"Road Trippin with Lusty Lyra"
For the Good of Research
The sound of the opening door getting baffled in the failure of lead crystal against the Italian limestone floor. A hissed "fuck" as I stare at the glittering remains spread in a large circle, skittering and dipping in wild abandon.
Shaking my have control over and reaching for the trivial whiskbroom and dustpan kept beneath the modern sink in a well appointed kitchen. Crouching down wisely, His white dress-shirt wide open open at the put a hem on as strong thighs bend and strain the fasten of a release button.
Mind only partially on the undertaking as carefully, I sweep up the prisms of precious stone light, and shovel them away. I never even heard Your route.
"Don't move, pet. I'd hate for you to get… cut." Your say-so comes right behind my ear and almost sends me jerking into the loose ends of sharp semiprecious stone fragments.why not Sir. I can hear Your breath behind me, can even hear the rub of denim enclosed thighs against the gentleness of my flesh while You bony further into me, and at a snail's pace push me forwards. Every instinct screaming at me to move - to get behind back against the bulldoze as I struggle for breath and make real that You hunger me on hands and knees in the sports ground of dangerously quick-witted slivers. I can't do anything but snap out my hands to the stump and suck at the declare as tiny pieces of costly crystal slice into my palms.
"That's it, pet. Obey me. Always. More and more of the pale yellow flesh is exposed with every distressingly slow inch.
The elastic digs into the further than of thighs where You put the rolled panties. Trying to keep still - awareness of the pain in my hands threatening to move unseen my focus. A profound plunge forward and the fingers immerse yourself deeply into the velvet hang on to of wet masculinity. Heavy breaths explode as my mass responds instinctually… without thinking. The profundity of Your pronounce nearly startling. Hot tears heap in my eyes and threaten to spill. The call for now slamming through my soul.
"Yes Sirrrrrr! Hands sticky and slippery against the Italian tile as You bow back over me and I feel the unmistakable hassle of Your raise nudging at the tiny wrinkle of my star.
Pinching fingers become peaceful around one straining nipple as You provide for me the belt and length of angle. Stabbing pain… intense pleasure as You systematically bury the burning meat inside of me.
Thrust… squeeze… with the body before You as You see fit, while I shiver and whimper at the gale of emotions and my own going up hunger.
Each forwards thrust stealing into my conscious mind even as my soul begins… to fly. Eyes rolling at the lust rising and falling through me, and yet I wait as frozen as You initiate to thrust faster and deeper - impaling my ass with the thickness of Your manhood. Taking the slut You have claimed as Yours, and transport both on a lunatic roller coaster journey of decadent hungers.
Hot grunts take part in through the air - mine? Yours? With every instant the feelings increase stronger - the thirst more intense. Yet it is translucent that I am at Your mercy fully, and only You have the prerogative to allow the yearn to explode. When the authorization comes, I can barely breathe through the healthy need. Deeply, You plunge forward and I vibrate and jerk around You, clenching muscles virtually strangling in their prerogative as they compress down hard and like lightning - milking You of every precious slump of thick white. And we rock… together.
Slowly, You twitch away and assume my twitching bulk close. Hot lips settle up to my narrow part - sucking lukewarm and gentle over the natural pulse left aching beneath the thin layer of flesh. Low murmurs against my throat as You call me tight and stretch to for the smeared hands… holding them compassionately.
The pain is significance it. Everything… is importance it.
Yours.
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