The Quickie (very rough)

“It’s windy as fuck out there,” says she, shedding her coat in a pile on the floor.

“Oh yeah?” says he, taking her hand and leading her to the bedroom.

Shutting the door, he sidles up behind and wraps his arms around her, groping her hefty breasts which feel like they were moulded for his hands alone. She leans into him and grinds her ass into his crotch, her arms snaked around his head. He kisses her neck, pausing to bite and nibble a little the way he knows she likes. She grins and moans happily feeling herself let go of everything she came in with and succumbing to the moments.

He expertly unclasps her bra through her shirt and pulls the top off along with the bra. he now gropes her tits, loving the feel of the skin, the hardness of the nipples. She unbuckles her belt and slips out of her trousers and panties and his hands immediately run to her ass: tight, round and utterly perfect. She climbs into the bed slowly, swaying her hips and peaking over her shoulder to see him watching her greedily. Turning to face him, she drops down on to all fours and stares up at him with doe eyes that could be mistaken for innocent if he didn’t know any better.

He strips down and stands at the edge of the bed with his erect cock in line with her face. She smiles at it and moves her head to take it in her mouth. With impressive skill she sucks, teases and orally enjoys the dick. Using every muscle of her mouth alone she drives him to the edge, his knees weakening and his heart beating faster and faster. Reaching for a condom, he pulls himself out and covers his tool, eager to fuck her.

She lays on her back and, closing her eyes, reaches down to her cunt. She always enjoys feeling how wet she gets, momentarily marvelling at the ways of the human body. She rubs her clit which thrills at her touch and throbs with arousal when she feels the weight on the bed shift as he climbs on. She opens her eyes to stare at him: his simple, unremarkable face which wouldn’t garner a second glance from her were he a stranger on the street, his blonde hair and the remains of a smirk that are etched around his mouth. She smiles at him and he returns the gesture as he pulled her legs apart and slides in.

An indescribable sense of euphoria washes over her. The whole world ceases to exist: any pain, hurt, worry or anger she had had seems a distant fiction. Only his cock and her cunt remain and only the ecstasy of having that hard dick thrust in and out of her matters. She gives herself over to the pleasure, feeling the cock in every corner of her vagina. Moans, groans and even giggles escape, perfectly summarizing the gamut of her emotions. If only they could bottle this feeling and sell it over the counter. If only this perfect sensation of perfect liberty could be achieved at will instead of sought out. It was the best anti-depressant, sex.

His body is one with hers, literally and figuratively, but their minds worlds apart. While deep conversation bring together minds, sex separates them in the most wonderful way. Sometimes the only way to appreciate someone physically is by fucking them and these two are appreciating not only each other but themselves as well. He glories at the feel of his cock in her cunt, loving the feeling that it was made just for him. The beating of his heart and the controlled pleasure he derives from her slick, soft yet tight pussy. Her breasts bouncing, her mind freed and glee running across her face. I am responsible for her contentment, he thinks and his pride swells making him thrust a little harder. Her thighs up around his shoulders are smooth and so soft, and on impulse he gifts them with a trail of gentle kisses. She writhes under him, moaning and unable to stop smiling.

Time ceases for them and they are engrossed only in the effects of the cock in the cunt. Like all good things, the act must end eventually and when he comes it is like an indescribable shower of satisfaction drowning him, making him call out to the god he never believed in.  His body shudders with the release and he collapses on top of her, panting. Spasms of aftershock run through him over and over again and she hugs him to her, laughing a little.

The moments right after they fuck are the most wonderful because they are so fleeting. The mind is on the cusp of calm and consideration: trying hard to recapture the declining high or at least wallow in the afterglow before succumbing to the real world. They lay tangled in each other’s limbs and catch their breaths and their thoughts before he gets off her and leaves the room. She lays for a few seconds more before hauling herself up and finding her clothes, her mind back to reality, but suddenly much clearer and more prepared to deal with real life. She gets dressed and is ready to head back out.

“Thanks for the lay,” says she, winking.