Fucking with a vengeance

My life is brilliant. Every night I fall asleep in the arms of my delicious, fantastic, sexy husband who, even half asleep, keeps mumbling about how happy he is with me and how much he loves me.

Every night.

My life is a fairy tale dream from which I have no desire to be awakened.

It must be real, though, because the pain of his fingers clamping down on my nipple still makes me scream. My screams still seem to cause him to erupt. Those pinches do not change my reality except to sharpen it.

He revels in the power I have gifted him over my entire being.

"Your body is mine," he murmurs against my temple.

"Yes sir," I whisper in response.

"Your soul is mine," he says roughly, directly into my ear, and I shudder. His hand is causing pain somewhere. Slapping my breasts, making me arch into him, or perhaps smacking into my spread open vulva.


"Yes sir," I whimper through the pain. The delicious, amazing pain that blooms in my brain like a spreading cloud of cream in the blackness of coffee.

"All of you," he whispers, almost an afterthought, almost incredulous.

He hits me this night in places he hasn't caused pain in weeks, and I am sensitive. The pain becomes harsh sooner than it did before, and he mocks me. "Poor sick girl, is this all too much for you?" he doesn't stop slapping my breasts though.

I shake my head. I welcome his attention whenever he wants to grant it. I am so quickly aroused by his actions that my head spins from desire. I raise my chest up to feel his blows better. He groans his approval. I can feel his hardness pressing into my leg. My fingers wrap around his cock even as he keeps hitting me.

"You like feeling how much you turn me on?" he asks, his blows relenting as his fingers delve between my folds, find my core wet and swollen and very very ready for him. He groans to feel the evidence of my arousal, which is completely concordant this night. I start to answer him but his finger drags my wetness across my clitoris and I only gasp loudly in response, my breath taken away by the slightest touch there. He grins, loving that he has the power to take my voice, and strokes me gently until my hips rock.

His finger wanders lower, stroking my back entrance, a very sensitive area that he has largely been ignoring for a long, long time, and my eyes widen and I spread my legs wider, arching up, seeking to encourage him. Oh how I do love it when he invades me there. His finger strokes the sensitive tissues a moment longer before he returns to my clit, and before long he has me squirming, my own hand almost thoughtlessly stroking his erection while I rock to his touch.

"I want to fuck my girl now," he growls. Oh. Well it is my job to give the man what he wants. I turn onto my side, bend forward. My leg is already tossed backward over his hip so it doesn't take much motion to angle us properly for him to penetrate me. He presses his cock just against my opening, presses forward a little until he is just inside me. He waits and I whimper.

I don't know why, but the last few months his cock has felt freaking enormous. In  my hand or any opening in which he chooses to place it, it makes my eyes widen with surprise every single time. Now is no exception. I whimper and he says "Oh is it too big for you?"

I nod. It certainly feels that way, even if we both know differently.

"You want the cock, sweet girl?" he asks me.

"Yes sir," I say, rocking my hips a little. I pulse my internal muscles around him. He growls.

"Come and fuck it then," he says, his voice gravelly with self-restraint.

Well that's an interesting order. It's certainly harder for me to fuck him in this position that it is for him to fuck me. Something about being made to put forth effort does funny things in my head though, and he knows that. I'm a little worried he's going to do the thing he does sometimes where he tells me to take the cock but keeps me from doing so, and taunts me the entire time. Well. Worried may be the wrong word, because that too is incredibly hot.

But as I slowly force myself backward onto him, he doesn't stop me. He talks. "Oh, good girl," he says, and "Good pussy. Come on, girl, fuck the cock. Good hole. Good fuck hole. Oh yes, girl, this is where you go, impaling yourself on my cock."

I can barely hold it together, just listening to him saying these things, but eventually I have backed all the way onto him, his enormous girth stretching me and filling me to what feels like the bursting point. I pulse around him, circling my hips as I groan. The angle we're at has the base of his cock rubbing just so against my rear entrance too, and all my nerve endings down below feel aflame. His finger is still dancing lightly on my clit as I move and my brain feels like a lit-up switchboard, all the signals coming in from everywhere all at once.

He lets me move on him for a while, lets me fuck him at my own pace as he keeps saying deliciously filthy things to me, but eventually he starts moving himself. His cock is a beast plundering me. It's as though every beat of his heart makes the thing grow so much bigger inside me, and I don't know if I'm making noise any more or if I'm too breathless to do so.

"Would you like me to fuck your ass?" he asks, his cock pushing deeply into my pussy and just pulsing there while he waits for my answer.

"Oh God yes," I murmur, because truly even though this entire experience is blowing my mind, I've fantasized endlessly about him in my ass for months now, and since his finger brushed across that opening earlier it's been an entire side-fantasy running along our actual experience.

"Do you think you can take that?" he asks, pressing harder into me as if to emphasize the impossible enormity of his cock.

"No," I answer, gasping, shaking my head as  my internal muscles flutter around his invading member in response.

"Mmm," he purrs, "you don't think you can take it but you want it anyway?"

"Yes sir," I gasp. Oh yes, yes, yes, I want it anyway. YES. PLEASE. I am practically foaming at the mouth from wanting it. It's precisely because I don't think I can take it that I want it so much.

"Okay then," he says, and continues moving inside me as he reaches behind him for the lube. It's a miracle of acrobatic proportions that he manages to both rummage around in a drawer behind us and still fuck me, but he does it.

He withdraws from me, and this is the moment that I always tense up, whether I like it or not. He lubes himself, and then his fingers are gentle on my ass, sliding around, penetrating slowly, making me gasp. I'd like to say that he always does this perfectly, but usually he stops too soon, before I am truly relaxed enough to take him without a massive effort on both our parts. Probably why he waits so long in between. Too much effort, not enough reward.

This time he slides two fingers gently into me before positioning his cock at the opening. Almost enough preparation, but he is SO MUCH BIGGER than two of his fingers that the entire thing is preposterous. It feels like he is trying to shove his fist into me whole, except without the ability to give gentle wiggles like a fist properly does. I wriggle myself, and thankfully he lets me. Slowly, my muscles allow him inside.

My universe condenses to my asshole stretched around his cock. That's all I am. I am a stretched pair of sphincter muscles, nothing more. I hear pleasured screaming. It's me.

Suddenly, the size of my universe nearly doubles as his finger once again finds my wet, swollen clitoris and he slowly, lightly strokes it while also slowly, slowly moving inside me. I must be screaming. My brain is overloaded with sensation. I am nothing but sensation. He's talking. I am all ears, clitoris, and asshole. "Oh my god," I hear myself say. "So full," I whine, both delighted and concerned.

He doesn't know it, but he's the god I speak of. His fingers dip into my pussy and I cry out. "No room," I shrill as he stretches me beyond my capacity.

"Plenty of room, don't lie," he growls as he occupies my body in ways that shouldn't be possible. He keeps talking, keeps fucking, keeps moving his finger against my clit. I'm screaming, floating, thinking I'm an asshole, that's all I am, just an asshole, which is meshing far too well with the things he is saying about fucking me, about me belonging to him.

I am breathless, gasping, and his finger is making me crazy, but I'm not going to come. Orgasm is nowhere near me.

But then he is talking, and at the end of his sentence he says "Come for me, sweet little bitch, come for me," and I am coming. I am coming harder than I can remember coming ever before, my entire universe quadruples in sensation and I scream, scream as I arch away from him but he is holding me against him, his finger and his cock keep moving and the sensation is absolutely unbearable but I must bear it because he wants me to and I am his and oh my god I am coming, coming, coming. My brain is completely on fire and it takes a long, long, long time for me to come down from it. I do not  know if there was one orgasm or multiple ones. I am trembling and he is still slowly fucking me, slowly stroking my too-sensitive clit, and I am out of breath but he is not finished with me yet.

"My sweet fuck toy," he growls, holding onto me as he continues to move. My recall is fuzzy because my brain is completely destroyed from the intensity of the orgasm, but I know that he comes. I know that I am sweaty and exhausted and so completely delighted that I want to sing his praises, to bring him fruit and feed it to him, to stand at his side and waves fans to provide him with a cool breeze. I curl into his arms afterward and he seems as delighted as I feel.

"So lucky to have you," he murmurs as he starts to fall asleep, his cock still inside me. "You think you can sleep like this?"

"Oh my," I murmur. I'd be happy to try, but it is incredibly intense. Even when he decides to remove himself, it's intense. I scream with overloaded nerve endings and pleasure that might just be so intense that it's pain when he finally pulls away.

In the end we fall asleep with our legs tangled together and his arms wrapped around me. I glow.

"I think that's my favorite thing ever," I whisper to him as we snuggle.

"I should give you your favorite thing ever more often," he says sleepily. "That's what a loving person would do."

"Mmmmmmm," I purr loudly. "We're not exactly here for my favorite things ever."

He squeezes me. I don't know what he's thinking.

But I know what I'm thinking.

I'm thinking I am the luckiest human being on this entire planet.

Even when I'm just an asshole.