Nasha
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Sep 16, 2006
- Posts
- 173
ETA: I should have prefaced with this, earlier:
My apologies for taking up real estate here in the AH, but I have a question on a fairly specific issue, and I thought I'd have a better shot of getting an informed or interested reply here, as opposed to the Story Feedback forum.
I've got a scene in a story I'm writing, where a woman gets a double dildo, enjoys it on her own for a bit, then uses it to fuck her bi male lover.
If anyone thinks they might enjoy reading such a scene, I'd love to know: does the encounter comes of as believable, or not? I'm afraid my personal experience in these matters is, sadly, limited.
ETA I'm not looking for a critique of my writing, so much as just wondering if, as you read, you're shaking your head going, "Yeah, I don't think so..."
A photo of the particular toy from the scene is here.
And here's the scene. Some names may have been changed to protect the innocent.
It was beautiful. An abstract sculpture in clear acrylic. All smooth roundnesses—its surface, its structure. Its body long and thick and solid, its neck delicate, slender and curved, its head a modest, elegant oval.
In her palm, the weight of it was comforting. Inspiring.
Cool and smooth under her fingers. Against her cheek, her lips, her belly.
On her back, she spread her legs. Contemplated her mound with its sparse coat of fair fuzz. Watching, she pressed the oval to her arousal-slick opening, first just feeling the cool roundness touching her, then the pleasant pressure as the oval opened her, little by little as her cunt enveloped it, holding it, cool and smooth and round, deep inside her. The delicate neck curved and emerged from between her pink, downy lips. And, just below her clit, the full, graceful swell of the base of the phallus which rose, thick and long and translucent, hovering over her belly.
Her cock.
When she flexed her PC muscle, the tip of her cock lurched upward, and when she relaxed it fell back to hover an inch or two above her belly. When she did a quick burst of flexes it bounced up and down obediently, the weight of her cock rocking the acrylic egg inside of her.
Getting on all fours and looking down the length of her torso, her cock aimed itself right at her, then performed its tricks all over again. Only the brush of the egg inside of her teased with a slightly different pressure. Lena sat back on her heels and, admiring how eagerly it pointed at the ceiling, wrapped her fingers around her cock. And she smiled. Almost laughed.
Her grip skidded up the length of her thick, clear shaft. On the downstroke, the egg tried to escape the grip of her enveloping muscles. Lena stretched for the nightstand drawer, snatched up a bottle of lube, shot three squirt into her palm, and coated her cock. Now her grip slipped up and down, and the egg gave up its efforts at escape—it just bumped pleasantly against her knot of nerves when she pulled up, and relented when she pulled down.
Loosening her grip, she caressed the subtle curves of the base, the center, the tip, enjoying the cool, smooth glide of it against her palm, under her fingertips. If she fisted her cock, fast and firm, the egg tapped against her with a delicious, staccato rhythm. Could she come, just like that?
It surprised her how soon her arm got tired. She caught herself smiling. On impulse, she'd wrapped her other hand around her gorgeous, glass-hard shaft, and was pumping her hips into her grip in a slow rhythm.
The first time the fat swell of the base glanced off her clit a shock of pleasure rippled through her sex and after, she heard her own startled little sob. Now she started swiveling her hips as she pumped them, working for that thrilling contact, thrusting her cock into the slick tunnel of her grip, rubbing and bumping her clit against the hard swell of acrylic.
Now her thighs were burning with the effort of levering her weight up and down, forward and back. She collapsed forward, onto her knees and one forearm, fisting and fucking, jerking her cock with her hand, thrusting her hard shaft into the grip of her fingers. Over and over the egg inside of her bumped against that knot of nerves, while she desperately humped that gorgeous hardness by her clit.
Yes, please, yes, she was going to. The maddening little thrill of her clit rubbing and sliding, dragging up and down that crystal hill, each thrust hitting her g-spot, prodding that deep, strange pleasure. Please, there, yes, the want, the ache swelled and swelled and burst and spilled as she bucked, again, again, and collapsed, panting, her thighs and arm muscles burning, her cunt throbbing around the egg-shaped root of her cock.
OOOOO
Her hands and feet were cold, and there was a queasy knot in her belly, but her sex was pulsing insistently around the bulbous root of her cock. The water had only been running for a couple of minutes, and as Greg had told her once, before she really knew him, Victor took long showers.
As she walked across the room her cock bounced a little with each step, and the hard acrylic egg rocked inside of her. She perched on the armchair at the far side of the bed. The chair where Victor had waited for her that first night, before they'd even met. Deep breaths. For the thousandth time she chastised herself for not just talking to him first, as she arranged the folds of her white kimono robe.
The hum of the water cut out. Her heart paused, then pounded, thump thump thumping fast and hard. At the last second she changed her mind about sitting. She rose, smoothed the gathers of her robe, and straightened beside the chair. Willing herself to stay still, she watched the bathroom door open.
When he stepped into the room, naked, the setting sun bathed him in its tangerine light. His golden eyes fixed on her, and he smiled. The pounding of her heart, the pulsing of her sex, everything dialed up as Victor approached.
“Do I understand, Lena? You've come to me?”
“Yes.” Her face went hot because her voice had broken on the word.
“But look at you.” There it was, his amused look. But his gaze was tender. “You are so nervous.” Gently he stroked her fine growth of hair. “You have not come to me too soon? Before you are ready?”
Lena turned her head, “no.”
He went on, gazing at her, as he caressed her, fingertips faintly touching her neck, her shoulder, her throat—just where her robe left her skin bare. His soft lips brushed her temple. Her cheek. Her ear. Little shivers shimmered down her body and pooled, thrumming, in the swelling heat of her sex. Then he kissed, his warm lips touching hers. Soft. Waiting. Again.
His kiss. She wanted to sink into the sweet heat of his mouth, but every pulse of her wet cunt against the hard stem of her cock worried her.
“Just...” she halted.
His golden gaze was so warm, so kind. “Tell me, Lena.”
“I...” she tried again. “You might not...” She was being so ridiculous. Her fear broke over a helpless laugh. “I have a surprise. And it's alright, if you don't like it.”
“Yes?” he purred, smiling.
She took his hand, noticing he was already half hard. Her heart seized as she pressed his palm to the silk of her robe where it veiled her acrylic erection.
He sighed. Nearly groaned. She watched as he curved his fingers around her shaft and gently, slowly slid the white silk up. Then down.
“Lena.” It was a low growl.
Their foreheads tipped together, the both looked down as he parted the skirt of her robe, revealing her translucent prick.
“C'est jolie, Lena,” he breathed. “Like a ghost. An impression of a cock.” He opened the skirt wider, exposing her naked hips. “No...le mot? No straps?” He paused. “So, it is inside you?” he sighed, finally.
Victor's cock had risen up beside hers. Almost touching.
“And when I touch, like this...” he curved two fingers behind the swell of acrylic at the end of her cock, and gave two gentle little tugs, rocking the orb up inside of her, “you feel this touch?”
“Yes,” she breathed, the sight of him doing that magnifying the rousing sensation.
He half sighed, half laughed, leaning into her, his warm breath moist on her cheek. “And this,” he ran the pads of those two fingers along the length of her shaft, “it excites you?”
“Yes.”
“And,” he he breathed, his golden eyes sparking in a way she'd never seen before, “you want to fuck me with this cock of yours?”
“Yes.”
Victor came on, sinking into her kiss with a fervent heat that was new, to her. A surge of need swept away her anxiety. She forgot everything except Victor's hungry kiss, the heat and the faint quivering of his naked body against her, the delicious slickness of her cunt as it pulsed around the hardness inside her.
They surfaced from that deep, urgent kiss. Gentle, now, Victor took her lips in soft little kisses, delicately danced his tongue against hers. Then he slipped away. Looked at her a moment. Came back with another soft, sweet kiss.
His hands converged on the loose knot at her waist, his long, delicate fingers untying the cord. She tried to meet his gaze with a smile. The knot undone, he held her gaze as he slid the silk from her shoulders and her robe slipped to the floor.
With delicate fingertips he traced over her. His touch glided down, traversing her breasts, faintly tickling her belly, touching along her jutting cock, almost invisible in the fading light. His eyes followed his hand over her body, then turned up to meet her gaze.
“You're magnificent, Lena.” His gaze was tender. His voice was frayed with emotion. And it didn't hurt his credibility that his cock was still flushed and hard. “Tu sais bien, Lena, que je t'aime, mais tu dois savoir, aussi, que tu es belle. Absolument magnifique.” Nothing in her doubted him.
On the bed they kissed and touched. Victor was like a whole world she'd slipped into. His skin, warm, smooth, taut over his lean muscles, his long frame, was like velvet under her lips, the scent of him filling her lungs and urging her on, his salt tang on her tongue as she tasted him, the smooth plane of his belly under her lips, her tongue, his nipples, full and dark, going hard as she grazed them with her teeth, worried them with the tip of her tongue. The rich musk of his cock, hard and straining for her kiss. His breaths, his sighs. His warm gaze.
That tugging ache low in her belly had her almost whining. But her want was bigger than that. Victor. She needed more of him.
“What?” he grinned. He'd caught her smiling.
“The last week or so,” she said, still teasing his cock with her fingertips, “I've been like a cat in heat. As you noticed.”
“Yes.”
“But it was just hormones. My body. My cunt.” She laughed. “I feel like the rest of me just caught up. I want you with everything in me. I want you so badly, there's not room for anything else. It feels so good.”
Victor smiled and kissed her eyes and when he kissed her lips she tasted her tears.
“But I didn't think I'd be so nervous. Ever done it with a virgin before?”
“No.” He kissed the corner of her smile. Kissed her wet lashes. “You will be my first.”
Lena slipped down, kissed and nibbled the lean flesh of Victor's inner thigh, taunted his cock with her tongue as she slipped one lubed-up fingertip between his cheeks and teased his asshole. Petting his balls, stroking his cock, she slid her finger inside him as he gazed down on her from under his dark fringe of lashes, his belly rising and falling with rapid little breaths. Her cunt pulsing insistently around the base of her cock, she loaded up two fingers with more lube and worked them into the hot grip of his body, pumping into him, opening him.
“Lena,”he said, his voice gentle but threaded with urgency, “please.”
She pulled her fingers from the clinging grip of his body, and watched Victor slick her cock with lube, the sensuous movements of his graceful fingers along the length of her cock reverberating through her sex. Kneeling between his thighs, she touched the tip of her cock to his dark clench, pressing gently until the grip of him held her firmly in place. She leaned over him. Sank into a slow, wet kiss. Their mouths parted, their eyes locked, and she went into him with a slow push of her hips.
Something disturbed the tranquility of those golden eyes.
“Am I hurting you?”
He smiled. “No. No, Lena.”
He curved a hand at the back of her neck and pulled her in for a deep kiss, stirring up her tender affection, together with a fierce need. God, she was shaking. She planted her hands and tried working her hips between Victor's thighs, keeping her movements shallow, conservative, because she was afraid of slipping out of him, afraid of wrenching out the egg rooting the cock inside of her.
It was easier when she went up on her knees. She could watch the thick shaft of her cock emerge as she swiveled her hips back, and watch it sink into him again when she pulsed forward. Little by little it got easier. She stopped fretting about doing it right as sensation and instinct took over.
When she ran her nails up the inside of Victor's thighs his abs flexed as he caught his breath. Joy rose up in her, big and buoying. She watched as Victor's expression reflected her smile.
More and more the acrylic cock felt like her own. Part of her body. Each little pulse of her hips charged her sex with a surge of pleasure, the hard swell of the egg rubbing and bumping inside of her, her wet, swollen folds grinding and sliding over the stem curving between that ovoid root and the hard shaft she was pumping into Victor's ass.
Victor's golden eyes flickered over her, watching her face, the pulse of her hips, the flex and sway of her body. She wanted him to look. Felt wanted and strong under his gaze. He smiled again, then gasped and furrowed his brow as she traced the silhouette of his cock against his lean belly with the pad of her index finger. When she curved her fingers around the hard girth of his shaft he groaned a little, his eyes flashing between her face and her hand as she caressed him.
The warm weight of him in her hand, the delicate velvet of his skin shifting over his rigid length as she stroked him, fed her want. Fascinated, she watched the bead of nectar swelling at the tip of his cock, then painted it over the plump dome. All along, she worked her hips between his thighs, watching how his lips parted, how his belly quivered, how the light flared behind his eyes.
She squeezed a fat dollop of lube into her palm, eager to watch the pleasure rippling through Victor's expression, through his body. But he caught her wrist.
“Already I am too close,” he warned, his voice uneven. “Please, don't let me finish before you're ready.”
“Alright,” she promised, somehow touched by how vulnerable Victor sounded, just then.
She brought the little puddle of lube in her palm between his cock and belly, and lifted her hand until the tip of his cock dipped into the gelatinous pool. Victor gasped and his hips bucked under her, jolting her with a deep, prodding pressure that brought ripples of pleasure behind it. Slowly, she slid her hand down the length of his erection, then up, just as slowly, then down the underside this time, glossing his cock.
Every slow stroke of her grip up the length of his hard-on, every pulsing squeeze and swirl of her hand over the full, flushed head provoked a startled gasp, a quiver in that taut, umber belly, a flicker in those golden irids. Lena listened to every sigh, watched every twitch of every muscle in Victor's face, enjoying keeping him at the edge, careful of letting him slip over.
And all the time she was fucking him, pumping her cock in and out of his ass, every little movement stirring her nerves, swelling her pleasure bigger, heavier. But there was no struggle. Her pleasure was like a rolling sea, and she was swimming for the joy of it, without a destination.
But a moment later she was slipping under, her pleasure swallowing her. Whimpering, rocking her hips in little desperate movements, she let go, her cunt spasming around the prodding hardness buried deep inside her, wave after wave of pleasure rippling through her.
She focused her gaze on Victor as she came back to herself, and the look on his face made her face got hot.
“My god,” he sighed, “you are so gorgeous to watch. Fucking and coming and blushing.”
Lena sank onto here hands to kiss him, to feel the heat and strength of his body against hers, to feel his arms holding her to him. After a long, deep kiss, after catching her breath and feeling her strength coming back she gave him an eager smile.
“What do you want, Victor? My mouth? Or do you want to fuck me?”
Still holding her, almost clinging to her, he answered in a frayed voice, “Please, if you still have strength, fuck me and caress me, as you were. I want to finish like this, with you inside me.”
His words, the way he looked at her as he said them roused her sated sex all over again. Fuck yes.
She kissed him again, deep and wanting, like all of him could never be enough, and pulsed her hips a little, her breath hitching at how bare, how raw all her nerves felt after her orgasm. Staying with him, right there in his heat, where their lips could touch, she worked her hand between them, sheathed his cock in her grip.
Now, as she pumped her cock into him in a gentle rhythm, every pulse of her hips drove her hand up and down his cock. She kissed his lips, breathed his sighs. Gazed into Victor's eyes, warming and pulling her to him like two fiery suns. Her own need was creeping up on her again as she fucked him, keeping her grip tight for a few slow, deep thrusts, then softening the touch of her hand as it slid over the length of him, feeling him twitch and shudder under her as she swirled her hand around the swollen head.
Victor's fingers curved to the back of her head, keeping her close, and he took her kiss, sucking at her tongue, biting her lip, then releasing her mouth and holding her gaze with his. Every breath was a groan, now, staccato little pants, then a long gasp for air, then around again.
He was right there, and her own nerves were ratcheting up for another climax. She humped needfully, tiny little urgent thrusts, begging for it, going after it, pulsing her grip up and down the length of Victor's cock, incredibly hard now. Yes, there, fuck, yes, she twitched into him, groaning her climax through clenched teeth, riding it out, her cunt spasming as Victor's mouth opened in a low growl and his hips flexed up to meet hers and a wet heat seeped between them, thick and slick against her belly, her chest, on her hand.
My apologies for taking up real estate here in the AH, but I have a question on a fairly specific issue, and I thought I'd have a better shot of getting an informed or interested reply here, as opposed to the Story Feedback forum.
I've got a scene in a story I'm writing, where a woman gets a double dildo, enjoys it on her own for a bit, then uses it to fuck her bi male lover.
If anyone thinks they might enjoy reading such a scene, I'd love to know: does the encounter comes of as believable, or not? I'm afraid my personal experience in these matters is, sadly, limited.
ETA I'm not looking for a critique of my writing, so much as just wondering if, as you read, you're shaking your head going, "Yeah, I don't think so..."
A photo of the particular toy from the scene is here.
And here's the scene. Some names may have been changed to protect the innocent.
It was beautiful. An abstract sculpture in clear acrylic. All smooth roundnesses—its surface, its structure. Its body long and thick and solid, its neck delicate, slender and curved, its head a modest, elegant oval.
In her palm, the weight of it was comforting. Inspiring.
Cool and smooth under her fingers. Against her cheek, her lips, her belly.
On her back, she spread her legs. Contemplated her mound with its sparse coat of fair fuzz. Watching, she pressed the oval to her arousal-slick opening, first just feeling the cool roundness touching her, then the pleasant pressure as the oval opened her, little by little as her cunt enveloped it, holding it, cool and smooth and round, deep inside her. The delicate neck curved and emerged from between her pink, downy lips. And, just below her clit, the full, graceful swell of the base of the phallus which rose, thick and long and translucent, hovering over her belly.
Her cock.
When she flexed her PC muscle, the tip of her cock lurched upward, and when she relaxed it fell back to hover an inch or two above her belly. When she did a quick burst of flexes it bounced up and down obediently, the weight of her cock rocking the acrylic egg inside of her.
Getting on all fours and looking down the length of her torso, her cock aimed itself right at her, then performed its tricks all over again. Only the brush of the egg inside of her teased with a slightly different pressure. Lena sat back on her heels and, admiring how eagerly it pointed at the ceiling, wrapped her fingers around her cock. And she smiled. Almost laughed.
Her grip skidded up the length of her thick, clear shaft. On the downstroke, the egg tried to escape the grip of her enveloping muscles. Lena stretched for the nightstand drawer, snatched up a bottle of lube, shot three squirt into her palm, and coated her cock. Now her grip slipped up and down, and the egg gave up its efforts at escape—it just bumped pleasantly against her knot of nerves when she pulled up, and relented when she pulled down.
Loosening her grip, she caressed the subtle curves of the base, the center, the tip, enjoying the cool, smooth glide of it against her palm, under her fingertips. If she fisted her cock, fast and firm, the egg tapped against her with a delicious, staccato rhythm. Could she come, just like that?
It surprised her how soon her arm got tired. She caught herself smiling. On impulse, she'd wrapped her other hand around her gorgeous, glass-hard shaft, and was pumping her hips into her grip in a slow rhythm.
The first time the fat swell of the base glanced off her clit a shock of pleasure rippled through her sex and after, she heard her own startled little sob. Now she started swiveling her hips as she pumped them, working for that thrilling contact, thrusting her cock into the slick tunnel of her grip, rubbing and bumping her clit against the hard swell of acrylic.
Now her thighs were burning with the effort of levering her weight up and down, forward and back. She collapsed forward, onto her knees and one forearm, fisting and fucking, jerking her cock with her hand, thrusting her hard shaft into the grip of her fingers. Over and over the egg inside of her bumped against that knot of nerves, while she desperately humped that gorgeous hardness by her clit.
Yes, please, yes, she was going to. The maddening little thrill of her clit rubbing and sliding, dragging up and down that crystal hill, each thrust hitting her g-spot, prodding that deep, strange pleasure. Please, there, yes, the want, the ache swelled and swelled and burst and spilled as she bucked, again, again, and collapsed, panting, her thighs and arm muscles burning, her cunt throbbing around the egg-shaped root of her cock.
OOOOO
Her hands and feet were cold, and there was a queasy knot in her belly, but her sex was pulsing insistently around the bulbous root of her cock. The water had only been running for a couple of minutes, and as Greg had told her once, before she really knew him, Victor took long showers.
As she walked across the room her cock bounced a little with each step, and the hard acrylic egg rocked inside of her. She perched on the armchair at the far side of the bed. The chair where Victor had waited for her that first night, before they'd even met. Deep breaths. For the thousandth time she chastised herself for not just talking to him first, as she arranged the folds of her white kimono robe.
The hum of the water cut out. Her heart paused, then pounded, thump thump thumping fast and hard. At the last second she changed her mind about sitting. She rose, smoothed the gathers of her robe, and straightened beside the chair. Willing herself to stay still, she watched the bathroom door open.
When he stepped into the room, naked, the setting sun bathed him in its tangerine light. His golden eyes fixed on her, and he smiled. The pounding of her heart, the pulsing of her sex, everything dialed up as Victor approached.
“Do I understand, Lena? You've come to me?”
“Yes.” Her face went hot because her voice had broken on the word.
“But look at you.” There it was, his amused look. But his gaze was tender. “You are so nervous.” Gently he stroked her fine growth of hair. “You have not come to me too soon? Before you are ready?”
Lena turned her head, “no.”
He went on, gazing at her, as he caressed her, fingertips faintly touching her neck, her shoulder, her throat—just where her robe left her skin bare. His soft lips brushed her temple. Her cheek. Her ear. Little shivers shimmered down her body and pooled, thrumming, in the swelling heat of her sex. Then he kissed, his warm lips touching hers. Soft. Waiting. Again.
His kiss. She wanted to sink into the sweet heat of his mouth, but every pulse of her wet cunt against the hard stem of her cock worried her.
“Just...” she halted.
His golden gaze was so warm, so kind. “Tell me, Lena.”
“I...” she tried again. “You might not...” She was being so ridiculous. Her fear broke over a helpless laugh. “I have a surprise. And it's alright, if you don't like it.”
“Yes?” he purred, smiling.
She took his hand, noticing he was already half hard. Her heart seized as she pressed his palm to the silk of her robe where it veiled her acrylic erection.
He sighed. Nearly groaned. She watched as he curved his fingers around her shaft and gently, slowly slid the white silk up. Then down.
“Lena.” It was a low growl.
Their foreheads tipped together, the both looked down as he parted the skirt of her robe, revealing her translucent prick.
“C'est jolie, Lena,” he breathed. “Like a ghost. An impression of a cock.” He opened the skirt wider, exposing her naked hips. “No...le mot? No straps?” He paused. “So, it is inside you?” he sighed, finally.
Victor's cock had risen up beside hers. Almost touching.
“And when I touch, like this...” he curved two fingers behind the swell of acrylic at the end of her cock, and gave two gentle little tugs, rocking the orb up inside of her, “you feel this touch?”
“Yes,” she breathed, the sight of him doing that magnifying the rousing sensation.
He half sighed, half laughed, leaning into her, his warm breath moist on her cheek. “And this,” he ran the pads of those two fingers along the length of her shaft, “it excites you?”
“Yes.”
“And,” he he breathed, his golden eyes sparking in a way she'd never seen before, “you want to fuck me with this cock of yours?”
“Yes.”
Victor came on, sinking into her kiss with a fervent heat that was new, to her. A surge of need swept away her anxiety. She forgot everything except Victor's hungry kiss, the heat and the faint quivering of his naked body against her, the delicious slickness of her cunt as it pulsed around the hardness inside her.
They surfaced from that deep, urgent kiss. Gentle, now, Victor took her lips in soft little kisses, delicately danced his tongue against hers. Then he slipped away. Looked at her a moment. Came back with another soft, sweet kiss.
His hands converged on the loose knot at her waist, his long, delicate fingers untying the cord. She tried to meet his gaze with a smile. The knot undone, he held her gaze as he slid the silk from her shoulders and her robe slipped to the floor.
With delicate fingertips he traced over her. His touch glided down, traversing her breasts, faintly tickling her belly, touching along her jutting cock, almost invisible in the fading light. His eyes followed his hand over her body, then turned up to meet her gaze.
“You're magnificent, Lena.” His gaze was tender. His voice was frayed with emotion. And it didn't hurt his credibility that his cock was still flushed and hard. “Tu sais bien, Lena, que je t'aime, mais tu dois savoir, aussi, que tu es belle. Absolument magnifique.” Nothing in her doubted him.
On the bed they kissed and touched. Victor was like a whole world she'd slipped into. His skin, warm, smooth, taut over his lean muscles, his long frame, was like velvet under her lips, the scent of him filling her lungs and urging her on, his salt tang on her tongue as she tasted him, the smooth plane of his belly under her lips, her tongue, his nipples, full and dark, going hard as she grazed them with her teeth, worried them with the tip of her tongue. The rich musk of his cock, hard and straining for her kiss. His breaths, his sighs. His warm gaze.
That tugging ache low in her belly had her almost whining. But her want was bigger than that. Victor. She needed more of him.
“What?” he grinned. He'd caught her smiling.
“The last week or so,” she said, still teasing his cock with her fingertips, “I've been like a cat in heat. As you noticed.”
“Yes.”
“But it was just hormones. My body. My cunt.” She laughed. “I feel like the rest of me just caught up. I want you with everything in me. I want you so badly, there's not room for anything else. It feels so good.”
Victor smiled and kissed her eyes and when he kissed her lips she tasted her tears.
“But I didn't think I'd be so nervous. Ever done it with a virgin before?”
“No.” He kissed the corner of her smile. Kissed her wet lashes. “You will be my first.”
Lena slipped down, kissed and nibbled the lean flesh of Victor's inner thigh, taunted his cock with her tongue as she slipped one lubed-up fingertip between his cheeks and teased his asshole. Petting his balls, stroking his cock, she slid her finger inside him as he gazed down on her from under his dark fringe of lashes, his belly rising and falling with rapid little breaths. Her cunt pulsing insistently around the base of her cock, she loaded up two fingers with more lube and worked them into the hot grip of his body, pumping into him, opening him.
“Lena,”he said, his voice gentle but threaded with urgency, “please.”
She pulled her fingers from the clinging grip of his body, and watched Victor slick her cock with lube, the sensuous movements of his graceful fingers along the length of her cock reverberating through her sex. Kneeling between his thighs, she touched the tip of her cock to his dark clench, pressing gently until the grip of him held her firmly in place. She leaned over him. Sank into a slow, wet kiss. Their mouths parted, their eyes locked, and she went into him with a slow push of her hips.
Something disturbed the tranquility of those golden eyes.
“Am I hurting you?”
He smiled. “No. No, Lena.”
He curved a hand at the back of her neck and pulled her in for a deep kiss, stirring up her tender affection, together with a fierce need. God, she was shaking. She planted her hands and tried working her hips between Victor's thighs, keeping her movements shallow, conservative, because she was afraid of slipping out of him, afraid of wrenching out the egg rooting the cock inside of her.
It was easier when she went up on her knees. She could watch the thick shaft of her cock emerge as she swiveled her hips back, and watch it sink into him again when she pulsed forward. Little by little it got easier. She stopped fretting about doing it right as sensation and instinct took over.
When she ran her nails up the inside of Victor's thighs his abs flexed as he caught his breath. Joy rose up in her, big and buoying. She watched as Victor's expression reflected her smile.
More and more the acrylic cock felt like her own. Part of her body. Each little pulse of her hips charged her sex with a surge of pleasure, the hard swell of the egg rubbing and bumping inside of her, her wet, swollen folds grinding and sliding over the stem curving between that ovoid root and the hard shaft she was pumping into Victor's ass.
Victor's golden eyes flickered over her, watching her face, the pulse of her hips, the flex and sway of her body. She wanted him to look. Felt wanted and strong under his gaze. He smiled again, then gasped and furrowed his brow as she traced the silhouette of his cock against his lean belly with the pad of her index finger. When she curved her fingers around the hard girth of his shaft he groaned a little, his eyes flashing between her face and her hand as she caressed him.
The warm weight of him in her hand, the delicate velvet of his skin shifting over his rigid length as she stroked him, fed her want. Fascinated, she watched the bead of nectar swelling at the tip of his cock, then painted it over the plump dome. All along, she worked her hips between his thighs, watching how his lips parted, how his belly quivered, how the light flared behind his eyes.
She squeezed a fat dollop of lube into her palm, eager to watch the pleasure rippling through Victor's expression, through his body. But he caught her wrist.
“Already I am too close,” he warned, his voice uneven. “Please, don't let me finish before you're ready.”
“Alright,” she promised, somehow touched by how vulnerable Victor sounded, just then.
She brought the little puddle of lube in her palm between his cock and belly, and lifted her hand until the tip of his cock dipped into the gelatinous pool. Victor gasped and his hips bucked under her, jolting her with a deep, prodding pressure that brought ripples of pleasure behind it. Slowly, she slid her hand down the length of his erection, then up, just as slowly, then down the underside this time, glossing his cock.
Every slow stroke of her grip up the length of his hard-on, every pulsing squeeze and swirl of her hand over the full, flushed head provoked a startled gasp, a quiver in that taut, umber belly, a flicker in those golden irids. Lena listened to every sigh, watched every twitch of every muscle in Victor's face, enjoying keeping him at the edge, careful of letting him slip over.
And all the time she was fucking him, pumping her cock in and out of his ass, every little movement stirring her nerves, swelling her pleasure bigger, heavier. But there was no struggle. Her pleasure was like a rolling sea, and she was swimming for the joy of it, without a destination.
But a moment later she was slipping under, her pleasure swallowing her. Whimpering, rocking her hips in little desperate movements, she let go, her cunt spasming around the prodding hardness buried deep inside her, wave after wave of pleasure rippling through her.
She focused her gaze on Victor as she came back to herself, and the look on his face made her face got hot.
“My god,” he sighed, “you are so gorgeous to watch. Fucking and coming and blushing.”
Lena sank onto here hands to kiss him, to feel the heat and strength of his body against hers, to feel his arms holding her to him. After a long, deep kiss, after catching her breath and feeling her strength coming back she gave him an eager smile.
“What do you want, Victor? My mouth? Or do you want to fuck me?”
Still holding her, almost clinging to her, he answered in a frayed voice, “Please, if you still have strength, fuck me and caress me, as you were. I want to finish like this, with you inside me.”
His words, the way he looked at her as he said them roused her sated sex all over again. Fuck yes.
She kissed him again, deep and wanting, like all of him could never be enough, and pulsed her hips a little, her breath hitching at how bare, how raw all her nerves felt after her orgasm. Staying with him, right there in his heat, where their lips could touch, she worked her hand between them, sheathed his cock in her grip.
Now, as she pumped her cock into him in a gentle rhythm, every pulse of her hips drove her hand up and down his cock. She kissed his lips, breathed his sighs. Gazed into Victor's eyes, warming and pulling her to him like two fiery suns. Her own need was creeping up on her again as she fucked him, keeping her grip tight for a few slow, deep thrusts, then softening the touch of her hand as it slid over the length of him, feeling him twitch and shudder under her as she swirled her hand around the swollen head.
Victor's fingers curved to the back of her head, keeping her close, and he took her kiss, sucking at her tongue, biting her lip, then releasing her mouth and holding her gaze with his. Every breath was a groan, now, staccato little pants, then a long gasp for air, then around again.
He was right there, and her own nerves were ratcheting up for another climax. She humped needfully, tiny little urgent thrusts, begging for it, going after it, pulsing her grip up and down the length of Victor's cock, incredibly hard now. Yes, there, fuck, yes, she twitched into him, groaning her climax through clenched teeth, riding it out, her cunt spasming as Victor's mouth opened in a low growl and his hips flexed up to meet hers and a wet heat seeped between them, thick and slick against her belly, her chest, on her hand.
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I am sure I support you.
