Recognizing My Fantasy

Xavier just marveled at her. The first orgasm had made Leah loud—the second one robbed her of speech. He could see her eyes close, her nostrils flare, her mouth open in a silent "o". She stroked back on his dick long and deep. He rode it out with her until her spasms caused his own orgasm to erupt. He gripped her hips and plunged himself into her over and over and over. His hot nut shot into her ass and he collapsed down on top of her.

Leah felt the heat spurt into her ass and she sighed. The whole experience had been pleasure. And pain. Fear and love and anger and eroticism—she couldn't believe what had happened to her. They rolled over together and fell asleep in each other's arms.

Xavier had fallen asleep but woke up well before dawn—he silently rolled out of Leah's bed and pulled on his clothes. He had decided he'd just go out the back door. He picked up his boots and tiptoed toward the hallway. She'd never know what happened.

"Xavier."

He froze. Then his eyes darted to the bed. She was sitting up, looking at him through thick lenses. His heart beat erratically in his chest. What would she say? Would she be mad? Would she think he was crazy? He was ready to bolt—he certainly wasn't going to respond.

"You can stay the night if you want," Leah said calmly, "But if you leave, be sure to lock the door behind you."

She smiled, took the glasses off, and lay back down. He paused, dropped the boots, and pulled his clothes back off. He climbed back into bed with Leah and settled under the covers.

"How did you—" Xavier started to ask, but she stopped him midsentence, laughing.

"You were the only one I told this fantasy to," she said and kissed him.