The sexual rapport between Gregory and me is incredible. I’m not shy about expressing my desires to him and he’s not shy about fulfilling them.

I enjoy sex immensely, and have always been a vocal and enthusiastic sex partner. In polite company, I would never so much as say “ass.” In the bedroom it’s an entirely different story.

We love to talk dirty. We use filthy, dirty, obscene words to describe one another and to describe our actions.

They’re not cuss words exactly, but the things we say behind closed doors, in the heat of the moment, to tease our lovers, to tell them the deliciously naughty things we will do to turn them on.

They are the pretty little love words, the promises in the dark and the sweet nothings we whisper in our lover's ear, our warm breath on their skin; words that fan the smoldering embers of desire inside us and ignite the fire down below.

I submit that the aural sensations of whispered love words rival even touch as the most provocative contact lovers can have.

Gregory’s words are wildly arousing when he tells me how much he loves me, how sexy I am, how good my mouth feels, or how tightly I squeeze his shaft. I’m excited to receive his compliments; they motivate me to be better for him.

I feel at home between Gregory’s legs, worshiping him with my mouth as a husband should be worshiped by his wife.

Groaning, he pushes his thick shaft into my eager, willing mouth. Fellatio is his favorite thing, and I have learned to love it dearly for him and easily neck his hefty meat.

I moan around his long, thick shaft as it reaches the depths of my throat. I never feel more submissive than I do when my throat is filled with his throbbing manhood, my ears filled with his moans.

Gregory calls me his gifted little cocksucker and holds my hair while I deepthroat him and proudly swallow his essence with pleasure.

He pulls me up from the floor and tells me he loves me. His kiss is my reward, the cum kiss proving his words were proper.

Gregory calls me a cum slut, fuck toy, cum dumpster, his dirty little whore. I want to be all of those for him.  

His words excite me despite the degradation, or maybe because of it.

I beg him, “Please take me, sir, please.”

He pushes me back onto the bed with his hand on my chest and crawls on top of me.

He’s going to fuck me deep, he says, because that’s the way whores like me like it. I spread my legs wide for him, like a Thanksgiving Day turkey ready for stuffing, eager to accept all he has to give and prove that I’m his whore.

Greg pins my shoulders to the bed and takes what he wants, and what he wants is me.

He forces himself inside me with one solid thrust, stretching me wide with his long thick tool and pressing his heavy balls firmly against my ass.

He dicks me with long, slow, deep strokes. The slow-motion action drives me insane. I can only whimper and moan while he has his way with me.

I beg him to fuck me the way I need it, “Please Greg, faster, harder!” I shout at him. He puts my legs over his shoulders and increases the tempo, steadily taking me to the edge.

“Take it all slut!” he says. He sucks my nipples while the sound and feeling of his balls slapping my bottom pushes me closer to the edge,

“Gregory! Fuck me! Make me your whore!” I shout, and he slams his pelvis against me, holding himself inside and groaning.

Greg says, “Here you go slut, filled with cock just like a true slut. Take it you little whore, fuck it!”

My pelvis jumps up to meet his thrusts. “Do it, Gregory! Fuck me! Fuck my drooling snatch! Fuck my whore cunt!”

My nails dig into his back, and I bite his shoulder as my orgasm erupts.

Gregory groans loudly and delivers a massive load, painting my insides with his thick, creamy love sauce.

I cry out and we cum together as I squirt, coating his crotch with a blast of hot girl juice.

After a moment, when we come down, we say the most important words, the reason for all the rest of them.

“I love you, Catherine.”

“I love you, Gregory.”