Duncan Fox: Spread wide and tied

"Try two fingers," she moaned, squeezing his cock. The music from the record player swirled crazily, formed a background for her lust.

She felt her cunt stretch as he complied. She knew the greater bulk was going to increase her appetite. His warm palm cupped the soft mound of her pussy, gently pressing her clit against her pubic arch. His fingers stirred in her juicy cavern.

She wished he'd hurry up. She was starving for the shaft in her hand. Her gut was a solid ache of hunger. She dragged on the stiff shaft, tried to pull it toward her pussy. She imagined being spread eagled under him, pinned like a bug, while he fucked her. Her cunt flooded in reaction. She wanted him to rape her, to ravish her.

She rolled to her back, and dragged him over on top of her. She spread her thighs and pushed his hand out of the way. She guided the head of his cock to her twat and squirmed, nuzzled him into her hot crease. She hauled on his firm butt, managed to get part of his cock into her. There was a slight burning sensation because of his bulk.

"Are you safe?" he asked abruptly, pushing up. He looked down at her. His cock was tormenting her with its partial penetration.

"Yes," she moaned, managing to avoid cursing his rotten timing. "Yes. I'm on the pill."

He lay back down on her, and his cock burrowed into her cunt slowly. She writhed insanely. She wanted to get the whole mammoth thing all at once, but his hesitancy made it impossible. She wanted him to do it hard, quick and fast. But she couldn't ask him. She clutched at him, dragged on his tail. She spread her legs wide as he drilled his cock into her burning bush.

Her hips thrust up against him as he penetrated her dripping depths. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, but not as hard as she wanted them to be. He kept treating her as if she were fragile, kept holding back. He kept his full weight up off her until she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down hard. Her boobs ached deliciously from the pressure.

Finally, his cock nudged the end of her tunnel, and his pubic bone pound against her clit. She moaned ecstatically.

"You okay?" he asked anxiously.

"Fuck me," she groaned, cursing him mentally. How could someone so damn big be so damn gentle? Why couldn't he assert himself! "Fuck me," she repeated.

He drew out of her, then pushed back in. Her hips heaved under him. She convulsed from the feel of his cock sliding along her clutching cunt walls. She heaved in reaction when his pubic arch hit her clit.

"Fuck me," she moaned as his cock pistoned in her cunt. Her hips went wild, started a mad jumping, twisting motion. "Fuck me!"

He continued to push into her in a gentle, semi-mechanical manner. She was blazing from the feel of his cock pistoning in her, but wished that he would turn his animal urges loose and really hammer her.

She was rising toward a crest, but too slowly. She was being driven by the need to reach the peak, to hit the explosion point. It was like a spring was being wound tighter and tighter and tighter inside her. Finally, it would have to let go and would fly apart into glittering fragments. Every stroke of the cock in her cunt drove her nearer the breaking point, but slowly, too slowly.

Wil began panting. His breath huffed against her ear as he fucked her faster and faster. The little core of self-control in his screwing remained. He humped and humped. Then he slowed, paused, and humped again. He drove his cockhead deep into her cunt.

She moaned with frustration as she felt his cock begin to spasm. She felt the hot squirts of his semen deep inside her, and shuddered. She was just short of her own release. She clutched desperately at him. Her hips heaved and writhed as she struggled to peak. She failed. He flooded her with cream.

With a groan of exhaustion, he relaxed wearily, pressed her into the hard rug. Dissatisfaction and frustration eating at her like a worm, she lay under him and felt his cock shrivel in her velvet clutches. Then, again too soon, he heaved off of her.

They were self-conscious about their nakedness as they retreated to separate easy chairs. She couldn't help noticing that his cock was already expanding again. She wondered just how much experience Wil really had. She had known him four years, the whole time he was in college. He had graduated and was working in the city. They had started dating a few months before.

The drink tasted great. The whiskey warmed her insides as she slouched wearily. She was still horny, and was encouraged by the sight of his rapidly reviving cock. Maybe next time would be better.

"It was good, wasn't it?" he asked anxiously. "It was good," she answered, telling herself she wasn't really lying. It was only her third time after all, and it had been as good as the first two. Better than the first time… and better than the second, too.

The first time had hurt. The second time, the same night with the same guy, hadn't been much better. It had been less painful at least, but still disappointing.

"You still seeing Grant?" Wil asked.

"No." She hadn't seen him since he had taken her virginity. The carnal act had destroyed the relationship. She wondered what sex would do to her and Wil.

As they talked of this and that, she became aware of shouting from a neighboring apartment.

"Grant Powell," Wil noted, and made a sour face.

"I can replace you in five minutes, bitch!" Grant yelled. There was a low, mumbled reply.

"Five minutes. Want to see me do it? Give me the phone. I'll show you."

There was the sound of a door opening. "So go ahead and replace me!" the girl screamed. "You're crazy. I ain't gonna stay around for your kinky junk!" The door slammed and footsteps retreated down the hallway.

"Guy changes girls like I change my socks," Wil noted. "I'm hungry. How about I order a pizza?"

"Okay," Clara agreed, intrigued by the argument they had overhead.

"Any special kind?"

"No. Just no onions," she said, thinking of the hopes she had for the rest of the evening. "And no green peppers or anchovies, either."

"Plain? Or pepperoni?"

"Either's fine."

"What's your neighbor like?" Clara asked later as they settled down to eat. They were still nude. She had a hard time keeping her eyes off Wil's seemingly perpetual erection.

"He's okay, I guess," Wil answered. "Though like I said, he goes through girls at an incredible rate. And he throws wild parties."

"Wild?" Clara asked, intrigued.

"Sexy wild," Wil answered. "Orgies, really."

"Oh, have you been to one?"

"No. I just hear them sometimes. I can smell the pot, too."

"I've never smoked pot."

"Me either," Wil said. "You want that last piece of pizza?"

"It's yours," Clara said, wiping her greasy hands on a towel. They were sitting on the floor by the coffee table, leaning back against the sofa-bed. Now the hunger in her belly was satisfied, the hunger in her crotch could be dealt with. She wondered if Wil would make the first move, or if she would have to.

The whole scene was stained, unnatural. There was also a sexiness to it, sort of a slowly building pressure. The tea towel covered the sodden curls of her twat and emphasized her, nudity. Wil's cock was a rigid, towering exclamation point of horniness. But he didn't seem inclined to do anything about it.

"Hey, Wil, you in there?" Grant's voice came through the closed window and drawn blind.

"Ahhh, shit," Wil snorted, getting to his feet and going over to the window. With a clatter of slats be pushed the blind aside and raised the window. A gust of chill air raised goose-bumps all over Clara's body. She moved out of sight of the window.

"What do you want?" Wil asked.

"What're you doing?" Grant asked.

"What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?"

"Taking a shower?"