[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/ud7qah/m_new_favorite_bartender_part_1/)–At some point, we had stopped spooning. I was pretty much holding her prone on the bed, one of my hands pinned underneath the weight of our bodies, trying desperately to find her clit once more. I must have looked like a blind man reading brail. Frankly, if someone were to see us, they’d be calling the cops. It was a sketchy looking scene.
If you entered the bedroom, we would be at your 10 o’clock, flailing atop a thick duvet over a sleek wooden bedframe. You would see my shorts pulled half-way down my ass, white as can be, my cock somewhere buried in the pile. Her shirt would be lifted to ascend just below her handful of breasts, her grey sweatpants around her knees, and my hand drowning in a puddle of sweat and girl cum leaking down her slit.
My free left hand had a fistful of thick blonde hair. I took a firm grasp and pushed myself upwards as her head cocked to the side. Her now flushed cheeks smushed under the force.
“Fuckin hard.” She yelped.
Ok. I’d let my hands do the talking then. I yanked my right hand free, a strand of pussy goo launched skyward and landed somewhere near my pillow. A tasty treat for later, I guess. The tips of my fingers were sopping.
I shifted on top of her, rotated, really. We ended up still face down, but looking more like a lustful crucifix, the weight of my frame easily defeating any effort she could have mustered. To be clear, she wasn’t struggling there.
She yelped and said, “Oh fuck, yeah” like a goddamn pornstar. I knew this bartender was going to be special.So, I grabbed a hold at both ends. One hand pulling her hair, another diving under the cotton thong, gracing her little asshole, and plunging deep into her glistening pussy.She jolted forward, as if she wasn’t expecting the penetration. My pace was vicious. I was not being gentle.
“Hey I squirt is that a problem?”Jesus fucking christ. I’m definitely not fucking my wife right now. That’s for sure.
Two things about squirting. One, well, its fucking awesome. Makes my dick hickory. Two, its messy.
And we are on my bed. Where my wife and I sleep. Also, I never do laundry, so a fresh pair of sheets on the bed would be immediately suspicious that something went on. She probably wouldn’t guess I brought home a bartender fuck-doll. But I really can’t afford any level of suspicion. I’m objectively not a pro at this. I have no tradecraft to employ.
I really should end this. It had gone on long enough. It was definitely fun enough.
On the other hand, I really wanted to make this girl squirt. I wanted to be goddamn showered by it.
“Goddamn you’re a fucking whore. Squirt everywhere. Fucking everywhere” I commanded as I yanked the reigns one last time and then let go of my grasp. I kept her prone but I was making my way south.
I stood up at-once, ripped down her sweatpants so they tied up her ankles like prison shackles. I peeled her panties around one of her cheeks, grabbed her hips and pulled towards me, aiming her cream covered pussy and asshole to the ceiling as her head stayed flat on the bed.
What a good fucking girl.
I got carried away by the view. I yanked my own shorts and underwear to my feet, my generously sized cock bounced. Before I could even think, I wound up and smacked her ass cheek. The crack of a whip split the air.
I hit her hard. Really hard. Too hard for someone who didn’t ask for that. It wasn’t playful. It definitely hurt her.
That wasn’t a fake porno scream you hear when someone’s palm barely whispers to a pornstar’s ass. This was a real, delicate whimper. It was under her breath, like it escaped. She tried to hold it back but just couldn’t hide from the pain. I saw her mascara begin to run, tears had formed.
In half-a-second, that vulnerability disappeared. She was pissed and squirmed to all fours looking like a bronco. The first thing I could grab was a lock of hair. So, I reached like a mountain climber finding a hold and yanked. Her head snapped backwards, I could recover some of that energy and push her back down.
She was prone once more. Welts had formed.“Fuck you!” she screamed under a sob. She took a big, deep breath. Then a second one. Her gaze was away from me, staring a hole into a wall. Mascara ran like avalanches of ash cascading down her face. One of her fake eyelashes was hanging by a thread. Honestly, she looked pathetic. Out of breath from the scramble, panties now torn, t-shirt still on but pants wrapped around her ankles. She looked like a victim.
She took a last recovery breath as I held pressure against her, not sure if I had made the biggest mistake of my life.
Her eyes left the wall and fired upon my own. There was an intensity there. Definitely anger. But no remorse, no sorrow.
She was grinning.
“Harder!”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ue8yhl/m_new_favorite_bartender_part_2
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