【蘇珊強森傑作選】： 消失的土耳其人—Recovery 4

Taking her docile hand, Abdul guided it to his rigid, arched penis and as her fingers closed around the pulsing shaft, Zena felt him catch his breath. A low, anguished groan escaped him, and he knew he could wait no longer.

Swiftly rolling Zena over so that her back was to him, his hands captured her hips. He slipped his erect penis between her legs, and she felt the first swelling pressure of his probing entrance. His penis touched her lightly over and over again at the most vulnerable tip of her pulsing desire. Then he entered her for the first time, pushing very delicately, advancing only half an inch at a time, resting, then slipping in another inch or so. This gave Zena plenty of time to feel the stirring presence, to feel the tight fit between soft walls of flesh. His gradual entrance ignited invisible currents inside her that warned of the coming explosion. Restless nerves lay waiting as her flesh yielded more and more until he filled her completely, touching the very depths of her womb.

Both hands gripped her softly rounded hips firmly, and he pushed deeper. Zena wanted to scream in pure, sensual bliss. Sweet honey was pouring from her as he swung in and out, moving slowly, teasing her to the edge of excruciating pleasure. But as soon as her breathing hastened he drew himself out, all hard and glistening. Zena trembled at the unexpected loss.

“A lesson, sweet Delilah,” Abdul breathed and caressed her cheek lightly as she quivered in unfulfilled yearning. “My pleasure comes first. Remember, I am master.”

He withheld himself, completely disregarding the lower half of her body, which shuddered and writhed. Instead he languidly filled his hands with her breasts, fondling the two heavy globes, swinging them lightly back and forth, caressing and stroking with a silken touch. He lazily toyed with his magnificent baubles, noting with roguish eyes the sensual tremors that seized Zena as the convulsive pulsing built in her soft, sweet canal.

Pleasantly roused by her enchanting sexuality, Abdul fancied a different stimulation. Releasing the soft, pliant flesh of her breasts, he swung himself up into a sitting position.

With an easy, lithe motion, Abdul moved in front of Zena. He rubbed his swollen love shaft, wet with Zena’s honeyed juice, over her cheek and mouth. Zena turned her head to escape it, raised her hands to resist the assault, but the brown-skinned Turk quietly said, “Remember the young boy; it’s my whim that decides whether he goes or stays.” Zena’s tossing head stilled, and her repudiating hands fell back.