Instead, Harry concentrated on his cock, and was glad she had suggested waiting. The pool of come gathering in his guts grew still greater as he savored the hot, wet sheath around his phallus. He could feel each delicate ripple of her vaginal walls, even the soft protrusion of her cervix, deep inside her body. Her grip on his buttocks eased, and he began to move almost without thinking about it.
Procreative instinct made him piston his penis in her clinging hole.
She was moving under him, lifting and thrusting, meeting each of his drives. She took him full depth, until the head of his phallus jammed against the end of her tunnel, stretching it. He was too far gone to hold back now. All he could do was see how high he could get before he began the long, shuddering tumble, an airplane fighting for altitude before it began the headlong rush earthwards. He quickened his drives, jabbing swiftly into Karen's willing body, cracking his pubic arch against hers, slapping his balls against her ass. His testicles knotted, squeezed, and his prostate erupted in a flare of pleasure as it added fluid and thrust to his coming. Semen surged the length of his prick in a series of jerking pumping bursts. His buttocks knotted, adding their bit to each ecstatic spurt of sperm exploding from the tip of his phallus, spattering deep into Karen's spasming vagina. His orgasm went on and on and on, the product of over a year's celibacy, a month of hoping, and an hour's visual stimulation. The spasming was further prolonged by Karen's skillful milking with her vagina. His organs reached unsurpassed heights as they struggled to drain his overloaded chambers. Eventually, his prick trembling in carnal dry heaves, Harry was left with a delectable exhausted ache in his groin. His cock retracted down the hot length of her clinging hole. He eased off her and lay beside her on the grass, panting quietly. He was aware of the sweat drying on his bare skin, the gentle touch of the breeze, the prickle of the grass. It was fantastic. He had never done it outdoors before. He thought, with a stab of pain, of Sarah, and how it had been with her. Always it had been good, conventional, loving sex, between the sheets, in the bedroom. But, God! How he had loved her, and she him. And then the lump, and the lingering, agonizing wasting death, as her own body cannibalized itself. “Fantastic,” Karen breathed softly.
“Unbelievable,” Harry sighed. How long had it been? Too long.
There had been too much staring at Jan, more and more the image of her dead mother. He had broken out of his cage before he attacked his own daughter. “Feeling better?” Karen asked. “Wasn't feeling bad,” he argued. The sun was burning through his closed eyelids. He shifted his head and found a patch of shade. Karen rolled to her side and stroked his chest with one finger. “You've been as tight as a bull next to a pen of cows,” she argued. “I could smell the hunger in you. How long has it been, Harry?” He shook his head angrily as her question echoed the one he had asked himself only moments before.
“She's dead, Harry,” Karen said bluntly. “She has been dead for almost a year now. It was time for you to start living again.”
Harry frowned, trying to deny her words, yet knowing she was right. He felt her soft fingers curl tenderly around his limp, drained penis. He felt that pale organ respond with a mindless, instinctive jerk. “This isn't going to let you,” Karen pointed out, squeezing his swelling cock. “It has more sense than that. It,” she said, squeezing his prick again, “knows that there is only today, that the past is dead. It knows what is important and what is not. I'll prove it.” She slid her head down his flat, muscular stomach. Her hair tickled his skin as she moved her mouth over his prick. Her lips caressed the bulb of his penis, her tongue bathed the glans, bringing a rush of blood to it. It was mouth to cock resuscitation. As she sucked on his organ, she eased around, slid one leg over his face. He found himself staring into her brown-furred pussy. She smelled deliciously of copulation. As she sucked on his phallus, she offered him her cunt. Her curling brown hair tickled his nose, then his face was smothering in her warm, soft fragrant flesh. He worked his lips and eased his tongue into her hot, wet crevice, even as his mind tried to deny her what she wanted. She was devouring his phallus with a ravenous eagerness that made his body respond in spite of his intellectual reservations. He tasted her hot, metallic flow. He tasted his own semen. He bored his tongue into her flooding vagina, feeling her slick folds ease apart to accept his probe. He curled his hands around her soft, smooth ass and drew her crotch down on his face, and massaged her lush buttocks. His cock was ready. It was more than ready. His balls were humming as they poured out waves of sperm. Then his glands armored them with thick secretions, readying them for the long trip down his phallus. Sensing the nearness of his orgasm, Karen eased off. She kept her mouth on his organ, but didn't move. Her hand was curled around his testicles, a loving nest for his balls. She squeezed gently and he felt his coming easing away, becoming less imminent. Seeking to stimulate her more, he sought her clitoris with his lips. He traced his way along the slithery petals of her slick inner labia, his nose sliding toward her vaginal opening. He felt her inner labia squirm away from his lips and realized he had gone too far. Sucking, he went back to where those folds of flesh formed a point. There, at that hooded peak, he found her hard, tantalizing button of nerves. He pursed his lips around it, and felt her push down on him, driving his head into the grass.
He was aware of nothing but her pussy. There was her smell, and her taste, and her oozings, and her pubic hair. Her sleek thighs were pressing his head. He drowned himself in her, finding unexpected pleasure in the act. He was barely aware of her mouth around his phallus until she began to suck on his prick again. Then, abruptly, he felt still another wave of semen joining what was already waiting. He felt his hot lubricant trickle into her mouth, felt her welcome it with her tongue. She savored his secretions even as he savored hers.
She was coming. She was grinding her pussy against his face as he sucked on her clitoris. He battered her nerve knot with his tongue, and felt her flood his face with her come. Her thighs clamped around his head. She writhed on him, her breasts squirming on his flat, hard belly. Her fingers dug into the back of one thigh as she clung to him with one hand, fondled his balls with the other. If she became confused, lost control, she would geld him instantly. He kept tormenting her sex, as if urging her to do just that. He was trying to justify himself by giving her as much pleasure as possible, trying to drown everything in a sea of sex. She was bringing him to an orgasm with her mouth, her tongue drawing on his prick, urging it to spurt into her mouth. He was going to. He was lifting to that exquisite brink, to the point of no return. If she was aware of his impending orgasm, she gave no sign of it, gave no indication she was going to retreat. He began to come. Hot shots of pleasure spurted the length of his phallus and into her working mouth. He felt her swallowing, and the pressing, sucking action of her tongue caused his cock to erupt even more violently. He poured his hot, sticky load down her throat, and felt the overflow pool around his prick. Then she swallowed again. She wasn't moving her cunt on his face any longer, but was doing her damnedest to crush his head into the hard ground. Her legs bent at the knee, her toes curled as her orgasm peaked. He tried to suck her clit out by the roots, sensing that it was what she wanted. She was still sucking the come out of his cock.