West of Boston: Runner

She reached between her legs and cupped his balls as they tightened against his body. He felt her tighten and release, tighten and release, her vagina sucking at him as he pulsed in her. As the orgasm took her body over, he knew the time had come and he swung the hairbrush down onto the soft flesh, first on one cheek and then on the other. He leaned his arm tightly against her back so she could not fall or wriggle free and rapidly cracked the brush down on her tender skin.

In her coming she squealed pleasure and pain together, arching her back. Now that it was done, he allowed himself to come, and he roared with the intense sexuality of their fucking with a sense of completion that was more than physical.

Because of her pain, he did not allow himself the pleasure of going soft in her this time but pulled out. She had collapsed onto the hassock. He drew her to the floor and held her in his arms while she cried softly. When she stopped, he moved so he could tenderly sooth the reddened flesh he had caused, smoothing aloe onto the enflamed skin and along the lips of her sex.

Her head rested on the inside of his thigh. As he softened, she caressed his cock. Morgan's head was on her thigh and he lazily and gently soothed her rear and pussy with his fingertips.

Later, he dressed her in his shirt again and let her use the hairbrush. "This isn't bad for hair, either," she said. He laughed. He dressed to take her to her house. When she was ready, he looked at her. Even in a man's shirt she was as erotic as anything he'd seen. He could feel his groin responding, even after his orgasms. She pressed her hand to his cock, and smiled up at him.

"I am so glad I please you, Morgan."

He carried her to the kitchen again. They decided to finish the coffee. She sat on his lap for more than an hour. They were locked in an embrace that was both strong and gentle. He caressed her head, her shoulders, and ran his nails up and down her thighs. When she separated her legs for him, he slid his hand between her legs and stroked her sex. When she was aroused, he entered her with the tip of his finger. He whispered in her ear:

"I want you to do something for me," he said.

She whispered back and looked through her half-closed eyes. "Yes, Morgan?"

"Tonight I want you to fuck your husband more wildly than he has ever been fucked."

She blushed but nodded and held him tighter.

"And after you have done that for him, I want you to think of me and to touch yourself until you come. Think of the very best sex you can dream of.

"When I see you again," he said. "We will fuck the way you did with him, and we will fuck the way you imagined it."

She said. "When will I see you?"

He smiled into her eyes, lifting her chin up so he could kiss her, gently this time, as he stroked her sex.

"I need you, Morgan." She was now pouting playfully.

"I'm bad," she said. "…and I'm not sure I can be good if I don't see you."

"When?" he asked.

"Tomorrow," she said.

"Have you ever been cuffed?"