Behind Closed Doors

I thought we were done for the moment.

Others had watched, she beat me, brought me to tears, held me and then began to untie me.

The audience commented how hot our scene was then left, closing the door and and leaving us alone.

We weren’t done yet though.

She kissed the remainder of my tears away, telling me how happy she was with me and then kissed me.

Hard.

She didn’t bother removing the leather ankle cuffs from me, only removing my hands so I could hold her.

I was naked already and before too long so was she, pulling off her corset and underwear then pulling me to the ground.

She reached down and slid me inside of her. A gasp escaped us both.

She rode me, I held her hips and within a minute her eyes were rolling, her back arched and every muscle in her body singing.   

What’s the opposite of sympathy pains? Sympathy pleasure? That’s what I always feel. It’s like I’m mid-orgasm with her.

I moaned and and she quickly pressed her hand over my mouth. Just a few feet away outside that door people where socializing.

I can’t remember how many orgasms she had but before too long she was satisfied and slid off of me. The ache of feeling everything perfect in the world leaving my body overcame me and I’m sure I made a moan that said “please”.

I snuck outside the door, covering my arousal as best I could, grabbed my clothes and joined her again.   

There she was, smiling with that lustful grin she gets when she’s used me.

I melted.

Not all of me, but most of me.

“Fuck”, I said with a sigh and a smile.

“Fuck indeed” she smiled.

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