Shattered Skin, Silent Plea (L/A)

The dust of the long drive still clung to my skin, a gritty reminder of the miles we’d covered. The late afternoon sun, stubbornly refusing to dip below the horizon, cast long, hazy shadows across the opulent lobby of the Grand Meridian Hotel. It was a place that screamed indulgence, a stark contrast to the sweat-soaked, primal heat of our encounter by the roadside. I needed to cleanse, to separate the memories from the lingering scent, the insistent thrum of desire.

My gaze immediately landed on the bathroom, a sanctuary of gleaming marble and chrome. Without hesitation, I stripped off my jeans, pulling the thin, almost invisible silk gown over my head. It was a deliberately provocative choice, a visual invitation to the pleasure that awaited. The water, hot and invigorating, cascaded over me, washing away the remnants of the previous night. Every inch of my body, every pore, felt raw and exposed. But as I lathered my skin with a fragrant, floral-scented soap, a different kind of awareness began to bloom within me. A slow, deliberate building of anticipation.

The afterglow of our hasty, passionate encounter by the highway had left its mark. A lingering heat, a tingling sensation that centered around my anus, a subtle reminder of the raw, visceral connection we’d shared. I reached for the small bottle of extra virgin olive oil that sat on the counter, a simple pleasure that heightened the sensations. With a careful hand, I smeared the oil generously, widening the opening, stretching the delicate muscles, teasing the edges. The sensation was exquisite, a delicious anticipation that built with each passing moment. It felt both vulnerable and intensely powerful, a perfect preparation for the demands I was about to unleash.

Emerging from the bathroom, I found Greg already in the shower, his powerful physique glistening with water. The steam hung heavy in the air, thick with the scent of sandalwood and something undeniably masculine. He emerged moments later, stark naked, a picture of casual confidence and raw masculinity. He moved towards me with a predatory grace, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. He grabbed my arm, pulling me close with a possessive grip, and began a slow, deliberate Frenchie, his cock wriggling against my pussy with an almost unbearable eagerness.

As he moved lower, seeking deeper penetration, I allowed myself to be consumed by the pleasure. The heat intensified, spreading throughout my body, blurring the edges of my senses. He leaned in close, his breath warm against my skin, and began to suck on my breasts, teasing my nipples with a gentle, insistent rhythm. The sensation was exquisite, a slow burn that built into a crescendo of desire. Then, with a sudden burst of speed, he plunged further, his cock entering with a forceful thrust that sent jolts of pleasure through my core. I gasped, my pussy lips flapping involuntarily as he nibbled and suck-dragged my clitoris. It was an assault on my senses, a dizzying blend of pleasure and pain. An orgasm ripped through me, a primal wave of release that left me trembling and breathless.

I clung to him, desperate to prolong the experience, my body shuddering with each wave of sensation. But Greg, ever perceptive, seemed to sense my frantic desire and slowed his pace, pulling back slightly to observe my reaction. He looked surprised, a flicker of confusion in his eyes, as if he hadn't anticipated my visible distress, despite my explicit instructions.

Taking a deep breath, I rose to my feet and began to pace, my movements deliberate and commanding. Turning to face him, I lowered my knees to the floor, reaching for the plush, velvet covers that adorned the bed. With a decisive movement, I grabbed fistfuls of the fabric, pulling them taut and draping them around my body like a makeshift shackle. The power of the situation, the anticipation hanging in the air, was palpable.

“Fuck my ass!” I commanded, my voice low and laced with a raw, insistent energy. “But fuck it bare-cock; I want your sperm! Fill it up!!!” The words hung in the air, a challenge, a demand, a blatant expression of my desires.

Greg didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate. He simply moved forward, sliding the hem of my sheer gown above my hips, his touch both possessive and playful. The lubricant he brought, a thick, slick formula, instantly eased the friction, preparing my body for the pleasure to come. He began to push, deep and insistent, his cock entering with a powerful thrust that sent waves of heat through my insides. The sensation was intense, overwhelming, but I held firm, tightening my muscles, demanding more.

He responded to my insistence, riding me roughly, his movements becoming increasingly frenzied. I screamed, a primal cry of pure, unadulterated pleasure, my body writhing and contorting in response to his ministrations. Orgasm after orgasm ripped through me, each wave more intense than the last, leaving me breathless and exhausted. The world seemed to shrink, the only reality being the exquisite pleasure I was experiencing, the raw connection between us, the shared abandon of the moment.

As the intensity began to subside, a strange sensation crept into my body, a disconcerting awareness of something leaking, flowing, moving in an unexpected direction. Looking down, I saw it – a dark, viscous liquid, oozing and dripping from my rear, a stark contrast to the vibrant red of my dress. It was cum, the ultimate expression of his pleasure, a tangible reminder of the explosive encounter we’d just shared.

With a final surge of energy, he climaxed, the release powerful and forceful. The flow continued, relentless, spreading across my leg like a dark stain. I felt a strange mix of shame and exhilaration, a primal recognition of the raw, uninhibited nature of our desires.

Crawling onto the bed, I nestled against his warm body, allowing myself to be cradled in his arms. He stroked my arm lovingly, his touch gentle and reassuring, as I collapsed into a deep, dreamless sleep. The scent of sandalwood and something undeniably masculine filled my senses, a comforting reminder of the intense pleasure we’d just experienced, a promise of more to come. The dust of the drive was long forgotten, replaced by the lingering heat of our encounter, the exquisite memory of our shared abandon, the undeniable truth that we had found something truly extraordinary in each other.

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