🖤

So how fast can we do this?

I'm thinking something like two minutes.

Maybe three if I'm feeling generous.

Walking through the door, pushing you face down into the couch, shoving your skirt up just far enough and driving straight in. That wet sound of me forcing my cock into you while you're still adjusting to the stretch. Pulling you back onto me while I hold on tight and keep you steady. Hard fast strokes that serve exactly one purpose. My hips slamming against your ass while I use you the way I always do. Me climbing to the peak, and you just barely managing to hold on.

And you love this. That's what makes you so special. You love that I walked through the door and had my cock inside you before you finished your sentence. You love feeling how hard I am, how much I leaked just thinking about you. You love being fucked feral, like you're just a warm little rag doll that has to take it while you get thrown around. Because both of us know that the less I care about your pleasure the wetter you get. Every selfish thrust is doing more for you than an hour of foreplay ever could.

You're whining into the cushion and I'm not even listening because a minute has gone by and I know I'm running out of time. I bury myself as deep as I can and that's when you know I'm cumming. Groaning through every pulse while I hold your hips flush against mine. A few heavy ropes and then the rest leaking out around my cock, but I keep grinding through it, spreading the mess around because I want every last drop inside you.

Pulling out. Breathing hard. Giving your ass a little slap.

Thanks baby. Fuck, I needed that.

That's why I'm stuffing them into your mouth. Don't look at me like that. This is for your own good.

I need you to taste what you've been sitting in all day. That slick patch you've been ignoring. I want it on your tongue, sinking into it, so you can finally understand what your body has been doing while you were busy keeping up appearances. I want you to lie there with your jaw stretched around the lace and breathe through your nose and really sit with the fact that this is what you taste like when you need me this badly. You didn't even know.

And then I'll guide my cock into you while your mouth is still full.

I want to fuck you while you taste yourself. I want every thrust to push a muffled little sound out of you that gets caught in the fabric and comes out as nothing. I want you biting down on your own soaked panties every time I bottom out, fresh wet flooding your tongue, reminding you. You can't moan. You can't beg. You can't tell me how good it feels. All you can do is drool and look up at me with glassy eyes while I hold this pace. Slow. Deep. Feeling you squeeze around my cock while your mouth is full of proof that you were ready for this before I even touched you.

And you're going to get wetter. Obviously. You're going to soak my cock while you drool through your panties. Leaking from both ends for me. I'll feel it every time I push in, how much slicker you're getting, your pussy making a mess of both of us. I'll keep you pinned right here between the taste of your own need and the feeling of me feeding it. Stoking it higher on purpose. Every stroke reminding you of the reality you tried to file away.

And while he’s busy he gave you one simple rule: rub your cunt until he says stop. So you keep going. Your clit so sensitive it feels like it’s vibrating on its own. Coated in your own juices, dripping onto the floor, drifting in and out of a haze of exhaustion and overstimulation. You want to beg him to let you cum, or just to let you rest, but you know better.

You’re just background noise to him. A sex toy he left running while he focuses on things too complicated for you to understand. So you keep those fingers moving, because you’re his good little fuck doll.