I used to brag about being smutfree. No porn, no filthy books, no late-night fantasies that left me aching and wet. Clean. Controlled. That lasted until the night I met you in the bar, your eyes already undressing me while you bought the drinks. We barely made it to your apartment before your hand was up my skirt, fingers sliding straight into my soaked cunt like you knew Id been lying to myself all along.
Fuck, youre dripping, you growled against my ear, two thick fingers pumping hard. I didnt answer with words.
I just spread my legs wider on your couch and let you finger-fuck me until I came with a raw, broken moan, thighs shaking, juices running down your wrist. That was the end of smutfree.
You didnt give me time to catch my breath. You yanked my panties off, shoved my knees to my chest, and buried your face between my legs. Your tongue was relentless, licking my clit in fast, dirty circles while you sucked on it like you wanted to taste every drop I had. I grabbed your hair and ground against your mouth, cursing, telling you to eat that pussy like you owned it. You did. You tongue-fucked me deep, then switched back to sucking until I came again, louder, my voice hoarse.
When you finally stood up and freed your cock, it was thick, veined, already leaking. I reached for it without thinking, stroking the hot length, smearing the precum with my thumb. Put it in me, I demanded. You didnt tease. You lined up and drove straight into my cunt in one hard thrust. The stretch burned so good I saw stars. You fucked me like you hated me and loved me at the same time, hips snapping, balls slapping against my ass, the wet sound of your cock pounding my soaked pussy filling the room.
I clawed your back and begged for more. Harder. Deeper. You gave it, flipping me onto my stomach, yanking my hips up, and slamming back inside. One hand fisted my hair, the other reached under to rub my swollen clit in rough circles. I came again around your cock, walls clenching tight, and you groaned like it was the best feeling in the world. You didnt stop. You kept pounding through my orgasm, using my body, telling me how tight and wet I was, how you were going to fill me up.
When you pulled out I thought you were done, but you flipped me again and straddled my chest. Open, you ordered. I did. You fed me your cock, still slick from my cunt, and I sucked greedily, tasting myself on you. You fucked my mouth in short thrusts until you pulled back and painted my tits with thick ropes of cum. It dripped down my skin, hot and filthy, and I rubbed it in like lotion while you watched, breathing hard.
We werent finished. You dragged me to the bedroom, bent me over the edge of the mattress, and took me from behind again, slower this time but just as deep. Your hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise. Every thrust pushed a filthy moan out of me. I reached between my legs and played with my own clit, coming one more time while you stayed buried inside me, grinding against my ass.
After you came again, deep in my pussy this time, we collapsed in a sweaty tangle. You stayed inside me, softening, cum leaking out around your cock. I felt ruined. Marked. And completely, deliciously not smutfree anymore.
We went again in the shower, water sluicing over us while you lifted me against the tiles and fucked me standing up. My legs locked around your waist, your mouth on my nipples, sucking hard. Then once more on the floor when we couldnt even make it back to the bed, you on your back while I rode you, grinding my clit against you until we both shattered.
By morning I knew the truth. Id never be smutfree again. Not when your cock was that perfect, not when your mouth knew exactly how to make me scream. I left your place with your cum still inside me, my body sore and satisfied, already planning when Id come back for more. The old rules were gone. All that was left was this raw, hungry need and the promise of the next time youd wreck me all over again.
