The Unspoken Rule

“You fuck me like you love me,” she says as my cock moves deep inside her. Slowly. Intentionally. My mouth against hers. Our eyes lock. Her breath becomes my breath and mine hers.

Usually, that’s not a bad thing. Except—it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It was supposed to be good, sure. But not like this.

Not so tender, while still so hard. My hand fits so nicely around her throat. Her mouth so well around my cock. My tongue and her tongue are in sync. My good girl. Daddy’s little slut. She could cum from the sound of my moan in her ear as I released everything fucking her has built up in me: Through the phone. Against the bathroom sink. In my car (hers is always dirty). She would swell the minute she walked through my door. Her first thought as she opened her eyes was us. Mine too. Mouths snapping at one another like wolves. And we were. On the scent for this kind of sex: filthy, kinky, wet and creamy, sensual fucking that never seemed to finish.

I met her in a class she wasn’t supposed to attend. I walked in, looked right, and there she was. Her soft green eyes were shining. Her perfect face looked at me, the supple skin of her cheekbones, the sharp line of her jaw that flowed into an adorable cleft chin. And the way her bottom lip curls under, making a perfect altar for my lips, my fingers, my cock. I was fucked from the moment we said hello. I spent the rest of the class trying not to get hard thinking about her lips. She would absentmindedly bite her fingers, and I envied them for being that close to her tongue.

Then, it was her turn.

She used me for a demonstration. We never broke eye contact. I could see how her cheeks flushed, holding my gaze, being held in mine. When she was done, she had to walk by me, and I so badly wanted to slip my hands down her jeans to feel how wet that made her. She gets so swollen for me. Her clit hood is so thick it squeezes the tip of her out so it’s exposed for gentle flicks of my tongue or fingers that send her into fits. We looked at each other and knew it was only a matter of time.

The first was a slide into DMs. Then text. Flirting. Every conversation started innocently, then words like “aching,” “throbbing,” “wet,” and “hard” led to “touching myself while reading this,” and voice notes filled with breathing, moaning, my name, her name… “fuck, I’m gonna cum so hard.” “Fuck, I’m gonna… I’m cumming.” I cracked her code, and she cracked mine.

There’s a kind of intensity to the way I fuck…

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