Dominant on the Dusty Kenya Trail part 6
atio.
Christopher's fingers dug into Clementine's hips, his thumbs pressing into the dimples above her ass as he positioned himself. The air between them crackled—part tension, part anticipation. "Dry?" he confirmed, voice rough. "You sure? No mercy?"
Clementine braced against the patio ledge, her shoulders tensing. "Dry," she repeated, tossing him a smirk over her shoulder that didn't quite mask the flicker of nerves in her eyes. "Think I can't take it after what I did to you?"
Christopher's laugh was dark. "Vengeance is mine, *remember*—you asked for this."
He didn't give her time to retort. The first thrust was brutal, unyielding—no slickness, no give—just the white-hot friction of skin on skin. Clementine's scream tore through the air, her fingers scrambling against concrete as her spine arched violently. Christopher gritted his teeth and groaned at how tight she was.
“Oh fuck! Your cock feels like a giant log being shoved up my ass!” Clementine shouted. as soon as she was done speaking, he pulled his penis out except for tip, and then shoved it back in, making her holler once more. Then he set a rhythm of thrusting into her once each second.
Prairie's clapping hands cracked like gunshots in the dry air behind them. She pumped her fists in the air An egg Christopher on.
“Yeah! That’s right, baby! Keep going! Set her insides on fire! Ram into her like a freight train! Fuck that ass! Fuck that ass! Fuck that ass! Fuck that ass!”
The pain was molten—a white-hot vise clamping down on both of them with every merciless thrust. Clementine's screams pitched higher, operatic in their intensity, as Christopher's hips pistoned against her. Her nails scraped against concrete, leaving faint gray streaks. She could *feel* it—the exact moment his control shattered. His rhythm stuttered, then locked rigid as his cock pulsed inside her, flooding her with wet heat that seemed to travel impossibly far up her colon.
"F-fuck—it feels like you're *pouring* into my *organs*," she gasped, shuddering violently as her own climax crested. Her thighs trembled, her ass clenching around him in erratic spasms. Their synchronized moans hung thick in the air for twenty-five endless seconds before Christopher collapsed onto her back, his sweat-slick chest heaving against her spine.
Prairie's applause was slow, deliberate—three mocking claps that echoed off the silo walls.
"Good job, Christopher," she purred, her smirk audible. She waited exactly two minutes, letting them pant against each other, before sucking her index and middle fingers into her mouth with obscene wet noises. After 30 seconds of sucking, she pulled both fingers from her mouth and pulled back Christopher’s left butt cheek. He looked over his shoulder at her, then his eyes widen as he saw her fingers, aiming at his sphincter, and then being shoved inside.
Christopher's entire body arched violently when Prairie's slick fingers breached him—a high, strangled squeal tearing from his throat as his knees buckled. Clementine didn't need prompting; she twisted backward like a contortionist, her arms looping around Christopher's biceps in a vise grip, yanking him down flush against her sweat-slicked back. "Hold *still*, bunny," she panted, her voice ragged with leftover pleasure. Prairie's free hand slapped Christopher's hipbone for emphasis.
"Y'know," Prairie mused, crooking her fingers deeper, "I always figured you'd be loud." She punctuated the observation by twisting her wrist sharply—her knuckles grinding against his inner walls in a way that made Christopher's vision whiten at the edges. His scream dissolved into gasping, arrhythmic hiccups, his thighs trembling against Clementine's legs.
Prairie alternated her assaults with clinical precision: long, slow strokes that dragged against oversensitive nerves, then sudden, punishing curls of her fingertips that raked his prostate. Every time Christopher's hips stuttered forward, Clementine countered by arching her spine, pinning him deeper onto Prairie's hand.
Christopher's fingers dug into Clementine's hips, his thumbs pressing into the dimples above her ass as he positioned himself. The air between them crackled—part tension, part anticipation. "Dry?" he confirmed, voice rough. "You sure? No mercy?"
Clementine braced against the patio ledge, her shoulders tensing. "Dry," she repeated, tossing him a smirk over her shoulder that didn't quite mask the flicker of nerves in her eyes. "Think I can't take it after what I did to you?"
Christopher's laugh was dark. "Vengeance is mine, *remember*—you asked for this."
He didn't give her time to retort. The first thrust was brutal, unyielding—no slickness, no give—just the white-hot friction of skin on skin. Clementine's scream tore through the air, her fingers scrambling against concrete as her spine arched violently. Christopher gritted his teeth and groaned at how tight she was.
“Oh fuck! Your cock feels like a giant log being shoved up my ass!” Clementine shouted. as soon as she was done speaking, he pulled his penis out except for tip, and then shoved it back in, making her holler once more. Then he set a rhythm of thrusting into her once each second.
Prairie's clapping hands cracked like gunshots in the dry air behind them. She pumped her fists in the air An egg Christopher on.
“Yeah! That’s right, baby! Keep going! Set her insides on fire! Ram into her like a freight train! Fuck that ass! Fuck that ass! Fuck that ass! Fuck that ass!”
The pain was molten—a white-hot vise clamping down on both of them with every merciless thrust. Clementine's screams pitched higher, operatic in their intensity, as Christopher's hips pistoned against her. Her nails scraped against concrete, leaving faint gray streaks. She could *feel* it—the exact moment his control shattered. His rhythm stuttered, then locked rigid as his cock pulsed inside her, flooding her with wet heat that seemed to travel impossibly far up her colon.
"F-fuck—it feels like you're *pouring* into my *organs*," she gasped, shuddering violently as her own climax crested. Her thighs trembled, her ass clenching around him in erratic spasms. Their synchronized moans hung thick in the air for twenty-five endless seconds before Christopher collapsed onto her back, his sweat-slick chest heaving against her spine.
Prairie's applause was slow, deliberate—three mocking claps that echoed off the silo walls.
"Good job, Christopher," she purred, her smirk audible. She waited exactly two minutes, letting them pant against each other, before sucking her index and middle fingers into her mouth with obscene wet noises. After 30 seconds of sucking, she pulled both fingers from her mouth and pulled back Christopher’s left butt cheek. He looked over his shoulder at her, then his eyes widen as he saw her fingers, aiming at his sphincter, and then being shoved inside.
Christopher's entire body arched violently when Prairie's slick fingers breached him—a high, strangled squeal tearing from his throat as his knees buckled. Clementine didn't need prompting; she twisted backward like a contortionist, her arms looping around Christopher's biceps in a vise grip, yanking him down flush against her sweat-slicked back. "Hold *still*, bunny," she panted, her voice ragged with leftover pleasure. Prairie's free hand slapped Christopher's hipbone for emphasis.
"Y'know," Prairie mused, crooking her fingers deeper, "I always figured you'd be loud." She punctuated the observation by twisting her wrist sharply—her knuckles grinding against his inner walls in a way that made Christopher's vision whiten at the edges. His scream dissolved into gasping, arrhythmic hiccups, his thighs trembling against Clementine's legs.
Prairie alternated her assaults with clinical precision: long, slow strokes that dragged against oversensitive nerves, then sudden, punishing curls of her fingertips that raked his prostate. Every time Christopher's hips stuttered forward, Clementine countered by arching her spine, pinning him deeper onto Prairie's hand.
31-35, M