Page 55 of Filthy Truth


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“Are you freakin’ kidding me?” he retorted, groaning as his pre-cum lubed his path, making this doubly torturous.

“No, I’m not,” I breathed. “You work or I stop.”

He stilled. “You can’t be serious.”

Not a question.

I grunted. “I am.”

“Fuck’s sake,” he mumbled under his breath as he wheeled us closer to his desk and dragged his keyboard nearer to the edge so that he could work around me.

As Velato made an appearance in front of me, the abstract language that he’d learned and the many weird and wonderful ways he’d adapted it for his own use, I registered it was my version of porn.

The lines of code were the theme, the letters and digits were the stars, and the tap of his fingers were the moans of the entertainers.

I rocked my hips from side to side, feeling the hiccup in my breathing as the ride toward pleasure moved faster than usual.

For once, it didn’t feel so out of reach. I could sense it. So close. So fucking close.

My pussy leaked onto him, making the whole thing so messy I knew he’d have to change afterward, but I didn’t give a fuck.

This was fun.

My mind was on my pleasure.

I was watching him work.

He surrounded me, his scent, his heat.

His cock provided me with the slippery lube that kept my clit reeling as it pushed me ever higher toward the peak.

When I thought I’d go mad from it, I wriggled so that his tip was against my slit. As he pierced me, the thick fullness accepted into my channel, his groan was the best sound I’d ever heard as my pussy swallowed him down inch by inch.

As I sat there, stuffed with him, his fingers moved faster on the keyboard, whereas mine clung to the armrests of his seat, nails digging into the soft leather as I breathed through the solid presence inside me.

He was thick—thicker than average, I thought. It meant when I stared down, my labia were spread apart, my clit peeping out of its hood.

For a few moments, I just studied us.

My eyes locked on our union.

But as I looked, my pussy responded in turn, and I clamped around him which made the vein at the base of his dick throb in reaction and his balls draw up.

Reaching down, I ran my fingers over the taut flesh, enjoying his second groan which morphed into a, “If you keep on doing that, I’m going to come.”

“Who said that wasn’t my end goal?” I breathed, not bothering to ride him just rubbing my clit and letting the clenching of my inner muscles torment him as he worked.

When a shockwave of pleasure rushed through me at my fast-paced fingers, he stunned the hell out of me.

One second, I was on his lap, and the next, he was snapping, "Done," and I was facedown against the desk, my elbows on the glass surface.

His first thrust, he took slow, as if waiting for me to freak out, but I squeezed him tight in greeting, which broke the reins he had on his control and had him bucking into me.

One hand against my stomach, the other he used to shove my fingers away.

As he rubbed my clit, he fucked me.

Hard enough for his monitors to shake, fast enough for his thickness to pound into parts of me that felt untouched.

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