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Andrés + Mila
episode: "scream your screams"
Andrés' mouth is slick from taking the juices between her thighs. This fount is effusive, with a pool of girl liquids on the floor under her body.
A: "Enough of this floor."
He draws himself up, bends at the knees and lifts her frame with a hold under her hips. She wraps around him horizontally, like a belt circling his waist, cinched by her hands grasping behind her knees. She makes no sound while he stomps across the studio into the bed alcove. He tosses her on the bed face down, pushes her legs apart and with no hesitation mounts from behind and thrusts inside.
No moan no screech no swear.
A: "Scream it out."
M: "No."
Four, five, ten power strokes from behind. Not a sound.
A: "Scream your screams."
M: "No."
He stops. He is in -- but blocked -- a clench of muscles denies him full vulnerability. She twists her hips to deny the cock. The refusal to groan adds to his rage.
A: "Let go."
M: "No."
He pulls out, spins around and straddles her at the waist. Using his elbows, he forces her thighs apart, grabs her bottom with both hands. Takes possession. Squeezes and pushes the flesh until he controls. This kneading does not overcome resistance deep in her pelvis. She tries twice to roll over -- he forces her to stay face down.
A: "Put your hands between your legs."
Her fingers appear from under, along the inside of her thighs.
A: "Touch the lips."
Each index finger eases into place.
A: "Cross your hands."
She complies, which makes the angle of touching better. He watches as her fingers tease and caress.
A: "Pull the lips open. Push some fingers in."
Her hands uncross, and fingers disappear, one from each hand. Mila eases herself open, gradually reaching deeper, gathering the silken flesh.
A: "I'm going to pull your hips apart. Really wide."
M: "No. No more."
A: "When I do, push your fingers in. Put them in as deep as you can."
M: "No."
A: "I know your legs can open more. I can feel it."
M: "I don't want to."
A: "Now."
He pulls the round mounds apart. Her legs spread another two inches. He watches her hands pull out, reform with two fingers each gathered at the opening, then slide and slither into her vagina.
She cannot stop a plaintive moan escaping her throat. She pulls fingers out, penetrating again, hands glistening when they emerge each time. The sight of her wide open, stroking herself, makes him burn.
A: "Give me the hot spot in there."
M: "It's not for you."
A: "Then touch it with your fingers. I'm holding your hips spread and watching you frig yourself."
M: "Oh, oh, oh."
She coos under this instruction. He feels the tension in her pelvis release. She reaches the core with her fingers.
M: "Oh oh oh oh."
Because she has already been ravaged by his mouth, she is not far from coming.
A: "Go all the way."
M: "Oh, oh -- Oh."
Mila's fingers inside the stretched-open sex, and the ones underneath on her outside spot, bring swelling, throbbing, and after more, more, more stroking, set her off into a muscle-clenching explosion. She has blasted herself into orbit. Face-down into the bed she screams with no inhibition, screams of joy that sound like pain.
He does not let her coast. Spinning off, around, and behind, not letting her close her legs, he wedges into position, pulls her hands out, splits the lips apart with the head of his organ and thrusts hard, true and fully in.
She tries to resist, to deny the inside spot. He pulls out, leverages his hips and pistons back in, even as she vibrates with orgasm.
M: "No, oh no. No. No."
A: "Fucking yes."
He wins. His assault goes home, reaps an exquisite surrender, the girl-melting.
Her screams catch in her throat -- frozen silence when she should have bellowed. But she is still coming. Still coming into the silent void, body arched in rigid suspension. His next three thrusts slam right into the releasing organs she had denied him. She cannot protect. On the fourth, the most powerful, her pent-up pressure spills out in a deafening scream, a new orgasm folding into the unfinished previous one, with another gathering even deeper.
Andrés gives no heed. A girl is split wide open under him. He has possession, as demanded. Into that spot he penetrates hard, masterfully, with total abandon, as long as he wishes. Not a thing in the world can ever, will ever, not ever, prevent his thousands and thousands of strokes, each as rich as the next.
When he reaches his last thrust, bellowing from the gut and splashing her insides, Mila is still grunting, quivering, and flooding beneath.
© John Kirnan 2003-2024
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"Andrés, you can be more ... aggressive." Right out of the blue.
"Mila ..."
"You are generous, Andrés. The fingertip touching ... these open kisses, I've never been kissed so deeply ... but can you be more rough, too?"
A potent pause. Then, "Be careful what you wish for."
"I don't want to be careful."
He held her eyes, seeking surety she was in full possession of herself. Of her very dangerous self.
"What can I do?" she whispered.
"Give me your safe word."
The room jolted with a shock. Mila's expression flashed raw, tinged with inevitability and a hint of fear. He didn't care. He moved his tea mug to the side and placed his hands flat on the table.
"My safe word is ‘time out'."
Andrés vaulted onto the table and over it. He smashed into her. Things went flying and crashing. He pulled her to the floor. She shrieked with laughter and shock, her scream igniting his animal brain, which knew no restraint.