He wet his fingers in her cunt, enjoying the way she worked her ass back against him as he probed deep for the fountain of lubrication. Then he turned his attention back to her anus, stretching it with one finger, then another and then two. She fumbled with something on the nightstand and came up with an ebony dildo and began rubbing it against her cunt as he opened her anus.
Finally he got behind her and impulsively slapped her ass. She jumped, startled, but then she sighed softly. He touched her hand at her cunt and moved the dildo aside so that he could bury his hard cock inside her cunt, relishing the gushing wetness of her arousal as he penetrated her.
He fucked her gently until his cock was wet and slippery, then he guided her hand with the dildo back to her cunt and, as she began masturbating herself with it again, he spread her ass cheeks wide and put the head of his cock at her anus. It was still tight, resisting. Desirable. He hungered to feel his cock entering her ass. At first he had to hold his prick and force the head into her, but then it was inside. He held her hips and began rocking his cock, driving a bit more of his cock in her each time.
When his hips came up tight against her ass, he draped himself over her and reached under her to squeeze her breasts. He could feel her working the dildo inside her cunt. “I bet I can make you cum in my ass this way,” she said.
“Try,” he said.
And she did, rubbing the dildo against his cock. “That feels good,” he told her. “But I need to move, to fuck your ass.”
And he did, ramming hard into her. His head spun and he no longer thought about her pleasure. The feeling of her tight ass as it milked his cock drove out thoughts of anything. If the end of the world came, he wouldn’t notice.
But then he came. He felt a tug in his balls as he spurted his semen in her rectum. Her ass was sucking it out of him.
They lay for time, their limbs tangled; sticky with the juices of lovemaking. When he finally left her bed, the poem that had eluded him felt close enough to touch. Perhaps the magic had worked, he thought cheerfully. Silently, he got up, gathered up his clothes and began to dress. The Skinny Girl watched him and smiled. He looked for anything in her eyes that might be accusing or expecting, and saw nothing. That pleased him.
When he was ready to leave he went over to the bed. She was stretched out across the white, the light from the window tracing tiger stripes across her pale skin.
“A very sexy pose…”
She stretched, running her hands across her thighs in a gesture so unconsciously sensual and deliciously languid that he almost lost his resolve to get back to his poem.
He felt sad that so many of the other people he knew were essentially Flatlanders, incapable of wandering into new dimensions because they didn’t believe those portals, those places existed. He could honestly say this was true about many people he knew, and there were others he didn’t know well enough to know where they drew lines in the sand.
He felt good. Gambling with The Skinny Girl had turned out well. As he walked home to his poem, he found himself whistling a stupid tune that he knew he would spend the rest of the day trying to remember the name of.