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He plunges into me to the hilt, the hesitation there, is it imagined, or does it truly exist, as the world stops spinning, every thing around us suspends and bursts with life, and its joys. I gasp inward to fill the glowing void with his aura, his essence, the very atmosphere around him. I throw my head back, pressing my shoulders to the bed, completely taken by release, my legs lifted, grasping him, drawing him harder, closer to me, feeling his own release as it erupts within me, setting off shockwaves of orgasm with every pulsing explosion of his cum. It is a struggle of life and death, somehow that vital, that intense, that mysterious. I grasp his shoulders, his arms and tears leak from squeezed shut eyes, which next open unto a bright mystery into which I’ve arrived at his urging. I know I don’t belong here, but am filled with that joyous glee of something precious, something illicit…an amazing place, where I feel perfect, where I see perfection, where love is all that exists, it. Unexpectedly, Helen had not stayed at her sister's and on climbing the stairs at home she was surprised to hear groaning coming from the bedroom that Peter used. She pushed the half-open door to see her husband furiously wanking his cock and obviouslyvery engrossed with what was onscreen."What the fuck?" she said and, despite having the headphones on, Peter twisted in his chair.By now, Helen had seen what was onscreen and looked at her shocked husband who still had his erect prick in his hand."Helen... You, you were staying at Rachel's," mumbled the embarrassed Peter.She ignored his remark and demanded, "Is that what turns you on? I haven't seen you that hard in years." Um, no... yes I..." Do you want your arse caned by a woman... by me?" No, no... I." Well, I don't care what you want. I am going to buy a cane and use it on you you worthless piece of shit."Being caned by Helen was what Peter had wanted for years but he had been too afraid or too embarrassed to ask.His prick had.
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