spontaneous

spontaneous

Status: In Progress

Genre: Romance

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Romance

Summary

a little rub, a little tug...a romantic encounter that ends in delightfully for all involved...

Summary

a little rub, a little tug...a romantic encounter that ends in delightfully for all involved...

Content

Submitted: October 19, 2017

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: October 19, 2017

A A A

A A A


When he came on her in arcing spurts of translucent white, she licked her lips as it landed around her mouth, spattered on her face and clung in nacreous droplets in the follicles of her hair. His penis, bobbing with the muscular contractions of his orgasm, was still hard in her hand seconds after he expelled his last jet of semen. “I wanted that in me so bad,” She said, rubbing the semen across her chest, smearing the globs into glistening streaks across her abdomen and around her areoles. “I love the smell of it…and it tastes…it tastes like you…”

He looked down at the tuft of pubic hair where the cleave of her labia began. He touched it, smelled himself in the air—an antiseptic smell, one that he associated with his teenage years of sexual angst and time spent masturbating by himself in his bedroom to images of breasts and buttocks in magazines that he found. He parted her, slid a finger inside, felt the degrees of moist warmth inside her. He leaned forward, pressed his chest against her semen-covered breasts, buried his nose in her neck and began to rub the tip of his index finger gingerly around her clitoris.

She sighed. The wind outside shuffled the shadows of the leaves which fell across the bedsheets. He felt exhausted from their previous bout of lovemaking, tired from his orgasm. But still…there she lay. There she lay smelling like him and reveling in the taste of him.

He slipped two fingers inside, probed, felt around, teased at the edge of her depth. Now, he started to rub them inside of her, seeking that firmness, hungering for her even though his sexual needs had been satisfied. He slid out, then paused, waiting for her to lay her hand on his arm and urge him back inside her. “Faster…” she said, and the words came out wispy and breathless, whistling through her partially clenched teeth. “Go faster or…or I’ll suck your cock till you come again. I’ll make you sore. You’ll wished you’d just listened to me…”

He went faster.

The wind outside picked up.

The October sun lay low near the horizon and the rattle of the tree branches was lost beneath the sound of her shrieks, her cries, her expressions of pleasure.

“Faster or I’ll fuck you again. What I can’t get down my throat, I’ll squeeze out with my pussy…”

He wrapped his free hand around the nape of her neck, squeezed, held her tight. In spite of his orgasm, he felt something like sexual excitement again. A twinge just above his pubis. A tightening in the region just below his stomach. A cold, electric tingle as nerve endings readied to signal blood vessels to open up and engorge his shaft.

“Ahhh…” she whispered, and his cock rubbed against her leg as it became erect again. “You want more, then…” He’d never had back-to-back orgasms with her. This would be a first. And, he imagined, memorable.

She worked him as she had before, only this time there was a soreness in his cock from the intensity of his climax. There was also an ache in his groin, as though his testes were swollen from having emptied all of their fluid. But now they were being called on to fill back up again.

But at the core of his being, there was a sensation which he could equate only to a kind of spiritual, sexual hunger. He felt starved and there she lay, revealing to him all that he could eat. And he was determined to be satisfied. “Stroke me,” he told her, and she obliged with a tug on his penis that was forceful enough for him to almost buckle. His tip was sensitive, still dripping, still wet. His foreskin slid up and down. He watched her hands, fingers curled tightly around him.

His cum was drying on her breasts from earlier. “Shower me with it. I wanna bathe in it…” She said, and her taunt coupled with her deviant smile sent a pang of longing through his middle.

She moved with an eagerness, now, seeing that he approved of her request and meant to oblige her. Her rate of stroking increased and so did that pang of longing. With each tug outward, sliding his foreskin over the tip of his cock, he wanted to collapse forward. And with each push backward, he longed to spray his semen over her body again—but he couldn’t. His body would not allow a climax just yet. It had exhausted itself to produce the first round. But this second one would be a little more difficult. He was not prepared for it. “Very good. Nice and firm. Hard as it was before…love that little ridge running beneath the underside. Feels like it’s good and full…” She was making these observations as she watched him writhe beneath the blades of the fan overhead. She said these things as a matter of fact—teasing him, toying with him, enjoying watching his sexual pleasure build. He had the sudden urge to fill her mouth. Her ass. Her pussy. To cover her in more of his semen. “Now…come on me hard.”

She rapidly pumped him, her hand moving in time to the building of his orgasm—a pendulum of sensation that swung from the crown of his head to the tip of his toes, speeding up till it could no longer hold itself inside. He reached down, grabbed the insides of her thighs, felt the skin there, felt the muscle bunching up beneath his grip. This exposure of himself excited him. He was bared to her. Daylight came in through the window and the writ of rising ecstasy was in his every wince.

Then the explosion came. As of something boiling over, spurting outward. The same arcs of white semen streaking through the air, pattering on her body. Her mouth was open. He watched as some of his cum hit her tongue and landed in her mouth. This only made him orgasm even harder, supplying her with the taste she so desired. She swallowed the droplets. Rubbed her nipples again.

“I’ve never done that…” he told her. She nodded. “I know,” she said.

She winked. The wind blew. He collapsed by her side. The smell of him wafted upwards from where the fresh pools of sperm were drying in the depression formed by her stomach. She turned to him and grinned.

“Wanna try for number three?” she asked.

October winds ushered in the late-evening clouds whose edges were fringed by gold and purple beyond the windowpane.  


© Copyright 2017 Aurora M. Soleado. All rights reserved.

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