It was like a military porn encounter. His military uniform was rough against her silky skin. She desperately clung to the digital fabric as his fingers swirled deftly around her clit. She was putty in his hands, and he loved it. Loved having something so fragile between calloused palms when for the last nine months he had been surrounded by nothing but war.
She squeaked into his lips as she quivered, a small orgasm making her tremble in his arms. As she went rigid, he threw his knee onto the bed behind her and laid her down. Cradling her head with his free hand while she clamped down with her thighs on the hand he had buried in her sopping wet pussy.
His rock-hard cock pressed against his pants, straining against the material as if desperate to feel her flesh against his own. Finally, her orgasm passed and she fumbled with his clothes, stripping him of his fatigues, his boots already discarded on the floor behind them. His shirt remained on, their desire too great to care about romance. Her hands roamed against his skin, the desert sun has left its mark.
He finally freed his hand, and she let out a small whimper of disappointment. He chuckled, having desperately missed the sound. His fingers curled in her long hair and he tugged gently, drawing her head back and revealing her neck.
He leaned down, peppering the sensitive skin with heavy kisses that left her breathless. His teeth brushed over where her heart beat the loudest before moving down between the valley of her breasts.
Finally, he found the peaks, taking her nipple between his teeth, biting hard enough to draw out a haggard gasp from her chest as she arched her back. He pulled her hair again, like an animal with a barely contained lust for more.
His organ pulsed against her thigh, his heartbeat on time with her own as they fondled and played with each other, her mewling like a cat and him growling like a tiger. Finally, she could take no more of the teasing.
“Please.” She begged. “It’s been so long. I need you!” she cried. As if responding to a cadence, he released her breast with a loud pop. Then pressed his palm to the back of her knee, angling his cock to her entrance, readying to spear her like a guerilla fighter.
“Who’s pussy is this?” he demanded, gutturally.
“Yours.” she whimpered.
“Your’s, what?!” he continued, holding back with a godlike will.
“Your’s sir!” she cried, tears falling from her eyes out of a desperate need for release.
Finally, after nine long months, he entered her in one quick thrust. They stilled, savoring the moment, allowing her body to adjust again after all this time. Her breathing quickened and finally, her hips undulated, begging him to move. She didn’t beg for long, and he met her thrusts, like a march after the bugle sounded. Again and again, they rose together, crashing over the waves of ecstasy until the warmness of his cum spilled out and soaked the sheets beneath him. He collapsed on top of her shaking body in exhaustion worthy of a military porn encounter of Sweet passionate love
.
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