avid fic reader

it was on a friday night that you had decided tonight was the night. you had sent clark the usual duck emoji, smirking as he had immediately seen the text. however, when you arrived home, it wasn't like usual. usually, upon sending the emoji, you'd pounce on him and drag him to the bedroom. tonight, however? radio silence. well, not quite, but that's it felt to clark. you didn't give him those bedroom eyes you usually did on nights you were feeling particularly needy, you insisted on taking a shower all by yourself (he almost crumbled at that) and after dinner, you lounged on the couch to watch a tv show without even asking him to follow you! you just did!

the thing about clark kent is, he's a gentleman through and through. his ma had raised him to be one, and for christ's sake, he was superman! how could he not be a gentleman? but, he sympathizes with himself, you can't spell gentlemna without man, and clark was a man before he was anything else. a very aroused and hopelssly in love man, at that.

he stands awkwardly in the doorway of the living room, staring at you. you noticed, of course, but this wasn't unusual. clark has always had sort of weird quirks—you had always found them endearing. "is something the matter, honey?" your sirupy voice cut through his stream of thought, and suddenly his eyes focus again, gaze meeting yours.

clark has his phone in hand, and he brings it up to look back at the duck emoji you had sent. duck meant sex. you wanted this. he can indulge. you want this.

he knows you do. you sent the text, and he feels like he can almost smell your arousal and it's driving him fucking insane because he just wants to dive in it and taste it and fuck you everywhere so the entire place smells like you and-

in the blink of an eye, his phone is abandonned and he's on you, lips smashed against yours. you barely have the time to react but you do, arms now hanging around his thick neck. his hand latches itself onto your cheeks, fingers pressing into both of them, urging you to open your mouth. as soon as you do, his tongue, which was inhumanely long, snaked into your cavern, exploring its depths. he moaned at the taste of your saliva, almost melting into you as if the flavor of you was his ultimate salvation.

noticing the lack of air filling your lungs, he pulled away, his eyes softening at the sight of you catching your breath. "c-clark... what's... whta's gotten into you?" you licked your lips, face flushed. he looks at you like a puppy begging for its treat. "the emoji... you sent the emoji but you didn't... i thought..." his mind is a rush, moving at a thousand miles per hour as his entire body is begging him to rip your clothes off and take you.

he gives up, his head falling into the crook of your neck. "i just... i really need to fuck you, sweetheart." and as he's confessing this, his hand is gliding towards the waistband of your bottoms, sliding swiftly underneath it.

you think you could ascend.

you bite your lip, rendered mute at the sheer tension of the moment. "i know you want it, baby..." he scoffs, eyes closed. "can smell it."

curse him for being such a dangerously hot and multi-abled alien.

his hand makes its way underneath your panties, finger running through your slit, collecting the slick you've been trying to keep to yourself for the past hour. "ah..." you let out a low sound, almost imperceptible but clark was so hyper-focused on you that the little moan made him shudder.

he uses his forearm to push himself upwards, his hand escaping your bottoms to rush up to his mouth, and when you look at him, you gasp, feeling your walls clench.

because clark has never looked this feral.

his eyes were half-lidded and impossibly dark, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows your juices, eyes nearly rolling back at the taste. he moans, his cock twitching and growing inside his sweatpants.

"you're gonna give it t'me, right sweetie?" he asks in that low, sultry voice that he only allows himself to use when he'd rather die than not touch you.

the eager nod you gave him marked the moment you knew you were done for.

.

how long has it been? you don't know. you don't know anything, actually. your brain is fogged with how clark was pounding you into the fuzzy carpet, your eyes crossing when the buds running along his dick grazed against the ridges of your walls, the added sensation making you spasm. "f-ffuck-! clark- oh my god, ohmygod—" you can barely form a sentence, let alone link two words together when he knocks at your cervix, your tits bouncing in rhythm with every thrust.

and clark isn't even listening to you, his eyes laser-focused on the sight of his cock splitting you open repeatedly, a vein bulging on his forehead at his intense use of his x-ray vision. "look at that, b-baby... look..." and you don't even bother, too lost in the ecstasy. he sees it all though, the strings of your arousal clinging to his tip every time he pulls away, the ridged of your pussy hooking onto his buds, the contractions of your muscles.

he finally manages to pull his eyes away from the sight, only to be met with the even prettier, albeit messier sight of your fucked out face. tears and drool glossed your skin, your eyes rolled back nearly to the back of your skull, throwing your head back when clark's hips stutter against yours, a white-hot wave washing over him over the sight.

he stilled when his buds hardened and hooked onto your walls, pulling him impossibly deep as he shoots buckets worth of cum deep into your womb. "a-ah! holy sh- hmm, fffuck, baby- i- fuck!" he sobs, jerking down towards you and you moan at the feeling of him filling you up once more, droplets of his sweat dripping onto your buzzing skin.

despite his orgasm, he doesn't stop, "n-need m-moree- needa fill you up-! ah, fuck!" his voice jumps up an octave when his buds finally relax again, allowing him to keep pistoning into you. "d-don't stop, clark! please dont- oh-!" he suddenly grabs your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders before beeending down, succesfully folding you in half. his face is now slotted right in front of yours, and the eye contact is so intense you almost feel shy under his gaze.

a mating press. clark kent had you in a fucking mating press.

you get lost in his ocean blue eyes, barely able to keep the eye conatct when he fucks you almost like he hated you, digging in your pussy. "you're... you're so beautiful, honey... so fucking pretty- all f'me, yeah? all f'me?" you nod, hands pressing against the back of his head to bring him impossiby closer to you, "all for you, clarkie," you confirmed being hastily pressing his against you, imprisoning him in a feverish kiss. clark moans into your mouth, eyes closing. you jolt slightly when you feel a tear drip down on your cheek, peeling your eyes open to see clark crying.

he pulls away, gasping for air as his throat restricts. "i l-love you, love you s'much— need you so, ngh, so bad... wanna breed ya'..." he sobs, whimpering for you. seeing clark become such a slave to his love for you had an inescapable effect on you, and your orgasm was almost immediate. you came with a gasp, the pleasure being so heavy that your eyes had given up on their function, unfocusing and leaving you with the blurry image of clark's flushed expression. your back arched as cream dribbled out of your hole, creating a white ring around clark's base.

in the midst of your orgasm, he pulls out, making you whine for the few seconds your face isn't smushed against the carpet because in a matter of moments, your world tilted before you found yourself face down ass up for your boyfriend. he pressed a hand on your back, urging a deeper arch. "m'sorry baby, m'so sorry..." he apologizes for the his unceremonial behavior but his apologies fall on deaf ears as you couldn't be happier.

your hands clutch the fluff of the carpet when he slams back into you, kneading the flesh of your ass. "just... just need this. s'your fault for making me wait... so long.. to have you- ngh, gosh..." he's hypnotized by the rippling of your ass, and the way your back bends impossibly for a second each time he rams back inside you, pressing you further into the carpet.

with clark kent fucking you like that, you really don’t think you’re making it out alive.

well, your fault for trying to experiment on a poor, farm-grown kryptonian.

your moans are rhythmic, matching the pace of his hips. leaning in, he wraps an arm around you to squeeze your tits, massaging them and rubbing your hardened nipples. "so obedient..." his comment makes your walls flutter around his fat cock. he begins to roll his hips, not quite thrusting. he presses against you, making you drool. "nghhh... fffuuuck... love you... so much.. c-clark-!" you slurred, going crazy at the sensation of his buds hardening slowly again, hooking onto your insides.

"w-want your cum-! want you to b-breed me!" you egged him on, "yeah? y'want it, baby? oh gosh, i'm cumming, m'cummingm'cumming-" he gritted, spilling into you once more. "oh my god! oh god, sweetheart!" he whined, your name escaping him as his hips bucked again, releasing rope upon rope inside you. his orgasm triggered yours, drops of your release trickled down onto the carpet before his hand snaked down to your clit, rubbing furiously and suddenly an intense stream released itself onto the now soaked carpet, the intensity of both of your orgasms making the two of you collaspe in a heap.

he layed on top of you, both of you catching your breaths. "i feel so... sticky." he remarked, "shit... i ruined the carpet." you groaned, knitting your eyebrows together.

a silence settled in, before you broke it. "i'm glad my experiment worked." a beat passes before he reacts, "experiment?"

"i tried conditioning you into associating sex with the duck emoji. it worked."

clarks hums, choosing not to react any further.

a few days later, minutes after the end of your shift, you receive a text from clark.

a duck emoji.

you felt the heat rise to your cheeks, a mix of nerves and pure electric excitement buzzing under your skin. the girls immediately swarmed you, grabbing your hands and practically dragging you toward the dressing room before you could even process it.

“this is it, girl!” trinity squealed, already scanning your suitcase for the perfect look. “you need to look hot as fuck.”

the dressing room became a sanctuary of girl talk and excitement. you felt like you were back your college dorm, getting ready for a night out. you settled on a set of deep emerald silk lingerie that made your skin glow—the straps were delicate, the lace intricate, and it hugged you in all the right places.

as you slipped it on, the girls helped you with the finishing touches. they touched up your makeup, adding a little extra gloss to your lips and dusting a bit of gold highlight over your collarbones. they were hyping you up, reminding you just how lucky carl was to have you.

“he’s not gonna be able to keep his eyes off you,” one of the girls teased, zipping up your robe. “go get your man.”

the walk to the hideaway felt like a blur of nerves and anticipation. the villa was quiet, the moon hanging low over the pool, and every step felt deliberate. your heart was hammering against your ribs.

you knew you and carl were infatuated with such other, but being alone? away from the prying eyes of the other islanders and the cameras that were always hovering? that felt different. and honestly, you were glad. because you needed to be fucked. badly.

when you reached the door, you took a deep breath, smoothing down your robe. you pushed the door open, the room dimly lit with soft, romantic lighting and a bottle of bubbly already chilling on the table.

carl was already there, deciding that’d he’d surprise you instead of you walking together.

he was standing by the bed, his back to the door, but he turned around the second he heard you. the air in the room seemed to shift, getting heavy and thick with the tension that had been building between you for weeks. he didn't say a word at first. he just let his eyes travel slowly from your toes up to your face, his jaw clenching as he took you in.

the heavy wooden door of the hideaway clicked shut behind you, sealing out the rest of the villa and leaving nothing but the hum of the air conditioner and the soft, pink glow of the neon lights.

“wow,” he finally breathed out, his voice a low, raspy whisper that did things to your stomach. he took a step toward you, not breaking eye contact. “you look… damn, you look amazing.”

he reached out, his warm fingers brushing against your arm, and the contact sent a shiver straight down your spine. being in the villa was one thing, but being in this space, just the two of you? it felt like the rest of the world—and the rest of the island—had completely ceased to exist.

“i’ve been thinking about you all day,” he murmured, stepping into your space and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “ever since the challenge. seeing you like that… i couldn't wait to get you in bed and have you all to myself.”

you looked up at him, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the steady, thumping beat of his heart under your palms.

he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “tonight is just about us. no challenges, no games, just you and me.”

he tilted your chin up, his eyes softening as he stared down at you with so much adoration it almost knocked the wind out of you. he pressed a soft, slow kiss to your lips, sealing the deal on the night. you knew, standing there in the quiet of the hideaway, that the next few hours were going to be everything you’d been dreaming of.

carl didn’t waste a single second. the moment you stepped towards him, his hands were on you. they weren't rushed, but they were incredibly firm, the movement against your lower back made your breath hitch. he guided you backward until your spine met the cool surface of the door, his large frame completely trapping you in his shadow.

“let me look at you,” he murmured, his voice a low, commanding gravel that vibrated straight through your chest.

his fingers found the satin tie of your robe. he didn't rip it open; instead, he untied it with a slow, agonizing deliberation, parting the silk to reveal the emerald lace underneath. his jaw clenched, a dark, heavy hunger flaring in his eyes as he took in every single inch of your body. he looked at you like you were something precious he had finally earned the right to possess.

“damn,” he whispered, his large hands coming up to cup your face. his thumbs brushed gently over your cheekbones, his touch so incredibly tender it contrasted sharply with the intense, dominant heat in his gaze. “you are so beautiful. you know you're mine, right? after today, after everything… there's no way you don't know that.”

you could only nod, your heart hammering wildly against your ribs.

carl smiled, a slow, satisfied smirk, and leaned down to claim your mouth. the kiss started out soft, his lips tasting yours with a gentle, worshipful slow pace that made your knees feel weak. but the moment you let out a soft sigh into his mouth, his dominance took over.

his grip shifted from your face to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling into your hair to tilt your head back, deepening the kiss into something deep, heavy, and possessive.

he parted from your lips just enough to trail his mouth down your jawline, pressing hot, lingering bites against the sensitive skin of your neck. you gasped, your hands gripping his broad shoulders for balance as your head fell back against the door.

“carl,” you breathed out.

“i’ve got you, baby. i’ve got you,” he whispered against your skin, his voice soothing but his actions completely in control.

without warning, his hands slid down to your thighs, and with a single, effortless lift, he hoisted you up. your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your arms locking around his neck. carl carried you across the room like you weighed nothing at all, his grip on your thighs unyielding, showing off that raw strength you'd watched him use during the challenges.

when he reached the massive bed, he didn't just drop you. he crawled over you, pinning you down beneath his body while supporting his own weight on his forearms so he wouldn't crush you. his large hands reached up, pinning your wrists gently but firmly above your head against the pillows.

“look at me,” he commanded softly.

you met his gaze, finding a breathtaking mix of fierce dominance and pure, unadulterated adoration staring back at you. he held your hands trapped, proving he was completely in charge of the night, yet he leaned down and kissed your forehead, then the tip of your nose, and finally your lips with the gentlest care.

“tonight is entirely about you,” carl murmured, his thumbs caressing the backs of your pinned hands. “i’m going to take my time with every single part of you. you just need to relax and let me take care of everything.”

“yes, baby,” you moaned in agreement, throwing your head back against the sheets so he could further attack your neck.

the weight of his body over yours felt incredible, a warm, solid pressure that made you feel completely secure yet entirely helpless beneath him. carl didn’t release your wrists right away. he liked having you right where he wanted you, taking a few quiet seconds just to listen to the sound of your ragged breathing filling the quiet room.

“you’re so pretty,” he whispered, his deep voice sending a pleasant ache through your core.

he slowly let go of your hands, but before you could move, his large palms slid down your arms, smoothing over your shoulders and resting heavily on your ribs. his fingers trailed along the edge of the emerald lace, tracing the curves of your body with a steady, worshipful pace. he was worshipping you, making sure you felt every single ounce of the hunger that had been building inside him for weeks.

but just as you began to melt into the gentle touch, carl shifted his weight, his grip tightening on your hips as he pulled you up flush against him. the sudden movement made a soft gasp escape your lips.

“shh, just let me guide you,” he murmured.

he leaned down, his lips finding that sweet spot right once more where your neck met your shoulder. carl sucked gently on the skin, his hands sliding down to grip the back of your thighs, pulling your legs wider around his waist. you arched into him, your fingers tangling into his short hair, pulling him closer as the friction between your bodies grew hotter.

“carl, please,” you whispered, your voice thick with anticipation, your eyes begging him to close the final distance between you. “please fuck me, baby.”

he looked down at you, his eyes dark, heavy, and completely blown out with desire. a soft, incredibly tender smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he saw how desperate you were for him. he leaned down, pressing a slow, deep kiss to your lips that tasted like a promise.

“i’ve got you, angel,” he whispered against your mouth, his hands locking your hips securely in place beneath him.

his fingers hooked into the inside your thong. he peeled the fabric down your thighs, down your calves, over your ankles, and tossed the scrap of lace aside without looking where it fell.

“eyes on me,” he says. “want you watching.”

you lift your head. your gaze meets his, and the eye contact so intense you feel your throat tighten. you’re bare except for the bra, and the sudden cool air makes everything contract.

he lowers his mouth, and this time he does kiss you. not your lips, but the skin where thigh meets hip.

his tongue traces a path downward, and then you watch just as he told you to. he doesn’t start where you expect. instead, he kisses the outer folds first, one side and then the other, slow, deliberate.

you’re shaved smooth in preparation for tonight, the skin soft and bare. he parts you with two fingers, spreading you open, and when his tongue finally, finally licks a flat stripe from your entrance to your clit, the sound you make isn’t a moan.

it’s a sob. a wet, broken sound that you’d be embarrassed about if you had room for anything but the heat of his mouth. you hadn’t been touched the right way in months. this was pure bliss.

carl’s tongue circles your clit earning another moan from you. he draws it between his lips and sucks once, a slow pull that makes your vision white out at the edges. your hand flies to his hair, fingers threading through the dark curls.

he hums approval against you, and the vibration ripples through you.

“taste so good,” he murmurs, pulling back just far enough to speak. his lips shine with you. “i could do this all night.”

your chest heaves. the bra straps have slipped down your shoulders. you fumble for the clasp yourself, needing it off, needing him against bare skin, nothing between you but his hand catches yours.

“i said,” he reminds you, “i’m taking care of you.”

he reaches behind you and unhooks the bra with one pinch. the cups loosen, and he draws the straps down your arms slowly. your breasts fall free, and his eyes drop to them immediately.

“fuck.” the word is soft, almost reverent. his thumb traces your nipple, watching it tighten under his touch, and then he takes it into his mouth and your back arches so sharply you nearly slide off the bed.

but he doesn’t let you fall. his forearm locks around your hips, pinning you in place while his tongue works your breast—licking, sucking, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp—and his other hand slides back between your legs.

one finger enters you. just one, middle finger, curling upward inside your slick heat. he moves it slowly, finding that soft, ridged spot on your inner wall.

“carl.” his name comes out cracked. “baby.”

“yes, my love?” he mouth is at your ear now, his body having shifted upward. his finger still moves inside you, steady and unhurried.

“please, fuck me.” you cried once more.

he pulls his finger out bringing it to his mouth and sucking it clean while looking you dead in your eyes. then he stands, untying his shorts, letting them fall.

your jaw slightly drops at the thickness. the head flushed a deep rose. curving slightly upward, and when his hand wraps around the base, you watch a bead of pre-cum gather at the tip.

the sheets are rumpled now, warm beneath your bare back. carl climbs over you, his weight settling on his forearms, and you reach down to guide him, your fingers wrapping around his shaft, putting the tip at your entrance.

he pushes.

not fast. not hard. a slow thrust that opens you inch by inch until you’re full—so full you can’t breathe, can’t think, can only feel the stretch of him inside you, the way your pussy clenches around him.

his forehead drops to yours.

“oh baby,” he breathes. “there you are. been waiting all summer to feel you like this.”

he begins to move. a slow, rolling rhythm. and somewhere in the back of your mind you remember the cameras, the red lights, the eyes on the other side.

but you don’t care.

your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, and you pull him deeper.

your orgasm crashes through you, a wave that tears a cry from your throat, your walls clenching around him as he follows, groaning your name against your neck, his body shuddering above you.

he stays there, pressed against you, breathing ragged, his forehead resting on yours. "told you id take care of you," he whispers, a smile in his voice.

his eyes meet yours. hips haven’t moved. neither have you.

“your turn,” you say, before flipping the two of you over.

dunk has you on your back—cushioned by all of his clothes and blankets along with yours—with your knees hooked over the bend of his elbows on either side of you. his body completely blanks yours, not an inch of sweat-slicked skin left untouched by him, and his hips rolling and grinding into yours. the dark hairs that frame the cock that's hardly even leaving your slick, oversensitive cunt are creating an addictive friction against your swollen, twitching clit. his hips don't even lift up, they just flex back and forth, dragging against your puffy centre and his thick cock keeping you nice and full as he rocks into you.

he's made you cum twice already like this. with his face pressed into your hair, breathing the scent of you in with every gasp and pant, and his hands under your shoulders to press you against him tighter. you have your arms wrapped around his neck. sometimes you thread your fingers through his hair and scratch his scalp the way you know drives him crazy, but you mostly lazily hold onto him, trying with all your might to press him closer as well. he's so close, pressed so tightly to you that you don't even have to lift your head to rest the bridge of your nose against his collarbone. his big, hairy thighs shift under the swell of your hips with every rolling thrust, cradling your hips that lie elevated for him by the blankets he placed you on.

the sounds you both make are as soft as the rain around you. tender sighs that whisper across his skin, and sweet hums that roll down each dip and divot of his back. he noses his way further into your hair, presses long kisses to the sensitive skin above your ear and whines your name as if he can't find you.

the slow, steady grind of his hips kindly stokes the fire within you. there's no building tension that demands to be seen to, only the feeling of your sweat-slicked bodies moving against one another in the humid rain under a great tree keeping you safe.

you can hardly keep your eyes open at the feeling of his thick cock—consistently, steadily, with a breathtaking precision—hitting the entrance of your womb, still managing to stretch you out no matter how many times he takes you. there's no burn, only a fullness that has your head spinning from how little he's pulling out before shoving himself back in again. despite the slow and steady pace, he manages to knock the breath out of you in a way that's had your eyes rolled back since he made that first delicious thrust into you.

the fire he's been feeding and been paying close attention to has slowly started to build. the warmth growing as if you had started to simmer, getting close to a boil, and he can feel it in the way your hips start to rock into his from where he has you pressed into the pile of blankets that have become damp from how long he's had you like this, and how many times he's made you cum. you let out a long and satisfied hum when you feel the boil, feel the sweat on your forehead and brow run down into your hairline, and you mouth at the flushed and freckled skin of his neck with your teeth. dunk whines, m'darlin', and keeps his pace the same even though you've started to clench around him like a vice.

he presses you closer, his lips at your ear making you shiver when you feel him pant and gasp. you're both usually so loud when he's making you feel good, debauched sounds filling the forest or the shitty room of an inn while chasing your highs, but right now, you're addicted to the delirious, quiet sounds that escape you both without permission. it's not often he gets to have you like this, soft and relaxed with hours of you, you, you. your soft skin pressed to his as he lies on top of you, the taste of you on his tongue as he swipes at the skin behind your ear, the honey-sweet sounds you make when you start to tremble—he wants all of you, all the time.

you clutch him tighter and angle your head up to him blindly with a low, near-feverish moan in the vague shape of his name, and he turns to meet you. kiss-bitten lips slot against one another with moans, hums, and sighs spilling from the cracks the longer the boil goes on for. the kiss is sloppy and wet, just like everything else about you both right now. his tongue in your mouth, pressing in and making a mess, making your combined spit dribble out of the corner of your mouth, much like his cock was doing the same with your cunt and mixed releases.

you can feel the sweat from him mix with yours on your face, and you bring a hand up to his face. you cup his cheek, then run your fingers through the wet hair on his forehead to pull it out of the way, then you trace his face down to his jaw. you press your fingers into one cheek and cup his jaw with your thumb on the other side, holding him firmly against your mouth as that boil starts to grow hotter.

those quiet, content noises have grown into low moans muffled by your smacking lips and tangled tongues. dunk knows to keep the pace steady, knows how wrecked you'll be afterwards, and doesn't change a thing despite how you're now rocking back and forth with him.

just like the build-up, your release is drawn out. you want it so bad, you were clenching so hard. yet when it hits, your whole body—even your poor cunt—goes completely lax for a whole second before you're tensing and clenching so hard that it punches a half-sob, half-moan out of you. you're shaking so hard that a low, drawn-out groan starts, shaking along with you.

you've got dunk by the throat now, fingers squeezing and releasing the sides of his neck in a way that makes him lightheaded from the rush of blood that keeps coming in waves. you don't even realise you're doing it, and he lets out a broken, high-pitched moan right after you cum. a whine is pressed into the side of your face as your cunt milks him for all that he has, and his thighs shake at the feeling of you twitching as you come down.

you move your hand from his throat eventually, threading your fingers through his hair as you calm down from shaking to a slight tremble. you've got your face turned slightly to press against his that's turned to you on the bundle of clothing he made as a pillow for you, both of you slowly and sweetly nuzzling into one another like cats.

the summer sun still shines through the clouds, it's still humid, it hasn't stopped raining, and you both can't stop smiling.

couldn't stop thinking about this fic by @captainfern 😵‍💫

Jack never thought he'd be one of those guys.

One of those creepy old guys that have a favourite porn star, or pays for prostitutes. He's only been to a strip club once in his life when he was in the army. He'd been dragged by one of the older guys and Jack had tried to say that he had a fiance. That only made him try harder, spouting some bullshit about not being able to get married until Jack experienced the "full range of the female species" whatever the fuck that meant. Jack stopped fighting, and slipped back to the barracks as soon as his very awkward lap dance was over and called his future wife in tears.

All this to say, Jack is not a pervert.

But it's hard to be sure of this fact when he's scrolling through the options on the portal pussy website.

He's been in kind of a weird head space lately. He's felt more secure recently, almost like he's ready to start dating again but every time he thinks about going out to a bar with the explicit purpose of talking to women, or one of those godforsaken apps, his hands get clammy and he feels the begging of a panic attack starting to set in.

So maybe he's not quite ready for that step, but he's getting tired of his hand.

He doesn't even look at the thing for the first two weeks he has it, disgusted with himself for actually going through with it. The small round container with a twist off lid sits next to his bed, mocking him, reminding him of how low he's stooped.

But then his wedding anniversary rolls around. And his wife's side of the bed is still so empty.

He caves. He reaches over and twists the lid open. He's half hoping it'll be empty, that he got scammed and his credit card numbers are now on the dark web somewhere.

Instead, plump folds and pretty skin stare back at him. Guilt radiates from him in waves as he brings the container up to his nose and take a deep breathe.

Fuck, it's been too long.

His hand twitches at his side and he gives in. It's a bit strange at first, not knowing what someone's face looks like when you're pulling apart their outer folds with your fingers, looking at what you're working with. He has none of his usual tells to figure out if he's doing good or not - no changes in expression, no whispers in his ear, no full body shudders as they fall apart on his fingers.

But he's never backed down from a challenge before. He eases into it. His fingers slip through with no resistance. From the outside he doesn't have much indication about what you feel, but his mother raised a gentleman so he rubs slow circles on your clit first.

He laughs as your cunt clenches around nothing. He teases you more, two fingers sliding along your lips just ghosting over your entrance, his thumb keeping light pressure on your clit. He wishes he could see her face.

After he thinks she's had enough he slips one finger side, moaning at wet it makes when he flexes his fingers. Fuck, he missed this. He massages her walls, finding that spot that makes her squeeze his fingers.

His cock is straining against his pants. He ignores it for now, too entranced on working on the task at him. He hesitates, bringing it up to his lips. But curiosity gets the better of him. He leans forward, sucking her clit into his mouth, smiling to himself has she cums undone for him

*****

Of course, of course this new guy would chose now to use your pussy for the first time.

You slump against the bathroom door, reaching behind you with shaky hands until the lock clicks into place.

You got the notification that you had a new buyer two weeks ago. And since then nothing, you don't even think that that he's opened the damn thing in that time. And you've been wearing your special panties for your contractually obligated time, but your alarm didn't go off and you rushed to make it to your shift on time, completely forgetting about your side hustle.

You slump against the sink, biting down on your fist to keep from moaning out.

You're a little pissed off, the first time your client is actually good at sex and you're at work. You're still new to this, your past two clients never gave a shit about your body. They'd use your pussy without so much as touching your clit. Which didn't surprise you, you'd only signed up to make some extra cash during residency.

But this new client was playing your body like a damn fiddle.

It was difficult enough to ignore when he was teasing your folds while you were trying to explain the disimpaction procedure to your elderly patient. But then his stupidly thick fingers had stretched you open and you were scrambling to the bathroom before you orgasmed in front of poor 80 year old Mrs. Bennet and her concerned teenage grandchild who brought her in.

The room suddenly gets very hot as his fingers start to curl inside you. You're panting, hunched over the sink as you struggle to breathe. That fucking asshole, keeping you on edge - letting you get so close to what you want but not letting you finish.

You take a peak at your watch, someone's definitely going to start wondering where you are soon.

But it's really hard to care when the prick of stubble scratches at your lips before he sucks on your clit. Your eyes shoot open, chest heaving as you bite down on your fist so hard you taste metal on your tongue.