooth motion so as not to hurt your neck or your scalp, I pull your hair to lift your head off the bed. I slide my left hand around to the front of your neck, and I put pressure on your throat—not enough to restrict your airway completely, but enough to limit the oxygen reaching your brain.

I drive my hips into you, grinding side to side as I seek to touch your farthest reaches with my phallus. A few deep, forceful thrusts, and I groan in ecstasy as the first wave of my ejaculate is pumped into your pussy.

“Oh fuck!” Your exclamation comes through clenched teeth and a shortness of breath, but I hear you clearly. “Fuck, I'm cumming!”

Your pussy clamps down on my cock and begins to draw me in with powerful waves of clenched and unclenched muscles. Your body trembles beneath mine, and your hands curl into fists. Every tiny movement earns another spasm from my cock, another wave of hot cum filling you and being forced out around my shaft with each powerful clenching and unclenching of your sex.

Finally, I am spent. I hold you firmly while you ride out the last quakes of your orgasm. When you are finished, I allow the tension to leave my body. I feel exhausted. Beat up.

I feel glorious.

Slowly, stiffly, I ease off of you and fall onto my back next to you. You turn your head to look at me.

“That was wonderful, my love.”

“Yes it was, mi amor.”

“Thank you.”

You put your head to mine, and we kiss. Your tongue is thick and hot in my mouth. Your lips are like warm pillows massaging my own.

You pull away. With a moan borne of exhaustion, you draw your knees under your chest and you kneel on the bed at my side. You shift slightly, turning your torso, and then you bend at the waist to lower your face to my cock.

Now it's my turn to moan, this time with the pleasure of overstimulation as you carefully and lovingly lick every last drop of cum off my dick, my balls, and my pelvis. My hands work their way into your hair again while you clean me off.

When you're finished, I pat the bed beside me.

“Let's take a nap,” I tell you.

You flash me that smile that makes my heart flutter, and then you lie down beside me, draping your left leg over my lower body and your left arm across my torso. You rest your head on my chest. My left arm is under your body and it will probably be full of pins and needles when we wake, but I don't care. I rest my right hand on your head, and I listen to your breathing until I hear the telltale change that tells me you've fallen asleep.

I lift my head a short distance to bring my face to the crown of your head, where I press my lips against you in a soft kiss. Then I lay my head back, shut my eyes, and drift off to join you in sleep.

I love orgasms, of course. They're amazing. But when I'm enjoying a playmate, delighting in her body, I really don't want to cum. Cumming marks the end of fucking, and I love fucking more than I love cumming.

Porn would have you believe that most guys can stay rock hard after cumming, but porn would also have you believe that every stepmother is fucking her stepson and all black men have huge cocks. The truth, for me, is that I soften almost immediately after cumming, and I'm fully flaccid in just a couple of minutes. This happens even if I'm still very much into the sex, and I generally can't get hard again for at least 15 minutes—sometimes not for 30 minutes to an hour—no matter how fucking sexy my playmate is or how much I would like to continue fucking her.

Now, you might be thinking to yourself: You can continue to be sexual and to have sex without an erect penis. You're correct, of course, and I certainly do continue—with toys, with my fingers, with my mouth—when my penis isn't an option. I love fucking in all its forms, and I can have a lot of fun without involving my dick. That said, there's nothing in the world I'd rather be doing than fucking. Proper fucking, with my bare cock inside a warm pussy.

I want that to last. Every minute—every second—that I get to experience that blissful physical union with a woman is a moment I would like to stretch into eternity. So, even though I need an orgasm at the end of a good fuck, I don't want to cum.

No filling until I've had my fill 😉

Totally random, I know, but I just caught myself daydreaming about a partner who would enjoy simply having me inside her, keeping me hard and warm even when we’re not actively fucking. That got me on a tangent, thinking about a term I first saw defined somewhere here on FetLife.

From the Wikipedia entry for penis captivus, a source describing a particular couple’s experience:

She and her husband had to abstain from sexual intercourse because her intense vaginal contractions were “most painful to him and … did on several occasions end in a spasm … which sometimes lasted more than ten minutes and made it impossible for the couple to separate.”

I would be delighted if this was a regular occurrence for me. (The intense contractions and captivity, not the abstinence. Obviously.) I can’t be the only one…