I engage in passionate encounters with someone I know only as 'Hide'.
His name and identity are veiled in secrecy, adding to the enigmatic allure that surrounds us.
The intensity of our connection is so consuming, it feels like being engulfed in flames.
Time and time again, I lie beneath his touch, allowing him to explore my body for pleasure. Sometimes painful, sometimes unimaginable, but always ending in such profound joy that I nearly forget to breathe.
His appearance remains a mystery, and I don't seek to uncover it—I'm content within this ambiguous space. The mattress sinks under his weight as his tall frame hovers above mine. He's always here, punctually.
The familiar scent of leather and cologne quickens my heartbeat. Tonight promises another long night, but the chaos of the day leaves me feeling unprepared. I squint at his towering figure—muscular, like an American football player, with attributes as impressive as his build.
"You're here,"
I mutter with a sigh, but my intoxication anchors me, and I can't summon the strength to rise; my head is heavy.
"Where have you been tonight, Sweet Pea?" he asks, gently probing my cheek with his large hand.
"At a lousy party,"
I reply, recalling an evening ending in a scuffle with an industry bigshot—unfortunate, but of little consequence.
Annoyed, I start to remove my shirt. Hide helps, his touch deliberate. As my clothing falls away, the marks on my arm catch his attention.
"What happened here?" he asks, concern flickering in his eyes.
"I had a fight with some idiot,"
I reply casually. He mutters something unintelligible, clearly irritated, then carefully strips away my clothes, leaving me only in underwear.
"Does it hurt?" he asks, lightly touching the bruise.
"No."
"Are you sure?" he presses, scrutinizing my face.
"Absolutely," I reply with a confident smile.
"Or do you just want to sleep tonight?" he asks, steady but filled with unspoken longing, eyes brimming with desire.
Why restrain himself when the pull between us is so intense? He's as drawn to me as I am to him. No one else has ever brought me such explosive climaxes.
We lock eyes, silently giving permission. I lean in, sealing my intent with a desperate kiss. His mouth responds warmly, his tongue eagerly welcoming me. We don't play games—when I hunger, he fulfills; when he desires, I oblige.
Hide's touch is immediate, commanding, the skill of a predator—hungry, fierce, eager. This has been our dynamic for six months.
Suddenly impatient, I pull off my dark gray T-shirt and jeans. Hide's tanned skin is my favorite. With our clothes gone, skin presses against skin, revealing our differences.
With only underwear left, arousal simplifies. I tease him, feeling his hardness beneath.
Our lips collide, hands restless, fingers exploring and squeezing, fueling my anticipation.
Sensing my desire, Hide shatters the last barrier. Exposed and uninhibited, we stand in primal longing—beasts unleashed in their mating season, driven by instinct.
Naked, our bodies press together; his hands ignite every nerve. One finger teases my chest, flicking my taut nipples, as he leans in, tasting my skin before biting—an exquisite pain and pleasure that makes me cry out.
"…Ahhh," I gasp, feeling the thrill beneath the sting. My moans motivate him, his fierce focus relentless.
Damn!
His mouth and tongue are masters of bliss. My fingers grip his hair as he descends, leading the dance of desire.
This is the climax of anticipation—his skillful touch pushing me to the edge. I clench my jaw, breath ragged.
"Oh my God…"
My voice is a whisper, trembling bodies overwhelmed, floating on the brink of surrender.
Before me, a true man in every inch, kneels gracefully, his powerful physique—a testament to diligent care—impossible to look away.
Many have beautiful bodies, but trust me, Hide's muscles are the most perfect, breathtaking of all.
"What are you looking at?" he asks deep and resonant.
"Hm?" I tease.
"Inspecting the merchandise," he smirks.
Of course, I want to tease back.
"Are you satisfied with what you see?" I ask.
"Absolutely," he replies confidently.
He pulls my legs apart, kisses me once, then flips me onto the bed.
"I want to spank you," he says seriously.
Without hesitation, his hand strikes my behind—loud in the quiet room.
Slap!
He pulls my waist closer, gripping me firmly. I shiver, knowing he's not gentle now.
Tomorrow, I might not even walk…
His rough fingers invade my softness, spreading my folds wide.
Ugh! I bite my lip, a mixture of anticipation and craving.
Madness! He's teasing me again—driving me wild with desire.
Suddenly, his thick core plunges deep, steady and relentless—punishment and reward intertwined.
His narrow waist lifts only to press down again with such force I gasp, breath catching. He's so enormous, every thrust leaves me trembling from his raw power.
"Shit!"
I mutter, fighting the urge to slam my head against the headboard.
But the more I resist, the more fiercely he rutts into me—as if intent on pounding me senseless, teaching me his brutal lesson.
Fierce and insatiable, he presses me down with savage lust. My head tilts back, teeth clenched so tight my jaw aches.
"Moaning like that, do you want more?" he whispers, pressing into me until I can't help but moan.
I turn my gaze to my backside, the raw flesh inside so tight… I can't believe I've taken him this way.
"Is that all?" he huskily challenges, pushing my limits with his words.
"You're such a slut,"
"Shit"
I hiss, trembling from pain and pleasure alike.
He softly curses, pulling back slightly before forcing himself in again, so hard I nearly choke.
I pant, trembling with each brutal thrust. He pounds into me like an animal—no gentleness, just savage, primal passion.
And that's exactly what I crave.