So yeah, we’ve been going at it regularly now days and nights, and it’s elevated our game, made us into the most disgusting pair living in New York, our sex fluid everywhere, going at each other non-stop. And I love it, I absolutely love being his fuck doll, taking him as he took me, finding ecstasy in each other’s arms.
Take last week for example. After a particularly hot session, he’d collapsed on me, his big body practically burying me in the bed.
“Ooph!” I’d cried, my voice muffled in the sheets. “You’re heavy.”
“Sorry baby,” he’d rasped, not shifting an inch. “You’ve literally worn me out, drained me of every drop, I can’t move, you’re just going to have to live with it.”
And I’d giggled from under him, slapping his bicep with a small hand. Truth was, I didn’t want him to move just yet, didn’t want him to pull out, his hot dick felt so good inside.
“Mmm,” I moaned into the sheets, gyrating my hips slightly. “That’s true, you feel hard still, big boy.”
And the big man had just laughed into my shoulder, his massive body shaking with tremors on top of mine.
“You’re such a slut, you know that? With such a slutty cunt.”
Mmm, I loved when he talked nasty to me, it made me burn, my insides churning with lust. So I just smiled back and purred, “But it’s your slutty cunt, this slutty cunt’s all yours.”
And his eyes immediately flared again, hot streaks appearing across his cheeks although it was close to morning and we’d been going at it tirelessly, stopping only to catch our breaths before tearing up the sheets once more.
“That’s true, isn’t it?” he murmured into my neck, his hand wandering down to stroke my snatch, the fat lips still surrounding his cock, gripping it like it was the best candy. “This is my beautiful pussy, I own it.”
And I just moaned against him, stretching, before placing a deep kiss onto his mouth, a soulful exchange that had both of us panting and gasping for more. I felt like my heart was about to explode from my chest, showing him with my kisses, my actions, that he meant so much to me, that I loved being with him.
So it was with excitement that I padded down the hall to Mr. Martin’s apartment later that day. I knew beyond a doubt that we’d be locked in each other’s arms in a nano-second, my clothes off and his dick in, making me shudder and scream with pleasure.
Except something was off, my senses on high alert as I drew closer. I’d gotten back a little early today and had decided to come by his apartment early as well, before our usual time of 10 or so. Surely, an hour or two extra of hot sex was right up his alley?
I stopped before the door, my hand up to knock but something made me pause, my spidey sense tingling. What was it exactly? The scent of some heady fruit, like citrus, or pineapple, or coconut, I wasn’t sure what. But Nick definitely didn’t use cologne or aftershave that smelled like that, his stuff was woodsy, all man.
And sure enough, a woman’s voice rang out from inside.
“Mr. Martin,” it purred, “I had no idea you were so bad.”
And what followed was a muffled shriek, a small bang against the wall and then Nick’s unmistakable low growl.
“You’re a fucking slut,” he rumbled through the door. “A fucking slut.”
And the woman let out a low whine then, her pleasure maximized as she panted heavily.
“I’m a slut but you love it,” she breathed in return. “You fucking love it.”
And I stood completely still in disbelief, my hand still raised to knock, dressed in nothing but the flimsiest of outfits outside the door. Was this really happening? My pulse fluttered wildly, beating at a million miles a minute as my stomach dropped like a lead weight, a sudden wave of nausea overcoming me.
Because was it possible? Was it possible that Nick was sleeping with multiple women, that I wasn’t his one and only? Was it possible that I was nothing to him, merely a typist for hire, a faceless girl among the millions that he regularly banged?
And my face flamed, my mouth snapping shut with a click. Of course. I was no one, had never been anyone. An eligible bachelor for decades, Nick probably had a black book as thick as an encyclopedia and I’d been the flavor du jour, nothing more. And when he got bored all it took was a phone call, a few words, and another woman was at the ready.
My face flamed, shame and humiliation coursing through my body. My hand dropped limply to my side and I backed away from the door like it was a nuclear waste site, filled with toxic materials and leaking fumes. My chin trembled and to my utter shock, hot tears began coursing down my cheeks, my nose starting to run as my mouth blubbered silently.