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Sometimes I wish She would not surface. I long to control Her, to be able to keep the cork firmly in its bottle despite the dark pressure, and only release my dirty genie when, and if, it suits me. Just once, it would give me immense satisfaction to have the strength to make Her stay inside when it mattered. No intrusion. No rabid hunger. To enjoy moments of intense highs at my own pace. Moments like this one, my back shoved unceremoniously against the wall, eyes to the heavens while irrepressible staccato gasps are forced from my slack jaws with every sharp thrust. The wall clock above my head rebounds obediently in time to our actions and I swear even Kurt Cobain and the Red Hot Chili Peppers are judging me from nearby posters. Not that I’m able to reflect upon how far I’ve fallen, from innocent to insatiable within such a short period. His hands support my weight, clutching my bottom beneath the hiked pleated skirt, panties long since torn from me and flung across the room that we’d burst inside, twirling and kissing, hands roaming impatiently across clothes, seeking skin before crashing çankaya escort against the far wall, the giggling subsiding as tongues set up a furious dance. Dull thumps from the music emanate through the floor, each beat a reminder that we’re on borrowed time. Any of the other partygoers might throw open the bedroom door at any moment and catch us in the spilled light, nowhere to hide. What would they think of me? Would they laugh? Utter an apology and leave? Stay and watch? I shiver. Exposure suddenly feels risky. Dangerous. Yet utterly thrilling. She stirs and my legs wrap his torso, his belt buckle cold against my thigh. The shift of weight permits him to more easily bury his face in my neck. Light stubble first scuffs then scratches my tender flesh, his patchouli and cinnamon scent drifts between us, mixing with faint traces of wine and the distinct overtones of jasmine from my fiery sex. I’m overcome with the raw energy between us. Never been more ready and willing to accept what he has to offer, despite the risqué circumstances. keçiören escort Barely ten minutes earlier we’d been holding hands downstairs, enjoying the company of our friends, laughter gradually turning raucous as the alcohol flowed. Now I’m struggling to keep quiet out of necessity, low mewls spilling into the dim room past a hastily bitten lip. I want to cry out in ecstasy, to scream the fucking place down. Instead, my hands clutch the back of his head, spurring him on even though he needs no urging to continue slamming inside my drooling, velvety tunnel. Every time he buries his cock to the hilt inside me I shudder. This is what it feels like to be alive. To be impulsive. Reckless. Indecent. Hormones effervesce through my bloodstream, swelling my heart, making it race as we selfishly take what we need from one another without regard for the unfamiliar surroundings. Hot and hard, I start bouncing, using the wall as leverage to grind myself to meet his upstroke, our pubic bones colliding and crushing my exposed clit between etimesgut escort us. God, I love it. The clicking wetness is audible over the muffled opening bars of Bust A Move a floor below us, our own rhythm syncopated with that of Young MC in his prime. Nothing can beat this. No music, no food can top the binding togetherness laced with the thrill of potential discovery. The electric storm that whips between the two of us shoots lightning along my pussy walls and up to connect the swollen nubs at the apex of my breasts, straining beneath the thin turquoise fabric of my blouse. Responding to their call, I release his head and cup each mound, first squeezing the flesh before tweaking my hard nipples. Lust-filled messages consume my neural cortex and I can no longer contain my voice, panting and groaning his name as fire rages within me. His fingers dig into my ample bottom, the ramrod that pierces my soft folds takes on a ferocious pace and I start to lose control. I sense Her welling from the pit of my stomach, the ethereal need unfurling like a pirate’s flag, poisoning me with inky desire. I fight back, desperate to retain power as the thirst threatens to devour me from the inside. Although I know the result will be electrifying, it’s the last thing I want when I’m this close to coming. Losing grip every second signifies failure on some level, my conscience tumbling away despite the mental gymnastics as She emerges.
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