He Makes Me A Woman

He makes me a woman.

"Daddy," I whimper, biting at the gag in my mouth and moaning out through it, "Oh Daddy."

My head lolls from side to side, not so much animated by my muscles but rather lost on the wave of him fucking me again and again. I'm just pushed by it, like a boat bobbing on the waves of the tide and just going with the flow, drifting aimless and senseless as the rhythm of his hips determined the rhythm of my body.

Between my legs he buries more of himself in me, and I revel at the curious sensation.

I don't know if I could ever have anticipated what it felt like to get fucked. As a man I had all of these ideas, but the truth is that nothing I thought and nothing I believed could ever really prepare me for it.

Because there is nothing like it. It's not like getting filled up and it's not like fucking with a cock. It's like the inside of me is filled with this potent heat and that pulses out in waves through me. It's like I can feel him, hard and long and thick inside of me, but I can also feel myself.

A sheath of sensitive nerves exploding like fireworks that twist and wriggle through me. That bubble and crackle beneath the surface of my skin and also make my muscles flex and shudder involuntarily. That make me pull my arms so that the silk bonds on my wrists cut into the skin and make me tense my ankles **** to break free so that I can wrap my legs around him.

Because my whole world feels like it's going to fucking explode and when it does I know he won't be able to hold on much longer. When I tighten, screaming out my pleasure and squeezing the life out of the cock between my legs, I know he won't be able to resist. I know that his climax will follow mine and I want it in me. I want the heat of his seed to be buried deep in my belly and I want him to cum, pumping me full of his satisfaction and building on the heat of my own body with the heat of his.

I want to feel him drain every last drop inside of me. I want to take it all.

But no matter how much I strain and fight the bonds stay tight and secure. Nothing breaking and nothing even bending as I futilely fight against them and there is a chuckle but it's not from him, it's from Rachel.

"Such a pretty baby," she teases me, "So needy. So eager. No wonder he couldn't resist you. And now Daddy got to have his pure and viriginal girl and she got to have him and it's good, isn't it baby girl? It's so fucking good."

I moan and I flex and I beg and I plead and I feel him pumping, feel him pushing into me. I feel the heat rushing within me and something complicated happens that I don't quite understand.

It feels good, but it feels impossible all at the same time.

He's still not fully in me. He's touching somewhere deep within me with the length of his cock but he's got more to go and yet I can barely even believe that I've taken this much of it and I can't make sense of anything so why could I make sense of this.

Except to know that I would know what it feels like when he bottoms out in me. I would know it and I would understand it, the press of his body against mine and his hips against my sex and the lack of any gap between us. When I can take every last inch of him. When I have taken every last inch of him.

This isn't that.

"Oh god baby," Rachel coos, "You're doing so fucking good baby. You're taking so much and he's loving it too. Such a good girl. Such a good girl for Daddy."

For Daddy. For Lucas. For the cock between my legs that pushes rigid and unyielding into me. For the little brush at the base of it.

For the sensation that feels distinctly like fingers brushing against my sex.

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