Strap On With A New Lover

She’s small, sure, but packed with muscle. Lora Cross fights the cuffs. I just keep driving the strap-on into her like the fight turns me on. Every buck of her hips makes the harness slap. Then the harness gives out. The toy pops free. I drop the useless thing and slide two fingers in, slow at first, then deeper, curling till she swears under her breath. Her little body jerks. I don’t let up. My other hand pins her wrist. Sweat rolls down my chest; the thin leotard strains, damp, stretched so tight it barely hides a thing. I push harder with my fingers. She arches, curses, comes around them. I watch, catch my own breath, and keep going.