No pain, all gain

His hand brushed my nipple and I jumped. It was so sensitive. "Oooh, does girl like that?" he asked, doing it again. I whined. My stomach was unhappy and there seems to be some sort of direct connection between my stomach and my nipple. Normally, yes, I would have loved it.

Now, I covered my nipple with my hand. "So sensitive, and my stomach feels icky," I explained.

"Poor baby," he said, moving his hand elsewhere, delicately stroking the skin of my throat, the upper slope of my breasts, my back. I made little breathless sounds of pleasure as he raised goosebumps all over me. "I'll leave your nipples alone - for tonight." I should hope he wouldn't leave them alone for longer.

He was holding me on his arm, my head nestled against his shoulder. My back had been turned to him but I rolled over more to give him better access to my front. My left wrist moved to find itself captured by his left hand. Oh, I love that. I twisted my wrist a little in the loose circle of his fingers.

"Should I stop this?" he asked, his fingers lightly dancing, sweeping, chasing tingles all over my body. Oh, his magic, magic fingers.

"Oh, you should," I whispered reluctantly, between my little moans of pleasure. I didn't want him to, but should was a different matter altogether.

"Why should I?" he asked, not stopping.

"Mmm, mmm.. it's late," I answered. We'd used the entire weekend up on fun activities and he had to be at work in the morning.

"Oh, is that all?"

"Uh-huh, were you expecting a different answer?"

He let his fingers drift over my throat, down my side. I was purring. "No. Just glad I didn't get a different answer."

He kept stroking me, whispering words of affection, drawing the pleasure out for an eternity. My legs spread wider and wider, but he hadn't yet touched me between them. I was humping the air by the time the side of his hand brushed against my folds. I jumped, a little shriek of delight and stimulation making its way out of my lips. "Ahh, is that sensitive like your nipple?" he asked, his fingers gently stroking my sensitive surfaces, not yet intruding.

"It is, but it doesn't make me feel sick," I answered, arching up, desperate for his fingertip to delve a little deeper.

He obliged me. "That's good. I'd hate to make you feel sick," he said, slipping his finger between my folds, running the tip around my opening, and up, up, up. He stopped just short of my clit, the little bud throbbing, begging for his attention.

I groaned deeply and tilted my hips, trying to guide his finger to that magic spot. God, how ridiculous I must look, I thought to myself, before he banished all thoughts by letting his finger glide up against my clit. I moaned deeply with pleasure and rocked my hips against his finger.

He is so good at this. I was lost. A little orgasm didn't take very long from my extreme state of arousal, but he kept going, not satisfied with the little cries and the little involuntary kicks.

"So good to fuck you. Such a good fuck hole," he murmured. I squealed. His words, so harsh, contrasting not only with the softness of his voice but with his actual actions, burrowed deep into me and chained me to him. I could feel myself grow even wetter. His fingertips gathered some of the extra moisture around my opening and spread it to my clit, where he kept his fingers moving quickly and lightly, making my body dance to his rhythm.

Another orgasm, and I writhed. Another, and my legs were spreading wide, my hips lifting as he touched me. I wasn't even sure if I was trying to move with him or get away from him. His finger never did slide inside me - just rocked against my clit as I thrashed next to him, whimpering, moaning, crying out. I could feel his hard cock pressing against my hip, but he was ignoring it in favor of tormenting me with endless pleasure. I lost count of the orgasms. My body was sweating lightly in the cool air and was arching up and down, my head lifting off the pillow and tossing itself back down again as I spasmed over and over and over, as he told me again and again to come for him.

"No," I said once, breathlessly, unable to summon the energy.

"Sure, you can come for me," he said, his finger continuing to move so lightly and so quickly. And I did. I couldn't stop myself.

"Good girl does what she's told," he murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Isn't it amazing how much pleasure you can bring a girl with one little fingertip?"

I could only pant my agreement.

When I was utterly spent, he slowly, slowly stopped, weaning my clit off the attention. I could still feel his cock pressing against my hip.

"Going to fuck you with my cock now," he said, his hand on my hip.

"Mmhmm," I agreed heartily, ready for that. So wet. He'd made me feel incredible already but I am always up for more if I'm not already asleep.

I turned to face away from him, leaned forward so my body was at an angle to his, and tossed my top leg backward over his. Such a lovely position. His cock slid inside my wetness easily, but he took his time about giving it all to me - just a little at a time, nice and slow. I was panting for it by the time our bodies were pressed together.

His finger found my clit again, something that particular position really, really has going for it. Already sensitized by the dozens of orgasms he'd just drawn from me, it didn't take long before he had me there again, at the shaking, trembling edge of the chasm. Another slow gentle nudge, a sexy word rasped out just for me, and I was tumbling over. Oh, ye gods, the pleasure. I was out of my mind with it.

Orgasms around his cock are divine - especially when I am trying to get away because he's already driven so many out of me. I was so, so sensitive, and as he gently prodded a third orgasm in this second set out of me with his finger, I writhed, squirming and kicking, trying to close my legs, to turn slightly away. I was breathless; reedy, helpless cries and pants were coming from me as I struggled to get enough oxygen to make the noises he was spurring from me. He wasn't having any of my escape. Despite his tenderness, the love burning out of him into me, he was firm. He was having what he wanted, and what he wanted was for me to come on his cock. Repeatedly.

"Oh, God, you're making me come all over your cock," I panted, realization dawning that the orgasms hadn't been convenient side effects of what he was doing.

"That's right, girl. Go on, come for me."

I did. I came, the most powerful orgasm yet washing over me, making me cry out. My legs shook from the sheer intensity of it - I could feel my lips start to go numb. As I writhed and shook, I could feel him throbbing within me, his own climax brought about by either my screams, my shaking, or the involuntary pulsing of my muscles around him.

We lay connected like that, our hands slowly stroking each other as his cock softened inside me. My screams and gasps for air had dried my throat out something terrible, though, and eventually I stirred to ask for water. He came back with it and let me drink before getting back in bed.

"I like the power I have over you," he whispered as he gathered me into his arms.

"I do, too," I answered softly.