Molly's Muse Pt. 02

He felt warm. Paul's insides kept clenching and releasing her cock like they were unsure what to do with the invader.

She started to piston in and out of him slowly, taking long, full strokes, still only moving in ways meant to stretch him out more than any outright fucking. The hard part of initial penetration might be over, but Paul wasn't fully accepting of her size, and if she started going as hard as she wanted to, it was possible to she could hurt him.

It was why she used the butt plugs in the first place, not that such musing did Paul any good at this point. The sounds he was making beneath her, however, told her the experience was benefitting everyone involved no matter how they had gotten to this point.

She curled her body up and around him, trying to bring as much of herself in contact with Paul as she could manage. She wanted to feel him.

Paul welcomed her touch and even began participating by lifting his ass slightly, more to let Molly know he was into this and less because he thought Molly needed any help from him.

She kept up her methodical pacing for a while longer. She could feel the stirrings of her first orgasm somewhere in the background of her mind and body. That part could wait, she would get there eventually, right now she wanted to make this time with Paul last as long as she could.

It was more than a business relationship now. The days of unenthusiastic fucks with guys who cared little for her and more about what she was providing for them was going to be a thing of the past. All she had to do was not fuck this up and she could have Paul like this, or he could have her, without the nonsense of some stupid book coming between them.

Stupid book? That was an odd thought for Molly. Her writing was all she ever had, her first and only love, her obsession.

Not only. Not anymore.

So, what then? Did she still even want to write this book? Paul had done his part. Molly had been so full of words and ideas since meeting Paul it was a crime towards her career that she wasn't spending more of her time writing as much as she was playing with Paul.

It was only one day, though, wasn't it? She could wake up tomorrow and spend hours doing nothing but putting words to paper.

She tried that already. The reason she was here, at Paul's apartment, in the first place was because she was more interested in being with him than she was in progressing any other part of her life.

This wasn't like her.

"Fuck Molly, you're going to make me cum," said Paul, who was now pushing himself back faster and harder onto the girlcock impaling him.

Molly hadn't even noticed he was doing it she was so lost in her thoughts.

Then his entire body clenched around her. Paul moaned her name, and all but begged Molly for more as he came into the sheets.

He begged for her cock. No one had ever done that. Hearing him beg for her triggered something in Molly she thought she was too mature, too successful, too in control to ever let happen again.

She dug her face into the pillow next to Paul's and lost herself, pumping faster and harder.

Girlish moans escaped from Molly's lips, muffled as they were by the bedding. She nailed him into the mattress with her weighty cock through Paul's fuck-hole. She clenched her ass, thrusting her pelvis hard, trying to reach deeper.

Slow and methodical was gone now. Her pace and force had quickened to an animalistic level Molly could no longer slow even if Paul needed her to.

The pinnacle approached fast and against her will. She wanted this to last longer, but she also wanted to destroy Paul's ass and leave him heaving in a puddle of her seed.

This is what she was meant for, right? To fuck? To give in to her base desires and breed everyone like a filthy fucking whore? That's what all dickgirls did, why should she be any different?

She looked down and saw Paul was sliding further up the bed every time Molly thrust into him. His hands were against the wall, but they looked too weak to keep himself from hitting his head against it. He'd stopped thrusting back into her and had almost gone limp. If it wasn't for his groaning he could have been thought to be passed out.

She knew once she came Paul would need her out of him, if only to recover from what she was doing to him.

She was hurting him. She had to be. Normal people weren't meant to take cocks as big as hers up their ass, especially not with the force and violence she was using.

Still, she didn't stop. Her mind was screaming at her to relax, to get control, but her body was doing anything but.

Her orgasm started to rock her, making her lose it even more. She was running on instinct now and fucked Paul with pure, undiluted dickgirl aggression, penetrating the man she was falling for with full, violent strokes she knew would be too much of a violation for Paul to withstand on only his second time with her.

She wasn't ready for Paul to see this part of her yet. Who would love a monster that could lose control and hurt him because she was too weak to slow down, too base to care for his wellbeing?

In the normal world, with normal people, Molly was barely more than raw lust and sex reaching for a dream of love and comfort she thought she didn't deserve. She was going to lose something precious after this, but there was nothing for it. Strip a person down to their base desires and they will always become a monster.

There was no stopping it.

That dirty, instinctive urge to fuck drove her on regardless of feelings. Her breath heaved, her cock thrust, her balls boiled, and when she came, the lights in the room around her shone brighter and clearer than she had ever known they could.

Flood.

Flood was the only word on Molly's mind as she filled Paul's ass. Each new spurt of girlcum caused what she had already unloaded to squirt and drip out of Paul's hole onto the sheets below. Each uncontrollable thrust of the animal between her legs squelched and sprayed the evidence of her weakness into everything she had ever wanted, mocking that she could ever think she deserved something peaceful.

Molly hammered down on the bell of debauchery and sin, ringing out a dirge to the lewd primacy she couldn't help but indulge.

It took minutes for Molly to stop. The cuming had waned some time ago, but she refused to let go of the orgasm. Refused to accept that this was the end, and that her poor, greedy girlcock would once again be alone and unloved in the cold air of the apartment.

Paul could never love her after this.

She fell into herself at the shame of what she was doing. It was disgusting. It was everything she told herself she'd never be. A walking, raging hard-on with no self-control.

She finally slipped from atop Paul and rolled to her side, bringing her cock with her, and releasing Paul from the prison she had forced him into. Her cock was still hard, and she ached for more.

She closed her eyes and struggled to catch her breath, almost letting her gasps turn to sobs, afraid of what Paul would say or think of her.

Her lamentations were interrupted by a warm body snuggling itself close, cozying its way into her sweaty form. A hand reached between them and grabbed her hard cock and started doing something with it, but Molly wasn't sure what. The body in front of her shuffled, adjusting itself in some way, and like that, she felt warm again.

She heard a whisper.

"Please Molly, I need more of you."

Paul. He wasn't mad or hurt or screaming condemnations at her for taking advantage of his willingness to have her.

He sounded... desperate.

He moved again, and more warmth enveloped Molly's cock.

It finally hit her what was happening.

Paul had curled himself into her spent body, taken her into his gentle hands and guided her back where she so selfishly wanted to be.

She thrust, probing to see if it was true. She sunk deeper. Paul moaned and pushed down, forcing even more of her hard cock inside of him.

Molly questioned everything. There was no way this was real.

"We can stop if you want," said Paul quietly, as if ashamed of what he was doing, "I just... you said you could keep going, you know, longer."

More? Longer?

Molly didn't understand. She was a ravager, a taker, someone willing to forsake another's body for the pleasures of her own... and yet?

"Please Molly? Just a little longer. You're still so hard."

He sounded almost guilty to Molly, like it was his lusts that were ruining everything.

She felt Paul wiggle again, but the positioning and her own hesitancy prevented him the leverage he needed to sink any lower onto her.

Paul sighed at his failure, too cock drunk to understand Molly's non-involvement in his efforts as anything other than rejection.

Even the ever-insatiable dickgirl, Molly Denton, his perfect, sweet girl, didn't want him after he had lost his usefulness.

No good as an author. No good as an editor. No good as a lover.

Pathetic.

Here lies the quake, drowning in the stillness of its own insecurity to shake the earth.

What a waste.

Everything was quiet for a few more moments, both lovers seemingly lost on their own fears or inadequacy.

It was Molly who moved first, thrusting her hips and driving her cock deeper into Paul.

He rippled, the force breaking him from his thoughts.

Molly dug her arms under Paul's and gripped his shoulders, holding him tight while thrusting again and pulling his body low to meet hers.

She curled her knees up until they met the back of Pauls' and locked her ankles with his, intertwining their legs. She thrust her hips again and buried her girlcock fully in Paul's hole.

Paul brought his free hand back around their bodies and grabbed Molly's ass, his hand gripping into her soft, pillowy cheek. He squeezed hard and did his best to pull her even closer into him.

The action accomplished little, Molly was again in control here. The gesture of grabbing her ass, however, meant more to Molly than she knew how to comprehend.

Paul needed her as much as she needed him.

She'd gone so long believing love and sex were separate things. That in order to have one, she needed to control the other. Paul's hand on her ass all but begging her to destroy his body, again, with her giant girlcock told her that here, with him, love and sex knew nothing of a superficial boundary.

The only regrets she would have when they finally tore themselves away from each other were the few empty minutes she had wasted letting Paul feel like she could ever have enough of him.

"You feel perfect," Molly said reassuringly.

And to show him how much she meant it, Molly brought her hips away until more than half of her cock slipped out of Paul and drilled back into him without mercy.

She did it again and again, bringing them up to an unforgiving rhythm that only intensified when Molly heard Paul moan and grunt for her to fuck him harder.

The frenzied dickgirl kept Paul locked in place with her arms and legs and fucked with her entire body behind each thrust. She wanted to penetrate so deep into him she could see her cockhead escaping from his mouth on the other end.

Sweat poured from her and her muscles ached from the constant strain she had them under. None of it mattered. The thought that she had been 'out of control' before was laughable. In her arms was a release from denial and she used him to vent a lifetime of unfulfillment.

Paul clenched his ass around Molly as he came. His body had gone submissive to Molly's desire save for his hand on her ass, which held on to her as if it were the only tether keeping him grounded.

Molly rammed herself home a final time and unleashed a new wave of her cum into Paul. She locked herself inside of him, not needing the added stimulation of continued thrusts to help her ride out her high.

The two of them now looked so still, if anyone were to see them from the outside the two of them would look like two normal lovers cuddling in bed after a stressful day.

On the inside, however, Molly's cock bathed in a pool of her own juices, twitching and convulsing with each additional spurt she unloaded, Paul milking her as best he knew how with his used ass.

Molly refused to let go of Paul this time and kept her once 'evil' appendage lodged deep inside the only man who had ever made her feel this good, this accepted.

Paul had come into her life a whirlwind of inspiration and fun. He was interesting and funny and looked at Molly as if she were a goddess made real. She yearned for his presence near her, so much so she had driven to his shit apartment so she wouldn't have to be away for even one night.

She had tried to settle herself in at home and write her new book while Paul was gone, knowing he would be back soon enough in the morning. The words had been in her mind pushing to come out onto the page, yet none did.

She thought it was just the newness of it. That eventually she would get used to having him around and her priorities would reset. It would become less about him and more about the book.

Paul untangled himself from Molly's embrace. She whimpered as her cock slipped fully from his ass in the move.

The disappointment didn't last long, though. Paul was moving only so he could turn around and bury his face in her sweaty tits. Molly held him close and squeezed her massive mounds around his head.

The only place she may love having Paul as much as when he's sheathed on her cock is having him buried in her tits in whatever way he pleased.

He spent some time sucking and licking and teasing her nipples before coming up for air and bringing himself eye level with Molly. He smiled and took all of her into his arms, embracing her tightly.

Molly would have been happy to stay like this, laying together calmly until they both fell asleep, but Paul had other ideas.

He threw a leg over her ample waist and his hands went to her hard cock and brought the tip back up to his entrance. Molly didn't hesitate this time and immediately thrust herself inside, the rest of her body still snuggled close into his.

"That's my sweet girl," said Paul, sighing as he held Molly in his arms and in his ass, "my turn to take care of you."

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