Illicit Entry Ch. 01: Home Ground

After maybe half a dozen pistoning thrusts, each building upon the momentum of the last, her eyes snapped open wide. The molten fire in her loins was being stoked into a frenzy by his lancing invasions but she refused to lose herself to the lascivious assault. She leaned her chest further forward, testing the strength of his hands' enveloping grasp, and began to counter-attack: balancing on the balls of her feet and pushing with her toes, she began to batter her rump right back into the onrushing lunges of his meaty spear. She was rewarded, beyond the purely physical delights of her predicament, with a satisfying grunt of surprise or perhaps eroding self-control uttered by her forceful, clandestine lover. In all the commotion he found himself compelled to release one of her jutting boobs to wrap a forearm around her belly instead, just managing to preserve his reign upon her as they rutted back and forth with increasing vigour.

It took a minute or so of their lunging in lewd opposition before they began to reach the limits of their current situation, and wanted more. Neither could tell if it was themselves or the other who began the sinking downward drift toward the woven rug below. After the prolonged stiffened tautness of her straight-legged stance, she felt her knees soften gratefully; he loomed over her from behind, arms still entangled about her as he dragged her under.

They ended up stretched full-length on the rug with him slipping back inside her to carry on their sport, her shoulderblades digging into his chest. One of his hands reached down to seize the inside of her thigh and haul upward, splitting her legs and giving him clearer access. She allowed her leg to be raised, crooking at the knee as he drove into her unfettered, twisting her torso to stare sidelong into his face and reaching an arm around to grab him firmly by the cheek. Both their mouths were half-open, their breathing raucous as they gazed askew at one another while continuing to cavort.

From his new angle of penetration, she felt him reach further into the sensitive tightness of her insides than before. The slight kink to his penis made him seem wider and more varied as he pumped in and out. She'd used her larcenous and lucrative nocturnal exploits as a source of thrills for so long that she'd practically forgotten how good this meatier alternative could be. Straining her body around further, sliding her hand from his cheek to up behind his ear and tugging, she tried to bring his parted lips within short, sharp striking distance of her own. In response (or reward?), one of his hands snaked up to close firmly around her throat and pull her face in a reciprocal direction, perhaps to prove that he was still the one in charge.

Their first kiss was swift and savage and primal, a momentary clash of lips at the end of twin forward lunges of faces, part desired and part compelled. She felt her upper lip mashed against the teeth behind; he felt his nose flattened briefly against the inside of her cheekbone. They were panting harder as they parted, the breaths washing warmly over each other's faces, and each took a shocked second to recover before the overwhelming need for more asserted itself: again, they dragged each other in; this time their lips locked hard, their breath traded directly mouth-to-mouth along with restless tongues. She felt herself begin to reach an apex of ecstasy right about then, the fingers of his other hand scrabbling at her engorged and sopping folds as his length continued stabbing up inside her. Pinned in place and contorted around in his arms, the scream of her first climax was projected straight down his throat.

He continued the pace as her body tensed in his arms, her back trying to arch reflexively within his tight embrace. With repeated poundings into her incendiary sex he prolonged her experience effortlessly, the vision beginning to blur in her eyes as her body was subjected to waves of rolling pleasure. He was clearly enjoying the experience, if the perceptible speeding of his thrusts and quivering of his speartip deep inside her were anything to go by. As the mania began to seep out of her limbs once more, weakening her a fraction with its passing, he took advantage to bring both hands up and turn her bodily about. He rose as he pressed her down, rotating over her until she was flat on her belly and he had her pinned with the weight of his body, concentrated down through his abdomen where he remained linked, hooked, into her private opening. His hands were on either side of her shoulders before he lowered himself to his forearms, bringing his stomach down to press into the small of her back.

Her legs were splayed apart by his weight and the intimate proximity of his crotch to her under-parts; he continued to guarantee himself access to her loins with his sheer, controlling physicality. There was little she could do to prevent it or even summon the desire to do so in her bliss-fogged state, but rather than submit to him entirely she began stubbornly to raise her rear end against him, humping back along his length in reverse, pushing back against his advancing ardour. He bent to lower his hungry lips against the back of her neck, latching on and suckling a protracted smooch as her panting mouth was pushed down into the sumptuous weave of the rug. She spread her arms wide as if to brace herself, and continued her desperate resistance to his carnal invasion.

Lost somewhere amongst the soft cotton strands, she began to have her second orgasm. Perhaps it was triggered by the contrasting sensations of the beguiling fibres yielding beneath her while his forceful body bore down from above, or merely the cumulative effect of the latest subtle change in the angle from which he was plunging vigorously inside her. Either way, the new crashing crescendo rolled her eyes up inside their sockets again as her depraved moan became a muffled 'humph' into the oriental weave. He was able to really take advantage of the stability afforded by their current position, his clenched buttocks blurring up and down as the thrusts of his engorged shaft were hidden between their bodies, battering away at her inflamed nethers and forcing her to continue rolling around her wallowing climax for the longest time of any so far as waves peaked and broke repeatedly through her trapped, prone body.

She was disappointed when her predicament came to a close, far too early for her liking; so much so that she heard herself release an involuntary growl of frustration as he seemed to tire of the arrangement and press up on pointed toes to free himself from her embracing confines. She gasped in sensation and indignation. When that delicious prick, slickened with her sexual secretions, slithered free from her slit without warning, she tried to spin around and lunge upward with both hands in an attempt to capture him back once more. In fact, she need hardly have bothered: half-crazed behind a mist of desire, he was simply seized by the overwhelming need to bring about the most close and profound union with her wonderful body that he could think of; he let her turn over to lay on her back, glaring up at him; let her snatch her arms about his shoulders; let himself be drawn downward while the only move he made was to line the head of his rod up once more inside her sultry folds, pressed against her receptive orifice; let her pull him back inside.

He dropped down on top of her body once again, barely felt one of her arms stretch to grab his rear end and haul him down deeper. He met the affronted rise of her head with his lips, securing her own and pushing the back of her head into the rug as she subsided, gradually mollified. And then he began to raise his hips once more in commencement, prepared for his deepest exploration inside her so far. He could feel through the salacious fury of her kiss that she was equally prepared to push back against him to the last, silently daring him to plunge further. As his downward thrust took form and built up momentum, her legs lashed out to wrap tightly around his waist and drag him in. Her heels dug in on either side of the base of his spine, her hands crawled up his back to seize his shoulders, and by the time his probing tip bottomed out inside her body they were locked inseparably together. It took all his strength to pull upward again, less withdrawing than simply dragging her clinging body with him, before slamming down once more into the cotton beneath.

She was determined now that, though at first he'd been the one to invade her captive body, she would not release him until she was finished with him. Her slender limbs were strong and tenacious, caging his back and pinning him against her (or her against him) while he did his best to fill her up with panting, sweating, desperate thrusts. The upward curve of his shaft came into its own now, rubbing his bulbous tip along the inner frontal wall of her sex and striking sparks from the sensitive cluster of nerve-endings upon it with every forceful stroke. Her lips were doing their best to swallow his, their tongues struggling against one another for dominance, or else she might have begun screaming with the new flurry of stimulation he was stoking inside her. Rolling eruptions burst against the pit of her stomach as his hammering staff pummelled her down against the floor below.

She was practically sucking the air from his lungs to keep up with her gasping need. He was feeling a liquid fire rise in his loins. Instinctively, their bodies welded together inside their own personal bubble of molten libido. Neither could tell anymore which one of them was pushing, who was pulling, who was driving and who was wanting the most. At the point of maximum invigoration, they were each seized and taken by an earth-shattering release.

Suddenly there was not enough air for them to continue feeding on each other's breath: their kiss tore apart explosively, both of them choking for oxygen enough to ride out the tempest of pleasure that tore through their bodies and made their limbs tingle. His head arched backward with abandon as hers collapsed back upon the soft rug, while their lower bodies continued mindlessly to copulate over and over, stoking the rolling waves of ecstasy which they continue to share for long, profound seconds of climax. Right in the eye of the storm, his spearing rod erupted in a spray of white, hot sap, buried deep inside her, filling her most private place with his seed. After several strident spurts, stretching out her inner chamber with the load, he subsided and began to withdraw slowly from her saturated sex.

Her arms and legs exhausted and relaxed enough to let him; he pulled away from her embrace at long last and slumped down next to her on the rug. Breathing hard, he reached a shaky, shivering hand over to clumsily caress her flank and close over one of her heaving breasts with a fumble. One of her hands reached up reflexively to seize his wrist, an echo of their half-forgotten first touch, but rather than try to remove the interloper she seemed content just with grasping hold of him. Lying alongside one another like that, spent yet still clinging together, they each surrendered bit by bit to the subtle encroachment of gentle, satisfied sleep.

* * *

The next morning, after a parting kiss that lingered (and which was delivered with far more blatant hunger than she'd intended), she felt the need to say something:

"Um... Look, thanks..."

"...Call me Jacques. And you were pretty sensational yourself; or did you mean, about our little agreement regarding the authorities, Zara?" he indulged in a smug grin that spiked her conflicting resentment for him before adding, "Either way, feel free to drop back in again some time!"

The last part was delivered casually, but she could still hear his eagerness. That grin stayed with her as she left, through the front door this time. As did the most valuable little knickknack she'd spotted in the whole place, a vintage ashtray studded with gems in 22-karat gold that weighed enough to be solid. She wondered if he would be angry, if and when he found it gone: possibly not, as in its tucked-away place on an out-of-the-way shelf, she'd left a tangled heap of her knickers; she'd even found one of his business cards on a desk, 'Jacques Hastings - International Import/Export', and scribbled a quick '~Z xxx' on the back to go with them. She'd have more than enough from the proceeds of fencing the ashtray to buy another pair, something more exotic. Maybe she'd let him see those too, 'some time'...