Chapter 7: Double Devastation
Marcus grasped his penis, positioning the slick, broad head at the entrance of Marie’s vagina. She was glistening from his mouth, her body still humming from the violent orgasm he’d wrung from her.
“Go easy,” she murmured, her voice thin, more a reflex than a request.
It didn’t end when Marcus pushed his penis inside.It began.
She cried out—a sharp, fractured sound. Her lips parted obscenely wide to allow Marcus’s thick penis to enter, and the walls of her vagina began to stretch in a profound, alien burn. Marie had never felt anything like it. Soaked as she was, her husband’s penis entered her without any problem, a comfortable, familiar fit. But Marcus’s penis was another matter entirely. It wasn’t just length, it was a brutal, filling girth.
The head hadn’t fully entered, so Marcus withdrew his penis almost completely and then reinserted it immediately, a short, punishing thrust. Schlt. The motion stretched the walls of Marie’s vagina even further, gaining a few more centimeters. Positioned as she was on her back, she could see him, could watch the dark, veined shaft of him disappearing into her pale flesh. Her vagina had never been so full, so dangerously taut. She gasped, moaned, and let out little breathy cries as Marcus’s penis slid deeper into her, a relentless, burning invasion.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” Marcus grunted, his voice strained with effort. “Tight little married pussy.”
With a gentle, almost clinical back-and-forth motion, he worked himself deeper. It wasn’t long before Marcus’s large cock disappeared completely inside Marie’s pussy, his hips finally meeting hers. She started to swear, a hissed “Jesus Christ,” when she felt the heavy slap of Marcus’s balls against her buttocks.
“All in,” he breathed, a grin of pure conquest on his face.“Look at that. You’re taking all of it, Madame la Bibliothécaire.”
Throughout the entire time, he had been commenting on the progress of his cock. “So wet for me… stretching you open… yeah, there we go…”
Slowly, Marcus began to move in and out of Marie’s pussy. The initial burn softened, transmuted by the slick friction into something else. She began to moan with a dawning, helpless pleasure. Then Marcus started to speed up the pace, his thrusts gaining authority.Smack. Smack.Smack. The sound of their bodies meeting filled the room, a wet, rhythmic counterpoint to the distant, fading sounds from down the hall.“Oh! Oh, god!” Marie cried out, her head thrashing on the pillow. Again, she had never experienced such a sensation. It was a fullness that bordered on pain, a deep, percussive pounding that sent shocks through her womb. Pleasure flooded her entire body, a narcotic heat that pooled in her belly and spread to her fingertips.
Marcus leaned down and kissed her, swallowing her moans. He kissed her like that for a while—deep, possessive kisses—as his hips continued their steady, grinding rhythm. Then he broke the kiss, lifted Marie’s legs, and placed them on his shoulders. In this position, folded nearly in half, Marcus’s cock seemed to go even deeper, spearing a new, untouched place inside her.
“Fuck,” Marcus groaned, his composure fraying. His thrusts became harder, more frantic.
Marie herself moaned, gasped, and cried out, a continuous stream of sound. The orgasm that came made her explode. It wasn’t a wave but a detonation, a white-hot rupture that clenched her entire body around him, milking his cock in vicious, spasmodic pulses. “AAAAH!YES! FUCK! FUCK!”
A few seconds later, with a choked roar, Marcus ejaculated inside her pussy. Marie felt the hot, sudden flood of sperm jetting deep into her, pulse after pulse. There was so much of it that it overflowed his cock when he finally stilled, thick and warm as it dripped out of her used opening and into the cleft of her buttocks.
She lay there, wrecked, the world a blur of ceiling and sensation. Marcus withdrew from her with a soft, wet sound, collapsing beside her. The smell of sex and sweat and sandalwood was overwhelming.
Marie had barely regained her senses, her body still twitching with aftershocks, when Marcus slapped her thigh. “On your knees,” he said, his voice already regaining its casual command. “Round two.”
Dazed, she obeyed, turning onto her hands and knees. The spent semen in her vagina facilitated the entry of Marcus’s large cock, which was already hard again. It quickly plunged deep inside her and began thrusting in and out with a steady, practiced rhythm. Slap-slap-schluck-slap.
Again, feeling the pleasure returning, building from the embers of the first, Marie began to pant, moan, and cry out. “Ohgod… yes… like that…”
Marcus, meanwhile, gripped her hips and continued to comment on what he was doing to her, his words a filthy, thrilling soundtrack. “That’s it, take it… you love this black cock, don’t you?… fucking a 37-year-old married woman… fucking you better than he ever could… twelve years younger and I own this pussy…” Each crude statement was punctuated by a deep, jarring thrust.
The rising pleasure clouded her senses somewhat, a warm fog of shame and ecstasy. But Marie could still hear, faintly, the sounds of Abdou and Valérie in the distance. A low laugh, a bed frame creaking. It was clear that Abdou was still fucking his colleague.
Marcus pounded Marie’s vagina in this position for a good ten minutes. The pleasure coiled, snapped, and she had her first orgasm of this round, a shuddering, sob-like release that made her clamp around him. But that didn’t stop Marcus, who continued without pause, his pace becoming brutal, animalistic, until he ejaculated a second time inside her with a guttural groan, flooding her with another hot rush.
The young woman collapsed onto the bed, exhausted, her face pressed into the damp sheets. The light from the ceiling seemed to dim, her vision speckled. A shadow fell over her.
She noticed Abdou had just entered the room. He stood right next to the bed, naked, his body a monument of hard muscle and dark skin. He was still semi-erect, his cock a thick, intimidating weight against his thigh, glistening with use.
He looked at Marcus, who was pulling on his jeans, and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Valérie’s done.Took a beating. Can’t walk straight.” He spoke in short, crude bursts. “Your turn. I left her ass untouched.Still tight. You can have it.”
Without asking Marie anything, Marcus, now dressed, moved to the head of the bed. He put a hand on her shoulder and flipped her onto her back with an easy strength. She was too spent to resist, a doll made of overstimulated nerve endings.
Abdou’s eyes, dark and appraising, roamed over her splayed, glistening body, the mess of their own making covering her thighs. He nodded, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face.
Marcus looked down at her, his expression one of cool amusement. He leaned close, his breath hot in her ear, and delivered the final, devastating line.
“Now,” he said, his voice a low promise of further ruin. “It’s my turn to fuck you.”