Robin Michelle Writes











{23 March 2011}   #WankWednesday ~~ #Spare

Written in response to Ruby Kiddell’s #WankWednesday challenge. Visit her blog, The Erotic Notebook, for more.

Spare

Right now, at this point in time, I have nothing left of me to spare to anyone else. For any reason. So when I say yes to fucking you, you need to understand that fucking is all it is.

It is not about romance, or love, or even friendship. I don’t want to know your name, what you do, or anything else about you. Your intelligence and education are important only as they apply to your ability to give me what I need. Only that you’ll fuck me until I’ve had enough. It is not about me wanting to please you, to be what you want, to make you come hard. It is purely for the physical release that I need.

The only reason I’ve said yes is because I need your body, your mouth, your hands, your cock to bring me the release I crave. No fantasy, no toy can satiate my lust as another body can.

I will use you, as long as I need to. I will tell you what I need you to do. How to start at my neck, licking and nibbling, and then work your way down, making sure to spend adequate time on my breasts, teasing my nipples to rock-hardness with both your mouth and your hands. If you’re doing it right, my heart rate will accelerate, my breathing will become audible and rapid, and I will feel each tug and twist and pinch of a nipple not only there but also as an increasing tingling in my clit. I will start to gasp and moan, softly at first, as my arousal heightens and my cunt swells and moistens.

Placing my hands on first your shoulders, and then your head, I’ll guide you down further, until your heated body rests between my legs. There should be no hesitation as you spread me open and lower your mouth to me. You’ll use your tongue to lick along my slit, from bottom to top and back again, pausing now and again to circle and press on my clit, to suckle my labia, to probe and fuck.

As my moaning increases and my body moves in reaction to your touch, you’ll slide one, then two fingers inside, curving them just right to find my swollen and sensitive g-spot, then stroking and pressing while your mouth and tongue continue to work my clit. I can feel the pressure building, my legs are shaking, my breathing ragged as each moment you bring me closer to the edge. Rational thought has fled, replaced by increasing tension and sensitivity until with one overwhelming burst of energy, I come, flooding you and the bed with my juices.

You barely give me time to catch my breath before you flip me over and pull me up to my knees. I hear the sound of the condom wrapper tearing and feel your body shifting on the bed as your roll it onto your cock. Without a word, you place your hands on my hips, gripping fiercely, fingers digging into my flesh. For a brief moment, I feel the head of you cock pressing against my slick swollen labia, then with one hard thrust  you are fully inside. I gasp as you stretch and fill me and push back against you, feeling your belly press against my ass. I try to rise to my hands, but you remove a hand from my hips and leaning forward,  you press it into my head, forcing me to stay down. Your roughness serves only to make me orgasm again, a scream bursting out.

But it’s not enough, yet, and you know it. So you keep thrusting, sometimes fast and hard, sometimes slower and easier, but never stopping your movement. And I come and come and come again, until my breath is raspy, my hair is matted with sweat, my skin flushed. Behind my closed eyes, I see flashes of light, starbursts with each deep thrust. My legs are shaking, barely able to support me. So you go back to gripping my hips, forcing me to stay up, forcing me to take each of your thrusts, until finally, finally, I hear your breathing change, I feel your cock become harder, hotter and larger, stretching my sore cunt just enough more so that as you shake and pound me with your orgasm, I also come one last long screaming time.

We both collapse, but not together. There is no cuddling. No snuggling. No basking in the afterglow. I don’t even turn to look at you. To do so would somehow make this more real, more meaningful than what it was — a fuck just for fucking’s sake. So, once my breathing slows, I rise, I dress, fix my hair and makeup, and leave, sparing no more time on you.

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