Terminator: Epilogue – 2

His tongue darts in, out and around my asshole until I’m moaning, and I feel the pressure of a cock about to enter my pussy. But it’s not him. I look over my shoulder. “What are you doing?” He’s starting to fuck me with a massive dildo. He always has toys around, but we never use them.

“I haven’t seen you in so long, I’m enjoying you,” he says. His eyes never leave my pussy, as he starts to fuck me with it, slooowly. I writhe against it getting wetter, and more aroused, but it’s so big around (think beer can) that it only gets a couple of inches in at first.  But then suddenly he slides it out of me, and wraps his arm around my waist and moves me further up the bed. I feel his stiff cock brush my ass. “I have to have you,” he says, bending me over.

He slides into me slowly and I moan because he feels so damn delicious. His long dark cock fits me so perfectly, and then some. He starts stroking me slowly, and as he pulls back I feel beads of sweat break out on my back. He plunges in again, and and I feel his fingers graze my spine from my neck down to my ass and he grinds into me and as he starts pumping we’re both panting and grunting and he suddenly pulls out and flips me onto my back and slams all the way into me, making me scream, and then starts pumping me mercilessly, deliciously, his cock hitting depths inside me that belong only to him.

My legs are wrapped around his waist, his hands are under my juicy ass and we’re staring into each other’s eyes with the same thought: This will never be over. We kiss, and I get all woozy — I feel the room spin around when I close my eyes — am I going to faint? From passion? “Are you o.k.,” he asks when he breaks the kiss. I don’t open my eyes or answer, just thrust my hips for him to continue. He moans and buries his face in my neck, pumping like a machine.

It’s so good, so hot, so tight, so deep, I start gushing (squirting), which drives him crazy, and he slams me harder. He’s fucking me like a piston and I’m screaming, and gushing and coming; we’re sweating, and grunting and biting until finally I come and come and come. I feel him completely loose control and pump me so hard it hurts as he comes, intensely.

We are a wet pile of limbs on the bed for a long while. I think we fell asleep.

Later.
There was so much to say, so much I wanted to know, so much I wanted to ask. But I was afraid of getting emotional and afraid of piercing his defenses. I kept it simple. “How are you?” I ask.
I am lying on my back and he is on his side next to me, his hand playing with my breasts, stroking my stomach, and idly stroking my pussy.

“I would have loved to have had a relationship with you,” he said. “But you said you didn’t want one and I just went along with it.”

“What?”

“You’re so hot, so smart, we’re so…compatible, that yeah.”

“You think I’m hot?” I actually said that. What am I, seventeen? I just have a hard time (still) believing the attraction between us. I’m 15 years older, but we were built for each other.

I recall the first conversation we had about feelings. I did say that I didn’t want a relationship when I brought up the feelings. Did I cheat myself out of something good?  (To be continued…)

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Terminator II

The craving went on much longer than it should have due to circumstances beyond our control, but on Tuesday the Terminator and I finally got together again.
“I kind of get the impression you wanted to jump me the minute I walked in the door,” I said when we were chatting in the bedroom.
We’re sitting on the bed and he’s leaning into me, trying to smoothly stare down my shirt and kiss me at the same time.
“Pretty much,” he laughs pulling me to him.
“Anticipation?” I ask, between hot kisses.
“Oh yeah, I’ve been waiting for this.” He bites my neck.

But our clothes stay on, and we have a hot make-out session, like a couple of horny teenagers. He loves to make out, and before long we we’re writhing on the bed, panting, kissing, biting, dry humping. He holds me close, drinking me in with his hands, his lips traveling from my mouth to my neck, my ears, my tits, igniting a trail of blazing trail of heat which I had no intention of resisting. I was like a bitch in heat, humping against him, biting him and licking him.  He  growl-like moans in my ear, make me even hotter for him.

I don’t remember how or when our clothes came off, but when we were naked he dove head first into my pussy like he belonged there. Soft. so soft, yet so insistent, his tongue alternately hard and aggressive, then soft and caressing, guiding me through waves of pleasure so mindless I lost my senses, aware only of his mouth and my pussy.  He stopped only to turn me over and continue the sweet assault, which was even better, if possible.

So began a day-long  encounter (7 hours) that finally satisfied (for the moment) our hunger for each other. The last time I spent all day in bed with a guy George Bush was President (you know, dickhead’s father).  I recommend it. I recommend it highly. Everyone should devote one day a week to having sex, it would make the world a better place. Peace would break out everywhere. Monday, Tuesday, Sexday…

The Terminator and I are a perfect match in stamina and appetite, but even so, the pleasure our bodies give and take from each other still stuns us. Several times when we pulled apart, breathless and sweaty, we would break into incredulous laughter.
Part of what made this time so much hotter was that I was more comfortable with him, not as guarded, and let myself go more in every way. I encouraged him to go harder, faster (or slower), wilder, etc., because I knew he was holding back last time.

Soon he had me on all fours, he was smacking my ass and pulling my hair, and I was almost sobbing with the pleasure of the onslaught, when he lowered me onto my side and entered me again from behind – delicious – pumping me senseless. I tend to close my eyes during the intensity of a great fuck, but something made me open them and he was pulling my hair out of the way so he could see my face.  He leaned in and kissed the side of my face. So Sweet.

Although he likes to dominate the action and I prefer it, I loved that I finally got  to ride him, and take him and abuse him too. Every time time he would try to speed it up, I would stop. No amount of begging would move me until I felt like moving. Then I would tighten around him and rotate my hips in a slooooow circle and then start riding him again, driving us both to the brink — and stopping again. I did this a few times until he couldn’t take it anymore and threw me on my back and fucked me so hard we almost fell off the bed.

When we took a break about three hours in, I thought of leaving. I said I was going to leave, but he took me in his arms and held me, kissed me, and we started talking. Before I knew it we were curled up under the covers, his arm around me and he was telling me his life story. Two things he hammered home, his unwillingness to cheat (“If I’m in a relationship, I will leave you before i cheat on you”), his devotion to his family (Parents, sibling, and extended family), and that he overcame a difficult chldhood.

I was fascinated by the story but as he was telling it to me I’m thinking: “Why is he trying to build intimacy with me? Why does he care If I know whether he cheats or not?” This isn’t the behavior of a Craigslist hookup. Am I glad he’s trying to connect more than bodies? Yes and no. Of course I want him to be into me, but I don’t want to get emotionally involved. This is a guy who must have women lining up to fuck him. I don’t want drama, I just want fun.

“I’m sorry, did I delay you?” he asked after we had been talking an hour or more. He didn’t look sorry in the least.

“No, don’t worry about it.” I said. We kissed. Suddenly his tool was prodding my thigh. “Sorry, it gets hard on contact,” he said.

“That’s a blessing, baby,” I said.

And then we started fucking again with a vengeance. As I said, I usually close my eyes because it helps me focus on the sensations, but I felt his eyes on me, and when I open mine, he is right there, in my face. It seems odd to put it like that since we were having sex. His eyes never left my face, intent on my reactions but also, I sense, trying to connect. He was going so deep and so delicious, I didn’t ever want him to stop. “God, I love the way you fuck me,” I said. “Not as much as I love fucking you,” he said.

Happy-happy-joy-joy.

I left his bed near dusk. Condom wrappers littered the floor like confetti…

Image: via Picjumbo CCO
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