Author’s Note:
I worked out how to make it filthier. It took me a fucking year.
Listening note:
Close Cover by Wim Mertens
Story:
This is not the sort of thing that my subconscious tells me to do, but I wasn’t about to turn down the instruction. Get inside her. Fill her cunt with your spunk. Had a ring to it.
But right now there were more important things to consider; I loved it down here, between those smooth legs, knuckles deep inside her, tasting her.
Let me explain; I had never experienced a more vivid, absolute appreciation of the female body than I had at this moment, and it was a rush. I knew it was the pill, but I allowed myself feel that it was her and me as well; there was no harm in believing this performance was organic, at least on some level. Fuck it, I didn’t care.
I remembered the little nasal spray; the worst case scenario involved me dying; the best case scenario involved some enhanced version of whatever this euphoria was, involving, in some equally enhanced way, her bod and mine approaching some sort of a singularity as I had her. I know how stupid that sounds, but in that moment, again, I was focused, motivated and singleminded. I found the spray and pumped two puffs into my nostrils.
Reader, I took my now completely stiff cock and rubbed the tip of it over her engorged clit until the tip glistened with the combined slick wetness of her truly magnificent looking pussy and my now copious pre-cum. It felt as if the harsh overstimulation of exposed nerves was promised never to happen again; I seemed to feel every minuscule undulation of her flesh against my glans and the warmth of her flesh seemed intended by evolution, or her creator, or whoever made those fucking pills to give me a thrill on such a gargantuan scale as to lose the planetary, let alone human scale. If I experience trouble describing it, it is because it cannot be described or both my vocabulary and my ability to sense it have been blown by the fact of it.
Every tiny movement of my cock, every change in posture my hips described, was akin to the sensation of my first orgasm; I was transported back to my first girl’s bedroom floor, on my knees, penetrating her for the very first time, experiencing the paroxysm of carnal delight, whilst also worrying I might be having a heart attack at 14. I needn’t have worried.
I’m back from the memory now, because she has taken the nasal spray from my hand and inhaled four big puffs and is now scrambling to pull me inside her. I will confess that the next few moments were tense; I thought I was in orgasm and I sheepishly concentrated on trying to extend the sensation; she had no such scruples. She backed into my cock and pulled me into her with her beautifully manicured nails, and after a few strokes taken gingerly, something in myself (probably the bit that needed me to ‘fill her with my spunk’ told me that she would forgive me if I gave in to the alien urges taking over me.
I gripped her hips and withdrew from her, fully, wanting to watch the thrill of penetrating her; I wanted to see her wetness coat my cock and to experience the sensation of her gorgeous wet lips being momentarily dragged by my shaft inside her; and, having experienced it a few times, the next experience suggested itself. I moved my hands up to her shoulders, forcing her to arch her back as I thumped the full force of my hips into her; I held her in that position and fucked her hard and fast with a metronomic precision I could never have pretended until now. Marvelling at her ability to endure this genuinely violent fuck, I was astounded and amazed to see her not enduring but enjoying it; she wanted it harder and faster, and though I genuinely worried about injuries to her or myself, the drug pushed me on.
“Pull my hair!” she begged, and I was keen to satisfy her desire; I took her long flowing locks in the grip of my left hand and pulled her head back to the angle that seemed most appealing; the line from her flushed, tormented and beautiful face, down her throat to her breasts reminded me of a statue of the Venus, so my mind fixated on this, so there I was, my balls aching and boiling with an erotic desperation, with the Venus’ hir in my hand, fucking the living force out of her still tight, still wet, still overwhelmingly sensuous cunt.
And it was her cunt. It was some meta-essential essence of her being that I seemed to be thrusting into; I fixated on her throat and, gently, respectful of the need of her beautiful long neck to escape the encounter unscathed and unmarked, I took it in my hand, wrapped my fingers around her larynx and began to slow down my strokes; suddenly I needed her to know that I could feel every part of her.
“I can feel every part of you,” she said, and I responded. “I was about to say that.”
“Are you loving my pussy like I’m loving your cock?” she asked, in between insertions and withdrawals.
“I am taking every ounce of pleasure from you that you’re capable of giving me,” I replied.
“You aren’t yet, honey, but you will. I’m going to make sure of it.”
I wanted to lick every drop of perspiration from every pore on her body. I wanted my body to simply shed its unnecessary parts and simply allow every part of me to be my cock, inside her, giving her pleasure I needed her to deserve.