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“Are you asking if you’re the filth?”
“I know I’m the fucking filth. You love filth, don’t you, MG?” I ask, voice full of loathing and challenge.
She unfolds her legs. “Fuck you, Jac.”
Despite her words, she moves from her seat opposite me to my lap. She climbs on, thighs on each side of me, and she starts to rub her covered cunt on my already hardened cock.
“God, you feel so fucking good,” she whispers. Then she kisses me.
It’s a hard kiss, deep. Full of tongue and the scrape of teeth. It’s hot and perfect, and I tangle a hand in her hair as I continue to kiss her, tasting the darkness of her, the glimmer of light and that dark, sweet tang of passion.
MG rubs her cunt on my cock harder now, working her clit on me, and fuck, she’s aiming for the piercing, angling herself to ride that with her clit, to really nail that itch she’s got. To sing.
“Fuck, MG.” I say.
“Don’t fucking say a thing,” she pants. “You’ll ruin it.”
That makes me grin. She’s a pain in my ass, but I love it.
She starts moaning as the kisses get hotter, deeper, darker, wilder, as she sucks my tongue, my lip, and I return the favor. She’s moving faster now, harder, and she’s moaning like a hot banshee, and then she starts to shake. Pushing in against me, shuddering as she comes.
When she’s done, she strips naked and drops to her knees before me. I haven’t had to say a word, haven’t had to command or dominate her. On her own, she pulls out my cock and sucks the head into her mouth, in the back of the damn limo.
Like she’s one of the girls I never remember. The ones I fuck and forget. But she’s making it seem sex back here is new. Something we’re inventing on the spot.
It’s sordid, delightful, and the wet heat of her mouth is beyond spectacular. It’s always magic, being in a woman’s mouth, but she makes it something else entirely.
Almost fucking religious. She’s just sucking and licking the head, over the piercing. She starts to bob, taking more of me in each downward dip.
I can definitely come.
All those problems? The boredom? The soft dick when looking at a personal live sex show? The not even bothering finding a woman since all that? Gone.
I’m so hard, I ache. Each time I see this woman, it’s the fucking same. She’s a boner machine. She’s…I don’t have the words for it, but she’s like something that gets better. Each taste makes me more addicted.
And I’m not about to waste that fine pussy. I pull her up, turning her, and pull her thighs wide. Then I push her so she has to put her hands on the seat in front of her when I plunge into her from behind. It’s the kind of view a man could never get bored of.
I fuck up into her, hard.
She’s so tight as usual, and I’ll take the sex. I’ll take her.
I slip a hand around her waist, low, and pull her up so her back’s on my front and I widen my legs to stretch her wide, to control her moves. Fuck, she’s bliss. I move a hand up to pinch her nipples, the other sliding down between those stretched out thighs to stroke over her clit.
I whisper, “MG? Kiss me.”
She turns her head, and her mouth meets mine. It’s a desperate, hungry thing, hot because of what we’re doing, and as our tongues meet, my balls contract and white-hot pleasure shoots through me. I come right as she clamps down hard on me, reaching bliss again, too.
When we’re done, I pick her up and turn her, tucking her between my thighs, making her hold hers together, to keep my cum in her. Why? Because there’s something so fucking wrong, so fucking dirty, so fucking hot about it. And I’m a sick fuck.
There’s ownership to it, a way to say she’s mine. All mine and not that dickhole, Hendrick’s. I’d like to pretend that’s true for a little while longer.
In this position, we’re face to face, and once more, I kiss her.
This time it’s slow, dreamy, drugging, and she groans softly into me, kissing me back. I could do this forever, kiss her like this.
But it ends because she pulls away and dresses as I tuck myself away and readjust my clothes.
“Some talk,” I say.
