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internally. 
The moist muscle against the steadily growing slickness of my sex
creates a soundtrack of its own.  It should have embarrassed
me; but as his lips and tongue slide through my pussy lips and down
to the entrance of my body, I feel anything but
embarrassment. 
    I feel alive.
    For the first time in my
life, I am alive. 
    The tip of his tongue rims
the sodden entrance, his teeth tug and pull at the labia, and his
nose ̶ yes, dear
God, his nose ̶ nudges my clit. 
    My hands alternate between
gripping the sheets and reaching for his head and shoulders,
holding him against me.  Slight muffled chuckles penetrate the
haze of my pre-orgasmic bliss but I’m way too gone to give a damn
he’s laughing at me.  I’m just focused on what his mouth is
doing. 
    And then, it
comes.  I cum.  At that moment, I realize that the little bursts
of pleasure I’ve found with myself and my own hand are nothing in
comparison to the explosion that can occur with the right man. God
help me, but this man is the right man. 
    The thought and the sensation pummel me with
their power.  Like a hundred punches to my head, body and sex,
I feel as though I’m being dragged through an assault course, but
rather than feel the agony of such a beating, I feel
delirious.  My head is spinning; I’m almost light-headed, a
brink away from my eyes fluttering shut to pass out or fall asleep,
I’m not sure which. 
    And then, it’s there.  He’s
there.  His cock.  Sliding through my pussy lips, nudging
my already drunken clit and then pushing through the slight
resistance of my sex to be welcomed by tight, slick walls of
still-pulsing, post-orgasmic heat. 
    As he penetrates me, the fingers of his left
hand are tugging at my nipple, pinching it mostly.  I’d prefer
a light suckle, maybe a play of teeth and tongue, but with my dazed
gaze, I can see the level of concentration on his face. 
    At his temple, there are beads of sweat and
a pulsing vein.  His eyes are focused on the area of our
joining, something that encourages me to look as well. 
    As I do, my pussy quivers and the walls
clench down on him, gripping him within their snug clasp.  The
move has him groaning and gritting his teeth.  Spying his
size, gauging it in comparison to my relatively inexperienced sex,
his caution is appreciated. 
    In comparison to my ex’s
hotdog wiener, Zane’s cock is enormous.  The only reason I’m
not on the brink of panic is the fact that I’m far too relaxed and
sated after my orgasm.  Plus, that powerful image of the
flushed flesh of his cock, with its slight pulse as his arousal
beats him hard; against the almost raw pink of my pussy… it’s
hotter than any porn I’ve ever seen in my life.  It’s intense,
real, and as thrilling as all hell. 
    Apparently Zane is accustomed to inciting
terror into the hearts of most women.  Let them climax first
and then they won’t run away in terror at his size…  That’s
his plan of attack and I’m mighty appreciative of it.  
    All my mind and my pussy is capable
of, is feeling.  At this moment in time, as discomforting as
his size is, I’m feeling fantastic. 
    It seems to take an age for him to penetrate
me fully.  His hips rock back and forth, back and forth until
he’s all the way in.  Any bliss I felt has wavered slightly as
he butts the throat of my womb, but it still feels too damn good to
complain.  Seeming to realize my quandary of emotion and
sensation, he places his hands either side of my head and leans
over, joining our mouths together. 
    The move does two things. 
Inadvertently, it nudges him deeper until I feel as though I can
taste him at the back of my throat, but it also takes my mind off
the fact that every inch of my pussy has been claimed by
him. 
    With our mouths joined, he begins to thrust
his hips.  Slowly impaling me on his shaft and then quickly
retreating, ramming into me only to pull all the way out. 
Keeping me entirely on edge has my body leaping