Consent Is King

Terry whimpers under your stroke. His soul forever folds under your touch. You’ve mastered the perfect pace and pull to make his man drool drip onto the floor. Your right hand is his favorite stress reliever. Your spit is the perfect lube. He can feel your wet stain the back of his dress shirt. His slacks cover his brown wing tips, his briefs heavy with precum. The unbearable drive over to your place. On edge.  Over work today and everything that came with it, really. Thinking about what you’re doing to him right now. He couldn’t wait to get home to you. To what you’re making him watch in the mirror. 

Who knew your sexy faces could be so damn sinister? It’s like you’re possessed with the task of beating his dick until he taps out. He can’t contain the ‘fucks’ escaping from the depths of his military-frame. That deep, Southern-fried baritone is an octave or two away from breaking glass. 

What a bitch, you think. But he’s your bitch. And bitches deserve to feel good. 

"You like this shit, don’t you?"

"Mm-. Mmhmm."

Rapid nods into head drops. A quick look down to the mess you’re making on him. Your manicured thumb traces circles atop the head of his shaft. Dragging the tip of your black coffin-shaped nail just under his shooter sends his thighs into a thunderous shake. Sensitive to the touch. 

“Oh, look at you.” 

Look at him. He’s the finest man you’ve ever seen.  Those eyes, that toasted almond skin? So unfair. That scruff on his chin. You pull it with your left hand as you keep stroking him with your right. He loves being at your whim. 

Your pace quickens. The sounds coming from Terry intensify. 

“You had a rough day at work, huh?"

Terry gathers just enough strength to answer. “Ye-ss. Fuck.” 

“You wanna tell me about it while I make you cum?” 

Therapy by tug. 

A random fire drill messed up his concentration. His co-worker talking incessantly about her dog. The dog she lost almost a decade ago. An uber-boring meeting on military analytics. His boss’ secretary kept barging into a closed door meeting with Terry. Wife at home needed a call-back ASAP. He kept dodging the responsibility, instead choosing to eye-fuck the girl every chance he could. 

That’s what you could put together through the babbles, the moans, the sighs and the grit of his teeth. 

“She must be attractive…” Your left hand leaves his beard and travels down to the base of his neck, index and thumb fingers dragging against his skin. You gently press your hand onto his Adam's apple. You’d rather choke him than hear Terry affirm your beliefs. His eyes roll back to cosign your desires not to know. 

Terry’s fuck faces are top-tier: that fat bottom lip between his perfect teeth. His tongue poking out the sides of his mouth when his dick twitches under your care. He likes to feel it jump against your hand, a high-five of the highest order. 

His dick starts to pump on its own. You slow down your pace. Terry likes to be edged into oblivion. He’s doing so good right now. He deserves what’s about to happen. 

You pick up the pace of your personal fleshlight, strokes getting more nasty and wetter by the second. Terry needs it even more wet. He wants to feel like it’s your pussy collapsing around him. 

“Wet your shit.” 

You watch him send a trail of his own saliva down to the scene of the crime. That turns you into a beast even more. Your left thumb enters his mouth. You’ll be his ball gag. You feel his big body shake under your touch. The bottom half of his body lifts up from the bed. His moans and hisses reverberate around your finger. 

“Boy, don’t bite…” 

His teeth retread. HIs tongue swirls around your finger. instead He tries to tell you he’s about to cum but your thumb goes even deeper into his mouth. You press up on the roof of his mouth. His eyes water, his bottom lip drops. A pool of spit drips down the right side of his chin. He’s never looked so defeated, so ready to wave the white flag. 

You want to finish with him. 

“I want some of this too. Fuck, lift up. Lift up.” 

You pull your right hand from Terry’s member and proceed to create rapid fire circles on your clit. “Ter-ry. I wanna watch you finish…” 

Terry has a better idea. “I’mma fuck us both into a finish.” 

Terry goes full Semper Fi. He pulls you under him, legs already wide open and ready for what’s about to happen. He doesn’t waste a second, sliding his huge dick inside of our already slick-stained walls. Pumping in and out of you like a clogged hose. You grab the back of Terry’s neck for leverage. He keeps pounding you and pounding into you. 

“Fuck got into you?! Don’t stop-p.” You can hit some notes too when Terry hits your shit out the frame. “Fuck me, Terry. Keep fucking me. Pleaseeee.” 

Terry don’t know nothing else but putting in full effort. You feel the heat of his belly against yours. The rumble before the volcanic explosion. You beat Terry’s back with your fist and he continues to beat your pussy to a pulp. He’s so ready to let off inside of you. You’re ready to create a gnarly cocktails of fluids. 

Terry pauses to lift up his waist. He knows the routine. You find your clit again and proceed to rapidly swipe right like Tinder. His strokes go Quiet Storm-slow in and out of you. Your brain turns into radio static. Blackout screams and Terry’s name exits your lips. An epic stream splashes onto Terry’s waist. Your mouth drops to the floor. Terry picks it up with a deep kiss. He moans into your mouth as his load counterstrikes.