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“Yes, yes, yes!” I cried.
He picked my hips up in one smooth motion, as if I weighed nothing at all, and pulled me onto him further, deeper, penetrating me in such a way I had never been before — and knew I would never be again.
But he wasn’t done yet.
He flipped me over, my ass hanging over the edge of the bed, and entered me from behind.
His huge chiseled torso leaned over me, and I felt his impressive physique on my back as the muscles tensed and he drove into me.
His face was beside mine and he turned my face toward him so our lips could join.
Then he fucked me harder and caught my cries with his mouth.
He continued to hammer at me, pushing me toward, and then violently over my limit.
And still he hammered at me.
I couldn’t take it much more.
And still he piled into me.
Finally, I heard the grunt in the back of his throat and knew he must be close.
He wrapped his arms around me, one hand grabbing a handful of breast, the other around my bare shoulders.
He squeezed me, grinding himself as deeply into me as he could.
My breath hitched in my throat at him plumming me to all-new depths.
Black dots danced in my vision.
Much longer, and he was going to fuck me into unconsciousness.
He grunted again, and this time I felt his impressive member elongate, growing tight, and he moaned in ecstasy as he spilled his seed inside me.
After he was done with me, he lifted me up and placed me on the bed, covering me with the bedsheet.
His nostrils were flared and his muscles were swollen and massive.
He climbed into bed beside me and cradled me in his arms.
I had never felt so used, so excited, my entire life.
I was still panting for air ten minutes after we had made love.
I felt a true connection with him, one made of light, and I knew then that this thing we had, this relationship that spanned multiple generations, was real.
And as he kissed me gently, lovingly, on my shoulder, and his hand began to reach for my sex again, gently stroking it, I knew he was keeping my engines warm and he intended on taking full advantage of me again.
And if I didn’t know better, it wouldn’t be long.
I couldn’t help but giggle inwardly.
Yes, I thought. My answer is, and will always be, yes.
* * *
The suns of Ikmal cast dancing patterns across the walls of the prison, a luminescent ballet set against the backdrop of cold, lifeless concrete.
