Tingles Three
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Tingles Twelve free porn video
TINGLES TWELVE
By Katharine Sexkitten
"You were made for cock."
Brad and I were snuggling, his arm wrapped around me, my head on his
shoulder, our bodies warm and breathing hard, but coming down.
He'd just fucked me for the second time this evening.
I have never been happier.
The first fuck of the evening was up against the sliding glass door to
the patio of my hotel suite. We were both so hot and bothered, my
tingles rearing like a wild horse, that his entrance into me was as sweet
as wine.
Muscle memory.
When the skin of his helmet-shaped head touched the skin around the
little dip into my asspussy, for about four or five milliseconds my brain
said 'Hey! There's something here and it's quite large and I think it
wants entry! Are we prepared for that? Do we want that?' Then, about
four or five milliseconds later, my brain slapped itself and said 'DUH!
Of course we want that!' and the signal went out and my pussy just opened
and let him in.
Naturally.
Without pain or discomfort of any kind. As if all the billions of cells
making up the fibrous tissue of my insides all worked as one, forming and
reforming themselves each and every second around the shape of his heat,
his shaft, as it made its way up into me. The bulbous head, the ridges
of the veiny bits, the worm-like bulge underneath running all the way
down to his balls, like millions of years of evolution had demanded and
achieved it, my channel relaxed and expanded and wrapped itself around
him, gripping him, adoring him, trying to milk every last sensory
experience out of having his flesh inside me, moving, thrusting.
Muscle memory.
Anyone for miles around with nothing better to do and a pair of
binoculars would have seen me, dressed in virginal white lingerie,
including a bustier, waist-cincher, panties, garter belt, stockings and
shoes, with the palms of my hands up against the glass, which was
slightly ajar on purpose so my neighbour Angie could hear everything, and
Brad right behind me, his hands gripping onto my hips, his cock
pummelling me from behind, just insane fierceness. It was as if he
thought this was the last chance he'd ever get to fuck my sweet pussy
with his gorgeous cock, and he took to it with the seriousness the
situation deserved.
He spared no expense, he showed me no quarter.
His cock slammed into me with a vitality that surprised me, considering
this was not his first time with me, not the first time he'd made love to
me, nor the first time his cum would be slooshing up my insides when he
finally exploded, with his usual ferocity. Anything resembling
complacency never showed up, never reared its ugly head.
Brad fucked me like his life depended on it.
No holds barred. Passion, writ large.
Holding me from behind, the drapes open, the world right there.
It's like we were daring people, challenging them to look over and see
us. Two sexual people, their passions in full flight, saying "fuck you"
to propriety and normalcy, releasing their true preternatural instincts
to love from the inside out, with all our souls, with no limits, and no
boundaries.
No shame, no embarrassment, nothing but pride and love.
He gave me his all. He fucked the living shit out of me.
It's such an intense feeling for me being pounded physically like that,
and my mind in a way shuts off. Although I'm totally aware of my
surroundings and what's going on, they become minor things in my brain.
More importantly, the majority of my grey matter goes to a place of peace
and contentment and soulful joy. I want this, this non-stop forceful
insertion of rock-hard male flesh into me. The cacophony of sensations
associated with getting fucked like that, all the jarring and shocks I
feel as he's slamming me from behind, the death-grip of his hands on my
hips, all of it gets naturally and easily processed as the pure
unadulterated joy that it is.
I was made for cock.
It's the way he likes to make love to me. From behind. Every time we've
fucked it's that way. From behind. He loves it.
And so do I.
We were so exhausted, physically and emotionally, when he made me cum and
then came himself, splattering the inside of my body with his torrent of
delicious white baby-batter. We both barely had the energy to make it to
the bed, and we both faded into sleep almost instantaneously.
I dozed for about twenty minutes. When I roused myself, Brad was beside
me, lights out, snoring up a storm. So I carefully wriggled out of his
grip and visited the washroom, letting most of his love drip out of me
into the toilet. I took the opportunity to touch up my makeup, reset my
wig, and brush my teeth again.
Brad was still lights out, so I grabbed my phone and sent a text to
Michelle, thanking her profusely for the gorgeous feminine gifts she'd
given me, that I was still wearing, including her perfume, her LUST.
Turns out she was awake at that moment, and we began a back and forth
text conversation.
She was delighted to hear her gifts had turned me on. She was even more
delighted to find out they'd turned Brad on too, and I gave her a thrust-
by-thrust description of the fucking he'd just given me. She, in turn,
told me about her evening, and the man she'd met up with.
It turns out I wasn't the only feminine slut getting fucked this evening!
Although, from the sounds of things as she described them, my fuck was
better than hers.
She text-sighed at one point, and typed, "oh well, they can't all be good
lovers!"
I laughed, and said, "I suppose not, but touch wood, I haven't had to
experience a bad one yet."
We compared cock sizes and shapes, and fucking techniques. She was being
as positive as she could about her new beau, who was snoring right beside
her at that exact second. She mentioned that she was hopeful he'd wake
up soon and make fuck number two so much better than fuck number one.
I changed the subject and told her I'd decided to invest in LUST, mostly
because I had made that choice right from the get-go, from the first
second I smelled it, but partially because of Angie's reaction earlier
this evening. It had made her weak at the knees, and her nipples had
become like small broomsticks, and she had immediately started grinding
her own thighs together, trying to stimulate her own clit, trying to make
herself cum.
I reasoned that if it affected Angie that way, that significantly, to an
already sexual person, then the average person would feel it as well. It
was a no-brainer for me.
I wanted in.
Then Michelle invited me to a party she was going to on Wednesday night.
The event was at a nightclub in town, and was for dressers and admirers.
It was a club she'd been to hundreds of times in her life, completely
safe, completely discreet, and while there was always the risk of overly-
zealous men getting too frisky when it wasn't asked for, she assured me
that for the most part it was a real hoot. She could pick me up in her
limo, and make sure I made it home safe and sound.
And she assured me that all the men, and most of the other gurls, would,
in her words, "go nuts" if I walked in the door, and that if I was so
inclined I would have zero problems meeting someone to my liking and
getting laid. Of either sex. Any sex. Multiples even, if I wanted.
I thanked her for her offer, and told her I'd let her know. I was
hesitant on two levels. One, I'd only brought a few clothes with me, and
had never anticipated going out in public like that, so it was still
something that was challenging me, and while so far I'd show little
reticence in other challenges, my mind did tell me that if I was going to
go out to a nightclub like that, I'd want some sexy going-out-on-the-town
clothes, and I just didn't bring them. I kept that to myself, because I
also instantly knew that if I mentioned it, I'd probably find myself the
recipient of a truck load of new clothes from Michelle, and I'd already
received so much from her.
Also, the second truth was, of course, that it would be my last night in
town, and I hadn't had the chance to talk to either Peter or Brad about
it.
Perhaps one of them had some ideas already formed for sharing their time
with me. Perhaps both of them did.
Who knows?
She filled me in some more on the Darlings, and some of her experiences
in group meetings. Many of her favorite times had nothing to do with
sex. She revelled in joy telling me of the networking aspects, the
business relationships that had ensued, the friendships she'd made, some
life-long. It was obvious that the social aspects of the organization
were far more important to her than the physical ones.
Make no mistake, though, she talked a lot about the sex too. She regaled
me with stories of partners, threesomes, groups, public sex, orgies,
rivers of cum and mountains of bodies, all of those delicious stories
ending with her being fucked into oblivion.
More or less.
I told her I couldn't wait to talk to Peter about it more, with the goal
of being introduced to Darling club members back home, and hopefully
attending a local event or two to get my feet wet, if they would have me.
She assured me they would.
I could hear the smile in her voice when she texted me that my feet
wouldn't get wet, but my pussy would.
A lot.
Mmmmm. It sounds like my kind of club!
Eventually we both decided, being the slutty CD gurls that we were, that
we wanted more cock. We agreed to end our texting conversation, and
begin waking up our respective men.
She said she was going to start giving her man a blow job, and seeing if
he could get it up again. She wasn't sure.
I told her I was positively sure about my man.
I knew he'd be hard already, that I would bet money he was wearing a
major boner as he slept, because I was equally confident he would be
dreaming about me, and my pussy, and how it just seemed the most natural
thing in both our worlds to be joined.
Sexually.
Joined, in the most natural and complete way that two people can be.
Emotionally, sure. Physically, of course.
But deep down, on a primal level, we were only complete when his
fantastic penis was inside me. When we both assumed our place in the
righteousness of the universe, me in lingerie and heels, him with his
cock buried inside me.
From behind.
One thing I've learned about Brad is his rebound time is always very
short. So, after saying goodbye to Michelle, I scooted over to the bed
again, and looked. Sure enough, under the covers, there it was.
His hard, turgid cock.
Waiting. For me.
It didn't take him much convincing to wake up. A few kisses on his neck
and earlobe later, and he was reacting. Wrapping me in his arms, he
began kissing my mouth, softly at first, but then tongues eventually came
out and blood pressures went sailing and lust took over, and the genuine
gentleness that started this session went straight out the window.
Brad rolled me over, onto my front, and then got behind me, on his knees.
"Fuck, you are gorgeous!" he said, running his hands up the back of my
thighs, to my pert ass-cheeks, squeezing them sensuously, then opening
them, exposing my pussy to him again. The cool air of the room touched
my delicate skin down there and felt like the world feels like after a
much-needed spring rain shower. Then, I felt a big cold drop of
something hit just above my hole, and over my shoulder I saw the intense
concentration on his face as he aimed his spit at my pussy. He missed
the mark a little, but the dollop of saliva took advantage of gravity and
began its delicious little journey downwards.
Over the smooth skin of my crack. To my pussy.
A finger soon joined it, and he began working the liquid into me.
Prepping me. Getting me wet.
He wanted to fuck me again.
Perhaps he needed to fuck me again.
Either way, I know I needed and wanted him to fuck me again. My tingles
were through the roof, in anticipation.
Like a child at Christmastime, fighting the desire to rip open everything
under the tree in an instant, instead I waited for my pleasure.
I knew what lay ahead.
Brad, fucking me.
From behind.
YUM!
When he had spit on me a few times, and worked everything into my cunt,
he applied some lube from the nearby night stand to both me and his cock,
wriggled around on his knees to get himself just where he wanted to be,
and prepared to take me.
Then, we began repeating ourselves. I was on my front, my little cock
delightfully pressing into the mattress and the sheets. My legs were
spread wide, and my arms were straight out to my sides. I looked just
like an upside-down Vitruvian man. Brad laid himself down on me, his
arms spread out on top of mine, our fingers interlacing. His torso on
top of mine, his head hanging over my left shoulder, his mouth at the
perfect level to begin whispering dirty thoughts into my ear, while his
tongue could lick and kiss at my lobe and neck. His weight came down on
me, down my back, and he just naturally placed his dad belly on the
upward curve of the top of my ass cheeks. With my lower back naturally
arched slightly, his spare tire fit perfectly.
Which left his cock, wet with lube, directly spreading my ass cheeks,
like a gigantic hot dog opening the bun. He flexed his hips a little
bit, and pulled back just a titch, and his cock head slipped downward and
rested just over top of my hole. But not quite there. Just that tiny
little bit out of place, like not having your house key at the exact
correct angle to put into the lock.
His breath was hot in my ear.
"Please," he half whispered and half grunted.
Muscle memory.
Without thinking about it, or commanding it in any way, my tingles took
over every atom of my DNA and I just flicked my hips which sent my ass
upwards the tiny little bit needed for fate to be sated.
A small physical movement with huge implications. I didn't have to think
about it. It was now ingrained in my soul.
It was like breathing. Basic. Elemental. Essential.
Raise my hips.
And BOOM! Just like that, his cock slid into me, penetrated me. It
entered into my garden of earthly delights not as a rash intruder, but as
a welcomed visitor.
Muscle memory.
I didn't just open up for him like before. This time, I literally
swallowed him, and kept swallowing him, until I felt him rooted all the
way inside my body. Swallowed him. It was like taking a big mouthful of
liquid, and then just opening up and letting everything down your throat
in an instant. A split second. A heartbeat.
That's how I took him. And this time, it really was me taking him.
Maybe he thought he was the one doing the fucking, the man, slaking his
lust in me, but in my view, I was the one using him.
My little cock was crushed between me and the bed, but I could already
feel it leaking out that steady slow trickle of juice I was getting used
to now. This was happening almost every time I got fucked now, and I
recognized it for what it was, my natural reaction to being the woman,
being the recipient of cock, the most heavenly and intimate sheath for
the masculine sword. I was the chalice.
I was built for cock.
My pussy, my soul, was the holiest of grails.
For a brief moment I felt sorry for the hotel staff, whoever had to clean
my room later today. They're going to find some very wet linens! Then I
realized it wasn't anything they weren't already very used to, in their
line of work.
We were taking big deep breaths, both huffing and puffing, his weight
completely on me, our bodies matching in angles and shape.
His fantastic cock back home, where it should be.
As deep as he could go, inside me.
And then, just like Friday night, and the Saturday night before that, my
Greek lover began to service me, in his incredible way. With his entire
weight on me, my head was more or less trapped, with the right side down
and my head looking left. As it happened, I could see the alarm clock.
It softly glowed 12:24.
He began to withdraw from me, slowly, languidly. He wanted to enjoy
every sweet second of it just as much as I did. We both moaned out a
"mmnngnmmgn" kind of noise, breathy and urgent.
Just before his cock might fall out of me, his motion changed, and he
slowly slid back into me, crushing the backs of my thighs with the fronts
of his, and slamming me with his hips hard enough to send streamers of
sensations through my trapped cock, making me ooze even more thick creamy
liquid. Inside, I felt tremors, ripples of my flesh, just above the base
of my cock, zipping and zapping around the inside of my abdomen. They
began vibrating in sync, harmonizing, and buzzing.
I felt like I had to pee.
But it wasn't a new feeling for me, and I'd read about it online as well.
I knew what it was. I'd felt it before, particularly with Vladimir. My
prostate was getting rubbed in a particularly wonderful way. The angle
of Brads cock was perfect.
Perfect.
Muscle memory.
On his next pull out, we both made the same "mmnngggnmgm" noise again,
both of us exhaling our moans. Then followed his slow re-entry, and the
vibrations down below became amplified, like an electric motor being
turned up from two to six or seven.
Now I really felt like I was going to pee. That it was imminent. I was
worried about staining the bed, being charged back by the hotel for the
cleaning or replacement costs.
Then he pulled out again, slowly, with purpose and we both made that same
noise again, just much louder, and then just as slowly he pushed back in
again, took me again, his breath hot in my ear, his tongue licking here
and there.
One more push in, and the feeling of having to pee was completely gone.
Because I was peeing. Just absolutely no control at all streaming oceans
of it came out of me, flowing between the material of my new sexy
lingerie and the high thread-count cotton sheets. Damn! I thought, I'm
going to have to get my new lingerie cleaned right away.
Except I wasn't peeing.
I was cumming.
Cumming in a way I've never done before. It was like my whole body was
cumming, not just my little cock and balls. As if every organ, every
muscle, every bone and every mucous membrane just all exploded in ecstasy
at once. At the exact same time.
For a weed smoker like me, it was the best body stone I've ever felt.
The sound coming out of me was new too. It was more of a groan than a
moan, and constant, whether I was breathing in or out. It was like I was
a house cat, purring in both directions.
And it went on for a long time.
And Brad just kept spearing me, in that languorous way. Slowly in, hold
for a few seconds, then slowly almost all the way out.
Then right back in again, but in control of himself, not rushing. And
like that first fuck, that first night, on his bed, when I was wearing
his wife's panties and stockings, he was vocal, in short little staccato
bursts as he was gasping heavily. He said 'beautiful pussy' a lot of
times, 'fuck' many times, 'oh god' often, 'Jessica' a half dozen times.
He grunted "you were made for cock" twice.
Both times it struck me, hard. Like a punch in the gut.
But not a painful punch. Not at all. The diametric opposite. The most
delicious punch ever.
I was made for cock.
He was right. Muscle memory or not, the fact of the matter was that
every single time a cock has come close to my ass, I've easily and
eagerly taken it. My body has done everything it needed to do, without
thought or planning, to not just accommodate it, but readily inhale in
cock after cock.
I was made for cock.
Brad's fucking began to build in intensity, and both of our moaning and
breathing increased in turn. 'Mmnngngnnnnmmm' from both of us, the duet
of love.
The literal buzzing inside me amped up again, the dial moving from the
previous six or seven closer to nine, nearing ten, close to the maximum
output. Our breathing was now ragged, each of us drawing in and pushing
out volumes of air when we could, the rest of the time holding it in and
using it to help our hearts survive the next few moments.
Such was the ferocity of our love-making.
His thrusts became frantic now, pushing and pulling his glorious hard
throbbing dick in and out of me, in and out of my pussy, which was
expanding and contracting in time to his movements, like a finely-tuned
machine, without working hard at it at all.
My insides adapted second by second to his thrusts.
I was made for cock.
My whole body was crushed underneath his, our mutual fucking making the
whole mattress bounce. At one point the number 12:38 flashed at me, and
I realized we'd been going for close to twenty minutes, building the
momentum, the vibe, combining our lusts to create yet a new dynamic, one
of complete and total synchronous wave patterns.
We were fucking each other, making love to each other. Joined, in the
most holy and sacred of ways. Creating new levels of positive loving
energy, adding to those most god-like feelings that flow through the
universe.
And we were giving each other the best workout humans can ever have.
At this rate, with all the great exercise my heart and lungs and soul
were getting since becoming Jessica, I think it might be possible to live
to be a thousand years old.
All I have to do, I reasoned, is keep on fucking.
Brad got faster, and slammed into me harder. His teeth captured my left
earlobe, and between his massive bursts of breath from his rapidly moving
lungs, he babbled syllables and words in a nonsensical fashion, and I
matched him grunt for grunt.
Finally, at 12:44 on the clock, he began pile-driving me. I couldn't see
it, but I was sure anyone in the room would see his hairy ass moving
faster and faster, becoming a blur, trying to achieve warp speed, trying
to slide in and out of my cunt more fully, to the length and breadth of
his soul, trying to bury himself inside my pussy more and more each
thrust, fucking me faster and faster because the harder he stroked the
further he could place his cum.
I knew it was going to happen soon for Brad, which was a natural clarity
that astounded me, despite more or less being incoherent, oblivious to
most everything because of the all-consuming fierceness of being fucked,
He was about to cum.
I knew him and his fucking well enough to know that. To sense it. To
feel it deep within me. And the abject pride that swelled in me every
time a man started getting ready to peak, being the one that is building
that fire within him, being the special woman driving his lust to new
heights, being the slut that wants his cum inside me in the strongest way
possible, was all emotionally overwhelming.
I was made for cock.
The blur of the next few moments overtook me. My eyes closed, all my
non-necessary systems were on hold, and everything that didn't need to be
working wasn't. My entire being, my id, was processing so many sensory
perceptions and feelings that all I could do was float away on my
tingles, sail to the heavens on this crazy magic carpet ride of gay anal
sex.
All I could do was shine like the sun, fuelled by sheer pleasure.
All I could do was ride the rails.
As Brad rode me.
My Greek lover lasted for just a few more strokes, and then his breath
started in and out and in and out and in and out in a hurry, faster and
faster, and it was matched by the speed of his thrusts, his cock just
plowing me, pistoning in and out of my wet sucking pussy, the lube
squelching and squishing and creating a soundtrack worthy of the best
song Oscar.
Both of us started non-stop moaning. Unintelligible. Gibberish.
I was moving too, perfectly rocking my ass up and back to him, matching
his speed and intensity. I wanted it as much as he did. I needed it as
much as he did.
Maybe more.
We were almost there, building to the ultimate orgasm. SLAM SLAM SLAM
SLAM SLAM SLAM SLAM SLAM SLAM.
I felt him lurch, his whole body spasming forward and into me and
stopping, and it was so strong and so powerful that it rocked me, and my
eyes shot open, and the clock shouted out 12:47 in muted red tones.
He growled in my ear, a sharp sudden feral sound that vibrated through my
bones, and as I felt the liquidy sensations trickle deep inside my body,
his nectar filling the cracks and crevices of my lower intestines, my own
cock let loose with one final spurt of cum, one body-wracking heave of
gurly semen, one mind-blurring tremor of orgasmic euphoria.
I more or less blacked out, for a few moments.
Finally, I felt Brad's cock slip out of me, and he rolled onto his back,
the biggest "phew" I've ever heard, his exhale lasting for several
seconds.
I had tuckered him out!
He reached over and helped me roll over to him, my head landing on his
shoulder, his big right arm wrapping around me, holding me close to him,
cuddling with me. He reached down and pulled the covers onto both of us.
"You were made for cock."
Before I drifted off again, those words circled through my head, in the
most erotic of tape loops.
It was true, I realized.
Everything that had happened to me since that fateful night just eleven
days ago at Brad's party underscored the gravity of his words. There was
no other explanation. It was just a certainty. A fact. A statement of
the obvious.
I lived for it. I revelled in it. I luxuriated in it. All of my
senses, my feelings, my thoughts, my intuitions, all revolved around this
femininity I'd discovered, that I'd allowed to blossom from within me,
that had existed in me my whole life without me ever knowing.
I was made for cock.
I LOVE MY TINGLES!
The end.
Mei
- 08.05.2020
- 10
- 0
