“I want you to hurt me,” she said, as if trying to reassure herself, as well as me. “Mostly because I just really want to fuck you, but also because I know you will keep me safe.” Safe was a confusing word. Carla wanted me because she didn’t feel safe around me. Bridget wanted me because she did.
“But no pressure or anything,” I chuckled, trying to find refuge in humor.
“Alistaire,” Bridget growled. I felt her hands grab my ass and knead it. She was getting ready to pull me into her for real! That wasn’t happening. I would do this myself.
I felt her tremble beneath me, and I did likewise in response.
And I pushed.
It was surprising how easily it tore under my advance, almost literally popping. Bridget hissed a little, and grimaced. I paused again, but her hands kept up their pressure on my ass, and I resumed. She was indeed amazingly tight, and I had to take my time burying myself into her. Even had I wanted to just plunge the rest of the way in, it would have been impossible. I watched intently as the grimace faded from her face as I worked deeper and deeper. She might have seemed to have some discomfort left, how much I could not tell, but I felt like I was in heaven.
We both sighed as I settled fully inside her, my tip tickling her depths and making her jump slightly. I simply lay there for a bit, savoring the incredible feeling of just being fucking buried inside Bridget, her warm, fit body largely supporting my weight, her fabulous tits against my chest.
“Did that hurt?” I asked, still worried.
“Oh hell yes,” she sighed happily. “Still does,” she added, as if fascinated. “But I feel so overwhelmingly good otherwise, so wildly… full. I’m just… glad you fit.”
“Really? You’re okay?”
“You bring new meaning to the phrase ‘hurts so good’,” Bridget almost crooned, suddenly beginning to squeeze herself around my cock inside her.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Shut up,” she ground out through happily gritted teeth. She dug her fingernails into my ass. She didn’t trim them very long, but they were long enough to hurt, as hard as she squeezed.
“Ouch,” I yelped, unable to keep quiet.
“There,” Bridget said. “We are even, all right?” She started squirming happily underneath me, softening her grip on my protesting glutes. “Are we finished talking about my already fading discomfort? I want to get sweaty and loud.”
How was I to argue with that request?
I drew back and then thrust back in. And again. My eyes were riveted to Bridget’s face, enthralled by the look on it each time I drew back and plunged into her again.
“Oh wow,” she breathed.
I drew back, and this time I slammed into her fast. Her heavily lidded eyes shot wide as I repeated the hard thrust. I tried to repeat the same slow withdrawal and eager impalement, but sometime the body wants its own agenda, and soon I was racking myself in and out of her as hard and fast as I could manage. Her body rocked beneath me, her tits wobbling around so amazingly that they actually could compete for my eyes’ attention with her lovely, expressive face telling me how much she was enjoying this.
Looking down on her beneath me was almost better than the feeling of being inside her.
That’s bullshit, and you know it as much as I do, but you get the picture.
Even with her frankly awesome blowjob earlier, I was starting to get close again. But I could tell that she was not yet there. It always seemed to take a while for girls in Missionary. She was clearly enjoying herself immensely, but not yet pushing toward the edge.
I slowed to hold on longer myself, and stopped, then I just barely withdrew from her.
“Huh?” Bridget asked, displaying again that little mental disorganization that tells me I’m doing a good job.
“Shhhh,” I said, then kissed her again gently. I ran my cock along the outside of her slit now, listening for her reaction when it stroked across her clitoris, which stood just proud enough in her folds for me to caress it like this.
I felt her clench. There we go… That’s what she needed.
A few more strokes, and she was whimpering at last. I drew back and then slid down into her again. I slowly slid my hand between us to gently keep up the stimulation while I started to thrust into her again. I caressed her clit softly, but grew faster and harder at the same time with my main efforts. As she began to grow louder in her moans and cries, I felt her build. I let my hand slip from her folds and I clenched her breast almost desperately. She had such perfect tits… But my hold was indeed desperate, and I was just slamming into her with an urgency I could not restrain anymore. Bridget felt my imminence, I thought, because she crooned almost desperately, hanging on by a thread herself. Her hips bucked up against me… and I gushed into her. It felt like I was gushing everything in my body, from calf muscle tissue up to the saliva in my mouth, all liquified and charging down and out my dick and into Bridget. The tidal flow and almost violent pulsation of my cock inside her seemed to give her body what it needed to finally let go, and she shrieked again and again underneath me. I kept up my thrusts, even though my body was screaming in ecstatic overload and was demanding that I stop already. But I wanted to make sure I had drained this woman of every last drop of her own passion.
I finally felt her collapse and relax beneath me, and in desperate relief, I too sagged. I gasped happily as I stopped pounding, cock throbbing in exhaustion inside her.
We both lay there, trying to figure out how we weren’t dead.
“Well,” she said at last, after heaving a mighty sigh. “That was nice.”
“Yeah?” I replied weakly. “I thought it was nice too.”
Neither of us had the energy to laugh, only smile at each other.
“Want to do it again?” I asked with a weak grin.
“Oh, holy shit, yes!” But then she said, “But no, not now.”
“Of course not right now. You have to give me a few minutes, and I’m sure I can…”
“Alistaire,” Bridget said, putting a finger on my lip. “We are going to do this over and over again, while we have time left together.” She giggled. “And I claim priority over those two bitches until I catch up. But right now, my heart just about stopped. And we just both ran a 10K an hour ago. And we both have drunk our water bottles dry. We both need to go to the dining hall and get food, and water, and milk, and omelets… you know, ‘lest we die’.”
I managed the energy to actually laugh. “God, an omelet sounds good.”
*
We went straight to the dining hall, not really considering our odor… Fortunately, in the press of brunch, the food service area is powerfully aromatic already, enough that we got no weird looks, except maybe one from old Mrs. Lauresova, who was rationing out the bacon. But we both headed away from everyone else and found a far table to ourselves to eat.
We sat there, attacking the food and slamming back water like we had just been rescued from fourteen days on a life raft at sea. Suddenly, we both looked up and saw Carla and Beth standing there with trays, both looking very tentatively and uncomfortably at Bridget.
She just smiled at them and waved at the seats. “Hey guys! What’s up this morning?”
They traded glances at each other as they sat, as if looking for a trap. My presence reassured them, I saw. It was probably the only reason they had had the courage to approach Bridget at all.