heighten your amusement.” He spread his knees, forcing her legs farther apart. His erection reared over her, already sleeved in one condom. Rolling a second condom over the first, Maxwell spoke idly.
As he spoke, he again eyed the array of sparkling bottles on the bedside table. Selecting one, he put a few drops of something clear into the palm of his hand. To this he added a few drops from a second and third bottle. “The pH of your skin is slightly acid. I’m mixing exactly the right lubricant for your erotic needs.”
He slowly wiped the oily handful around her vulva, careful not to dip his fingers too far inside. The last of it he spread on his erect sex organ.
Penny giggled, limp as a rag doll.
From the table he plucked something. It was the mini digital recorder. Pressing a button, he said, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to record our session for my research.” A tiny red light glowed on the device. Dictating into it, Maxwell said, “Based on the test subject’s somewhat
playful
behavior, it’s safe to say the vaginal wash is having its full effect.”
And now he mounted her, thrusting his hardness against the pressure of the fluid. He was driving it higher into her. Stirring and churning the mixture.
Penny gasped. She cried out, as much from discomfort as pleasure. She felt wetness escape her and soak into the bedclothes. She felt the liquid expanding inside her. In vain she squirmed, trying to escape the sensation. As the pleasure grew, seizing control of her, Penny understood why Alouette hadbeen so bitter and enraged. Whatever the pink fluid consisted of, Maxwell’s pumping buttocks and probing cock seemed to force it into her bloodstream. Gradually her legs felt so relaxed she would swear they were floating. The feeling spread to her arms. Her breasts seemed to swell. Her mind stretched to accommodate a joy she’d never known existed.
She was only vaguely aware of Maxwell. While his hips bucked slowly into her, his bland stare observed the reactions on her face. He licked his fingers and softly tweaked her nipples, as focused as a safecracker. Without missing a thrust, he lifted the pen and scribbled a note in his book.
He petted her inner thighs and clitoris. With his hips, he made infinitesimal adjustments in the angle and speed of his thrusts. Gauging her reaction, he calibrated the depth of each stroke. Addressing the recorder, he said, “The test subject’s pelvic floor has relaxed in extremis.” He reached one latex-gloved hand around to the small of her back, brailling her spine until he found what he was seeking. On that one small spot, his fingertips intensified their massaging.
“Just so you understand what’s happening,” Maxwell explained, “I’m using two fingers to compress your anterior Hibbert artery. It’s a simple tantric technique a yogi in Sri Lanka was kind enough to teach me.” He talked like a tour guide, chatty and slightly patronizing. “By restricting the deeper blood flow to your groin, I’m numbing your clitoris.” Whatever he was doing, he didn’t need to look. His fingers knew their task. His eyes continued to hold hers.
“Your feedback is very important to this process,” Maxwell said. His voice sounded fuzzy, but Penny tried to concentrate. “Do you understand?” he asked. “Nod your head if you understand.”
Penny nodded.
“You must ready yourself. Do not be frightened.” He said,“Do not be afraid of crying out. You must let the pleasure pass through you.” He leveled his eyes gravely. “If you hinder the flow of satisfaction, it could kill you.”
Penny nodded. She was barely in the world. As pleasure drowned her, there was no past and no future. Nothing existed outside of this moment of peaking sensations. There was no world other than the energy surging in her body.
“In a moment, when I release the pressure, the blood will rush to your uris major, and you’ll experience more satisfaction than you ever dreamed was
As he spoke, he again eyed the array of sparkling bottles on the bedside table. Selecting one, he put a few drops of something clear into the palm of his hand. To this he added a few drops from a second and third bottle. “The pH of your skin is slightly acid. I’m mixing exactly the right lubricant for your erotic needs.”
He slowly wiped the oily handful around her vulva, careful not to dip his fingers too far inside. The last of it he spread on his erect sex organ.
Penny giggled, limp as a rag doll.
From the table he plucked something. It was the mini digital recorder. Pressing a button, he said, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to record our session for my research.” A tiny red light glowed on the device. Dictating into it, Maxwell said, “Based on the test subject’s somewhat
playful
behavior, it’s safe to say the vaginal wash is having its full effect.”
And now he mounted her, thrusting his hardness against the pressure of the fluid. He was driving it higher into her. Stirring and churning the mixture.
Penny gasped. She cried out, as much from discomfort as pleasure. She felt wetness escape her and soak into the bedclothes. She felt the liquid expanding inside her. In vain she squirmed, trying to escape the sensation. As the pleasure grew, seizing control of her, Penny understood why Alouette hadbeen so bitter and enraged. Whatever the pink fluid consisted of, Maxwell’s pumping buttocks and probing cock seemed to force it into her bloodstream. Gradually her legs felt so relaxed she would swear they were floating. The feeling spread to her arms. Her breasts seemed to swell. Her mind stretched to accommodate a joy she’d never known existed.
She was only vaguely aware of Maxwell. While his hips bucked slowly into her, his bland stare observed the reactions on her face. He licked his fingers and softly tweaked her nipples, as focused as a safecracker. Without missing a thrust, he lifted the pen and scribbled a note in his book.
He petted her inner thighs and clitoris. With his hips, he made infinitesimal adjustments in the angle and speed of his thrusts. Gauging her reaction, he calibrated the depth of each stroke. Addressing the recorder, he said, “The test subject’s pelvic floor has relaxed in extremis.” He reached one latex-gloved hand around to the small of her back, brailling her spine until he found what he was seeking. On that one small spot, his fingertips intensified their massaging.
“Just so you understand what’s happening,” Maxwell explained, “I’m using two fingers to compress your anterior Hibbert artery. It’s a simple tantric technique a yogi in Sri Lanka was kind enough to teach me.” He talked like a tour guide, chatty and slightly patronizing. “By restricting the deeper blood flow to your groin, I’m numbing your clitoris.” Whatever he was doing, he didn’t need to look. His fingers knew their task. His eyes continued to hold hers.
“Your feedback is very important to this process,” Maxwell said. His voice sounded fuzzy, but Penny tried to concentrate. “Do you understand?” he asked. “Nod your head if you understand.”
Penny nodded.
“You must ready yourself. Do not be frightened.” He said,“Do not be afraid of crying out. You must let the pleasure pass through you.” He leveled his eyes gravely. “If you hinder the flow of satisfaction, it could kill you.”
Penny nodded. She was barely in the world. As pleasure drowned her, there was no past and no future. Nothing existed outside of this moment of peaking sensations. There was no world other than the energy surging in her body.
“In a moment, when I release the pressure, the blood will rush to your uris major, and you’ll experience more satisfaction than you ever dreamed was
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