Sweetness & Blight

Chapter One-3

Despite my discomfort, and the lack of any genital contact of my own, my already-emptied c**k stays painfully hard throughout. Amelia’s erotic abandon is exhilarating to witness, especially in such proximity and despite my degrading situation. In a way I can’t explain my humiliation and suffering even seem to add to that vicarious thrill. Whether I’m being rudely face-f****d or rabidly sucking at her engorged little organ I spend perhaps forty minutes or more subjugated under her and loving it. Gazing up past her smooth-shaved mound, amazingly slender belly and between her wildly jiggling boobs at her head cast back in abandon while she yanks on my hair and cries out with uncontainable passion fills me with as much pride and excitement as it does unwilling humility. This incomparable woman is mine, and I’m giving her pleasure in the manner only I can! But of course, the truly degrading and perversely compelling part of this ordeal comes at the end.

At the height of her ecstatic thrashing Amelia once again goes from f*****g my protruding tongue to crushing her wet pudendum tightly to my open, abraded mouth. Quivering in every exquisite line she yanks my hair harder than ever and cries breathlessly down at me.

“Now, Charles, now: suck me off!”

Immediately I respond with my most dedicated effort yet, sucking not just her c******s but her entire genitalia. Screaming with release Amelia wrenches against me. Her wonderfully supple body goes as hard as carved marble and then I’m suddenly flooded with hot ejaculate. Still I suck furiously at her even as I’m forced to swallow or drown, my own unattended s*x organ straining with rigidity. Amelia keeps coming and coming, crushing her crotch so tightly against me that my nostrils are blocked and spots of anoxia begin to dance before my eyes. But at last the throe is over. Amelia slumps atop me. Her hands go from yanking at my hair to gently petting it, as though I were a cosseted pooch being shown her favor. At last Amelia sighs, and rises from my face, whereupon I gasp greedily at the unobstructed air. Showing no sympathy for what she just put me through my unbearably sexy wife instead grins challengingly down at me, tossing her hair back over her shoulders and tucking it behind her ears. We both know what’s coming. We’ve each had an orgasm. Where most married couples would call it a night, we are now about to embark upon the truly trying and rewarding s****l excess.

“What do you think, Charles? Can you possibly stay hard long enough to satisfy me this time? Or am I going to have to break out Mister Mechanical again?”

“I’m going to try my damnedest, darling. But let’s not forget that you’re just eighteen while I’m almost thirty-one. And the way you f**k, there are world-class gigolo studs who’d find it impossible to satisfy you.”

“Too true!” Amelia laughs.

“You poor men are so woefully limited! But I love you anyway, my darling, and not just because you let me have my way all the time. Any man I married would have to do that. And I expect any other man would be as easy to lead by the p***s as you too, or I wouldn’t want him. Come on now, put your condom on. I’m going to ride you like a rented mule!”

Hurriedly I take one of these from the bedside table.

Surely I’m not capable of producing more than a tiny spurt of semen after that earlier climax. But even one drop soiling her sainted insides is a drop too many for my Amelia. Dismally aware that I’m reducing my own pleasure to satisfy what I consider an unreasonable demand, I nevertheless don that condom without hesitation.

Sex with a rubber is better than no s*x at all. And of course, reducing my own pleasure should prolong hers – which I suspect is the real reason Amelia insists on me wearing one of these every time. Anyway within thirty seconds I’m back on those pillows with my head and hips elevated – the latter the better to improve your penetration, my dear. Amelia has sorrowfully informed me more than once (or even a dozen times) that she finds my merely average six inches unfortunately lacking. She does it again as she swings astride me, further diminishing an ego already suffering from my habitual relegation to the passive, submissive position.

“Poor Charles! At least that world-class gigolo stud you mentioned would have a p***s worthy of me, wouldn’t he? Ah well: if this is as big as you can get I’d better make the most of it. Try not to come until I’ve had at least three more orgasms, okay, darling? We don’t want me disappointed in you again, now do we?”

With that oh-so polite warning and gentle if still eviscerating belittlement Amelia straddles my hips, her slender young huge nippled body breathtaking in its perfection. She clasps my rubber-sheathed c**k, points it into her still sopping p***y and eases down atop it. We moan simultaneously. Mine is eloquent of a paradoxical woeful bliss at this long-delayed yet sadly lessened consummation. This moment is what I live for, what I’ve given up so much to finally experience and yet it could be so much better! Amelia on the other hand gives voice to an exquisite pleasure tinged with a determined intent to enjoy this act to the very limit of our disparate capabilities. Before she begins though, she squirms all around a bit. Reveling in our joining she delivers one more sweetly pleading yet inherently degrading appeal.

“Please, honey: don’t let me down this time! Keep that little pee-pee good and naughty for me until I’ve had enough of it!”

With that Amelia leans back and slips her hands under my knees. She pulls my legs as widely spread as she can. Then with her back arched and her wildly exciting little t**s thrust forward she begins slowly pumping back and forth, her firm grip on the undersides of my thighs anchoring her movements.

Still grinning challengingly down at me Amelia is the most arousing vision imaginable. Perched atop my lifted hips, connected to me so intimately, all flawless alabaster skin, skinny torso and limbs, huge red n*****s, bright blue eyes and shiny raven hair she makes me feel blessed even to be on the same planet as her. The fact that she’s actually f*****g me is downright staggering. And as she gradually builds up toward her usual insanely inspired and madly demanding rhythm I groan with both sensory overload and daunted expectation.

Once again Amelia is expert at knowing exactly what works best for her. By pumping thus with her hips she rocks my tightly socketed c**k backwards and forwards. Never leaving the clutch of her silken insides it alternately bends against its inclination and thrusts deeper into her even as it presses on her g-spot. Moaning at the end of each measured stroke she smolders down at me intimidatingly. Slowly she picks up speed, the heat in her gaze growing with her rhythm. For what must be ten minutes or more she f***s me deliberately this way, until the feral aggression climbing in her can be contained no longer. Then she releases my legs and leans forward. Supporting herself with her arms while her hair falls around us again in a shimmering sable drape she begins riding me with a purpose, panting and grunting like an animal as she heaves her body violently back and forth. Glaring down demandingly she f***s me; ah God she f***s me so wildly and endlessly that I’m amazed as always by her youthful energy and limitless stamina. At five foot-five she’s not quite petite yet she commands all the lithe mobility reputed to be the exclusive province of tiny-bodied women. Dragged down by gravity her breasts have turned cone-shaped, the huge rounded n*****s on the ends turning to dancing blurs as her pace relentlessly escalates.

Helpless to do otherwise I grope for those fantastic t**s, closing my hands on them and marveling as always at their firmness, the satiny texture of the skin and the coarser stiffness of the big duct nobbed bulbs nestled in my palms. I moan with unbelievable joy, straining my hips upward even as my legs begin to creep together on their own. Ever vigilant even in her mad transport Amelia senses my climbing excitement and moves to blunt this. She sits back up a second, and without slowing her pumping wrenches my legs back widely apart. Then she captures my hands in her own. Lacing our fingers together she drops back toward me, trapping my arms against the mattress at right angles to my body with our linked hands spread to either side of my head. Helpless now I lie there straddled and restrained, my torso sunk into the bed between my elevated hips and head while Amelia growls and grunts and frantically pumps, wildly riding me at the behest of her insatiable appetites.

The ravening intensity of her gaze, rampant physicality of her attack and even my pathetic helplessness beneath it are so insanely exciting I’m damn lucky she jerked me off earlier. Of their own accord my legs have already begun to come back together and are once again straining to lift my groin higher, the ceaseless back-and-forth rocking of my c**k so incredibly stimulating that I’d surely be ejaculating my brains out already otherwise. As it is I can only gasp and groan and writhe pinned in place like a defeated wrestler as Amelia who finally bucks galvanically atop me and screams with ecstasy as she violently climaxes. This is but the second orgasm of the night for her and she is nowhere nearly sated. Though she’s beaded with sweat and panting hugely she’s still barely begun f*****g me.

Releasing my hands at last Amelia sits back up. Again she jerks my legs open. Then she begins bouncing straight up and down, finally indulging in the traditional rhythmic in-and-out.

Her breasts bounce beautifully at this too and again I feel compelled to reach for them. Amelia intercepts my hands however. Again linking our fingers together she denies me another cherished delight, smiling smugly at me as she pogos on my raging erection. At last this proves inadequate however. She resumes her lateral pumping and eventually falls forward again, again trapping my arms spread wide and pinning me to the bed. As aggressively dominant and demanding as ever, maybe even more so, she repeats her possessed drive toward another screaming climax. Finding at the finish that my legs are again clamped tightly together she pants down at me reprovingly.

“You know you’re not supposed to come yet, Charles. Why do you keep trying to?”

“I’m not trying to!” I gasp back, exhausted just from passively enduring this endless feminine assault. “At least not consciously. I just get naturally swept along in your momentum.”

“No discipline and no restraint: these are your greatest failings, my love – aside from that puny little p***s that is. I clearly need to instill these things in you – or impose them outright. For now though let’s just try things a different way. I’ll be able to keep your legs spread for you, while you can use your grabby hands to help me. I’m getting tired of trying to keep them off my body. Let’s see you put them to work for me instead.”

For the first time in maybe half an hour or more Amelia rises up enough to let me slip all the way out of her. Then she turns around. Facing away from me she straddles me again and slides me back inside her. Now I’m looking at her spectacular fall of hair, the slender sexy small of her back and fantastic ass. Getting the idea right away I reach eagerly for this, filling my hands with the firm springy rounds of her buttocks. Unfortunately Amelia immediately grabs my hands and transfers my grip to the sides of her hips. She spreads my legs, leans forward and rests her weight on my knees, trapping them to the bed like she did my hands and holding me in position. Then she begins pumping her hips again.

This time as she rides me Amelia has me assisting her rhythm. Unfortunately, however, it’s clear that this configuration of our bodies is less effective for her. Despite the fact that her f*****g is as frenzied as always it takes her far longer than usual to reach orgasm. By the time she does my arms are aching and leaden. I’m acutely relieved when she faces forward again and again restrains my hands at my sides for further riding.