Page 88 of Tips and Trysts

And I’m no stranger to anal play. I love it. I know it’s not for everyone, but I’ve always found the intimacy to be incomparable. It’s not just the taboo of the act, but the trust that comes with allowing another person to explore a part of the body so hidden, so secret, so quintessentiallybiological. It’s amental act as much as a physical one—and it’s also a signal of confidence.

One day soon, I’ll tell Everett how monumental it is for me to let him do this. He’ll know how few people have touched me here, how nobody else has fucked me here, how I saved it for him.

“In an alley,” he mutters, pushing more of his cock into me. “My little slut. Ass up, cheeks spread, tits out. You’ll do anything to get it right now, won’t you?” His hand wraps around the end of my ponytail and he tugs, yanking my head back to rest on his shoulder. “Does it hurt?” he asks, speaking against my cheek.

It does. Even though I wore the plug, Everett is big and pierced. I nod silently, feeling the skin on our cheeks rubbing together.

“It’ll fit,” he whispers, switching from merciless to soothing. “You can take it. Every part of this body was built to take big cocks deep and milk the cum out of them.”

I cry out, stimulated by another thrust and his vulgar words. “You’resick.”

“Entirely.”

“I’m obsessed.”

His free hand slides up my stomach, toying with my belly button piercing on the way to cup my tit. His palm is big and covers my breast while his thumb and forefinger pinch my nipple.

“I’ll never get over these beautiful, pierced tits,” he murmurs, toying with the barbell while working in more of his length. His hand skims the plane of my chest and goes to my neck. “On the best little whore in the entire District, and she’s mine.” He thrusts even deeper.

Now, the stretch is more than I can handle. “So full. Everett—” I plead, needing something to work against the pressure. I need stimulation elsewhere. I need—

“Use your words,” he urges, collaring me with his hand. “Tell me what you need.”

“Choke me,” I reply, grasping at his wrist. “I need it.”

He doesn’t hesitate. His hand tightens on my neck at once. At the same time, he thrusts his cock upwards and deeper into me.

“Shit,” he mutters. “Look at you taking it. So pretty on my dick. Is there anything you can’t take from me?”

His hand on my neck is firm and exactly what I need. Calm once more, dancing on the edges of euphoria, I lower my hand under my skirt and push my fingertips against my clit.

“Nobody feels as good as you do,” Everett goes on. “I’ve waited my whole—”Thrust. “—goddamn life—”Another inch. “—to own a whore like you.” He bottoms out, groaning loud and unrefined before putting his lips by my ear. “We were always meant to fuck like this.”

“I know.”

“Mine.”

“Yes.” The word is garbled and strained, in need of more air than he’s giving me, but I force it out anyway. I’m his.

His cheek touches mine. “You’re okay,” he whispers. “You’re doing so good, princess.”

The praise makes my heart race, and my desire spirals into necessity. I need more of his cock, more of his touch—more of his filthy words.

“How good?” I question, hoping he knows what I’m asking for.

“So damn good,” he praises, proving how well he understands me. “Everything I hoped for. Everything I’ve ever wanted. God, the money I’m going to spend on this fucking body…going to buy and fuck every inch of you, and you’llthank me.”

The stretch is obscene, and I rub my clit like it’s a job. Everett keeps thrusting, keeps telling me I’m the best and tightest thing he’s ever felt. He knows I’m close—and he pounds into me, thighs slamming against my ass. My body tingles, welcomingthe swells of pleasure against pain lapping at me like the tides. I stand there and I take it—take it like a good girl—and let him fuck me to pieces. The surrender is divine for once, and I welcome every second of being this man’s well paid little fuck toy.

And with his hands all over me and his cock deep inside me, it happens—Icome.

I come while groaning his name, speaking with my cheek pressed against the brick wall. I’m unabashed. I’m loud. I’m a wrecked version of myself, shameless and thrilled and gone to pleasure.

This night isn’t ephemeral; it’stranscendent.

Everett releases my neck to put his hands on my hips. He goes for it, thrusting, gripping my skin, telling me I’m a perfect whore for him—and I am. I feel perfect for him, and he feels perfect for me, and I don’t know how either of us is ever going to move on from this.

Maybe we can’t. Maybe we won’t.

---