Page 8 of I Replaced His Husband
It was a fierce need that just flooded me like a tsunami!
Normally, I’d never rush this. I’m 6’8", and I’m quite well-endowed; in any case, even if prepared, that couldn’t be comfortable, let alone safe. But this…was just like I was a man possessed, like something hit me in the back of my head!
Groaning, struggling, resisting, I tried to stop myself, and squeezed my eyes shut, but it was useless.
My body moved on its own, thrusting into Kay.
And the moment I bottomed out, something exploded.
I came, hard, so hard it felt like being electrocuted. I nearly saw white. Kay screamed, but then, shockingly, came too! His warm cum spurted all over my stomach, his back arching so sharply that all my weight was lifted onto his hips and spine.
Dizzy with pleasure and confusion, I moaned, feeling wave after wave of heat pouring from me, filling him up.
What the hell just happened?
It was something unreal. I’d never experienced anything remotely like that. I’d heard of ‘instant orgasms’ happening during intense heats, or in extremely rare, almost… miraculous situations of finding one’s half of the soul—a fated mate, though it couldn’t be that, since the event was also connected to some electric sparkles and discharges when the mates’ souls merged.
Still, it was incredible. Like a drunk person, I floated on the orgasmic waves, unable to form any clear thoughts. Too overwhelmed, too out of it.
But my premature orgasm should be addressed somehow, so I mumbled,
"Fuck! Sorry…" I glanced down at my T-shirt, now soaked in his cum. What’s more, I couldn’t believe he’d climaxed too, so quickly! His balls had to be nearly empty, he’d just come a few minutes ago. Twice!
Yet I could still feel his shaft twitching, spasming, pressing against my stomach, leaking tiny pulses of cum. His hole clenched around me so tight I couldn’t even move.
All I managed to whisper was, "Weird…" and since he didn’t answer, I didn’t push it. I felt dazed, unsteady.
Had that really just happened? Or had I imagined it?
Probably imagined it. Just another strange thing on a long list.
My dick didn’t go soft. I was still fully hard, which had never happened before. I was usually hypersensitive after I finished; even during a rut I was a little touchy there. So when my exwas at the peak of his heat, I always had to slow down for a few minutes before starting again.
But whatever. I wasn’t about to waste this weird but nice opportunity. I started moving slowly inside Kay, surprised at how good it still felt. No sting, no rawness like usual. Since I didn’t know if he was sore, I took my time, easing in and out, giving him space to adjust. But after maybe a minute of that gentle rhythm, I knew—don’t ask me how—I just knew he was fine, and that I could pick up the pace.
Hungry for more friction, I straightened up, pulled off my sticky T-shirt, pushed my pants further down my thighs, and grabbed his hips. Kay lay still, head turned to the side, his right gland now red and swollen from my sucking. His nipples were dark raspberry pink, his skin slick with sweat.
With a better grip, I was able to angle myself up, hitting his swollen prostate. Omegas have a prostate about twice the size of other subgenders, and the head of my dick kept grazing it. The upper wall of his passage was softer, spongier, and I focused right there, determined to give him another orgasm. It felt like a mission.
And I didn’t need much effort. The first firm stroke over his prostate made him whimper, just this soft, desperate little sound, while he arched his neck. Yes, he loved it, no denying it. His hands clenched into tight fists, gripping the sheets hard. I saw the veins pop in his neck. He was trying, with everything he had, not to make a sound.
"Let it go, Kay. Moan as much as you want," I murmured, watching him fight it. And like magic, he exhaled loudly, finally surrendering. He raised his hands, clasping a pillow behind his head, and just let it all happen.
His surrender turned something on in me. I started fucking him hard, fast, grinding against his prostate. Yes, this time,he finally didn’t hold back, moaning, gasping, whimpering. The sounds poured out of him.
And then the magic hit again.
He started to come.
The first time he came, it was after maybe three minutes of me rocking hard inside him. His poor balls didn’t have much left, but still, a few drops shot into the air. The second time came about four minutes later, after another round of steady pounding. He filled the room with a serenade of grunts, moans, gasps, and those sharp little squeals that slipped out when it got too good.
I held off on my own orgasm. Since I’d already come once, I still had some staying power, and I decided to make giving him another climax my mission. But after a few more minutes, I just couldn’t keep it in anymore. I was drenched in sweat, completely burning up, and all I wanted was to explode inside him like a goddamn volcano.
My hips started moving even faster, my throat releasing low, animalistic grunts with every push. Then it hit: my climax slammed into me hard. I bucked into him with a dozen deep, powerful thrusts, pumping into him with all I had. To my delight, he started coming too—not as wildly as before, but it lasted longer. His body tensed up, and his hole clenched around me in these slow, rolling spasms that almost kept me locked in place.
As the last blissful tremor passed, spent, I collapsed on top of him, laying my head against his neck. Panting, gasping for breath, completely boneless.
It felt like my body had been wrung out like a towel. I hadn’t had sex in a long time, not since my ex left, and the toll it took wasn’t just physical; it was emotional, too. My body was in some kind of shock.
