An Aperture Apart

Slowly Paul lifted her, his fingers digging into her flesh. The sudden contrast between being full and empty made her moan. He poised her right at the tip, letting it slip out entirely and rub against her clit.

"Where did— you learn to fuck like this?" Aiko breathed, the syllables barely slipping between her teeth. Her hands held onto the slick skin of his forearms.

"A lot of reading." Paul positioned her over him and before she could process what that meant, slammed into her again with as much fury as the first thrust, hitting the same deep barrier with full force.

"Oh god— Paul—" she wailed. Aiko feared that he'd damage her, but was more afraid that he'd stop. "Paul—"

"It's okay," he assured in a hushed voice, "it's okay." He lifted her and pounded into her again, this time more swiftly and with less ferocity. Gradually they fell into a fast, frantic rhythm.

"Remember to look at me," he said again when her eyes absently shut from the onslaught. Aiko opened them with great effort, panting uncontrollably as her breasts bounced and quivered from his relentless thrusting. The room was charged with their grunts and the wet sounds of their fucking.

Paul's face tensed from the building pressure. She watched him swallow dryly, the tips of his teeth meeting behind his parched lips.

"Paul—" she gasped. "I'm gonna— come if we keep—"

"Me too."

Just as she felt her stomach tighten he quickly sat up, pushing her onto her back. He continued slamming into her, each thrust now beating against the belly side of her passage. Aiko threw her head back in an unbearable rapture—she was so close.

Paul buried a hand her hair, bringing her head back to face him. His other hand found her breast through the fabric of her shirt and fit his palm to its shape. He had a tenderly swollen nipple pinched between the knuckles of his middle and ring fingers.

"Look at me when you come, Aiko," he whispered, his own orgasm drawing near.

Each of his thrusts slammed into her like a fifteen thousand ton freight train. Her body convulsed forcefully, her fingers finding and digging into the taut skin of his stomach. She felt on the verge of a black, thunderous death as she came. Paul swiftly leaned down just in time to smother her scream with his mouth. Her pupils dilated silently into black, bottomless discs as she stared into his eyes.

Her muscles clenched down around him with unforgiving force, driving him past that blinding point of no return. His entire body tensed and froze as he was caught halfway in her. Hot cum surged out of him in shuddering spasms and into her spent body.

*

In the early hours of the morning, Paul woke quietly.

A tired Aiko lay close behind him, breathing shallow, even breaths. He didn't move. He cracked open bleary eyes to see her upturned camera on the floor, soaked in whiskey. An empty juice glass lay on its side several inches away.

In his half-asleep mind he saw the camera's contents readily dissolving, the roll of film inside its body a gnarled tape of stunning, invisible colors.