Gezza threw Marie on the bed with a thud.

Her room smelled of vanilla--cleaner, sweeter than the stuffy library in which they had first fooled.

A flush flew over her face; her thighs were set to each other, knees trembling.

Gezza saw the movement and grinned, the same crooked grin which meant I know your secret.

He bent forward, his lips rubbing against the cavity under her ear.

His lungs filled with her scent, vanilla and warm skin.

"It is not our first, virgin", he teased her, voice coarse with recollection. "You are shy."

She trembled with her fingertips touching his chest as though she was probing his reality.

She had been the slut rubbing his dick through his jeans with her sultry whispers yesterday, in the library. Now she played coy.

"I'm not shy", she protested, but the glow on her face told her lie. She averted her gaze, smouth suppressed.

Gezza squeezed her breasts with the sweater, his thumbs whirling round until her nipples hardened.

His cock ached, bulky, insistent, demanding pleasure.

He unstrapped her bra—black lace, still fresh to her skin--and her scent lingered upon it as if it were a promise.

He rubbed the cloth over his lips, and then dropped his mouth into one of his nipples, and sucked as hard as he could, without leaving anything untinged.

She moaned, a deep hmmm that vibrated her voice.

He rolled her other nipples between finger and thumb; the bedframe creaked in protest as she arched back.

"You are too rough", she stuttered, and even as she spoke her hand was sliding down her stomach, fingers slipping under her waistband, seeking her own warmth.

Gezza sucked out of her nipple with a wet pop.

"I want to eat every part of you", he growled.

"I'm fucking wet already", Marie said. She pulled her fingers out of between her thighs--slick, shiny—and held them up in her fingers, like evidence. "Fuck, I'm horny."

Gezza caught her by her wrist, pulled her hand to his mouth. Hot and calculated, his tongue twined itself around her fingers and lolled on the salt-sweet evidence of her.

"Pervert", she moaned the word.

He raised up her arm, nailing it up above her head. The sweat on her armpit was a kind of personal prize.

Gezza covered his face with it and sniffed: salt, skin, the raw smelling of her day. With a hot breath, he exhaled over the wet hollow; she shivered and her thighs tensed.

His tongue pulled slowly over the sensitive flesh, the lips sucking at it.

"Oooo", she moaned, rolling her hips, her thigh grinding against the stiff line of his thigh between her legs. He caught her wrist in the mattress, and her free hand reached gripping his hoodie.

"It tickles—" she cried, though her body failed her, and humped into him.

Gezza suddenly thrust three fingers inside her. Her walls were tight, throbbing and avaricious, sucking him in.

She held on to his hoodie like a rope, knuckles white, breath hitching into a whimpering scream.

Gezza went in deeper, his three fingers tightening within her, his knuckles greasy.

Her walls shuddered, as they chased the delight. He stroked slow, methodical circles; she bit her lip until it flushed, and eyes rolled white.

"Fuckk--"

His hand slipped away with a wet noise. "Never promise what you can not deal with next time".

"Don't be a big shot," she whimped, voice wasted.

Gezza's grin flashed sharp. He rolled her over, on her back; the bed frame rustled as if it were going to break. She turned around to look behind her, plastered strands of hair to her cheek. "Finally put it in me."

Not done tasting, he thought.

He grabbed her hips and opened her. Her butt was glossy, flushed and flawless. "Looks fucking good", he told himself. Then he licked—one long, dirty stripe across her hole.

"That's not--"

Her outcry broke into a moan. "Argh--yess--"

He plowed his face, tongue round, persistent.

The tongue of Gezza continued to work, slow and dirty, tracing the tight ring of muscle till he could feel it twitching under his mouth.

Pulling up just far enough to inhale her—fuck, that smell. Not clean, not perfumed. Raw.

The acute musky smell of sweat and skin lingering too long in the heat melted with the slight salt of her cunt dripping still. It struck against the back of his neck, wild, hers.

Nothing sweet, only the rankishness of a body thrust above mince.

He groaned into her, the groan shivering against her hole. "Smells like you have been bad, Nah," voice rough. " you've been looking forward to this".

Still, she whimpered and pushed back, her thighs trembling. "Don't--don't stop--"

He didn't. He stretched her apart, thumbs urected in the softness of her cheeks, and pulled his tongue down further, licking the wetness that had collected there.

Then retract, probing inside, just the tip, and feeling the sting of her. It was a choked sound, which tore out of her throat.

Relax, he growled and one hand trailed along her spine and sank her into the mattress with her chest. "Let me in."

She did. Slowly. The muscle yielded, enough his tongue to enter her, and he sensed it—the jerking, the opposition, how her body resisted and gave in.

He was screwing her with one, shallow strokes, wet and sick, and the smell increased with each forceful contact. Darker. As sex and shame and want together bind.

I will destroy this ass, he thought and tugged backward to spit in her hole, and watched it shine. "Gonna make it remember me."

She moaned, torn and desperate, with flailing fingers. "Please--please--"

He slipped a finger in with his tongue, slow and elongating her. The smell struck him more now--fresh, dirty, hers--and he buried his face again, sucking around his own finger, tasting of her still deeper.

She trembled, moving her hips about, her voice turned to no more than gasps and curses.

He wasn't done. Not even close.

Gezza jerked the finger out with a viscous pop, her opening closing up with nothing.

He leaned back on his heels, pulled his hoodie and unzipped his jeans.

His cock lunged out heavy and aching, flushed dark and leaking at the tip.

He spit in his palm, rub-a-dubbed himself one, two, three, and all his inches gleamed. The room now reeked of them, of sweat and cunt and the acrid musk of her ass still in his mouth.

Stay down," he said, Lowly. He moved his cock-head to her hole, not pushing it in, only lingering there, making her experience the pressure, the heat, the weight. Her breath came in with shudders.

"Gez--"

"Shh." He bent over her with one hand pressed against her side, the other searching. "You want it, you take it."

He pushed. Slow. The hole was strickening round, And then yielded--a little.

Her gasp was accompanied by twisting her fingers on the sheets.

He didn't stop. An inch more, the agony of it whining in her, sharp and fractured.

He could feel her fluttering around him, trying to push him out, trying to pull him in.

"Fu—fuck" she choked.

He went deeper, steadily, relentlessly, till he hit her ass, and was covered to the root.

The passion was mad—squeezy, satin, off in the best sense. He remained motionless, letting her adjust, letting the burn settle into something else.

"Move, move", she said her voice shredded. "Please—"

He pulled away, eased, her hole clinging to him, and banged in.

The bed-frame smashed against the wall. She screamed into the mattress raw and smothered. He did it again. Again. Harder.

The slam of flesh against flesh smote the room as wet and dirty, her arse welcoming him home as though it were meant.

He reached below her, hands on her clit, circling it roughly. She jerked, tightening around him, and he grumbled, "That's it—milk my cock with your ass."

She came—sudden, violent, body locking up, sobbing his name. He didn't stop. He continued to fuck her through it, through the after shocks, until her legs fell out and she was only trembling mass under them.

He dragged out slow, and her hole opened, red and ruined, gleaming with spit and with cum. He stroke himself once, twice and cummed across her back in heavy hot streaks.

"Next time, I will not stop at one", he panted, falling beside her.

---

Hours later.

He sat on the edge of the bed, the erection finally soothing, the pain subsiding into a dim throb.

Marie was sprawled in the sheets, with half-lidded eyes playing back each thrust. There was that faint, primal musk lingering in the room.

Sweat, sex, vanilla gone feral.

Gezza got back on hands and knees crawling on the mattress.

He sat down against her, and with face in the warmness of her breasts. She drew him near, fingers twisted in his wet hair, petting.

"That was fucking good", she said, voice heavy, a smile in it.

"Damn right," mumbled Gezza, and the haze tore open. The reason he had come here, besides collectment of her promise, struck him afresh.

He put his head out of her breast, perspiration drying his flesh.

"I remember, Marie."

She blinked, still floaty. "What?"

"I had a damn dream."

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