Intensity
credits: Dollar Photo Club

Intensity

The couch was covered by somewhat dense foam, the fabric’s color was quite vulgar, and some spots were worn off. On the stove in the kitchen a hot drink made with local brandy rested abandoned, and the blankets that disorderly inhabited the couch didn’t actually smell of roses, but Rebecca wasn’t impressed by any of it. She hadn’t even realized how small the loft was, or the smell of cheap fat on some of the walls. The only quality thing in there was the music – Pearl Jam’s famous ‘Black’ was playing.


Nothing mattered there but the music and the bodies making out without considering the word modesty. After all, when surrounded by walls, everything is valid. That was Bernard’s motto, and he sweated more and more every time Rebecca climaxed. She moaned like there was no tomorrow.

His tongue danced in the rhythm of ‘Black’, and while the powerful vocal increased intensity, Bernard danced between the legs of the lady he had met two years ago in a rock concert. The more daring the song became, the more strength the man applied to foreplay, and Rebecca was very pleased indeed.

He had already tied her hands in order to hear her moan, and for her to have her body shaken by the sequential pleasure. Bernard had slowly reached the big window with one of his hands, tying her to it in a knot made with a technique which was a mix of violence and gentleness. Rebecca enjoyed her time as a submissive, with the other arm tied to the door knob.

Bernard held her dark long hair with scathing violence, licking the parts composing her face, like a feline. He then pulled her hair, alternating aggressiveness and caring. Even when she tried doing something, being the active part even for a second, there was neither time nor space.

Bernard didn’t speak, He didn’t produce a single syllable, He kept his tongue busy at all times. For him, listening to Rebecca’s moans was incredible. She had told him once that he was addicted to oral sex, and he agreed. Sheila Alves, his childhood friend, also knew Bernard was a rare thing.

During these meetings with Rebecca, he spent hours between her legs, only penetrating her when she couldn’t take any longer, only after she was desperate, hoarse, sweaty, totally in his hands.

He loved giving that woman’s pleasure. She corresponded when possible, with a kiss, a smell, a behavior… but she was the prey, no doubt. His prey. And Bernard, the passionate wolf. After he penetrated her, he would only stop when the music was over. They spent hours having sex, always in sync with Pearl Jam.




Nanda Coelho



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