“I’m your whore, your fucking whore!” I moaned, half-screaming, as I thrust my hips into him violently, fully impaling myself on his thick, hard cock.
On my hands and knees, my shapely, round ass sticking up into the air, we’d tumbled over the back of the couch when it tipped over and rolled over the floor, overturning the hardwood coffee table, various bits of home decor scattering across the stone tiles. He was also on his knees, leaning over my back, his body pressed against the bookshelf, as I slammed my volcanic sex against hardness. One of his hands had a death grip on my curvy hips, pulling me into him so forcefully that small knickknacks were plummeting from the shelves, shattering and skidding on the floor.
His other hand grabbed my long, red hair, done up in slutty, lazy curls, and pulled my head up and back sharply. Strong, manly fingers thrust into my moaning mouth, fucking it, then grabbed my throat, lightly choking me.
“Fuck your slut. Punish me for being such a trashy whore. Make me fucking cum. I’ll do anything for you. Name it; I’ll do it. I’ll do anything you want.”
The hand around my throat, cutting off my oxygen and making me dizzy and heady in the sexiest way possible, pulled my panting, impassioned face downward. Pressing my cheek to the cold, stone tile, his huge cock filled my cunt, the thrusts making my soul orgasm.
“Liar!” A firm palm slapped my round, sexy butt.
“Ow! Fuck, that hurt! HARDER! Spank your slut harder. Fuck me. Punish your whore.”
“You lying cunt.”
His hand brutalized my posterior, all while he hammered into my wetness. I couldn’t take it any longer, and my hand snaked between my legs, assaulting my clit, furiously. The triple sensations of masturbating while being spanked and fucked by a cock that can only be described as horny magic caused a volcanic eruption, more powerful than Mount Vesuvius.
“Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck! Oh, fuck; I’m cumming. Oh, please fuck me. Harder; harder; harder!”
I lost control of my body, mouth, and mind. I saw only blackness, felt only soul-reaping pleasure, and my limbs convulsed and flailed. Mid-orgasm, his hands left my throat, and he stopped spanking me. Grabbing me around the chest, my stalwart lover stood, my bliss-consumed body still impaled on his manhood and still cumming with fury. As I moaned, my clenching cunt milking his hard shaft, I was lifted into the air as if weightless, and, with his cock still thrusting into me, making me cum even more, he deposited me on the dining room table.
My drooling lips were forced against the wood, my moaning curses increasing in dirtiness and volume as his hands raked down my back.
“Fucking… lying… slut,” he spanked me brutally between every syllable. "Tell. The. Fucking. Truth."
Both of my hands shot between my spread thighs. I crammed two fingers inside my pussy; it was so wet that my legs were soaked from crotch to knee. My other hand flew to my swollen, throbbing, sensitive clit, and I fingered myself, tugging my sensitive nub so hard that it hurt, while he punished me for being a lying, dirty whore.
“I… oh, fuck… do it on purpose,” I was close to cumming again. My ass was on glorious fire, my nectar was pouring out of me like a waterfall, and my body was rocking back and forth so hard, my body thrusting back to meet his spanks, that the table was rocking up and down. “I do it because I’m a fucking horny slut. You married a whore. I’m your whore! Please, please, please, fuck your slutty, dirty whore.”
“What else?”
“My slutty cunt is fucking cumming. Oh, fuck! Oooh, aaahhh, fucking whore; I’m a whore. I love that you get off on what a trashy whore I am. It makes it hotter.”
His hard cock pressed against my asshole. It didn’t penetrate; he just pushed it into my forbidden hole, barely enough for my nerves to erupt with carnal pleasure. When his gruff fingers plunged into my sex hole, adding themselves to my thrusting ones, I came again.
“Fuck, yes! Be rough. Tell me what a whore I am.”
His arms violently pulled my digits from my quivering sex, and I felt his hardness plunge into my cock, burying the length all the way to his balls. I screamed in agonized rapture, shifting position to meet his hammering. Just then, the dining room table tilted, my body’s weight tipping it.
With lightning reflexes, he grabbed at my flailing body and pulled me safely away. The table tipped, place mats, centerpieces, and our drinks catapulted every which way. I heard glass shattering, but I couldn’t care less.
Grabbing his shoulders, I spun myself around, turning so I was facing upward, facing him. The gestures caused him to go off-balance, and he stumbled backward, my thighs wrapping around him, pulling that mammoth cock deeply inside of me. When he hit the wall, a canvas wall picture coming off its mounting and falling to the floor, I stopped our movement with my foot, then dropped both legs, standing with his cock still inside me. I forced him, pushing and hitting, to the floor. He lay supine, and I was riding him, my clit grinding against his abdomen, my cursing, dirty-talking mouth just inches from his.
“Tell me you love watching me being a whore, you fucking bastard. You love it… love… it.”
My body was humping him hard, our flesh slapping loudly, my liquid sex spurting with every collision. I grabbed the bookshelf on the opposite side of the dining room doorway for leverage, but he thrust into me so hard that I careened forward. As I fell, my grasp became desperate, but my hand couldn’t find purchase, and the bookshelf tumbled forward, thudding to the floor with an echoing crash.
“You’re a dirty, sleazy, fucking slut. I love you for it,” he said, turning me back onto all fours and fucking me so hard that tears of lusty joy sprang from my moss-colored eyes. “Now, finger yourself like a good little whore and cum on my cock.”
