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I want to lose myself in her.
Why not? I’ve already apparently gone and lost my fucking mind.
“No,” she says again, “what I am is an artist.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
She’s sliding her hand over my boxer briefs, jacking me off through the fabric. And she’s going at it with long, squeezing strokes, the kind that paint me in fire. “I don’t like him.”
“You want to fucking talk about Jac fucking Miller right now?” I ask.
“You started it.”
Fair enough, I did. “Then fucking stop.”
“I don’t really think I like you that much, either. More than him, but…”
“I still want to fuck you. And you want to fuck me. Don’t you?” I tighten my hand on the back of her neck, the beat of her pulse hard on the edge of my fingers. She’s utterly turned on.
“Oh, god, yes.” Her hand works me, and she dips in, pulling me out. I shudder. My balls are so tight, I’m tingling. She runs her fingers over the tip, through the beads of precum. “Fuck, you’re huge.”
“And you’re tight.”
“Like we’re made for this.”
I laugh. “Talking?”
“Fucking.”
Her word punches the air from my lungs, and I pull her hand free and bring it to my mouth, biting it. Then I pick her up and lift her. A tidal wave rocks me, and she takes a sharp and ragged breath, one that runs right through me, stroking up my libido.
Her hands come around my neck, and I push her thighs apart and up. She hooks her legs on my shoulders, spreading herself wide, and when I look down, I’m rewarded with a sight that burns deep into me.
She’s imprisoned, her cunt split, red, wet, and it’s for the taking. It’s crude and celestial, and I grab my cock and thrust into her, deep.
We both groan. It’s so fucking tight. So goddamn tight and wet and hot, and my knees buckle a little from the sheer pleasure coursing through me.
She weighs next to nothing in my arms, which makes it easy to start slamming into her. She shrieks, but she pulls at me, makes me come at her harder, faster, and I’ve never felt this in my life. It’s sublime. It’s filthy. It’s all the fires at once.
I pull almost out and thrust into her, sinking into the heat and tightness. And then I do it all over again. Each plunge comes faster and faster and her hips move the little they can, up to me, to get more and we’re soon hammering into the wall. With nothing underneath her, I’m able to go balls deep and hitting her cunt hard with my cock.
Our mouths try to devour each other, and it’s pagan and wild. I can’t get enough.
“More.” She kisses me again, biting my lip. “Harder. Faster. More. Fuck me harder.”
“Dirty whore.” The words come from me on their own. It’s like I want to fuck her every way I can, even with words. The dirtier the better. I want to call her my slut, my cunt, my bitch, but I chant them in my head. For now. “Dirty, filthy little whore.”
I just keep fucking her hard, balls deep, and with each hard thrust, I come out of her a little only to slam back into her.
“Yes!” She drops a hand to my ass and pushes at me. “Whore fucker. Slut fucker. Teach me what I am.”
“My whore!” Oh, Jesus, her fuckingwords.
She moans as I hammer her harder, faster. “Oh, God! Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me!”
Magdalena’s so tight, she squeezes my cock with every thrust, every withdrawal, and I’m finding it impossible to hold on. Everything is alight, burning bright.
