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How deep is your love, part 3

To get the plot, read the previous parts :)
He untied me and turned reverse. I didn't need to be a Nostradamus to predict what was going to happen. Obviously, I was aware that day would come for us, but those weren't the circumstances I had anticipated. Every girl would dream of a few drinks for courage, long kisses for the foreplay and receiving the mindblowing oral session to finish the process of relaxation.

I laid, powerless, on the bed with the moons stuck up and legs slightly spread. I found his hand nearby my mouth waiting to be licked. I did that, but it didn't prevent me from wondering, was it possible that the porn stars never needed any lube except a spit or two? As his fingers teased my back hole with the fresh semen and saliva, I came to the conclusion it's impossible and the movies were directed.

"It's going to hurt me, you know?" I took it amiss.

"It better does," he answered and gave my ass a spank the whole hotel must have heard.

I hid my face in the pillow. He watched my bottom wobble from side to side, and when it subsided he gave me another spank. In no time my bum was covered with new and new bruises, and the phrase "Red Army" got a brand new meaning to me from that moment on. My delicate skin could break anytime from the neverstopping slaps. I gasped resentfully not even planning to pretend I enjoy something that is simply too strong.

"You're going to stand on the plane all your way back to Poland."

I sobbed in advance as the scenario was very probable. I begged for the shaft to come back to power early, so the fire can be stopped somehow. Actually, when he gave me a rest and I cooled off with the hysteria, the swollen skin fired up in the unbearable pain that urgently needed to be healed with a cream or the cold water. The clue of the evening was still in front of me - his finger finally found his way into my untouched cave and the muscles tightened around it. I was as tense as a scared, hurt person could be. I spread my legs to make some space, but the poor thighs were shaking.

"Get on your fours," he ordered.

I obediently kneeled with a pillow to support my knees and remove a height difference, while my elbows were far in the front leaned on the bed. A dick's head smearing substances at the entrance made me realize things were getting serious and had nothing to do with a little finger play, which with a bit of good will I actually learnt to find appealing.

"Last wish?" I yelped.

"Yes?"

"A kiss?"

"No."

Without an overwhelming care or attention the tool sinking in my fold ripped it in two. I screamed like wild. Okay - you want fight - you get it. I don't care if anyone hears me and comes here for the rescue. He twisted my hair around his fist and pulled me up so my back matched his chest. At the same time he held my hips so the cock wouldn't slip. Those turned out to be the few seconds I needed to adjust my body to a new object inside and I experienced a stinging, yet satisfying feeling that hmm, just stimulated my brain from the behind. His hand covered my shouting mouth. I calmed down. I had to, if I wanted to avoid more displeasure. Relax could be the only saviour. He had no regrets in poking with the supreme power, but cared to keep me close to his body at the same time. His hand dropped down, from my face toward my neck. My body shuddered as the hand tightened around my throat. I lacked air. Seeking escape only entailed the massive pain from the thrusts, so I needed to join his rhythm and pound away. I hang to his forearm, letting out the passionate moans. It felt sexy to be ruthlessly possessed in the most intimate way for all the moments of jealousy I've caused purposely or just as a sidetrack of being nice at work to men. And I found it exciting to clear all the day's bad karma. If I enjoyed it... difficult to say. It was so personal, that it stripped my soul. There was no place for acting, because the unavoided pain would expose it any second. Yet, feeling my darling's heartbeat, his shallow breath on my shoulders made me overcome the physical pain as I referred to the mental blast.

My eyes were shining at him when I turned back to suck him off till the last drop. I gave my best to force my throat to accept his shaft for the last time, against the shivers all over me and the legs that couldn't hold anymore. The seeds joyfully ran down into my stomach for waste. I longed for hugs, smiles and flirting. Stan didn't even look at me after I was done with my job. He only took his way to the bathroom. I covered myself with a quilt waiting for my turn. He showered, and, without saying a single word to me, switched the light off and fell asleep.

I was on the edge of bursting out with tears. I went for a quick shower and of course I washed my face and brushed my teeth. The cheeks were rosy and eyes constantly filled with blocked dews. I knew what I wanted. A cigarette. I've never smoked, but who cared. I put on the jeans, a loose shirt, a coat, the only flat shoes I had, and I sneaked out of the room. At the hotel lobby I ordered a pack of the perfumed fags and a matchbox I didn't even know how to use, but I knew I liked the odor. After a few failed attempts I finally succeed to light one and accept the deadly smoke to keep bothering my used throat. I coughed with fear I'd throw all the sperm up on that cherry wood table. My whole body ached, but I felt like I was hit on the face - several times. I tried to recall my previous humiliation of that sort, and I couldn't. I knew guys were obsessed about anal sex because they were assholes themselves, that's why they never had got it from me until that night. The difference between those other dudes who could hide the wedding ring but still had "I am married" written all over their faces and my darling was substantial. I wouldn't have created a character like him in any of my novels. Walking his ways, visiting me occasionally and usually in the rough manner. It was indeed inspiring for my creativity, as mental stabilization is probably the last on the list of wishes of the creative author. I inhaled the smoke. "Fuck the novels, chapters, whatever. I only want the old charmer to be back." I corrected my position on the chair. A twinge from my bum patted me on the head. "Alright, if you fight for someone, you must get hurt, I guess," I reckoned.

"Ah, this is where my gorgeous nymph went!" I heard behind my back.

The dib fell off my hand on the marble floor. I trod on it.

I smiled.
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