Controlling Colleen

He allowed her wetness to dictate his thrusts of Dexter. The more her chest heaved, the more pliable she became, and the deeper Dexter's purple disappeared into her pink.

"Please," she begged, wiggling her bound hands at him.

"Not yet." His face lay against her thigh and his rumbling voice sent ripples of pleasure straight through her womb and up her spine.

He thrust, and she caught her breath. Dexter was in her up to the hilt. She could feel faux balls against her perineum.

Her heart raced. She breathed out.

Before she knew it, he flipped her over like a pancake. One moment, she was on her back, the next she was on her elbows, ass in the air. She expected to feel him up against her back door but was surprised when she looked down to see she was straddling his face, his strong hands gripping her waist.

Dexter was still in deep, more so than she herself had ever pushed Dexter in.

Momentarily, she felt his hands lower her pelvis and a rush of delirium washed over her as his firm, warm tongue roused her clit. Her hips bucked impulsively.

He fluttered his tongue madly while slowly pulling the vibrator out. When it was nearly all the way out of her, he flicked the "on" switch, and Dexter came to life.

She moaned gutturally. It was almost too much for her.

He swirled his tongue around her clit. She wanted to pull away -- she couldn't take it -- but his grip was strong and, giving in, she pushed her pelvis down on him.

Suddenly, Dexter was slammed back in her to the hilt. The vibrating dildo combined with his tongue overwhelmed Colleen.

Her orgasm was visceral. Convulsions of rhapsody flooded her. Control was about to abandon her when an emptiness deluged her. Dexter was out.

She gasped.

"No," she protested. "Where...? Nothing..." She could make neither a question nor a sentence. Her powers of speech were as gone as Dexter.

He knew, though. "I'd like to introduce you to something else."

That brought a semblance of decorum back to her. "Untie me."

"Oh, yes. I want your hands free now." He deftly undid the knot and tossed the pocket square onto the coffee table.

He moved so that she was now positioned in front of his erect penis.

"Oh my fucking god." Her voice was husky.

At least two inches longer than Dexter. Thick as an axe handle. Head like the crown of an oversized mocha mushroom.

She clamped her hand around the base of the shaft. It was like grabbing a flesh-colored lead pipe. Unlike with her client earlier, however, she had no illusions that she could control this tool.

She was infinitely glad she had more than ten minutes for this one.

Relaxing her jaw muscles and widening her mouth as never before, she took him in.

She licked. She teased. She sucked gently, then with purpose. She swirled her tongue on his bulbous head. She bathed it with wet kisses. She played her tongue down the length of him. She nibbled his hairless balls, pausing to marvel at this last fact.

Much better without hair. She pulled away. And so perfectly formed, like eggs in a sac.

She took a sac in her mouth and sucked gently, fluttering her tongue. He moaned.

She took him into her mouth again. She opened her throat and felt the spongy head push down her throat. She did not gag, but she couldn't take all of him, either.

No matter. She bobbed her head, generating saliva. She flattened her tongue, but its width was no match for his girth. Still, her work on the underside of his shaft was effective, for his moans became more insistent.

While her right hand worked the part of his shaft not in her mouth, her left hand took an expedition down her own torso. She was wetter than she could remember ever being.

Time, she thought, and she impaled herself on him.

His eyes widened as she slid all the way down his shaft.

Goddamn. She gasped. I can feel him down in my toes and up in my ears.

She sat motionless for a moment, feeling the fullness of him.

She ground against his pelvis, reveling in his manhood deep inside her. She put her hands on his rippling, hairless abdomen, palms down, and raised her ass up. She felt her pussy lips impossibly distend as she lifted up. His shaft glistened with her pearly juices.

She unsheathed herself. Impaled herself. Sat slowly down. Pulled quickly up. Down. Up.

He trembled, but held his discipline.

She quivered, ready to lose hers.

Once more, she eased slowly back down onto him, at which point he took control, flipping her again, now onto her back, and spearing her before she knew it.

Her head swam.

His hands reached under her and grabbed her ass and he ground his pelvis against hers. Her clit took the brunt of his grinding.

The effect was like fireworks through her body. A pressure she'd never felt before built to a crescendo she'd thought impossible to achieve.

His micro-thrusts became quicker and more insistent. Stars swamped her vision and ricocheted through her mind.

He pulled nearly all the way out and then hammered into her up to the crank of his shaft, his micro-thrusts now macro-thrusts.

Out. In.

Out.

In.

Slow.

Fast.

Slow. Fast.

Out faster. In faster.

Control was slipping away, she realized. She didn't fight it.

"Faster," she gasped.

Begged.

His hips bucked and recoiled like a piston. Hers frantically tried to match his, but at some point, they stopped, paralyzed as they were with pleasure.

He slammed into her and held fast.

The orgasm tore through her. Control abandoned her for the first time in her sexual life.

Her orgasm flooded the primitive regions of her mind where vestiges of early humans normally lie dormant. Her skin went numb.

She felt nothing. Not leather. Not his skin. Not his sweat mixed with hers.

Inside, however, she felt everything. Neurons flashed. Synapses glowed. Blood raced. Bone shivered. Cells burst.

Finally, after an unknown amount of time, the orgasm abated.

Just as her body settled down, he said, "My turn."

She was incredulous. "Your turn?"

He nodded and pulled out to the lip of his head and pushed in. This time, he did so with refinement, finesse.

Her body was instantly ablaze.

Impossible, she thought. Impossible he hasn't cum yet. Impossible that I can endure another one.

But the indescribably delicious pressure built again.

Whereas earlier he'd mostly fucked her with abandon, he now was more sensual. More skilled. More proficient.

His thrusts were more artful, done with more style, more touch. His kisses more deliquescent, more sensuous.

He linked his fingers with hers, guided her legs to enwrap his.

Soon the skill and proficiency and deliquescence became more lustful, more carnal, heavier, hotter.

His hips pistoned again and once more she sank with open eyes into a dream-like rapture. The pace maddened until their bodies moved in unison. Neither could tell where one began or the other ended.

He emitted a lascivious growl as his orgasm bubbled in his balls and began its ascent.

She unleashed her own lusty wail as hers percolated and amassed.

The two orgasms surged.

They met at the junction of their fleshy union and poured forth, creating a waterfall of fluids. She felt his ropy threads plow into her just as control ebbed away from her again.

She shuddered, clamping like a vise on his titillating tool, accepting his succulent seed.

Their clamors of ecstasy continued unabated for a time until eventually simmering down to whimpers of contentment.

Colleen lay on the sofa, panting.

She'd just lost control twice. Actually, it had been ripped from her by a man worthy of the act. Certainly a cause for panting.

She was not alone. He lay next to her, also panting. And her appetite was non-existent, having been sated by eggs and sausage of a different sort.

As she drifted off into a post-coital haze, she reveled in her full body-and-soul satisfaction. She was content down to her cells.

Something new, she thought.

She wondered if any woman had ever had such an orgasm. I doubt it, she though dreamily.

For her, the Earth had finally moved. Along with the sofa, of course.