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A well hung guy forces him to take a bad deal.

"Just keep doing what you were doing before," I instructed. "Keep it up, exactly as before. Just let my hands come along for the ride."

She huffed her indignation, but she continued to obey. I let the fingers of my right hand snake down upon hers, gently falling upon the fingers she used to play with her sex, riding atop them but not guiding them. And my left hand cupped over hers, cupping over her hand as she held it upon her breast, feeling her as she felt herself.

Soon she settled back into rhythm, continuing to treat herself gently and kindly, as instructed. Her ire kept on fading as her pleasure started to build, and she was starting to give herself over to the pure, simple, unadulterated joy of a slow-boiling orgasm. As I stood behind her with my hands riding hers, I looked over her shoulder to watch her face, watching as it slowly and surely transformed from a mask of hateful harshness into something softer, gentler, pure and natural and beautiful - the face of a woman in pleasure.

Her orgasm was coming quicker now. With very gentle guidance from my fingers, her ministrations were becoming stronger. Her fingers pressed a little harder on her spot, swirling about and around and over her gorging clit just a little faster, and with my fingers riding atop hers I could feel her moisture building and flowing as it rode up over her fingers onto mine.

And as we worked together to serve her pleasure, I could see in her face that her resistance was falling away, strip by strip and piece by piece. Her eyes were closed now, her face was slack, her mouth open and breathing sharply as her head fell back slightly - and now her pleasure had found her voice, she could not withhold little moans and groans as she built and built towards her peak.

I had been waiting for this stage, waiting for her voice to chime in. I had decided beforehand, that it was the point I would become more involved. I let my fingers slide off of hers, to land among them, upon her clit - she seized up a little, as expected, but with some force I kept her going, I intertwined my fingers with hers and kept us moving upon her, moving about on her hardening little clit, slipping up and down deep within her lips and teasing out the softly-grasping shallow depths of her cunt.

She was getting there now. She was coming up on the brink. Her moans and groans grew louder, more urgent - I could tell she was totally given over now, she was ready for it, she was ready to come. I am nothing if not an obliging lover: I worked for it now, I grasped her fingers amongst mine and we worked for it, we circled and massaged her glorious moistened depths, rubbing and stroking, rubbing and stroking. And as she was dragged inexorably towards the precipice I watched her face, beautiful and soft, abandoned and feminine, eyes closed, lips open, moaning and groaning with exponentiating urgency...

And she came. She came with a quiet shout of release, and she kept coming as we kept working at her without pause, her head fell right back to land upon my shoulder as I stayed behind her with my bulging cock pressing through my trousers into her bared buttock, and she let loose with a series of wondrous, utterly uninhibited gasping cries as her orgasm surged and surged and surged, until eventually we slowed down, we very gradually let the pace drop away and her orgasm surged and receded, surged and receded like the tides, until finally she fell away from the peak and leaned back into my arms, exhausted and content.

I knew what would come if I let her repose for too long. No-Vadge would return, her face would lose its beatific sheen, it would harden up and become spiteful and harsh once again. I didn't want that, I wouldn't let that happen, so I sought to maintain her distraction.

"Okay: strip me. Get my clothes off," I ordered.

It worked.

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