The Wall

She faced the strong, dark, wooden door. Her hands over her head, tied together in a red silk tie and connected carefully to the thick rope hanging from the ceiling. She looked down and saw her black leather skirt to the right of her. Her feet still in the tall red heels she'd worn for their date. Her white, button down shirt rested just above the curve of her ass, the top buttons gone, her breasts pressing to escape.

At her knee, she saw the thick pooling of his semen, left inside her just moments ago. Traced the line of it up her thigh and felt again his forceful thrusts.

As soon as they'd gotten home, he told her to place her hands over her head, had pushed her skirt to the floor and thrown it to the side. Took his time tying her wrists in place. Told her to turn around. She rarely wore panties, and he delighted in the sight of her bare ass. He knelt behind her, placing kisses on her ass, her thighs, the back of her knees, her calves, her ankles. Licked a line back up. Placed a hand on her quivering pussy, felt her desire.

As his fingers worked her open, his mouth and tongue and lips teased and tasted the tart, sweet essence of her anus. His tongue darted in and she moaned. His fingers pressed inside her pink folds, and her voice grew hungry.

He'd devoured her ass, worshipping as if she were essential to his existence. His fingers skillfully massaged her clit and herfelt her thighs shake against the sweaty locks on his head.

As she came, he stood behind her, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a jeweled butt plug. He pushed it into her wet and willing ass and then dropped the pants to his suit, revealing a thick, throbbing cock. He held it in his hands, teased her clit and aching cunt, rubbed it against her ass, reveled in her begging him for more.

Finally, he'd thrust into her, deep and hard and strong. His lips on her neck, then turning her head and kissing her lips as their bodies joined.

Both hands on her waist now, her body full with his hunger. He noticed her shoes, the arches of her feet in the heels, the sweat down her thighs, her blonde hair against his chest.

Her breasts against the door, pressing in, pain and pleasure... deep desire. She said his name again and again and again.

He bit her neck and ground his cock as deep as he could. He was moving fast, out of control, unable to stop and she could do nothing but let him.

Her body writhed and shook as he let out an angry grunt, then another, hot cum filling her and flowing over.

He'd walked away, picked up his pants, and found the bottle of bourbon at the bar.

He sat on the stool and watched as she stood, shaking, freshly fucked and warm with orgasmic bliss.

His cock grew hard again, and he took off all his clothes, walked to her and turned her to face him.

Their lips met and his hands gripped her ass, pulling her to him, letting her know his desire was insatiable.

He pushed her to the door, her back against the wood, and lifted her right leg. His cock now against her, inside her, he held her close. Told her she was his, told her he was hers. Held her still and close, absorbing her scent, her head on his shoulder.

Slowly, softly, he began to fuck her again. Opening hot flesh, kissing soft skin.

Off and on all night. She'd be tied like that for hours, hungry for him, waiting on him, watching him. And he had but one thing in mind: their ultimate pleasure.