There's always an awkwardness after making love. It comes not just from the emotional exhaustion, but from the lovers realizing they've just shown who they are in the most intimate and affecting way, and now they're faced with that honesty and its consequences as they try and reassemble themselves and tie their masks back on, knowing that now their lover knows. Now their lover has seen. Now their lover has felt their truth, and what is one to say?
For Arianna it was tears, weeping in my arms as I held her. I didn't ask her what was wrong or why she was crying. I'd felt the force of her release, and her tears now were like the rain after a hurricane blows through: the cleansing rain that marks the storm's passing.
In time she stopped and lay there for a while against my chest, and as she recovered I could almost feel her shame and embarrassment coming over her, making her curl up on herself like a dried leaf. I relaxed my embrace and she extricated herself and sat up. She reached for a tissue from the night stand and dabbed her eyes and blew her nose.
"Oh my," she said. "David, I'm so embarrassed. I'm not normally like this. Really, I'm not. Normally I'm the exact opposite. It's just so strange."
I already had my own ideas on what was happening, but I thought it best that she work things out on her own. But meanwhile, her confusion and dismay were almost painful to see. The least I could do was give her an out.
"You've been under a lot of stress, Arianna. With Ethan, and the lawyers. That's got to have an effect on you."
She thought about that for a moment. "Yes. Yes, that's certainly true. I'm sure that's part of it."
I couldn't resist pressing her. "Then what's the other part?"
She was sitting on the side of the bed, facing the night stand, her breasts hidden from me, her knees pressed primly together. She looked at me over her shoulder.
"What you do to me. The way you make me feel."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know. No one's ever made me feel like that. I... I do have some experience. Ethan wasn't my first lover. There were others, but..."
My ego could only take so much stroking before I smiled. "But what?"
She shook her head in disbelief. "You must think I'm horrible. A perfect slut. But that's not it. I'm not. And you're not even my type. I like serious guys more my age who work out and have drive and ambition and— Oh! No, David, I don't mean—"
I laughed at her discomfiture. "You think too much, Anna. You worry too much."
She nodded. "I do. I know I do. But that's what's different about you. With you I don't think or worry. With you I just— I don't know what I do. "
"You feel," I said. "That's what it is. I don't let you do anything else. I make you keep still and feel."
She stared at me for a moment, considering this. "You think I'm a sub, don't you? You think I like being inferior—"
"I don't even want to hear that word, Arianna! I told you. it's just a stupid label."
"Which word? Sub? Or inferior?"
"Either of them. You're obsessed about it, about not being a submissive, and you're being silly. It doesn't matter. I can call you a sub. I can call you a bottom. I can call you a top or a dominatrix or a left-handed Zoroastrian Freemason. What does it matter? What matters is that you feel, and that I can touch those places that make you feel."
She stared at me a bit longer, then smiled. She swing her legs up on the bed and lay down and pressed herself against me, snuggling close and putting her head on my shoulder. She began playing idly with the hair on my chest.
"I've never been with a guy who didn't shave his body," she said. "But you have Just the right amount of hair. And it's salt and pepper, like your beard. Did you know that? I didn't know a man's chest hair got gray. It's kind of sexy."
I said nothing, just held he closer. She was facing my side, and now she raised her top leg and slid it over my thighs.
"Is it sick that your age turns me on?" she asked. "Does that mean I have some kind of Elektra thing going on, like secretly lusting for my father or something?"
"Thinking, Anna," I said. "You're thinking again, and worrying."
"What does it mean that your age turns me on? Why does that excite me?"
"It makes me different," I said. "It gives me authority. I'm not just another boyfriend, am I? I'm something else."
She thought about this for a bit, but I was growing fearful that if I let her keep talking and analyzing and going on, she'd talk herself into believing our relationship was some sort of aberration, dangerously deviant and somehow sick, and that she'd talk herself into leaving.
"Let me tell you a story, Arianna. An old Greek myth, about nymphs and satyrs. You know about nymphs and satyrs? The Greeks had myths to describe everything, and maybe this one will help you understand us.
"You know what nymphs are: gorgeous young female spirits that lived in enchanted woods and by sacred streams and springs, and wherever nature was especially beautiful and sacred. They were immortal but only semi-divine; not really goddesses, but more like spirits of places. People who study such things say the nymphs were symbols of nature's creativity and mystery and the power of life, and maybe so. But what's important is that the nymphs were all beautiful and ethereal, and virginal too, and that's where the trouble started.
"Because nymphs didn't feel any desire or urges or any of the more profane things that regular people did, they were incomplete. You know, being semi-divine and sacred is great, but most of us don't live in that world. We live in a world of desires and lust and needs and our own dirty little concerns, so people couldn't relate to the nymphs, and they couldn't relate to people. They could look on the world of regular humans but couldn't connect with it. They were too pure and heavenly. So in time the nymphs became terribly bored and frustrated and started to wither away. Without people to worship them and admire their beauty, they had no purpose. They longed for contact but they had no way to do it.
"Finally they went to Zeus for help, but Zeus didn't know what to do. No one knew what to do until Aphrodite came along. She saw what the problem was at once The nymphs needed men. Dirty, profane, sex-crazed men. Aphrodite blessed—or some say maybe cursed—the nymphs with desire. Then she created the perfect men for them.
"She created satyrs. You know satyrs, those little guys with horns and hairy goat legs, playing their pipes all day in the woods? Satyrs are male spirits who haunted the same places the nymphs did, but satyrs aren't so divine. Not by a long shot. Satyrs are very sexual, and sexual in the most extreme, horny, and obscene ways; ways that could make even the gods blush. She turned the satyrs loose on the nymphs, and the satyrs went to town. They started teaching the nymphs the pleasures of hot, randy sex, those dirty, almost degrading things that men like but that the heavenly nymphs would never have come up with in a million years. At first the nymphs were horrified, but soon enough they came around. The satyrs taught them to love those carnal pleasures, and the nymphs and satyrs have been happy with each other ever since."
Arianna laughed uncertainly. "That's very nice but I don't see what that has to do with us."
I rolled on my side and looked at her. "I'm the satyr to your nymph. You keep worrying about being submissive. You've got to stop thinking about it like that. I'm not ordering you. I'm teaching you. You're too pure to know what you really want, and so I'm teaching you. I'm teaching you the language of sex."
Before she could say anything, I pushed her over on her back and slid down her body, throwing the covers aside as I went. My mouth dragged over her breasts, which were already showing the yellowish bruises from my feverish hands, down her ribs and waist, over the flare of her hip to her pussy, still wet and leaking a mixture of our fluids.
Arianna lifted her head to watch me and moaned in alarm, closing her legs tight in disbelief at what I was about to do. But I intended to show her exactly what sort of perverse and salacious acts this satyr was capable of, so I took her ankles and levered her legs apart, slid between them and fastened my mouth over her like some deranged parasite and started to suck.
She cried out and reached down to push my face away from her shame, but I was set on my goal. Her pussy was slick and fragrant with our love and I used my tongue as a wedge to pry her apart and scoop up some of our mixed spendings and suck them into my mouth. As soon as I opened her a thick wad of semen slid from her hole and onto my tongue like a lazy white slug. I sucked that up too, and Arianna, who'd raised her head to watch what I was doing in utter disbelief, uttered a little growl of alarm and protest and tried again to close her legs on my obscene vaginal repast. I felt her shudder in a mixture of disgust and shameful arousal and she grabbed my hair with both hands and tried to push me away.
But I wasn't going to be denied. I was going to show her that there was nothing about her that was beyond my desire, nothing too lewd or obscene that I wouldn't do to her. I slid my hands under her ass and lifted her buttocks and held her against my face, sucking and licking and wallowing in her like a pig at a trough. I wanted her, and there was no way she was going to dissuade me.
As soon as I had enough of her discharge in my mouth, I clamped my lips shut and slid back up her body and lay down next to her, trapping her arm beneath me and grabbing her other arm and pressing it down so she was helpless beneath me. I leaned over her so my mouth was poised right above hers so she'd know exactly what I intended to do, but before I could spit it into her mouth she turned her face violently to the side in denial, causing me to release her wrist and grab her face instead and turn it back to me, squeezing her cheeks till her mouth opened.
She squirmed and squealed in protest, begging me not to do it, but I opened my mouth and extended my tongue to let the thick mixture of mixed splooge drizzle into her throat, and she was forced to swallow just to keep from choking. Her initial wail of alarm turned quickly into a deep and throaty sound of obscene and abject pleasure. I put my hand on her throat so I could feel her swallow and she did so avidly, again and again, a thick rush of goose bumps suddenly appearing on her shoulders and chest.
My load delivered, I pressed my mouth against hers and Arianna reached up and grabbed my hair to pull me deeper into that kiss, her tongue scurrying into my mouth as if searching for even more of that lascivious treat.
She released me and fell back, overcome. "Oh my God that's so dirty! So hot! Oh my God, David! You're crazy and you're making me crazy!"
"I love tasting my cum inside you. I love seeing it drip out of you and seeing it on your skin. I love knowing it's inside you and that you carry me around with you. I wanted you to taste us so you learn to love it too."
"I never would have done that! I never would have believed anyone would do that! You're just insane!"
She held her shock up like a shield, but beneath it I could see her glowing, salacious pleasure at being forced into such deviance, the stirring of her secret slut.
"You inspire me," I said. "You make me want to do it."
She was lying flat, her head on a pillow. She reached down between her legs and felt herself, slid a finger into her cleft and brought it to her lips, shiny with our wetness.
"Is that what the satyrs did to the nymphs?" she asked.
"Probably," I said. "Did you like that story?"
Hr smile held a hint of wickedness. "What else did they do?"
Her eyes had a mischievous spark, a low smoldering flame, burning steadily into mine. I brought her finger to my mouth and drew it inside, sucked it and felated it and washed it with my tongue. To an aroused body, every touch is intensely sensual, and Arianna inhaled sharply with a little inward hiss. Removing her finger, I leaned over and kissed her again, a deep, bottomless kiss. She opened her mouth to me and pulled her tongue back, giving me full access. I know anatomy as well as anyone, but it was hard not to believe that at that moment her mouth wasn't one end of an open tube that ran all the way down to her pussy, empty, hollow, and aching to be filled.
That quality of femaleness I struggled to describe before, that kind of cosmic femininity, rich, fecund, wanting: maybe it can only be described by a kiss like that one that Arianna gave to me, but it just radiated from her, she glowed with it. That face, normally so lovely and composed, contorted now by her widely opened mouth that eagerly invited whatever I wanted to do to her, her body, soft and ripe and patiently awaiting me—it was all too much for me. My hand trailed down her skin, down to her wet and sticky vagina, and this time there was no alarm, no protest or attempt to refuse me. With a breathy moan, she wrapped her free arm around my neck to hold on to that kiss, and parted her legs.
Just as Arianna's mouth clung to me on top, fastening on my tongue and sucking on it, so her pussy seemed to draw my finger in below. It was like a natural vacuum, a narrow, bottomless passage. I pushed my middle finger into her emptiness and she jerked her hips up in automatic response, then more slowly, I kept on going till the knuckles on my adjacent fingers mashed against her baby-soft labia.
She mewled, whined, and finally broke the kiss to turn her face and gasp for air as the invasion of her pussy took sudden precedence over that never-ending kiss and commanded all her attention. From the sweet divinity of that kiss to the to the raw violation of sex and a finger in her body.
"God, David! What are you doing? You're insatiable!"
I began to slowly pump my finger, sliding it in and out and turning it so I touch every part of her.
"Maybe I am," I said. "Maybe you make me that way."
"But I don't think I can. I just... You just made me... I mean, it's too soon. I'm not ready for any more."
"You don't have to do anything," I said. "This is for me. Strictly for me. My turn."
Too late she tried to defend herself. She half sat and reached down for my wrist but didn't have the strength to dislodge me, and meanwhile my finger was probing, wiggling, rotating inside her against those turgid, nerve-rich tissues, so that finally she gave up and fell back in the bed, abandoning herself to my ministrations, groaning with the indignity of it, the delicious indecency.
"Please, I don't know what you want from me! I can't, David. I can't! It's—"
"Get on your knees," I said. "Knees and chest. Bottom up."
"David—"
I half-lifted her and she rolled over awkwardly in the tangle of sheets and nervously got up on her hands and knees. I was kneeling directly behind her, hard as a cop's night stick.
"No." I leaned over and pressed on the back of her neck, forcing her chest down onto the bed so her face was in the pillow and her ass in the air. I held her like that and took my cock in my hand.
"This is what happens to bad girls who can't obey orders," I said. I gripped the back of her neck with one hand and with the other, dragged my cockhead up and down her slit to open her pussy. "They need to be taught."
I was on automatic. I was in that state of sexual inebriation where I'm no longer using my rational mind but driven by these deep, lizard-brain signals of lust and desire and things that only make sense in instinctive sexual terms: playing with her, playing with controlling her and controlling her feelings and taking possession of her. And Arianna gave in so readily, with such total alacrity and willingness, that I knew instinctively I was reading her and that we were in synch, in absolute empathy. I could feel her tension, torn between wanting to obey and please me and her body's own selfish need for orgasm and relief, and I played her there mercilessly.
All of this in a flash. I didn't stop and think about it. I was driven by the aching pain in my cock and balls, a desperate urge to penetrate, punish, and possess. I leaned back enough to look down at her and see her wet pink slit framed by her ass and the smooth columns of her thighs, looking like a slavering mouth, a magical cave and the key to her soul and that was all it took. I held her down and pushed into her.
Arianna wailed. Her toes curled against the soles of her feet and her nails dug into the pillow and she sobbed. I pushed in more, watching my entry, studying it, seeing her vaginal mouth stretch around me, stubbornly accepting what she couldn't fight. She was bent over below me like a slave bowing before her master, with no dignity, no resistance. When I was almost all the way in she put her palms against the mattress and tried to lift herself up but I just i pushed her back down.
"No!" I snarled. "You don't get to be on all fours. You'll take it like this!"
I was incredibly deep in her. I could tell. I could feel it. My cock had entered terra incognita, some untouched part of her birth canal, as if I'd broken into some secret room. I felt the need to light torches and examine this chamber, read the hieroglyphics on the walls, sights no man had ever seen.
I went so far into her and stopped, not yet fully ensconced, letting her adjust.
"It hurts," she said. "David, It hurts!"
But she made no move to get away, and I was being steadily overwhelmed by a wave of eviscerating pleasure, gripped tight in the passage of this beautiful and delicate girl crouching before me like a slave in my messy bed. I looked down on her, from the scatter of her dark hair on my white pillow to the sinuous musculature of her back, the narrow waist and then the generous flare of hips, made to accommodate just the kind of punishment I was dealing out. A strange kind of gratitude seized me, a need to cherish and reward, and I let go of her neck and ran my hands down from her shoulders to the spread of her hips, and then back up.
This was beauty. This was woman. This was everything I needed and the answer to almost every question, the solution to every problem, kneeling before me and moaning softly, adjusting herself to the hardness and thickness of my penetrating cock.
"Yes, baby," I said softly, soothing her. "That's my good girl, Arianna. That's my good, good girl, my perfect angel."
I continued to caress her, her curves like some divine flow of nectar under my hands. I kept my cock still inside her and felt her pussy pulse and fibrillate as she loosened to fit me, her other muscles lose their tight, panicked rigidity.
"Oh my God," she whispered as I stroked the supper backs of her thighs and the curve of her ass. "Oh my God..."
Cautiously I began to withdraw, slowly, watching her vaginal lips extrude outward to follow the sucking vacuum left by my shaft. I stopped and reversed, pushing back in with the same exaggerated slowness as her labia tucked back in and involuted, dragged inward by that tight, fleshy friction. Slow, so agonizingly slow. I wanted to savor every millimeter of her. I wanted her to feel every millimeter of me.
Faster. Just a little faster, feeling her, watching her face, pussy folding in and out. Arianna groaned in perfect abasement and reached automatically for the headboard, gripping the ironwork scrolls tightly in her fists, turned her face to the side so she could breathe, lips parted and swollen, eyes heavily closed with their dark lashes. Her breathing matched my rhythm, inhaling as I slid into her, exhaling as I pulled out.
She moaned softly. "Mmmm... Mmmm... Yes. Like that. Just like that."
"My angel," I said. "My perfect little girl. Take me, baby. Take whatever you need from me..."
There's always an awkwardness after making love. It comes not just from the emotional exhaustion, but from the lovers realizing they've just shown who they are in the most intimate and affecting way, and now they're faced with that honesty and its consequences as they try and reassemble themselves and tie their masks back on, knowing that now their lover knows. Now their lover has seen. Now their lover has felt their truth, and what is one to say?
For Arianna it was tears, weeping in my arms as I held her. I didn't ask her what was wrong or why she was crying. I'd felt the force of her release, and her tears now were like the rain after a hurricane blows through: the cleansing rain that marks the storm's passing.
In time she stopped and lay there for a while against my chest, and as she recovered I could almost feel her shame and embarrassment coming over her, making her curl up on herself like a dried leaf. I relaxed my embrace and she extricated herself and sat up. She reached for a tissue from the night stand and dabbed her eyes and blew her nose.
"Oh my," she said. "David, I'm so embarrassed. I'm not normally like this. Really, I'm not. Normally I'm the exact opposite. It's just so strange."
I already had my own ideas on what was happening, but I thought it best that she work things out on her own. But meanwhile, her confusion and dismay were almost painful to see. The least I could do was give her an out.
"You've been under a lot of stress, Arianna. With Ethan, and the lawyers. That's got to have an effect on you."
She thought about that for a moment. "Yes. Yes, that's certainly true. I'm sure that's part of it."
I couldn't resist pressing her. "Then what's the other part?"
She was sitting on the side of the bed, facing the night stand, her breasts hidden from me, her knees pressed primly together. She looked at me over her shoulder.
"What you do to me. The way you make me feel."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know. No one's ever made me feel like that. I... I do have some experience. Ethan wasn't my first lover. There were others, but..."
My ego could only take so much stroking before I smiled. "But what?"
She shook her head in disbelief. "You must think I'm horrible. A perfect slut. But that's not it. I'm not. And you're not even my type. I like serious guys more my age who work out and have drive and ambition and— Oh! No, David, I don't mean—"
I laughed at her discomfiture. "You think too much, Anna. You worry too much."
She nodded. "I do. I know I do. But that's what's different about you. With you I don't think or worry. With you I just— I don't know what I do. "
"You feel," I said. "That's what it is. I don't let you do anything else. I make you keep still and feel."
She stared at me for a moment, considering this. "You think I'm a sub, don't you? You think I like being inferior—"
"I don't even want to hear that word, Arianna! I told you. it's just a stupid label."
"Which word? Sub? Or inferior?"
"Either of them. You're obsessed about it, about not being a submissive, and you're being silly. It doesn't matter. I can call you a sub. I can call you a bottom. I can call you a top or a dominatrix or a left-handed Zoroastrian Freemason. What does it matter? What matters is that you feel, and that I can touch those places that make you feel."
She stared at me a bit longer, then smiled. She swing her legs up on the bed and lay down and pressed herself against me, snuggling close and putting her head on my shoulder. She began playing idly with the hair on my chest.
"I've never been with a guy who didn't shave his body," she said. "But you have Just the right amount of hair. And it's salt and pepper, like your beard. Did you know that? I didn't know a man's chest hair got gray. It's kind of sexy."
I said nothing, just held he closer. She was facing my side, and now she raised her top leg and slid it over my thighs.
"Is it sick that your age turns me on?" she asked. "Does that mean I have some kind of Elektra thing going on, like secretly lusting for my father or something?"
"Thinking, Anna," I said. "You're thinking again, and worrying."
"What does it mean that your age turns me on? Why does that excite me?"
"It makes me different," I said. "It gives me authority. I'm not just another boyfriend, am I? I'm something else."
She thought about this for a bit, but I was growing fearful that if I let her keep talking and analyzing and going on, she'd talk herself into believing our relationship was some sort of aberration, dangerously deviant and somehow sick, and that she'd talk herself into leaving.
"Let me tell you a story, Arianna. An old Greek myth, about nymphs and satyrs. You know about nymphs and satyrs? The Greeks had myths to describe everything, and maybe this one will help you understand us.
"You know what nymphs are: gorgeous young female spirits that lived in enchanted woods and by sacred streams and springs, and wherever nature was especially beautiful and sacred. They were immortal but only semi-divine; not really goddesses, but more like spirits of places. People who study such things say the nymphs were symbols of nature's creativity and mystery and the power of life, and maybe so. But what's important is that the nymphs were all beautiful and ethereal, and virginal too, and that's where the trouble started.
"Because nymphs didn't feel any desire or urges or any of the more profane things that regular people did, they were incomplete. You know, being semi-divine and sacred is great, but most of us don't live in that world. We live in a world of desires and lust and needs and our own dirty little concerns, so people couldn't relate to the nymphs, and they couldn't relate to people. They could look on the world of regular humans but couldn't connect with it. They were too pure and heavenly. So in time the nymphs became terribly bored and frustrated and started to wither away. Without people to worship them and admire their beauty, they had no purpose. They longed for contact but they had no way to do it.
"Finally they went to Zeus for help, but Zeus didn't know what to do. No one knew what to do until Aphrodite came along. She saw what the problem was at once The nymphs needed men. Dirty, profane, sex-crazed men. Aphrodite blessed—or some say maybe cursed—the nymphs with desire. Then she created the perfect men for them.
"She created satyrs. You know satyrs, those little guys with horns and hairy goat legs, playing their pipes all day in the woods? Satyrs are male spirits who haunted the same places the nymphs did, but satyrs aren't so divine. Not by a long shot. Satyrs are very sexual, and sexual in the most extreme, horny, and obscene ways; ways that could make even the gods blush. She turned the satyrs loose on the nymphs, and the satyrs went to town. They started teaching the nymphs the pleasures of hot, randy sex, those dirty, almost degrading things that men like but that the heavenly nymphs would never have come up with in a million years. At first the nymphs were horrified, but soon enough they came around. The satyrs taught them to love those carnal pleasures, and the nymphs and satyrs have been happy with each other ever since."
Arianna laughed uncertainly. "That's very nice but I don't see what that has to do with us."
I rolled on my side and looked at her. "I'm the satyr to your nymph. You keep worrying about being submissive. You've got to stop thinking about it like that. I'm not ordering you. I'm teaching you. You're too pure to know what you really want, and so I'm teaching you. I'm teaching you the language of sex."
Before she could say anything, I pushed her over on her back and slid down her body, throwing the covers aside as I went. My mouth dragged over her breasts, which were already showing the yellowish bruises from my feverish hands, down her ribs and waist, over the flare of her hip to her pussy, still wet and leaking a mixture of our fluids.
Arianna lifted her head to watch me and moaned in alarm, closing her legs tight in disbelief at what I was about to do. But I intended to show her exactly what sort of perverse and salacious acts this satyr was capable of, so I took her ankles and levered her legs apart, slid between them and fastened my mouth over her like some deranged parasite and started to suck.
She cried out and reached down to push my face away from her shame, but I was set on my goal. Her pussy was slick and fragrant with our love and I used my tongue as a wedge to pry her apart and scoop up some of our mixed spendings and suck them into my mouth. As soon as I opened her a thick wad of semen slid from her hole and onto my tongue like a lazy white slug. I sucked that up too, and Arianna, who'd raised her head to watch what I was doing in utter disbelief, uttered a little growl of alarm and protest and tried again to close her legs on my obscene vaginal repast. I felt her shudder in a mixture of disgust and shameful arousal and she grabbed my hair with both hands and tried to push me away.
But I wasn't going to be denied. I was going to show her that there was nothing about her that was beyond my desire, nothing too lewd or obscene that I wouldn't do to her. I slid my hands under her ass and lifted her buttocks and held her against my face, sucking and licking and wallowing in her like a pig at a trough. I wanted her, and there was no way she was going to dissuade me.
As soon as I had enough of her discharge in my mouth, I clamped my lips shut and slid back up her body and lay down next to her, trapping her arm beneath me and grabbing her other arm and pressing it down so she was helpless beneath me. I leaned over her so my mouth was poised right above hers so she'd know exactly what I intended to do, but before I could spit it into her mouth she turned her face violently to the side in denial, causing me to release her wrist and grab her face instead and turn it back to me, squeezing her cheeks till her mouth opened.
She squirmed and squealed in protest, begging me not to do it, but I opened my mouth and extended my tongue to let the thick mixture of mixed splooge drizzle into her throat, and she was forced to swallow just to keep from choking. Her initial wail of alarm turned quickly into a deep and throaty sound of obscene and abject pleasure. I put my hand on her throat so I could feel her swallow and she did so avidly, again and again, a thick rush of goose bumps suddenly appearing on her shoulders and chest.
My load delivered, I pressed my mouth against hers and Arianna reached up and grabbed my hair to pull me deeper into that kiss, her tongue scurrying into my mouth as if searching for even more of that lascivious treat.
She released me and fell back, overcome. "Oh my God that's so dirty! So hot! Oh my God, David! You're crazy and you're making me crazy!"
"I love tasting my cum inside you. I love seeing it drip out of you and seeing it on your skin. I love knowing it's inside you and that you carry me around with you. I wanted you to taste us so you learn to love it too."
"I never would have done that! I never would have believed anyone would do that! You're just insane!"
She held her shock up like a shield, but beneath it I could see her glowing, salacious pleasure at being forced into such deviance, the stirring of her secret slut.
"You inspire me," I said. "You make me want to do it."
She was lying flat, her head on a pillow. She reached down between her legs and felt herself, slid a finger into her cleft and brought it to her lips, shiny with our wetness.
"Is that what the satyrs did to the nymphs?" she asked.
"Probably," I said. "Did you like that story?"
Hr smile held a hint of wickedness. "What else did they do?"
Her eyes had a mischievous spark, a low smoldering flame, burning steadily into mine. I brought her finger to my mouth and drew it inside, sucked it and felated it and washed it with my tongue. To an aroused body, every touch is intensely sensual, and Arianna inhaled sharply with a little inward hiss. Removing her finger, I leaned over and kissed her again, a deep, bottomless kiss. She opened her mouth to me and pulled her tongue back, giving me full access. I know anatomy as well as anyone, but it was hard not to believe that at that moment her mouth wasn't one end of an open tube that ran all the way down to her pussy, empty, hollow, and aching to be filled.
That quality of femaleness I struggled to describe before, that kind of cosmic femininity, rich, fecund, wanting: maybe it can only be described by a kiss like that one that Arianna gave to me, but it just radiated from her, she glowed with it. That face, normally so lovely and composed, contorted now by her widely opened mouth that eagerly invited whatever I wanted to do to her, her body, soft and ripe and patiently awaiting me—it was all too much for me. My hand trailed down her skin, down to her wet and sticky vagina, and this time there was no alarm, no protest or attempt to refuse me. With a breathy moan, she wrapped her free arm around my neck to hold on to that kiss, and parted her legs.
Just as Arianna's mouth clung to me on top, fastening on my tongue and sucking on it, so her pussy seemed to draw my finger in below. It was like a natural vacuum, a narrow, bottomless passage. I pushed my middle finger into her emptiness and she jerked her hips up in automatic response, then more slowly, I kept on going till the knuckles on my adjacent fingers mashed against her baby-soft labia.
She mewled, whined, and finally broke the kiss to turn her face and gasp for air as the invasion of her pussy took sudden precedence over that never-ending kiss and commanded all her attention. From the sweet divinity of that kiss to the to the raw violation of sex and a finger in her body.
"God, David! What are you doing? You're insatiable!"
I began to slowly pump my finger, sliding it in and out and turning it so I touch every part of her.
"Maybe I am," I said. "Maybe you make me that way."
"But I don't think I can. I just... You just made me... I mean, it's too soon. I'm not ready for any more."
"You don't have to do anything," I said. "This is for me. Strictly for me. My turn."
Too late she tried to defend herself. She half sat and reached down for my wrist but didn't have the strength to dislodge me, and meanwhile my finger was probing, wiggling, rotating inside her against those turgid, nerve-rich tissues, so that finally she gave up and fell back in the bed, abandoning herself to my ministrations, groaning with the indignity of it, the delicious indecency.
"Please, I don't know what you want from me! I can't, David. I can't! It's—"
"Get on your knees," I said. "Knees and chest. Bottom up."
"David—"
I half-lifted her and she rolled over awkwardly in the tangle of sheets and nervously got up on her hands and knees. I was kneeling directly behind her, hard as a cop's night stick.
"No." I leaned over and pressed on the back of her neck, forcing her chest down onto the bed so her face was in the pillow and her ass in the air. I held her like that and took my cock in my hand.
"This is what happens to bad girls who can't obey orders," I said. I gripped the back of her neck with one hand and with the other, dragged my cockhead up and down her slit to open her pussy. "They need to be taught."
I was on automatic. I was in that state of sexual inebriation where I'm no longer using my rational mind but driven by these deep, lizard-brain signals of lust and desire and things that only make sense in instinctive sexual terms: playing with her, playing with controlling her and controlling her feelings and taking possession of her. And Arianna gave in so readily, with such total alacrity and willingness, that I knew instinctively I was reading her and that we were in synch, in absolute empathy. I could feel her tension, torn between wanting to obey and please me and her body's own selfish need for orgasm and relief, and I played her there mercilessly.
All of this in a flash. I didn't stop and think about it. I was driven by the aching pain in my cock and balls, a desperate urge to penetrate, punish, and possess. I leaned back enough to look down at her and see her wet pink slit framed by her ass and the smooth columns of her thighs, looking like a slavering mouth, a magical cave and the key to her soul and that was all it took. I held her down and pushed into her.
Arianna wailed. Her toes curled against the soles of her feet and her nails dug into the pillow and she sobbed. I pushed in more, watching my entry, studying it, seeing her vaginal mouth stretch around me, stubbornly accepting what she couldn't fight. She was bent over below me like a slave bowing before her master, with no dignity, no resistance. When I was almost all the way in she put her palms against the mattress and tried to lift herself up but I just i pushed her back down.
"No!" I snarled. "You don't get to be on all fours. You'll take it like this!"
I was incredibly deep in her. I could tell. I could feel it. My cock had entered terra incognita, some untouched part of her birth canal, as if I'd broken into some secret room. I felt the need to light torches and examine this chamber, read the hieroglyphics on the walls, sights no man had ever seen.
I went so far into her and stopped, not yet fully ensconced, letting her adjust.
"It hurts," she said. "David, It hurts!"
But she made no move to get away, and I was being steadily overwhelmed by a wave of eviscerating pleasure, gripped tight in the passage of this beautiful and delicate girl crouching before me like a slave in my messy bed. I looked down on her, from the scatter of her dark hair on my white pillow to the sinuous musculature of her back, the narrow waist and then the generous flare of hips, made to accommodate just the kind of punishment I was dealing out. A strange kind of gratitude seized me, a need to cherish and reward, and I let go of her neck and ran my hands down from her shoulders to the spread of her hips, and then back up.
This was beauty. This was woman. This was everything I needed and the answer to almost every question, the solution to every problem, kneeling before me and moaning softly, adjusting herself to the hardness and thickness of my penetrating cock.
"Yes, baby," I said softly, soothing her. "That's my good girl, Arianna. That's my good, good girl, my perfect angel."
I continued to caress her, her curves like some divine flow of nectar under my hands. I kept my cock still inside her and felt her pussy pulse and fibrillate as she loosened to fit me, her other muscles lose their tight, panicked rigidity.
"Oh my God," she whispered as I stroked the supper backs of her thighs and the curve of her ass. "Oh my God..."
Cautiously I began to withdraw, slowly, watching her vaginal lips extrude outward to follow the sucking vacuum left by my shaft. I stopped and reversed, pushing back in with the same exaggerated slowness as her labia tucked back in and involuted, dragged inward by that tight, fleshy friction. Slow, so agonizingly slow. I wanted to savor every millimeter of her. I wanted her to feel every millimeter of me.
Faster. Just a little faster, feeling her, watching her face, pussy folding in and out. Arianna groaned in perfect abasement and reached automatically for the headboard, gripping the ironwork scrolls tightly in her fists, turned her face to the side so she could breathe, lips parted and swollen, eyes heavily closed with their dark lashes. Her breathing matched my rhythm, inhaling as I slid into her, exhaling as I pulled out.
She moaned softly. "Mmmm... Mmmm... Yes. Like that. Just like that."
"My angel," I said. "My perfect little girl. Take me, baby. Take whatever you need from me..."
-To Be Continued-
This story was written by user dr_mabeuse
Header picture by BDSM fetish, Angel Art
