Dark Sex - The Swan
Date: 6/12/2019, Categories: Anal, Author: byValentinus, Source: Literotica
She had tormented me long enough and she knew it, easing the beads in and out of me, watching the expression on my face, just as I watched hers in the mirror, while doing the same to her. Our nights sought each other out, across a realm of twilight that had moved its shifting frontiers through words, through aeons of typed emissions, finally glances, and now this: this taut sinecure, this "benefice without cure of souls", a troubadour passage at last, through the door, passes. Your wrists I bound: not together, but corded a foot apart, resting on your back, and you knew why. You had drawn my pain out and seen me endure, and now must you the same, O virgin. One well placed stroke across the buttocks, your knees on the carpet, torso over the bed, saw you jolt, eyes holding mine in the mirror: who guides who? Ah but this pain was too much, a red welt appearing, anger in those eyes but... something else, something darker, challenging, lustful. Reluctantly your hands reach to do my bidding, and you spread your cheeks for me, face red with shame and pride. I am over you from behind like a coiled snake, my oiled hands running up the inside of your thighs, gently caressing your hands on your buttocks, then running up to circle your waist, slipping under to cup your breasts, while my serpents glides the crack seeking its sheath. Flushed red, engorged, like the head of a copperhead snake, a sanguine arrow lying, heated, within the cradle of your parted cheeks, I hear your breath come ... ragged. I gather your long blonde hair in one hand and pull your neck back, slipping an anointed thumb within that tight ring and feeling you tense, hearing you gasp. Circling within, slow circles, a point of light in your dark star, then an index finger, insidious, slips wetly, into your womb. Your eyes cloud in the mirror as I pull your head back further, your back the bow I would string my arrow to, but not yet. Within, within, my thumb and finger seek each other out, separated by a silky membrane I gently stroke: is this too intimate Lady? I think, noticing your hands slacken, and I reach for the crop again, you moan, and your painted nails pull your cheeks apart anew. It is now, as my thumb withdraws and the aching head of my cock presses against the anal ring. I feel a thousand paper cuts along the length of it, so deep the need to sheath, the heavy weight of my sack aches with the need to seed, and the head disappears, gripped tight, and I hear your moan/cry at the pain of it but, without ceasing, I ease in remorseless, slow, until I am sheathed in your ass. Your wrists are freed and I watch your hands gripping the pillows, arms straight, wheat blonde hair hanging down about those eyes, staring, tow points of azure blue bonding mine through that golden tent. Pulling your cheeks wide, positioning, and then circling your waist, I pull you to my hips, my cock sinking deeper, my eyes never leaving yours, waiting for your mien to crack. Ah, bad pun--the change has come over ...