Have You Any Dreams You’d Like To Sell?

you're shy. shy and unexperienced.

you're quiet. especially during sex. you don't moan loud, doesn't beg and doesn't whine and whimper. most jack can get out of you is a few sighs, hands gripping the sheets and teeth digging into her bottom lip or his shoulder.

she doesn't initiate sex. doesn't ask for what she wants — and not because she doesn't want it, but because she cannot mutter the words. but jack would always know, the way your cheeks would heat up, flushing pink all the way down to your neck and chest. he'd always cave and make sweet love to you, and he'd be especially thorough, always making sure to get you to cum.

but after a while, he grew tired of this. jack wanted everything. everything from you. every sound, every moan, every whimper. he wanted it all. it was his personal mission now: get you to lose your mind.

jack has you on your back, spread out on the middle of the bed. jack himself is on his stomach, between your thighs. and he's been bullying your cunt with his thick fingers, plunging them deep, dragging them out on your soft walls.

but not a single loud moan from your lips yet.

your pussy lips are puffy, swollen and red from the stimulation. jack doesn't let you cum just yet. he'll get you close enough, until you're clenching and writhing, then stop it all.

"aw, look at you, baby," he coos at your pussy, using both middle fingers of his other hand to spread your folds for his gaze.

"jack," you whisper, so desperate. by now, you're leaking all over his hand, the insides of your thighs all slick and messy.

"c'mon, sweetheart, you can do better than that," he says. but his resolved has changed now.

the thrusts in his fingers, deep and harsh, curling them just right against that spongey spot. you gasp, your hole clenching hard.

jack doesn't stop, bringing you to the orgasm quickly. your back arching off the bed as your thighs close around hir arm. "nu-uh, baby. keep 'em, open," he says.

"jackie, it's too much," you whine when he keeps drilling his fingers into your cunt. well, that's a first.

"i know, baby. i know. but you can give me another one, can't you?" he mocks, bringing his face down to give your clit a little lick. "just one, honey. yeah?"

you nod, and, oh, poor you.

your second orgasm builds up quickly, your pussy squeezing at his fingers. "c'mon, sweetheart. you can be a little louder for me, mhm?" he hums, watching your body squirm and writhe on the bed.

you shake your head, the idea of making noise making your heart beat so fast in panic. what if you sound weird? what if you're too loud? what if he doesn't like how you sound—

"i can see you overthinking," he says. "get outta your head alright, honey. you don't have to sound like a pornstar. i just wanna hear you, okay? just wanna hear my best girl. how good i'm making her feel."

"jackie," you whisper, pouting at him. the sheets beneath you grow a shade darker with your arousal that keeps dripping out of you.

"little louder, baby," he asks you.

you can't. it's like a physical weight on your neck, making it impossible. the words won't come out.

jack sighs, and for a moment you think he's disappointed. but no, he is determined. he will make you louder by the end of the night.

his lips seal around your clit, suckling at it, swirling his tongue around. he groans when your hand grips his hair. he keeps torturing your clit with his mouth, toying with it, and his fingers keep hitting the spot that makes you see stars.

that second orgasm leaves you reeling, your mind going fuzzy. you're starting to make some noise — a few mewls, whines, but not nearly what jack wants. he wants you loud. wants you to bed for what you want.

"you wanna be my good girl, don't you, honey," he mumbles, licking at your folds, pulling the soft flesh between his lips. you nod desperately from above and he smiles.

so he doesn't stop. you're sensitive, he knows that. your poor pussy must be feeling raw after two back-to-back orgasms he pulled out of you. too bad, he doesn't care. unless you tell him to stop — and you haven't —, he doesn't care.

"jackie, jackie, jackie—" you whimper, tears building up behind your eyes.

"there's my sweet girl," he chuckles against your cunt, the sound rumbling through you. "little louder, baby. i'm an old man, my hearing isn't what it used to be," he winks at you from between your legs. he's playing with you and you know it.

the familiar sensation of your orgasm building up is back, making you clench and squeeze at his fingers. jack groans at that, his hips bucking against the bed. he's humping the bed like teenager, and not the fifty year old man he is.

"jack, stop, stop," you say, swatting at his forehead. "i gotta… i…" you stammer, eyes rolling back.

"what?"

"it feels like-like… i gotta go pee," you say.

"mhm," he hums. pretends to think about it. "no," he says, diving back to lap at your weeping cunt in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

"what— jack!" you moan, and this one is loud, your back bowing off the bed in a pretty arch.

"that's okay, sweetheart," he says. "just this one more, okay? then we're done, honey. i promise," he kisses the insides of your thighs. every time his fingers thrust into you, your pussy squelches, wet and loud. "you have the prettiest cunt, you know that. the prettiest i've ever seen," he kisses your folds again.

"jack, no…" you cry out, desperate, because you're about to make a mess.

"it's okay, sweetheart. it's normal, yeah? it's just your body reacting. nothing to be ashamed of," he calms you down.

eventually, it's too strong to hold back. you sob, your thighs clenching around his head and you come.