Silent Plea: A Submission

The rain hammered against the windows of our secluded cabin, a relentless percussion accompanying the simmering tension in the room. “Women have two sets of lips: one set for arguing, and the other set for apologizing,” I’d scoffed earlier, dismissing the cliché as trite. Now, she was apologizing, a furious torrent of hot tears and muttered regrets replacing the earlier storm of stomping and cursing. It was unexpected, jarring, a complete abandonment of our usual logical approach to conflict. I’d retreated to my book, hoping to diffuse the situation, but the silence that descended felt heavier than any argument.

Finally, her voice, raw with remorse, cut through the quiet. “I’m sorry, Eric. I was being an absolute jerk. Please forgive me.” She was kneeling on the bed, stark naked save for those tiny, clinging spandex shorts, her face pressed into the mattress, her ample breasts straining against the fabric. Her backside, glistening with sweat from her frantic rampage through the house, was exposed, a vulnerable offering in the aftermath of her outburst. The dark patches on the shorts, soaked through with clear liquid, caught my eye – not just water, I suspected. A primal heat began to build within me, an instinctive response to the raw emotion and the tantalizing display of vulnerability.

Without hesitation, I shed my own clothes, the cool air raising goosebumps on my skin as I approached her. Her back shimmered under the dim light, the glistening sheen a potent invitation. My hands, trembling slightly with anticipation, moved over her exposed flesh, tracing the contours of her hips, the curve of her spine. The dark patches on her shorts, now undeniably stained with something more than water, felt strangely stimulating. The scent of her body, a blend of sweat, perfume, and something uniquely hers, filled my senses. It was a potent cocktail, stirring a deep, almost primal desire.

Her upper body, angled towards the door, held a mixture of shame and pleading. When I turned, my gaze locked onto her exposed assets, and a low growl escaped my lips. I walked to the bed, slowly, deliberately, savoring the moment. Her surrender was complete, her anger evaporated, leaving behind only a desperate longing for connection.

“I’m sorry, Eric,” she repeated, her voice choked with emotion. “I let my frustrations get the better of me. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

I pressed my hips against hers, a silent acknowledgement of her apology. The spandex shorts fell away, revealing the full extent of her beauty. Her lips, swollen from her tears, were plump and inviting, a stark contrast to the vulnerability in her eyes. I took a tentative lick, tasting the salt of her tears, and then, driven by an overwhelming urge, I plunged inside her.

As I entered, a wave of pleasure washed over me, accompanied by a surge of tenderness. It was a ritual I’d performed countless times, but tonight, it felt different, more profound. “God gave me you, Eric,” I murmured, my voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for this blessing.” My words, whispered against her delicate flesh, were a testament to the depth of my feelings.

Her back arched slightly, a silent invitation to continue. I deepened my thrusts, feeling her muscles tense and respond. Her moans, initially hesitant, grew louder and more insistent, reflecting the escalating pleasure. We lost ourselves in the rhythm, our bodies moving in perfect synchronization, driven by a shared desire that transcended words. The rain continued to fall, a soothing soundtrack to our intimate encounter.

“How do you want to cum, baby?” she moaned, her voice breathless. “Where do you want me?”

“Let me take care of you,” I replied, deepening my penetration. “Let me show you how good it can be.”

“I want you to cum in my mouth,” she gasped, her body trembling with anticipation. “And then, I want you to kiss me.”

“As you wish, my love,” I whispered, focusing my energy on her pleasure. We continued to ride, our movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. She arched her back further, her hips swaying rhythmically, her legs wrapped tightly around my waist.

Finally, she began to climax, a torrent of pleasure that shook her entire body. As she reached her peak, she spun around, her hips thrusting against my chest, pulling me closer. Without hesitation, I grabbed her feet and held them firmly in place, preventing me from slipping out. Her frantic movements only intensified my arousal.

With a final, desperate plea, she opened her mouth, and I plunged inside, taking advantage of her vulnerability. The sensation was exquisite, a perfect blend of pleasure and surrender. As she rose to her knees, panting and breathless, she leaned in and kissed me, her lips wet and demanding.

Wanting to prolong the pleasure for her, I moved one hand to her front side, rubbing against her swollen clitoris, while my other hand caressed her back, deep within her warm, moist folds. It was a sensual dance of dominance and submission, a testament to our mutual desire. We continued to kiss, our bodies intertwined, lost in a world of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

As we reached another climax, we collapsed onto the bed, exhausted but invigorated. We laughed, a joyous sound that echoed through the cabin, a celebration of our connection. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and a sliver of moonlight peeked through the clouds, illuminating our intertwined bodies. It was a perfect moment, a testament to the enduring power of love and desire. The apology had been accepted, the tension released, and we were, once again, lovers and friends, bound together by a shared passion that burned brighter than any storm.

Did you like this story? Silent Plea: A Submission look, but like these, here Anonymous sexual story.