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We shared an eye crinkling smile.

So this was that elusive thing called intimacy. You had to experience it to know how much it had been lacking before. Feel its fullness before you understood its absence. It was so much more than just a word.

It made making love into more than an action. More than sensation. More than want. More than lust.

Our bodies joining was more than a mating.

It was a place we had built together.

It was somewhere remote, separate from every other plane of existence where nothing else mattered. It was only the two of us. No one else existed.

It was where need collided with essentiality.

It felt necessary. It felt right.

It felt safe.

And that was terrifying. But so addictive I didn’t let that part bother me.

I was good at putting things off until later.

Deadlines.

Feelings.

I did everything I’d listed at her. I sat in her chair and buried my face in her pussy long enough to make her relaxed to the point of limp.

I carried her to the sofa, laying her back carefully over the arm, her hips propped at the highest point, legs dangling.

It was perhaps an advanced position but she’d always been a student that liked to excel.

I gripped her hips in my hands and teased her with my heavy cock, grinding my shaft against her, close to her entrance but not penetrating at first.

She was writhing under my hands when I finally sank my tip in, advancing forward more slowly than my body wanted to. Her body took me in, devouring, sucking, clutching at my girth deliciously. I made it a little more than halfway before my hips took over, and I rammed my cock the rest of the way forcefully into her.

The madness took over again, but I had enough brain function at least to make it good for her, finally.

I drove into her repeatedly, strong, measured thrusts, as she silently gasped, my finger relentless on her clit.

I pushed down on her hips, arching her back, so that every pull in or out was grinding against the rawest part of her.

Luckily it was hitting a good nerve going by the filth coming out of her mouth.

I fucked her into a limp puddle.

“Is it always like this?” Ro asked me sometime later. I was sprawled out limp on the couch, her limp self draped across me, her head facing up in my lap. “I think I get why you have a sex addiction.”

“One, no it’s never, ever like this. Only we are like this. Our chemistry is out of this world. And two, I do not have a sex addiction. I just really, really like having a lot of it.”

“Every day. Several times.”

“You say the sweetest things,” I told her. “Just give me a few more minutes and I’ll do my best.” Our affectionate eyes met. “It’s the damnedest thing,” I began softly.

“What’s that?”

We were both speaking softly, our tones almost romantic.

“I think I could fuck us both to death. Certainly I’m willing to give it an honest shot. Literally everything else is a worse way to die.”