Yumi and the Chairman of the Board

I relent, and let the poor creature breath. Drawing my shaft from her saliva filled mouth, slowly, like some mammoth piston. Her eyes are wide as she gulps in air and watches the shaft, glistening with her saliva, withdraw like some primeval trunk from her mouth. Still it comes. What an exit! I think, with some pride! One of her tiny hands comes up to it and, almost in awe, strokes it's departing largesse.

And then the tip comes out. 'Plop!' The sound it makes. Her eyes lift up to mine. Her head comes off the bed and with her eyes on mine she gives the tip a kiss. I smile. Her eyes loose their focus and soften. I reach for her and lift and turn. I've got her on the bed, all fours, doggy style. Her hands are reaching back between her legs for what I am about to offer. I give her the tip, still wet with her saliva. She gingerly moves it to her pussy, nicely moist, glistening, opening like her other lips have so recently done. She spreads the lips to admit my shaft to her inner sanctum.

'Inner sanctum' – I like that.

The invading Mogul King rapes the inner sanctum.

She takes the tip inside her. The idea of ravishment comes to mind. She seems to spread her pelvis, hips. Even her buttocks seem to part as she forces herself back at me, admitting my member yet further into her. She is molten metal hot. I can feel her insides as they crawl up the shaft of my penis. So tight. So tight, that when half my prick is in heaven, the other half's relegated to the air-conditioned cool of the room. I lean over her back, and start to kiss her neck. I hold her hips, one hand on each, and whisper through my kisses, "Hold tight."

And she does. She freezes in position.

I thrust. Hard. Sixty-percent admitted.

Tight and hot and GRASPING.

I ease out a tad, then again. I THRUST!

"Ngraah!" She gasps. Her fingers are between her legs, flourishing gamely on her clitoris, seeking more arousal, more moisture to ease the monster on it's way. I find her earlobe, bite it. She reacts, and gasps, and offers more. I withdraw my prick most of the way, then bite again. She gasps, her back arches and I thrust! - Thrust! - THRUST! Her spine seems to buckle. Eighty percent admitted.

My hands are on her breasts. Hers are on the bed, pushing back at the assault. I withdraw, a half inch. Her spine regains its shape. I halt the withdrawal. She arches her back. Her head comes up. I squeeze her breasts, and she gasps – and I ...THRUST!

Bull-dosed further in. Pushing and spreading and butting like the blunt hard nose of a big bull seal.

"Argh!" she gasps. Much higher-pitched than before. Almost a cross between a gasp and a cry. I slither back an inch. The gasp becomes a moan, and I ... Thrust! And, Thrust! And, Thrust! And she, "Aeghs!" and "Aeghs!" and "AEGHS!"

I stop. I am imbedded in the girl to the hilt. There is so much going on inside the sweet thing that I to stay where I am and savour it. As if the whole inside of this lovely little Japanese newlywed is rearranging itself to make room for this hostile invader. There are ripples, and movements, and moistures, and adjustments. And spreading of heat and solutions, as if to make me feel at home. Her breathing has become a series of gasps. Her fingers are clenched on the bed. Her head has dropped. But I make it come up, by slowly easing out of her.

The long shining tresses of her jet black hair come up from the cover of the bed like seaweed being lifted from the sea. Her neck arches, first as my prick's almost out – then it stops, as does she, and we wait, count of three – then her head leaps back as my prick rams home and fills her to the hilt a second time.

"Ngeeee!" she yelps. Then 'Ngraaaah!' she moans.

Out – In

"Ngraaah!" – "Yeough!"

"Ngaaah!"

In – "Yeough!"

But enough of this play!

Time for some serious fucking, I think, but do not say, of course.

Her body starts to shudder and convulse. The sounds of the groans and the moans from her mouth take on a life of their own. Like Irish bagpipes used as a punchball by a crazed baboon: "Ngraah!" – then, "Aaah!" – and, "Aaah!" again – then, "Ngraah!" – and, "Aaah!" – and, "Ngraah!" again – then "Ngraah!" again. Again. Again.

Her face is screwed up in an expression of exquisite pain. I love when I have them like this. When all they want is for me to go on, so that they can go on, with occasional interludes, ten seconds long, sometimes more, but rarely less. When they climax, and soften, then shudder, then catch up, then go on, again, until they are hit with the next one. Five, then six, I counted from her, (for I am a climax freak, and like to keep score). I like to see them go over the top, over the wall, and drool for more. I can control myself, of course, and do. She can't, however – and doesn't, no matter.

"Ngraaaagh!" She gasps, shuddering a sixth time, eyes rolled into her head.

I watch her face in the mirror across the room. Contorted with rapt concentration as she climbs up the rope of my prick, bouncing it into and out of her sleek and sweet and slick and sweat-covered body. Then the flash calm of bliss as she orgasms taught and intense. And then – because I haven't stopped yet! – the concentration again as she tries to catch up, get back into stroke, back into rhythm, back to the bottom of the next rope to climb. And we're off again:

"Ngraah! – Aaah! – Aaah! – Eeeh! – Eeeh! – Eeeh! – Oooh!"

The music next door has been turned up. More than once. Now it blares! (Has my tender companion been squealing too loud?) She's approaching her next fiery summit. I feel it the way her thighs go hard, spread wide. As if she is about to jump.

"Mheeeeewh," she keens, and this time I slow, to let her milk it fully.

"Mheeeeewh," she keens again, all soft and acquiescent in my arms.

Once she is milked, and juiced yet again, I roll her over and rearrange her legs. Then roll her again and position the sweet thing astride me. Her on top, me beneath, the big guy deep inside. She is covered with sweat. She glistens like a smooth rock beneath a waterfall. Her eyes are soft pools, bereft of focus. "Meeeoow," she gasps, her lips wide apart, her eyes mere wanton slits.

Her hands are flat on my stomach, my penis, rampant inside her has started to interest her again. She starts to ride it towards her next big event of the night.

Insatiable little hussy that she is, I think to myself, as I watch her!

There is nothing I need to do now. Just stay as big as I am, and where I am, for she will do the rest. I watch her eyes, now closed, and her back, now arched, and her hips, bobbing tightly up and down, aiming her clit at my pubis. Then faster. I reach for her neat rounded hips, cup them both – not to speed, or slow, but merely because I like to feel their muscles work. (They have started to work again.) Breathless already: "Ngraah! – Aaah! – Ngraah! – Aaah! – Aaah! – Aaah! – Ngraah!" In the end, this time, I have to join her. Her facial expression is one of such rapt and concentrated energy, and dark wanton lust, that I succumb myself. I unload deep inside her.

"Ngeeeaagh," she gasps in a loud and high-pitched gasp-cum-scream, which makes my own sound weak by comparison. But I do. Gasp. Then her eyelids lift, a fraction, and through them she sees my expression, (my peace,) and she crumples on top of me. We stay like that – she laid out astride me, me still deep inside, catching our breath. Then her arms come slowly round my head and hold it tight. I notice in the mirror that the door has opened, a tiny gap. The face in the gap seems surprised. Or disappointed, perhaps. It is Taganaki. Seeing that his wife is all right, perhaps. But he sees that she wife is on top – so (presumably) must be alright.

The door softly closes again.