Sister in Law

Frenzied. Wanton. Hungry. Lapping at her, willing her to orgasm. Sliding my legs on her thigh, not caring that the cooling fluid on her thigh came from my body. Not worried that it's slippery texture was not entirely enjoyable. Only able to concentrate on that pussy that my tongue teased, and the taste of her on my lips.

I lapped sucked licked and teased. I sucked and pulled and hummed. I heard great, wailing screams between soft whimpers of utter ecstasy.

"Oh FUCK Thomas!" she screamed. Now it was my turn to experience her orgasm. The stiffening of her body, the jerking of her hips, the vast increase in wetness I detected. I drank from her, this elixir of sexual perfection, and the orgasm slammed through her with force. She bucked and writhed, and my tongue and lips remained in place. She yanked on my hair and I felt no pain; she tried to push me away and I refused. I licked and tasted and dined on her body.

But there came that moment when she could no longer tolerate my tongue. That cry had a different hue, not hysterical, but definitely beyond full control.

"Are you hard?" she gasped a moment later.

To my amazement, I was.

I told her.

"Take me," she urged. Her legs opened and her nails dug into my shoulder, getting skin. She pulled, and I slid up her body. My cock did not need to be touched to be guided against her pussy. It was a heat-seeking missile and her heat called it in.

I moaned her name as I felt the skin on the head of my cock press to that wet entrance to her sex.

"Yes. Yes!" she moaned, her hips again rolling up. "Put it in me quick!"

No man really needs to hear that; there was again a frantic quality to my movements. How my back arched and my hips pushed down and forward and I was consumed by the sensation of my cock sinking into tight, slippery depths.

"OH FUCK!" I bellowed louder than her absolute screams of pleasure. Her legs rose and rose, ankles going behind my back, locking behind my back. Heels dug into my lower back. "Deeper!" she grunted.

Instinct took over. This was not in control. The moment was. That moment drove my hips, pulling out and slamming in, our bodies wet instantly. The way that I felt the light but pleasurable impact of my balls nestling into the crack of her ass, and how that wetness built to that light slapping noise. My cock straining under my body, my body clenching, angling my cock up inside of her body. That tight glove, wet and tight, gripping me and holding me and milking me.

Instinct. The hard plunge, her greedy reception.

Instinct.

Instinct.

I nearly lost my vision when I came. There was no way that this orgasm should have matched the power of my first. Yet it did, and her wails and the way her head was flung left to right to left, her mouth always open panting and gasping and moaning, her nostrils flaring and her body arched off of the rug.

The hip angle, accepting me deeply. The cock angle, pushing in as far as it would go.

Depositing my seed. Filling her body with my spunk, the hot fluids mixing with her lubricants sending my seed high up her body. Her cumming spasms that turned her hands into claws, the nails into talons, and the sharp pain as she dragged her nails over my back.

A scream and to escape, I plunged deeper again. And spurted again. Filling her more.

Orgasms begin suddenly. They end the same. But I could not withdraw, her pussy was cum-filled and tight and rippling from her shockwaves. I'd never felt this level of connection, bare sex organ in sex organ, and I knew I never wanted to move from this very moment. That even on my deathbed, this orgasm would be recalled. It was made indelible.

Her arms holding me loosely, that ragged moan of pleasure. I slipped out of her as easily as I had entered. She pulled me down to her, a kiss long and wet and tongue-heavy, then a turn. My back now to the fire, my legs again intertwining with hers. But now her right hand, on my face, caressing my cheek.

"Beautiful," she murmured. We nestled. Adjusted. We did not talk but remained safely in one another's grasp. A kiss, light and soft. "Better than my dreams."

"Beyond my wildest ones," I told her.

How long did we lay? I don't know. Ten minutes? Thirty? An hour? In every moment of my life that transpired after that first luxurious cuddle, I could never recall our conversation. Why would I want to? It was a moment to be treasured for all sensations except hearing. Satisfaction. Sweat and cum and musk. Heat of legs, smoothness of skin, tenderness of touch. Perfection.

The fire died down. She extracted herself, a frown on her face. She hurried away and used the bathroom and returned fresh. She stood, and held out her hands. Lifting me up, peering down and uttering a soft laugh. My attention turned to the spot she saw, and like her, I saw the mess puddled from our recent love.

"Not the first time on that rug, I bet," she allowed. Her hand squeeze pulling me along to follow, where we moved to that bed. Entering it, slipping between luxurious, soft sheets. Our bodies coming together, face to face where her breasts pressed to my chest and our legs twisted into one another's again.

"I never want this moment to end," she told me. There was suddenly a soft giggle. My body was again awakening and now the head of my erection poked into her soft abdomen.

"Good thing that it doesn't have to," I told her.

She kissed me. Told me to take her again.

It was cold that night. But we never felt it.