Nightstorm

He's heavy within you, thrusting keenly, fingers clenched tight on your butt, your thighs rested over his forearms as he rails into you hard. Your kisses are all smoky honey, tongues twirling, breath hitching, spread wide at the mercy of each urgent shunt of his body into yours.

"Yeah. look at you take that big cock, darlin'," he pants, mouth moving to your neck, teeth nipping, tongue swiping, your hands gripping his thick shoulders. "Fuck, you feel good."

The heat scorches through you, right to your very marrow, fire chasing frost over your nerve endings, biting your lip as you moan softly, a little smirk of amusement tilting your mouth. “Please, remind me again why we’re having sex against a tree?”

He rumbles a chuckle, turning his head to look you square in the eye. "You know why, babe. You don't get to sit behind me for five miles talking dirty without me pulling over to show you just what that shit does to me."

Hypnosis via the act of getting dicked down.

Dicknosis?

Whatever humorous term you choose to coin it, it doesn't matter. Until you met Happy, you never thought you'd meet a man who'd ever possibly give it so good, he'd render you an utter mindless mess of a woman.

Yeah. Enter Happy Lowman.

He has you lying flat against the bed on your front, one hand clutched at the back of your neck, the other pattering along each column of your spine, fingertips gliding a path of tingles, reading the goose pimple-flecked skin like braille, the message clear. With each slow drag of his cock through your hot, saturated walls, he has you lost to the realms of nirvana, sailing through the constellations that burst behind your closed eyelids, your moans helpless, breathless little exclamations of a woman far gone from anything that isn't him.

“Does that feel good? It’d be a shame if I suddenly stopped.” 

Oh, but he's mean with his tease.

"Don't," you begin, a harder thrust shunting your body, Happy slowly retreating once more, teasing your opening with the fullness of his girthy cock, letting it almost slip out, just about keeping you parted. "Please don't stop, Hap. I... I can't... no... please... just..."

“Lie back and let me lick this pretty little pussy until you can’t feel your legs any longer.”

You're not one for taking orders, but the above types are, without a doubt, always obeyed instantly.

You lie spread for him, Angel settled flat before the altar of your body, soft kisses teasing little quakes to ripple your inner thighs, the scent of you catching his nose, his hunger dictating he shan't tease you. He needs this just as much as you, bringing his mouth to your folds, the tip of his tongue wetting a soft lick to taste you, murmuring contentedly.

The next lick parts your petals, a drag of hot velvet laving at you, exploring slowly, nudging your opening until silky wet bathes the tip of his tongue, swirling around, avoiding the epicentre of your longing just long enough to make you whine, full and needy, before those circles finally sweep warmth over your aching clit.

Sparks skitter the tighter those sweeps become, his lips wrapping your bud in a firm suck, eyes finding yours, heavy-lidded and lust blown, his hands stroking against the soft skin of your upper thighs as he groans, long licks thereafter sending fever-hot pulses through your core. You can feel the heat pulling through your veins, your breath hitching as your lungs stutter then still, his tongue beginning to flicker rapidly upon your clit, nerve endings singing a serenade of bliss as they're stroked against, Angel sucking you again before repeating it in alternating action.

Your whimpers drive him on, his mouth becoming greedier, the prickle of his beard against where you are tender adding to the thrill of it, tingling heat blooming through you in a bonfire of pleasure, swells of syrupy warmth rolling over your spine as his fingers join his mouth, pushing into the saturated clasp of your cunt and curling, your body jolting as he bestows upon it exactly what it needs.

Your back arches, your sex pressed tight against his face, his tongue wildly lashing at you as his fingers gain momentum, the tempo perfect, your little cries filling the air as it comes glimmering through you, shining like the sun upon the waves that roll through your core, pushing you to your glittering crest.

He gentles in the aftermath, your cunt throbbing with the need to be filled by him, his dark eyes fixed upon you, your chest heaving, cheeks flushed, looking more beautiful to him than he can ever remember. "How's those legs, mamas?"

"Can't feel 'em."

He chuckles, kissing his way back up your body, the thick of him spearing your slick walls. "Mission accomplished. Well, almost."

"Hey, mamas," he calls to you from the kitchen while you close the front door behind you, being handed a glass of wine as he comes to greet you. "Woah, what's with that face?"

He knows it's bad when after taking your wine with thanks, you drain the entire glass dry. "Another, please?"

He fetches the bottle, topping it up. "Bad day?"

Lifting it to your lips, you drain it again. "Very bad. Supremely bad. Another, please?"

"Baby, you might as well stick a straw in the damned bottle at this point!" His wide eyes and usual brand of humour finally make you crack, snorting with laughter, placing your glass down on the bar, taking the bottle from him and knocking it back, Angel bursting into hysterics. "Shit, that's my girl."

"I learned from the best," you wink, gulping back the remainder of the contents. "Ahhh, better now!"

"Is there anything else you need?" he asks.

Looking him up and down, you place the bottle down, hooking your finger into the waistband of his jeans, towing him towards you. “What do I need? I need you. Just you, all over me, right now.”

His grin is as wicked as the intent behind it. "Oh, you got it." Ducking down, he throws you over his shoulder, striding to the bedroom and flinging you gently onto the bed, climbing on top of you, his body bearing down upon yours.

You share kisses of hot, syrupy longing, his hands smoothing over you, yanking your dress down as you pull at his shirt, buttons flying everywhere as it shifts up a gear, his hands grasping your bra and ripping it open, mouth covering your tits in hungry kisses and hot swirls of his tongue.

"How's this for all over you?" he asks, big hands gliding your thighs, the heat of his skin perfectly contrasted by the cool metal of his rings.

"Fucking perfect, but you can do better."

He raises an eyebrow, chuckling deeply. "Oh, you know you're in the right place for that." Sinking down, he yanks your dress and undies off, hands forcing your thighs apart, his mouth covering your slit with a lustful groan, sucking at you as his tongue rubs over your clit hungrily.

The repeated arrowing of his thick cock right into your soaking centre, every inch of him in, every inch out, has you wailing with delight, unbothered entirely if anyone happens to intrude on your alfresco session, right there in the park as the sun comes up. Being that it's only 5am, you doubt many people are around, though, you and Angel not actually having made it home from a night out yet.

“Please, remind me again why we’re having sex against a tree?” you pant, your entire body sizzling right to your bones with the pleasure of being fucked up into by such a beautiful, big cock.

"Because I couldn't wait another moment longer to have those goddamned gorgeous legs wrapped around me. You knew what you were doing, wearing that dress, driving a man fuckin' out of his mind." he groans in reply, hips driving against you like a piston, your back becoming grated upon the rough bark of the tree. Is the trade worthy?