Page 20 of Rushed

Her little body is so tight, squeezing my cock so strongly, I don’t think I can hold out for too long. Pulling back on her hips, I drive into her with a need to fill her—to own her.

“Rush!” Digging her nails into the bedding, she pushes back against me again and again, meeting me stroke for stroke while screaming out her pleasure as I punish that ripe red arse of hers. I groan at the overload of pressure and pain as she squeezes me within. I’m a bigger guy, I know that, and it’s a lot to take, but she’s lost to the feeling and accepting it all.

Her sounds could rival a sex-chat line as she groans, purrs, growls, whimpers, and screams to my thrusts.

“Lincoln!” she yells out.

With that, I’m done. I can’t hold out. Pumping into her faster, I set the pace. Faster and faster, I rush as a string of curse words spill from her mouth.

“Feck!” I yell as I piston my hips a few more times. We release together in a heap of sweat, cum, and tense bodies.

“Wow,” I say, sated.

“You could say that again.” Giggling, her body shakes as she laughs on the bed.

After cleaning up my little package, we lie beside each other on the bed, weak. I couldn't move right now if I had to. Talk about working towards a lazy Sunday afternoon.

Now that did the trick.

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