Invasion

There wasn't exactly any pain—it was more a sort of constant throbbing as he started going in and out, back and forth. And when he wrapped his arms around my chest and took hold of my breasts, I felt a sense of utter helplessness that made it seem as if I was totally under his control. And I guess I was! But somehow I didn't mind. I know it's horribly unfeminist of me, but I've always felt that a man should take charge during sex. I mean, it comes naturally to him. He sticks his thing into a woman; a woman doesn't stick anything of hers into him. So it's right that he should be in control.

And Chris certainly was. His body was totally covering me; his thing was probing my deepest recesses in a way that had never happened before; he was kissing the back of my neck and my cheek and my shoulder almost as if he wanted to eat me up. I just lay there, passive and unresisting. Was I actually enjoying it? It's hard to say.

But I did come twice.

Yes, twice. The first climax occurred only a minute or two after he'd gone into me. Again I started to shake and quiver so much that he almost slipped out of me; but he held on tight and stayed in. Then, as his thrusts became faster and harder, his hand slipped down to my sex and he began fondling me down there. Oh, man, I love it when a guy does that!—although of course no one had ever done it in this position. His fingers were so relentless, and yet so gentle, that they brought on my fifth orgasm. That sure was a recod for me!

And it seemed that my climax inspired his own, as he then began sending his second emission into me. Once again I felt every drop splashing against the insides of my—well, you know where. The feeling was so strange that I almost thought I might have come again, but probably not.

He remained firmly embedded in me after it was over, and that was fine with me. More and more, I was feeling such a sense of fusion—body, mind, and soul—with this incredible stranger. But he really wasn't a stranger anymore, was he? I somehow felt I knew him better than I'd ever known any other man in my whole life.

When he finally pulled out, he hastened back to the bathroom—I guess he wanted to wash. When he came back and slid into bed, he gave me this strange look. Chris had a way of peering intently at me as if there was something unfathomable about me that he desperately wanted to figure out. At last he spoke.

"You, um, seem to come a lot."

I must have blushed crimson. Anyway, my face felt all hot and red.

"Yeah, I've always been able to do that."

He gave me this wistful smile as if to say: Gee, how lucky you are!

But he did more than that. With his right hand he again stroked my face (something I'd already come to love—no man had ever done that to me so tenderly), then went down and brushed both of my breasts, one after the other, then my stomach, then my pubic area (he rubbed his hand back and forth over my bush in a way that kind of tickled me)—then, at last, reached my sex.

Still staring fixedly at me, he began to stroke me.

My area down there was all wet! Both with his stuff and mine. That made me blush even more. Gee, I'd never been so wet with any guy before, and there was something really naughty about it. It just showed how much pleasure we'd already had—maybe more than two people had any right to!

But Chris was keen on giving me even more pleasure.

He was skilled, believe you me! With delicate fingers he fondled the insides of my labia, sometimes sticking two or three fingers deep inside me (where they quickly became covered with the remnants of his emission), then used his thumb to stimulate my clitoris. Omigod! I knew what was going to happen.

I don't know how to put this in a way that doesn't make me sound like a—well, you know what. But I came three times in about twenty minutes.

Every time an orgasm washed over me, I shook all over and also giggled uncontrollably. And I couldn't help squeezing my own breasts and twirling my nipples—they're very sensitive! Chris's eyes widened with each one of my climaxes, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. But he seemed almost as delighted with them as I was.

So now I had come eight times. But, dazed and light-headed as I was, I didn't fail to notice something happening to him.

He'd gotten hard yet again.

Could he really want to do it again? I'm sure I'd never been with a man who could do it three times in one session. Was that even possible? But it sure seemed to be.

As I gazed down, half in admiration and half in a kind of nervous alarm at his huge erection, he said in that mild, gentle voice of his:

"Do you want to ride me?"

I blushed again, but for a different reason.

"I don't know what that is," I said, feeling foolish and naive.

"That's when I lie on my back, and you squat over me and put my thing in you."

Now it was my turn for my eyes to get big. That seemed like an interesting way to do it—but it also would make me feel so . . . exposed. That was silly, wasn't it? Who was there to watch, except Chris himself?

I nodded and got into position. By this time I'd totally forgotten that I still knew next to nothing about this guy and that he'd invaded my house and my bed and my body in a way that he really shouldn't have. Somehow I now felt I'd known him for years and years. We didn't need words: we just needed the intimacy that comes from being naked together, skin on skin, and the repeated copulations and climaxes we'd both had.

I climbed onto his thighs and took hold of his thing. Gosh, it was so big! I had a feeling that in this position it would really go deep in me. But I'm not a coward! So, taking it in my hand, I raised myself up a little and brought it to the threshold of my crevice. I gave him a worried look, but he smiled back reassuringly at me. And then I stuffed his thing into myself.

I lowered myself very, very slowly onto him, and I saw him watch his cock disappear into my vagina. It seemed as if it took minutes for me to get it in me—and then all of a sudden I felt his stubbly pubic hair against my labia. He was in me all the way! Once again it felt like some questing mole burrowing all the way through me—but there wasn't any pain at all. It was heavenly!

I started bouncing up and down on his cock, and my breasts started to wiggle as I did so. That seemed to delight him, because he reached up and took hold of them from underneath. Sometimes he twirled the nipples too, just as I'd done to myself. Other times he reached behind me and took hold of my bottom with both hands, giving them some good squeezes.

Well, you can imagine what happened. That's right: I came twice more.

The first time, a bone-shaking shiver went all the way through me, and I had to stop my bouncing. But that didn't bother Chris, who just gazed at me with awe and wonder at my ninth climax. Then I really got into it, coming down hard on his thing and making slapping sounds as our bodies met. After a while his face screwed up into a sort of grimace, and I knew he was going to shoot more of his seed into me. I desperately hoped I could time my tenth orgasm to coincide with his—somehow it seemed to me the most important thing in the world.

And we did it! As he bellowed like a bull, I felt his discharge shoot into me and I screamed like a wild thing. I'd never, ever done that before, and it embarrassed me even as I was doing it. But I couldn't help it: this was the most ecstatic moment of my whole life, and I hoped Chris felt the same way.

It took minutes for us to settle down, and I wanted to keep him in me as long as I could. But finally he indicated that he was getting a little sore, and so I reluctantly climbed off of him. As soon as I did so, a big, thick wad of his come fell out of my crevice and onto his belly. We both laughed at that.

There was a little more cuddling, but then he got up from the bed and began to get dressed.

My heart gave a little shiver. Was he really going to leave? I thought he'd stay all night. I was looking forward to having breakfast with him, even though it would have to be quick because I needed to get to work. This was a weeknight, after all!

When he saw my troubled expression he said, "I'm sorry, dear. I have to get an early start tomorrow. I'm an electrician."

I nodded glumly, wondering how I'd deal with the cataclysmic emptiness of my bed for the next several hours.

After he got dressed, he did something funny. He went back to the bedroom window and began to climb out of it.

Then he stopped halfway in and halfway out, looking back at me.

"Can I, um, see you again?" he said shyly.

I gave him a warm smile. "Of course you may." Then, after a pause: "And maybe you can use the front door next time, okay?"