I edge him like that. Stop the pumping. Wait. Pump again. I feel him fighting the urge to twitch and chase the friction. He barely wins.
Good. I don’t want his reaction. I don’t need it.
What I need is the dead weight. I need the blank doll-eyed stare, and the fact that he’s just a piece of meat I get to use in my truck. That’s the shit that has my brain absolutely fried. That’s always been the part.
I pry his jaw open again. Drag up more spit from the back of my throat. Tilt him back. And drop it straight in.
I watch him swallow when it pools in the back of his mouth, completely passive. I slam my fingers back in immediately—deep past the hump of his tongue, right back into the tight grip of his gag reflex.
“That’s it,” I murmur, pumping my fingers while his throat convulses around them. “That’s the nastiest thing I’ve ever done, and I want to keep doing it. I’m completely fucked in the head for you, doll.” I drag them out dripping with thick throat-spit, and slather every drop of it onto my cock.
I line it up with his hole, lock both hands onto his hips—fingers digging in hard, because I want marks—and I drag his weight down onto my dick.
Oh, fuck!
Holy fuck, it feels incredible!
I lean all the way back in my seat, head dropping, and justfeelit. The scalding heat, the violent clench, the virgin-tight squeeze. I strangle the headrest with one hand and crush his hip with the other, fighting for my life not to bust in three seconds.
I’m not joking when I say that’s a hard task.
“Holy—” I can’t even finish the sentence. I roll my hips up, just a shallow grind to test exactly how tight it is, and my jaw drops open. “You feel like— Fuck—” I roll my head back and laugh at the ceiling, totally delirious. “Three weeks of going out of my mind, and this sweet little cunt has been right down the hall. Free to use.”
I have never looked at a dude like this. This is not something I think about. This isnotmy thing. I have a girlfriend and a type, and none of it has anything to do with what I’m currently doing.
And yet, my hips keep driving forward, my cock buried deep inside his tight ass. Every time I bottom out, a filthy groan rips out of my throat and I can do nothing to stop it.
“So fucking tight,” I pant, feeling wrecked myself. “You’re gripping me so good, doll. I swear to God, I swear to God you’re—”
I get my mouth on his nipple and bite down mid-stroke. He clamps down on my dick instantly, and my hips stutter because the sensation almost takes me out. I suck hard, sloppy, messy about it, and feel his body just taking the abuse.
“Nastiest little bitch I know. Pushing a cart in the grocery store, looking like a normal bro—all while having this slutty hole between your legs.” I hammer up into him and have to throw my head back against the seat again. “Fuck! Fuck! Feel how deep my fat cock is, doll? Feel my log splitting your cunt? You make me so fucking hard—!”
I shove three fingers back down his throat just to steal more spit.
I want to ruin him.
There is something genuinely psychotic about how much I love the filth of this. How I love to see spit on his chin, marks on his throat, and his sweatpants bunched at his thighs because I couldn’t even be bothered to strip my toy before I started using it.
I drag my fingers out, watching the strings break, and slather the mess all over his chest, rubbing it into the bite marks. Just because I want to.
“You’re so fucking nasty, doll,” I say, and I mean it like a compliment. I mean it like the best thing I know how to say. “You love this sick shit, don’t you? You don’t have to do shit, just sit there and be my personal fuck-sleeve.” I roll my hips in a deep grind, and my voice drops to nothing. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good—”
I grab the back of his neck, shove his face into my shoulder, and stop holding back.
No more pretending to be measured about it.
I start pounding him. Fast, deep, heavy strokes that have the suspension on the truck rocking. I’m loud about it too, because I can’t stop myself—animal grunts, filthy talk, and just a constant chant offuck.I get a hand between us, and grip his nipple again. I love to pinch them hard and hear no sound coming from his mouth—instead, he clenches his hole real good.
I feel his hand grip my thigh, bracing himself.
“Don’t fucking move,” I say into his hair. “You sit right there and you take it, doll. Toys don’t move. Toys don’t make noise. You don’t get to do anything except sit on my cock and begoodfor me.”
I slam up into him again. His hole’s so wrecked it just swallows me whole with no resistance anymore. It’s crazy how much better it feels when there’s no resistance. When he’s just loose and unresponsive.
“And you’re taking it so good, doll. Best fucking hole I’ve ever—better than any pussy.”
I grab his hair and yank his head back.
