Three weeks

He is so sexy. He was talking near-constantly. "You like it when I do things to your face? To your head? Yeah? Me too. It feels intimate, doesn't it?" His hand was pressing against my face, he pulled my hair, he pressed my head hard against his chest. I cried out each time, unable to contain the extreme emotions he was causing in me - and oh, God, the arousal. The desire. I was right there with him and he was keeping it that way with his constant stream of words.

"I like taking you for my own." His hand slipped between my legs, where I was a slippery mess. His thumb across my clit made me gasp. I felt his cock press against my thigh and I groaned and pressed my body toward it.

"You want something, girl?"

"Cock... cock," I pleaded, my hips moving with his fingers. He was pressing my g-spot and I screamed.

"I'm going to try something new. You don't get any cock - until you come for me." His fingers continued their dance and I whimpered, so sensitive, wanting him to fill me up.

"Oh, God. Please. Please." I writhed under him - he climbed atop me and rubbed his cock against my splayed-open sex.

"Not until you come for me. I suppose I could be extra mean and take my hand away. That would make it pretty hard for you to come, wouldn't it?"

"Yes sir..." I was terrified he would do that.

"Good thing for you I like making you come." His cock rubbed against me, his fingertips delicately stroked my clit.

"Oh, please." I arched up, moaning, trying to tempt his cock into me. It clearly wanted to be there.

"Gonna come for me?"

"No,  please... please."

"No? You don't seem to understand how this works. You come for me when I tell you to. You're mine."

"Oh, God... please." I was melting beneath him, turning into nothing but a puddle of need. His fingers know exactly where to touch me and they were making sublime use of that knowledge. Participating in the conversation became more and more difficult as the pleasure built inside my head.

"You don't need that cock."

"I do!"

"You don't need it. You don't need it at all." His fingers worked their magic through all his words, and as I was protesting that I did need his cock, I felt the spasms start. A deep moan started in the back of my throat and soon I was screaming.

"Good girl. Good fuck toy," he praised me. He kept his fingers moving - forcing another orgasm out of me.

My voice was strained when I could resume normal speech again, but still I begged. "Oh, please fuck me now.."

He complied, moving his hand out of the way and sinking deeply into my body, making me groan as his girth stretched me. "What do you even want with that cock?" he asked roughly.

"Feels so good," I whispered, rolling my hips up into him.

"You can't even come with that cock there. What kind of slut gives up orgasms for cock?" He pressed me down, pinning me to the mattress with his cock. I groaned. I love that.

"I... I can come with the cock there." It's true - it's happened. Not terribly often.

"Sure you can. Uh-huh."

I was beyond response, lost in sensation, not caring about his disbelief. I wasn't going to come with his cock in me like that, but who cares when it feels so fucking fabulous?

Glorious fucking. How do people not like sex? Seriously. Though definitely the right partner makes a huge difference.

He was asking me something. The fog of pleasure, the words he'd been pouring into me, were changing. This was a question.

"Maybe I should fuck your ass. Would you like that?" He ground his hips against me, his hot length pulsing inside me, generating an answering pulse, a clench, from my inner walls.

"Oh yes," I answered, the words perhaps a bit slurred, drunk on sensation as I was. I would like that very fucking much, in fact. But my hands were clutching his hips, pulling him into me over and over, not particularly willing to give up this present pleasure for a future one - even if the future was immediate.

Since he's the one in charge, though, he pulled away from me, leaving me empty as he rolled to lie next to me. I whimpered with the loss even as I turned my back to him.

"Poor girl just wants to be full of cock, doesn't she?" he whispered as he squeezed lube onto his fingers. I whimpered as he applied it to my ass, squealing a little when his finger penetrated me there. "Good girl," he whispered, and then it was his cock pressing against me - hard and impossibly big. He applied slow, steady pressure. "Take it, girl," he coaxed as I groaned.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God," I whimpered as he slowly speared me. And then - oh, God - then the head of his cock entered my clenching ass in such a way that it felt so fucking incredible and all I could do was groan with a deep, unbelievable pleasure. He wasn't even all the way in me and I felt like I could come again any moment.

"Good fuck hole," he said, pulling back just slightly and pressing all the way in, making my cries spiral up into the darkness. "Take it, bitch." He grabbed my hip and pulled me back onto him, his other hand tangling in my hair, the elbow of that arm in the center of my back - both pulling me toward him by the hair and pressing me forward, keeping me from relieving the pressure on my scalp. I love that so much. The noises coming from me were animalistic - grunts, groans, uncontrollable noises of pleasure and overwhelmed sensations. That noise - the vibrating one that sounds like several voices coming from my throat at once - that one - started coming out of me as he fucked my ass, and he talked.

He talked and fucked, pulled and pushed, and I screamed, writhed, and existed as a mass of nerve endings for him to excite.

He excites me so fucking well.

When he came, I felt each spurt expanding his cock, making it feel even bigger inside me, impossible to accommodate, but I did. Of course I did. That's what I'm for - accommodating him.

I am mainly in the lifestyle to get my brains fucked out.

So far, it's working very very well.

Imagine this - multiply it by three weeks - pile a bunch of physical labor into the mix - and you get why I haven't been around much. Having the screaming sex trumps writing about it every single time.

I do like the writing though.