At last he had to wrench his face free in order to breathe.
Heaving oxygen into his exhausted lungs, he felt her come, chill and crusty, drying on his cheeks. His orgasm had passed, leaving an ache of satisfaction in his guts again. She still had his phallus in her mouth. Straddling him, her pussy brushing his throat, his face sticking up between her sleek, tan thighs, she kept sucking his cock.
Even though he had just come a second time, he was still hard. He would never have believed it possible, but blood still flooded his exhausted organ. Even as the last drops of come were drawn into Karen's mouth, he felt new sperm pooling in his guts. Lying there, her thighs pressing his cheeks in a warm embrace, Harry felt the sun on his face, the come on his nose. He felt her sucking mouth urging his body to undreamed of heights. He couldn't tell if he was numbed by the unending stimulation, or sensitized by it. He felt peculiarly detached from his cock. He was only vaguely aware of the delicate pressure, the occasional cut of her teeth. But he was exquisitely aware of her tongue against his glans. He could feel her cheeks pressing the flanks of his prick as she sucked on it. He could feel the blood rushing to the tip of his cock because of the vacuum she was creating there. He knew it was going to take a long, long time for her to bring him off again. At this point, all she was doing was keeping his erection. If she stopped, he'd lose it instantly, and he knew it. Evidently, she knew it, too. She kept her mouth around his cock, kept massaging his organ with her tongue. He felt her breath puffing hotly against him as she breathed through her nose, recovering from her own second coming. He focused his attention on the physical sensations assaulting him. Primary among them was the touch of her mouth on his cock. There was the sweaty slickness of her body on his, a stark contrast to the harsh bristly grass under him. He could feel her breasts, soft and squashy, squirm on his hard belly. He could feel her nipples probing him like burrowing animals. Her inner thighs were satin smooth against his hot cheeks. He stroked his hands down-or was it up?-from her ass towards her shoulders, caressing the flawless expanse of skin. Her body was a graceful series of curves: hips to waist, waist to ribs, ribs to shoulders. He stroked the series over and over again, loving the feel of her. His cock was gaming strength, getting harder and more impatient, but very slowly. His balls were wringing out still more sperm. He was going to come again-eventually. Jeez, how could something that hurt this way feel so damn good, too? He was in agony from the prolonged sexual stimulation, but it was such wonderful, exquisite agony. He stroked his hands down from her shoulders, toward her ass, toward his face. He gripped her buttocks and tried to indicate he was ready and willing to eat her pussy again. But she kept her pussy planted firmly on his throat, her mons nestling his chin. Evidently, she had no desire to be eaten again. Harry didn't mind. All he cared about, all he could think about, was how his guts felt as they got ready for yet another convulsive, climactic effort. There was a knot of fiery, frantic exhaustion deep in his belly. His prick was leaking. It felt like acid was eating its way the length of his bloated penis, then spilling into Karen's sucking mouth. Now, she could release his cock without worrying about its losing its rigidity. He was jacked up so high now that a break in the stimulation wouldn't cause a letdown.
Lifting her head off him, she got to her knees and crawled down his body, her pubis scratching all along his torso. She deliberately dragged her crotch down his body. She didn't lift even when his cock, draped up against his stomach, pushed eagerly into her hairy snatch.
She angled her pelvis, and his prick drilled into her hot vagina, surging from horizontal to vertical as her hot folds engulfed it. Then she was in the saddle, the pommel rammed up into her belly. Leaning forward, her hands on his thighs, she stared at his feet and rested, his cock once again sunk in her vagina. He lifted his head and looked down at her lush round ass, the bifurcation, and the flash of his cock in the crack, the graceful sweep of her back. She looked over her shoulder at him. Her face was flushed, her chin sparkling from her cock-sucking. Her eyes glittered with excitement. “Ready for another ride?” “Jesus, yes. Never would have believed it possible, though.” “You've got a lot to learn,” she teased. “Hang on.”
He braced his head up as she lifted off his prick. He watched his phallus appear under her, shining white with her juices and his semen.
She paused, and he stared at the point his cock connected him to her.
He savored the feel of his nerve-loaded glans being hugged by her hot folds, while the shaft was chilled as a breeze dried the fluid coating it. She lowered, his cock vanished and was totally in her body again. He reached down and cupped his hands to her buttocks. He guided her gently as she lifted and dropped. The strange, backwards position was new to him, and stimulated his prick in a way it had never been stimulated before. The angle of penetration, the surfaces in contact-it was all new, and built his level of pleasure still higher.
The puckered bud of her anus seemed to wink at him as she pogo-sticked up and down on his cock. It looked like a little flower nestled between the soft pillows of her buttocks. He had an urge to touch it, but restrained himself. Instead, he spread her ass cheeks so he could see better. He wondered how long his pleasure could go on. He was beginning to think it would last forever. Every stroke sent a thick wash of juices pouring from Karen's cunt down into his thick pubic bush, down over his straining testicles. She was flooding him as she humped herself on his phallus. Her head hanging, she was looking under herself, watching his cock ram in and out of her twat. Sweat glistened on her shoulders, formed tiny drops that trickled down her back. His neck exhausted, Harry let his head drop back to the grass. He kept his hands on her tail as he savored the agonizing blaze in his over-stimulated cock. He couldn't tell if the pool of come in his guts was big or small. He knew when he came it was going to be an exquisite combination of pain and pleasure. It was like that crazy time when he had been fourteen or fifteen and he had jacked off, again and again and again, until his groin was one delicious ache as it tried desperately to squeeze out just one more wave. How many times had he come that day? Surely, no more than three? Or was it? He had done it thinking of the new girl in town, Sarah, picturing her out of her bathing suit. He had felt horribly guilty afterwards. But this was here, and now, in the hot sun. Karen was driving each of them to yet another coming. It was his third, and he was almost there. Then he was over the peak. Aching, convulsing, clenching agony engulfed him as he pumped still another load of semen into the woman fucking him.
His calves cramped as sperm spurted into her spasming vagina. He heaved his hips upward until he had half her weight on his cock and its foundations. He felt as if he was being twisted, being wrung dry like a towel. He was struggling to squeeze out the final drops of semen and pleasure. His last pulsation locked him into a cramped knot, held him there for aching minutes, then let him crumble with exhaustion. Karen slumped forward until she was stretched out on his legs. Her breasts were molded to his shins. She rested one cheek on his feet. He felt her panting hotly on his instep. In a slow, languid squirm, she straightened her legs until her feet were by his shoulders. Her knees were pressing his ribs. His prick sucked back out of her cunt. It shriveled until it was huddled in her slit.
There was no feeling left in it at all. It was numb with exhaustion.
He decided he must have fallen asleep. The sun had moved appreciably when he came to. He felt Karen ease off of him. He was aware of other sounds in the clearing, the rustle of the wind in the trees, birds singing, and a soft whimpering. Turning his head, he found they were no longer alone. A girl and a boy, no more than seventeen, were erotically intertwined. His slender, youthful body moved with ageless precision as he fucked the willing girl under him.