A Getaway To A Land Far, Far Away #2
He kneels at the edge of the bed, takes both my feet in his hands, and starts with my calves.
His hands are huge, the knuckles rough, but his touch is impossibly gentle.
He kneads the muscle, working up to the backs of my knees, then higher, to my quads and the tops of my thighs.
The linen bunches at my waist, the hem caught at my hips.
His thumbs dig in, and every time he hits a knot, I gasp.
“Is this okay?” he asks, but he knows the answer.
“Yes,” I say. “God, yes.”
He smiles, then moves higher. His hands slide under the shirt, up the backs of my thighs, then over my ass, kneading the flesh, thumbs working in circles. I writhe a little, pressing my hips into the mattress, loving the way it makes me feel exposed, owned.
He keeps going, up to my lower back, then my shoulders, my neck.
He makes me roll over, and I do, the shirt falling open at my chest. My giant tits spill out, nipples hard and pink in the cool air, and he doesn’t hide his appreciation.
He rubs my shoulders, my collarbone, then brushes his fingers over my breasts, teasing, tracing, until I’m panting.
“Do you want more, my dirty little girl?” he says, voice low.
I nod, unable to speak.
He reaches into the drawer by the bed, pulls out a bottle of oil. The sight of it sends a jolt through my stomach.
He slicks my breasts with the oil, working it in, his fingers gliding over the skin, massaging deeper, pinching my nipples until I moan. Then he moves lower, one hand cupping my pussy through the shirt, the other still on my chest.
“Spread your legs,” he commands, and I do, the shirt bunched up around my waist, my cunt already wet and aching.
He strokes me, gentle at first, then harder, his fingers parting my folds, circling my clit until I’m squirming. The sensation is overwhelming—his touch, the oil, the knowledge that he’s watching every reaction. I reach for his wrist, needing to anchor myself, and he lets me, but never stops.
“You’re beautiful, baby,” he rasps, blue eyes alive. “So fucking gorgeous with your sloppy cunt and big tits. You were made to be Daddy’s little fuckdoll, to use and abuse as much as I want. Are you ready to get fucked now?”
I’m already mindless with need and unable to reply.
In fact, I hardly notice Kent reaching for a velvet pouch by the bed, and when he opens it, I see the toy: a black silicone cock, thick and long and curved in a way that makes my cunt spasm just from the sight.
He shows it to me, eyes gleaming, then slicks it with oil and presses it to my entrance.
“Ready?” he asks. “I got this from a sex shop in the red light district. Let’s see how much you like Italian cock.”
But he doesn’t slide it in all the way. Instead, he runs it up and down my wet slit, teasing me, and I spread my legs wider, cupping my breasts in both hands as if in offering.
“Please, Daddy,” I beg. “Per favore!”
He chuckles deep in his chest.
“I always knew you were nothing more than a wet piece of pussy.”
Then, he slides the dildo in, slow at first, and I arch my back, crying out as it fills me.
“Oooh!” I scream, my pussy still adapting. “Unnnh!” The stretch is perfect, just this side of too much, and Kent growls as he pushes it in until the base bottoms out, leaving only an inch or two on the outside.
“What a dirty little slut,” he rasps. “My horny little girl always needs big dick in her creamy vag, don’t you? Goddamn.”
Then, fucks me with the big, black toy, deep and slow, while his other hand rubs my aching clit. My body tenses, then shudders, then goes liquid.
“Mmm!” I cry out. “Ooooh!”
But I haven’t come yet. Instead, Kent leans over me, his cock hard against my thigh, and kisses me again, this time with more hunger, more desperation. The toy moves in and out, slick and relentless, and then he pulls it out, flips me onto my stomach, and positions himself behind me.
“Hands above your head,” he says, and I obey.
He spreads my ass cheeks, spit-slicks his cock, and presses the tip to my asshole. I gasp, but he shushes me, kisses my back, and goes slow. The pressure builds, then gives, and I feel him slide inside, thick and perfect and real.
“Fuck,” he groans, and I love the sound of it. My asshole is so stretched but I adore the ache, and press my face into the cover as I’m violated in my back end.
“Oooh!” I moan. “Oh god!”
But Kent wants more. He grabs the dildo, and with one hand, pushes it back into my pussy while fucking my ass with his cock. The sensation is too much—too full, too intense—and I moan, wild, biting the pillow as he pounds me from behind.
“Such a good girl,” he says, and the words make me clench around him.
“Taking both. Taking all of me. You were made for this, weren’t you?
Getting fucked by two cocks is your thing, isn’t it?
It’s because you have a horny pussy and even hornier ass, and the only way is to fill them both full of dick. ”
I nod, screaming now. “Yes, Daddy! Yes, yes, yes! Fuck my pussy and my asshole! They belong to you!”
He fucks me harder, the toy pistoning in and out of my pussy while his cock stretches my ass. I feel myself building, tighter and tighter, until I’m right at the edge.
“Come for me,” he growls, and I do, my body convulsing around both shafts, the orgasm tearing through me so hard I scream. Literally, my vision goes black as a massive convulsion seizes my asshole, almost pushing his cock out of my back end.
“Fuck!” he shouts. “Oh shit shit shit!
In the end, my anal orgasm isn’t powerful enough to expel his massive hardness, and he keeps fucking me, chasing his own pleasure, and then I hear his breath catch, his cock swell, as his come shoot pulses. Then he ejaculates hard, deep inside my ass, filling me with heat.
“Fuck!” he roars, still fucking my pussy with the dildo. “Shit shit shit!”
We scream and cry with ecstasy, both of my holes so stretched and full that I can’t think.
I can’t feel anything except the incredible pleasure pulsing through my veins, my two holes clasping and clamping on the huge cocks within.
Finally, however, the climax ebbs and we collapse onto the bed, both of us shaking, both of us ruined.
Kent rolls me onto my back, kisses my face, my neck, my breasts, my thighs. His mouth lingers at my ear. I expect him to say something nasty because my man always talks dirty, but instead, what he says is a surprise.
“Marry me,” he whispers.
I blink, stunned. “What?”
“Marry me,” he says again, louder this time. “I want you. Forever. No contracts, no deals, no conditions. Just you.”
My heart explodes, my whole body a live wire. I laugh, then cry, then throw my arms around him and say, “Yes. Yes, yes, yes.”
He holds me so tight I think I might break, but I never want him to let go.
Below, the church bell tolls again, marking the hour. The city is just a blur of gold and blue through the window, the whole world tilted in our direction.
I bury my face in his chest, and for the first time ever, I know what happiness feels like.
It feels like this: the press of this man’s arms, the salt of his skin, the sound of his heartbeat echoing in my ear.
It feels like the future.