FREE USE in Primitive World

Chapter 112: Chapter 112: Pretzel And Spoon

It was The Pretzel, one of the best sex positions (at least in his opinion)

It twisted her body, opening her up like a wishbone, but keeping them face-to-face. It offered the depth of doggy style but with the intimacy of a lover’s embrace.

Sol slid inside.

The angle was wicked. It hit the side walls of her vagina, spots that hadn’t been touched yet.

“Mmm…” Evara moaned, a low, guttural sound. “That… that hits a spot…”

Sol leaned forward, resting his weight on his elbows so his face was inches from hers. He kissed her deeply, tasting his own sweat on her lips.

“You like this?” he murmured against her mouth. “Wrapped around me like a vine?”

“It feels… full,” she whispered, her hands roaming over his back, scratching lightly. “Like a knot.”

But Sol wasn’t done. The position left his hands free.

He withdrew his cock almost all the way, holding the base with his left hand. He began to rub the broad, wet head of his penis against her clitoris.

Evara gasped, her eyes flying open. “Sol! No, that’s sensitive!”

“I know,” he grinned.

He didn’t enter. He just rubbed. Up and down. Circling the swollen nub with the velvet head of his cock, using her own juices as lube. It was a torture of pleasure.

“Please…” she begged, hips bucking, trying to impale herself on him. “Put it in! Don’t tease!”

“Not yet.”

He reached down with his hand, replacing his cock with his thumb. He pressed gently on her clitoris, circling it, while he finally thrust his hips forward, burying his shaft inside her.

The dual stimulation broke her.

“AHHHH! YES! YES!”

She screamed into his mouth as he kissed her again. The friction of the thrusts combined with the manual pressure on her clit created a blended orgasm that rolled through her like a thunderstorm. She clamped her leg tighter around his waist, trapping him.

Sol rode the wave with her. He ground into her, feeling the Vitality surging. It was different this time… sweeter, hotter. The intimacy of the position, the way they were tangled together, opened a deeper channel. He felt his mind sharpening even further, as if his soul was integrating with the woman’s life force.

“You’re mine,” he whispered into her ear as she twitched around him. “Every inch. Every drop.”

“Yours,” she sobbed, burying her face in his neck. “I’m yours, Sol.”

As her tremors subsided, Sol shifted. He didn’t pull out. He simply rolled them both until they were lying on their sides, Evara’s back pressed against his chest.

It was the classic Spoon, a position of comfort and sleep. But Sol wasn’t sleeping.

“Rest,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “Just feel me.”

Evara sighed, relaxing back against him. “It feels good… just being held.”

“Does it?” Sol asked.

He lifted her top leg and draped it backward over his hip.

The Open-Legged Spoon.

This small adjustment changed everything. It tilted her pelvis, opening her up for deeper access while keeping the intimacy of the spoon. But more importantly, it left her entire front exposed to his hands.

Sol began to thrust. Slow. Rhythmic. Lazy.

He reached around her body. His large hand covered her breast, squeezing the soft flesh, pinching the nipple until it hardened again.

“You really are insatiable,” Evara murmured, but she leaned back into the thrusts, seeking more friction.

“And you’re wet again,” Sol noted.

He moved his hand down, sliding it over her flat stomach, tangling his fingers in her bush. He found her clitoris again.

Evara flinched. “Sol… it’s too much… I can’t cum again…”

“Shh,” he whispered in her ear. “Don’t think about cumming. Just feel.”

He began to play with her. He teased her lips, tugging on them gently. He circled her clit with a feather-light touch, alternating with heavy, deep thrusts from behind.

The contrast was maddening. The slow, deep penetration anchored her, while his fingers drove her nerves wild.

He leaned close to her ear, his breath hot. He began to whisper things… filthy, taboo things that no respectable man in the tribe would say.

“You know what the elders would say if they saw you?” Sol whispered, his voice laced with the Ash-Grey Command.

“They’d say you look like a beast in heat. Leg cocked up. Taking it from behind.”

Evara whimpered. “Don’t…”

“But you like it,” Sol pressed. “You like being my bitch. You like feeling me hitting your womb while I play with your pussy.”

“Yes…” she cried out, the taboo shattering her resistance. “Yes! I’m a bitch! I love it!”

The shame, converted into lust, acted as a supercharger. Evara began to grind back against him, her hips snapping with a renewed energy. The Vitality she released was thick and heavy, fueled by her total psychological surrender.

Sol drank it in. He felt his muscles knitting, expanding. He felt invincible.

He thrust harder, his hand moving faster on her clit. Evara was crying and laughing, lost in a delirium of pleasure.

“That’s it,” Sol growled, biting her neck. “Give me everything.”

She came with a long, drawn-out wail, her body shaking so hard it vibrated against his.

Evara lay panting, her skin slick with sweat. But as the aftershocks faded, something shifted in the air.

The Ash-Grey Energy Sol had been pumping into her wasn’t just stimulating her; it was altering her baseline. She had tasted the peak of pleasure, and now, the silence was unbearable. The hunger returned, sharper than before.

She rolled over, breaking the spoon, and pushed Sol onto his back.

“You think you’re the master?” she panted, crawling over him. Her eyes were blazing. “You think you can just break me and leave me?”

Evara was no longer the passive recipient of Sol’s whims. The Ash-Grey Energy had done its work too well; it had stripped away the layers of widowhood, of propriety, of hesitation, revealing the starving creature beneath.

She looked down at his cock… still semi-hard, refusing to go down thanks to the constant influx of energy.

“It’s not time to rest yet, extinguish the fire you have started.”