Restored to Love Read Online Free PDF

Man knew nothing of soft, sweet lovemaking, the kind where you gazed into each other’s eyes and whispered endearments as you stroked and teased each other; this was something primal, lust at its most basic and immediate. The coming together of hard cock and hot, wet cunt; the only outcome fast, explosive orgasm.
    He pressed up against her rump, cockhead nudging at her hole, demanding admittance. Melinda moaned, pushing back at him, needing to have that huge, virile thing inside her. For a moment, it didn’t seem as though the bulbous crown could possibly fit in her tight channel, then he gave a forceful shove and she felt him enter her. ‘Fuck, it’s too big,’ she heard herself groan, but he kept pushing and somehow her cunt kept finding room for him. She was as crammed with cock as she had ever been in her life; if it had been Ryan’s dick, she’d have been able to feel his body tight up against her, his balls slapping against her as they fucked, but this man hadn’t even managed to get two-thirds of his length inside her.
    The slightest thrust from him sent fierce erotic sensations rippling through every part of her. She swore she could feel it in her scalp, her fingertips, the end of her nose. Running an experimental finger over her clit, she almost screamed aloud. She was so widely stretched, the fleshy button stood out like a beacon. If only she could have had Ryan’s face beneath her crotch, licking and lapping at her sex as the stranger thrust into her from behind. Instead, her own caress would have to do the trick.
    As her lover began to shaft her, hands gripping her hips, pulling her hard onto his rigid length, Melinda swore she could hear a drum beat, low and constant. In other circumstances, she might have believed it to be coming from a distant car stereo, or the jukebox in the White Hart, but she knew different. The drums were beating out a rhythm older than the village, the soundtrack to an ancient rite, long ago forgotten. It urged the hips of any man who heard it to move, faster and faster, ploughing in and out of his woman, taking her, claiming her as his. No one could resist it, Melinda was convinced of that; to hear it was to be compelled to fuck.
    Sweat oozed from her pores, her blonde hair clinging in damp strings to the nape of her neck. Her tits jiggled and bounced in time with his savage thrusts. Juice poured from her, trickling in sticky snail-trails down the insides of her thighs. The stranger’s pounding of her cunt was growing more insistent, making it harder for her to keep her fingers steady on her clit. He gripped her arse so tightly, she was sure his fingers would leave bruises. On and on he went, his powers of endurance almost beyond belief. She’d never had sex like it, never been taken to the very limits of her strength. She was light-headed, delirious, but she couldn’t get enough of him.
    With a primeval roar, the man stiffened and came. Melinda could feel every squirt as he unloaded the contents of his balls at the entrance to her womb. ‘Oh, Lowdale Man, do it. Fill me with your spunk,’ she screamed, in the second before her own climax ripped through her and the world turned black.
    When Melinda came to, it took several moments for her to work out where she was. Glancing over, she saw Ryan, still sleeping peacefully. The two of them were alone; not a trace of a naked, spear-carrying stranger. She’d obviously had the strangest dream, brought on by the dandelion wine, a dream where she was stripped and fucked by the pre-historic guardian of the hillside. The Lowdale Man was just a legend, she told herself firmly, nothing more. But that didn’t explain the pleasurable soreness between her thighs, nor the torn sun dress lying in the dewy grass.
    At last, Ryan stirred, pulling himself slowly into a sitting position. ‘Hey, Melinda, are you OK?’
    â€˜Yeah.’ As she smiled at him, she knew she was giving off a