Scent of Sin After Dinner

The rain hammered against the windows of our secluded cabin, a relentless rhythm mirroring the heat building within me. Just hours ago, I’d delivered a particularly intense oral session to Greg, culminating in a full-blown face-fuck that left me breathless and craving more. The lingering scent of arousal hung heavy in the air, a potent reminder of our recent encounter. Now, as we sat across from each other in the dimly lit dining room, a mischievous glint in my eyes, I couldn't resist the urge to revisit the primal connection we’d forged.

Greg, a man of considerable muscle and even more desire, was already sporting a noticeable bulge beneath his denim shorts. My short, crimson skirt, a deliberate choice to tease, seemed to amplify the effect, turning heads without me even trying. The thought of someone else witnessing our intimate moments filled me with a perverse pleasure. Rules were made to be broken, especially when it came to satisfying my deepest urges.

"Shall we continue as planned?" I purred, extending a playful wink in his direction. The anticipation was palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the shared lust that simmered beneath the surface. My body throbbed with a renewed energy, fueled by the memory of his touch and the promise of more exquisite pleasure.

Without a word, I began clearing the dining room table, pushing aside the silverware and glassware with an almost violent urgency. The task served as a symbolic act, a deliberate stripping away of inhibitions and societal constraints. With swift, confident movements, I retrieved the foam mattress from the guest room, a plush haven designed for intense encounters. A linen liner was carefully placed over the top, followed by a small, worn pillow from the sofa, adding a layer of comfort and familiarity. Positioning myself on the edge of the table, I removed my dress, revealing my pale, supple skin beneath. The exposure felt both vulnerable and exhilarating, a calculated risk that only served to heighten the anticipation.

Before mounting the table, I reached down and delivered another quick, insistent blowjob to further stimulate his erection. The sudden surge of pleasure radiating from him was infectious, igniting my own senses and intensifying my desire. A mischievous grin spread across my face as I pulled my dress up, offering a tantalizing glimpse of my swollen breasts.

"Let's get wet," I commanded, my voice a low, husky whisper. Greg, never one to shy away from a challenge or a delicious indulgence, immediately complied. He parted my lips with a practiced hand, pushing his tongue deep into my cavernous mouth. The taste of him, salty and potent, sent shivers down my spine. As he continued his assault, his tongue expertly navigated the folds of my lips, teasing my clit with slow, deliberate movements. Then, with a decisive thrust, he pushed his entire cock into my welcoming orifice.

I’d promised Greg a variety of missionary-style positions, each designed to maximize pleasure and explore every inch of my pleasure center. But the core experience would always be about penetration, a primal act of union and domination. Mounting the table, I lay flat on my back, my legs spread wide open, allowing for maximum access and control. Greg, with a powerful surge of strength, climbed onto my back, aligning himself perfectly before initiating the first phase of our game. A slow, deliberate french kiss, full of lingering touches and passionate moans, set the stage for what was to come.

As he began to push his cock into my welcoming hole, the pace gradually increased, mirroring my escalating arousal. The rhythmic movements, the heat of his body against mine, ignited a wildfire within me. "Oh, yeah, fuck me," I urged, my voice barely a breath. Greg, sensing my escalating desire, responded with gusto, pulling my dress further up and claiming my swollen breasts. The sensation was exquisite, a perfect blend of pleasure and control.

But he wasn't done yet. With a swift, decisive move, he abandoned my breasts to grab my hips and pump furiously. The resulting sway of my tits against the table added another layer of stimulation, intensifying the pleasure that radiated through my body. I bent my knees, a subtle shift in position that seemed to grant him even greater access and control. He pushed harder, the momentum building as I felt myself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Finally, with one final, earth-shattering wriggle, I screamed, "I’M CUMMING!!! MORE, MORE, MORE!!!"

Greg, caught off guard by the intensity of my pleasure, let out a primal yell, "AAAH!!!". With a final, desperate push, he spewed a massive load into my waiting cunt, the release sending waves of pleasure throughout my entire being. As he withdrew, releasing my legs, another burst of pleasure erupted from my bush, a testament to the sheer intensity of our encounter.

Without hesitation, he rushed back, spraying my tits with a generous shower of his seminal fluid. I was fortunate enough to catch his taste once again, savoring the salty, potent essence as my tongue explored every inch of his generous offering. The pleasure was overwhelming, a perfect culmination of our shared desires.

“You were wonderful—just what I wanted," I remarked, sliding off the table as Greg meticulously cleaned himself and the surrounding area. The aftermath was a chaotic mess, a testament to the raw, unbridled passion we had unleashed. The foam mattress was saturated with our sweat and fluids, the linen liner stained with evidence of our intimate encounter. As we wiped ourselves down, our movements mirroring each other in a silent acknowledgment of our shared experience, I realized the extent of our transgression.

A swift shower and a change of clothes were necessary to wash away the lingering scent of sex, but the memory of our encounter would undoubtedly remain etched in my mind. Finally, we retreated to bed, naked and vulnerable, waiting for the first rays of dawn to break through the storm clouds outside. The rain continued its relentless assault on the cabin, a fitting soundtrack to the lingering heat and anticipation that filled our hearts. The night had been a symphony of lust, desire, and explicit pleasure, a reminder that even in the most isolated corners of the world, the primal instincts of man and woman could still find a way to express themselves.

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