Page 5 of Mayfly

She doesn’t move, instead she just stares at me with clouded eyes as I back away from her and sit on the ground with my back against the wall. Insisting she stays quiet, I press a finger to my lips and raise my other hand for her to take. Guiding her forward, she stands on either side of my legs, and I'm filled with a filthy sense of pride at the sight of her battered and blood covered pussy.

“Kneel,” I tell her, and she obeys.

Not allowing her to touch me, I take the base of my dick and instruct her to sit on me. To do it herself. To take as much time as she needs to get me back inside her.

As the head of my cock sinks into her, she winces, and I dig my fingers into her thighs to stop from bucking up. The squeeze is insane, almost like she’s gonna snap me off she’s so tight. Even with all her blood and arousal, the slick glide doesn’t help. It just tells my brain that she's ripe, and I should be destroying her instead of attempting to play the hero.

Once I’m all the way in, her breath shakes and her eyes shoot open, terrified that she’s made too much noise. It makes me want to slap her. But I resist. I’m not good at it, but it’s a luxury that was never afforded to me.

“Legs up.” I tap at her ankles and pull them forward until her feet are flat on the carpet. “Now lean back.”

With her bitten nails clinging to my legs, I grab her hips and rock her, watching her face as my cock drags along the inside of her cunt until uncertainty gives way tooh my god! What the fuck was that?

She wraps her lips around her teeth and allows me to continue manipulating her so she knows exactly what motion she’ll need in the future to find the spot again. But at this point her tears have stopped, and I'm getting nothing from the interaction.

Her pleasure couldn’t mean less to me. So I tell her to have a go for herself and let my eyes wander the room as she repositions.

With hands on my stomach, she feels her way until she finds a spot that’s good for her, then rides me with no sense of rhythm or urgency.

Her tits are small, and her bra is pretty, at least, but I’m running out of ways to keep my mind focused on staying hard.

Dragging my hand down my face to my neck, I feel the white gold links of my necklace chain through my gloves.

Closing my eyes, I see a small hand outstretched through the hole of a fence. It’s reaching for me. Its owner tells me that if I’m ever crying, I can come back and they’ll cheer me up.

The smell of damp earth and wood fills my nostrils.

I grip the chain and slide down until more gold pokes at my fingers, and I grip it.

“Don’t cry,”they tell me, pulling their shirt down over their hand to wipe away my tears.“Let me tell you a story.”

With eyes still closed, I find her waist with my free hand and hold her still.

She lets me take over again and I start driving up into her.

Clinging to my shoulders, her moans force their way inside my mind, and I try to push them away by focusing on the pendant. The metal. The way it stabs into my palm.

I squeeze harder and harder, trying with everything I have to remember every detail of their face.

The kind eyes.

The soothing softness of their voice.

The bruises peeking out of their hairline.

They were the only brightness in my world.

My only respite from the torture.

I always wanted to help them too, but I never knew how.

I was just as selfish then as I am now.

Frustrated that I still can’t come, I lift the girl off of me and force her on all fours.

Necklace in my mouth, the gold heavy on my tongue, I re-enter her to chase the high I know she needs from me.

The pendant clinks against my teeth as I pick up speed, drawing her forward, then back to meet my thrusts.

---