Karrine Steffans

It was 4 in the morning, and in my sleep I could feel the wetness between my thighs.  There was a tingling inside—an urge to be filled up by him. Just when I thought I couldn't bear the urge any more, there he was, climbing on top of me, spreading my legs, entering my hot, wanting crevice. I was in heaven, experiencing orgasms at an exhausting rate, sounding off once, even twice, each minute as the pressure became nearly unbearable.

He pulled my hair and bit my neck. He was hurting me, and I loved it. His body crashed into mine, and the ramming lead to swelling and swelling led to moist, warm kisses to my pink, sensitive flesh. He sucked the milky white juice from inside me and caressed my most tender parts with his tongue. I squirmed. I shook. I came.

My eyes remained closed as he turned me over, placing several pillows under me, exposing my pudenda, leaving me vulnerable and anxious. He slipped a finger into one hole and two into the other as he licked and sucked around them. He worked his digits deep inside until they were both covered in cream. After sucking them clean, he thrust his tongue deep inside my tightest orifice. I hollered in pleasurable pain. Never had I been so satisfied.

I had to look him in the eyes and show him my contentment. I had to open my eyes and face this mad sexual deviant. I reached behind to bring him to me, to taste his kiss and the pieces of me in it. I reached behind to find him gone, to find he was never there. He had never been there. That morning I'd come to know myself as a woman, as a beast, as the greatest lover I have ever had.