Koa
There's an art to life's distractions
He might have felt shame at her not-fully-expressed threat, had his mind not been entirely preoccupied by the rising wave of pleasure and want that drowns out all coherent thought. Gone is the bitter memory of past indiscretions, gone is the heartache of a young man scorned. There is only her, only them, the rapturous drumbeat of their eager young hearts pounding a beat for their bodies to follow.
The breathless words add another level of aphrodisiacs to Koa's already muddled brain, stoking the fire of his impending orgasm. "Fuck, Flora, I wanna make you cum," he groans in response, his grip on her hip tightening as he continues to bask in her body. Slow, firm thrusts punctuate his desire, all control slipping away. "You feel so good, I need you to cum for me, need to feel it--"
His body shudders; the end is near. La petit mort rises and the boy cannot stop it, cannot prevent that glorious surge of hormone and release as he sits on a knife's edge. "Cum with me, Flora," he gasps, pleads, commands, his forehead pressed against hers, their breath intertwined. "Cum with me, I'm gonna, I can't, you're too---- fuck."
And there it is, the final threshold. Koa presses into her, needing to feel her around him as the symphony of sex strikes its final crescendo. Shaking, shuddering, melts into and against her, until all that is left is raw nerves and empty bliss and the glow of completion. With a shivering sigh he falls beside her, lips pressed panting against the sweet salty sweat of her neck. It will take him a moment to recuperate enough to ensure that she's as satisfied as he is - and silently he prays to Frey that she is, because the last thing his ego could handle would be leaving her disappointed yet again.
The breathless words add another level of aphrodisiacs to Koa's already muddled brain, stoking the fire of his impending orgasm. "Fuck, Flora, I wanna make you cum," he groans in response, his grip on her hip tightening as he continues to bask in her body. Slow, firm thrusts punctuate his desire, all control slipping away. "You feel so good, I need you to cum for me, need to feel it--"
His body shudders; the end is near. La petit mort rises and the boy cannot stop it, cannot prevent that glorious surge of hormone and release as he sits on a knife's edge. "Cum with me, Flora," he gasps, pleads, commands, his forehead pressed against hers, their breath intertwined. "Cum with me, I'm gonna, I can't, you're too---- fuck."
And there it is, the final threshold. Koa presses into her, needing to feel her around him as the symphony of sex strikes its final crescendo. Shaking, shuddering, melts into and against her, until all that is left is raw nerves and empty bliss and the glow of completion. With a shivering sigh he falls beside her, lips pressed panting against the sweet salty sweat of her neck. It will take him a moment to recuperate enough to ensure that she's as satisfied as he is - and silently he prays to Frey that she is, because the last thing his ego could handle would be leaving her disappointed yet again.
To somehow escape the burning weight, the art of scraping through
