Bar Drinks to Hotel Ragdoll – Squirted So Hard She Almost Passed Out Begging for More

She moaned, a raw, broken sound into my mouth, her small body arching against mine as the hotel room door clicked shut behind us. My hands were already on her, one cupping the perfect, round swell of her ass through her jeans, the other sliding up her ribcage to palm a pert, perfect breast. “Fuck, you’re tiny,” I growled against her lips, my voice thick with the hunger that had been building for two hours at the bar. “This whole fucking body is a tease.”

She tasted like beer and mint and pure, unadulterated want. Her lips, slick with a berry-tinted gloss that was already smearing onto my chin, moved desperately against mine. Her tongue met mine, hot and eager. My fingers found her nipple through the soft cotton of her top, rolling the hard peak until she gasped, her moan swallowed by our kiss. I could feel the frantic beat of her heart against my palm.

“All through those drinks,” I whispered, pulling back just enough to see her flushed face, her dilated pupils. “Your leg rubbing mine. That look in your eyes. You knew exactly what you were doing.” My grip on her waist tightened, my fingers nearly spanning its entire width. She was so light, so compact. A live wire of pent-up need packaged in a slim, five-foot-two frame. “Teasing time is over, Shelly.”

I didn’t ask. I just moved. My hands slid down to her thighs and I lifted her clean off the floor, her surprised yelp turning into another moan as I pinned her against the wall. Her legs instinctively wrapped around my waist, her core grinding against the hard ridge in my jeans. “Now you’re getting wrecked,” I growled, my face inches from hers, watching the thrill and surrender flash in her eyes.

Consent wasn’t a question; it was the electric current arcing between us. She nodded, breathless, her fingers tangling in my hair. “Please,” was all she said, and it was all the permission I’d ever need.

I carried her to the bed, her weight nothing. I laid her down and stripped her with a ruthless efficiency that made her shiver. Jeans and panties gone in one pull. Top and bra over her head. She was laid bare, and God, she was exquisite. Slim, with gentle curves at her hips and those stunning natural tits, high and proud with pink, pebbled tips. And between her legs, already glistening, was the prettiest, pinkest pussy I’d ever seen, lips swollen and begging.

“Look at you,” I murmured, spreading her slim thighs wide with my hands. “So fucking pretty. Made for this.” I didn’t wait. I lowered my face and dragged my tongue from the very bottom of her slit, right over her tight little asshole, all the way up to her throbbing clit in one long, wet stroke.

She shrieked, her hips jolting off the bed. The taste was addictive—musky, sweet, uniquely her. I moaned against her, the vibration making her legs shake. I did it again, slower, savoring the salt and silk of her, my tongue flattening to lap up every drop. Then I focused on her clit, sucking the hard bud into my mouth, applying rhythmic pressure with my lips and tongue.

“Oh God, oh fuck,” she chanted, her hands fisting in the sheets. Her back arched, offering herself more completely. I took it. I dove lower, my tongue spearing into her tight channel, fucking her with it, shallow then deep, curling up to find that spongy spot inside. Her cries pitched higher. Her juices flowed, coating my chin, dripping down my neck.

My need was a physical ache in my jaw, a craving only her taste could sate. I shifted, my hands sliding under her to grip her ass, spreading her cheeks wide. Her whole body tensed in anticipation. I blew a warm breath over her exposed rosebud, then licked a slow, firm circle around the clenched rim.

“Yes… there…” she whimpered, her voice ragged.

I pushed my tongue against it, then in, breaching the tight ring. She gasped, a sharp, shocked sound that melted into a groan of pure bliss as I began to fuck her ass with my tongue, plunging in and out while my nose nudged against her soaked pussy. I was eating her like a starved man, devouring both of her most intimate holes, my tongue working tirelessly. The wet, slurping sounds filled the room, a filthy soundtrack to her unraveling. Her squeals became continuous, her body bucking, trying to grind her pussy harder against my face.

“You’re dripping everywhere, you gorgeous thing,” I said, my voice muffled against her flesh. I pulled back, my face soaked. “Sit on my face. Now.”

I lay back on the bed and guided her as she scrambled over me, her small knees settling on either side of my head. She lowered herself, her dripping pussy and the ass I’d just rimmed coming to rest squarely over my mouth. “Grind,” I ordered, my hands slapping her ass lightly.

She obeyed, a shy, tentative rock of her hips at first. Then, feeling my tongue spear up into her again, she lost it. Her movements became frantic, her little body riding my face, her wetness smearing across my cheeks, my nose, my chin. I held her hips, guiding her, my tongue dancing from her clit to her hole and back. She was so light, I could maneuver her effortlessly, tilting her to get the angle I wanted, feeling her thighs tremble against my ears.

“I’m… I’m gonna…” she choked out.

“Not yet,” I commanded, flipping her off me with ease. I put her on her hands and knees, her beautiful ass high in the air. I buried my face between her cheeks from behind, my tongue delving deep into her pussy, then licking up to her ass again, over and over, until she was sobbing with need. Then I pulled her onto her back, hooked her ankles over my shoulders—her petite frame folding beautifully—and went back in, my tongue driving deeper than ever before.

Her first orgasm hit her like a truck. A guttural scream tore from her throat as her body bowed off the bed, her pussy clenching around nothing, her juices flooding my mouth. I drank her down, lapping at her as she shook, not letting up for a second.

“Good girl,” I praised, kissing her inner thigh. “Such a good, responsive girl. Now let’s see how many more you’ve got in that tiny body.”

The real manhandling began. I flipped her onto her stomach, then rolled her back. I gripped her slender waist and hauled her to the edge of the bed, her ass perched on the brink. I pinned her wrists above her head with one hand—my fingers easily encircling both—and looked down at her, spread open and utterly vulnerable.

“My turn to play,” I said, my voice low. I slid two fingers into her sopping warmth. She was incredibly tight, the walls clutching at me like a fist. I curled them immediately, finding that rough, swollen spot inside her G-spot, and began a fast, relentless “come hither” motion.

“Oh! Fuck! Right there!” she screamed, her hips jerking.

I added my thumb, circling her clit with firm, steady pressure. Her eyes rolled back, her mouth falling open in a silent cry. I watched her teeter on the edge, then pushed her over. Her second orgasm was a flood. A hot, clear gush of fluid erupted from her, soaking my hand, my forearm, splashing onto my chest and the sheets below. It wasn’t a trickle; it was a torrent. She screamed my name, her body convulsing, her back arching violently.

“Again,” I demanded, not stopping the G-spot assault. I reached for the wand vibrator on the nightstand, clicked it on high, and pressed the buzzing head directly against her clit while my fingers still worked inside her.

“No! Too much! I can’t—” she begged, but her body betrayed her. A third, even bigger squirt jetted out, an arc of liquid that hit the headboard with a splash. Her scream was hoarse, broken. Her eyes were unfocused, her head thrashing side to side. “Head’s spinning… please…”

“You can,” I soothed, my tone a contrast to the ruthless stimulation. “You’re doing so perfectly. Give me another one for me, my beautiful squirter.” I stretched her wider with three fingers, scissoring them gently as the wand hummed against her swollen nub. I was overstimulating her on purpose, driving her past reason.

She came again. And again. Each orgasm triggered another gushing squirt, the bed beneath her becoming a soaked mess, the scent of her arousal thick in the air. Her cries were continuous now, a sobbing, groaning litany of pleasure-pain. Her petite frame was tensing and going limp, tensing and going limp, like a ragdoll being shocked with volts of ecstasy.

“Don’t stop… don’t let me stop…” she pleaded hoarsely, her voice barely a whisper, even as her thighs trembled violently and her eyes fluttered shut. “More… can’t stop cumming…”