Loading...She came out of the bathroom wearing her black vinyl dress, black mesh stockings, and black heels, and she stood in the light from the bathroom door regarding me with a mixture of shyness and challenge, letting me look at her, enjoying my reaction. I might have smiled. I certainly felt like smiling. She was dressed now and ready.
She’d touched up the small amount of makeup she wore and brushed out her dark hair and now she was ready for me.
These were her sexy clothes that she wore only for me. This was my outfit, and she had put it on for our last night together.
One leather cuff was buckled around her left wrist, but she held the other in her hand to show me. A strap was broken.
“I couldn’t get it on.” she said apologetically.
“Come here. I’ll do it.”
She walked over and stood by me, her dress rustling slightly. She held her pale wrist up while I buckled the cuff around it and I could feel her warmth and her nervousness. I could smell the slight hint of her perfume. She usually didn’t wear scent, the perfume was for me too. I’d told her it would help me remember her when I was gone, and that I really wanted to remember her.
She was my Star girl. I won’t tell you her name. From her earliest years she had been fascinated by the stars, by what was up there far above our heads and far, far away. There was a purity there and a mystery that called to her and that had only increased as she grew older and more capable of understanding the immense and staggering distances, the power and terrible beauty of the deep skies, where imagination faltered and reason itself seemed to lose its grip. It was a fascination she still held, and which I teased her about. But behind the teasing I came to associate her with the starry skies, her dark hair, her sense of self-possession, even now, when there was so much between us
I’d gone through my own phase of fascination with the cosmos, but I was older than she, much older, and at some point I’d finally turned away from the immensity of space as being too inhuman and frightening for me. Now I liked my cosmology with a more human face, and I took a special satisfaction in thinking about the wide belt of the zodiac, the wandering planets beaming their mysterious influences on our poor earthbound lives, the stars in their courses brought down into the realm of the mundane: Venus on her voluptuous sofa, the Sun in his brilliant glory, the mysterious moon with her baleful influence, ghosting through the night sky. I didn’t believe in the predictive power of astrology, but neither did I disbelieve. I was comfortable with things neither true nor false, right nor wrong.
She still concentrated on the reality of the stars as physical objects, as objective facts. She was comfortable with objective facts, and she was good with them. It always took some doing to convince her to enter this shadowy realm of half-understood emotion with me, where things didn’t always make sense, where dream logic was the only rule. This was where I lived now. This was where I was master. Where she saw stars, I saw the empty space between them.
It might have been the influence of the stars that first brought us together. Certainly our finding each other had something of the miraculous about it, a feeling of predestination or fate, Even so it was a doomed relationship and had been from the start; there was no place for it to go. That didn’t make it any less intense though. My desire for her was enough to bring me back to her town, under these stars, to be with her again, even though she had to snatch the time away from her ordinary life to spend these nights with me.
This was the last night. That’s why it was special. And that’s why I remember that the Sun was in the sign of the Twins, and, at this time, as I buckled the other slave cuff to her wrist, the Goat was rising on the horizon with his two horns, one of Triumph, the other of wasted effort.
She slid the cuff around her wrist, seeing that it wasn’t too tight, and waited for me to tell her what to do. I knew that the feel of the leather on her wrists excited her.
“Do you want me on the bed?” she asked.
“No. Not now. For now just stay here.”
We were standing near the dresser, and I could look over her shoulder and see the reflection of her back in the mirror. I didn’t know exactly what I was going to do with her, we didn’t have a plan. We didn’t script these sessions, they developed naturally as one thing led to the next and we fed off each other’s responses and our rising desires. Perhaps we were influenced by the stars as well, or the near planets, perhaps some phantom rays from the gibbous moon decided what we’d do that night. Or perhaps it was just the sight of her dark hair, her black dress, her pale skin in the mirror.
“Turn.” I said, guiding her to face the mirror so that her back was to me. I could see her face, see my own face peering back at me, eclipsed partially by her dark fall of hair.
We both of us looked at her, both of us excited by the tightness of her clothes and the way the vinyl hugged her body.
“I don’t want you to touch me.” I said to her. “Do you understand?”
She nodded.
My hands slid slowly up over her hips, her waist, came around front and over her breasts. All the time I watched her face in the mirror, and she watched my hands touching her.
“I like to see my hands on you.” I said to her. “I like to feel you but I like to see my hands on you too. It makes me feel like you’re mine.”
She said nothing but I could feel the steady rise of her chest as she watched my hands tighten on her breasts, the vinyl crumpling under my fingers. I could feel her warmth through the dress and the softness of her flesh. I put my face in her hair, inhaled deeply, and tightened my hands on her.
She had taught me herself how she liked to be touched but it had never really been necessary. It was instinctive to me. I could feel in her body what she wanted, she rarely had to tell me. It was some magical connection between us. It had always been like that between us.
In her normal life she never got to play like this, never dressed up for anyone, never got to show this side of herself. In her normal life of study and accomplishment she gave no hint that there was this other aspect of her personality. It was something only I knew about and it made it that much more delicious to know.
She was good at what she did, but the stars were just a hobby for her. It was not what she studied in school. There was no living to be made from astronomy, no jobs to be had, and so she pursued another subject in another discipline, one just as difficult but one much more rooted in the earth, as she was. It made terrible demands on her and precluded her ever doing anything like this. For this we both had to carve out hollows in our lives
I released her breasts, and with one finger I traced a long slow line from her throat, down the bare skin of her chest, down to the first snap that held the dress closed, and then farther down, between her breasts, over her stomach, her hips, over the mound of her sex. It was a slow, languorous caress, and one that made her aware of her vulnerability and her submission. For the next few hours, as the stars rode in their invariable courses through the night sky, she would be mine. I would own her.
Her lips opened but she made no sound. Her eyes were on her image in the mirror, watching nervously as my hands slid up the row of snaps that ran down the front of the dress. I took hold of the lapels.
I pulled the first snap open. The tops of her breasts were now visible, the rounded swell exaggerated by the tight embrace of the vinyl.
I pulled again and the next two snaps parted. She did her best to remain still as I exposed her body, watching what I was doing to her as I undid her dress, as if she were not even the one who was being undressed. The girl in the mirror might well be a stranger for all the emotion she showed, but I knew better. It excited her to see herself touched and undressed like this.
I held the dress closed, the fabric between my fingers, and then pulled it slowly open, the snaps popping one by one, laying her bare from her chest to her waist..
She watched with seeming dispassion, but I could see the subtle signs of arousal, the way her nostrils flared, the quickness to her breathing, The feeling of power I had over her made my cock harden against the soft pressure of her ass.
This wasn’t the way we usually made love. More often it was fast and hungry, a sustained explosion of desire; my aggression and her surrender. But always it had this intensity, whether fast or slow. This torturous slowness was something she especially liked, slowly exposed to herself, watching herself be aroused, watching as I shamed her with her own pleasure.
I had stopped trying to understand it long ago. I didn’t care about understanding anything anymore. I only cared about experiencing, about losing myself in that experience. She was the one who still believed in reasons and explanations, in making plans, in being sensible and reasonable. But she was the one who had come to me when she wanted to explore these shadows, and put herself in my hands. I knew the way, and she was willing to follow me and see what I could show her..
Her plunge into the irrational excited her as well, but she would never stay there long. She had things to do in the world of careers and sense and success and this was only a diversion to her, or so she thought. I suspected otherwise, that she had a dark side herself that she’d glimpsed but never looked at. She had me to do that. That’s what I was for.
The dress was open, and my hands found her breasts, filled themselves with her flesh, squeezing her, feeling her softness. She moaned softly in pleasure and let her head fall back against me. She stared down at my hands on her naked breasts, looking from one to the other. I felt her start to reach instinctively behind her for my cock.
“Don’t touch me.” I said again, squeezing her breasts for emphasis. “Remember what I said. I don’t want you to touch me.”
I wanted her to have to stand here in the light from the bathroom and be caressed by my hands emerging from the shadows. I didn’t want her to reciprocate. I wanted her to feel like an object, as if her body was something being used by someone she couldn’t see. It was as if what she wanted didn’t matter.
I worked the sleeves down her arms and off, letting the top of the dress hang from her waist, then I slid my hands down her smooth arms and brought her wrists, secure in their leather cuffs, behind her.
“Stay here.” I said. I went to my bag and found a sturdy, chrome, double-ended clip. I went back to her and fastened her wrists together, the clip locking shut with a satisfying snap.
Immediately she tugged at her bonds, making sure her wrists were securely locked together. She demanded that what we do always be real, that ropes be tight and shackles strong, and I always obliged her. This wasn’t play to me.
I pulled her back against me so that she was forced again to look into the mirror, naked from the waist up, her arms pinned behind her. I stood there as she watched my hands roaming over her bare skin.
“Look at yourself.” I said. “Look at your body. You know what you’re made for?”
She was excited but she wouldn’t show it. She was looking at her reflection with a kind of detached arrogance, as if contemptuous of her body. She didn’t answer.
I took her breasts in my hands and stroked them, then reached down over her waist, took the dress and pulled it completely open, popping the rest of the snaps. I held it around her for a moment so that her pale skin was framed against the black of the dress, then let it drop, leaving her naked except for her stockings and shoes.
She had shaved for me as a special favor, and the slit of her pussy was visible where it emerged from between her legs, tentative and mysterious.
She twitched slightly as my fingers slid over her stomach and took up positions on either side of her cunt. I pulled her softly apart.
She tried to hold back the gasp as I touched her but she couldn’t. Her eyes were on her reflection as I opened her labia and exposed the wet, pink flesh inside.
“Look at yourself.” I said again. “Look at how fucking beautiful you are!”
I meant it. I held her pussy open so she could not miss the sight of herself, open and exposed. It made her blush, and aroused her too. I could see her face in the mirror. It was as if she were looking at another girl’s body.
“You don’t even know what you are, do you?” I asked her.
I caught the fleeting look of surprise in her eyes,
“Whatever you think you are,” I said, “You’re wrong.”
Her eyes caught mine in the mirror and I could see her look of confusion. She didn’t know what I was talking about and it scared her. She didn’t like being confused, but how could she know? She was too young to know anything.
“Should I show you what you are?” I asked again.
I touched the tip of my finger against the exposed inner wetness of her cunt, just barely touching her, and she jumped reflexively.
“Tell me now!” I said urgently. “What are you made for?”
This was a question she could answer, a standard question I asked her in our play
“For you!” she said, turning her head against me. “For you!”
I smiled. That was not the usual answer but it would do. She was still a little shy, a little too excited to let go completely. It always took time to get her from her normal persona to where I wanted her, but it was always a wonderfully exciting transformation. It was the journey, in fact, that was so intensely arousing.
“You know what I should do?” I asked, my lips next to her ear. “I should let everyone in your department see you like this. Do you think they’d like that? Do you think you’d like that? I bet you would.”
This was standard play, giving her something to imagine. I took my hands away from her pussy and let her relax against me as I massaged her breasts, listening to her breathing increase. I knew that she was turning the image over in her mind, the image of her showing her body like this to her teachers, her peers, or letting them see that dark side of herself.
Her breasts were soft yet firm and they felt like nothing so much as the essence of her body, sensual, yielding. I stroked them, drawing up from the base towards the tips, slowly, repeating the motion until I touched her nipples, and then I drew my fingers in circles, orbiting the tips, not touching her
I pulled her to me again and stroked her cunt and her hips pushed lewdly against my hand. She grunted softly and squeezed her thighs together, trapping my hand against her pussy. I knew she didn’t mean to stop me, it was a reflex action. My fingers had already worked her open and were exploring her wetness, smearing it around on her and calling forth more of her own secretions.
I held her still by one breast with my other hand fondling her sex and I pushed my face into the spreading veil of her night-black hair, inhaling her fragrance.
If I could have stopped time forever at this point I would have been content. I was hot, hard, and potent, my cock aching against her ass, and she was warm and alive in my hands, defenseless, giving herself to me and willing to be taken. If I could have stopped time at that point there’d have been no ending, no parting, nothing but what was about to be. The stars would freeze in their courses, the sky stop still and time would swirl about is in an endless loop of sensuality, she about to be taken, me about to take her.
I pulled her head back against my chest, turned her face to the side and reached down to kiss her hungrily, awkwardly, not caring if I was rough, knowing she wanted it this way, passionate, intense. She opened her mouth and her tongue pushed its way into mine. In the privacy of the kiss she showed me just how excited she really was. It was the first sign I had of her arousal and it excited me terribly.
My hands were all over her, stroking her, pinching, pushing into her, dragging across the smoothness of her skin, the terribly feminine curve of her hip. She gasped softly and twisted in my embrace as she always did, trying her strength against mine, wanting to know that I wouldn’t let her go, wouldn’t let her escape no matter how she fought. She would be mine, but she wanted to feel the strength I was prepared to use against her. I would have to take from her before she gave herself to me.
It was always like this but tonight was different. Capricorn was rising and the Moon was exalted in Cancer, and I felt the cold and lonely light of the stars beating down on me and making my need for her that much greater. They were her stars, she knew them by name in all their cold and perfect beauty, but now here in this room they seemed to beat down on us with a savage light, filled with lust and human desire. I knew this would be our last night together for now, maybe for ever, and that knowledge filled me with a terrible anguish and longing for her.
The moon, the mistress of all things hidden and occult, had risen above the darkened roofs of her city and was making her way through the house of the crab: secrets, secrets and possessions, a world filled with water. I pulled her back over my chest and devoured her mouth with my own, aching for her, tasting her, wanting her secrets too, all she might ever have.
Then I let her go of her.
She was breathing hard, her wrists pinned behind her back, confused by the kiss and by what she was feeling, not knowing what I would do with her. I could see us in the mirror, see my face partially hidden in shadow over her shoulder. With her arms back she stood proudly, but I knew she was excited. I could see it in the way she breathed.
When I had first met her there was no sign that she was like this inside, no sign that she was different than any other graduate student on this campus, dedicated, overworked, with no time for herself. She had told me she had no time even to feel sexual, that she never thought about it; it was always work and study, her mind always in her books or in the stars. But look at her now.
“Do you want me?” I asked her as I held her by the shoulders.
“Yes.” She said.
“No, that’s not good enough.”
She tried to laugh. “What do you want me to say?”
I slid my hands around her and took her breasts.
“I want you to tell me that you want me.” I said
“I told you I did.”
I took her nipples between my thumbs and the sides of my forefingers and squeezed, not too hard, looking for that place between discomfort and pain. When I found it, she stiffened.
“Do you want me?”
“Yes, yes.” She whispered urgently
I squeezed harder and she gasped, bringing her shoulders up. I was pinching her now and I felt her shudder. Her fingers tied to claw at me.
“Tell me.” I said.
She held on for a moment more and then she broke. “Oh God yes.” she said. “I want you to fuck me. I want your cock. Please.”
That was I wanted to hear. I relaxed my grip, turned her to me and kissed her nipples to soothe them, running my tongue over them. My other hand went to her pussy and found her wet and ready.
I let go of her and stepped back. She could still see me in the mirror as I kicked off my shoes and socks, unbuttoned my shirt and let it fall. I skinned down my pants and shorts and freed my cock, then I embraced her from behind again, my hard prick bending against her ass..
“You can touch me now.” I said to her, and I felt her hands scrambling to try and get a purchase on me. She could just get two fingers and a thumb on my cock and she squeezed.
“Oh God you’re so hard!”
“Yes I’m hard. I’m hard for you. I’m hard because I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to fuck you like a whore, like I paid for you and own you, and you’re going to give me anything I want, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” She said. “Anything you want.”
What I wanted was her attention, constant, always on me. I wanted the same attention she gave to her stars. What I wanted was her fascination, her affection, the dreams she had about them, the beauty she saw in them. But I didn’t tell her that. I knew I’d never get it.
But if I couldn’t be up there with her stars, I would settle for bringing her down to earth where I was, just long enough for me to take what I wanted from her. It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was what I could get.
I still wasn’t sure what I was going to do with her. She noticed me looking at the bed, the armchair. She was anxious.
“Do you want me on the bed?” she asked me.
“No.” I said. “Stay where you were. In front of the mirror.”
It was all the same to her. She was no longer in control of what happened. She would cede that to me,
“Face the mirror, just like you were.” I said, and she turned her back to me.
I embraced her as before, this time with our naked bodies touching, my erect cock wetting her ass with its secretions, the smoothness of her back against my hairy chest as I again caressed her breasts and kissed the back of her neck, her shoulders. She brought her shoulders up to protect herself and I felt the goose flesh on the backs of her arms caused by my kisses. I found her nipples again, took them between my fingers and again slowly squeezed them until I knew I must be hurting her. I could see her face clenched tight as she fought the pain, and then she made just the smallest sound, the smallest acknowledgement that I’d hurt her.
I was flooded by a wild passion I can’t explain, I kissed her, I kissed her shoulders, her back. That small whimper of pain, of acknowledgement set me off and over the edge. I had to have her, totally.
I took hold of the back of her neck and pushed her down until she was bent over the dresser lying on her chest, her ass in the air. I could see the pink flesh of her cunt nestled at the bottom of her dark crack, naked and moist, and oasis of glistening lust in the dim light, the bands of pale thigh above the tops of her black stockings.
She was breathing hard, panting, embarrassed and excited at being so exposed. She kept her legs straight and slightly apart, the curves of her calves accented by the heels she wore.
I sank down behind her, grabbed her thighs and reached my tongue out shamelessly for her cunt, hungry to taste her musk. I could barely reach her though and I pulled her ass back against my mouth, trying to shove my tongue into her asshole, making her utter a sharp squeal of surprise and dismay at the obscenity of what I was doing. I didn’t care. I couldn’t get enough of her. I wanted her inside and out, everything she had.
Her distance, her remoteness drove me wild, even as I shoved my tongue into her most secret place, shaming her and exciting her at the same time.
All she wanted was the stars in their regal glory, and what she got was her lover on his knees behind her, his face pressed animal-like into the crevice of her ass, licking her, tasting her as I held my hard cock in my hand and masturbated to her, the pre-sexual lubricant dripping over my knuckles.
It still wasn’t enough for me. Eating her wasn’t enough. I shoved my nose into her ass and licked her cunt from behind like a dog licks a bitch. I licked her and beat off and without warning I slapped her ass hard.
“Oww!” She moaned, rising up on her toes. Her bound hands were right above my head. I saw them twisting in protest.
“Oww! No! Please!”
I ignored her. This is what she wanted, just as much as I wanted to give it to her. This was the thing that had brought us together, the thing I never let her forget. She wanted sex like this: hard, violent and savage. Sex that took and hurt.
I slapped her again, and again, grabbed her cheeks and separated the pale moons of her ass so I could drink deeper of the dark nectar that flowed now with her growing excitement. Soon she would be there, she would be ready, and I slapped her ass again and again.
“Oh God!” she moaned, “Yes, please! Stop!”
“You hot bitch!” I hissed at her from my knees. “You cunt! You love this, don’t you? You love having me eating your ass and spanking you, because you’re such a slut, don’t you? Tell me! Tell me you’re a slut!”
“Oh God!” she moaned again. “No, no!”
She could have stopped me. She knew the safe word. It was her own full name, the last thing she would ever forget. She just had to tell me her name, the name everyone knew her by, and I would stop. I would remember who she was and stop. But until she said that, she was mine, and her protests didn’t mean anything. This was what she wanted too.
I spanked her until my hand hurt, until she was lying helplessly across the dresser, biting her lip, her face red and hot with excitement. With each slap she mewled helplessly and her buttocks trembled. The red print of my hand was visible on her even in the dim light of the room. I had to exert myself to stop.
I knew what I would do now. I knew what I would do with her on our last night together.
“Stay there.” I said. “Don’t you fucking move!”
The lubricant was in my bag, unopened. It was thicker than normal lubricant, made to stay on her skin, and she moaned when she felt its coldness on her anus.
“No!” she said. “No! I can’t do that!”
“Quiet!” I ordered her. I slapped her again.
I smeared more lube over my cock, and then on my finger. I bent down behind her and pressed my finger against her asshole.
“No!” she moaned. “Oh no! Ohhhh!”
My finger popped into the tight orifice, and she jerked forward, her mouth open in shock. She rested her cheek on the cool top of the dresser and groaned as I rotated my finger slowly inside her.
I left it like that until her rapid breathing slowed, then I moved my finger inside her. She was slick with grease, hot. I would stretch her a little bit, arouse her, and when she was ready I would put another finger inside her and get her used to that. I had never done this with her but I had done this before. I knew the routine, and I wanted this from her. I wanted her to remember me.
She couldn’t think of the stars now. The constellations wheeled slowly overhead, the fixed signs of the zodiac in regal procession. In this room in this hotel I smeared lubricant on my hard prick and prepared to fuck the ass of this girl whom I loved so hopelessly, hoping that by making her feel my desire she would also feel my heart, my inexpressible joy for her.
I don’t know what I am. I don’t know what love is or what the stars are like in their remote perfection. I only know that I had to have her like this, that I was rooted helplessly in the earth and that I had to have her like this.
“Oh GOD!” she screamed as the head of my cock pushed inside her. “Oh God, go slow! Go slow! Please!”
She was panting like a woman in labor, frantic, her teeth clenched. Her buttocks quivered from the strain as I pushed my thickness into her body.
“Do you want me to stop?” I asked her, breathing hard. I would have stopped then had she asked me to, safe word or no. The point was to have her, not to hurt her..
“No!” she snapped. “Just go slow. Please. You’re so big!”
Everyone’s big when they’re trying to get into your ass.
“Are you sure?” I asked again.
She licked her lips and nodded. “I want this.” she said. “I want you like this. Just go slow.”
It would have been easier to stop altogether than to go slow. I tried to hold still as she quivered beneath me, adjusting to me. She wanted to do this for me, to hurt like this for me.
Slowly I could feel the tides changing in my blood. I could feel them changing in her body as well, as she grew accustomed to me. She put her cheek down on the dresser and I looked at her face, beautiful and savage, no longer in pain. My cock was up her ass, where no one had been, not like this. No one had ever owned her like I did then. Others might own her, might have a claim on her body. Other things might have a claim on her heart. But at that time and that place no one owned her like I did. I was her entire world.
Things are hidden. There are secrets in the earth and in the lights of heaven. I flexed my cock within her and she squeezed me back so hard she made me gasp. I saw her smile a wicked smile. She was showing me she wasn’t helpless. She could bite me back.
If it was war she wanted, she had no chance. I grabbed her hips and pulled her against me and another inch of my cock disappeared into her rectum. She cried out and lifted her leg as if she were going to kick back at me to try and dislodge me. Her arms were pinioned behind her back and she clawed at my stomach with her nails, her hands twisting in her bonds.
“Slow!” she cried out. ”Please!”
I pulled her head back by her dark, rich hair. “No.” I said. “That’s enough time. You’re ready. You’re ready aren’t you?
Her mouth is open but she doesn’t say anything as I pull slightly out of her and push into her ass again. Her mouth twists into a feral snarl. “Oh Fuck!” she spits. “Oh God it feels so fucking dirty!”
“It is dirty, baby.” I whisper. “My prick is in your ass. All the way. How do you like it?”
She bites her lip and whimpers.
“What are you doing to me?” she moans. “You treat me like such a whore! This is so bad! It’s so wrong! Fuck me! Just fuck me!”
I can look down and see where my cock disappears beneath the moon-white globes of her ass. I know it hurts her, stretching her like this, but she loves it too. She loves to hurt for me. That’s why she loves me, because I hurt her and make her feel so wonderfully dirty.
Oh God she feels so good! Her young, tight ass, my prick inside her, the look of animal lust on her face. Already there are beads of sweat on her forehead and wisps of her dark hair are stuck to her face. I can reach beneath her and find her heavy naked breasts where they’re pressed against the smooth top of the dresser and I fill my hands with them, catching her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers.
“Oh yes!” she says through clenched teeth. “Do it to me. Pinch them! Hurt me! Make me bad for you baby. Make me bad!”
It’s what she always tells me: make me bad, hurt me, show me how dirty I am, what a whore I am. As if she needs a vacation from her stars, from their awful inhuman purity. She wants to be down here, feeling my cock in her ass, my hands on her nipples, reminding her of her body, of the clay we’re made of, our own brief mortality, of the exquisite pleasure we can take from each other in this cold and empty universe.
“You’re going to come in my ass too, aren’t you?” she asks in a groan, but she’s not really talking to me now. She’s watching herself from a distance, telling herself what’s happening, her own little perverse narration. “You’re going to come in my ass, aren’t you! You’re so bad to me, so dirty. Why do you want to make me bad? You treat me like a whore! I’m not that way. I’m not, baby! I’m not that way!”
Even though she’s talking to herself her words inflame me. I am bad to her, I love being bad to her, love to make her want my cock, want me to make her bad..
I grab her hair, pulling her head back and driving my prick into the tight clutch of her anus, spearing all the way into her. My balls are soaked with the juice from her cunt and I can barely move inside her she’s so tight, but she can feel every jerk and twitch of my prick inside her
She’s not lost in the stars now, and she’s not at home being non-sexual. She’s hot and panting and feeling my hard cock violating her ass. She’s losing control, reveling in the way I use her, feeling the violence of my desire that won’t let her hide.
She begins to shove her ass back impatiently against me, grinding slave-like, subserviently, back to take me inside, groaning at her own shamelessness. I find her pussy, empty and sopping wet, spread her swollen labia apart and find her clit. I begin to rub her, sliding my fingers up and down her greasy slip, feeling her little nub slide beneath my fingers, feeling her shudder.
“Yes oh yes oh yes!” she chants, her tongue coming out to wet her dry lips.
She squeezes me tight inside her and I get so frantic I almost pick her up off the floor with my hand at her cunt, digging my fingers into her, feeling my cock inside of her ass, my own hardness imbedded in her as she’s bent over the dresser. She’s frantic now and I feel it too. It’s just so impossibly obscene, so overwhelmingly perverse the pleasure I’m taking from her body, and I know I’m going to come, I’m going to lose it, and I want her to come with me.
It is like stars: hot and bright and burning with intensity, incandescent with pleasure as I feel my nerves go taut and short out burning pleasure in my legs.
“Oh God! Bitch! I’m going to come in you!” I spit down at her.
She answers me with a strangled snarl of pure animal excitement. I grab her hair and push her chest down onto the dresser again, seeing red. She can feel me swell in her rectum. She squeezes her eyes shut and her mouth opens in a soundless scream.
My universe comes boiling up from the ground of my being and I throw my head back, roaring, not seeing anything, lost in possession of her. I throb once, twice, and then I spit my semen into the darkness of her body with terrible force.
She tries to scream: cannot, her voice sticks in her throat. Her mouth hangs open and she doesn’t breathe, every muscle tense, then a single sobbing exhalation and she takes another breath and is paralyzed again. Her entire body spasms against me in deep, wracking shudders.
I’m still holding her hair, pulling her head back like she’s a wild horse, my cock spilling its seed deep within her, pulsing inside her as she rears up and shudders against me, again and again, her buttocks trembling, both of us locked together like that, every muscle quivering, the apex of being.
She collapses, sobbing on the dresser, her legs going weak, and my deflating cock falls out of her, spilling the last of its ejaculate down the back of her legs and onto the carpet. I lean on her heaving back but she can’t hold me so I force my legs to bear me up, grab her arms and pull her to the bed where we both fall on the mattress panting and gasping for breath.
I can’t speak for her but now I can feel the light and the shadows of those remote stars raking over us both as we lie in sweaty exhaustion on the bedspread. They’re like searchlights sent from the heaven, hunting us out, hunting all of us out.
The great moon, large and almost full is heaving its bulk through the firmament, rolling from house to house across the belt of the zodiac. The hands of the clock are moving, bringing me closer to the time when I must leave her.
Later I’ll make her tell me about the stars, about the nebulae, about the giant clouds of incandescent gas spread out over light-years of distance, lit with the powers of millions of suns. In her rich, sweet voice she’ll take me there while I play idly with her pussy, my head on her stomach. While I kiss her breasts, she’ll tell me about the stars, so incredibly far apart, each one blazing with its own mysterious energy, perfect, astonishing, alone.