Chapter 396: The table 8

It was louder than any sound she had made yet.

Her head snapped up.

Her eyes went wide, her pupils blown, and her mouth fell open, and a bright thread of spit ran off her lip and dripped onto the table.

A sudden, enormous fullness filled her from the inside, stretching and hot, so thick and so deep that for a moment she could not tell where she ended and he began.

Every nerve she owned went white.

Her fingers dug into the table. Her toes curled in her stockings.

The stretch burned and eased at once, oil making the slide smooth while her body clenched hard around the intrusion.

And Lor, half buried in her, gasped through his teeth.

She was tight.

She was tighter than anything he had ever felt, hot and slick and gripping, and each pulse of her clenched around him so hard that his vision whitened at the edges.

The oil made it smooth. The tightness made it unbearable.

He had to stand perfectly still, his fingers digging into her hips, shaking all over, and breathe.

The heat of her wrapped around him. He could feel the ring of muscle fluttering against the base of his cock.

"Nellie," he managed. "Nellie, are you—"

"Don’t stop," she sobbed. "Don’t worry about me. It’s so— oh, it’s so big— I can feel everything—"

He opened his eyes.

He didn’t need to see.

He pulled back a few inches and pushed in again, and she let out a high, helpless cry that she did not even try to muffle.

The wet sound of it was loud in the cabin. Her ass gripped him on the way out and yielded on the way back in.

So he fucked her.

He set a slow, hard pace at first, deep strokes that made her gasp each time he bottomed out, the head of his cock pressing deep. Then he gave up on slow.

The bench shook.

The table knocked against the wall.

The sound of his hips against her skin was sharp and wet in the little room, over and over, and under it Nellie made a steady string of noises he would remember for weeks, half-sobs, half-moans, the cracked, breathless whimper of someone who had no more words left.

He bent over her back, kissed her shoulder blade, then straightened up and took both her wrists in one hand.

He pulled her arms behind her.

She arched at once, with her chest lifted and her spine curved, and the angle drove him deeper.

She screamed.

It came out small and thin, because she’d run out of air.

Lor held her wrists against the base of her spine with one hand and wrapped the other in her loose hair, drawing her head back, and slammed into her again and again.

Her breasts bounced in the tight lace.

Her loose hair whipped across her back.

A string of drool swung from her chin and broke. Each thrust pushed a wet sound out of her. Her asshole clenched and released around him in tight, helpless pulses.

"Lor— Lor— Lor—"

"I’ve got you," he growled. "You wanted it in your ass all morning, so take all of it."

"Yes— yes— fuck my ass— give it to me—"

Heat was gathering at the base of his spine, and he knew it.

He wasn’t ready for it.

He had wanted to try more, to turn her, to take her slowly on the bench and then fast against the wall, to see her face while he did it.

He had meant to make this last.

But she was so tight, and so hot, and so loud, and she was pushing back into him with all the strength her legs had left, and he could not slow down.

It was already the best thing he had ever felt. The slick heat of her gripped him on every stroke. Sweat gathered between their bodies.

The smell of oil and sex filled the cabin.

So he stopped trying.

He let go of her hair, caught her hip, and drove into her faster and deeper, harder with each stroke, grinding at the bottom of it until she screamed his name into the empty room.

Her thighs shook. Wetness from her pussy ran down the inside of her thigh and over the top of her stocking.

"I’m going to come," he said, and it came out as a groan. "Nellie—"

"Do it—," she begged.

He slammed into her one last time and buried himself to the root.

He came with a sound that tore out of his chest.

It hit in long, hot pulses, one after another, deep in her ass, and he held her hips against him and shook with it, emptying himself into her until his knees threatened to give way.

Nellie felt every one.

She felt the heat of it spread inside her, thick and flooding, and the feeling of being filled to the brim sent her over the edge a second time.

Her back arched. Her body locked.

She came with a long, wrecked cry, clenching around him in rhythmic waves that milked him of everything he had left. Her asshole pulsed tight around the base of his cock.

Then her legs gave out.

She folded forward and slumped across the table with her cheek against the wood, arms limp, trembling.

Lor held on a moment longer, breathless, and then he drew out of her slowly, carefully.

She whimpered at the loss.

A thin trickle of cum followed him out and ran down between her cheeks.

He took a step back, his legs unsteady, and dropped onto the bench behind him.

For a long time the room was quiet.

There was only the soft rush of two people trying to breathe, the faint tick of the paper lamp, and the muffled clatter of a kitchen somewhere far away.

Lor leaned his head back against the cushion and shut his eyes.

His heart was still pounding.

His legs had no strength left, and the air in the little cabin was thick and warm and smelled of sweat and oil and her.

"Nellie," he said at last. His voice came out hoarse.

"You’re amazing."