Amber, on the table, with the cock.

You embrace her fiercely, hoping your arms will be able to say what you can’t find words to say. Amber holds you tight, and you think she seems to understand. You stand there together for long moments; then you draw back and kiss her. She looks at you and says, “Make love to me, Rob—right here in the kitchen. Please.”

“How sturdy is your table?” you ask.

“It’s built to survive college students,” she says dryly. “It’s not pretty, it’s scuffed, but it could probably stand up to someone doing jumping jacks on it.” She pauses a moment in mock consideration, then adds with a grin, “It probably has.”

“Grab a dishtowel,” you tell her. She does, and you spread it on the table. Then you say, “Lie down on your back.” She eagerly complies, shimmying out of her jean skirt and pulling her shirt the rest of the way off as she goes. You walk over to the table to see her spread out across it, completely naked, completely glorious. You grab her hips, and pull her toward you until her ass is right at the edge of the table, then lift her legs and put them over your shoulders.

You look down at her, her full breasts splayed off the sides of her ribcage, her pussy spread and ready for you, and a look of mingled lust and love on her face. The table is just the right height; you line up your cock, and push the head just inside the open gates of her welcoming cunt. She looks up at you and says, “Come on, lover. Fuck me silly with that big fucking pussy rocket. Fuck me ‘til my ears ring.”

You’re not sure where she came up with that line, but it sounds like it’s time for blastoff. You drive forward, punching your driveshaft deep in Amber’s hot, tight box. She gasps and tries to buck her hips, but in the position she’s in, you have her pinned to the table; all she manages to do is squeeze your prick in some new and interesting ways. “So deep,” she moans. “Ohh, baby, you’re so fucking deep . . . ohhh-ooooh, I love your big fucking cock fucking me so deep . . .”

You grip her hips and start thrusting—long, steady strokes at a moderate tempo. Amber immediately starts urging you, “Harder, baby, harder . . . give it to me harder . . . big thick fuckpole . . . hammer my pussy . . . tight little college-girl pussy . . . fucked by a real man . . .” You comply and pick up the pace until not only the table but the floor is creaking, and Amber’s twin peaks are bouncing and flopping wildly. You shift your grip from her hips to her nips—well, her tits, but you grab them firmly in a way that lets you pinch and twist their eager summits. She moans louder as you maul her boobs. “That’s it, lover . . . fuck my hungry pussy . . . squeeze my big titties . . . harder . . . take all of me . . . make me all yours, baby . . . always all yours . . . take me, Rob . . . forever . . .”

Thus encouraged, you fuck her harder, hammering her hard enough the table shifts a little. She gets louder and louder as you pound her fuckhole and squeeze her boobs; then you let go of her left tit, stick your right thumb in her twat, find her hard little button, and push. Her back arches and she screams as her climax explodes with such ****, her eyes roll back in her head. You drive all the way into her and hold as her cunt clamps down on your dick, squeezing it like a silken vise, and your answering orgasm roars into her with the **** of a freight train.

You hold yourself there as several orgasmic aftershocks tear through her body. They’re almost unbearable on your hyper-sensitized prick, but you don’t pull out because you don’t want to separate from Amber until you absolutely have to.