Fine Italian Wine: Chapter 01 - Sex Stories

Fine Italian Wine: Chapter 01

... Fuck me. Fuck me,” she pleaded. Her hips met his thrusts. Her cunt contracted. She wanted to surrender her being for his pleasure. The rhythmic love-dance got faster and faster. She began to hear and feel drums in the distance. The drums grew loader and closer. Beat after beat penetrated to the very essence of her soul. She felt her passion rise to a peak. She felt that she was falling in space. She was falling into a bottomless pit. Swirling… contracting… convulsing… pleasure beyond her imagination. She heard someone scream in the distance. It was an animalistic scream! It grew louder and louder. Suddenly she realized the scream was her scream - she was screaming! The pleasure was beyond her control. Suddenly James gave a great heave. She felt like she was being filled with molten lava. It spewed into her cunt and poured over the rim like a volcano. In her mind she envisioned a white hot lava spread out over the sheet. James was spent, depleted of energy. He collapsed onto her tiny body. They were perspiring and breathing heavily. He rolled over and got up and stood by the bed. Sherri looked up to see his manhood above her. “Get up!” She knew what to do. She swung her legs off of the bed and sat up. She took his war-spear and covered it with her mouth. She swallowed the sticky, slimy man-juice mixed with her own essence. She kept her eyes fixed on his face. Sherri milked his cock and squeezed the last remnants of semen from his hole. It tasted sexy and sensual. She ...

... swallowed. “Come here,” he ordered. He took her hand and led her down the stairs to the tribal regalia room. He sat her down on a log-chair. This time there was no cushion. It was hard hewn wood. He selected up a long, thin black crop which was hanging on the wall. He whipped it around, testing and flexing it. The crop, cutting the air, made a high-pitched swishing sound. He touched to crop to her leg. He tapped the inside of her leg. “Open your legs.” Sherri parted her knees until the tapping stopped. The crop tapped her butt. “Slide forward. I want your butt on only the first six inches of the chair.” Sherri slid forward, and the crop tapped her back. “Sit up straight!” Sherri straightened her back. Why am I doing this? she thought. She was afraid, sexually aroused, and humiliated. Yet she felt compelled to obey his commands. The crop touched her cheek. “Look forward. Don’t turn your head,” he ordered. The crop touched her chin. “Raise your chin. Keep your eyes forward. Don’t move them.” She raised her head until her eyes were level. She could no longer see the floor. He walked behind her. SLAP! The crop came down on the back of her chair. It missed her, but she was startled. She started to turn her head, but corrected herself. “Don’t ever turn your head! Keep looking forward.” She heard footsteps walking away. They became fainter until the sound disappeared. Suddenly there was silence. Time passed. She had no idea how long she waited. It seemed like hours. She dared not move her ...