This Isnt Love Its Rape And I'm Not Even Sure...

His right-hand gripped and clung to the rail, his left supporting her waist, his bladder now empty, he slid his tool from her body, releasing the pressure allowing her belly to empty like a released balloon, she groaned, and began to chew at his neck, he turned her, her back now against the cold tiled wall, his tool stiffening once more, as he replaced it into her now empty sex. He began to ride her, short hard strokes, waves began to radiate from them splashing and slopping, echoing round the empty pool-room as she began to jig with him, eyes rolling, body wrapping itself round him, trapped between this love machine and the pool side, urgent struggling jerks, as long seconds past, then together they orgasmed once again, for her, her climax if anything more gigantic than the first. She was his, this boy, this man, her man, body and soul, she was his slave, he could at that moment in time, have done any mortal thing to her body he wished, and she would have willingly given even her. “I really enjoyed that, maybe we can keep doing this way, if you don’t mind?” he asked as he got into bed.The following evening, when the night-time emission therapy session commenced, I simply assumed my position from the previous night. Without hesitation, Doogie eagerly took up station at my head.A few nights later, I played my trump card when he hinted about our next therapy session. After apologising that I had a scratchy throat, I lay on my back and lifted my legs for him. On this occasion, Doogie showed no indecision before he walked up and guided his dick into my backside. Fortunately, I was prepared and had lubed my backside in anticipation. At last, I was finally getting what I wanted all long and was also participating in the pleasure, as I tugged on my dick.The other two things that also pleased me were that Doogie had begun to take his time before unloading, unlike our initial ‘therapy’ sessions. Added to that, the way he looked at me had also begun to display a definite.
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