My hands are shaking as I open them up. He's said he's big and I want to see just how big he gets when he's aroused. I could see he wasn't exactly small when he was in the pool, but the size of him erect takes my breath away.
"Still so sure you want me to fuck you?" He pulls me tight against him, his erection digging painfully into my thigh, brushing against my own. I nod, unable to breathe when I can feel the width and length of him so close to me.
"Just do what you want to me. Fuck me, hurt me, I don't care. You've done this before, haven't you? With a man?" I ask, trying to find him again, trying to see into his eyes, to find my calm, controlled, rational boss, but he isn't there. The sexual fury I've unleashed has gone too far. I'm not sure he could turn back now, even if I did refuse him. He's a different man, wild and abandoned, but I can't complain that he didn't warn me.
"Yes. I've done this before. With a man. You see," he's running his fingers along my back, scratching me with his nails, "I can only really let go like this with another guy. Too well brought up, I guess." He gives a barking laugh. "I was always taught to be respectful to ladies. I hold myself back with women, but with men, that's different. I can be rough, out of control. You're strong, young, you can take it. Hell, you want to take it. You want it. You want me." He says that with a sort of pride, and I can feel his erection hardening even more against my leg.
His lips pound on mine again, sucking me dry, making my mouth bleed. Then he grasps me even closer, imprisoning me in his arms, holds my head against his neck and bites the side of my throat, thrusting against me like a rutting stag. I can't do anything but go limp in his arms, allowing him to use my body the way I want it to be used, the way he wants to use it. He draws back and tosses me down on the bed on my front, his hand slamming against the back of my neck, holding me still. Then I can feel his lips on my back, biting on my shoulder blade. A hard bite like before, wringing a scream from my lips and making me struggle.
"I told you to keep still," he hisses. "You don't know what it does to me when you move."
I'm reminded of a cat holding down a mouse, just keeping it there with one paw, lazy and idle while the mouse remains quiet, but turning vicious as soon as the mouse tries to escape. That's what he's like now and I do my best to just lie there and accept the savagery of his assault. My cock is hard, aroused by his strength, and his tongue finds my butt.
"Ah, the famous ass," he mutters, licking me there, his tongue entering up my crease and making me sigh. I can feel his weight shifting as he puts one hand on the top of my thighs, the other on my spine.
"Don't move or I'll break you in two." He pauses, and then I feel his teeth biting down on one of my buttocks, and I'm screaming as that bite goes on, and on, and on, claiming me, marking me as his while he holds me down. Then, finally, he loosens his teeth, licks at the bite mark he's made, and I lie there whimpering. "Fox...?" His hand brushes my hair. "You still with me?"
"Yeah." My response is muffled by the pillow, which I've got between my teeth.
"You're right, Fox. Your ass is worthy of my attention. I'm glad you were kind enough to point it out to me." He laughs, a low, bass, rumbling sound that I don't think I've ever heard before. Then he has his hands on my balls, stroking them, licking them.
"Don't bite me there or I'll die," I mutter, and he laughs again, petting me like I'm a dog or rabbit.
"Wait 'til you feel my cock up your ass. You just might die."
His big hands seem to be on every part of my body simultaneously, including my cock and inside my ass, and I can't stop myself thrusting again, needing the sweet release of orgasm, but he won't give it to me.
"Please," I moan pathetically.
"Don't talk." He's everywhere, like some inescapable force, some elemental power, blowing my brains out and taking my breath away. "On your knees." He picks me up and holds me. My knees are on the bed, my back pressed against his chest, his arms holding me tight so that I can feel his cock pressed up against me. It's wet and slippery, and I realize he's already put a condom on it, and lube. His fingers press further inside me, slick and cool with the lubricant, and unerringly find my prostate, making me gasp out loud.
"It gets better than that," he growls, rubbing insistently, working me open with his fingers. "Open up for me, you have to take more than a couple of fingers." His voice is like silk, cool and sensual, and I do as he says, thrusting back, trying to swallow his whole hand, to feel even more of him inside me. After several long, blissful minutes, his fingers withdraw and I moan in disappointed frustration.
"Who do you belong to?" he asks me, his cock nuzzling between my butt cheeks, teasing and hard.
"You," I groan as his fingers wrap themselves around my cock and pump again.
"Louder." His voice is in my ear, in my head.
"You. Fuck you. You, you, you!" I scream, wanting release, wanting my orgasm.
"Don't come," he growls, his hand leaving my cock, making me sweat with the disappointment of it, wringing a moan of anguish from me. His fingers are on my thighs, holding me tight, pushing me forward. One hand is around my waist, and, without warning, he suddenly thrusts into me, hard. I've never felt anything like this before. First it hurts like hell as he breaches the ring of muscle in my ass, slamming forward with his thighs, holding me up with his hand so I can't escape the initial thrust. Then he smoothly rocks forward, ramming me hard, and at the same time seizes my cock once more.
"Shit..." I moan. He's quiet and all I am right now is a mess of sensation. I can feel the hardness of him inside my ass, and hear the sound of his breathing. His head is next to mine, his breath warm and hungry on my neck. I fall silent, stilled, becoming used to this new sensation, accustomed to the hard size of him inside me. It's as if we're welded together there, me accepting him within me, he waiting, holding himself inside me, unmoving. We're joined, one, our breathing the only sound we make, the rise and fall of our chests our only movement.
It's the calm before the storm, because then he suddenly growls and thrusts and it's exquisite, like nothing I can describe—it hurts so much, but feels so goddamn good. With each thrust of molten pain, he pumps my cock until my nerve endings are a confusion of messages. Some are telling me I'm having the best time of my life, others telling me I'm on fire with pain in my ass, and still more telling me I'm about to damn well die of pleasure. He draws back, rough and slick, then thrusts again and again, each time stroking my cock hard.
"Son of a goddamn bitch," I moan, putting my head back, trying to remember to breathe, feeling my sweat running down my face.
"Yeah," he laughs. "Yeah. And you're mine. Don't forget that." And then he loses it completely and rams into me hard, fast, over and over again until I'm crying out, unable to stay on my knees anymore, relying on his big hands to hold me where he wants me, to keep me from toppling over. One of his arms is around my waist, gripping me tight to his chest, the other is working my cock in time to his thrusts and I'm helpless, transfixed. I can feel my ass muscles constricting around him, struggling against him, but this doesn't stop him. He's too strong, too fast, and too far gone.
"Accept me, damn you." He pushes harder, rougher, taking what he wants where my body won't give it up freely, and I find myself opening up more of my body to that insistent hardness.
His mouth lingers against my neck, his teeth nipping at my skin. I can feel myself about to burst and he senses it, too.
"You can come," he whispers. "Now. Come now."
And on cue I do, spurting out in wave after wave, more than I've ever come before. Then I'm spent and the sensation in my cock is gone.
He removes his hand and places it flat against my abdomen, drawing me even further onto his erect penis, grinding his thighs into my butt. "I haven't come yet. I'm not ready yet. How much longer can you stand this, can you bear me in you?" he breathes against my ear.
"I don't know," I whimper. "Hurts."
"Yeah." He thrusts, angling up against my prostrate, making me gasp. "And it feels good, too, doesn't it?" He draws back again, thrusts again. "Well?" he asks.
"Yes. Feels good, too," I pant.
"Mine." He seizes my hips and pulls me so tight against him that his cock is thrust even deeper inside me. He's so hard, so big, that I'm losing my bearings. It's just me and his arms holding me up, his cock within me, claiming me, filling me, owning me. Then he reaches a frenzy, tossing me around like I weigh nothing, pulling and pushing at me, sliding deep inside me, then drawing out, pushing back in so fast I don't have time to catch my breath. I hear him shudder, and then he roars as the orgasm claims him, holding me tight against his chest again, his sweat mingling with mine, his stubbly cheek rough against my own. It's a primal roar of sheer sexual release. A sound of victory, ownership, triumph, pleasure.
We kneel there for a long time, he holding my body tight against him, kissing my neck, nuzzling me, his arms wrapped tight around me.
Then he just drops me. He doesn't say a word, just withdraws from my battered, sated body, and goes to the bathroom. I feel empty, drained, and totally and absolutely fucked; fucked all the way up my ass, and all the way down into my soul. I've never felt such emotions before, never experienced something so raw, savage and entirely without mercy. I've never surrendered myself to anything so completely, or, paradoxically, felt so safe. It just felt right, but him leaving me doesn't. I want his kisses and his reassurance. I don't want to feel like I was just a body to him, someone on whom to take out his anger, sexual frustration and his need to possess. I can hear him washing himself, as if he wants to get rid of the scent of me. He's gone a long time and when he returns to the bedroom, his face is hard and closed and he's wearing a long robe, hiding himself from me. He goes and sits down in the chair, a long way from me, not even looking at me. I feel as if I'm an object of disgust.
"Sir?" I can't stand it. I feel lost, alone, when moments ago, during that frenzied coupling, I felt as if I belonged to someone and was part of something. He flinches when I go and touch him.
"Don't." he hisses,
"Why not? Shit, why the fuck not after what we just did?" I ask, feeling hurt.
He shakes his head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I hate it when I...when I lose it like that."
"But I wanted you." I take his face between my hands and kiss him on the lips. "I really wanted you, Walter."
"Fox." He attempts a smile at our first-name terms. "Did I hurt you? I'm sorry. I knew I wouldn't be able to hold back. Shit, I should have said 'no'. I shouldn't have got us into this."
"I told you to go ahead. It was...unbelievable." I exhale heavily.
"But I hurt you," he says wretchedly. "I never wanted to do that. If I hadn't lost control, it could have been gentle. You would have enjoyed it more."
"Walter, believe me, I couldn't have enjoyed it much more than that." I shake my head. "I suppose I wanted to make you lose control. I wanted to be taken, owned like that, in that way. Raw, no holding back. Naked lust, total abandonment. It was a turn on." I shrug and wince, bites now vying with welts for their place on my pain threshold.
"Shit." He puts his arms around me and kisses my hair, then buries his face in it. "Shit, this just makes it worse."
"Why?" I ask, pulling him up and leading him back to the bed. I push him down and wrap myself around him, facing him, looking into his eyes.
"Because now I really won't be able to stand to let them touch you. It was bad enough before, but now you're mine, really mine, no pretense. Now I'll have to work even harder to keep myself under control."
"Well, you've always been good at self-control. Unlike me," I laugh.
