The way she was breathing kept her tits heaving under their own excessive weight. Her eyes were hooded to slits. She might have looked furious if she’d had clothes on.

He wanted to scoop her opulent mounds into his hands and squeeze until she whined he was squeezing too hard, but his hands were planted on her wrists against the mattress and his arms were fencepost straight, holding him upright.

His cock was rock solid and the underbelly pulsed against the hot furrow between her distended cunt lips. She was the kind of sin the angels who hadn’t fallen yet were made of – the kind they were still only thinking of committing.

He lowered to one nipple and licked it, laving the tender nub with his tongue, making it as wet and sloppy as he could. She tasted faintly of girl sweat from tending her flowers in the yard earlier.

He licked the other nipple. No sucking. No finesse. Like his tongue was a brush and he just wanted to paint her body with spit.

Maybe he’d be sweet and loving some other time.

He sucked her nipples each in turn, sucking hard and letting her feel the wet swirl of his tongue. She whimpered each time he let one go with a pop.

Rising, he looked at her face again, wanting to let her hands go so he could feel them explore his body. But he didn’t trust her. She’d only reach straight down for his vibrating fuckstick and jam it into her froth drizzled cunt.

Already, he could feel that tiny, oceanic rock of her hips while she slicked her hungry slit against the spine of his broiling cock. She looked like she wanted to speak but her breath kept blowing out the words like candle flames.

She arched to drag her slit up his shank and mashed her oozing lips against his knob. The gesture weakened him and she knew it.

He bore down harder onto her wrists. She ground on him harder, wetter, fleshier. Somewhere in there her clit was gnashing across the underside of his cockhead.

He knew.

All she wanted was to feel his meat shove into her pocket and pound her, but he arched his hips and slipped his gristle higher until he caught her clit under the base of his shaft and mashed his balls into her pussy.

He rolled his hips and massaged her syrup-lathered slash with his sac. She started grinding back harder, trying to capture his shaft again while she fought his grip.

Bearing down harder, he watched her squirm, listening to her struggle to form words through whimpers and gasps.

“Just fuck me. Fuck me hard.”

It was one of those times she got that catch in her voice. Her intent husky and full of overpowering need. But her voice was her voice was her voice and however gut-wrenching her lust, there was always that sweet, girly ring that would never leave her tone.

“Say it again.” Grinding into her pussy with as much pressure as his balls could take.

“Fuck me hard.”

“Again.”

“Fuck me hard.”

He looked down intently at her face, his palms still pinning her wrists. There was a darkness that only came into her eyes at times like this, as if this were the dark side of love and want. As if love and want had a dark side at all.

Being inside her was the opposite of darkness. Wanting to be inside her was the sudden flash of lightning in the seconds before heat thunder ripped the sky apart. The only darkness he knew was the entire rest of the of the world at noon, rushing hell-bent on choking to death on its own obsession with nothing.

Her breath was growing even deeper and her tits shuddered. If there was darkness in any of this, it had to be in the body’s need to ride the feeling to the end at any cost.

He didn’t want to fuck her hard. He only wanted her to need him to fuck her hard. He wanted to watch her thrash and squirm, not from what he was going to give her, but from the more and more and more he was going to hold back.

“If I let your wrists go are you going to behave?”

Her eyes rolled to the side and her lips curled into a petulant smirk. “I can’t promise anything.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“Best I can do.”

He mashed his balls against her cunt again, then slid down, bringing the tip of his stalk against her clit and stroking the whole length up along her slit a few times.

Cautiously, he let go of her left wrist. She instantly reached for his cock, trying to jam his rod into her cunt maw, but he reared his hips backward before she had a chance.

“Touch your clit.”

“No,” she whined.

He spoke in a carefully measured voice, straining to hold himself in check.

“If you want my cock inside you, then touch your clit. Rub it like you do in private…when you’re thinking and dreaming the kind of filth you wouldn’t dream of confessing to the devil. Touch and we fuck. Stop and I pull out. Simple as that.”

“Fuck.”

But she did what he said, grinding her fingers in a circular mash on her bud. He pushed the blunt knob of his cock against her folds and slowly pushed his shaft inside. His muscles felt like they were turning to stone as he strained to hold steady, shaft wracked with throbbing as he slid in and out with excruciating care. Fractions of fractions of inches.

She rubbed her pussy furiously, grinding back with rolling hips.

“Fuck just fuck just fuck.”

Then and only then did he fuck her hard. And then harder. Until they were fucking so hard he thought his body was going to fly apart.