Not giving her time to adapt to his hard cock, he pulled out, groaning at the exquisite tightness of her vaginal walls, clenching itself on his cock as he dragged himself away, until the tip rested on her wet entrance, then—he forced himself back in, riding up her tender walls with desperate intensity. His feet firmly planted on the ground, he determinedly worked his hips into a frenzied motion of torturous thrusts—pushing his tight ass from the seat to stab his hungry cock into her, to meet her cunt in delicious, mind-blowing crushes—thrusting deeply into her again—and again.
His bruising grip on her hips forced her trembling, fragile body to concede to the brutal rhythm of his relentless pumping, to surrender all of her to the cruel fucking he subjugated upon her. It went on and on. Leslie's moans and whimpers of pain only persuaded him and encouraged him to continue driving them both mad in the throes of their—commanded by him—animalistic passion. He was so lost in her—together, moaning and grunting in their conjoined world—lost in a place of intoxicating ecstasy, that he was no longer capable of rational thought or empathy—fuck all those things to hell—all he wanted to do was to pound himself into her, deeply and deeply more, deeper than even that deep—as deep as he could go with her. And do it all over again.
He fucked her hard—fast, furious, urgent, possessive. Every motion was like a blurry, steamy performance. He held her jealously close to him, feeling her soft breasts licking his chest up and down, feeling her feverish, quivering body against him. As he pumped savagely and endlessly into her, he crushed his lips against hers, capturing all her pants and moans, turning them into something that's part of him. He wanted her to know how delirious she made him feel—what he could be like when he held her in his arms. As the fucking increased in its frenetic speed and intensity, he could feel her nearing the heights of great pleasure, could feel the flame inside her preparing to explode—as much as his was.
And he wanted to be there with her, to feel the quake of their heart-pumping union. He pulled her body even tighter against him, his arm wrapped across her smooth ass cheeks. He used his other free hand to dip into the point where their wet bodies met, to rub and stroke her weeping cunt of hot honey at her sensitive clitoris—Leslie moaned into his mouth at this invasion—before taking the wet finger out and bringing it to her back. She gasped as he pushed a finger into her tight little hole, and whimpering, tried to run away from it, but she was trapped, snugly imprisoned between his obsessive cock, his arm, and his insistent finger. She was locked in his demanding embrace. He touched her nub, driving her into melodious gasps, and imitated the crude fucking of his cock—up and down, up and down, up and down, breathlessly, repeatedly—together.
Finally, unable to hold back any longer, Leslie's body exploded into fierce ecstasy; her head rolled back, her face concentrated and intent, her shaking body arching, her thighs clamping tightly and tremblingly around his—he could feel her contracting powerfully, rocking him, mesmerizing him. Soon, he joined her, groaning along to the sounds of her cries, his body jerking inside her heavenly body. "Yes yes yes!" he roared triumphantly, digging his fingers into Leslie's ass cheeks. He threw his head back, eyes closed, as hot jets of cum spurted aggressively into her womb. "Ungh!" –they crashed together.
They were both breathing very hard right now. Leslie rested her flushed face on his broad chest. Her whole body was vulnerably sensitive; her heart was still going berserk inside of her, unused to this foreign excitement, and her eyes were glazed from the overwhelming sensation that had just overtaken her with its extraordinary madness. She had never experienced emotions so raw—was it supposed to be so...exposing? She felt as if not only her body had been wrenched away from her, but also her soul—it had been stripped away to a bareness that frightened her.
The captain enveloped her in a fierce hug, his arms touching every part of her that he could embrace, and peppering the back of her upper body with tender, butterfly kisses. He was still inside of her. It filled Leslie with anguish. It reminded her of how he had abused her body, imprinting himself upon her forcefully. It drowned Leslie with a sense of lack of control that it drove her almost insane.
Leslie wept silently, her eyes becoming blank orbs of ice. "You...brute," she said, in a quiet, hoarse voice. "Are you satisfied now? Are you done? Do you wish to take more from me?" she demanded in intensifying passion, though her voice was broken and spent. He hugged her harder, burying his face into her thick hair. "You're mine," was all he could say, uselessly, callously; he only wanted her to know that. Leslie laughed bitterly, "Of course I am. I'm yours to...to bed whenever you desire."
'I love you," he whispered, kissing her butter-colored head. He worshipped her. He was sincere. "Of course you are. You're in...love...with the idea of...possessing my body...but—" she pushed her head weakly to gaze at him, "You'll never have my heart. Never. And as far as I'm concerned," she reached up to his ear to whisper, "if you can't master it, I will...will...never...be yours."
Leslie closed her eyes and dropped her head onto his shoulder, finally won over by fatigue and overexertion. The captain tentatively caressed her hair, knowing he would try very hard to win her heart after this; he may have possessed her body, but it was only a vassal for the deep, sensitive soul inside. And he wanted the soul as intensely as he desired her body. He vowed to have both.
Slowly he got up, ignoring his thigh, though it was bleeding profusely, and gently carried Leslie's small body towards the bed situated on the other side of the room connected to his study, this room. He placed her on his big bed with as much sensitivity as the most loving mate would have given to his beloved, cherished partner, and draped the bed sheet over her.
He pushed a few strands of damp hair from her rosy face, and kissed her forehead; the touch of his lips on her was brief, almost didn't brush against her skin—he was afraid he would break her. Because, when he looked at her, fragile and delicate like a lovely flower trying its hardest to blossom in a wild, unwelcoming environment, enormous remorse stormed his whole body—and he felt like a brute for violating her. He wanted to protect her, love her—not hurt her.
"Forgive me, precious," were his last words before he left his sweet little princess to a long, restful slumber.
The End.
Please
He was not much taller than I was with beautiful brown eyes and black hair. He had a presence about him that would make people stop. He was strong, powerful even, but he was not in any way a mean man. On the contrary, when you had him in your corner you just knew things would be all right in the end. I had gotten to know him almost a year ago and we had become friends even when I felt his was way out of my league, even as a friend.
He always flirted with me, but I was always too scared to flirt back or even believe it was real. I couldn't believe a man like him would want me. I tried to deny his attraction towards me, but I could no longer mistake the hunger in his eyes when he looked at me.
He always watched me move, like a hunter marking his prey. His gaze was predatory and that scared me, but I couldn't stop thinking about him. He was all male and I had never met anyone like him before.
He enthralled me, but the aura of danger that seemed to surround him made me nervous. I always fumbled and blushed when he was around, hoping he didn't notice me messing up. He always did though, and his smile was ever-present. He knew why I kept fumbling in his presence.
Lately, it had been increasingly hard for me to keep my fantasies in the bedroom, where I would lie and think of him while I was touching myself. I would come hard, calling out his name. The thought of him had been teasing me for months and had finally started to consume me.
One night, I was playing with myself and fantasizing about him once again. Thinking about him always gave me a feeling of falling. No, it was more than that. It was like I was desperate to fall, to keep falling and falling. It was a feeling that made my knees weak and something I couldn't describe build up inside me. I was starting to feel like I couldn't be without him anymore; my n
eed for him was overriding my fears for the first time.
I wanted him to take over, to let me have it. I wanted him to push me to my limits, to use me, to take me. I needed him to leave me with marks I could look at later and think about him, about what went on. I wanted to be weak and, for the first time, let him see it without me being too embarrassed to admit it. I would be anything he asked me to be, do anything he asked of me. I needed him and the mere thought of him was not enough anymore. Not when the thought alone was almost enough to make me come. I could not stand it anymore and I needed to let him know.
I didn't care what he thought of my fumbling anymore, I needed things to change. I needed to finally ask him. No, not ask. I needed to beg. I needed to beg for him to fuck me, to take me, to kiss me, to touch me. "Damn. Is this what being in heat is like?" I wondered, confused but determined to at least try.
"I can't stand another second without him."
I didn't have the courage to call him; I didn't trust my voice anymore. So I sent him a text message, which read, 'I can't do this anymore. I can't play this game. Finish it and come and take me. No more playing around. Please.' I started to shake as soon as my finger hit the send button.
Within two minutes the answer arrived. 'Where are you? Are you at home? I'm coming over.'
It felt like time stopped when I read his reply. The 20 minutes it took for him to arrive were the longest of my life.
Then again, I always found ways to occupy myself when I was waiting for him to come over and this time was no different. I sometimes wondered if he had any idea of how I had been touching myself and moaning his name just minutes before he came in, or if he could smell what I had just done in the air.
After the longest while I heard a knock on the door. I rushed to open it, I knew how he hated to be kept waiting. I felt the cold air from outside rush to meet me, sobering my thoughts for a second. I let him in and suddenly I couldn't look him in the eye anymore. I was frozen to the spot, afraid to touch him. Just one word slipped through my lips, so quietly I could only hope he had heard it. "Please."
He understood. The very second the word had passed from my lips, the door slammed shut and I was being pushed against the wall, his hands holding my wrists above my head. Everything was spinning as he pressed against me and his freezing cold jacket burned my skin.
All the power I thought had this past few weeks left me. I could no longer fight this. I surrendered. His mouth was on mine, his tongue in my mouth, demanding, his lips swallowing my moans and my pleas. I kept repeating one word even if it was lost in the midst of everything else. "Please."
My knees started to weaken and if he hadn't been holding me, I wouldn't have been able to keep myself upright, not even with the wall at my back. His hot breath caressed my neck as he whispered, "I've been waiting for you to be ready."
He let go of my hands and they fell against my sides; I had nothing left in me to hold them up, no strength to do anything else but feel. His hands were strong, like they were made of steel, and all over my body, touching me everywhere. They were in my hair, pulling it to give him better access to my neck. His hands were on my breasts, squeezing and kneading them. They were grabbing my ass, touching my face, making my back arch under his touch.
His fingers zeroed in under my skirt. I had chosen it specifically for this. He had once commented on it being a bit too slutty to wear in public, but he had seemed to like it anyway.
"Are you wet, baby? Are you wet for me already?" he asked.
I could only moan in response. I felt his movements, his fingers creeping up my thighs, closer to the heat. I knew he would soon feel how wet I was for him. I know I should have been embarrassed, but I wanted him to feel what he did to me. I needed him to touch me, to touch my pussy.
I spread my legs a little wider to give him better access. His fingers stopped just over my panties and I was sure he could feel the heat I radiated. He didn't go any further than that and I wanted to cry. I was so frustrated. I needed him to take me right then and there. "Please," I begged.
Suddenly he lifted me into his arms and carried me to the bedroom. He knew his way around my place, having been there so many times before. He kicked the door open and threw me roughly onto my bed.
"Stay still," he commanded. "Watch me."
He looked me straight in the eyes and started taking his clothes off. His leather jacket fell to the floor. Then he slowly unbuttoned his shirt and with every button that came undone, I could feel the same thing happening to me. I was getting wetter by the moment.
I felt my urgency for him in my fingers; I so wanted to touch him. I felt it in my mouth, the need to kiss him, to taste him, to shout his name, to beg him. I felt it in the pit of my stomach. Lastly, I felt my pussy starting to ache with a need I knew only he could satisfy.
His shirt was on the floor and he began unbuckling his belt. I wanted to feel that leather on my skin. I wanted him to tie me up with it someday. I wanted him so much; I needed him to own me.
The rest of his clothes soon followed and he was standing before me naked and hard.
"Do you like what you see, baby girl? See what you have been missing out on?" he asked.
I held my breath and I couldn't stop looking at him. He exuded raw power and an untamed wildness. He was beautiful and strong.
He leant over and grabbed my shirt, ripping it in half. The buttons went flying everywhere and I started to shake with my need for him. In an almost violent frenzy, he got rid of the rest of my clothes. My skirt and underwear were gone before I even noticed. In no time at all, I was naked before him, like I had dreamt of being since the day I had met him. His eyes were all over me.
"Please," I begged. I couldn't stand another second without him inside of me. "Please."
The tension in the air was almost unbearable. I didn't want him to stop. I didn't want to let it end now that I had come so close. I was frustrated and nervous, but I didn't want to wait anymore.
Then, suddenly, his hard mouth was on mine, his body on top of me. Our tongues met and I got lost in the sensations of him kissing me. I started to touch him everywhere. I needed to feel his body, to feel his strength over me. I needed to run my nails over his back. I needed to draw him even closer to me. I wanted to feel his full weight on me. I needed to feel that this was real, that he was there, and that this was not another one of my fantasies that would leave me feeling empty the next morning. No more cheap substitutes, I could not handle them anymore.
He was on top of me and I felt his hardness pressing against me. It was hot and as hard as steel. I arched my back and wrapped my legs around him, trying to bring him closer to me so that I could feel every inch of him and all of his strength.
Without any warning, he drove his cock into me. He didn't hesitate, but I knew he wouldn't. There would be no more games and no more delay. I could only moan in response.
He started pounding into me while whispering in my ear, "That's it, baby. You wanted this. You wanted me. Now you're having me, all of me. No compromises. Beg me, baby. Beg me to let you come. Beg me."
I could feel myself shaking as I pleaded and chanted his name. "Please. Please, yes. Please. Please!"
I felt waves of heat rolling over me, engulfing me, demanding my surrender. My back arched and my hands grabbed the sheets, grabbed him and anything else I could reach.
I shouted his name when I came, my pussy quivering around his hard member. He didn't stop, instead he started to fuck me even harder. With each thrust, I fell further, moaning his name, pleading with him. Begging him. I couldn't stop, even when my voice started to become hoarse.
He bit my nipples, pulling them with his teeth and leaving his marks on me. His hands pushed me down on to the mattress, his grip becoming rougher and tighter the closer he got to his orgasm. His fingers gripping my shoulders felt like they were made of iron.
My head spun and I came again. I felt him join me with one final thrust. The pleasure was unbelievable. One wave after another hit me as m
y nails dug into his shoulders hard enough to draw blood. I had made my small mark on him too.
We both laid on the mattress struggling to breathe. "You are mine now," he whispered in my ear.
I don't know why I resisted for so long when surrender was this sweet.
The End.
Vacationers
Holly was on vacation by herself and while a lot of people worried about her being lonely, she didn't feel lonely at all. The only time she felt a tad out of place was in restaurants. She did not want to stare at other people as that was not polite so she usually brought a magazine or book with her.
That night, Holly was in a quiet restaurant, with only two other couples there. The hotel, in this middle of week night, was rather quiet. Midway through her meal, Holly felt stared at and realized that one of the other couples, Asians, were looking at her and saying things she could not understand. While they would look down every time she turned their way, she got the distinct impression they were talking about her.
When she was finished, Holly paid and then got up to leave. The Asian woman ran up to her and asked "May I speak to you?" Her English was not perfect yet with her separating every word, it was understandable.
"Sure"
"My husband, he really think you pretty."
"Thank you"
"My husband not speak English but I speak a little. May we have a private conversation?"
"Okay...."
Holly was wondering what this was all about but figured there was no harm in speaking to them. They made their way to a secluded area in the huge lobby of the hotel and Holly finally got a good look at both of them. The woman was petite to say the least. Her face indicated she was no young chick but the rest of her was so tiny, she could be mistaken for a teenager. The man was tall for an Asian and had a touch of grey beginning to appear on his temples. He was quite good looking and appealing. He said something to the woman in some Asian language that Holly had no clue about.
Climax Taboo Erotic Collection Page 14