I draw my hand away, my finger slipping from her sex slowly and reluctantly. I hear her let out a little whine of complaint, and I see her hips dance in the futile effort to attract me again. She may not be aware of it, but she was designed by the hand of the universe to seduce males. Her code is written in such a way as to completely undo all sense of rationality or propriety.
I turn her onto her back and look down at her. Everything about her is suddenly so irresistibly beautiful. Her very presence warps my mind and directly accesses my desires. I need to be inside her. It’s not a want anymore. Want doesn’t come into it. I have a deep, immediate, physical need to join with her.
I swore I would never have sex with a human, but I can’t help myself. I don’t want to help myself. I want to have her, claim her, own her. I want to make her mine.
So I plunge inside her. I push my scaled cock into the tight little biological crevice, and I feel her open for me. She is so hot, and she is so wet, and she holds me as if I was made for her. I feel as though I just slid home, returning to a place I never knew I belonged.
Endless fields of beauty unfold before me, plains of physical pleasure untold. I feel my body linked with hers, our very souls entwining in the mix of energy fields.
Her body clenches and tightens, and relaxes and then clenches again. She is a rippling pleasure toy, my pleasure toy, and every part of her is engaged in this tryst. She clings to me, her fingers pressed into the muscular scales of my arm. She’s holding onto me so impossibly tight, arching her hips up and giving herself to me.
She’s usually so mouthy, but her words have disappeared to be replaced with grunts and moans, low throaty sounds and high pitched wails. She writhes and she squirms and she grinds herself against me, her puffy wet lower lips gripping me every time I draw out, and then welcoming me back inside her hot, tight interior.
I have resisted this moment for so long, and that serves to make this conquest all the sweeter, though I fear it is also an act of submission. Cosmic biology has prevailed, and I have become a grunting, humping, rutting beast. I am no more advanced in this moment than a basic animal. I can smell her. I can taste her. I am nothing but flesh merging with other flesh, and she is at the nexus of every desire I have ever had. She has become the representation of all desire, all femininity, all need. She is my personal goddess, and I worship at her cunt.
Her body is open to me. It draws me in and it holds me close and it gives me all the affection I have secretly craved my entire mature life. This woman named Lucky, this creature with the prettiest eyes and the prettiest smile and the most delicate yet curvaceous body, whose breasts bounce with every thrust, enticing mammaries which beg to be suckled at. In her arms, I find myself at the mercy of every base biological urge I have ever experienced. And now I am on the precipice of wicked orgasm.
I have to keep the part of me that makes my kind anew back from her. That which floods her tight crevices and her hot walls is pleasure fluid, but it does not put her at risk of conception. We are bound by mutual gratification, a bond which is tighter and more profound than most realize.
I come. But she does not. I pull free before she can clench and squirm and perform that chemical dance which heralds her own peak.
“What the fuck!” She stares at me with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. She reaches down between her thighs, and I swat her hand away before she can touch her swollen, wet pussy.
“You're not coming. You’re not going to touch yourself. You’re going to simmer in your need until your body gives up the possibility of climax.”
“God that is so much worse than whipping me. I think you might actually be a psychopath.”
Perhaps I have found a way to punish her after all. The denial of orgasm is far more effective than anything else.
I am fucking burning with need. I am still on the verge of orgasm, his rough fucking having taken me by surprise and pushed me right to the edge of the precipice of what feels like eternal pleasure he just kept pulling me back from as if he knew me and my body better than I know me.
I’ve never felt like this before. So thoroughly fucked I could pass the hell out and yet still stuck, clinging to that unseen edge that I want to go over so badly I would give anything, do anything, become anyone just to find relief.