Sex with D

He pins me down in bed. His heavy arms holding my shoulders flat against the mattress.
Exuberantly, he kisses me, his lips tight, his body pressing hard against my legs.
"You little slut, you like that don't you," he says as he pushes himself against my legs, his cock growing hard and thick from the friction.

"You like that don't you," he hisses as he holds me down, his legs pushing my legs open, his cock stabbing hard against my lips, seeking entry.

And then there's the moment I sigh and open for him, my body wetting itself, moistening, even with the absence of real foreplay.

I am so conditioned to want him, to feel his cock inside me thrusting hard against my g-spot, buried so deep his balls slap against my legs that I open almost instantly, wet enough and soft enough for him to drive his cock right in.

And then there's the moment when he's holding me down, my legs spread wide, wide open, almost over my head, to give him fullest access and the motions of that hard stabbing cock, that electric energy between us make me want to scream, it's so good, so exciting I get chills as I write this.

"Turn over," he'll say after a while, and flip me onto my front, my ass in the air, so he can pound me doggy-style, his cock driving into me as my pussy squeezes him tight, a wet, hungry red glove, clenching over and over till all he can do is explode, crying as he squirts cum into me again and again, the force of his orgasm clearly taking him out of himself over and over in a series of small, vibrant moments, a passion for my body that never slackens, never abates, never ends.