Mirjams adult chat
she crooned back to him, and so ended the civility of their dialogue for the next several minutes as they spoke to each other, at and over each other, in expletive barks and slurs and fractured declarations of raw want realized - coaxing, cajoling, each building on the other's last vulgarity, exclaiming the exquisite filth of their desires for one another, their voices ringing off the walls and out the window and all but inaudible from the street four floors below.Whirling shouts of you/me this and give/take that - speech coherent only in the context of lovemaking or warmongering - their flurried verbiage culminated when George felt the warm, warning roar of near-orgasm within his loins, and he told Maggie that he was finally about to come.Without discussion they'd decided on the same bistro, the same heavy food, and as they ate she was pleased that rather than having cooked the meal she had at least figured considerably into his improved appetite. And relishing their deceit of all humanity, they paid their bill and stole away from the restaurant and into the limo that they had unnecessarily had parked hidden in back, slowly climbing over-around-and-again-over each other sealed within the confines of the backseat, the car doors closed about them and the gravel parking lot crunching under the tires as the limousine lumbered onto the asphalt road, wrestling gently, their quiet play novel given that they both knew, fully clothed and this time well in advance of the act, that sex between them tonight would happen as legitimate lovers would anticipate, this moment unbeknownst to either of them as an unnerving celebration of the twenty hour anniversary of when George was first infinitely inside Maggie and she was trying to catch her breath so she could then spend the ensuing forty seconds piteously suppressing a cry to him to stop, it still doesn't fit.
and she left him in the doorway to go finish dressing, closing her bedroom door behind her.and she then happily belched a hot fume of wine & garlic in his face."While you're so generously ingesting my seed - fruitlessly spent up your butt or down your throat - when do you mean to get pregnant? George said and Maggie looked at him for a long moment, silently, now her truths indefensible. she asked after a time, thumping his knee with her fist.On the far wall, she saw their play-rape artfully framed and reflected in full in the mirror across the room and she watched their bodies move in tandem, his pole alternately laid bare then buried big back up her rump, she leisurely meeting his lengths, his lines leveraging and her curves swaying, their forms beautifully functioning together - a surreal brew she immersed herself in as both voyeur and participant. and resting her head again, she watched their incestuous harmony in the mirror for another minute before George, realigning his aim into her, inadvertently knelt on the stereo's remote that had been lost between the sofa's seat cushions. she rallied, and so they randomly, discordantly, parried back and forth, song after bastardized song - a steely, don'tch-ya-need-me-heyhey-oooyeah free-fall bridge, then a bitch/tease goddess-on-her-knees riff - and fucking with renewed vigor until the radio played one of their own songs and they serenely slipped mutually, heartfelt into their own music, singing, serenading in innuendo along with themselves together to one another a lyric, ethereal groove from their earlier days that they had written - each secretly regarding the other - about the peacefulness of familiar love and, conspiratorially, how that might be in the wake of familial sex.Aware of a dull, vague ache of her sphincter muscle, she readjusted her stance and tried in earnest to further relax and accept, envelop even, George's penetrating tonnage and this private little pain - and the math, the imagery - that hurt so good she giggled, and she looked over her shoulder to watch his face until he looked up from his work of her and met her eyes, seeing her grinning at him brightly, knowingly. he smiled back at her, blushing, despite everything, and she laughed. The radio pre-set suddenly lit up and the room swelled with low volume lite-rock and Maggie began to hum and then quietly sing to her brother about how she as well could feel the earth - move - under her feet, feeling the sky tum-ba-lin' down, a-tum-ba-lin' down. George groaned, listening to his sister solicit him: "' - I've just got to have ya, baay-beh'"? A pause in the action, and then the room went silent, their fucky-lovemaking as suddenly void of music as if they'd both gone stone deaf.
She felt her brother still huge and invasive inside her, a plowing, cylindrical enormity crowding her aft-cache replete beyond his actual dimensions, his pubic stubble prickling, and Maggie laid her face again alongside the upholstery between her grips of the sofa back.