Ginger Fox Part 4
“ What do you want, Ginger?” I close my eyes, completely losing to his stolen caresses. I don’t even know what I want or what I’m searching for, I just want to find myself. To find something screaming inside me desperately to be set free. His hand presses my breast, making me open my eyes and get sucked into the sight of Lorane’s pussy swallowing Bob’s cock. Almost crying in agony, my body, on its own, moves against Roy’s knee, rubbing my pulsating clitoris, syncing its rhythm exactly as Bob does inside Lorane. The strong hand holds my breast trapped within it, letting his free hand slide down my arm, giving the second thin strap the same fate as the other. He only strokes my skin, bringing shivers and at the same time pleasure, something I didn’t even know I had. The simple fact of his fingertip touching my elbow slowly makes me hyperventilate. His teeth scrape my ear, nibbling the tip, and the damn hand rises to my hair, massaging it slowly. It’s a point-blank shot. My hips move back and forth, like waves on the beach, feeling every pulse and molecule of my body turning into jelly.
“God…” I’m falling, my body is on the edge, waiting for the orgasm.
I’m practically fucking his knee, like an animal desperate for release. And he knows it, he feels brutal pleasure from it. Even letting me feel his hard cock poking my ass, he still wants to see me there, desperate. Bob sinks deeper into Lorane, gripping her slender neck. With each thrust, their bodies come together, the table shakes, and everything gets smaller. And my hips move, rubbing against his knee, matching the lust that Lorane receives from Bob. It’s not Bob I want fucking me, but Roy. I want to be devoured with the same hunger that Bob has for Lorane.
I feel the fall approaching. My face falls back, pressing my head into his chest. His finger crushes the rigid nipple of my breast, and through the clouds of pleasure dilating my eyes, I see him with his head down, watching me. A natural predator appreciating his prey being taken down. The current from inside me cuts through when the orgasm hits me. His rough tongue slides down my forehead, like a promiscuous caress, as intensely as his knee hits my clitoris, rubbing it hard in cruel movements. My fingers strangle the iron bar, keeping me, at least partially, from completely collapsing. When Roy lets me go, with my breath cut off and my body limp, my forehead sticks to the mirror, and I feel my heart almost coming out of my mouth. What I feel inside me is not shame or sadness, much less regret, but fear, fear of what I have just experienced. Baby was right. We all have demons, and mine must be a succubus, vibrating strongly between my entrails and ready to be set free.
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