Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

inexperienced, giving me a whole other set of issues to worry about.
But it’s so hard to care when she feels like heaven on fucking earth. Like
a goddess coming down just to save my wretched soul from damnation.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, a faint blush creeping over her pretty cheeks.
“Christ, what are you apologizing for?” I can barely edge the words out,
her pussy gripping me so tight I see stars. My hands clamp down on her hips,
hopping on for the ride.
“I’m... this is all new to me, and I don’t want to mess it up.”
“You can’t,” I say, biting my lip as she starts to slam down harder,
apparently finding that spot that makes her body sing. “Keep that up, and I’m
going to blow in you before I’m ready.”
“Oh, shit,” she mewls, arching her back, her inner walls fluttering. “You
say that... like it’s supposed to be a bad thing, but it sounds... really good to
me.”
“My slutty little wife likes making me lose control, hm?”
Nodding, her hand finds one of mine, bringing it up and locking it around
the column of her throat, the counterclockwise swirl of her hips drawing
electricity to my balls. They seize up, my orgasm barreling through me, and I
squeeze her neck at the same time her pussy spasms, unable to stave off any
longer.
Splotches of white flash across my vision as I release as deep inside her
as I can get, the pulse of her pussy sucking me dry. She drops her head to my
neck, sinking her teeth into the skin on a groan, biting down until she breaks
through the barrier.
Lapping her tongue along my neck, she pulls back, sealing her lips to
mine in a kiss that brings me to the brink of salvation, before stealing it away.
I taste copper on the back of her teeth and almost come again, without any
extra stimulation.
Later, when she falls limp against me, cradling her head on my chest
while she waits for the feeling to return to her legs, I feel that familiar sense
of foreboding from before, although now it has an entirely new target.