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Book: Sizzling in Singapore (A Carnal Cuisine Novel) by K.C. Falls, Torri D. Cooke
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Authors: K.C. Falls, Torri D. Cooke
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just below the head she bore down on it and opened herself to him. Nick felt the unbelievable tightness yield as she yelped, just once, with the violation of her body. "It's okay, Nick, my love, just wait a moment. Give it time to relax."
It took all of his genuine concern for her to stay the primal urge to thrust his cock deeper into her. She held the head of his cock just past her sphincter and breathed deeply a few times before she began to push against him in earnest. Nick grabbed her hips to steady himself and stay in control. He felt himself being drawn in in a way that was entirely unlike fucking her vagina. The hole was so tight it felt like fingers squeezing him and moving up and down the end of his shaft. His cockhead, completely inside her ass, rested in a warm void. Dear God. What a sensation.
She began to buck harder against him, heating the butter that allowed him to slide so easily in and out. She took more of his length with each thrust and grunted with pleasure and exertion with each thrust. She had moved her hand back to her clit and was rubbing furiously. "Don't take long, love. I can't last long with you in my ass."
He was grateful for her warning. He struggled not to spew his spunk into her instantly. He could feel her pace quicken and knew she was near. He began to move more boldly against her as her tight ass muscle drew his semen to the point of no return. Her orgasm was sharp against his cock and he could feel every wave as the spasms took her. Taking her this way, her contractions were much clearer to him. Her pleasure drew him out and gave him permission to release.
"I'm coming now, baby. Take it." And with that she pushed back against him and took nearly the full length of his cock inside. As her spasms reached their peak he thrust once, twice and then stood still as he emptied himself into her.
***
Nick sat bolt upright in bed with a gasp. Chest heaving, he tried to connect himself with the room, the bed and his solitude. He could still feel the palpable aftershocks of orgasm and, to his chagrin, felt the sticky wetness of his semen on his thighs. A wet dream? At my age? Even alone, he felt the familiar sense of embarrassment that rightly belonged to a much earlier time. Holy shit. I know that this melatonin I took to counter the jet-lag is supposed to bring on vivid dreams, but this is ridiculous! But it felt so good. Delicious sensations of satisfaction made him want to return to the dream--to snuggle against Mae's willing body in afterglow.
There was no sleeping now. He looked at the clock and saw that he was in the impossible hours when nothing moves and sleep eludes the weary. He felt an urgent need to be outside looking at stars, listening to the night insects and breathing the coolest air he was likely to find in this tropic torpor that was Singapore. He quickly pulled on some clothes and wandered into the hall, brightly lit as if expecting some late visitor. The elevator took him to the lobby where the same bright expectant light juxtaposed against the quiet night. The lone attendant at the desk leapt to her feet in hopeful anticipation that she would have something to break the monotony of the graveyard shift. Nick strode past her with a perfunctory nod and burst into the still, humid air.
He walked swiftly around to the gardens and away from the neon lit signs of the Elysium and the luminous chatter of Orchard Road. He needed darkness and space. He wanted to feel the inky fingers of the night massage away the disturbing, but oh-so pleasant dream.
The pale guide-lights of the garden paths led him to the back door of the kitchen and with a homing instinct, he instinctively sought respite there. The kitchen was lit as in his dream. At three in the morning, no one was required to be in attendance. The on-call cook could be summoned up if some traveler arrived with an appetite.
Nick opted for some therapeutic chopping. An executive chef gets precious few chances for hands-on
It took all of his genuine concern for her to stay the primal urge to thrust his cock deeper into her. She held the head of his cock just past her sphincter and breathed deeply a few times before she began to push against him in earnest. Nick grabbed her hips to steady himself and stay in control. He felt himself being drawn in in a way that was entirely unlike fucking her vagina. The hole was so tight it felt like fingers squeezing him and moving up and down the end of his shaft. His cockhead, completely inside her ass, rested in a warm void. Dear God. What a sensation.
She began to buck harder against him, heating the butter that allowed him to slide so easily in and out. She took more of his length with each thrust and grunted with pleasure and exertion with each thrust. She had moved her hand back to her clit and was rubbing furiously. "Don't take long, love. I can't last long with you in my ass."
He was grateful for her warning. He struggled not to spew his spunk into her instantly. He could feel her pace quicken and knew she was near. He began to move more boldly against her as her tight ass muscle drew his semen to the point of no return. Her orgasm was sharp against his cock and he could feel every wave as the spasms took her. Taking her this way, her contractions were much clearer to him. Her pleasure drew him out and gave him permission to release.
"I'm coming now, baby. Take it." And with that she pushed back against him and took nearly the full length of his cock inside. As her spasms reached their peak he thrust once, twice and then stood still as he emptied himself into her.
***
Nick sat bolt upright in bed with a gasp. Chest heaving, he tried to connect himself with the room, the bed and his solitude. He could still feel the palpable aftershocks of orgasm and, to his chagrin, felt the sticky wetness of his semen on his thighs. A wet dream? At my age? Even alone, he felt the familiar sense of embarrassment that rightly belonged to a much earlier time. Holy shit. I know that this melatonin I took to counter the jet-lag is supposed to bring on vivid dreams, but this is ridiculous! But it felt so good. Delicious sensations of satisfaction made him want to return to the dream--to snuggle against Mae's willing body in afterglow.
There was no sleeping now. He looked at the clock and saw that he was in the impossible hours when nothing moves and sleep eludes the weary. He felt an urgent need to be outside looking at stars, listening to the night insects and breathing the coolest air he was likely to find in this tropic torpor that was Singapore. He quickly pulled on some clothes and wandered into the hall, brightly lit as if expecting some late visitor. The elevator took him to the lobby where the same bright expectant light juxtaposed against the quiet night. The lone attendant at the desk leapt to her feet in hopeful anticipation that she would have something to break the monotony of the graveyard shift. Nick strode past her with a perfunctory nod and burst into the still, humid air.
He walked swiftly around to the gardens and away from the neon lit signs of the Elysium and the luminous chatter of Orchard Road. He needed darkness and space. He wanted to feel the inky fingers of the night massage away the disturbing, but oh-so pleasant dream.
The pale guide-lights of the garden paths led him to the back door of the kitchen and with a homing instinct, he instinctively sought respite there. The kitchen was lit as in his dream. At three in the morning, no one was required to be in attendance. The on-call cook could be summoned up if some traveler arrived with an appetite.
Nick opted for some therapeutic chopping. An executive chef gets precious few chances for hands-on
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