"I'mcumming" she screamed at my forehead. I stopped thrusting for a half second, before bottoming out at the tail end of her convulsions. Her whole body thrummed. She was a guitar string, and my dick was the pick. That makes sense, right?

"Fuck," she whispered it like a prayer, leaning over towards my mouth for another kiss. I turned, palming the back of her head towards my shoulder once more as I started pumping her all over again, angling up to get as deep as possible.

It shouldn't be weird

Her walls were that magical mix of soaking wet and pliable, a level of spongy rigidity coming off another climax. Not quite as tight when we began, but I didn't have to spend six minutes cocooning my cock in her entrance out of my overeager stupidity.

Just talk to her

She leans down again, whatever praises she had teed up devolving into a slurry of exhales and expletives. My hand closes, fingers wreathed around her hair, pulling her down while my cock pistoned upwards.

We were at three now, I think. I usually had to ask after the fact how many times she came. The back to back ones all blended together for me. Used to be I took an hour to cum. "Benefits" of antidepressants. I still did my best to put her over a handful before getting my nut, but I'd been overestimating my endurance.

My legs went stiff. The thrusting hit a fever pitch, my hands falling to her hips in an effort to stay inside her as our parts mashed together.

I stopped breathing for a second. One heartbeat. Two.

The pressure mounted. My cock tensed. Throbbed. My whole body was shaking, practically call and response.

You really should've worn a condom

half recollection, half depraved ramblings.