With each passing stroke, the feeling became stronger, and I felt like I may explode. That was the best feeling ever. There were whimpers coming out of my lips. I attempted immobility, but Carl eliminated that possibility by thrusting his middle finger into my gut all the way to the knuckle.
I got off the bed and said, "Fuck."
To which he responded by shoving me back down with a firm hand on my belly. He stared directly at me, his expression serious. "Stop wriggling around," his eyes pleaded. But I just couldn't help myself. My hips undulated in time with his movements as he pounded his thick finger in and out of me, making it smoother with each delectable push. It couldn't be stopped. When my body was in control, I was nothing more than a servant. An observer of this madly beautiful journey.