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I don’t know where this side of me is coming from. I feel unhinged. Unravelling.

He’s got all four fingers in to the knuckles when he leans over and gets the lube from the bedside table. I hear the squirt and feel the cold slimy relief as he uses it to play around inside me. He explores the filthy depths like he’s rooting for treasure.

I’m grunting and slamming back against him when he switches from four fingers down to two.

I curse at the disappointment, but he gives me a shh.

“Don’t worry, Dirty Boy. It’s coming.”

He still has two fingers in my ass when I feel the head of his cock lining up against them.

Jack doesn’t take it gently, not this time. He’s a hardcore sonofabitch when he slams in to the balls, using his fingers as extra leverage. But it’s what I want. What I crave. What my cock is crying out for along with my burning asshole.

“Still wanna take more, Dirty Boy?” His voice is breathy. “Better ask nicely if you do.”

“You already know the answer, so stop fucking around. Play the game like you’re out to win it.”

“I’ll always fucking win it,” he says. “You’re welcome.”

I cry out when he digs his other two fingers back in along with his cock, four fingers holding me open while his dick rams its way in and out of me. It’s a dirty stretch. A slimy, filthy, delightful burn as his balls slap my thighs and he finds his rhythm.

I need Jack to overpower the secrets in my head, so there is no Alice and Christopher, no terrible truth waiting to be spoken. Only Jack, driving every sensible thought out of me.

He does it in a way nobody else ever could.

“You’re not gonna be able to sit straight for days,” he says. “I’m making an absolute wreck of you.”

I grit my teeth and smile, arching my back like I’m proud of it.

I glow with the burn, bask in the heat, lose myself in the riot he’s creating inside me.

My cock is rock hard underneath me, cum straining in my balls. My low groans are so far from reserved it makes a mockery of the fake polished sheen I hide behind at the office.

“Wanna up the game?” Jack asks. “Go big or go home?”

“Go big, since I’m already home,” I reply, lost to all sensibility.

“Ha! Good boy,” Jack says.

He pulls out of me and switches the game up, so slick with the moves that my head is still playing catch up when he plugs his fingers in on another kind of level.

More lube, and he goes for it. His four fingers are primed for more this time, his thumb lined up like a spear along with them.

I’ve never managed a fist before. Never been brave enough to succumb to Jack’s filthy methods and make it that far. I’ve always baulked at the last minute. But this is a bravery I need, to counteract my cowardice. To neutralise the bastard demons.

I burrow my head and bite at the bedsheets as he plug, plug, plugs his way into me. I cry out when the pop of his thumb knuckle finally gets sucked inside me.

He’s all in.

His whole filthy fist is inside me.

“Nice and easy. Good boy,” he says and I pant and groan as he slows down, sunken deep. He twists his hand back and forth, and the pleasure is like heaven on earth through the hell.

“Told you you’d like it,” he says, and his tongue sweeps up my ass cheek. He nips me before he laughs and pulls away. “Now, let’s take it slowly. Nice and slow, BT. I don’t want to be tearing your pretty asshole inside out.”

His hand is a beautiful weapon, gliding its way in and out of my trashed, lubed up ass. I’m on a hedonistic high, but he won’t let me speed it up, bracing himself against me to keep me still.

Control.