1. Derelict


    Date: 12/7/2014, Categories: Reluctance, Author: Possibly, Rating: 12, Source: LushStories

    and softened his approach. His new attempt was successful; his bulbous circumcision eased right in. Pressing my forehead into the mattress, I held my ass cheeks open, took a deep breath, and relaxed my sphincter. I took in half his length, my usual. But he was determined to sink his entire shaft. Little by little, he drove past the point of my breaking. As uncomfortable as it was, I knew the pull out and shove in would be even more delightful - not. I inhaled as he pulled back; I exhaled as he pressed in – all the way. “My god,” escaped my lips, and I reminded myself that this was it. I let go of my butt cheeks, and reached for my pleasure, my relief – my cat. As if he were not in as far as he could go, he put his left foot on the bed and plunged in further. Repeatedly, flesh balls smacked my hands, as I massaged my soggy vee lips and eased three fingers inside kitty. My thumb and pinky deterred its mates from reaching my g-spot, and I was too far away from the night table drawer to grasp a toy. So on the outstroke, I included my pinky in the mix and dug in a little deeper. The gauge on my back and front read ‘full to capacity.’ He pounded my ass much as I’d imagined him hammering my cat. I traded strokes. He drove in as I pulled out. I pressed in as he backed out. Each movement was a departure from pain; each movement landed in pleasure. The essence, the aroma of hedonism bloomed. Sweat rolled free, and scratches satisfied itches. It was finished. We were done. He wanted ...
    marriage, but I just couldn’t commit. Although we both worked in finance, we were too different. Our commonalities were too thin, and nobody wanted to compromise. I loved an all white; he loved a bright red. I loved everything in its place; he didn’t care where he left his things. I loved sexually diverse experiences; he loved anal sex, period. I was intense; he was indifferent. After three years with this man, my relationship with Michael was over. He left his weekend stuff – clothing, books, toiletries, and miscellaneous crap; Michael never returned to claim a thing, not even me. One year passed since that night. Now, the sweats, the heather grey double XL men’s sweats belonged to Adam. *** An hour later, I cracked the guest bathroom door to see what I could see. Then I realized that I really didn’t want to see it, so I shut the door with quickness. The steam escaped though; the moist hot gave me a special sample of what was really going on. The soap fragrance was trying to cover Adam’s Eau de Vagrant , but just barely. For over an hour, he soaked, scrubbed, and then soaked some more, or so I believed. Sounds of water draining from the tub gave me the impression that he was finished. But no, moments later I heard the swish of the shower. Au revoir, hot water. I didn’t want a hot shower anyway. Plus, there’s nothing like a cold shower in sub-freezing temperatures. So, go ahead...hog the hot water. My work was waiting on the counter, anyway. I concentrated my energies on ...
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