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I kept the rhythm, and when I felt close, she sensed it and ramped up the pace. Our bodies flew at each other like a rubber ball and paddle. She screamed and her vagina grabbed me like a vice grip and began to throb, milking me for all I was worth. I felt myself explode into her, with every jolt, a pull. Winding down, down.
We laid there until I went limp and she loosened enough that I crept out of her inner reaches. I rolled off her, and we held each other for several minutes, recovering.
Eventually she looked at me, and said, "Uri never said you'd be this good."
"What? Who's Uri?"
"He's this dogcatcher I know. Don't worry. You'll meet him someday. Everyone does."
This was one of those weird things you just don't expect to hear during post-coital relations. Of course she had to follow this up with, "You ever meet a satyr?"
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