girl, whatever!

Macklin has you on your back in the middle of the big bed, your legs draped over his forearms, his body caging you in. The only light is the warm glow from the lamp on the nightstand, and it paints everything in soft gold—his broad shoulders, the flex of muscle in his arms, the dark heat in his eyes as he looks down at you like he wants to devour every reaction.

He’s been working you up for ages with his mouth and his hands and that low, filthy voice. Now the thick head of his cock is pressing against your entrance, and he’s pushing in so slowly you can feel every single inch stretching you open.

Your breath catches. “Fuck, Macklin…”

He groans, sinking deeper until his hips are flush against yours and you’re completely full. The stretch burns in the best way. You’re so wet it’s obscene, but he’s still big enough that your body has to adjust around him.

He doesn’t move right away. His gaze drops between your bodies, and his hands slide down to grip the backs of your thighs. His thumbs press in, firm and deliberate, and then he’s spreading you wider—both hands holding you open so he can see exactly where his cock is buried inside you.

The sound you make is helpless.

“Look at that,” he murmurs, voice rough and low. His thumbs stroke little circles on your skin while he keeps you spread. “Fuck, baby… look how pretty you look taking me. Your pussy’s stretched so tight around my cock. So fucking perfect.”

You can’t look away from his face—how focused he is, how dark his eyes have gone as he watches the way your cunt clings to him. The vulnerability of being held open like this, of him seeing every flutter and clench, makes heat flood through you “Macklin…” Your voice comes out shaky. “It feels… God, it feels so big when you hold me open like that.”

He makes a low, approving sound and draws his hips back slowly, almost pulling all the way out. Both of you watch the way your pussy stretches around the head of his cock, shiny and puffy and reluctant to let him go. Then he pushes back in, smooth and deep, and the wet sound is filthy.

“You’re dripping,” he says, almost reverent. “Look at the mess you’re making already. All because I’m telling you how pretty you look getting stretched open on my cock.”

Your face burns, but your walls clench hard around him in response. You can feel how much wetter you just got, “Yeah,” you breathe, voice trembling but honest. “It’s your voice… the way you talk to me. I can feel myself getting wetter every time you say something filthy. Can you see it?”

His eyes flick up to yours for a second, hot and pleased, then drop right back down to watch as he pulls out again—slow, so you both see every inch “I can see it,” he says. “Your pussy’s getting all creamy for me. Every time I tell you how good you look, you clench and drip even more. Fuck, that’s hot.”

He starts a slow, deep rhythm—thrusting all the way in, then dragging back out until just the head is inside before sinking in again. The whole time his hands stay on you, thumbs hooked to keep your folds spread wide so nothing is hidden from him. Every time he bottoms out you can feel the pressure of his thumbs holding you open, and it makes the stretch feel even more intense, you moan, head tipping back. “Macklin—shit—don’t stop talking. Please. Tell me what you see.”

He lets out a rough laugh, but his voice stays low and steady. “I see my cock splitting this pretty pussy open. I see how tight you are around me, how your walls are gripping every inch. I see how wet you are—fuck, baby, it’s running down my balls. You’re making such a mess and I’ve barely started.”

Your hands fist in the sheets. Your thighs twitch in his grip, but he holds you firm “Tell me how it feels,” he says. “Tell me what it does to you when I hold you open and watch.”

You swallow, voice coming out breathy and wrecked. “It feels… exposed. Like you can see everything. Every time you pull out I can feel how stretched I am, how empty I get until you push back in. And when you talk like that—telling me how pretty I look, how wet I’m getting from your words—it makes me clench so hard around you. I can feel myself dripping more. It’s embarrassing how much I like it.”

Macklin’s hips stutter for a second, like your words hit him hard. He pushes in deep and stays there, grinding slow circles while he watches the way your cunt flutters around the base of his cock.

“Embarrassing?” he echoes, voice darker. “Nah, baby. It’s fucking perfect. Look at you—telling me how much you like being watched while I fuck you open. My good girl.”

He pulls out again, slower this time, and the wet sound is louder. You both watch the way your arousal coats him, strings of it connecting you for a second before he sinks back in “See that?” he murmurs. “That’s how wet you get just from the way I talk. Every filthy thing I say makes this pretty pussy drool for me.”

You’re panting now, hips trying to rock up into him even though he’s holding you steady. “I can’t help it,” you admit, voice cracking. “Your voice… the way you describe it… it goes straight to my clit. I’m throbbing and you’re not even touching it. Just holding me open and telling me how I look stretched around your cock.”

He groans, low and rough, and speeds up just a little—still deep, still controlled, but with more purpose. Every thrust makes your breasts bounce and your breath hitch “Keep talking,” he says. “Tell me what you want. Tell me how it feels when I watch you like this.”

You’re close already—too close from the combination of the slow, relentless stretch and the constant stream of praise and filth. Your voice comes out higher, needier.

“I want you to keep doing exactly this,” you gasp. “Hold me open. Watch your cock go in and out. Tell me how pretty I look while I’m taking you. I—I like hearing how wet I am. I like knowing you can see everything. It’s making me—fuck, Macklin, I’m gonna come if you keep talking like that.”

His eyes are locked on the place where you’re joined, watching every flutter, every fresh spill of slick as your orgasm starts to crest “Yeah?” His voice is strained now, but he doesn’t stop the slow, deep rhythm. “You gonna come just from this? Just from me holding this pretty pussy open and telling you how good you look getting fucked?”

“Yes—God, yes—” Your words dissolve into a moan as it hits you. Your back arches hard, thighs shaking in his grip, and your cunt clamps down around him in tight, rhythmic pulses. You can feel yourself gushing, can hear how much wetter it gets, and Macklin watches every second of it with dark, hungry eyes.

“Fuck, there it is,” he groans. “Look at you—coming so pretty while I’m buried inside you. Your pussy’s milking me so tight… and you’re even wetter now. Made such a mess, baby. All over my cock.”

He doesn’t pull out. Doesn’t stop moving. He fucks you through it with those same slow, deep thrusts, holding you spread open the entire time so he can watch the way your orgasm makes everything puffy and shiny and clenching.

You’re babbling now, oversensitive and floating. “Macklin—oh my God—it’s too much—feels so good—don’t stop, please don’t stop talking—”

“I’m not stopping,” he promises, voice rough. “Not until I’ve watched you come at least one more time like this. Not until I’ve seen how messy this pretty cunt can get when I keep telling you how good you look stretched around me.”

He leans down just enough to kiss the inside of your thigh without losing the angle or the grip he has on you. Then he’s back to watching, back to that slow, devastating rhythm.

“Tell me what you’re feeling now,” he says. “After coming on my cock while I held you open. Tell me how it feels.”

You’re trembling, voice wrecked and honest. “It feels… swollen. So sensitive. Every time you push in I can feel how puffy I am around you. And I’m so wet—fuck, I can hear it. It’s dripping down my ass. Your words are still making it worse. Every time you call me pretty or tell me how I’m stretched I clench again and more comes out. I can’t stop it.”

Macklin’s breathing is heavier now, but he keeps his pace steady, eyes fixed on the obscene, beautiful sight of his cock disappearing into your messy, well-fucked pussy.

“Good,” he murmurs. “I want you messy. I want you dripping. I want you to feel how much you like it when I watch you like this—when I hold you open and tell you exactly what I see.”

He shifts his grip slightly, thumbs pressing a little firmer to spread you even wider on the next thrust, and the new angle makes you cry out.

“There,” you gasp. “Right there—fuck, Macklin, that’s so deep. I can feel you in my stomach when you do that. And with your hands holding me open like this… I feel everything. Every inch. Every time you twitch inside me.”

He lets out a low, filthy sound. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep talking like that. Keep telling me how it feels. Keep telling me how pretty you look getting fucked open.”

You’re building again—slower this time, deeper, the kind of orgasm that feels like it’s going to wreck you. Your voice is shaky but you give him what he wants.

“I look… obscene,” you whisper. “All spread out and shiny and stretched around your cock. And you’re watching it like you can’t look away. That makes me feel… powerful. And slutty. And so fucking turned on I can’t think. Every time you tell me I’m pretty like this I want to come again. I want you to see it happen. I want you to watch my pussy spasm and drip while you’re inside me.”

Macklin’s rhythm falters for the first time. His hands tighten on your thighs “Fuck, baby…” His voice cracks a little. “You’re perfect. Keep going. I’m close.”

You keep talking through it, voice breaking as the pleasure coils tighte “I can feel you getting harder,” you tell him. “Every time I say something dirty you twitch inside me. You like hearing me say how much I love being held open and watched. You like knowing your words are making my pussy this wet and messy. I’m gonna come again, Macklin—I’m gonna come while you’re watching your cock stretch me open—”

It hits harder than the first one. Your whole body locks up, a broken cry tearing from your throat as your pussy convulses around him. You can feel it—feel the way you gush around his cock, feel how much wetter and sloppier it gets. Macklin watches every second, eyes glazed with lust, murmuring praise the whole time.

“So fucking pretty—fuck, look at that—coming so hard for me while I hold you open. God, you’re squeezing me so tight. Such a good girl. My pretty, messy girl.”

He lasts only a few more thrusts before he’s coming too—buried deep, hips stuttering, a low groan ripping from his chest. You feel the heat of it, feel him pulse inside you while he keeps you spread wide so he can watch the way your cunt flutters and milks him through it.

For a long moment the only sounds are your ragged breathing and the wet, obscene slick of your bodies.

Then Macklin carefully eases his grip, thumbs stroking soothing circles on your inner thighs as he slowly lets your legs down. He stays inside you for a little longer, leaning down to kiss your forehead, your cheeks, your mouth—soft and sweet even while you’re both still shaking.

When he finally pulls out, you both watch the mess that follows—his come and your slick leaking out of your puffy, well-used pussy. He makes a low, appreciative sound and gently uses his thumbs to spread you one more time, just to see “Still so pretty,” he murmurs, almost to himself. Then he looks up at you, eyes soft now. “You okay?”

You nod, voice hoarse but smiling. “More than okay. That was… intense. In the best way.” He grins, that boyish, devastating smile, and leans in to kiss you again—slow and deep and full of affection.

“Good,” he says against your lips. “Because next time I want you to talk even more. Want to hear every filthy thing that goes through your head while I’m holding you open and watching you take me.”

You laugh breathlessly, already feeling the heat spark again at the promise in his voice “Deal,” you whisper. “But only if you keep telling me how pretty I look the whole time.”