Philippe claims my mouth, kissing me so hard and deep that I can feel my head pressing back into the mattress. I can feel him. There. Right there. He’s so close—all hardness and heat and passion. I curl my leg over one massive hip and get my foot into position on his ass cheek—seriously, can an ass cheek actually be made of granite—and press in. At least, I try to press my heel in, but his butt cheek is seriously rock hard, and my heel does absolutely no sinking in.
“Are you sure?” he pants against my mouth.
“Yes,” I gasp. I just about bite his tongue since it’s swept into my mouth again.
His hips flex, and all of a sudden, he’s there. Soft, but also hard. Scalding. Thick. And right there. I wriggle under him, trying to tell him to hurry the hell up before I combust, and the entire bed catches on fire, and we lose our chance because the sprinklers start going off overhead, and the fire department has to be called. I arch my hips, arch my back, arch my shoulders and neck, and arch my freaking tongue into his.
His hips flex again in response, and I can feel him trembling as soon as I reach up and set my hands at his shoulders to try and tug him into me that way. I can tell he’s trying to hold back. Trying not to hurt me. I feel the trembling, and I feel how big he is. He might act like he doesn’t care, doesn’t feel anything at all, but I can see him physically straining as he tries to make sure I’m okay.
I wriggle my hips a little, taking just a little bit of him. He’s huge. It does stretch me, and it does hurt. It also does burn, but I need more. I need him. All of him.
“Please, god, Philippe, for god sakes, just freaking…”
I tilt my hips as he flexes his. He silences my words with another searing kiss, but he gives me what I want. Just a little bit more, but even that feels like everything. He’s big, and I’m already full. All I can do is whimper into his mouth as he kisses me senseless. I writhe beneath him. I can already feel all the blood rushing away from all my extremities. My hands are cold, my feet are freezing, and my legs are completely numb. It all feels so good.
When Philippe moves his hips again, I arch up into him. Not only do I take him deeper, but I take all of him this time. It surprises me, and I let out a little whimper-scream into his mouth. I couldn’t have imagined what it would feel like to have him buried all the way inside me. Couldn’t have imagined how amazing it would be to have him hit spots I didn’t even know were a thing. But now, I know. Now, I definitely freaking know because he’s starting to move, and he’s creating pure fucking magic in there. I think he just started a party with unicorns and narwhales and llamas and succulents and all other trendy, artsy things everyone is so obsessed with. Because I’m obsessed with him. I’m obsessed with how he fits, the sparks he’s sending out with every single movement and thrust of his hips. Obsessed with the secret spots and all the inner wall buttons he’s pushing.
All I can do is lie there like a piece of overcooked spaghetti and let him teach me that I, in fact, up until this moment, knew nothing about my own vagina. He takes me higher. Higher and further with every single thrust. I’m barely conscious because I already feel like I’m flying. And he’s not even thrusting that hard. In fact, he’s barely moving.
And then, out of nowhere, I’m not just flying. I’ve been hit by a lightning strike, and I’m plummeting towards the ground. I hit hard and burst apart. The climax sneaks up on me from the tips of my toes, the ends of my fingers, and the crown of my head. All that blood flows from everywhere else, straight to my center, and bam! Orgasm city.
My vision goes completely black. I feel like I’m floating. Sinking. Flying. Falling. But in reality, I’m probably panting and gasping, curling around Philippe like a sticky starfish all while I vibrate as if I’ve just been struck with a cattle prod, which is amazing for someone who feels nearly catatonic. My vagina, however, is doing a happy dance. Detaching from me, burning her bra, and parading around the room screaming something along the lines of holy fuck yeah, this is living at last!
Philippe keeps thrusting even as I come all around him. He keeps thrusting, and I keep coming. All that pleasure keeps hitting me, bursting over me, and draining me until I’m completely spent. And then, just when I think I’m coming back down to normal, he pulls out, rears up on his knees and slowly, intentionally, and devastatingly pumps his cock with his hand. Over and over.
He keeps pumping until he’s coming too, in hot jets all over my quaking stomach, my trembling thighs, everywhere. And yes, it is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and yes, I do get a second mini-climax that is not nearly as insane as the first one, but I do get all shuddery and gaspy and breathless again.
“Oh my god,” I gasp when it’s over. I’m still trembling just a little, but my muscles have at least relaxed enough to obey
