Ruined

His fingers have me agitated nice and good, and I feel my hold on propriety slipping. I can't believe I'm letting this happen.

"The patio doors are open. They'll be able to hear."

"What will they hear? Your moans of pleasure? Or are you worried you might scream?"

"All of the above."

He yanks down my sweats and tears my underwear. Before I can ask him anything, my underwear is stuffed into my mouth. I try to take out my underwear, but my wrists are whipped behind my back. This is horrifying. My cum is on my underwear, which is now in my mouth, where it should never be. I think I taste myself.

I feel his hardness through his jeans against my ass. He holds my wrists in place with one hand while his other goes back to fondling me between my thighs. Trapped between him and the table, I feel utterly helpless. I pray that Eric and Sierra stay outside. If they walked in, this would be more than a little humiliating.

"I'm sure they're busy," Tony says.

He's right. I can hear the occasional murmur and grunt from Sierra. Maybe the best way out of my predicament is to get it over with as soon as possible.

No complaints here, my libido says.

I'm gushing between the legs, desire straining for that euphoric end. I’m close. Really close.

But he pulls his hand away. I hear him unzipping and the tearing of foil. After some jostling, his length is between my thighs, gliding along my pussy lips. A little more of that and I’ll come. Right against the table. With a wad of cotton underwear stuffed in my mouth.

He slides himself into my slit. I close my eyes and block out Eric and Sierra not twenty feet from us. At least they can’t see us from where they are.

My pussy flexes about him. I wonder if he will always feel this hard inside of me, or will my vagina get used to him if he keeps stretching me like this? I emit a shaky groan into my underwear as he slowly begins to thrust. Ardor presses into me, concentrating between my legs, ready to flower. He intensifies the sensation with every withdrawal and every plunge. His motions are long, measured, angled just right. I want to come so badly. Please make me come.

I cry out and quiver as rapture blooms and ripples through me. That I’m pressed against a hard surface, the edge of the table digging into me, my sweats around my knees, does nothing to diminish the beautiful, marvelous bliss that engulfs me.

He sweeps my hair into a ponytail in his free hand and tugs. Hard. I yelp and consider spitting out my underwear, but I need it. He releases my wrists and pulls my hair back while simultaneously shoving himself deep into my pussy. Now his rhythm is fast, his motions short but deep. I brace myself against the surface of the table, trying to push back against him so I don’t end up becoming one with the table. If he pounds me any harder, I might break a bone against the snooker table.

The underwear helps to muffle my grunts and cries. The fucking is jarring, and my scalp starts to burn. I realize I won’t be able to speak my safety word. Not that I can remember it.

He slows down. Thank God. I grasp the opportunity to take a normal breath. His pace is now more than bearable, and I find my arousal simmering anew. Still holding my hair in one hand, he reaches his other hand around to grope a breast. This gentler fondling is an exciting relief to the ferocity from a moment ago. Adrenaline is pumping through me, magnifying every sensation. I collect myself just in time. He grinds himself deeper into me,

I wonder if he’s come because he pulls out of me, but I realize he hasn’t when he flips me onto my back. He sinks back in and pulls my wrists above my head, pinning them to the table. He bucks his hips gradually as his gaze locks with mine. Despite the awkward position with my legs dangling over the table, my feet unable to touch the floor, I start to crave another orgasm.

How do you do this to me? I ask through my eyes.

I’m such a mess. My body still feels worn from his earlier fucking, but arousal still rises. The stroking of his cock inside me is exhilarating. I want that high again, and I’ll suffer anything to achieve it. If he wants to pound me into a pulp, I’ll take it if he can make me feel this good.

Yes, this good. So good. I’m gonna come again.

“Ask permission first,” he warns me.

My underwear garbles my words, but surely he knows what I’m trying to say.

“Pardon. Say again?” he replies with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

I try again but it comes out, “A ah unh, er?”

He continues his tantalizing thrusting, his pelvis pressing into my clit when he penetrates extra deep.

Please. “EEEase.”

Worrying that my body can’t hold out much longer, I start to beg through my eyes. He seems to note my desperation and says, “You’ve earned it. Come.”

A few more thrusts from him, and I convulse, my back arching off the table. He pumps into me harder and faster till rapture overtakes him, too. After my orgasm subsides, I savor the feel of his body over mine, the pulsing of his cock inside me.

Until I turn my head and see Eric standing at the threshold.