Hamilton growls as Burr targets the gland, at the action and the image both.
"Oh?" and his tone is dangerous. "What makes you think I wouldn't be last? After your exhaustion, your body open and weeping, seed spilling down your legs and dripping from you -- what makes you think I wouldn't take you as you fight to keep your eyes open, as you cry with exhaustion from pleasure and pain both -- would you still beg for me? I think you would. I think the army wouldn't be enough for you, not without me."
He draws his thumb very lightly down Burr's wet folds, testing to see if he is in too much pain for stimulation there. "Your cunt overflows for me," his fingers delicate and toying, backing off if Burr tries to thrust up for greater stimulation. He gathers up that slick on his fingers, thick and wet, and goes to Burr's tighter entrance, the one that isn't still healing childbirth. Two fingers to spread that slick around, and then he breaches Burr with his thumb.
"Ah, now," he says, "perhaps I would defile what they had not. Who could blame them for preferring your cunt? It blushes so prettily when it is abused, after all -- and it welcomes cock so eagerly, and clings to it once inside. But how could I find climax once you were so stretched and loose? Unable even to hold in my knot."
He gathers more of the slick, and presses it in deep, this time with first and middle finger together, curving to seek out sensitive tissues.
"You must tell me if this hurts unduly," Hamilton insists. "Truly. For I know you'd like to ride my tongue, now that your belly isn't in the way, and we'll have plenty of chances to defile you."
But his fingers communicate his longing -- he plays with the clenched ring of muscle, and works at stretching this tight place in Burr's body. Hitching in further -- it has been weeks since Hamilton has penetrated Burr, and his oak-root has taken great interest in the proceedings.
no subject
"Oh?" and his tone is dangerous. "What makes you think I wouldn't be last? After your exhaustion, your body open and weeping, seed spilling down your legs and dripping from you -- what makes you think I wouldn't take you as you fight to keep your eyes open, as you cry with exhaustion from pleasure and pain both -- would you still beg for me? I think you would. I think the army wouldn't be enough for you, not without me."
He draws his thumb very lightly down Burr's wet folds, testing to see if he is in too much pain for stimulation there. "Your cunt overflows for me," his fingers delicate and toying, backing off if Burr tries to thrust up for greater stimulation. He gathers up that slick on his fingers, thick and wet, and goes to Burr's tighter entrance, the one that isn't still healing childbirth. Two fingers to spread that slick around, and then he breaches Burr with his thumb.
"Ah, now," he says, "perhaps I would defile what they had not. Who could blame them for preferring your cunt? It blushes so prettily when it is abused, after all -- and it welcomes cock so eagerly, and clings to it once inside. But how could I find climax once you were so stretched and loose? Unable even to hold in my knot."
He gathers more of the slick, and presses it in deep, this time with first and middle finger together, curving to seek out sensitive tissues.
"You must tell me if this hurts unduly," Hamilton insists. "Truly. For I know you'd like to ride my tongue, now that your belly isn't in the way, and we'll have plenty of chances to defile you."
But his fingers communicate his longing -- he plays with the clenched ring of muscle, and works at stretching this tight place in Burr's body. Hitching in further -- it has been weeks since Hamilton has penetrated Burr, and his oak-root has taken great interest in the proceedings.