She Was Already Touching Herself When I Opened the Door

She was already touching herself when I opened the door.

One knock. The door swung open. Ananya stood there in an oversized t-shirt, panties around one ankle, fingers still shiny and working between her legs. Her eyes were dark and unfocused. The second she saw me she didn’t stop. She just stepped back to let me in.

I locked the door. Turned. She was still touching herself, watching me.

“Couldn’t wait?” I asked, voice already rough.

“Been like this since your text.” Her fingers moved faster. “I’m so close already.”

I crossed the room, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her hand away. I sucked her fingers clean while she watched, then spun her around and bent her over the nearest chair. The t-shirt rode up. She was completely bare underneath, glistening and open.

I shoved my jeans down just far enough, rubbed the head of my cock through her wetness once, and pushed in to the hilt in one hard thrust.

She cried out and came immediately, clenching around me so tightly it almost hurt. I didn’t stop. I fucked her through it with deep, relentless strokes, one hand on the back of her neck, the other gripping her hip. The wet sound of it filled the quiet apartment.

“That’s one,” I growled. “You’re going to give me more.”

She pushed back to meet every thrust, already moaning again. I reached around and rubbed tight circles over her swollen clit. She came a second time within minutes, legs shaking so hard I had to hold her up. I kept going, chasing my own release, and buried myself deep when I finished, flooding her in thick pulses.

I stayed inside her, breathing hard against her back. She was trembling, still pulsing around me.

“Bedroom,” I said. “Now.”

I pulled out. Cum immediately started sliding down her thighs. She looked wrecked already and we had barely started. I lifted her, carried her to the bed, and dropped her on her back. She spread her legs without being asked.

I stripped the rest of the way and climbed over her. She was still dripping with me. I sank back in with a single thrust and started fucking her slower this time, deeper, grinding against her clit on every stroke. Her hands fisted in the sheets. Her mouth stayed open on broken sounds.

“Look at me,” I ordered.

She did. I watched her face as I fucked her, watched the exact moment the third orgasm hit her. She clamped down hard and cried out. I followed right after, groaning into her neck as I filled her again.

We didn’t stop.

The fourth time I put her on her hands and knees and took her from behind, one hand wrapped in her hair, the other reaching under to play with her oversensitive clit. She came so hard she collapsed onto her elbows. I held her hips up and kept thrusting until I finished one last time, grinding deep and staying there while everything I had left emptied into her.

Afterward we stayed locked together, sweaty and shaking. My cock was still twitching inside her. She was so full it was already leaking out around me.

I kissed the back of her shoulder, voice wrecked.

“I’m not leaving until morning.”

She pushed back against me, still fluttering around my cock.

“Good,” she whispered. “Because I still haven’t had enough.”

I laughed—low, filthy—and felt myself starting to harden again inside her.

“Then we’re going to ruin this bed.”

And we did. Until the sun came up.