Chapter-77: a pure pleasurable cheating night part- 2
"Please," she heard herself beg, the words torn from her soul. "Don't stop. Bang me. Really bang me this time. I need to feel you come inside me. I need it, George. Please. Fill my lower mouth up. Make me a woman that is a complete banging sticky white milk dumpster."
Her plea hung in the air between them, raw and desperate. His controlled rhythm broke. "You dirty, perfect bitch," he groaned, his composure shattering. His groan was a raw, guttural thing that seemed to vibrate through her entire body.
Her words, her filthy, perfect plea, had shattered the last of his control. His hips pistoned against her, no longer languid but driving with a savage, possessive rhythm that stole the air from her lungs.
"You want to be a dumpster?" he whispered into her ear, his voice husky with exertion and lust. "Then take it all in. Take every filthy inch. This lower mouth was made for my meat rod."
Mohini could only moan, a high, keening sound as the new, overwhelming fullness threatened to break her apart. Her hands scrabbled against the cold glass of the window, searching for way to vent this happiness and pleasure for support.
The world outside was a distant, blurry painting of city lights, completely forgotten. The only reality was the brutal, incredible friction inside her, the slap of his skin against hers, the way his grip on her hips felt like a brand.
"Yes! Yes!" she cried out, her voice cracking. "It's yours! It's all yours! Use it, George, use my little lower mouth, Bang!" His hand snaked around her front, his fingers finding her clit with an unerring accuracy that made her shriek.
The dual sensation was too much, a dizzying cyclone of pleasure that coiled tighter and tighter in her belly. He wasn't just banging her; he was playing her, orchestrating every twitch and spasm of her body.
"Such a good little slut for me." he rasped, his breath hot on her neck. "Making such pretty, nasty sounds… Come on. Let me feel you come all over my meat rod. Squeeze me like the desperate little cheating girlfriend you are."
The degradation lit a fire in her veins. She was all of those things, and for him, in this moment, it was all she ever wanted to be. Her Climax built not as a wave but as a sudden, critical mass of sensation.
It detonated without warning, a silent, seismic shock that ripped through her and then erupted into a choked, sobbing wails... Her inner muscles clenched around him, a frantic, rhythmic pulsing that milked his length. "Bang..!"
George roared his own rhythm faltering as her body gripped him. "That's it… that's your job… take it… take my Banging load…" His words were the final trigger. She felt him swell and then the first hot, damp jet of his release flooded her depths. Splurt… Gush...
A thick, pulsing eruption that seemed to go on and on, filling the empty, aching space he had carved inside her. She whimpered, her body oversensitive and trembling, but she pushed back against him, wanting every last drop, wanting to feel that warmth seep into her very core.
He collapsed over her, his sweat slicked chest pressing against her back, his weight pinning her to the window. They both gasped for air, the only sounds in the room their ragged breathing and the faint hum of the city below.
He was still buried inside her, still pulsing weakly. For a long moment neither moved. Mohini's mind was blissfully, utterly empty.
There was no guilt well she is a cheating woman how can she have guilt, no thought of Martin after tasting such a good things and pleasure and no thought of tomorrow. There was only the profound, physical truth of what had just happened.
Slowly, carefully, he pulled out. A gush of their combined release followed a warm trickle down her inner thigh. The loss of him felt profound, leaving her feeling hollowed out and used in the most exquisite way.
He turned her in his arms. His expression was no longer one of cruel domination, but of dark, sated awe. He looked at her flushed face, her well kissed lips, her dazed eyes. "Look at you," he murmured, his thumb stroking her cheek.
"Absolutely ruined… My perfect slutty secret lover…" He lowered his head and captured her mouth in a kiss that was startlingly tender. It was a slow, deep exploration, a tasting of his possession.
She melted into it, her arms winding around his neck, her body still thrumming with the aftershocks. He guided her away from the window, his arm strong around her waist, and laid her down on the vast bed.
She expected him to leave, to go clean up, but he didn't. Instead, he lay beside her, his hand drifting back between her legs. She flinched, a tiny jolt of overstimulation zipping through her. "George… I can't… it's too much…"
"Shhh," he soothed, but his fingers didn't stop. They traced through the dampness on her thigh, the evidence of their joining. He brought his fingers to her lips. "Taste the new dish…" Her eyes widened, but the command, now soft spoken, was no less potent.
She opened her mouth, and he slid his fingers inside. The taste was musky, salty, uniquely them. It was the most debauched thing she had ever done. A fresh, weak throb of desire echoed from her well banged lower mouth.
"Good girl," he praised her, his voice a low rumble. He shifted down the bed, his head replacing his hand. He didn't thrust inside her again. Instead, his tongue lapped gently at her swollen flesh, cleaning her, tasting her, worshiping her.
The sensation was a sharp, tingling counterpoint to the deep, full ache within. It wasn't to bring her to another peak, but to prolong the intimacy, to keep her teetering on the edge of pleasure and sensitivity.
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