away; it
can’t take the heat of this. I barely can.
My fingers drape over his head, clinging
to him. His hands grip my ass, lifting me up and down on his cock at the same
pace I ride him, but his arms encase me in him. We’re sweating and pressing
into each other’s faces, breathing each other’s exhales and sweat .
His teeth find my shoulder again, gently nibbling as he trails my neck to my
cheek. He reaches up, swallowing one of my boobs in his hand, massaging and
grinding into me and me him.
His shaft is long and thick and the ride
up and down rubs all the good spots inside me.
I move a little faster. Being on top I
control the one place I really want him to get to. I don't need his whole cock
for it so I bob.
“No.” His eyes shut for a second as he
shakes his head. “I’m gonna come, stop.”
Ignoring him, I quicken my pace, also
about to climax. His hands grip and try to pull me all the way down and hold me
still but my orgasm is here. I force the movements for us both, whimpering into
his ear and gripping his head as a second wave of everything hits me.
He realizes what’s happening and moves
with me, doing exactly what I want. But the moment I exhale through the last of
my orgasm, he’s done. He wants to fuck, or rather make me fuck him. I’m forced
to bounce on his balls while he thrusts like a warrior. It’s Game of Thrones but the Upper East Side
version. He holds me so tight I’m sure I’ll have bruises on my hips as he jerks
into me repeatedly.
When he’s completely done, we clench each
other, neither of us moving except to tremble and shudder with delight.
I don't know what to say because I don’t
know which version of us is the truth. One moment we were screaming and then we
were oddly and uncomfortably civil and now we’re this.
I insulted him and told him I hated him
and now he’s inside me in every way, and I have a feeling I’m inside of him.
I want to go back to oddly civil but I
don’t know how.
As I cling to him I feel like I might be
forbidding him to move because I don't want to face him. We didn't just fuck.
We did something else that I’m not comfortable with: we admitted something big
to each other with a stare. It’s as if he knows all my secrets. My eyes
betrayed me when they whispered them all to him. The way we gaped at each
other, got lost in each other, erases all the petty hate. It explains the
intense way I felt about him, good and bad. The passion is there between us,
whether we use it for good or bad, it’s there just like I knew it would be.
When we kissed in the cab two and a half years ago, I suspected this is what
this would be like and now we’re here.
“Sami?”
My eyes widen and I’m still panicking but
I whisper, “Yeah?”
“I’m gonna lose that condom inside you if
I don't pull out. Can you move?”
That's the first
thing he says?
I barely realize we’re still on planet
Earth, I can’t think straight just like he promised me, and that's all he has
to say?
A harsh realization hits me.
This is the kiss all over again.
I’m reading too much into the pleasure
and passion.
He’s good at kissing and good at fucking,
and I haven’t ever had that before so I’m a stage four virgin clinging to him.
He’s like this with everyone.
I’m making this all mean more than it
does. I’m just another girl in his limo to him, and he’s the best at everything
to me.
Shit.
It’s a one-night stand and I’m leaving
dissatisfied, but for the first time, it’s for the wrong reason. You can’t have
a one-night stand with someone you’ve had fantasies about dating. This was a
huge mistake.
“Yup,” I reply too chipper and weird as I
sit back and pound on the partition between the driver and us. The car stops
and I do the strangest thing I’ve ever done—okay, not the strangest but
not the smartest either. I grab my underwear, that I didn’t even realize he had
taken off, and open the door, stepping out, half naked like a baby deer
can’t take the heat of this. I barely can.
My fingers drape over his head, clinging
to him. His hands grip my ass, lifting me up and down on his cock at the same
pace I ride him, but his arms encase me in him. We’re sweating and pressing
into each other’s faces, breathing each other’s exhales and sweat .
His teeth find my shoulder again, gently nibbling as he trails my neck to my
cheek. He reaches up, swallowing one of my boobs in his hand, massaging and
grinding into me and me him.
His shaft is long and thick and the ride
up and down rubs all the good spots inside me.
I move a little faster. Being on top I
control the one place I really want him to get to. I don't need his whole cock
for it so I bob.
“No.” His eyes shut for a second as he
shakes his head. “I’m gonna come, stop.”
Ignoring him, I quicken my pace, also
about to climax. His hands grip and try to pull me all the way down and hold me
still but my orgasm is here. I force the movements for us both, whimpering into
his ear and gripping his head as a second wave of everything hits me.
He realizes what’s happening and moves
with me, doing exactly what I want. But the moment I exhale through the last of
my orgasm, he’s done. He wants to fuck, or rather make me fuck him. I’m forced
to bounce on his balls while he thrusts like a warrior. It’s Game of Thrones but the Upper East Side
version. He holds me so tight I’m sure I’ll have bruises on my hips as he jerks
into me repeatedly.
When he’s completely done, we clench each
other, neither of us moving except to tremble and shudder with delight.
I don't know what to say because I don’t
know which version of us is the truth. One moment we were screaming and then we
were oddly and uncomfortably civil and now we’re this.
I insulted him and told him I hated him
and now he’s inside me in every way, and I have a feeling I’m inside of him.
I want to go back to oddly civil but I
don’t know how.
As I cling to him I feel like I might be
forbidding him to move because I don't want to face him. We didn't just fuck.
We did something else that I’m not comfortable with: we admitted something big
to each other with a stare. It’s as if he knows all my secrets. My eyes
betrayed me when they whispered them all to him. The way we gaped at each
other, got lost in each other, erases all the petty hate. It explains the
intense way I felt about him, good and bad. The passion is there between us,
whether we use it for good or bad, it’s there just like I knew it would be.
When we kissed in the cab two and a half years ago, I suspected this is what
this would be like and now we’re here.
“Sami?”
My eyes widen and I’m still panicking but
I whisper, “Yeah?”
“I’m gonna lose that condom inside you if
I don't pull out. Can you move?”
That's the first
thing he says?
I barely realize we’re still on planet
Earth, I can’t think straight just like he promised me, and that's all he has
to say?
A harsh realization hits me.
This is the kiss all over again.
I’m reading too much into the pleasure
and passion.
He’s good at kissing and good at fucking,
and I haven’t ever had that before so I’m a stage four virgin clinging to him.
He’s like this with everyone.
I’m making this all mean more than it
does. I’m just another girl in his limo to him, and he’s the best at everything
to me.
Shit.
It’s a one-night stand and I’m leaving
dissatisfied, but for the first time, it’s for the wrong reason. You can’t have
a one-night stand with someone you’ve had fantasies about dating. This was a
huge mistake.
“Yup,” I reply too chipper and weird as I
sit back and pound on the partition between the driver and us. The car stops
and I do the strangest thing I’ve ever done—okay, not the strangest but
not the smartest either. I grab my underwear, that I didn’t even realize he had
taken off, and open the door, stepping out, half naked like a baby deer
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