10. Session Three | Application #2
Pressing through me from bottom to top in one slow stroke. I grabbed his head. Both hands. My fingers finding his scalp and gripping because it was the only thing in the void that was real. His hair beneath my hands. His mouth on my pussy. The only anchors in a world with no sight and no sound.
He ate me the way he'd learned. Firm tongue.
Direct pressure on my clit. Circles. Sucking.
His jaw wide, his mouth covering me, his tongue working with a rhythm I could feel but not hear.
My hips rocking into his face. My body chasing the orgasm that was building fast because every nerve ending was magnified, every sensation amplified by the sensory deprivation, my brain with nothing to process except his mouth his mouth his mouth.
I came on his tongue. Hard. My fingers yanking his hair.
My thighs clamping. My body seizing on the bed in convulsions I couldn't see or hear, only feel.
The orgasm rolling through me in silence, my mouth open on sounds that disappeared into brown noise, my body existing inside pure sensation with nothing to dilute it.
He didn't stop.
His mouth stayed. Tongue still working. Pushing me from one orgasm directly into the climb of another.
My body trying to squirm away, overstimulated, my clit swollen and screaming, but his hands gripped my thighs and held me open and kept eating and I couldn't do anything but take it because I couldn't see or hear or predict when it would end.
I was trapped in pleasure. Held there by his hands and his mouth and the darkness and the silence.
The second orgasm hit brutal. My back bowing off the bed. My hands pulling his hair so hard I felt his scalp shift beneath my fingers. My pussy pulsing against his tongue in spasms that went on and on because there was nothing, nothing to distract me from feeling every single wave at full volume.
He pulled back.
My body collapsed. Trembling. I felt his weight shift on the mattress. His hands on my hips. Turning me over. Face down. My breasts pressing into the sheets, my oiled stomach sliding against the cotton, my ass in the air.
I felt more oil. Poured in a stream down my spine.
Hot. Pooling in the small of my back. Running down between my ass cheeks.
His hands spreading it. Over my shoulders.
Down my back. Kneading the muscles that had locked from coming so hard.
Working the tension out while his hands slid lower, over the curve of my ass, squeezing, spreading.
Then his teeth.
Biting the muscle of my shoulder. Hard. The pain sharp and specific, his jaw clenched into my flesh, the indentation of his teeth sinking in.
I gasped into the pillow. My hands grabbing fistfuls of sheets.
He held the bite for three seconds. Four.
Long enough for the pain to convert, long enough for me to feel the heat bloom outward, long enough for my pussy to clench at the sensation.
He released. Moved lower. Bit the middle of my back. Just as hard. I felt the imprint of his teeth forming on my skin. Another bloom of heat. Another pulse between my legs.
Lower. The curve above my ass. His teeth sinking in.
Holding. I was keening into the pillow now, sounds I couldn't hear leaving my mouth, my body arching into the bites because the pain had crossed over into something my body read as pleasure.
Each one sending a pulse directly to my clit. Each one making me wetter.
He bit my ass. The thick flesh of my right cheek.
His jaw closing hard enough that I jerked forward, my hips pressing into the mattress, my hands tearing at the sheets.
The pain was exquisite. Specific. His teeth holding the flesh and then his tongue licking the spot and then his teeth again, harder, and the contrast of bite and soothe was making my brain short circuit.
I was grinding into the mattress. My hips rocking, my clit pressing against the sheets beneath me, chasing friction because my body needed to come again and was willing to hump my own bed to get there.
He gripped my hips. Pulled them up. Away from the mattress. Denying me the friction. I whimpered into the pillow.
Then I felt him.
His dick. The head pressing against my entrance from behind. Thick. Blunt. Spreading me open. He didn't push in. Just held there. The tip of him parting my lips, nestled at the opening, right there but not entering. The warmth of him. The promise of fullness.
I pushed back. Tried to take him in. His hands tightened on my hips. Held me still.
I couldn't beg. He couldn't hear me beg. No, that's wrong. I couldn't hear me beg. But I was begging. My mouth moving against the pillow, words lost to the brown noise. Please. Please. Please.
He held me there for an eternity. The head of his dick just barely inside. My pussy clenching at the tip, trying to pull him in. My body shaking with the need to be filled.
Then he drove forward.
One stroke. All the way. Filling me so deep I felt him behind my navel. The stretch enormous after the buildup. My body opening around him, swallowing him, my walls gripping every inch. I screamed into the pillow. Felt it in my chest but not my ears.
He fucked me face down.
His body covering mine. His weight pressing me into the mattress. One hand on the back of my neck, holding my face against the pillow. The other hand gripping my hip, controlling the angle. His chest against my back, skin sliding against oiled skin, his body heavy on top of mine.
I couldn't see. Couldn't hear. Couldn't move beneath his weight. Could only feel. His dick splitting me open on every stroke. His hips driving into my ass. His hand on the back of my neck, pinning. His weight pressing the air from my lungs so that every breath was shallow and earned.
The deprivation magnified everything. Without sight or sound, his dick inside me was the only thing that existed.
Every ridge. Every vein. The curve of the head dragging against my front wall on the pullback.
The stretch on reentry. I felt him in details I'd never noticed before.
The temperature of him, hotter than my body.
The way he pulsed inside me between thrusts.
The weight of his balls pressed against my clit when he bottomed out.
He shifted. Pulled my hips up higher. Changed the angle. And the next stroke hit something so deep, so precise, that my vision went white behind the blindfold. A spot past the g-spot. Deeper.
He hit it again. And again. Finding the angle and staying there.
Relentless. My face buried in the pillow, his weight on my back, his dick deep enough to rearrange me.
I was coming. I didn't know when it started.
The orgasm wasn't building, it was just happening, continuous, my body one long contraction around him that wouldn't stop because the stimulation wouldn't stop and I couldn't escape it and my brain was drowning in sensation with no other input to dilute it.
His hand left my neck. Found my hair. Pulled.
My head coming up off the pillow, my back arching beneath him, the stretch in my scalp adding another point of sensation.
He pulled until my throat was exposed and then his other hand was there.
Around my throat. From behind. His palm against the front of my neck.
He squeezed.
My air narrowed. The brown noise in my ears. The darkness behind the blindfold. No sound. No sight. Now no air. My body reduced to pure nerve endings being fucked hard and deep and choked from behind and I shattered.