Delirium
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Breathlessly Nearing Delirium free porn video
As her lips wrapped around him once more he threw his head back in pleasure and groaned through his clenched jaw. He was in love with the way she sucked cock. Even if he couldn't stand being around her anymore, and she made a great toy for his use. It never crossed his mind that she was only for his use, but that's what made her such a great whore. It was her partly her sluttiness that attracted him to her.
The taste of him was a little different. More like usual, once he had emptied himself of that backed up load. He was holding the tip of his cock at the threshold of her throat as she licked the base of his shaft. Her deep mouth could nearly accommodate the length of him, but not quite. It didn't help that he was too thick for her to truly deepthroat. He made her work at blowing him. It's not that licking her girlfriend's pussy didn't take work to do well, it just didn't put her through quite the same type of physical strain.
She looked up toward him to make eye contact but he still wasn't looking. After another moment of holding her still he released the pressure, and after allowing her to reflexively back a few inches away, he pulled her back in. That's the way he likes it. He gets to control the pace, but it still feels like a blowjob and not a face-fuck. Of course, that can only go on so long before he hits her wrong and she gags. After a minute, or maybe two that is exactly what happened. She wrenched herself out of his grasp violently and instinctively pulled herself out of range. Gagging and sputtering, she covered her face for a moment while her stomach turned, but she controlled herself.
After taking a deep breath, she gave him the finger and said "Fuck you!" as she always does when he lets that happen. Of course, she knew that she was the whore in that scenario, and good whores do what they're told – if only to a point.
"Get back over here," is all he said, and the second she was done coughing that's exactly what she did.
"You're an asshole."
"And you're a slut."
"Clearly. Is that part of a larger point, or are you just making stupidly obvious observations?"
"You get all the pussy you can handle, but you still need this cock."
"First of all, I get all the dick I can handle too, and then some. I may need yours even so, but it's literally the only thing I need from you. So, you know, go fuck yourself," she paused for just a moment for comic effect, “Oh wait, you can’t. You need a pussy because you have no imagination, and mine’s the only one you ever get to use anymore.”
His response to that was nonverbal. His hand shot forward and clasped around her throat. It was easy for him to wrap his fingers more than halfway around her neck. Regardless of his loathing, he never put excessive pressure on her. He focused it on the sides, and pressed against her windpipe but never obstructed it. Sometimes she wished he'd do more, but she knew that he wasn't the one to explore that with, and he never would be. Still it took focus to breathe completely unimpeded, and that was the feeling of restraint that she was looking for. Fake helplessness. Knowing that she could turn the tables at the drop of a hat was just as important, though.
He pulled her into his lap and skewered her down on his cock again, but this time he didn't hold her. She flung herself back and choked on the air which took the place of his hard shaft. When the gasping and sputtering was once again over, he stood up, took her by the hair and pulled her to the edge of the couch where he held the back of her head and put the tip himself back into her mouth. She knew that was it. The true face-fucking was about to begin.
Once he started, there was no stopping him. The only thing she could do was relax and endure. That night she tried playing with herself as his cock slid in and out of her throat. It was gentler than some nights. He wasn't trying to hurt her. He was just enjoying himself with little regard for her. Once she had properly relaxed his cock slid in and out of her throat seamlessly.
It was fun for a while, and when it was not anymore she stopped him simply and easily. She dragged her nails down his sides before taking hold of his hips and digging her claws into him like daggers. As always, this promptly brought him to a halt. As always, she wondered how much he enjoyed it. He made a grinding sort of noise through his teeth as she did it, before making a fist out of her hair and pulling her off of him at his pace. The ritual continued according to tradition... but she wasn't exactly prepared. They only very rarely made it so far as that.
Steeling herself for the imminent, she breathed deeply as he stood. He pulled her to her feet by her hair and dragged her behind the couch, where he bent her over. All of her breath was forcefully expelled with surprise as he slapped her ass while she exhaled. He smiled at the way her ass rippled and struck her again, this time even harder. The sound of the second impact echoed around from room to room of his ancient, deteriorating apartment.
"Ow!"
He did it one more time, and she whipped around, glaring at him. Responding nonverbally, he put his hand on her shoulder and flung her back into position. She could hear him stroking his wet cock behind her, and smiled in anticipation. He pressed it against her tight asshole. He was as hard as she'd ever known him to be. She took a long breath and held it deep inside of her when he took hold of her hips.
It's not like her ass isn't always tight, but that night it was quite unusually so. She opened to him when he pushed in, which hurt enough by itself but he stopped when he was barely inside her. After a short wait to let her adjust, he clenched her hips in his fists, driving his nails into her hard. Her voice escaped her but she stifled it before more than a fraction of a second had gone by.
Even less time than usual had passed before he was moving full speed. He always fucked her hard, but he showed no mercy as he drove into her. She knew his screaming was getting him off. It was impossible to stop. Incidentally it's also the only reason she was trying to keep quiet. It's not like any efforts in that area were making any difference, though. The force he fucked her with pushed her against the couch so hard her arms buckled and she wound up with her face flat against them on the edge of the couch.
He let go of her hips abruptly, and she sighed instinctive relief for a moment. Only a moment, though. She arrested her breath immediately as she felt his nails raked down her back. It was like sharpened fire, and as abrupt a sensation as looking at the sun. Again. The third time he used only one hand, because the other had taken hold of her hair at the base and twisted it around his wrist. He used the makeshift ponytail as a handle as he kept fucking her. The way he held it pulled him down toward her as much as it held her head back. His free hand clawed up and down her left side, then roughly took hold of her breast. At first he massaged it, then grasped it roughly, and finally he took her nipple between his thumb and first finger. He rolled it back and forth, slowly increasing the pressure until touching became pinching.
In the next few moments they were both getting close. Very close. Too close, even. They both needed it to last just a little longer. Of course they wanted to cum, but they also wanted to bask in the intensity of their loathing for each other, for it was the most potent feeling either of them had ever felt. It burned like wildfire, savaging the land for miles in every direction... yet they knew it could burn out in an instant.
As he paused for a moment she thrust back at him hard to knock him away from her and pulled herself reluctantly off of his cock. He tried to take hold of her and force it back in, but she twisted her body and shoved him back again with an elbow to the shoulder. The impact knocked him down, which she hadn't intended. Still, she did want him on the floor so she paid no mind to the inadvertent bruises which the fall probably inflicted on him.
She climbed atop him and held his cock tightly, using it as a handle as she found the right position. For a very long moment she stroked it against her pussy, rubbing the throbbing head on her wet clit. Part of her wished he would just explode at that moment. She imagined pulse after pulse of hot cum flowing against her while she jerked him straight against her. He didn't. She could tell he had to put in significant effort to hold back though.
The sensation in his cock was overwhelmingly pleasurable, but dangling over the precipice where pleasure turns to pain. On the verge of agony, he gritted his teeth as she slid the tip of him backward and gripped it with her ass, holding it right just right to push herself onto it. At the moment she began to move her hips toward his, she locked him into deep eye contact. She knew he wanted to look away. He knew he could not.
On any other day he would be watching her ride him. He loved to see the way her tits moved, and the motion of her body flowing from shoulder to ass as she bounced up and down on his ragingly hard shaft. The feeling of her sliding down over him was almost too much. A bit of cum shot out of his cock once he was insider her, but not so much that it couldn't have just been pre-cum. She was so hot, tight, and more than a little wet from how soaked her pussy was.
Moments after she began fucking him she broke the eye contact and began scanning the room. It was obvious she was searching for something, but he didn't know what. After several additional seconds spent looking, she found what she sought. He was surprised at how she never lost focus on him – or, at least she never lost focus on what she wanted out of his body.
The worn leather strap of her purse was a bright an indigo as the day it was dyed, and caught her eye with sufficient ease. In a nearly acrobatic maneuver, she arched her back and bent backward, craning her neck back just for the stretch, shifted her weight to one side so she could support herself with a single hand, rolled her shoulder back so she could reach under it, hooked the strap with one finger, and unfurled her arm with such strength that she nearly hit him square in the face with the full mass of the contents of her bag – which was not inconsiderable that night. Instead it landed on the aged hardwood next to his head with a considerable thump, colliding only lightly with the side of his face. She wondered if that too would bruise, and preemptively felt a little bad if it did, since it might mean him missing work.
Of course, something like that would never be enough get her to stop. Not when she was so close, and especially not when she could tell that she was going to cum so hard. There was even a faint hope about what that intensity might do to her body. It was faint, but bright enough that she was already preparing remarks – in the back of her mind, though. The foreground of her mental landscape was far too focused on the hard, throbbing cock in her ass, and the strong, soft hands that roughly grasped her increasingly sensitive breasts. Punctuated by a long pinch of each nipple, the hands migrated to her hips and pulled her closer to their master.
She gasped as he filled her in a way she had not been in months. The pain lowered her guard long enough for his hands to move behind her, take hold of her ass, and pulled her onto him completely. He let her rest for only a moment before he began to fuck her again. Supporting himself with his hands behind him, he thrust into her hard enough that he lifted her off the ground a little further with each succeeding motion.
Driven dramatically closer to orgasm, she took control of the situation one more time before losing control of herself completely. Gripping her cock as hard as she could, she used his moment of shock to take him by the shoulders and push him back to the floor again. It took only an instant to find what she was after in her bag, and only an instant to switch it on and press it against her clit.
Vibrating where they fit together, they both felt amazing. They both hovered over the precipice of orgasm but did not yet fall. She ground against him, trying to push him deeper into her than was actually possible. Running the tip of the vibrator around her clit in slow smooth circles felt wonderful, but it quickly devolved into mashing the toy against her as hard as she could. Breath heaved violently, and vocally. Eyes rolled back.
The second it began, she willed the device away from what it was doing, leaned backward, and shoved it into her pussy as hard as she could. She was so wet that it was easy to fuck herself, despite being so tight. This was the longest edge of an orgasm in recent memory for either of them, and it was razor-honed. He started before she did, but not by much. As his cock throbbed inside her, she felt the first shots of his hot cum in her ass. She kept fucking herself, as hard and as fast as possible. She was making herself even more sore than she was already going to be, but no part of her cared at all.
As he spasmed insider her and thrashed beneath her, he held her hips down as tightly as possible. His muscles were locked, and there was no escape. That was it. They were ensnared in each other, just as it always ended. Adjusting her balance, she leaned forward enough to put her hand on his put one hand on the ground and one on his chest. Holding the toy in place as she ground down on him, she latched her hand to his throat and gripped hard.
Instinctively, his rigid arm let go of her hip and shot to her neck, like someone switched an electric current. The competition they were locked in enhanced the moment in the most excruciating fashion. Both could feel their breath tighten without closing. Their eyes locked as tightly as ever they had, and each began digging their nails into the other. It was impossible to say how long it went on, but probably along the lines of a momentary eternity. There they were, entangled by the other’s body, like a bramble of glistening skin, nails, teeth, and sex. Grinding, writhing, choking, gasping. Everything was fragmented. Thoughts… Emotion. Logical fallacies and dusty memories… Profound, undeniable, inexplicable arousal.
A once dim hope flared instantly into passionate, imminently realistic fantasy. One more second and it was reality. She knew it was going to happen, and the instant she realized she pulled the toy out of her and tossed it aside. The sound it made on the floor was far louder than he imagined, but it couldn’t distract him.
Milliseconds later, she flung her hips upward, then slammed her ass back onto his cock. Over and over again she did this, and every time a burst of hot, clear liquid gushed out of her, spraying his face and covering his chest. He had been slowing down, but this coaxed one more tremendous jolt of cum from him before his orgasm began to decline. As hers began to as well, she squirted twice more with less force, then pulsed a few more small splashes onto his stomach.
When they finally finished, both collapsed at nearly the same instant. He had already been on the floor, but all function drained from him the second he was done. She slumped forward, half laying atop him.
In the aftermath of their unholy and completely debauched misbehavior, the both of them were breathlessly nearing delirium. At first completely, but soon she began to regain her senses. Faster than he did, though she was in dramatically more pain. That much more when she fell off of him and hit her elbow against the foot of an end table. The impact rocked it back and forth, knocking an ash tray to the floor which clattered loudly.
The adrenaline was unbelievable. Not to mention the serotonin, dopamine, oxytocin, and testosterone. Analyzing the chemistry of the experience was something she did in moments like that one to remind herself that she can only see him through a fog of hormones, and that her vision is not to be trusted in this case. The second she hit the floor they both burst out laughing. Cackling, really. Like a fountain of joy had been unleashed like a hydrant, but without anything to be joyful about. Their voices echoed around the high ceilings and brick walls of his aged apartment for minutes before either could control themselves even a little. They laughed until their whole bodies hurt. They laughed until they just felt sad. All that was left for her to do was recover first, and get the fuck out of there.
Staggering to her feet, she was happy she hadn’t driven. In fact, she was alarmed by how challenged she was by the process of simply standing. It was like trying to stay level on the deck of a ship at sea while drunk. She looked down and giggled to herself with vaguely sinister delight. He was drenched, and there was a puddle forming at each side of him, spreading very slowly across the hardwood. He was trying to come up with a 'slippery when wet' joke, but nothing that rolled off the tongue came to mind, so he just kept laying there, dumbfounded by his own pleasure.
Needing to be gone, she spoke up again as she frantically gathered her clothes, "I'm just to excuse myself, now. You don't need any help cleaning that up, right?" She smiled calmly at him as she said it, despite the rushed way she lurched from possession to possession, stuffing them in her purse.
She dressed in the fewest articles of clothing possible while he laid their chasing control of his breath and not protesting. She bent down to pick up her toy, kissed the air in his general direction, and on her way out the door slipped it back into her purse unwashed.
The journey down his hallway to the rickety metal stairs and even more unstable elevator was a challenge in itself, and in this rare instance, she was more comfortable with the elevator. The slow, lurching ride shifted her here and there, demonstrating clearly how sore she was, and reminding her of how much more so she soon would be. She passed someone else who seemed to recognize her, but oddly felt a little less like retching than she might have had she not left him upstairs with such a wonderful mess. For a moment she wondered if he was still lying there.
As she awkwardly stumbled through the growing discomfort toward her station, she took her phone out of her bag. When she unlocked it she found that his message to her from earlier in the evening was still on the screen. She scoffed to herself at the notion that a declaration of hatred can summon her to his doorstep to be used as his slut, but it didn't exactly bother her. She took step after uncomfortable step toward the train, quickening her pace in the hopes that she wouldn't miss it.
Starting to worry that she might be just a minute or two behind, she began to hurry. As she weaved through the shadows she cast a look over her shoulder toward his illuminated window, then pulled out her phone, and typed "I hate you too. You're disgusting."
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