Lovemaking with him was, in a word, intense.
I felt his cock- perfectly sized, rock hard, pushing into me, my pussy gripping tight around him as I gasped into his ear, his strong frame on me, grinding me into the mattress.
It wasn’t fucking. There’s nothing wrong with fucking, but the slow, incredibly deep, rotating thrusts inside me were not the usual hard pumping of a young horny man fucking a new lover. No- they were rhythmic ecstasy, nearly cinematic in how they made me feel, hitting weak spot after weak spot.
There was no stopping the heights of bliss I reached. Over, and over, screaming his name as he held me, kissed me, lost himself inside me. I needed to warn him
*Please, I’ll squirt if you keep going. Please…*
So of course he went faster, deeper, harder. But never straying away from the tenderness, the care, the control. Never fucking me like a desperate boy, just taking me like a man
Full control. Certainty. Safety. Ownership.
Until we both climaxed, collapsing into one another, a human shaped pile of heavy sighs, shaking legs, and happy hearts.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/nv12di/watch_out_for_the_quiet_ones_part_ii