Resenhas - Dissent

flaflozano 11/01/2019

A little taste
Isaiah led me silently away, his hand going to my lower back again as he steered me toward the back of the house and up the stairs. "What are you..." "Shh," he said, looking back over his shoulder to where my mother walked into the kitchen to yell at the caterers. At the top of the stairs, he opened a door, and pushed me into a bathroom, locking it behind him. "What are..." "Shut up," he said, grabbing my face and pushing me against the wall, his lips crushing into mine. "Isaiah," I objected quietly, "someone will hear..." "Not if you shut up," he said, his voice a harsh whisper. He grabbed me, turning me away from him and pushing my hips up against the sink cabinet. His hand grazed my thighs, pulling up my skirt and bunching it around my waist, his other hand slid between my legs, pushing my thighs open and stroking my heat over my panties. And I sank into it. Into the pleasure of his touch. Into the danger. Into the inappropriateness. Into the intoxicating taboo that was screwing around in your parent's house as an adult. His fingers pulled away, grabbing my panties and pushing them down. His eyes went up the the mirror, watching mine as he unzipped his pants and pulled a condom quickly on. The he grabbed a handful of hair at my neck, pulling backward, making me arch up, and slammed his cock deep inside me, forcing an involuntary groan out of my lips. He didn't pause. He didn't ease me into it. His eyes avoiding mine on the mirror as he slammed into me hard and fast, making me bite into my bottom lip to keep from moaning. He pushed me upward fast: with his punishing pace, with the forbidden-ness of our actions, that I felt seconds away from fracturing into a million pieces. Then he pulled suddenly out of me, making my hands slam down on the porcelain in objection. He pulled my hair back harder, bringing me up toward his ear as he watched me in the mirror. "I'm going to fuck your ass now," he growled. Mother fucker. He was right. It worked. "Okay," I said, looking into his eyes as his hand went between us, bringing his cock toward the entrance and pushing hard against it. His eyes shifted from mine in the mirror as he released my hair, one hand clamping hard over my mouth, the other grabbing my neck. There was a long pause, his face impassive. Then he pushed fully into me. I gasped against his palm, the sensation somewhere between discomfort and outright pain as he buried all the way inside me in one thrust. He waited a second, his hips still, his cock un-moving inside me, giving me a moment to adjust, to get over the shock. It wasn't the first time. I had tried it once before, finding it uncomfortable and awkward. But this felt different. This felt racy and hot and the right kind of perverted and all I wanted was to see what else he had in store for me. I rocked my hips slightly back against him and his eyes got smaller in the mirror. He leaned slightly forward, putting his face next to my ear, as his hands pressed harder against my mouth and throat. Then he started thrusting into me, fast and needy, the feeling foreign but good at the same time and I found myself whimpering against his palm. "What would your parents think if they knew I was up here fucking you up your ass, you little slut?" he asked, slamming harder into me, losing what little self-control he had had to begin with. "You like it like this, don't you?" he asked, thrusting into me so hard he kept pushing me onto my tiptoes with each slam forward. My hands moved to the sides of the sink, holding on for dear life as I watched his face in the mirror and nodded. Yes. A million times yes. I liked him whatever way I could get him. He offered me a victorious smile, his hand pressing into my throat and cutting off my air supply. "You're going to come," he told me, smiling at the choking sound I made at not being able to breathe. And then he was right. I just... shattered. The sensation familiar yet not, my pussy pulsating though the pleasure wasn't coming from there. His hand pressed harder as I struggled to draw a breath as the waves kept crashing and crashing. He lessened his grip, grabbing my hips, then slamming into me insanely hard until he came, a silent catch of breath the only indication of his release.