Chapter 5: Ginger Tea Flavor
Both were on the verge of exploding. The perfect foreplay had pushed their desires to a climax, making every muscle tremble. Now it was time for the main act, where the flesh would speak, where instinct would take over.
Ngan pulled him down on top of her. His hard cock rubbed between her thighs, hot and promising, like a fire stick searching for a cave. Her voice was urgent, hoarse with desire, like the moan of a female animal in heat. “Come in… I want… Hurry… Don’t torture me anymore…”
Son was about to thrust in, but then he stopped. A moment of responsibility, a last ray of reason flashed through the madness of desire. He gasped, his chest heaving. “Wait… wait for me a moment… Condom…” He crawled up, his gait a little unsteady because of his erection, looking for the wallet thrown in the corner of the room. The dry sound of tearing the condom wrapper rang out, tearing the silence, a naked sound that broke all romance, but was full of stimulation.
He put it in and turned around. Ngan was already lying there, her legs spread wide, inviting, like a flower blooming to welcome butterflies and bees. He knelt between her legs, placing the head of his penis at the already wet, hot entrance, feeling the softness and wetness that surrounded it. He slowly pushed in, millimeter by millimeter, like an invader probing new territory. A tight, hot feeling, even though separated by a thin membrane, was still enough to burn all the senses. He entered until he was completely submerged, a deep, thick “slurp” sound rang out. They both let out a sigh, a sigh of release and union, an instinctive fusion where two bodies became one.
Son began to move. Slowly at first, deep and steady. Each thrust was a probing one. A soft, suppressed “ah…” escaped Ngan’s lips. Her back arched slightly. In response to that sound, a deep growl rumbled from his chest, a confirmation of a predator finding its target.
The rhythm became faster and stronger. The sound of skin slapping against each other “bang”, “smack” due to the wetness. The old wooden bed began to creak sadly.
“Ah… that’s right… that’s right! Right there!” – Ngan moaned, her voice torn with each breath.
Her compliment was like a stimulant. He leaned down, his voice hoarse, and whispered into her ear: “Do you like it? Your pussy is sucking my cock so tightly. Moan loudly for me to hear…”
“So good…so good…Son…” – she replied, wrapping her legs around his hips, squeezing tightly.
All control was gone. The rhythm became frantic, thrusts of pure instinct. Ngan’s nails dug into his back, leaving long scratches.
Her voice was no longer words, but a hoarse command, torn by each panting breath: “Harder… please… Fuck this bitch to death!”
He responded with a thrust that reached the very depths of her womb, his voice growling possessively: “My bitch! Look at me fuck you! I’m about to cum inside you!”
The final thrusts became frantic, out of control. Ngan’s back arched as far as it could like a bow. A scream tore through the silence, lasting until there was no more air in his chest, his name torn apart in the screams: “SON… A… A… AH…!”
At the same time, he roared like a wounded beast, every muscle in his body tensing as he thrust in one last time, releasing all his hot energy deep inside her.
The storm cleared. He collapsed on top of her, heavily. Silence fell, broken only by the panting of their bodies. She buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking.
“…I’m dying…” – she whispered, but couldn’t finish her sentence.
He stroked her hair, his voice hoarse with exhaustion: “…it’s me.”
The storm had reached its climax. The energy in the room was as taut as a bowstring, waiting for one final blow to break it, for everything to melt into nothingness.
Son’s thrusts became frantic, out of control, like a wild animal rushing at its last prey, without any reason left. The sound of flesh hitting each other “bang thump”, “lip smack” echoed throughout the room, mixed with the pounding of both their hearts, like a primitive symphony. The old wooden bed creaked mournfully with each thrust, each withdrawal and entry, like a lament of matter before the madness of desire. He roared like a wild animal, a roar of ultimate release, gave one last deep thrust and collapsed on Ngan, her body convulsing violently as she ejaculated, each muscle tensing and then softening. The hot, thick stream of semen shot deep inside her, filling the condom, a complete possession, an indelible mark. His explosion was the final catalyst. Her entire body tightened, convulsing violently, her vaginal muscles squeezing his cock, as if wanting to hold him forever, not letting him escape. She let out a long, high, sharp scream, no longer a word but a release of pure energy, her eyes closed, her head thrown back, completely surrendering to the orgasm, an ultimate release, a sweet destruction, where pleasure and pain merged into one. “SON… A… A… Ah…!”
And then, the storm passed.
Silence suddenly fell, leaving only the two people’s panting, heavy and urgent. Son was still lying on top of her, heavy. The smell of sweat, sex and rubber mixed together, a distinctive scent of satisfaction, thick in the cold air.
He pulled out, the condom bulging with white semen. He got up, walking a little unsteadily, carefully removed it, crumpled it in a tissue, and threw it in the trash. The action was so matter-of-fact and naked, it ruined all the romance.
They lay next to each other, saying nothing. Son wrapped his arms around Ngan. She rested her head on his strong chest, listening to his heartbeat slowing down. Her hand gently rested on his stomach, feeling every muscle still trembling slightly.
“Are you… okay?” he whispered, his voice hoarse and exhausted.
Ngan smiled softly, her voice equally tired. She lifted her head a little and kissed his chest lightly.
“Never been better.”