Procreative instinct made him piston his penis in her clinging hole.
She was moving under him, lifting and thrusting, meeting each of his drives. She took him full depth, until the head of his phallus jammed against the end of her tunnel, stretching it. He was too far gone to hold back now. All he could do was see how high he could get before he began the long, shuddering tumble, an airplane fighting for altitude before it began the headlong rush earthwards. He quickened his drives, jabbing swiftly into Karen's willing body, cracking his pubic arch against hers, slapping his balls against her ass. His testicles knotted, squeezed, and his prostate erupted in a flare of pleasure as it added fluid and thrust to his coming. Semen surged the length of his prick in a series of jerking pumping bursts. His buttocks knotted, adding their bit to each ecstatic spurt of sperm exploding from the tip of his phallus, spattering deep into Karen's spasming vagina. His orgasm went on and on and on, the product of over a year's celibacy, a month of hoping, and an hour's visual stimulation. The spasming was further prolonged by Karen's skillful milking with her vagina. His organs reached unsurpassed heights as they struggled to drain his overloaded chambers. Eventually, his prick trembling in carnal dry heaves, Harry was left with a delectable exhausted ache in his groin. His cock retracted down the hot length of her clinging hole. He eased off her and lay beside her on the grass, panting quietly. He was aware of the sweat drying on his bare skin, the gentle touch of the breeze, the prickle of the grass. It was fantastic. He had never done it outdoors before. He thought, with a stab of pain, of Sarah, and how it had been with her. Always it had been good, conventional, loving sex, between the sheets, in the bedroom. But, God! How he had loved her, and she him. And then the lump, and the lingering, agonizing wasting death, as her own body cannibalized itself. “Fantastic,” Karen breathed softly.
“Unbelievable,” Harry sighed. How long had it been? Too long.
There had been too much staring at Jan, more and more the image of her dead mother. He had broken out of his cage before he attacked his own daughter. “Feeling better?” Karen asked. “Wasn't feeling bad,” he argued. The sun was burning through his closed eyelids. He shifted his head and found a patch of shade. Karen rolled to her side and stroked his chest with one finger. “You've been as tight as a bull next to a pen of cows,” she argued. “I could smell the hunger in you. How long has it been, Harry?” He shook his head angrily as her question echoed the one he had asked himself only moments before.
“She's dead, Harry,” Karen said bluntly. “She has been dead for almost a year now. It was time for you to start living again.”
Harry frowned, trying to deny her words, yet knowing she was right. He felt her soft fingers curl tenderly around his limp, drained penis. He felt that pale organ respond with a mindless, instinctive jerk. “This isn't going to let you,” Karen pointed out, squeezing his swelling cock. “It has more sense than that. It,” she said, squeezing his prick again, “knows that there is only today, that the past is dead. It knows what is important and what is not. I'll prove it.” She slid her head down his flat, muscular stomach. Her hair tickled his skin as she moved her mouth over his prick. Her lips caressed the bulb of his penis, her tongue bathed the glans, bringing a rush of blood to it. It was mouth to cock resuscitation. As she sucked on his organ, she eased around, slid one leg over his face. He found himself staring into her brown-furred pussy. She smelled deliciously of copulation. As she sucked on his phallus, she offered him her cunt. Her curling brown hair tickled his nose, then his face was smothering in her warm, soft fragrant flesh. He worked his lips and eased his tongue into her hot, wet crevice, even as his mind tried to deny her what she wanted. She was devouring his phallus with a ravenous eagerness that made his body respond in spite of his intellectual reservations. He tasted her hot, metallic flow. He tasted his own semen. He bored his tongue into her flooding vagina, feeling her slick folds ease apart to accept his probe. He curled his hands around her soft, smooth ass and drew her crotch down on his face, and massaged her lush buttocks. His cock was ready. It was more than ready. His balls were humming as they poured out waves of sperm. Then his glands armored them with thick secretions, readying them for the long trip down his phallus. Sensing the nearness of his orgasm, Karen eased off. She kept her mouth on his organ, but didn't move. Her hand was curled around his testicles, a loving nest for his balls. She squeezed gently and he felt his coming easing away, becoming less imminent. Seeking to stimulate her more, he sought her clitoris with his lips. He traced his way along the slithery petals of her slick inner labia, his nose sliding toward her vaginal opening. He felt her inner labia squirm away from his lips and realized he had gone too far. Sucking, he went back to where those folds of flesh formed a point. There, at that hooded peak, he found her hard, tantalizing button of nerves. He pursed his lips around it, and felt her push down on him, driving his head into the grass.
He was aware of nothing but her pussy. There was her smell, and her taste, and her oozings, and her pubic hair. Her sleek thighs were pressing his head. He drowned himself in her, finding unexpected pleasure in the act. He was barely aware of her mouth around his phallus until she began to suck on his prick again. Then, abruptly, he felt still another wave of semen joining what was already waiting. He felt his hot lubricant trickle into her mouth, felt her welcome it with her tongue. She savored his secretions even as he savored hers.
She was coming. She was grinding her pussy against his face as he sucked on her clitoris. He battered her nerve knot with his tongue, and felt her flood his face with her come. Her thighs clamped around his head. She writhed on him, her breasts squirming on his flat, hard belly. Her fingers dug into the back of one thigh as she clung to him with one hand, fondled his balls with the other. If she became confused, lost control, she would geld him instantly. He kept tormenting her sex, as if urging her to do just that. He was trying to justify himself by giving her as much pleasure as possible, trying to drown everything in a sea of sex. She was bringing him to an orgasm with her mouth, her tongue drawing on his prick, urging it to spurt into her mouth. He was going to. He was lifting to that exquisite brink, to the point of no return. If she was aware of his impending orgasm, she gave no sign of it, gave no indication she was going to retreat. He began to come. Hot shots of pleasure spurted the length of his phallus and into her working mouth. He felt her swallowing, and the pressing, sucking action of her tongue caused his cock to erupt even more violently. He poured his hot, sticky load down her throat, and felt the overflow pool around his prick. Then she swallowed again. She wasn't moving her cunt on his face any longer, but was doing her damnedest to crush his head into the hard ground. Her legs bent at the knee, her toes curled as her orgasm peaked. He tried to suck her clit out by the roots, sensing that it was what she wanted. She was still sucking the come out of his cock.
At last he had to wrench his face free in order to breathe.
Heaving oxygen into his exhausted lungs, he felt her come, chill and crusty, drying on his cheeks. His orgasm had passed, leaving an ache of satisfaction in his guts again. She still had his phallus in her mouth. Straddling him, her pussy brushing his throat, his face sticking up between her sleek, tan thighs, she kept sucking his cock.
Even though he had just come a second time, he was still hard. He would never have believed it possible, but blood still flooded his exhausted organ. Even as the last drops of come were drawn into Karen's mouth, he felt new sperm pooling in his guts. Lying there, her thighs pressing his cheeks in a warm embrace, Harry felt the sun on his face, the come on his nose. He felt her sucking mouth urging his body to undreamed of heights. He couldn't tell if he was numbed by the unending stimulation, or sensitized by it. He felt peculiarly detached from his cock. He was only vaguely aware of the delicate pressure, the occasional cut of her teeth. But he was exquisitely aware of her tongue against his glans. He could feel her cheeks pressing the flanks of his prick as she sucked on it. He could feel the blood rushing to the tip of his cock because of the vacuum she was creating there. He knew it was going to take a long, long time for her to bring him off again. At this point, all she was doing was keeping his erection. If she stopped, he'd lose it instantly, and he knew it. Evidently, she knew it, too. She kept her mouth around his cock, kept massaging his organ with her tongue. He felt her breath puffing hotly against him as she breathed through her nose, recovering from her own second coming. He focused his attention on the physical sensations assaulting him. Primary among them was the touch of her mouth on his cock. There was the sweaty slickness of her body on his, a stark contrast to the harsh bristly grass under him. He could feel her breasts, soft and squashy, squirm on his hard belly. He could feel her nipples probing him like burrowing animals. Her inner thighs were satin smooth against his hot cheeks. He stroked his hands down-or was it up?-from her ass towards her shoulders, caressing the flawless expanse of skin. Her body was a graceful series of curves: hips to waist, waist to ribs, ribs to shoulders. He stroked the series over and over again, loving the feel of her. His cock was gaming strength, getting harder and more impatient, but very slowly. His balls were wringing out still more sperm. He was going to come again-eventually. Jeez, how could something that hurt this way feel so damn good, too? He was in agony from the prolonged sexual stimulation, but it was such wonderful, exquisite agony. He stroked his hands down from her shoulders, toward her ass, toward his face. He gripped her buttocks and tried to indicate he was ready and willing to eat her pussy again. But she kept her pussy planted firmly on his throat, her mons nestling his chin. Evidently, she had no desire to be eaten again. Harry didn't mind. All he cared about, all he could think about, was how his
