Sharing Her Deepest Desires

She couldn’t help herself. The breathy moans, wet skin, and smeared mascara drew her in. The long, thick cock was nice, but it was the woman who captured her attention.

Thumping beats thrummed through her veins. She should have rolled her eyes at the cheesy tune but it worked. The whole scene worked.

Bent and twisted, knees by her chin, skin red from repeated smacks, this willing woman starring in a low budget porn was everything she wanted for herself.

The gaping cavern of her ass, spread and opened by plugs, hands, and finally cock startled her with the stark reality of what the human body was capable of and turned her on at the feeling of witnessing the forbidden.

She supposed she should feel shame at her desire, at her voyeurism. The actors on the screen were paid to fuck and suck each other, but it seemed to her that this was a private moment. One she was intruding on. One she wanted for herself.

Her phone dinged.

What are you doing, little one?

He always seemed to know when she was up to something. A sixth sense tying them together.

Watching porn, Sir.

He’d never expressly forbidden it. She wasn’t touching herself. Not yet anyway.

What kind of porn?

Heat suffused her cheeks. Theirs was a relationship built on total honesty. Would he respond with shock, anger, dismay, or, as she hoped, curiosity and delight?

Anal porn, Sir.

A quick glance at the screen showed her the woman was in a new position. Sandwiched between two bodies, cocks entering pussy and ass filled her vision. The music and wails of the actress faded away.

In the quiet stillness of her room, she imagined the warmth of her Sir’s body below her own, his cock slipping deep into her willing pussy as another covered her back, surrounding her senses in a new scent, new feel, and oh God yes, a new cock, plunging deep into her asshole.

Quivering, she looked down at her phone. It vibrated and jittered in her hand.

“Hello?”

“Touch that cunt of mine, girl. Tell me how soaked you are. Tell me what you’re watching.”

Slippery folds parted beneath her fingers. She described the double penetration scene in front of her. Haltingly, she told him how much she wanted to be that girl. Owned by one man, but possessed by two cocks. That was her new fantasy.

Juices coated her fingers. Slipping and sliding over her clit, fire pulsed white and hot in her veins. Grunting noises penetrated her fog. The video was silent. Realization dawned.

“Sir?”

“Keep going.” The words were strained. She trembled with understanding.

She described the feeling of being used and abused, her ass stretched and gaping, how dirty it made her feel. She wanted a third, a cock filling her throat. For one brief moment, she wanted to be a toy, to be filled with and covered with sticky come.

“Aaaahhhhhh!”

A deep-throated release was her only response. Wet heat filled her own hand in response.

“Come for me, girl. Be my dirty girl, and come!” His own gasping, halting words sent her over the edge.

Curling toes, arching back, spasming muscles. Cream-covered fingers. She screamed her pleasure.

“Good girl. Such a good girl.”

Struggling for breath, she stuttered a “Thank you, Sir” before collapsing into the bed.

“Get cleaned up. I’ll be there in an hour, and I’m bringing friends.”

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