Dorsai - Jan

I moved between her legs, and leaned forward to put my hands on either side of her shoulders; she quickly reached down between us with her hands, using one to spread her labia, and the other to take hold of me and position me at her entrance. As we looked into each other's eyes, I firmly pressed my hips forward, and in a single, slow motion – she was still very wet from our previous encounter – slid my entire length into her, so that when I was done, my pubic bone was pressed against hers – and indirectly, her clitoris.

She removed her hands from between us, and put them around my waist, pulling at me to make sure that I was as far inside her as I could go. I eased myself out of her, until my glans was just barely inside the ring of muscle at her vaginal entrance, then pushed forward again, accompanied by her moan of pleasure. As I got close to filling her again, she arched her back slightly, so that when our pelvises touched, I was pressing more on her clitoris. To help get her aroused even more, I pressed forward in a couple of short, firm pushes, 'bumping' her clitoris; she responded by gasping in pleasure.

I slid out of her again, not as far, and then back in – a little faster, and a little firmer; the groan she released told me that that was what she wanted. So I did it again – faster and firmer still. Another groan, and again. In short order, I was pistoning in and out of her in quick, solid strokes, bumping against her clitoris each time I buried myself in her.

As I settled into a rhythm, I came to realize that the thing that seemed to be pleasing her most was the force with which I was entering her. I tested the idea by maintaining the speed I'd set, but not letting myself enter her so far – her reaction was a series of mildly frustrated moans, and pulling on my waist to encourage deeper penetration. The next thing I tried was penetration, but not so forcefully: for several strokes, as I felt myself approaching full entry in her, I slowed down slightly, so that I still filled her completely, but not as hard. Again, she moaned in frustration, finally telling me "Harder, dammit!"

At that point, I figured she knew what she wanted, and stopped holding back. Thinking that if I got too rough, she'd be just as willing to let me know that, too; I gave up a little speed in order to give her the 'enthusiasm' she wanted. I was soon thrusting into her solidly, our loins making a distinct slapping noise as they met – accompanied each time by a small grunt of pleasure from her. Even more than the slow lovemaking I'd used before, this was arousing her, tremendously: she was getting even wetter than she'd been before, and even pulled her knees back far enough to let her lock her ankles behind me. My efforts were taking a toll on my arms, though, and before long, I had to lower myself to my elbows. When I did, she quickly wrapped her arms around me, and raised her upper body so that her breasts and nipples brushed against my chest in time with my thrusting – giving both of us that much more stimulation.

Almost at the same time, we both looked down between us, to where we were joined, watching as my wet penis seemed to grow out of her clasping vaginal lips, then be swallowed up by them in turn. The sights and sounds and smells of our lovemaking seemed only to stimulate both of us to greater heights of passion and effort – we kissed, tongues dueling, and biting each others lips; I could feel it as she bit the side of my neck in her passion, knowing that I'd done the same to her shoulder a few moments before; we gasped out each others names; our bodies slid against each other as the sweat of our passion mingled, and slickened us. A few more minutes, and I knew that I was going to climax – and that it wasn't too far away.

Raising myself back onto my hands and arms, I increased the force with which I entered her, almost pounding into her hot, wet opening as she cried and shouted her pleasure at what I was doing to her, and raised herself up in welcome to my efforts. Her back was arched so much that both her shoulders and hips were completely free of the bed, and her arms were still wrapped around my back. Finally, I could stand it no more, and after slamming into her in a few last, slow thrusts, felt myself jetting my seminal fluid into her. As I did, I could feel her fingernails dig into my back as another orgasm hit her, making her almost scream with the power of it as it overloaded her senses. It felt as though I were squirting pints or quarts of semen into her, and the sensation of her vagina clamping down on me, and then going through a series of spasms that felt like waves of tightness running the length of my penis only made it that much stronger for me. I could have sworn that every one of my spasms of ejaculation was as strong as the first. But finally, I simply didn't have anything left to give to her, and nearly collapsed on her in exhaustion; only by supreme effort did I manage to stop myself at my elbows, so that I didn't crush her beneath me, even as she was reaching the end of her own release. When I felt her go limp beneath me, I managed to ease my rapidly deflating penis from her feminine grasp, and rolled over to the side to collapse on my back next to her, gasping for air, just as she was.

As my breathing slowed, I must have fallen asleep – I can only plead the short hours of the previous night, and the effort of making love to so many of them so many times prior to that.

When I awoke, it was to discover that Candice was laying on her side, next to me – her head on my shoulder (and breasts pressing into my side), one leg across mine (pubic hair brushing my hip), and her arm on my chest. Raising my head and looking down, I could see that she'd also apparently taken the time to wash me – and presumably, herself – clean of the evidence of our passion. As I lay my head back down, I could feel her stir next to me, and a moment later, her face came into view as she raised herself onto her elbow.

I could see the concern on her face as she looked down at me and asked "Are you okay? Or are you just tired?"

"Tired, I think.", I managed to whisper.

"I'm not surprised. While you were sleeping, I realized just how much, uh, activity you've had since we all got here yesterday, and how little sleep you must have gotten last night. I'm really sorry that I put you through all that this afternoon – I should have known better."

I licked my lips, and she quickly asked "Are you thirsty?"

I nodded, and started to sit up; she quickly put a hand on my shoulder to hold me down, saying "It's okay. I found something in the kitchen, so you can just lay there if you want, and still get something to drink."

With that, she reached over to the nightstand, and brought around a bottle – and when I saw it, I understood, and couldn't help but smile: she'd found the Crazy Straw that Kelly had insisted she needed when we were in a store one time. I refused at the time, but went back the next day to get it – and giving it to her as a surprise gift a few days later. Ever since then, she'd drag it out and use it to drink something she ordinarily wouldn't drink through a straw: wine, milk, even coffee once. And when she was through with it, would come over and sit on my lap, cuddling with me.

Candice had found it, and put it in a bottle of club soda, since it would make a serviceable 'sickbed' straw – it would bend enough to let a person on their back drink from it, but wouldn't hold it's shape when bent. When the tip was offered to me, I quickly managed to down nearly half the bottle before having to breathe again.

On the path to rehydration, I rested a few more minutes, then eased myself into a sitting position – despite Candice's objections and remonstrations. Once seated, I took the bottle from her, and finished off the drink; she quickly replaced it with a full one, moving the Crazy Straw in the process. I took a few swallows, and then smiled at her, saying "I was just tired there, for a bit. I'm feeling better now, okay?"