She wasn’t sure. Suddenly, Ian was stroking her sore bottom tenderly and parting the cheeks. He penetrated her with his finger, and she sighed, her doubts lightening and flickering away like insubstantial moths. They were both silent for a taut moment while he slid his finger in and out of her ass, the caress intensely pleasurable, sacred because it was forbidden . . . and because it was Ian. Their silence continued while he prepared her to take his cock with his fingers—not just by penetrating her ass, but by using his other hand on her clit and pussy to mount her excitement.
“Ian, I’m going to come,” she said breathlessly a minute later as he rubbed between juicy labia and thrust two fingers into her ass.
“Come then,” he said hoarsely. “Let me feel your heat.”
She crunched her facial muscles tight at the peaking pleasure, whimpering as she came against his hand.
“That’s right,” she heard him say as she shuddered. He inserted a long finger into her pussy while continuing to press against her clit and plunge into her ass. “Oh yeah, I can feel you coming perfectly,” he rasped. He slid another finger into her ass and she cried out, a thread of pain ramping up her orgasm. “Shhh,” he soothed. “That’s right. Your ass is on fire. You’re so sweet,” he said, milking her climax for all it was worth.
When she finally collapsed against the wall, sated, he withdrew his fingers from her pussy and ass. She let him guide her into position so that she was bent at the waist again, her bottom in the air. She blinked her hair out of her eyes, listening to the sound of his clothing rustling. He was removing his pants. Her ass clenched tight in renewed excitement, sending a sympathetic twinge to her clit. With her head down, she could see when he moved behind her. She exhaled some pent-up tension when she felt his touch at her hip, reassuring and warm.
“I’m going to go slow since I didn’t have anything to prepare you,” he said, referring to the fact that he usually got her ready for anal sex by penetrating her with a plug first.
She nodded, her long hair rustling around her like a stirred curtain. She stared blindly at the baseboard, every ounce of her awareness pinned to the feeling of Ian’s cock pressing against her ass.
“You know what to do,” he said, his voice sounding strained. “Press back against it.”
She did, and there was that familiar stab of pain as the head of his cock slipped into her ass. As always, however, it was quickly gone. He remained still, waiting for her to recover. Then she pressed again, gasping, and he slid deeper, his stalk penetrating her. After they paused that time, and her pain had gone, he held her hips in his hands and began to gently pump. The lubrication eased things, but she could tell by his grunts of mixed arousal and concern that her ass muscles were clenching tightly around him, clamping his cock and resisting him.
Or was she resisting him?
Maybe even though she’d decided to give herself no matter what, part of her was still wary. Perhaps doubt still resided secretly in her mind and flesh. Anal sex had always been intensely arousing for her with Ian, the vulnerability required in the act amplifying the eroticism and excitement of sharing it with someone she trusted. She didn’t want doubt and fear to steal the moment from her.
She exhaled, willing her muscles to relax.
Ian flexed his hips and slid further into her with a rough groan. “God that’s good, Francesca,” he muttered. He hadn’t fully penetrated her yet, but he began to thrust, gently fucking her asshole. A jolt of arousal stabbed through her. She started to bob her bottom against his cock, but he gripped her tighter, his thumbs pressing into her buttocks.
“Hold still. I’ve got it,” he rasped.
She stared at the baseboard, trying to keep still and panting, while he sawed his cock back and forth, back and forth, building a careful fire in her flesh. He had to bend his knees slightly, because of their disparate heights, and she wondered if he was uncomfortable. By the time he fully sheathed his cock inside her and pulled her ass against him, his full testicles pressing against her cheeks, she was on the verge of igniting. For a moment, he just held her.
“I can feel you perfectly. You’re so hot,” he said. She clamped her eyes closed at the sound of his barely leashed restraint.
“I can feel you, too. You’re so . . . deep,” she said in a strangled voice, her entire focus on his cock throbbing in such a vulnerable place.
“I have to move.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
Still holding her hips and buttocks tight, he took a step forward with his right foot, so that his hard thigh pressed against her hip, his other leg remaining between her thighs. It brought down his height sufficiently. He began to fuck her with long, firm strokes. A helpless, aroused whimper leaked out of her throat.
“All right?” he asked her, even though he didn’t stop thrusting his hips, sinking his cock in and out of her.
“Yes,” she moaned emphatically. As always, it felt so good to give herself to him in this way, somehow both sublime and raunchy at once, riding the very edge of sharp eroticism. He began to fuck her harder, shifting his weight forward slightly on his front leg with each thrust, batting her bottom with his pelvis, the resulting whapping sound exciting her. His hips and ass found their rhythm, that stab and rolling motion he did so well that it made her eyes cross every time. She began to keen in pleasure, her ecstasy mounting as he began to ride her even harder, and the sounds of his satisfied grunts and groans struck her ears, twining with her cries.
“That’s right,” he growled. “Now you’re giving yourself. I can feel it.”