Santa's Chair

The angle was so different this time. Just the act of sliding down my pole made her whole body shake as my stiff tip rubbed the front wall of her silky lining. The look on her face was transcending as she came to rest with her firm ass resting on my lap. Joy and pain were together as bliss. She leaned forward and kissed me again, softer this time. "Thank you" she said in a whisper. She pivoted again, guiding my prick along her insides until she found the spot she was looking for. "OH" was all she managed when the second tremor overtook her. I waited a heartbeat after she stopped writhing then reached up and cupped her sizeable tit and brought it to my mouth. She cooed and whimpered, putting both hands on the back of the chair as I worshipped her amazing cleavage. I pushed both tits together and planted my face deep between them, smelling her sweat and the little hint of grapefruit left from her soap. Soft and warm underneath with the tops still cool from being exposed all night, even the wild fucking this far hadn't warmed her breasts.

She shifted, brought her feet up, and locked her heels into the crook of the arm rests and went to work. She pushed off with her feet and pulled in with her arms causing her body to saw back and forth along my rigid guide rod. I felt my tip bumping along the bony ridge inside her like it was being dragged over a velvety washboard. Each pass made her pussy clench hard around my pole as her orgasms squelched out around my thick plug. She whimpered, closing her eyes, and concentrating on the little pinpoint explosions deep inside of her that began to draw each other out. A pop turned into another into another so fast she couldn't find the end of one so close to the beginning of the next until bottle rockets became the Fourth of July at her core with each new sensation constricting her muscles tighter around me. The methodical sawing gave way to frantic rubbing as she used her pelvis to guide my dick to the single spot that produced the most electricity for her. Her nipples had dilated down from pink halos to cherry red nubs engorged with blood and endorphins. I punished that spot as the concentration along the underside of my penis' head pushed me further towards my own impending eruption.

I abandoned my grip on her alabaster mounds and switched. One hand held flat against the small of her back while the other reached behind her and up, twisting a handful of short auburn into a firm grip and puling her head back, exposing the line of her neck and collar bone. I am a tit man, through and through, but the only sight that drives me further than huge breasts, sweaty and heaving, is the look up from them along unmarked chest to clavicle and throat. A woman, vulnerable and open, on display in a way both crude and refined in its beauty moves me past just the urge to rut in her and takes away any control I have other than to let go with all that I hold.

Lost in the sight, I didn't hear Dana squeal out her intentions. I didn't know how close she was herself. I just knew that looking up at her, as she quaked through an orgasm that shot lightning from her head to her toes through her sex, I could do nothing but let go. I came, hard, shooting like I hadn't already made a mess of my pants upstairs once, like I didn't jerk off in the shower before coming to work, like I never had before. I flooded her belly with my seed and I loved it.