She thought it couldn’t get any better after their first night of seductive toying, which had led to piece-by-piece stripping away of fear and clothing, reams of slow motion exploratory tasting, taunting and probing, then sacrilegious hours of rocking penetration, precipice dangling with last-second denials, igniting repeatedly into howling, savage eruptions of shameless bliss.
But this…. ‘holy fuck’, she thought… when this happened the next morning, she thought she might never unlock her ankles and let him go. This was naked nirvana, in the heat of his fierce embrace, and the seeping warmth of the enveloping temperate fog. She might never want him to let her down, especially when they began that slow rocking fuck, accompanied by the parry and thrust, braided kissing, as they feasted upon one another with the fervor of hungry wolves savoring every ounce of a fresh, bloody carcass.
Then again, when he moved forward and pinned her to the tiles, then slid his arms under her honey-washed thighs, and rammed her repeatedly and rhythmically into the wall’s framework, she thought: ‘He can fucking do anything he wants to me now. Fucking anything.’ And so he did, as she willingly surrendered to it all.
In the mix of a seeming endless shower of steam-powered depravity, she found herself in every position imaginable; kneeling with his fists in her hair and his rigid pole plundering her throat’s yielding depths; face on the floor by the drain, her ass in the air, filled with his roaring, rammed lust.
When the overflow of his morning coffee demanded he empty his bladder, so that he could continue his ferocious onslaught, she desperately told him to just pee right there and let her watch. She couldn’t believe her own words at first, but she couldn’t bear to let him leave the arena, even for that practicality. And had this not been their very first morning, and very first shower, she felt like she might have even leaned her body or face into his golden stream to feel that filthy intimacy on her skin, which absolutely shocked her own sensibilities. Never before had she imagined that kind of raw kink. It made her wonder where the hell that instinct even came from, and, how did the fuck she not know she was hiding that from herself??
Her next cached query was: What kind of erotic deviant magic did this man possess, to open her startled mind like this, in an obscene nano-second, to all things taboo, that even she didn’t know she dreamed about.
But the moment that truly sent her flying into the next galaxy, never to return, she thought, was when he lifted her up again, pressed her face lovingly to the glass, and took her forcefully from behind. For some unknown reason, as he breached and rode her toward their soaring orgasmic ends, she began to envision former lovers sitting, or better kneeling just outside the glass, made to watch her being power- pleasured, their hands tied, unable to touch themselves. They were there for punishment for past sins, and lessons in how to worship and defile a lover in one pummeling breath.
And in her vision, as he grunted and gripped her hips, as he plunged and ravaged her humming cunt’s canal, there, peppered amidst her bound past trespassers, were one or two women she had always quietly longed to tangle with; their lips trying to reach her through the shaking, sopping transparency, as they abused themselves in dire desire to both have her, and be her in this very feral moment.
The way this man finesse-touched her and ravenously savaged her, the way he unabashedly lusted for her imperfect beauty and her nearly forgotten libido, had somehow caused a flood of stored secrets to materialize from seeming nowhere, like an unexpected monsoon filling her depths to overflow, and floating forgotten keepsakes up from the locked dungeons of her sexuality. Part of her was horrified at some of the shameless, pent-up filth pouring out of her. The other part of her wanted to know already, just how far this man would go with her, and what kind of wild carnal topography they might dare traverse together.
And as her feline fantasies licked at her through the glass, and the former unworthy men became so aroused, they were forced to orally pleasure each other for sheer release, she felt the magic man behind her slip a finger or three into the grip of her pleading anal circle. Her fuse was lit, within and without, her claws scratched at the shower’s panes, then they flat-handed spanked them as the orgasmic waves rolled over her again and again and, shockingly a-fucking-gain.
She had never let her mind spin off like this during new sex, certainly not to places like these, and consequently, she had never cum this hard and long in her naked lifetime. Her bones were jellied, and her insides were spilling out with her whorish shame. And in the aftermath, she wondered if he had somehow divined every one of the abominable fantasies, that his lush assault inspired in her brazen subconsciousness.
She wondered if she could tell him a few of them, but shoved that thought away quickly. ‘Too soon’, she imagined.
But in the half-wrap of their toweled, post-dance tangle, he hijacked her sanity once again. “You loved it against the glass, didn’t you? What were you imagining there?” She went scarlet, from scalp to toes. She turned her head away and tried to fight the fearful tears. She couldn’t lose him already, but she couldn’t bear to be who she wasn’t any longer… for anyone, especially herself.
She started shakily sharing the visuals of one of the women on the other side of the glass. She could feel his reaction rise against her white thighs, even if she hadn’t heard him purr softly in her nervous ear.
She dared to open up her Pandora’s box and gently bare much of the rest, tentatively at first, stopping short of any mention of pee play, which she herself was still shocked at. He let her get away with that one…for now. He already knew from the way she had asked, and watched him. She would admit it, embarrassed but emboldened, later: she “wasn’t really sure about it, but in the heat of the moment she almost…”. God, he knew too much already, she feared.
He stopped her. He kissed her. Then he spoke words she thought she’d never hear in anything but a smutty romance novel. “I love your filthy mind. I love that you went there with me, to all of those places, even just in your thoughts.” Then he offered to share a few of his own wild, dirty dreams with her, all of which included her in one obscene way or another… and a couple of them simply took her libido’s breath away.
Without meaning to, they were pawing each other again, and as he folded her in half, and slow-motion fucked her on the already sullied sheets, face to lip-bitten face, they played a little more of ‘share a dirty fantasy in tandem’, to toss the the rest of their hidden decks of adventurously wanton cards on the table.
As he rocked deeper into her, he whispered, “I want to try anything and everything with you, even if it’s just once, to see if we like it, love it, hate it, or think it’s fucking idiotic.” He leaned in closer with a low growl, and said plainly, “I will do anything with you.” Then he shoved his tongue down her throat as his re-risen cock drove ever deeper into her singing nethers.
Alice had fallen into a sexual Wonderland she thought only ever existed in pornographic fairy tales. She was never fucking leaving. Never. Even if it meant finding the most shameful, darkest hungers that lurked inside of her dirty core - the ones she never dared look at, much less own. They were about to be set free, and handed willingly to this lustful magician… along with her insatiable body and her re-imagined heart.