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The third is that this man gives not a single damn about my need to adjust. He waits until my scream turns to a whimper, and then he holds me still with a hand on my throat and another perched on my hip and drives his cock into me over and over without mercy.
It’s a slick, squelchy glide that slowly loses its bite. The pain becomes a fraction of the sensations as he angles his hips and finds pleasure centers buried so deep he might become a permanent part of me.
Soon the cries and the sobs turn to moans as his grips become bruising and he grinds his hips into my ass with deep, slow thrusts that make me feel alarmingly full.
“I need to feel you come around me.”
I shake my head even as the tendrils of orgasm take hold. “I can’t. I don’t want to.”
A rough smack lands on my dick, which only serves to make the building pressure worse.
“Good sluts come when they’re told.”
The stranger spits into his hand—the one that left bruises on my hip—and takes my cock in his fist to jerk it fast and hard.
Sparks fly behind my eyes, and I sob a needy, broken sound that gets abruptly cut off by a hand over my mouth.
One breath in.
Two.
Three.
His fingers close over my nose and push my head back against his shoulder.
“Come for me, you useless whore. Show me what your hole was made for. Being fucked and soaking my dick in cum.”
It could be the lack of oxygen, the relentless assault of friction on my cock, or the drag of his dick on my sore and sensitive walls—it could be any one or combination of those three things that has me barreling over the edge of orgasm.
Most of all, it’s those filthy, degrading words that sink in and light my body on fire.
Useless whore.
Good sluts.
Every nerve is frayed, going off like poppers on the fourth of July. Little sparks of light in the darkness as reality starts to fade.
A fresh breath slams into my lungs followed by gulps of air like one would gulp water from a stream. They’re mixed with groans and cries and screams I didn’t even know I could let out—less human and more like a vulture with a rip in its wings.
I’ve hardly caught my breath when I’m turned and shoved to my knees. My vision is still splotchy and swimmy, but I see the man above me jacking his dick with a dark, twisted promise in his eyes.
He grips my chin, and with no force needed, I drop my jaw open. I’m too tired to pretend I don’t know exactly what he wants.
“Good fucking boy,” he growls. “You want my cum? First you’ve gotta suck my dick dry of yours.”
It presses to my parted lips, and I take him in as easily as my front hole accepted him.
He sinks down to the base, gripping his hands in my hair and guiding my mouth.
Up and down his length.
Into my throat until I gag.
When he stops somewhere in the middle, I close my eyes and suck like my life depends on it.
It’s not as salty as Corvin’s cum, but it’s got a tang and musky quality to it that’s just as satisfying.
The dick thickens in my mouth, but before a spurt of cum can be wasted in the condom still tightly wrapped around his length, my stranger pulls himself from my mouth and throws me back onto the hook of the car.
