True Sex Stories: Dans La Nuit

Bringing her to the edge, slowly, sweetly, with a single hand around her throat...

Her orgasms are always rapturous, her hair spilling out like ink, her eyes narrowed slits, her wet lips parted, though she doesn't breathe.

She lay in the hot darkness with the fecund smell of the forest and the sweet fragrance of blooming honeysuckle in her nose. We were both naked in the night. She felt feverish, but the heat and sweat emanating from her was not from sickness.

I knelt next to her in the murky gloom, merged shadows draped across our skin and that of the blanket on which she lay splayed and bound. Roused by passions, her desperation for release had nothing to do with her bonds.

I smirked down at her as she pleaded for the rich pain and decadent pleasures that would merge into warm, wet, and sinful sensations as she writhed and tested her tethers.

Marveling at her utter helplessness, my pupils were dark and large, my blood coursing within my body as I traced the contours of her heated flesh, cognizant of her knowledge she had no other choices than subjugation and compliance with my fickle whims.

There I took her as it pleased me; one large, constricting hand around her small throat as I brutally pumped into her while she thrashed beneath me. Her voice was small and almost disembodied in the night as she pleaded with me to fuck her, to hurt her, to slake my lust upon her.

I felt the slick sleeve of her sex clench and pulse around me as she orgasmed while I bit into her left breast, rolling the skin between my teeth, and growled my permission. The strength of her frenzied climax enabled her to lift up my larger, heavier body as she slammed her pelvis up into mine, taking more of me. Then she lay there, her muscles exhausted, her small chest heaving as I continued my rough assault onto, and within, her yielding body.

Republished with permission from Conning Devil. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact us. Photo by John B. Root.