My bra was tossed aside. His eyes devoured the soft weight of my breasts, and my nipples were already puckered from arousal. His cock, rock-hard now, lay against my belly, and the heat of it promised destruction. I shivered.
“You wanted this badly, didn’t you?” he asked, fingers tugging at the black lace thong that was now soaking wet.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Of course you did,” he said, voice low and amused. “I’m gonna enjoy watching you scream my name every time you cum like a cheap slut!”
I didn’t deny it. Instead, I hooked my finger under the strap of the thong and slid it down slowly, letting it catch on my thighs before I kicked it off.
“Take a good look, this is what you’re about to fuck! You lucky bastard.”
He leaned in, lips brushing my ear. “Good girl”
I tried to kiss him, but he pulled back.
“Fuck you,” I hissed, breathless.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” he shot back.
My lips parted in protest, but he was already grabbing the condom. The foil tore with a crisp rip that echoed louder than the jazz playing faintly in the room.
“Wait,” I said, biting my lip as I spread my legs for him, “Are you sure you don’t want to fuck me raw?”
He gave me a sharp look. “You’d love to feel me? Won’t you? But I don’t trust sluts like you.”
His words stung in the hottest way possible. I wanted to slap him and moan at the same time.
“Fine,” I snapped.
He rolled the condom on with a tight fit on that thick, twitching cock. Then he grabbed both my ankles and yanked me hard to the edge of the bed, forcing a gasp out of me.
My legs were spread wide now, pussy glistening, waiting to be used like it was meant to be. I watched his cock hover at my entrance. He rubbed the tip against me, slow, maddening strokes that made me buck my hips for more.
“You begged for this cock. Now fucking take it,” he said, grabbing my thighs and slamming into me in one brutal, glorious thrust.
“Harder. I want to feel you in my tummy,” I screamed.
With the next thrust, he went in balls deep! There was no warning. Just rugged, hot, perfect penetration that stretched me open and filled me up completely. The feelings were so wild, and my mind scrambled to make sensible decisions. This 20-something-year-old bastard was teasing me in ways I never knew I needed.
“Oh fuck, Aman!” I clawed at the sheets, my body overwhelmed. My pussy got extra moist, feeling him move inside me.
He started fucking me with intensity. Deep, deliberate strokes. My moans mixed in with the noise of the squeaking mattress and music in the background. He slammed against my thighs as he leaned over me. His one hand wrapped around my throat, not choking, just claiming.
“You’ve been such a mouthy little bitch,” he hissed against my ear. “Bet your pussy’s the only part that knows how to behave.”
“Harder,” I gasped, “I want it to hurt tomorrow.”
God! What am I saying? Shit, this sex made me turn into a mad bitch.
He grinned. “Tomorrow? You’ll feel sore every time you think about me.”
He flipped me over in doggy like a doll, yanked my hips up, and spanked me before he slammed back inside. The sound of our bodies meeting echoed in the room, louder than the music. I arched and cried out, “Harder, Aman. Fuck me like you hate me.” He pounded into me.
“Look at you,” he said, gripping my hair and pulling me back to arch my back more, “Taking cock like you were made for it.”
“Your cock,” I moaned, “Yours, Aman.”
“That’s right,” he growled, slapping my ass hard. “Say it louder.”
“I’M MADE FOR YOUR COCK!”
Smack.
“You wanted to be ruined?” he said, voice rough. “Say it.”
“I wanted to be fucking ruined!”
Smack.
He leaned forward, biting my shoulder so hard I felt the skin rise. “You are now.”
His thrusts never stopped. I was dripping, panting, my legs shaking, but he kept going like he was obsessed. He bent lower and left marks on my back. On my ass. On the side of my tits. His love bites, and hand prints on my skin owned me in a way my husband never could even with his words.
“I’M GOING TO CUM!” I exclaimed as the sensations took the better of me. I orgasmed and dropped on the bed instantly. “Fuck!” My body was tensed, and pussy twitching.
When he flipped me again, I saw the look in his eyes. That was wild, carnal, dark with need. He wrapped his hand around my neck again and whispered, “Is that it?”
I denied. “No. I want more. But please be gentle.”
“Oh baby,” he said, positioning himself again, “Gentle is for girlfriends. You’re my filthy slut tonight.”
He fucked me in missionary, eyes locked with mine. My legs wrapped around him as I moaned into his mouth, and finally, finally, he kissed me. Hard. Like he’d been holding it back to watch me beg. When he broke the kiss, I whimpered.
He pulled out suddenly, “Get on top,” he ordered.
I climbed on, body aching in the best way. His cock was still rock hard and angry for action. These young men are perfect toys for good sex. He was rock hard and ready to fuck more.
I straddled him like a cheerful slut, and lowered myself down on him. My body screamed in pleasure, feeling him stretch me out. He gripped my hips and guided me up and down.
He was letting me ride him until the rhythm got harmonious, skin slapping skin, sweat dripping from my breasts onto his chest.
“Your tits,” he muttered, squeezing them, licking between them, biting the nipple of one. “Fuck, they bounce like a dream.”
I grabbed his throat lightly, playing his game.
“You love watching me fuck you, don’t you?”
He growled. “I love sluts like you.”
I sped up, grinding and circling, using every angle until he was groaning, head thrown back, cock twitching inside me.
“God, you ride like you’ll never get this again,” he hissed.
“Maybe I won’t,” I panted. “So shut up and let me finish first.”
“Fucking hell,” he growled, gripping my hips tighter. “You’re going to make me cum again.”
Sure enough, I fucking came.
I screamed his name as I clenched my wet pussy around his cock, my whole body convulsing as pleasure took over. I collapsed on his chest, breathing ragged, but he kept fucking me.
“I’m gonna cum, too,” Hearing him say that made me quickly dismount him, and I took his condom off. Stroking his manhood till it shot right at me, covering my tits. Hot, heavy spurts that marked my sweaty tits like a trophy.
He then pulled me against his chest.
“I’m not done with you,” he whispered into my hair.
I smiled lazily, aching and happy. “Neither am I.”
My body was wrecked. Bruised. Kissed. Bitten. Fucked.
He didn’t speak much after that and just rested.
I got up to drink some water but caught myself smiling as I saw myself in the mirror. Messy hair and makeup. There were marks down my waist. Across my breasts. On my inner thighs and ass.
“He had me every night and still never figured out what turns me into this, poor bastard,” I smirked, thinking about my beloved husband.
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