This isn’t exactly fantasizing. It did happen this past summer. But as I awoke with a very hard erection this morning, thoughts of the hotel room came flooding back. For well more than an hour she had had an orgasm every several seconds. No more than 15 to 20 seconds apart for 60+ minutes. I had fed her voracious need with my cock, my tongue, her vibrator, and for the longest time, my fingers and hand. Four fingers worked best. Pressing her g-spot firmly sent her over the precipice and usually meant a warm, powerful gush into my open palm. I was falling deeply for her as I studied her face the whole time. I spoke softly to her, I whispered my love in her ear.
There were no words back, only slight nods in acknowledgement, the pleasure too numbing. Placid, classic beauty shifted through the seconds into a wanton, needing goddess of the feminine divine. She arched, she contorted, her green orbs rolled back. The slightly parted lips revealing the pearls of her teeth rounded into a perfect “O” before the animal groan to her climax. The off white hotel room’s walls surely were over the saturation point absorbing the flood of orgasmic grunts. While one hand pressed in her pussy, my other would gently enclose her slim neck, or circle and tweak her erect nipples. Fingers lovingly stroked her cheek and then could slide down and brush along her abdomen and drop to fondle along the inside of a thigh. Each light touch of my hand stoked the embers of ecstasy that coursed through her body.
At last my own wantonness began to return. I could feel the hardness happening. I half chuckled at nature’s perversity, the female’s ability to orgasm almost continuously when lovingly stimulated contrasted to the male’s requirement to regroup and refresh.
I told her to get on her hands and knees. She complied without a word and languidly, turned and raised herself. I moved her to the side of the bed. As I felt her soft skin along the length of her back and my fingers caressed her upturned ass, I thought of the contrast she would be feeling as my steel like erection would enter her. I forewarned of the abrupt change with a quick, hard push down on her back, driving her head into the pillow.
I grabbed her arms and clasping her wrists with my left hand, I pinned them behind her back and jammed her down harder with my right. Then using my right to guide, I slowly entered her dripping, waiting pussy. I heard … I felt … her gasp. Pumping slowly into her, my erection was stiffening like mad, as though I hadn’t already cum hard several times earlier.
The room held nothing but contrasts. Dim natural light slipping between darkened curtains shadowing the white lovers’ bodies. The young, beautiful, soft and nubile … the old, hard and grizzled. The warm … the cold. The south … the north.
I watched my reflection in the grey glass of the picture across the room. Taut torso, bending backward before each thrust. The act, a physical need as old as the beginning of the species, yet the emotional bond as deep as the human soul can dive. How can these polar opposites possibly attract? How can a momentary union connect and bond two so disparate creatures together perpetually as one?
Her breathing moved up tempo, her moaning intensified. I could feel her as she clenched around my hardness. Cries and gurgling were pushing me to the edge. As I continued to hold her wrists tightly, the walls suddenly echoed with her shout as she came hard. Two, maybe three, probably four pumps later I, too cried out savagely. I held her, releasing her wrists, with one arm around the front of her body, my head resting gingerly on her back. More whispers in her ear. Then we decoupled, her head safely cached upon my shoulder.
Sweet, soft words and tender grasps and touching. I kissed her forehead, and then her lips Her breasts begged for my hands, her nipples my fingers. The touching commenced anew. The embers inside began to glow. This goddess was far from sated.
I knew four fingers would work best.