Round 4 Challenge: Weave an element of Fyor’s story into your passage. It should be no more than 450 words.
Catherine recoiled in shock, dismounting from the bunched glistening fingers of his probing hand. “Who is she?” she demanded, breathing raggedly, her inflamed mound aching from its aborted fulfillment.
“What in God’s name are you talking about?” Arthur cried, unable to tear his gaze from the pair of quivering orbs jutting forth arrogantly towards him.
“The perfume!” Catherine screamed, suddenly lunging at him, wildly swinging her fists at his swarthy chest. “That’s not my perfume!”
Arthur shielded his face with his forearms. “Catherine… darling would you just… for God’s sake!” But Catherine’s wildcat frenzy was implacable. Arthur grunted as he took a fist to the shoulder and another to his steely abdomen. “You must believe me,” he cried. “I haven’t been with another woman!”
“Why you deceitful scoundrel!” Catherine swung and clipped Arthur across his rugged square jaw.
One would not know it by the soft sensuality of Catherine’s lush Junoesque body, but she could pack a punch. Having endured enough, Arthur grabbed each of her wrists in mid-air. Catherine squirmed helplessly in his grip. She’d forgotten just how strong and manly he was.
“If you’d just let me explain!” Arthur hissed. “Remember the 1987 Judge Hearth killing? Well, his niece, Auggie, is one of my patients. Her husband recently left her in a most deplorable manner. She needed a hug. That was all.”
“A hug?” Catherine flashed her smoldering eyes at him and clenched her sullen lips. “And how long did this ‘hug’ last? You impostor of a husband!”
Arthur’s nether parts began to throb like his forehead. As he looked down into the heaving crevasse of her mounds, a wild unmanageable desire consumed him. Unable to withstand it anymore, he flipped her around and threw her down violently upon the bed.
“Arthur…” she gasped.
He yanked her negligee up to her lower back and slapped the luscious round hillocks of her rump, as if to claim and subdue them with the red handprint. Then he crammed a satin pillow under her luxuriously rounded hips. This raised her ripe hind, which only further emphasized its dramatic proportions and revealed her secret valley with its tangle of black forest.
“No, Arthur,” she whimpered. “Don’t do it.”
As he thrust himself into her, an animal moan came from deep inside Catherine. He reined her hair back, pulling her tormented face up. She bared her teeth with humiliated pleasure as he drove himself in to the hilt.
“You want to know the truth?” Arthur whispered into her ear as his loins slapped percussively against her, the flesh rippling in gorgeous waves across her milky rump. “I’ll tell you the truth…”