Don't Cum Inside
"Don't cum inside!"
How much time had passed? When I finally managed to lift my heavy eyelids and come back to myself, the sunlight beyond the window had deepened into a richer red. Startled, I checked the clock and found more than an hour had already slipped by; late afternoon was nearly upon us. The silence of the unfamiliar hotel room felt distant, dreamlike, beneath the ceiling.
I turned my head. There she lay, sunk in the deepest sleep, her face the purest thing in the world. Wearing only a bra, the youthful curves of her body rested against the white sheets, catching the lingering afternoon light until they seemed almost luminous. Exhaustion had claimed her completely; her lips parted slightly as she breathed in steady rhythm, and she even snored—tiny, soft sounds that were devastatingly cute.
The wet traces of her that had soaked my face and slid down my fingertips only moments before drifted back through my mind. The sweat that had glittered like jewels, the slender fingers that had tried to push me away, and at last the hot, accepting pulse of her body. Looking down at the peaceful face of the sleeping girl, the instinct I had thought submerged stirred again and lifted its head.
I had believed the drowsiness of the nap had drained every ounce of strength from me. Yet the mere presence of this girl beside me was enough to make that part of me swell and tighten once more.
My hand found the panties that had fallen beneath the bed, still marked with clear wet stains. I brought them to my nose and drew a deep breath; her scent, thick and sticky, rushed into me. For an instant the old, forbidden thrill returned—the New Year’s visit to a relative’s house, the pounding of my own heart as I had secretly opened a cousin’s drawer and touched and smelled the underwear inside. Spellbound, I lowered my head again toward the place between her sleeping legs.
There, between thighs left defenseless and open, I saw the traces of our earlier fierceness still clinging to her. The soft pink petals, slightly swollen and glistening, looked almost wilted yet remained unspeakably lovely. With careful fingers I parted the folds.
Earlier I had been too lost in the heat and the moment to look properly. Now, facing the vivid, precious place of a girl just turned twenty, the lust I had forced down surged upward again until the blood roared in my ears. Dried saliva and her own fluids left a sharp, musky scent, but the fact that this carefully groomed, smooth place lay completely open and unguarded before me was enough to drive me mad.
So gently that she would not wake, I let the tip of my tongue slide down the cleft and simply watched the sensual sight. With one hand I gripped my own rigid length—already so hard it felt ready to burst—and began to stroke. Each time I licked and sucked, the salty-sweet taste filled my mouth and my hand moved faster of its own accord. Whether it was my saliva or her body responding even in sleep, clear fluid began to trickle again from the entrance that had closed, wetting my lips.
The thirst was explosive; I could wait no longer. I tore open the condom I had set aside earlier and rolled it on quickly. With the thin rubber sheathing me, I pressed the head against her wet entrance and rubbed. It was less raw than bare skin, yet the slick lubricant on the condom mixed with her juices and let me slip inside with almost no resistance.
"Ah—!"
In that instant her eyes flew wide open. She drew a sharp breath, startled by the sudden presence inside her. Our bodies were locked together; time itself seemed to stop. Startled, I froze and met her gaze.
"Does it hurt?"
I could not bring myself to say I would pull out. Through the thin membrane of the condom I felt the hot, living pulse of her walls against me. Contrary to any expectation of pain, she was already opened perfectly by my earlier attention; her face only twisted as she panted for air.
"Should I pull out?"
I asked again, carefully. Half-asleep, she kept her eyes nearly closed and simply breathed hard. At last her trembling voice came.
"What… is this situation?"
There was no excuse. I could only murmur, low and guilty.
"If it hurts, I’ll take it out right away."
Even as I spoke the words, I could not let go of the feeling. I moved my hips the slightest bit. The moment my length filled and shifted inside her, she suddenly locked both arms around mine and trembled from head to toe. It was not a push to drive me away; I knew at once it was the instinctive cling of someone feeling, for the first time, a fullness that did not hurt.
The certainty that she was not refusing gave me courage. Slowly, as deeply as I could, I pushed back into the body that no longer tried to expel me.
"Haa…!"
Her open-mouthed gasping was so provocative I simply took her lips. Earlier she had drawn a clear line—no kissing—yet now, reason gone, she sucked at my tongue with wild hunger.
I watched every reaction and kept the pace deliberate. I moved as though handling something precious, determined that this first deep penetration would not become terror again. Each time the tip of me brushed the deepest wall inside her, the fine tremors and heat of her body traveled up my length and into my skull.
"Ah… Mister… hhnn…"
She buried her face against my shoulder and made soft, pained sounds. I nipped the lobe of her ear and savored the way that narrow, scorching passage gradually accepted and softened around me. Gently, more gently still—like coaxing a child—I slid in and withdrew to the very end. The pelvis that trauma had locked began to loosen, answering my rhythm with small, rising movements of its own.
"Haa… Does it still hurt? How does it feel?"
Instead of answering she only clung tighter to my back and nodded. Her entrance was already a slick mess of my precum, her own juices, and the condom’s lubricant. Every thrust drew wet, airy sounds that filled the room with something shameless.
When her moans thinned into softer threads, I began to raise the intensity. I abandoned the long, slow strokes and started driving in short, sharp thrusts aimed at the most sensitive place.
"Ah! Ahh! Mister, wait—!"
The sudden change made her twist in panic, but I did not stop. I spread her legs wider, lifted them over my shoulders, and put my full weight into each deep press. The patient ease of an adult vanished; in its place rose the rough instinct of an animal.
Slap. Slap.
The sheets crumpled. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room. The faster I moved, the more her moans stretched and broke until they bordered on cries. Her eyes lost focus and stared at the ceiling; her lips hung open, gasping.
"It feels so good… Aaa, Mister…!"
Her sweet voice was the spark. Reason left me completely; I began to thrust like a beast. The bed frame shook; the wet collisions hammered against my eardrums. Suddenly her back arched like a drawn bow and the muscles inside her clamped down so hard they seemed ready to break me. She screamed and shook all over; the crushing pressure sent pleasure flooding through me until my mind felt as if it were melting.
The urge to come rose so high it reached my throat and the truth slipped out.
"Ah, it’s too good… I’m gonna cum."
I tried to hold back, tried to slow my hips—yet the instant she heard the rough confession, terror flooded her eyes. Lost in pleasure one second earlier, the single word “cum” snapped her wide awake.
"No! You can’t cum inside!"
She screamed and began shoving at my shoulders. Instinctive fear of pregnancy must have seized her; she thrashed and tried desperately to pull her hips away. I could have told her not to worry because of the condom, but in that moment I did not want to speak. I only wanted to savor a little longer the dizzy edge where her fear and pleasure tangled.
Instead I pinned her slender body harder beneath my weight. I locked my hands around her thighs so she could not escape and drove deeper, all the way to the end. The friction heat through the thin rubber climbed toward its peak.
"Haa—too deep!"
Her voice was almost a sob as she shook her head.
"Inside… you can’t… please…!"
Even her desperate pleas reached my ears only as the sweetest moans. Relentlessly I ground into every corner. At the crest I crushed her against me and, hips jerking wildly, poured out every last drop inside her.
I felt the hot fluid fill the condom in sharp detail. She clung to my neck and trembled through another climax of her own.
When nothing remained, I collapsed onto her. The room was thick with heat and moisture; only our ragged breathing moved through it. For a long time she lay shaking beneath me. Once the trembling eased she suddenly shoved me hard away.
"Haa… haa…"
Without even sweeping the sweat-soaked hair from her face she reached down in panic to check herself. The slippery mix of overflowing juices and lubricant met her fingers and she startled, then checked me again. Only when she confirmed the white sheath still covering me did she glare at me with a voice thick with tears.
"I thought you came inside!"
The earlier terror had turned to wounded resentment; she began pounding my chest with small clenched fists. She looked ready to burst into tears like a child, and the sight was so pitiful and lovely I pulled her straight back into my arms.
"I’m sorry… I’m sorry. I was being a little mean, wasn’t I?"
She sniffled against my chest for a long while before the storm seemed to pass. Face still buried, she whispered,
"It felt so good… but… you really scared me."
We stayed like that, silent, simply sharing warmth. The peace that followed the storm was sweeter than any noon meal.
"Let’s wash up together now, okay?"
I kissed her damp cheek lightly and drew her to her feet. The back that walked toward the bathroom looked more beautiful and mature than the first time I had seen it. Under the warm spray we washed each other, stretching the afterglow of that dreamlike afternoon a little longer.
