Alien Brute's Captive - Aya Morningstar Page 0,30

and caresses me.

He spends so long on my lower stomach. He kisses and rubs and licks me, and just inches below I’m soaking wet, desperate to feel him touch me.

He doesn’t. He moves to my thighs.

“Krakon,” I whine. I’m going to explode if he doesn’t touch me right where I need to be touched.

He kisses me so close now, right where my inner thigh meets my body. I shift and squirm, trying to press my pussy against him.

I move just enough that his tongue grazes my outer lips, and that’s enough to stop him from messing with me. He licks up my juices, and my hips buck up into the air.

It’s a powerful and irresistible urge. I gasp. My throat clenches. I can’t breathe. My body collapses down as I finally pull in a deep breath of air. His tongue massages my outer lips, slowly working up from bottom to top, and at the apex he touches my clit with his tongue, just for a brief moment, before falling back down again into my overwhelming wetness.

I try to touch myself, but he tears my hand away. He holds me by my wrists, forcefully. It’s like being pinned down by a sea or a mountain, I couldn’t break free of that grip if my life depended on it.

He lingers a fraction of a second longer each time he touches my clit. After a minute or two of the longest--and most intensely pleasurable--minutes of my life, he finally stays there, his tongue moving gently across my most sensitive place.

He releases my wrists, and I dig my fingers into his scalp. I press against his head, not ever wanting him to move from this spot. I wrap my thighs around him, and they press into the sides of his face and he licks me for all he’s worth.

I realize that it doesn’t even matter if he can’t fit inside me. I haven’t even cum yet and this is the best sex I’ve ever had. Just feeling his hand touching me and drinking in his alien scent would be the best thing I’d ever felt. Better than sex all night with Thad, which had only ever happened once, right when we started dating.

My thighs tremble, shaking against him. My hips buck, and he pins me down by the waist, gripping me with those beautifully strong hands.

I squirm my upper body, pinching my own nipples. The feeling between my legs is so overwhelming, I’m pinching myself to see if it’s even real. It’s real, and it’s getting stronger.

I scream. If there are more tribesmen looking for us, they might even hear me through the ice storm.

The orgasm hits me with no warning. I was just feeling so good and warm one moment, and the next it was like a storm had been unleashed inside of me. This storm isn’t icy, it’s warm and wonderful. It’s a storm that swallows me whole and annihilates me--it absorbs me until I am the storm. Krakon’s muscles bulge as he tries to tame the tempest that I’ve become.

When I cum, I don’t even know how many times it happens. The orgasms overlap, but it’s at least five or six times over several minutes. I feel like I’m vibrating out of existence, and if having these orgasms actually kills me, it will be a satisfying death.

I don’t die, though, I just collapse into breathlessness as an afterglow stronger than any orgasm I’ve ever had washes over me like a religious experience. It’s not intense and violent like coming, but it feels better. It’s warmer, more loving, and as Krakon falls beside me and pulls me back into his arms, our sweaty bodies pressing together again, I know that this is all I’ll ever need.

After some of the nicest minutes of my life, he finally speaks again. “Cat. It will fit.”

I’ve felt it with my hands. It will not fit. It can’t. Yet somehow, I believe him.

I thought I would try to get on top of him and only take in what I could. Half of the tip maybe. Instead, I believe him so fully and with so much abandon, that I find myself on my knees. I stick my ass in the air, and I want nothing more than for him to be inside me. To take as much of him as possible.

He presses the top half of my body down, but my ass sticks up in the air still. We couldn’t do regular doggy-style under these furs without letting