Tattooed Sweetheart

Was I?

Am I? God, yes. I’ve never been more ready for something than I am this moment.

“Yes. I’m ready, Malkolm.”

He nodded once, as if reassuring himself I was actually ready, and then he positioned the thick, bulbous head of his cock right at my pussy hole. I could feel that piercing, the coolness of it heating from my body, the smoothness of the metal enticing me, arousing me more.

With the crown of his erection nudging at the entrance of my pussy, I felt my body tense.

“Just relax for me. It’ll make it easier, better.”

I nodded then and breathed out, forcing myself to relax. And that’s when he started pushing in, as the air left my lungs and my body wasn’t as tense.

I knew there was no going back from this.

And thank God for that. I wouldn't want this to be any other way. I wouldn't want to go back from this.

“I’ll try to be gentle,” he said again, as if reminding himself that this was, in fact, my very first time. He continued to push his length deep into me, claiming my virginity—the one I saved just for him without even realizing it.

“I’ve been dreaming about you like this, fantasizing all the things I would do to you, how I’d make love to you. And God,” he said on an exhale. “Now, it’s my reality.” He buried all of his cock into me, and I gasped at the fullness, the feeling of being stretched, of being penetrated completely.

“Still doing good?”

I licked my lips and nodded again. “Yes. I’m fine. Don't stop.”

He started to pull out, then pushed back in just as slowly as the first time. “Jesus, you’re tight.” He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. The pain of being stretched by his size had my eyes watering, but that discomfort morphed into pleasure with each passing second, with each moment I allowed myself to relax, forced myself not to be tense.

I cried out as everything crashed in on me.

“I’m sorry,” he gritted out. “I’m trying to be easy, take my time… make this good for you.”

“It’s good,” I moaned. “Don’t stop. It’s so good.”

His balls were pressed right up against my slick flesh, and I bit my lip hard enough I tasted blood.

“Fuck.” That lone word left him in a snarling, feral tone. “Christ. I’m going to fuck you so thoroughly, so deeply, that you’ll know you’re mine. You’ll be imprinted by me.” Beads of sweat covered my flesh as the heat in the room increased, as our movements became one, in tandem.

My inner muscles squeezed his cock on their own.

“Yes,” he hissed out. “That’s it. Fuck, that’s so it.”

The faster and harder he thrust into me, the higher my pleasure climbed until it was on the precipice of claiming me completely, until I knew there would be no stopping it once I went over the edge. I held my breath as he leaned in and ran his tongue along my lips at the same time he touched the little bundle of nerves at the top of my pussy. He rubbed my clit back and forth, and I couldn’t hold off from letting it consume me.

“Yes,” he hissed. “Come all over my cock. Come on, baby.”

I tossed my head back and cried out, giving Malkolm what he demanded… needing it like I needed oxygen.

The only thing I saw, felt, smelled… was Malkolm. He consumed every single one of my senses.

Beads of sweat lined his forehead, trailed down his temple, and moved along his chest. I followed the dips and hollows, the ridges and hills of all that tattooed muscle that made up Malkolm. I wanted to lick his flesh, taste that male saltiness moving along my tongue. I wanted to take a piece of him in me, like I was giving him a piece of myself.

“Is it good?” The way he said those words was almost like a challenge, like he wanted to see if I’d lie to him, wanted to push me to be honest.

I held on to his biceps and licked my lips, my entire body strung tight. “It’s so good, Malkolm. More.”

Malkolm grunted and slammed into me faster, harder. My mouth parted, my lips making a soundless O, and all I could do was let the sensations that were so foreign in me mark me from the inside out.

I felt my pussy clench around his cock, as if my body tried to pull him in even more, refusing to let this pleasure leave. Because he was the source of it.

“So. Fucking. Perfect,” he groaned and slammed into me again and again.

And just like that, I felt myself fall over the edge at the same time he pulled back slightly and placed his hands on my inner thighs, his fingers framing my pussy. He kept thrusting in and out of me, his focus on where he was buried deep. My orgasm peaked, and he pushed my legs up and back so they were resting on my chest. It made me obscenely open, but the new position had him going in even deeper.