The sisters grow closer - much closer.
There's something that's deviant about that fantasy. I don't want to fall pregnant (yet). But the image of his sperm splattering all over me, deep inside me, filling me up is one of the most arousing fantasies I've ever had.
Matt's cock parting me was an amazing feeling. Of course I'd felt it many times before with other men. But this time it was a ginger feeling, so soft, so careful, and so tender. I felt his head sink inside me first. I heard myself moan a little, and I closed my eyes. He kissed me. I imagined his cock straining back as he sunk all of himself into me. It was slightly uncomfortable, just a little niggle as I adjusted to him. The walls of my vagina were wrapped around his cock like a glove. I squeezed down on him mentally. I wanted to feel every vein on his tool, every movement he made. He was burning hot.
He held me as we did it. He stroked my hair, and we never stopped embracing, kissing. When we couldn't kiss because it felt too good we just rubbed our heads against each other. He went slowly, like I had suggested. Matt's definitely bigger than average, as I've mentioned before, but not by much. He's bigger than, say, about ninety-five percent of the guys I've had sex with before. Only one guy has been longer than him. But that's only on paper. The feeling a man generates is so much more important, for me at least. Matt, for all I knew, was King Kong, with a schlong long enough to hang over his shoulder. As he retracted and inserted himself in and out of me, over and over again, I could feel my labia hanging on to him for dear life.
At first they were slow strokes. They built up the anticipation of what was to come. It was tantalizing, almost. Our bodies once stuck to each other, but under the covers we were too hot, and we were both totally coated with sweat, Matt, with his slightly hairy chest, more than me. My nipples were stone hard. He never focused on them. He was too tied up in other parts of my body, but their edges scraped up against his chest just enough to really set me off when the time came.
But that time was still far away. Matt increased the tempo. We could start to hear his body slap up against mine. He grunted some times. My pussy was being worked to over time after a long enough break. If you read last week's entry you'll recall how I tend to fall into a trance during sex where all I can focus on is the feeling of pleasure I'm getting. That's why I'm not good for talking during sex. But sometimes I break out and I can hear myself and I become aware of things around me, if only for a couple of seconds. That happened with Matt in me, too, and all of a sudden it struck me that I was moaning. I didn't even know that it was coming out of me, but I was moaning beneath him, and pretty passionately. He shut me up by kissing me. And all of a sudden he started going for it. He rammed his rock-hard rod in and out of my snatch, my tender little pussy, so innocent (once upon a time).
I was starting to feel it build up, and I could tell that he was feeling it too. But I knew that he would let himself orgasm before I did. I felt him spread my legs; suddenly both my legs were completely out of the way, pushed apart to either side of my crotch, and he was slamming into me like a jackhammer. His head was resting on my chest, on my breasts beneath the covers, and it was slipping about due to the sweatiness. I was crying out.
And then he eased up again, moved closer into me, carried on the pace but went more gently, and I sunk my hands into his hair and kissed him as much as I could. I couldn't get enough. Soon he was back to ramming me. I struggled to keep my eyes open as he looked into me. He gripped my hips and we bucked against each other.
I was getting closer, like a ticking timebomb.