It was a scene out of a bad romance movie. Two lovers cropped close with their lips locked and lost in the serenity of each other's sweet passion. Slow movements, deliberate yet soft. Two sets of soft, lush red pillows quietly colliding and swirling around as if suspended in liquid and swirling around in a random dance. Then the frame pans out just as slow and you can see violent activity in the background. Flashes and then rapid streaks across the air in the near distance. Fiery heat and a tail of violence rapidly flying by. Repeatedly. Rapidly. The juxtaposition of love and war.
Except this was real. And I broke the kiss with the smile the crept up while our lips were seeking each other out. I smiled because this was exactly what I wanted. He finally just. let. it. go.
I'm talking about "the cop" that keeps on shielding his vigorous and copious cumshots playing with me, trying to contain the chaos of power that's released from his meat. He finally listened to me and just let himself get lost in the orgasm, letting the white liquid heat boil over and fire without restraint. I could almost feel the violence ripple past as it sliced through the air with a blunt edge and my face was singed from a couple droplets that landed on my cheek. The first missile left a long solid trail down his chest and shrapnel all over my pillows and sheets. The energy from his pulsing cock fanned out down to his toes and wrecked his body with convulsions that reached his head when I broke out into that smile. Aftershocks when I didn't let go and gave his lifesource a couple more strokes.
I missed most of it. My eyes were half closed as we made out through most of it. But I still felt it. And we both looked at each other knowing this was different than the other times. I broke off the gaze, lapped up some cum, and snowballed it back to him. What started as sweet roses ended with an oink.