Erotophonophilia

His touch is rough. Not his skin, his actual handling of my body is wild and surly. He scoops up my naked frame and heaves me over his shoulder. As he carries me down the hall, his shoulder digs into my abdomen and I balance myself by resting my hands on his lower back, checking out his firm ass during the trek.

I fall back onto his soft, opulent bed. The comforter is stark white, matching the walls, plush carpeting, and painted deco furniture. It smells of soap and mint, drastically different from his spicy musk but consistent with the off season mint julep he ordered at the bar.

He looks down at me from the end of the bed, fully erect and smiling. His body is flawless. Absent of ink but also of scars and blemishes, he looks completely symmetrical from head to ball sack. His hands grab my corresponding ankles and pull me closer to him, the soft, bleached fabric crumpling under me.

Using his fingers at the base of his dick, he repeatedly bonks my clit with the underside of his shaft, sending little bounces of pleasure through me. Without bending down closer, he spits on my pussy and spreads the lubricant with his penis head. At the edge of the mattress, I lift my hips towards him suggestively, biting down on my lower lip while throwing him my best fuck-me-now eyes.

He shoves his cock inside me hard and immediately pounds into me, each time faster and with more of a punch. A scream, not a moan, bursts from me. Every penetration feels both unbelievable good and painful. I imagine the back wall of my cunt forming a bruise that would most likely leave me walking funny for half a week.

His pace slows. “How do you feel about,” clears his throat, “…choking?”

“Yes.”

Any hesitation on his face is wiped clean with my one-word answer. “Great. Don’t make any noise.”

His fingers wrap around my neck, close in, and stifles my airway more with each slowly passing second. He continues to fuck me hard but slower, increasing pace gradually. As I’m about to reach my threshold, he allows half breathes to slip in and out. He’s a professional.

Fingertips from one hand run down my face, forcible shutting my eyelids. The pounding becomes more rapid, almost mechanical, and my head spins, lost in a oxygen-free ocean in my mind. As I cum I feel weightless. As if his hands are the only things holding me to this earth.

His grip tightens and a loud crack shoots through the air. He cums immediately, moaning loud, and crumpling to the floor. After a few seconds, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I think so.”I leisurely stretch, evaluating my health post-coitus. “I think it was just a joint in my neck.”

“I’m glad you’re alright.I thought I broke your neck. That was the sexy thing I’ve ever felt.”

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