Page 101 of The Naughty List

“Dirty fucking bitch,” he hisses, but he does it, wrapping his arm around to fill my pussy with his fingers, mashing them against the right spot – just like I knew he would from this position.

He’s a relentless monster on the brink, picking up the pace and fucking my sorry ass with a vengeance, grunting and slamming.

I know he’s coming, and so am I. I’m coming in sync with a masked man fucking my ass against a battered truck, by a derelict barn in the middle of the night, and I’m smiling. It’s pure fucking insanity. Beyond words. Beyond reason. Beyond anything I could have ever imagined.

Jesus Christ, I’m shivering, coming down from my orgasm. My teeth are chattering loud when User 706 pulls out of me and zips his jeans up.

“Don’t you dare think we’re done yet,” he says, sucking in breaths through his mask. “I want to see the full filthy state of you. Get in the truck. Passenger side.”

I do as I’m told with nothing more than a nod, tugging my skirt down as I go. Damn, my bare feet are like ice blocks. My toes must be fucking blue. He switches the engine on as he climbs into the driver’s seat, and flicks on the light overhead. I blink against the glow, almost breaking role and thanking him as he puts the heater on. The blowers feel like heaven as they warm up.

It’s the first time I truly get sight of him, in his hoodie, looking absolutely terrifying with his black mask over his face.

There’s something instinctive about a thick, woollen face mask with eye holes. Almost criminal. His eyes are still dark and thirsty, and even through the cold, I’m grateful our time isn’t up yet.

“Show me how filthy you are,” he says, and I turn towards him, baring my muddy tits.

I look down at myself as he does, and I really am a state –my skin smeared with dirt and my cami top a scrunch of mud around my waist. I don’t even look at my bare legs, just show him the goods of my top half, my nipples still hard, even though the blowers are beginning to blast out heat.

The warmth is like heaven.

“I want to see the wet wreck of your pussy and ass,” he says. “Spread for me. Heel up on the dash.”

The size of his truck makes it easy to give a good display. I rest my head against the passenger window and hook one leg between our seats, raising my other foot up onto the dash. I’m watching him as he soaks in the sight, and it’s my own horniness, not his instruction, that has my hands roving down between my legs.

I spread my pussy lips to give him a better view, and he leans over me, offering his fingers to my mouth.

“Spit on them.”

I hack up a decent amount, and he uses it to twist three fingers straight back into my asshole.

“I know how much you fucking like it,” he says, and I nod for him.

“Yeah, I’m an anal loving slut.”

I’m sore from taking his cock, but it doesn’t hold me back from moving against his thrusts, silently urging him on. I tip my head back and curse with afuckwhen he slides in another finger, but I don’t protest, just keep on leveraging myself against the stretch.

I work against my masked attacker’s thrusting hand, happy at the burn of the four-finger stretch. I’m looking straight at his hooded face as I slide a hand down and play with my clit as he fingers my wet ass.

I smile. “You were right, you know? I did want to be fucked earlier. I was desperate for cock when you grabbed me.”

“Some sluts are always gagging for it, even when they kick and scream.”

“I’m one of them.”

“Show me, then. Play with your needy cunt until you come.”

“I’ll come easily, as long as you keep pumping those thick fingers.”

“Fucking dirty whore,” he says.

“Says the man who’s fingering my cum-filled ass,” I reply and he grins at me, twisting those fingers until I’m gritting my teeth.

He’s rougher now. Stretching me with a fresh bout of force as I circle my clit. I focus on his eyes as I lick my lips with a slutty grin, hoping I get snatched by a guy like him in the future.

Maybe he’ll be kind enough to offer a repeat performance.

I know my next orgasm is going to be a big one. Hy heel is braced on the dashboard as I press down, wanting extra strain as he stretches me. My fingers work faster, and my breaths get quicker, building up to a filthy crescendo.

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