Part Four - A Sound Fucking Commences
You've passed my test, given me a lovely collection of words, and made me laugh. You have certainly earned a sound fucking, and I have every intention of giving it to you. After one more tug of your hair, I let your face fall to the pillow.
Using my legs I push yours together, and hold them there. I know that feeling of being penetrated without the ability to spread your legs. With each thrust, your ass cheeks are purposefully pushed apart to attain my prize. That is to say, your sweet buns, sweet cakes, sweet cheeks - whatever I decide to call them today - they are mine.
Only because you allow me to have them, of course. But it's much more than simple allowing. You offer them to me, enthusiastically, willingly, and with trust. You intentionally tease me with those cheeks, too, knowing their power over me. Playful naked booty dances have ended with me grabbing you and fucking you. Ravishing has happened!
This time all you did was lay there naked. No swinging hips or dancing buns. Was it intentional or careless? It matters not.
So I contract my core and push into your ass powerfully. I gave you plenty of time to adjust. In this position, the toy I chose won't bottom out. It will thrill you. Repeatedly. With every stroke.
I wrap myself all around you, hooking my arms under your shoulders for leverage...and I fuck you. Thrusting, plunging, grinding, gliding, and sliding, in and out, in and out. Sometimes I give you a chance to catch your breath. Sometimes I don't. I deliver a sound fucking, any way I please. Because your ass is mine.
At this point I bite the back of your neck softly and decisively plumb your depths with my fat toy. Your moans punctuate each thrust satisfyingly. Those moans will help me come, I know this. So I work for those sounds, finding the particular depth, angle and rhythm that elicits your loudest cries.
I'm getting you there. The noises you make sound like torture. In a way I suppose I am torturing you; opening up places inside you that you've lost touch with, for you to rediscover. Your reunions with those lost parts are simultaneously joyous and tear-filled. Your pleasure is tinged with a poignant sadness from the realization that for so long you were disconnected. You described this to me once. I listened, filled with wonder that something as seemingly simple as a sound fucking could offer up so much to you.
The rewards I reap for my hard work are plentiful as well. Your noises? They are like poetry without words, like an auditory dessert for my ears. Yes, I do work hard. More than once an enthusiastic shag of your ass was a replacement for my trip to the gym. At those times, I relished the moment when the sweat ran down my back and your cries reached a crescendo. Better than any gym visit, certainly.
Sometimes you come home from work and ask me meaningfully, "Did you work out today...?" That's your not so subtle way of asking to be ravished. Surprisingly, most of the time it works.
