1. Double-Room


    Date: 9/7/2016, Categories: Mature, Author: marlowe, Rating: 3, Source: LushStories

    her body, feeling her wetness flooding down his meaty cock and pooling on the bed sheet, his balls slapping urgently against her bottom, the bed bouncing, the headboard banging and the springs squeaking under their weight, opening her body, stretching and penetrating, filling her tight opening without mercy. “Fuck, that’s good,” she cursed, pushing back to meet the force, feeling his swollen limb going deeper and deeper inside her body, swelling as it completed its journey, wriggling and twisting her hips, moving her bottom from side to side, making sure she had it all inside. “Fucking hell....Oh Fuck....Oh Fuck,” was her last declaration. A breathless gasp and a piercing scream of encouragement, a moment of sexual combustion, the waves of convulsions beginning their irreversible tidal surge, a wild thrashing of limbs, and a monologue of repeated obscenities, arching her body off the bed, tightening her legs and curling her toes, soaking him in a sea of orgasm, coming once and then twice. Breathing in short gasps through her nose and blowing air through her mouth, a battered and bruised body lying motionless on the bed, settling into silence, trying to calm from the unrelenting after-shocks of a spine-tingling release. No words were needed as he gathered his clothes from the floor. The sex had said it all. The long-awaited cries of euphoria spilling from a helpless mouth were all signs that Laura Beckett had slept alone far too often. It was still raining heavily when he ...
    stepped out into the dark street. Pulling up the zip on his jacket and opening the yellow umbrella, ignoring a shrieking cat showing sharp teeth before disappearing through the flap in the door, sprinting like an athlete down the dark street, squeezing his body through a gap between two parked cars, cursing at the local kids who found it necessary to throw stones at the street lights. He didn’t see, or hear the black BMW speeding up the road without lights, but he certainly felt the force of the impact against his right leg and the inevitable flight over the car bonnet before crashing to the ground in a pool of water. The woman’s voice was responsive and full of sympathy. “I’m sorry,” she uttered, apologetically, taking his arm and helping him to his feet. “I didn’t see you. The street is so dark,” she said, stooping to pick up the umbrella. “That’s why cars are given lights,” he retorted, limping to the safety of the footpath. Curtains started to move in windows of nearby houses as curious neighbour’s peeked out. “Let’s get out of the rain,” she said, opening the car door. “Are you injured?” she asked, shuffling nervously in her handbag, cursing a couple of times until she found her cigarettes. “Aren’t you supposed to offer the wounded a cigarette?” he said, forcing a smile. “Sorry, of course,” she said, apologetically, pulling another cigarette from the pack. “You’re not going to call the police?” she enquired, exaggerating puppy-dog-eyes. “I’ve just come from a sales ...
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