11. Spelunk His Junk
SPELUNK HIS JUNK
JO
The feeling of him, the sound of him. It’s illicit, erotic. I’m in a cave getting fucked by a mountain.
He pushes a little deeper into me and I cry out.
He’s smooth there, like cool polished marble pushing into me.
There’s a ripping sound, and I realize he’s torn through my shorts and my underwear now to penetrate me with his heavy hard rock.
His walls seem to almost ripple around me.
My thighs are urged further apart as he presses a little deeper, and a little thicker into me.
Until I am stretched fully around him, the sharp press of pain reminding me of my limit. Mitchell seems to sense my tensing.
“Can you take more of me, my Jo?”
“It’s good, you’re so good.”
He shifts inside me and my body clenches. He pulls out, and then thrusts back in, pushing me all the way to my limit in one swift thrust. My whole body jerks forward to get caught against the lip of his tunnel. I spread my arms out, catching myself on the walls.
“Yes.” The mountain groans. “Touch me just like that. Stroke me, Jo.”
He gives careful instructions even as he thrusts into me over and over.
The wet noises coming from between my legs echo through the tunnel behind me.
My desperate whines fill the tunnel in front of me.
The middle caught around my waist, holding me tight and firm as the mountain fucks me.
Taking me at his own pace, holding me captive, completely at his mercy.
He is rougher, harder, and more solid than any man, any dick I’ve ever had before.
But the scrape of him is perfectly harsh.
It draws attention to each time he buries himself to me, finding that perfect tight peak.
It’s all I can do to shutter and moan inside his, and around him.
Stroking his velvety slit walls as he trembles and thrusts.