Flying High Again
Smoking weed has the most delightful effect on M- it makes her really horny and really passive.
“Just do what you want with me,” she said.
As I kissed and rubbed my way down her back to her juicy, sweet ass, a deliciously obscene aroma whispered to me that this was going to be a night to remember.
It didn’t take more than that for me to have her ass in the air and my face buried between her delightfully sweaty and ripe cheeks. I really indulged, pulling her big, round globes apart and pressing my nose right up to her fragrant brown flower. I sniffed, I tongued, I wiped her moist crack-essence all over my face. M was just drifting along in her hazy little dream world and I was in heaven.
After gorging myself on ass, I needed relief. I turned M over on her side and slipped into her pussy from behind. She was a thrilling combination of semi-conscious and soaking wet. I worked in and out slowly, lingering, greedily taking the time to savor every inch and second of repeated penetration. Weed is like an industrial strength dose of Lastalnite for me, so it felt like I was pushing in and out of her, feeling her get wetter and more open with each thrust, forever. The sheer length of it began to take on a wonderfully vulgar quality.
Gradually, M began to “come to.” Magnificent little slut that she is, her first instinct was to take my hand and place it on her throat. I began to squeeze and she let out a little whimper, fucking back against me hard. I gripped down harder and started to really pound away at her. I felt complete surrender from her. I could read her thoughts- “Split me in half.” “Squeeze the life out of me.” “I don’t care. Use me. Abuse me.”
Now, I’ve strangled M plenty of times before, and given her some monstrous power fuckings, but I don’t remember ever going this hard before. I wasn’t sure if she’d be able to handle it and I didn’t really care. It’s an amazing rush to turn off your rational brain and just surrender to your body’s desire for what feels good in that moment, without a second’s consideration for the consequences. Even if it had been too much for her, she’d have had no way of letting me know with my vice grip cutting off her air. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, some semblance of coherent thought was dwelling on what a bad idea this was, both of our judgments as severely impaired as they were, but, honestly, that just made it that much hotter for me. The recklessness, the abandon, it’s like a drug in its own right.
“Yeah, you like that? You like being a fuck doll just for my pleasure? You like me pounding away at you with the stink of your ass all over my face? I can still taste your ass on my lips, you dirty slut. Can you smell it?” The only response I got was a tiny, wet gasp. I absolutely flooded her. I thought come was going to leak out her nose.
“Good girl,” I told her, stroking her hair as she began to drift off for good.
I could still smell her on me when I woke up the next morning. We don’t like to talk about it the next day, but I know she knew exactly what I was thinking whenever my gaze would linger a little too long on her turtleneck over brunch. Making a girl blush in front of her Mother is a sweet delight all its own.
“Just do what you want with me,” she said.
As I kissed and rubbed my way down her back to her juicy, sweet ass, a deliciously obscene aroma whispered to me that this was going to be a night to remember.
It didn’t take more than that for me to have her ass in the air and my face buried between her delightfully sweaty and ripe cheeks. I really indulged, pulling her big, round globes apart and pressing my nose right up to her fragrant brown flower. I sniffed, I tongued, I wiped her moist crack-essence all over my face. M was just drifting along in her hazy little dream world and I was in heaven.
After gorging myself on ass, I needed relief. I turned M over on her side and slipped into her pussy from behind. She was a thrilling combination of semi-conscious and soaking wet. I worked in and out slowly, lingering, greedily taking the time to savor every inch and second of repeated penetration. Weed is like an industrial strength dose of Lastalnite for me, so it felt like I was pushing in and out of her, feeling her get wetter and more open with each thrust, forever. The sheer length of it began to take on a wonderfully vulgar quality.
Gradually, M began to “come to.” Magnificent little slut that she is, her first instinct was to take my hand and place it on her throat. I began to squeeze and she let out a little whimper, fucking back against me hard. I gripped down harder and started to really pound away at her. I felt complete surrender from her. I could read her thoughts- “Split me in half.” “Squeeze the life out of me.” “I don’t care. Use me. Abuse me.”
Now, I’ve strangled M plenty of times before, and given her some monstrous power fuckings, but I don’t remember ever going this hard before. I wasn’t sure if she’d be able to handle it and I didn’t really care. It’s an amazing rush to turn off your rational brain and just surrender to your body’s desire for what feels good in that moment, without a second’s consideration for the consequences. Even if it had been too much for her, she’d have had no way of letting me know with my vice grip cutting off her air. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, some semblance of coherent thought was dwelling on what a bad idea this was, both of our judgments as severely impaired as they were, but, honestly, that just made it that much hotter for me. The recklessness, the abandon, it’s like a drug in its own right.
“Yeah, you like that? You like being a fuck doll just for my pleasure? You like me pounding away at you with the stink of your ass all over my face? I can still taste your ass on my lips, you dirty slut. Can you smell it?” The only response I got was a tiny, wet gasp. I absolutely flooded her. I thought come was going to leak out her nose.
“Good girl,” I told her, stroking her hair as she began to drift off for good.
I could still smell her on me when I woke up the next morning. We don’t like to talk about it the next day, but I know she knew exactly what I was thinking whenever my gaze would linger a little too long on her turtleneck over brunch. Making a girl blush in front of her Mother is a sweet delight all its own.