His hand tightens imperceptibly around my throat. His voice deepens and becomes more guttural. I know he’s close.
“You’re my bitch, aren’t you, girl?”
“You’re just a hole to fuck!”
Any number of these things and much more will be growled, hissed, grunted, or whispered as his orgasm nears.
If I possess power as a submissive, this is the moment when I feel it. My wet, slick folds surround his cock and bring him to the brink. He can’t help but growl obscenities at me. I love knowing that he’s about to cum, and I’m always turned on by his words and the tone of his voice.
As he pounds into me, thrusting harder and harder, my tits swaying and jiggling, I keen and squeal, shriek and moan.
“Ohhhh, Daddy…oh, oh, OH DADDY! You fuck me so good, you fuck me so good, youfuckmesogooooooooooood!”
He slams into my cunt faster and harder as I speak. Sometimes, I’m barely coherent even as I’m rambling and fumbling for words. All I know is that I need to speak, need to let him know that I can take more, give me more, fuck me until I think I’ll break.
“You want me to fuck you like this, little slut? Like THIS?!” His roar turns me on as much as the steely grip in my hair, pulling me this way and that.
The groan he utters when he finally thrusts one last time, filling me with his seed, is musical to me. That sound alone can keep me wanting more for hours.
Knowing all of this, does it surprise you that I used to cringe at dirty talk during sex? I hated it. I felt awkward. It was unnatural to me. Now, if I’m not talking dirty, it’s because I’ve finally been fucked into oblivion.
Thank you Wicked Wednesday letting me talk dirty this week.