Fullness. Stretching. Those are the two sensations I’m aware of first, the moment Paul’s penis enters my pussy. The second thing I’m aware of is how long and hot it is. How, even with the rubber of the condom sliding into my small, tightly pursed lips, I can still feel texture. I can feel little ridges and veins in Paul’s member.

I groan with a mix of pleasure and pain, feeling my stomach and womb cramping under his size.  But, unlike the cramps during a period, this feels better. Like a really deep itch is getting scratched. I feel his penis push in a little farther, and I shudder, feeling my womb get a little stimulation.

But the tingling, cramping sensations quickly change as Paul begins to slowly move in and out of me. They change from tingling and cramping to something closer to rubbing. Buzzing.

“That’s right,” Paul says, spanking my ass and then grabbing hard onto my ass cheeks as he fucks me. “My little virgin is letting me inside her tight pussy.”

Sucking and gripping. This is what happens when Paul changes from long, slow deliberate penetrations to shorter faster ones, positioned just outside of my vaginal opening. These drive me particularly crazy. The way my lips make that wet, pulling noise, the way the muscles around my opening quiver with each push of his head — it makes me want to impale myself on him.

Seeming to read this desire in me, Paul pushes me farther up on the bed, before pushing my head down on the comforter, and my hips and ass up. “Hungry girls need to open wide if they want to get fed,” says Paul as he gathers both of my wrists in one hand, and pins them to my back. From there, I feel him force my knees apart. Now my pussy and ass are left to hang for him, like wet, ripe fruit. “And they say please,” he adds, giving my ass another slap.

It's harder this time, and it stings more. At the same time, he’s rubbing my clit, torturing me with the feeling of pleasure it creates.

I cry out, feeling my bladder/womb muscles contract. I’m not sure, but I think I feel a long string of hot, sticky juice leave me. “Please, Paul!” I feel my knees and legs shaking, but I don’t let them collapse. I want his cock again, and staying this way is the only way I’m going to get it. “Feed my hungry hole! Make me keep coming, again and again.”

In answer, Paul grabs a hip with one hand and mounts me. His hard cock enters me again, every ridge, every vein, singing with pride. Manliness. Unlike the first time he penetrated me, this time doesn’t hurt as much. It just feels good. Complete. Like a cosmos-sized puzzle has just been put together.

I moan. The sound is high and happy. And with good reason. Paul isn’t taking it slow this time. He’s pounding in and out of me faster than before. It’s enough to rock me back and forth, but I don’t lose my position. I can’t, with Paul’s hand pinning my arms to my back, and his other hand on my hips.

Under this increased speed, I feel myself beginning to nearly lose consciousness. Or, it’s more like I’m ascending into a new and different consciousness. My eyes begin to lose focus as the sensation of rocking both overwhelms and entrances me. But something soon enters my sex daze. My carnal bliss.

It’s the feeling of Paul’s strong fingers slipping to the front of my and fingering my clit again. At first the strokes are slow, heated. Like embers climbing a log. But they soon increase in speed and strength, until they match that of his cock. Almost immediately, I’m feeling my whole body beginning to buzz. Catch fire, and rise toward a glassy, shiny shot of pleasure. An itch so sweet and bitter, I have to have it.

My legs begin to curl up toward him. My pussy begins to clamp down on him, as I feel the familiar twist of impending orgasm. But before I can completely let go, ride the quickening burn of his fingers, and my growling clit, he pulls his hand away, and uses it to hold my other hip.

“Can’t let you go yet,” growls Paul, “I haven’t had enough of you yet.” Saying this, Paul goes all out on my pussy. He slams his dick in and out of it so hard and so fast, I can barely keep up with the waves of pleasure that begin to roll through me. They start out small, but quickly grow into an all-encompassing vibration. A full-body hum that starts in my womb and quickly grows outward to reach my fingertips.

It’s in this moment that I realize and accept that I love it rough.

I squeal, enjoying the feel of his large but firm balls slapping my ass fast and hard. At the same time, he’s grabbing my ass cheeks, squeezing them, and saying, “I’m riding your sweet pussy, and you’re loving my cock in you.”

“Yes, sir,” I agree.

I enjoy the slapping sound that accompanies all this. It makes me feel like I’m being punished. And I need to be punished!

I’m doing this instead of going home to Mom, I scold myself gleefully. I’m getting fucked by a guy I just met instead of sitting down for Christmas Eve dinner! I’m having a big, fat cock in my pussy instead of eating Mom’s honey glazed ham! I scream-groan in pleasure, sounding wilder than I ever thought possible. I’m so bad! I’m such a bad, bad girl! I laugh hungrily, as Paul begins to spank me and play with my asshole in turn. I can’t believe how good it feels for his fingers to be in my ass. Mom, if only you could see me now! Oddly, this makes my clit stand tall, not shrink. You’d see I’m not yours to control anymore!

Above me, I hear Paul breathing. It’s hard. Ragged, but steady.

“You’ve been a good girl, Mariah,” huffs Paul, gripping me a little tighter as he fucks me. It’s a little faster too. A little more desperate, as if he’s about to cum. “Quick. Obedient.” A pause, as he presses me on to him. “Is my good girl ready for her present?” His breath is shallow, trembling. “Is she ready to have her stocking stuffed?”

“Oh, yes, sir” I cry, surprised by how girly and porn-star high my voice sounds. “Stuff my stocking all the way, Santa!” Part of my mind can’t believe I just screamed that at the man who paid a million dollars for me, but that part of my mind is quickly overridden. And by Paul’s fingers once again losing themselves in my curls and folds.

He’s started to rub my puffy clit again, but this time he doesn’t let up. He doesn’t pull away, and I’m allowed to climb that sweet and sour staircase toward release. Under his thorough and persistent stroking along the sides and head of my clit, it isn’t long before I’m jolting with pleasure.

Chilly flames of arousal climb under the hood, and shortly after, fill my body with heat. Pulses start going through my clit under every brush of his fingers. Every press of his thumb, and soon I can stop twitching. Shuddering and shaking, and now I’m not just feeling hard and raw. I’m feeling pleasantly electrocuted from the clit all the way down to my pelvis.

I twist, but Paul doesn’t let me escape his grip. Nor does he let his cock get pushed out. He pushes further in, using his closeness as an opportunity to take my clit in between his fingers and jack it off as if it’s his penis. It’s as if our bodies have merged and by pleasuring me, he’s pleasuring himself. Now his cock and his fingers are riding me so hard, I can’t keep it back anymore.

I scream, feeling myself arch back as far as Paul’s hold will allow. With that, I come crashing headfirst into the strongest, most suffocating orgasm I’ve ever experienced. I literally can’t breathe as my pussy pumps hard under the release. I’m gasping for nonexistent air. Searching for words that don’t exist, realizing my brain feels disconnected at the stem. Even my scream has been stifled into a squeak.

Paul cums within seconds of me arching, but unlike me, his voice isn’t stifled. It’s strong. Clear. It’s not a scream, but a series of grunts.

“There. There you go, my dirty little girl,” he says, keeping his dick pushed and as far as it will go. “Take all of my cum.”

It feels warmer inside me, but because of the condom, I don’t feel the sticky slime I imagine defines semen. “Take all of it deep inside you.” Saying this, he actually groans. I feel him shudder inside and outside me.

And then, both of us give into exhaustion. He simply collapses against me, resting on my back and butt. And I’m happy to hold his weight. I’m too weak in my body to move anyway. It’s been turned to jelly. Warm, gooey jelly, that may never go back to being solid.

I don’t know how long we lie there for, but after some time, I feel him slip out of me. He then takes off his condom and disposes of it in a nearby wastebasket, before slipping me under the warm blanket and sheets on his bed.

“That was wonderful,” I murmur, feeling happier and more exhausted than I’ve ever felt. “You’re a great man, Paul. I’m glad it was you who gave me my first time.”

I feel a kiss on my lips. It’s hot, but not intense. “You’re welcome, baby.” He kisses my forehead next, a hand lingering on my face, and then in my hair. “It was a pleasure to take you for a ride.” His voice is more tender than it was moments ago, but it still has a smoky edge of dominance. “I’ll take you for a few more before this is over, but rest now.”

I smile, imagining what he’ll do and where we’ll do it next time. Maybe we’ll do it in the hot tub. Or maybe in a car…

As my eyes close, I see the lights go off. Paul’s arms come around me in the next second, as he gets into the bed next to me. In feels good to have him here. His warmth. His softness. The strength of his chest and stomach against me, and the caress of his cock as it returns to normal.

Tenderly, I push my ass into it, hoping he reads it as a “Thank you.”

He seems to, deciding to slip his softening penis between my legs and keep it there.

From here, it’s astonishingly easy for me to settle down and get to sleep. I feel content. Safe.

But, just before I grab onto a dream of Paul and me skiing to a private spot to fuck and give him another blow job, my rational mind kicks in. Fears about becoming too attached to him come in. Reminders about my new promise to Mom — the promise that I would definitely be home the day after Christmas — come in.

Don’t get too attached to him, Mariah. Yes, he took your virginity. He gave you the experience you came here for, but you can’t get attached. I hug the sheets and comforter to me. You can’t. After tomorrow, you have to leave him. You have to leave all this behind and go home to Mom. You have to be the good girl again. Weight creeps into my soul. You have to go home.