Bedroom of a Salesman

The plowing of his ass became even more intense and rough, as Peggy slammed him as hard and fast as she could—his legs went perfectly numb, when the strongest orgasm he ever experienced hit him like a runaway train.

He whimpered and groaned, as thick streams of spunk shot out of his pulsating rod—to Peggy's delight, who spanked him. And it was that second orgasm that rendered his mind completely empty and felt as if all his problems and dark thoughts had been completely eviscerated.

When Peggy finally pulled out, after an extremely long session, he was sore, gaped, and had lost count of his orgasms.

"Consider this a reward for your patience and obedience," Peggy, panting, smiled and kissed him on the lips.

"That was...amazing," he replied, with a tone of befuddlement.

"And there's plenty more to come, baby."

"Can't wait," he kissed her again.

"How about some dinner first?" She winked.

As he limped his way up the stairs, his ass on fire, he could not stop thinking how magnificent it had felt—and it wasn't just the penetration, but, the way everything had culminated to it, the way Peggy had broken the machismo he had built through years of drinking and fighting in skid row dives.

The act of penetration was simply the last frontier; the final barrier that had to be broken, before he could wholeheartedly commit.

His lips curled widely, when she hugged him from behind, both still naked, as he stirred the slices of chicken in the frying pan and added crème fresh.

"Smells delicious, baby." She kissed him on the cheek, pinched his ass, and then opened the refrigerator. "Let's stick to water for tonight, huh?"