Emotional Maelstrom

Looking down at her hands, wisps of power seemed to exude from her flesh, like heat coming off desert sand at noon in the blazing sun, Anna shook her head and retreated to her bedroom, the want and hunger in her loins nearly unbearable. She could feel the tiny little policemen tucked in her bottom, writhing and moving heightening her arousal.

The sound of the electronic doorbell interrupted her thoughts. Removing the plush powder pink terry towel housecoat from the hook on the back of her bedroom door, she wrapped it around her nakedness, the feel of the soft fabric titillating her tactile nerve endings.

Gliding down the hall, she stopped at the front door and opened it.

Vincent Porter stood there, hands in his jeans pockets. Seeing him with her eyes, she could also sense him, his aura, energy, youthful vitality.

“Anna,” he snorted derisively, snide expression on the side of his youthful face.

A slow smile appeared on her face, “Vincent,” she replied politely.

“Caleb here?” he asked, looking passed her into the house.

Her grin widened as she shook her head in the negative.

He frowned, “Do you know where’s he’s at, he hasn’t answered any of my texts?” he inquired.

The fire in her was absolutely raging, a blast furnace of pent up want. Looking down, she put her hand on her stomach.

He snapped his fingers in front of her face, “Hey? Did you hear me?” he asked again.

Licking her lower lip, she raised her head to meet his gaze. “I heard you, I just wasn’t sure where he was, I think somewhere in my large intestine by now,” she explained.

He made a sour face, “What?”

She giggled, “He’s very close, let’s put it that way,” she said.

Vincent shook his head, “You on something?” he asked, bewildered by her odd behavior.

Reaching down, she untie the belt to her robe and allowed it to open partially exposing her nakedness, peaks of her breasts still covered but slim tummy and genitals visible.

He took a step back, eyes sweeping down, “What are you doing?” he asked.

Reaching her right hand out, she grabbed him by his letterman jacket and pulled him toward her, eyes begin to illuminate.

His words were cut off when she covered his mouth with hers, tongue snaking inside his mouth.

He started to reciprocate, reaching a hand down behind her lower back and pulling her tighter into him.

She bit his lip and pushed him back, laughing softly as she retreated a few steps into the house.

He wiped the back of his right hand across his mouth, a touch of blood. “That’s how you want to play,” he growled, smiling evilly.

She nodded slowly, face seemingly innocent, as she raised her right arm and beckoned him inward with her finger.

Like a bull in heat, he moved into the house, drawing the door closed behind him.

He was aroused, she could feel it in the air between them. Shrugging her shoulders, she allowed the robe to fall at her feet, stepping back over it as she lured him deeper into the house.

Vincent laughed throatily, eyes ravaging her exquisite body, “Caleb said you were covered in scars, but you are totally hot,” he said, sloughing off his jacket and hanging it on the peg near the door.

“Do you want me?” she purred, pressing her breasts together.

“What about your folks?” he asked, Reaching down and hastily removing his running shoes.

“I want you inside me,” she cooed. “Do you want to be inside me?” she asked.

“Fuck yeah!” he answered, nodding his head, gigantic grin.

“Tell me,” she encouraged inclining her head and looking at him through her long lashes.

“I want to be inside you so bad,” he complied, closing the distance between them and reaching toward her face with both hands.

She chuckled, placing her hand out, palm toward him. He stepped back as if physically struck, rapidly shrinking and falling back into his clothes.

Struggling with the weight of fabric over him, he pulled himself clear, standing in the neck of his own now enormous t-shirt.

She was insanely huge, looming over him. His eyes round and fearful, bewildered as he shook his head.

“Anna?” he said, raising his hands defensively as she crouched down near where he stood. “Please, what’s going on?” he pleaded.

She took him by his left arm, lifting him up off the ground and rising back to her full standing height.

“Anna!” he screamed.

She laughed, “Time for you to play,” she said, moving down the hall and into her bedroom, the ache in her loins maddening, clear trails of juice already trailing down the inside of her thighs.

Entering her bedroom, she crossed the room and hopped up on her bed, rolling onto her back, drawing her knees up and parting her legs. She was already sodden, ready.

He started to speak, but she pressed his little body indelicately against swollen sex, practically smothering him as she used her fingers to push him inside of her. He thrashed and struggled against the pull of her ravenous pussy, each movement sending a marvelous jolt of pleasure into her as her genitals swallowed him. In and out, she worked the first to digits of her right hand, juices squelching with each plunge. She could fell him on each in stroke, trapped in the tight tunnel as she began to writhe. Reaching down with her other hand, she began to caress herself, swirling fluttery fingers over the swollen center of her pleasure.

The tide of release was rising, a storm surge of epic proportions as her breath caught in her throat. The sensation was absolutely mind blowing to her, every neuron in her body firing simultaneously in euphoric delight as she climaxed, the intensity of it so strong she cried out in blissful ecstasy. One little plaything in her pussy, another in her ass, her muscles clamping down on the tiny prizes held within her, muscles crushing down on each them.

Vance was motionless, but Vincent was still trying to find some escape from the merciless grip of her vagina. She chuckled, reaching a hand down and finding a tiny arm protruding from her privates. Taking it between thumb and forefinger, she pulled, the moistened flesh releasing its pearl as he was pulled free of her body.

“Please,” he croaked, as she brought him up dangled him over her mouth. Ignoring his plea and opening wide, she drew him in with her tongue, his taste overpowered by the sweetness of her essence as she closed her lips behind him. His stamina to fight depleted, she moved him about effortlessly, letting him linger a moment on the back of her tongue. She could hear him yelling, just sounds, no words. With a quick motion of her head, she flicked him into her throat where her muscles seized hold of him and peristalsis dragged him down as she swallowed, feeling his little body move through the fibrous rings of cartilage depositing him into her stomach.

Spent, she lay there contented, sweet little tremors of elation still tingling up and down her spine. “Now you are inside me,” she murmured softly, dreamily, putting her right hand on her tummy and patting it gently.  She could feel herself beginning to drift, to succumb to fatigue, closing her eyes, she smiled and allowed sleep to sweep over her.