Primal Flames: Forbidden Distance
Under the relentless hum of the city skyline, where neon bled into twilight, Ethan first felt the pull—a raw, unyielding hunger that clawed at his insides. Seattle’s fog clung to the streets like a lover’s breath, thick and teasing, as he stared at his phone screen. Lila’s message glowed: Thinking about your hands pinning me down. Make me beg. His cock twitched, hardening against the rough denim of his jeans. It had been two weeks since he’d left her in that sun-drenched Miami loft, her scent of salt and jasmine still haunting his dreams.
Chapter 1: Savage Awakening | Chapter 2: Echoes of Flesh | Jump to Chapter 3 | Chapter 4: Digital Inferno | Chapter 5: Breaking Point | Chapter 6: Rekindled Beast
Chapter 1: Savage Awakening 💋
The high-rise hotel room reeked of sweat-soaked sheets and the faint metallic tang of the condoms strewn across the nightstand. Ethan groaned, his body slick with the aftermath, as Lila’s nails raked down his back. She’d woken him at dawn, her mouth hot and insistent around his thickening shaft, sucking with a primal ferocity that made his toes curl into the mattress.
“Fuck, Lila… you’re insatiable,” he rasped, voice gravelly from sleep. She popped off him with a wet smack, her full lips glistening, eyes dark with that wild spark he’d come to crave. Her tits—heavy, freckled orbs tipped with hardened peaks—brushed his thighs as she straddled him reverse, ass cheeks spreading invitingly.
He grabbed her hips, fingers digging into soft flesh that yielded like warm clay. No condom this time; she’d started the pill just for him, whispering promises of feeling his hot seed flood her depths. “Ride me like you own it,” he commanded, slapping her ass hard enough to leave a pink bloom.
She sank down, her slick pussy swallowing his length inch by throbbing inch. The stretch burned sweetly, walls clenching around him in rhythmic pulses. Lila threw her head back, long auburn waves cascading like fire, moaning low as she ground her clit against his base. The room filled with the obscene squelch of their joining, skin slapping skin, her juices dripping down his balls.
Ethan’s mind raced—three days of fevered fucking in Miami, away from his grueling internship at the Chicago music venue. Sound engineer by training, he’d landed a gig wrangling amps and monitors for indie festivals. Lila, with her lithe dancer’s body honed from Miami’s underground burlesque scene, interned at a high-end fashion house, sketching designs that screamed seduction.
Her pace quickened, hips pistoning with primal abandon, chasing that edge. “Deeper, Ethan—fuck me primal, make me yours.” The word hung in the air, fueling his thrust upward, cockhead battering her cervix. He reached around, thumb circling her puckered asshole, pressing in knuckle-deep. She shattered then, cunt spasming wildly, squirting a gush that soaked his groin.
His balls tightened, release barreling through him. “Take it all,” he growled, erupting ropes of cum deep inside her fluttering heat. Lila collapsed forward, ass still impaled, both panting as the aftershocks rippled. Tenderness followed—his hands stroking her trembling thighs, lips brushing the salty curve of her spine. But reality loomed: his train back to Chicago left in hours.
They showered in functional silence, water cascading like reluctant tears. Dressed in wrinkled clothes, they grabbed Cuban coffee from a street cart, the bitter steam mingling with exhaust fumes. At the station, her kiss tasted of espresso and goodbye. “Three weeks,” she murmured against his mouth. “Then you ravage me again.”
The train rattled north, Ethan’s body aching from her marks, mind replaying the primal fury of their union. Distance sucked, but it sharpened the blade of desire.
Chapter 2: Echoes of Flesh
Chicago’s wind howled like a beast in heat, whipping through the venue’s loading docks as Ethan hauled cables under floodlights. The festival prep was brutal—12-hour shifts tweaking soundboards for headliners whose egos rivaled their amps. Nights blurred into calls with Lila, her voice a sultry anchor amid the chaos.
One evening, post a grueling setup for a electro-punk rave, he slumped into his beat-up sedan. Phone buzzed: Lila’s text, a photo of her in sheer lace, nipples pebbled against the fabric. Missing your cock stretching me. Finger-fuck myself thinking of you.
He dialed, heart pounding. “Tell me,” he demanded as traffic crawled.
“Two fingers now, imagining your thick head breaching my ass.” Her breath hitched over the line, wet sounds punctuating words. Ethan’s free hand palmed his bulge, freeing his rigid pole from confines. Precum beaded at the slit as he stroked lazily, syncing to her moans.
“Push deeper, baby—twist them.” He guided her, voice dropping to primal rumble. She obeyed, gasping as she added a third, knuckles grazing her g-spot. The car’s heater blasted stale air, thick with his musk. Lila’s cries peaked—”Ethan, I’m… fuck!”—her orgasm crashing audible, body shuddering phantom-like 1,000 miles away.
His followed, spurting across the dash in sticky arcs, groaning her name like a curse. Cleanup hasty with napkins, guilt flickered—not for the mess, but the gnawing void her absence carved.
Days stretched. Enter Zoe, the venue’s bubbly production assistant. Blonde pixie cut, curves poured into band tees, she filled downtime with flirty banter. Texts started innocuous: setlist gripes, festival gossip. Her stream-of-consciousness rants—”These promoters are such dicks, lol”—eased Ethan’s boredom during long afternoons soldering mics.
Zoe’s humor was bubbly chaos to Lila’s smoldering wit. They roasted pretentious artists, her emojis peppering messages like confetti. Ethan replied sporadically, mind half on Lila’s sparse check-ins—her internship swallowed days in fabric swatches and runway mocks.
One lazy Sunday, venue half-day, Ethan lounged in his cramped apartment, controller in hand for co-op games with old buddy Jax. Jax bailed for a loft party; Ethan messaged Lila instead. Instant chat lit up from her work terminal.
Plans for next visit? Beach? Club?
Your pussy on my face in a cabana. Bold, testing.
She bit: Public? Risky… hot. Strangers watching as you pound me raw.
Sexting ignited. Lila detailed fantasies—bent over balcony rails, skirt hiked, his cock slamming her from behind while waves crashed. Primal exposure, your cum dripping down my thighs for all to see. Ethan’s strokes flew, balls drawing tight. He came with a guttural roar into tissues, screen blurring. Her confession: fingering to climax at her desk, skirt damp.
New layer unlocked—Lila’s exhibitionist streak, a primal thrill he’d exploit soon. 🔥
Chapter 3: Fractured Rhythms
The festival streak hit: ten straight nights of bass-thumping madness. Stage manager Reyes ruled like a drill sergeant, his positivity masking sadistic pranks. Ethan thrived on the adrenaline, troubleshooting feedback loops amid strobe chaos, sweat stinging eyes, the acrid smoke of pyros thick in lungs.
Lila’s calls sustained him—midnight recaps laced with innuendo. “Dreamt you fisted me last night,” she’d purr, voice husky. “Knuckles deep in that primal wetness.” He’d jerk off in the shower after, hot water masking grunts.
Zoe’s texts ramped up, her boredom mirroring his lulls. Stuck filing rider contracts. Send help (or dick pics). Kidding! Laughing, he’d fire back memes of diva meltdowns.
Mid-homestand, disaster: a metal band’s set ballooned past four hours. Walk-ins, encores, equipment fails. Crew mopped up at 2 a.m., bodies reeking of beer spills and pyrotechnic residue. Ethan checked his phone—Lila’s Waiting up. Call soon?
Reyes cornered them in the green room. “Stage needs tarping. Storm inbound. Move!” Venue minors leaned on interns for grunt work; Ethan groaned inwardly. They dragged the massive cover across concrete, muscles screaming, anchoring with sandbags under sodium lamps buzzing like angry wasps.
Finished, drenched in sweat that tasted salty on lips. Grounds lead popped out, chuckling. “Tarps? Rain’s off. Reyes yanking chains.”
Fury boiled as they reversed the ordeal, tarp slapping back heavy with dew. Back inside, Reyes lounged with a craft IPA, smirking. “Classic intern hazing, boys.”
Ethan snapped. “That bullshit cost me my call—what the fuck, Reyes?” Voice echoed off cinderblocks, raw with exhaustion.
Reyes blinked. “Lighten up—team building.”
“Team? We busted ass 16 hours. Fuck your games. I’m done.” Ethan stormed out, slamming doors, heart hammering primal rage. Dialed Lila—no answer. Midnight her time; she slept.
Home, shower scalding skin raw, regret seeped in. Had he nuked his career? Sound gigs were gold; this internship paved pro paths.
Sunrise found him slinking back, gut churning. Reyes waved him in privately. “Kid, heat of moment. Apology accepted?” Handshake sealed it—move on. But trust fractured, job prospects dimmed. Ethan buried it in work, counting to Lila’s arms.
Chapter 4: Digital Inferno
Post-prank haze, Ethan channeled tension into festival warpath. Zoe noticed, her texts probing gentler. Rough night? Spill. He vented vaguely; her replies soothed like balm—gifs of exploding heads, snarky promoter takedowns.
Lila sensed distance on calls. “You okay? Sound… primal angry.”
“Work bullshit. Miss burying myself in you.”
She laughed low. “Soon. No barriers—feel every pulse.”
Downtime bred fantasy. One IM session escalated: Lila typing from a fitting room, mirror selfies of her bent, fingers plunging ass. Your tongue there first, then cock. Public restroom, door unlocked.
Ethan locked his bathroom door, pants around ankles. “Spread wider—show that pink hole.” Her compliance fueled strokes, fist pumping furiously. He described fisting her cunt while throat-fucking, primal dominance surging.
“Cumming—fuck, Ethan!” Her pixels shook; his load splattered sink, knees buckling.
Zoe’s chatter lightened loads—home games wound down, half-days freed afternoons. Jax gamed sporadically; Ethan’s world narrowed to Lila’s fire and Zoe’s sparkle. No overlap, but Zoe’s vivacious energy stirred flickers—platonic sparks in the void.
Friday loomed: flight south. Ethan packed with anticipation, cock semi-hard envisioning Lila’s airport reunion—quick grope in shadows, her hand down pants.
Chapter 5: Breaking Point 🔥
The redeye landed Miami sweltering, humid air slapping like a wet kiss. Lila waited curbside, sundress clinging curves, no bra—nipples saluting. They barely spoke en route to her loft, hands roaming thighs, his fingers teasing lace panties soaked through.
Door slammed; clothes shredded. She dropped to knees, throat opening for his girth, gagging wetly. Tears streamed as nose met pubes, saliva dripping chin to tits. “Choke on it, slut,” primal command escaped.
She did, humming vibrations milking him. Pulled off gasping, bent over kitchen island. Ethan spat on her asshole, thumbing in rough. “This what you crave?” Plunged cock balls-deep no prep, her scream echoing tile.
Anal savage—pounding merciless, balls slapping clit. Lila’s hand fisted pussy, triple penetration fantasy real. “Breed my ass—primal claim!” Orgasm ripped her, bowels clenching vise-like. He flooded her guts, pulling out to watch cream pie ooze.
Collapsed in heap, bodies quaking. Aftercare gentle—wipes, cuddles, her head on chest. “That rage from before… let it out here.”
He confessed the prank fallout, vulnerability cracking armor. Lila stroked hair. “You’re fire. Don’t dim.”
Nights blurred: beach walks turned cove fucks, salt crusting skin, waves masking cries. Club outing—dark corner dry-hump escalated, her riding reverse on barstool shadows.
Zoe texted congrats on visit; Ethan ignored, primal focus laser on Lila.
Chapter 6: Rekindled Beast 💋
Departure dawned bitter. Morning sex languid—missionary deep, eyes locked, her legs hooked heels-to-shoulders. Pillow propped, clit thumbed featherlight till she begged. “Rub it hard—primal cum!” Prolonged build yielded rolling waves, her “bathed in bliss.”
His finish drawn out, flooding bare pussy. “Feel that? Yours forever.”
Shower chaste; breakfast empanadas spicy as their heat. Train station kiss lingered, tongues dueling farewell.
Back Chicago, festival wrapped triumph—no full-time nod, but references solid. Zoe’s friendship deepened platonically; Lila’s calls reignited nightly.
Weeks later, joint trip planned—Vegas, primal playground. Distance forged steel bonds, their flame unquenchable. Ethan smiled at mirror scar from her nails: badge of beasts entwined.
In the quiet, primal whispers promised more—unleashed, unbroken.
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