“Fuck, you’re making me so wet.”
He grinned. “Am I?”
God he smelled good.
“Yes, look.” I put my finger inside to show him. I liked how it felt, but when I moaned, it was for his pleasure. I wanted him to look at me that certain way, like he’s lost in his own body. I like to be desired, and I like to please. Especially this man.
As I pulled my finger out, I slid it along my lips and up to my clit, careful to collect as much of my dampness as I could. I wanted to show him how much he turned me on. I wanted to watch him as he saw how wet he makes me.
Just a small lamp lit my room, but when I held my finger up, I could see my juice glistening and running down. I showed him and his eyes got that restless look that reminded me of lightning, or an animal taken by surprise. More spilled out of my pussy and I felt it trickling onto my thighs.
I held my hand out like a gift. I wanted him to smell me, and I wanted to touch his lips.
His eyes locked with mine, and he snatched my hand to his mouth, sucking my fingers. I flinched, but it made me want him even more. His tongue felt hot and agile and I wondered if he honestly liked the way I tasted or if his lust kept his senses dulled. He answered my unasked question immediately.
“You taste so fucking good. I could eat you with a spoon.”
It was like this man could hear my thoughts. I knew I was making a terrible choice spending time with him, but I was drawn to him in ways I never knew I could experience. Something about him made me crave sex, and, alone or not, I got distracted whenever I thought about him. Which I did often. He wasn’t a just lustful craving anymore, he’d become a full-fledged fucking need.
He still held my wrist and he smiled as I let him pull my hand toward his cock. He was so bad for me, but I had stopped caring. I loved giving him control and, somehow giving it made me feel more in control.
I stroked him gently, enjoying how soft the skin felt. I reached out and took his hand, pulling it to me.
“Touch me? Please?”
I was trying to be coy and timid and dainty, but inside I was wild and ravenous and feral for him. I thought of him as an animal, but in truth, I was the animal. I wanted him to grab me, to turn me over and take me, to fuck me like I was his property. My pussy ached for him inside me and I wanted, just for a moment, to be his toy. One he could fuck, to use for his ferocious pleasure anyway he desired. I wanted to please him and I wanted him to lose himself in me. I wanted his tongue, his cock, and his cum in me. I wanted his hands pushing my head down a little too hard until I choked, I wanted to lick his ass and feel his tongue in my ass. I wanted his fists knotted in my hair, pulling my head back, and his fingers exploring me, while he shoved his cock in me from behind.
I wanted everything about him and I wanted him to take everything from me, whether I liked it or not. I wanted him to fuck me and make it hurt and I wanted to feel him thrusting and cumming and I wanted to cum with him. I wanted for him to make me cum until I begged him to stopped and secretly hoped he wouldn’t stop no matter how much I begged.
After that, I wanted him to leave. Or stay over for breakfast, I couldn’t decide.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/oqtczn/mf_use_me_and_leave_or_let_me_make_breakfast