As my body stretches, I want more. As if sensing this need, he inserts another finger. This keeps going until he has three fingers inside of my ass and is pounding them inside of me. My pussy pumps out enough lubricant to keep everything moist and slick so there’s never any uncomfortable friction, just a wonderful, full feeling.
Suddenly his fingers are out of me and I feel this lonely empty feeling. He scrambles to the chair where he chucked his jeans, retrieving a condom and a small tube hastily, and returning to me on the bed.
He rolls me onto my side so we’re spooning with him behind me. He lifts my leg to that my high-heeled foot is in the air. “I need to be inside you,” he insists, rolling the condom down his length and then entering my pussy from behind.
He pushes in until his balls are pinned tight against my butt. Keeping still, he allows my body to adjust to his length before starting to slide in and out of me. I feel swollen inside, my sheath clamping down around him, trying to hold him in my depths each time he pulls out.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he says breathlessly in my ear. “Are you ready for me?”
There’s a tinge of fear in my gut. He’s so big. It’s one thing to have fingers inside of me, but it’s another to have a massive cock. This is uncharted territory. What if it hurts? What if the pain of it kills the entire mood?
“I’ll be gentle,” he says, reading my body language as I tense up. I hear the pop of the tube’s cap. “This will help. Just relax.”
I let out a long, slow breath and become just a puddle of skin and bone in his arms.
“Good girl,” he says with a smile in his voice.
He spreads my butt cheeks apart with one hand and guides the slick head of his dick to my back entrance with the other.
I close my eyes and breathe slowly, in through my nose and out my mouth, steady, relaxed.
The initial shock of his bulbous head sliding in makes me tense up without meaning to, and there’s a sudden spear of pain.
“Relax,” he reminds me.
I allow myself to loosen up and continue to breathe. He stays still to allow my body to get used to this new intruder, then starts to inch his way into me. The lube helps, but it’s a slow, daunting process. The moans coming from me are louder than they’ve ever been. It’s uncomfortable at first, this new sensation of this taboo place being filled. But as his slippery pole starts to move, lubricating this uncharted tunnel, discomfort quickly becomes pleasure and pressure and a new sense of wonder. It’s sexy and it’s dirty, and so very hot. When I’ve adjusted to his size and my body is completely loosened up, I rock back into him.
“More,” I say.
He chuckles, a deep, throaty sound and says, “I knew you’d like it.”
He pushes all the way into me, and my breath hitches. He starts to fuck me now, hard and fast. I’m crying, screaming, begging him not to stop. As if I weigh nothing at all, he flips me onto my stomach, pounding me viciously into the mattress.
“Oh fuck!” I scream, but my face buried in the pillow muffles the sound.
“That tight ass is all mine,” he says, claiming me for his own. I am his. I know this now. I will always be his.
My pussy is completely untouched and yet I feel that familiar sensation knotting up somewhere deep in the depths of my core. Like a starving lion broken free from its cage, my orgasm comes barreling toward me, claws out, roaring. The room fills with the high-pitched sounds of my release.
Heath pumps two, three more time into me, and makes his own furious growl as he comes vigourously.
He pulls out and collapses beside me. The room swells with the smell of sex, the most beautiful perfume in the world. He brushes the sweaty hair from my face and asks, “What did you think?”
I laugh, unable to describe the powerful, lusty perfection of it all. “Incredible,” is the only word I can think of right now to describe it.
He smiles and kisses me. I can’t believe this is going to be my life. What once had been a barren, pleasure-less, orgasm free existence, has transformed into something I thought only happened in dreams and fantasies.
After Heath drops me off at my apartment, I take a shower, the hot water relaxing my sore muscles. I’m still going over the best sex of my life, play by play, reliving each and every wonderful moment.
Once I’m out of the shower, I roll my hair up in a towel, put on a robe and go back to my room. My computer makes a sound. It’s an alert letting me know there’s activity on my feed and that I’ve been tagged in it. After what happened with that woman from the bar, my stomach clenches at the sound. As much as I want to ignore it, I force myself to open my Twitter app.
When I scroll to the top of my screen, I see a tweet from Heath, an announcement to all his followers.
Heath-O-Maker James: Sorry ladies, but the O-Maker is off the market. For good, I hope.
He has me tagged in the post so there’s no mistaking who he’s talking about this time. My smile claims my entire face.
I happily respond to his post: Because of the O-Maker, I am the No-O no longer.
THE END