Hentai

Hentai - Part 2

They both watched the cartoon, her breathing increasing, his need to touch her becoming almost unbearable. It was a little strange how deeply affecting the cartoons were. There was something absolutely dirty, prurient and obscene about the action, unrepentantly smutty, lugubriously pornographic. It was erotica taken so many steps beyond decency it was almost laughable. It was kinky, beyond kinky.

In the animated fantasy the woman was humiliated and ashamed to be preyed upon by this man, but as he pleasured her, she began to like it. The man dominated her, overwhelming her, handling her flesh as if it were his own, with an intimacy of both touch and intent that bordered on prescient. He came on her face, in slow-motion, and she stuck out her tongue to lick it. He jammed his fingers into her and juices sluiced out of her, crying her arousal. His enormous cock slid in and out of her mouth and, despite her expression of fear and cries of shame, she slurped his release eagerly. Over and over the two coupled in one unlikely position after another, his parts inserted into hers... wherever there was an entrance, he filled it. And he made her come every time.

Jack watched the end of the cartoon and wondered if that would be it. Would she stand, nod and leave? He decided he wasn't going to let that happen, if he could possibly stop her. He waited to see what she would do. Amazed, for the second time tonight, he saw her reach for the mouse and re-start the DVD.

The action began again. He placed his other hand on her shoulder. She pulled the buds from her ears and covered his second hand with her own. He leaned down next to her, his mouth by her ear. “Whaddya think?”

Without speaking, Sam lifted one of his hands to her mouth. She kissed the palm side of his long fingers, letting her breath wash over them. Sticking out her tongue, in a conscious imitation of the animated character, she ran it along the length of his index finger, ending at the tip, which she sucked between her lips. He tasted sharp, a metallic tang, and under it pure Jack. She ran her teeth along the ridges of his fingerprint, making a tiny squealing noise only she could hear. To him the heat and wet of her mouth was like nothing he'd felt before and all he wanted was to find out if she was that hot and that wet anywhere else.

She pulled his finger from her mouth and whispered his name, the exhalation cool on his damp flesh. She stood, holding his hands to her shoulders and spun to face him, the chair between them. “Keep your hands here, sir, or it's over,” she said seriously. He swallowed and nodded. Giving him a short bob of assent, she released his hands, trusting he'd keep them where she left them on her shoulders, and unbuckled her belt, unzipped her pants and pulled them and her panties off over her boots. Jack gawked at her. Straddling the chair, she sat, naked from the waist down, her legs spread wide, boots firmly planted on the floor.

She was eye level with his considerably tented crotch. After some consideration, she reached for his buckle, threading the webbed belt through it until it released. She popped the button and unzipped his pants, his engorged cock, inside his boxers, slipping immediately through the opening. She wrapped her fingers around him and squeezed, impressed with his size. Above her, she heard him moan. “S-s-stop.”

She looked up in surprise. “The shirt,” he said, gesturing with his chin, afraid to move his hands. She was confused, but then she got it and opened her top, flipping the plackets to the side to reveal a lacy bra. His fingers dug into her shoulders. He so wanted to touch her, especially when he saw her nipples stiffen and gooseflesh prick the pale, rounded mounds of her covered breasts.

Returning her attention to his cock, she reached for him again, pulling the elasticized waistband out and over his erection, freeing it. Gently, she pushed his pants off his hips, letting them slide down his legs of their own accord. She was now face to face with Jack's most ... in military terms ... valuable asset.

Reaching around him to grab his ass, she pulled him toward her, opening her mouth and sucking him in. Jack paid no attention to the flickering images on the screen behind her, even though, strangely, the cartoon woman had her mouth on the man's cock. All he saw was the top of Sam's blond head, his stiff dick, slick and sliding in and out of her mouth, her shoulders, where his anxious fingers twitched to grab her, the tops of her lovely breasts, her bare knees, the curves of her ass as she straddled the chair and her booted feet securely placed on the floor. So fucking hot.

And the sensation of Samantha Carter's lips tight to his shaft, her wet, warm tongue wriggling along his length, her teeth just tipping against his sensitive flesh, the suction and friction... it was all so damn right. And to top it off, she was moaning and slurping, her hands kneading his ass, pulling him into her mouth. Jack's balls tightened, the heavy sack tensing in preparation to shoot his release down her throat. He could feel it clawing through him, jolts of pleasure sweeping down his spine.

In one fast move, he grabbed his cock, pinching off the big vein at its base, trying to forestall his orgasm. At the same time he stiff-armed Sam, pushing her off him, forcing her to relinquish her hold. His breathing was shallow and fast and he wondered if he'd waited too long, wallowing in the sight, sound and feel of his dick in Samantha Carter's mouth.

She looked at him in surprise, and then he saw anger flash across her face. She stood, facing him. “I told you not to move, sir” she said, her voice flat and dangerous. “Now, I'm gone.” She turned away from him, looking for her pants. That was a big mistake. Before she knew what was happening, he stepped out of the clothes around his ankles, swept the chair from between them and grabbed her, pulling her bare ass back against his erection.

“I don't think so,” he said softly in her ear. She could feel the deep resonance of his voice in her own chest.

What they were doing until now had been a courts martial-able offense, a clear violation of the anti-frat regs. Both of them knew it, and neither of them cared. When he took her from behind, against her expressed desire to leave, they entered new territory. She could have fought back. She could have screamed for help. She could have kicked his ass. She did none of those things. He man-handled her to the edge of his desk, and she let him. She waited while he swept papers and files to the floor, and she put up no resistance, when he pushed her over onto stiff arms, kicking her legs apart to move close behind her, the tip of his dick brushing into her wetness.

Her moan was enough. He grasped his cock and drove into her, filling her in one swift thrust, his height and weight giving him all the momentum he needed to sheath himself completely. He could feel her muscles twitching around him and she began to repeat soft, little “Ohs!” over and over. Pinning her under him, he reached around to push her bra up, exposing her breasts. He cupped his large hands around them, kneading her flesh, supple and firm. He nuzzled her neck, whispering her name. She pushed back against him, her ass pressing his groin, trying to make him move. Instead his forehead fell to her shoulder and she felt his chest expand as he sighed heavily.

He pulled out of her unexpectedly and without explanation, and she gasped, her emptiness almost painful after he had filled her so perfectly. He stepped back from her, his cock wet and bobbing and twitching as if it smelled her so near and yet so far. He looked at her bent over his desk, her beautiful ass angled up for him, liquid glistening between her cheeks, and he almost moved behind her again, to take her completely, hard and fast, his body screaming for him to do it. Instead he spoke. “Turn around.”

Hesitantly she did as he said, her breasts bare, swaying, her bra rucked up above them, her shirt open. “Take those things off,” he said, pointing at her shirt and bra. She scowled at him ... and unbuttoned the cuffs, before sliding the shirt off, along with her lacy undergarment. Now she was completely naked... save for the boots, of course. He thought he'd never seen anything so hot. If the Brass at the Pentagon put pictures like this in the recruitment brochures, the armed forces would have to turn 'em away.

He moved toward her again, his hands sliding around her waist. He lifted her slightly and perched her on the edge of the desk. Moving around her, he pulled his desk chair in front of her and sat. She watched him, her blue eyes wide. “Put your feet here,” he said, tapping the arms of the chair, moving it close to her. Hesitantly, she raised her knees and placed her boots on either side of him, as he sat in front of her in his desk chair. “Lean back,” he said. Putting her palms flat on the desk behind her, she leaned, and watched as he moved between her thighs, his hands stroking the delicate inner skin and pushing her knees farther apart.

Softly, sweetly, he kissed her most sensitive flesh, the scent of her arousal strong, her juices on his lips. Pressing his face into her, he began to lick, waiting for her knees to drop open, to give him true access. As his tongue slid along her tender tissues he could feel her thighs vibrating with the effort to keep her modesty. He heard her whimper, her hips shifting. And then her thighs parted, her pelvis shifting forward, everything opening for him, her hard, little clit peeking at him. He smiled against her folds, nuzzling into her heat, as she moaned above him.

He slipped his tongue into her opening, fluttering it back and forth, in and out, and felt her hips follow. He sucked her passion-swollen flesh, scraping his beard through the tender tissues. He tipped his tongue over her clit, pushing the hood back, his lips wrapping around the little bud and sucking. He could feel her tension build. His hands, resting on her open thighs, slid forward into her heat, and he worked two, long fingers into her opening, curling them upward, probing, stroking, moving in and out of her rhythmically. He could feel her orgasm overtake her. She shuddered, her muscles clutching and grabbing his fingers, her body shaking, her knees closing over his ears.

Sam's brain blanked out, leaving only the feel of him and what he was doing to her, as she spun out of control into mindless pleasure. Her spasms eventually slowed and she recovered herself enough open her eyes and look down at him, silver hair spiking against the inside of her thighs, his fingers continuing to move gently in and out of her. As the clutching of her muscles died away she loosened her knees, letting his head go, feeling slightly embarrassed to have tightened her thighs around him. He kissed her gently and moved back to wipe her fluids from his chin and cheeks. Looking at him she thought he was the hottest man she'd ever seen.

She moved quickly to put her feet on the floor, leaning forward, placing her hands on the armrests, right in his face. Her mouth sought his. She felt a strong need to kiss him, driving her to brush her lips against his, her tongue pressing, smelling and tasting herself on his skin. Lust, prompted by the hentai cartoon, and the long build-up of sexual tension between them pushed them to this point. But her kiss disrupted the purity of that flow, injecting something else into the mix... something much more risky.

His hands sought her shoulders, pushing her upright. He stood, taking her in his arms to kiss her more thoroughly. Their tongues slipped together, tasting, touching, soft lips and taut cheeks, sharp teeth and the smell of each other. He wanted her. He wanted to fuck her silly, but this ... kissing ... was more... important. Fucking could wait, for a little while. For now, he just wanted to kiss her, and kiss her again.

Sam and his cock had other ideas. She edged back onto the desk, bringing him along with her, raising her knees over his hips, scraping her fingernails through his hair, their mouths fused. And, without real intention, his body overtaking him, Jack's guidance system sought her infrared emissions, a heat seeking missile acquiring his target, the head of his cock slicking into her, thrusting hard, until he was inside her again.

“Jack!” It was his name, a whisper, a cry, permission and plea, and Sam meant all of it, needing to have him, filling her until she could feel him in her belly. He withdrew enough to give himself room, still kissing her, his hand sliding down her side until he could grab her leg and raise it even higher, allowing him to push even deeper within her. She moaned incoherently, and he released her lips to kiss the long, pale column of her neck, his fingers tracing her pulse down to her breast, kneading and pulling on the sensitive peak.

Sam's hips thrust back at him, moving restlessly as he pleasured her breast, jolts of need spiking through her body to her clit. He moved in and out of her, his dick sliding into her heat, withdrawing, only to push back in, enclosed and embraced, the sensation of rightness, of completion, of ohmygodthisissofuckinggood! overpowering him.

Images flickered on the monitor next to them, forgotten. Had the hentai artist seen them together , he might have thought his creation had come to life, the older man, a soldier, taking the beautiful woman, filling her with his impressive equipment until she screamed in his arms. Certainly Sam was voluptuous enough, their joining juicy enough, Jack's cock large enough... yes, the hentai artist would have been pleased... but this ... thing ... between them was real, so real, and the cries and grunts, the looks of desire and passion on their faces, this was more than just sex. This was need fulfilled.

Emerging from another deep kiss Jack looked into her eyes. “This isn't how imagined it, Sam, at least not the first time.” He stroked a finger down her soft cheek, unable to look away from her, unwilling to miss a moment of her passion and pleasure.

“You imagined us doing ... this?” she asked, moving to take his earlobe between her teeth.

“Didn't you?” he responded, shivering from the feel of her breath on his neck.

“Feels perfect to me,” she gasped, as he slid out and rammed back into her, twisting slightly to add some torque to his thrust. “I promise, next time we can use a bed.”

“Next time?” he asked, suddenly frozen.

“Yes,” she said simply, seeking his eyes. They'd gone almost black. She didn't know what she'd do if he didn't acknowledge that there would be a next time.

“Good,” he said, so softly, she wasn't sure she heard him. “Good,” he repeated more strongly, driving into her. “So good,” he sighed into her neck, her breast warm and firm in his hand. “So very good,” he said, lips closing over her sensitive nipple. There was no more talking then, at least not in any known language, but the meaning was clear. She moaned. He answered, a sigh rising from his throat. She gasped. He grunted and pushed deeply inside her.

Sam was close. Every time he thrust into her, he managed to connect with that place inside her, the hard-to-reach spot, which made her weak, made her cry, made her scream. And he knew he was there, because every time he planted the head of his cock in that one little place, he rocked against her, increasing the friction and pressure, until she thought she'd go just a little mad if he stopped. And when he pulled away and she groaned, he drove into her again, finding that spot again, and rocking, and she went a little more delirious each time.

Jack could tell she was on the verge, the rising cries, the sweat breaking across her chest, the tightening muscles, the fine tremor vibrating through his cock, when he pushed into her. “Sam,” he said. It wasn't an order, or a command, but her eyes snapped open anyway, looking into his. Deliberately he licked his thumb, holding her gaze, and moved to her clit, stroking upward, pressing hard. That was it. She cried out, her hands clutching his shoulders, her whole body shaking, spasms grasping his cock, an intimate caress that pushed him beyond control, and he could release the demon inside him, letting it slam down his spine through his body and into hers, waves of his hot seed flooding into her.

Her orgasm seemed to go on forever, body seizing in pleasure, inner muscles grabbing and throbbing, voice breathy and uncontrolled. Eventually she realized her fingers were imbedded in his biceps and she loosened them, afraid of hurting him, her hands scrabbling against his skin, her hips jerking as her womb twitched and pulsated. Slowly the turmoil within her calmed, sweat starting to dry on her chest. He softened and began to withdraw, but she held him to her as the last shocks left her body.

Jack lifted himself off her reluctantly and turned, looking for his shorts. He snagged them from the floor. Turning back to her, perched on his desk, he stopped, looking at her. “What?” she asked, her brain functioning again, if only monosyllabically. He looked her up and down. She was a mess. Her hair tousled, lips pink and slightly swollen, a hickey on her collarbone, legs spread wide, come slipping from between. He thought she'd never looked better.

“Lean back,” he said, for the second time that night... or morning. When she did, he used his white, Air Force issue shorts to clean her, lifting her knee to open her, gently daubing their combined liquids from her. When he was satisfied, he gave himself a cursory wipe or two and grinned at her.

“What?” she repeated.

“You,” he said.

“Me?”

“Uh huh,” he responded.

“What about me?”

“You're beautiful,” he replied, moving closer, his hand sliding around her waist.

“So are you,” she said, slipping back into his arms, as if she'd always been there, and never left. She held him tightly, not wanting the moment to end, and he seemed content to remain there, for as long as her arms were clasped around him. Her hand circled lazily on his back. Abruptly she froze, her body going tense.

“What is it?” he asked softly, almost afraid to find out.

“Daniel,” she said, as if merely their friend's name was sufficient to communicate her thoughts. Jack pulled back a little to look at her face. She was serious and concerned, but he was smirking. It surprised her. “You're not worried?” she asked.

“Naw,” he said, stroking an errant lock of hair from her temple. “At first I wanted to kill him for sending you down here like that... the little fucker. Then I thought you might dismember him for me... but then you stayed and ... well, let's just say, I'm satisfied with the outcome.” He smiled at her gently, pulling her close again.

She gave him a little potch to the shoulder, but quickly re-settled in his embrace. Quietly she offered, “Me too,” a satisfied sigh punctuating the thought. A moment passed. She added, “But, I still think I might have to kill Daniel.”

Jack laughed softly near her ear. He reached around her and ejected the DVD from the drive, putting his finger in the hole to lift it from the tray. It shimmered on his index finger, looking like some kind of alien device, if they didn't know what real alien gizmos looked like. He made flying motions in the air, swooping the disk by her, buzzing her hair. She laughed, watching.

Suddenly he stopped, his arm around her tightening. “I know!” he exclaimed. “Let's tell him my DVD drive broke, and I didn't watch it... and you don't have a DVD drive, so you didn't see it either.” Jack started laughing again.

Sam joined in. “That'll frustrate the hell out of him...”

“Serves him right,” Jack said, kissing her neck. She rubbed her cheek against his hair like a cat. “What made him send you here in the first place?” he asked, reluctantly releasing her and collecting their clothes from the floor.

“I don't know,” she said, putting on her bra and shirt. “I went to get a cup of coffee and he was in his lab, working at his computer. He told me that he'd just lent you a training video that he thought I should watch right away, because it was taken by the Tok'ra on a remote planet, where the Jaffa used movements remarkably similar to Japanese martial arts. He said it was a great example of cultural contamination. He told me that you wanted me to watch it.”

“I wanted you to watch it?” Jack pulled his pants on, commando, his boxers irredeemable at the moment.

“Uh huh,” she said. “Did you?”

He gave her a long calculating look, chewing briefly on the inside of his cheek. “In my wildest dreams,” he said, raising an eyebrow in a remarkable simulation of their favorite Jaffa.

Sam smirked at him, doing a credible version of his own patented smirk. She looked around the office. “Where are my panties?” she asked, holding her BDU trousers in her hand.

“You mean these?” he asked, reaching into his pants pocket, dangling the damp, wrinkled material from one finger.

“Jaaaaack!” It felt really good to say his name, especially when he grinned at her.

He stuffed her undies back in his pocket. “Nope. I'm keeping 'em. Souvenir of an evening well spent.” He defied her to retaliate, his expression challenging. Instead she shrugged and pulled her BDU pants on sans underwear. Jack watched her long legs disappear into the green, cotton trousers, finishing with a zip over her pale, bare abdomen. He sat down heavily in his desk chair, putting a fist to his cheek. She looked at him, frowning a question. Looking up at her he said, “Just knowing you're not wearing panties... well, it does something to me.” He turned away from her, his hand dropping over his eyes.

Her own eyes dropped to his lap, amazed to see definite signs of arousal. “Jack?” She moved in front of him, dropping down to crouch between his knees, hands on his thighs. She reached for his stiffening flesh, fingers encircling it. “Is this for me?” she asked.

He looked down at her, posing between his legs, her hand hot on his dick. He thought it must be the dream of every man who'd ever met her... certainly his. “Every time,” he said, his hips jerking toward her involuntarily. There was a knock at his office door.

“Jack?” It was Daniel. Sam stood, her hand slipping down the placket of her shirt, checking the buttons. She moved to the other side of Jack's desk and began typing on his computer keyboard.

“Yeah!” Jack called. The office door opened and Daniel walked in. He looked at Jack, his legs crossed uncharacteristically, sitting in his desk chair, which was in the middle of the room, one of the visitors' chairs pushed askew against the far wall, papers on the floor, and Sam on the other side of the desk. He smiled, his head swiveling from one friend to the other.

“Soooo, how was the DVD?” he asked, rubbing his hands together, his grin getting wider.

Just then Sam spoke up. “It's no use, sir, I can't figure out why the drive doesn't work. Talk to Siler in the morning and have him order you a new one.” She stood up straight and put her hands on her hips, a frown creasing her lovely face. “Hi Daniel,” she added, as if it were an afterthought.

“Wait, you didn't watch the DVD?” Daniel's smile sank into a straight line.

“I was fooling around with it for a while, then Carter arrived and she's been messing with it ever since,” Jack said. He stood and scooped up the silver disk from the edge of his desk. Reaching across Sam, he grabbed the cover, which was on the other side of the desk, and slapped the DVD into the case, handing it to Daniel. “I guess I'll have to take a raincheck,” he said, his eyebrows rising.

Daniel looked disbelievingly at the case in Jack's outstretched hand. Hesitantly he reached for it. He looked at the colorful cover, turning it over in his hands. He cleared his throat and glanced at his friends over the top of his glasses. “Yeah, another time then.” He smacked the case on his flattened palm and tucked it under his arm. Turning toward the door he reached for the knob. Over his shoulder he looked back at Sam and Jack. “You've got a bunch of papers scattered all over the place, and .... well, your boxers are on the floor by the desk, Jack.” And before they could respond, Daniel opened the door and left.

Out in the hall Daniel leaned against the wall and laughed softly. He didn't know why they wanted him to believe they hadn't watched the hentai, but he wouldn't have believed them anyway. The minute he opened Jack's office door all he could smell was sex. My work here is done, he thought, pushing off the wall, a spring in his step. Then Daniel burst out in happy laughter, a sound which echoed off the walls and was clearly audible behind the closed door of Jack's office.

Sam and Jack looked at each other as the sound of Daniel's outburst reached them. As one they shrugged. Then Jack encircled her in his arms, Daniel, the cartoon and the regs readily forgotten, their feelings for each other acknowledged, their lips pressed together for another deep kiss, a promise of ... next time.