A Tale for the Modern Attention Span
Naturally it wouldn’t go in at first. Slick as she was, there's no way she could accommodate more than the first inch. She continued trying, though. So intense were her efforts, she lost all concern as to whether or not the owner of her new plaything awoke. Up and down she went, with a slow, pleasing rhythm, taking a fraction more each time she descended. There were definitely some twinges as her insides stretched to heretofore unknown limits, but they were more pleasure than pain.
After ten minutes she’d managed to get almost half of it in. She was exhausted from the effort so she rested in place. Realizing she was also burning hot, she pulled her nightgown over her head and discarded it.
Unencumbered, she began anew. Her face twitched and contorted as she resumed the up and down motion, her hair matted to her forehead and beads of sweat—sexy sweat—ran down her chest and back.
After another ten minutes, three-quarters of it was in. Thousands of the women who have slept with Daedalus Bolt have been more than content with that portion, but not our Charity. She wasn’t going to stop until she had it all!
To that end, she increased her tempo. As she went faster, she could feel him getting deeper and deeper. Soon she was going up and down like a piston. Faster, faster. Wetter, wetter. She’d never felt so full, so complete, in all her life.
Finally she got what she’d been waiting for. She felt herself thump against Daedalus’s pubic bone. She stopped, exhaled wildly, and looked down to confirm that he was entirely within her. He was.
He was also now awake. “Wha—wha—what do you think you’re doing?” he said, staring up at her uncomprehendingly.
“Shut up,” Charity answered.
“This isn’t right!”
“Shut the fuck up!” she said with more force than she ever knew she possessed. She was close to something sublime and she wasn’t about to let him jeopardize it. Still fully impaled, she started moving back and forth.
Daedalus tried to object again, but he couldn’t. She was completely in charge. And with each one of her grinds, he found his will to object diminishing. It was all so excruciatingly pleasurable.
Initially he thought the bliss was owing to the fact that this was the soberest he’d been for sex in a long time. Maybe since the first time he’d done it (that memorable afternoon in junior high when the mother of his best friend seduced him—or vice versa). But then he realized his paltry blood-alcohol level wasn’t the only reason.
Every woman Daedalus sleeps with piles compliments on top of exaltations on top of praises about how wonderful it was—frankly, he’s never quite understood why. He enjoys sex, of course, but it’s never the life-altering event for him that it is for his partners. The aforementioned best friend’s mother didn’t take him to transcendent heights, nor did her daughter a couple of days later; the woman who gave him his driving test didn’t do it; the policewoman who pulled him over for speeding later that same day didn’t either; his high school French, Calculus, Economics and History teachers didn’t do it; nor have any of the strippers he picks up night after night at Chez Pussy.
But Charity was doing it for him. So much so that he found himself grabbing her tiny hips and helping her slide to and fro. He fit so exquisitely inside her velvet vice, their meshing was divine.
Then something remarkable happened to Daedalus. He felt the approach of an orgasm—completely unbidden. (Since shortly after that first time, Daedalus has been able to control exactly when he climaxes, the force of it, even the volume. But here he was about to come off involuntarily.) “Oh god,” he gasped.
“Oh yes,” Charity responded.
“I’m, I’m close.”
“So am I.”
“Soon, very soon.”
Suddenly they cried out in unison, “OH YES! RIGHT NOW!” as they climaxed simultaneously. Charity collapsed onto Daedalus’s chest, both of them panting immodestly, minds blown.
Continue Reading: Episode 51: Beauty, Everywhere You Look Beauty