My Tryst with Forbidden Youth Ch. 03

"I told...you...not...to...fucking move!" His big hands catch my flailing arms.

He stops abruptly with his cock buried deep inside of me, his hands grasp both of my hands and pin me firmly to the mattress. With my upper and lower body secured I have no leverage to kick, all I can do is jerk my head from side to side and let out impassioned grunts. He is breathing heavily in an attempt to catch it while letting his weight do the work. It feels like minutes locked in this position, until my eyes finally meet his. His stare is cocky and self-satisfied. It's the stare of cat that's finally got both paws on the mouse.

Ash always wins in the end and I always take a serene sense of joy in losing. I like to lose. This time I make sure the struggle is sincere and fiercely fought. I want him to earn it; for him to show me his fitness and his strength. I want him to prove to me that his sperm is strong enough to fertilize.

All 7.5 inches of his, extremely hard and thick, cock pulse fully inside of me. He is a perfect fit for when I'm in a fully excited state. He's able to completely fill me and make me feel as if my expansion is just to accommodate him. On the bed, locked together, his balls rest up against my skin, his cock head pressed against my cervix reminding me not to move. His position is completely dominant.

He looks beautiful; sweat forming on his brow, his muscles rippling and straining from the physical activity; flexed to show me his strength. The dim light seems to drip from one side of his face to the other with subtle movements. His handsome and youthful looks project confidence. The sounds from the village below return to focus as my breath become slow, deep and measured during this respite. Our eyes stay locked, neither blinks; we're locked in a primal trance.

"What are you?" He utters through his clenched jaw.

"What are you?!" He shouts with anger in his eyes and his hands grip my wrists even tighter than before.

I refuse to answer him in an act of defiance, as if to test his strength. He releases my left wrist but I don't dare raise it in resistance; it feels as if he's still pushing it firmly into the mattress. He leans forward and grips my hair around the back of my head, bunches it up in a fist, and pulls very hard, so hard the roots strain in my scalp.

In measured and direct words, paying no attention to my pain, he demands, "What are you?!!"

Whimpering softly and nonsensically, I attempt softening my eyes in an effort to invoke sympathy. I will fight now more. I appeal to his sense of mercy with submissive signals. Mercy which I know will not be coming. Not until he gets what he wants.

"I'm a fucking slut! A fucking whore! I'm a fucking whore!" I cry out and continue to cry out as he starts fucking me even harder than before.

If we have neighbors they can, no doubt, hear this noisy and desperate fucking. My feet dangle in the air as if lifeless, shaking on either side of his vigorously thrusting body. He's fucking me so hard; it feels like he's going to push through my stomach. This isn't about my body; he isn't asking me what I want this time. He's just taking what he needs. He doesn't touch me softly or caress me and he doesn't ask if it hurts. He just wants one thing, he wants my pussy and he wants it on his terms. He is making sure I'm open and receptive to his seed.

Rough sex like this can't be contrived, it can't be asked for and it can't be performed. When it's genuine it comes from raw emotion and lust. Inspiring those feelings gives me the sense of eroticism which can't be replicated. Each time it manifests is unique; each time it is an experience that must be enjoyed in the moment. His manly ferocity being directed at me, and accepted by me, makes me feel my most feminine; nothing else but rough sex can bring me that feeling. My adrenaline pumps and puts all my senses on a razor edge. My thoughts no longer form with coherence; they have all been stripped to their most basic and primal. It is in this state that my first orgasm takes control of my body.

Orgasms, ephemeral by nature, take on many different forms; some can run contrary to this nature and stick with you for years or even decades. An orgasm such as the one pulsing through my body is the sort that can change you perspective. There is always one orgasm that you measure all the others against. For me there is no precedence for the orgasm he was giving me; it will be the orgasm that will define the rest. He had been bumping my cervix with his deep hard thrusts and building up heat on my g-spot simultaneously throughout our intercourse. My nerves are open, sensitive and receptive. A feeling of love washes over my entire body sending chemical signals to every nerve and creating a perfect storm. Only the feeling of deeply expressed love and complete this feeling.

"I love you...I love you...I love you..." I almost weep in pure joyful bliss.

Instinctively I know he is about to cum. I strain to find some breath to utter the words, "Cum inside me..."

His grip on the back of my head tightens. His face strained with exasperation relents. He holds me in place firmly. He makes sure I'm secure and that no sperm escaped as a result of my orgasmic convulsions. Overwhelmed by the intensity and fueled by adrenaline, I try to take air into my lungs before releasing it in uneven moans and grunts.

At the moment of my most intense climax his, slender and muscular, body freezes in a temporarily ridged state and then melts completely on top of me. He's doing what I asked of him; he's cumming inside of me and grunting very loudly. I moan in wonderful agony. The orgasm he's giving me is prolonged by my need to climax with in unison and thereby sucking his sperm deeper. All of my needs are fueled by instinct. My pussy grips his ejaculating cock very tightly and milks ever last drop. He had won the right; my fertile womb is his prize.

"Ughhhh...Ughhhhh" He growls while he strains to shoot the remaining sperm from his body into mine.

Wrapping my arms around his back I feel the sweat on his shoulders and the contractions of his breath. Still connected we remain locked in the embrace enjoying the calm after the storm. He's inseminating me and we both know it and are allowing it to happen. More than just allowing it, I had encouraged it and wanted it. Entangled as one body on the mattress we make sure my hips maintain the slight upward tilt until we're sure that he hit the target.

"I love you." He murmurs as he softens completely into my arms.

He continues to mumble soft and vulnerable words of love. I become his protector and comforter in a reversal of roles. His head falls between my breasts, his body limp and all of his energy spent; he has been stripped of his defenses. I softly caress his hair and return his soft words in kind. Elation and joy is all I feel. It's as his sperm is causing a reaction inside me much deeper than an orgasm. I know that I'm pregnant.

Nothing is ended before the day is over another dawns in the form of my young lover, Andrew Ashton.