He Picked Up The Girl

The pain is still there, but so is the pleasure. I'm writing in his arms, but now I'm fighting myself as well. His thrusts get harder, deeper, and I'm screaming from the unbearable intensity. 

The pain and the pleasure mix, until they're indistinguishable from one another—until I exist in a world of pure, overwhelming sensation. And then I explode, the orgasm ripping through my body with such force that my vision darkens for a moment.

Suddenly, I can hear him groaning against my ear and feel him getting even thicker and longer inside me. His cock is pulsing and jerking deep within me, and I know that he found his release as well.

In the aftermath, he rolls off me and gathers me to him, holding me close.

And I cry in his arms, seeking solace from the very person who is the cause of my pleasurable tears.

Afterwards, my mind is foggy, and my thoughts are strangely jumbled. He carries me somewhere, and I lie limply in his arms, like a rag doll.