When it was over, I lowered her down so she could rest her shoulders. She lay there, sweaty and beautiful, her legs sprawled on mine, her pussy wantonly exposed only a few inches from my straining cock.
She opened her eyes. “I’m weak. I’ve never been weak from sex before.”
“You liked that, huh?”
“Yeah,” she giggled. “I didn’t know Dr. Croswell was a sex therapist.”
“I’m not. I just enjoy making a beautiful woman cum.”
“Well, that’s good,” she laughed. Then she looked at us. Her line of sight was over her still-hard nipples, down her trim belly, through her damp honey curls, to my cock. “I’ve never used these words, Don, but I want you to fuck me again and fill my pussy with cum.”
I helped her push some pillows under her shoulders to raise her, and then lifted her ass onto my thighs again.
“Oh, Don,” Sarah breathed as pushed into her.
I leaned down and kissed her. “Watch,” I said.
I straightened up and eased out, until only my crown was still inside her. Her moisture glistened on my shaft. I pushed back inside, and we watched her swollen outer labia pucker around me. I pulled back, and her lips followed, trying to keep me in place.
“You’re hitting me in just the right spot.”
“Good. You can watch me do this, too,” I said, playing with the tender skin around her clit.
She whimpered.
“And this.” I bent down and took one of her nipples into my mouth.
“Go faster,” she whispered.
I straightened up again and began to stroke her purposefully, deep, not hard enough for skin to slap, but hard enough to let her know she was getting fucked. Her breasts moved beautifully until she grabbed her own nipples.
“I want you to cum inside me.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“Pretty soon.”
“I want to watch you,” Sarah said. “I want to feel it inside me and watch you while you do it.”
I thrust one last time. Then my rhythm was done. Twitching, spasming, grunting, I emptied myself into her. With each spurt, her pussy tightened on me, milking my orgasm for her own.
She smiled weakly up at me. She was drenched in sweat, her hair was matted and tangled, and my semen was leaking out of her.
I lay down next to her, and she cuddled against me. “So that’s what it’s supposed to feel like? Every time?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Every time should be good. I can’t imagine it being much better than that,” I panted.
We lay there for a while, the soft hush of the ventilation system now louder than our relaxed breathing. The curve of her ass felt good in my hand, the skin soft to my touch.
“Don?” she murmured.
“Hmm?”
“Am I a bad person?”
Shit! Exactly what I was afraid of. “No, Sarah. You’re not.”
“I didn’t think so. That was too good to have been bad. I guess it was wrong, but I can deal with that. If things were different in my life, I would like to feel like this a lot more.”
“People can change, babe.”
“Yes, they can. I want you to change me some more.”
“What about guilt?”
“Screw guilt. This is the right thing for me, for me as a woman,” she said, burrowing her head into my shoulder again. “When you leave, I’ll have some great memories.”
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