Snippet #1956172

Her voice in her rising her hips was a very pleasing one to feel. It stiffened him, and it absolved him. With his strong hands, he anchored her back to the bed somewhat roughly but it was a ruse--he was being dominant. He felt her fingers with some amount of fumbling, peel back his trousers and slid against the tip of his cock. The soft flow of her fingers over him harnessed his attention. He was not a vocal man, he did not groan. But that did not mean he did not like it. She had other identifiers, other red flags so to speak, to alert her to his tastes.

For instance, looking at him now his cloudy blues would appear to almost swirl. But they weren't, it was simply his eyes displaying his gratification. He would, however, profess his relishing of his contentedness and delight by only furthering his advances. His breath becoming 'hitched' pausing in the back of his throat like hissing sound yet the produced sensation of the air released from his lips was like searing flames that melted her skin as it blew on past the small dip at the base of her throat and in-between her collarbones. She would then feel his teeth, in frenzy, settle against the crook of her neck, the back of it--against the vein that throbbed wildly along the side of her throat.

How he loved to bite.

While his teeth made harmless indentations of themselves, the nerves would react accordingly; hair-raising, gooseflesh and and accentuated by the swelling of warmth and blood to the area producing a vividly multicolored bruise. His hand had rocked and gyrated, grinding against her folds making her anxious and antsy-ardent. his fingers peeled her lace boyshorts down her slim and fit lit thighs, to her knees and to her feet. Tugging his own loose boxers down he threw them with the rest of the clutter on the floor. Sliding his hands up the outsides of her thighs, embracing her hips as she could feel the tip of his hard shaft pressing, simply pressing against her wet veil.

Chester leaned up, and kissed her as he settled his weight down upon her slowly, but not all the way--he was still pushed up by his bent elbows. His lips would blend seamlessly with hers; tongue caressing her lips softly until they parted and she could taste the cinnamon of his tongue. It was when she was the most drunk on the venom of the kiss he had given her that he would gradually push inside. He penetrated her barrier by retracting slowly and thrusting forwards swiftly. His entire length was now being squeezed him, pressed on him and in return, every nerve amongst them were highly receptive to the pleasurable sensation that was occurring--he hadn't stopped. His hips still lurched forwards in repetitive motions; grinding himself against her tight walls.

Somewhere, inside the back of his mind, unaware, he had pulled the trigger to his own self destruction.