There was no longer a sense of time, no longer a sense of anything beyond the pleasure of her body, of her cries. When she fell forward, his hands mapped her form, running along her sides, up her back, down her arms. He touched and painted her, painted her body with his fingertips, then fucked her again, over and over and over. And when he thought she could take no more... He flipped her back over, onto her back, and fucked her more, only now...
