Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
I groan, pistoning into her ass now.
“That’s right, you’re Daddy’s anal whore that loves getting her ass fucked. Isn’t that right? You’ll be begging me for butt sex on a daily basis going forward because this little asshole loves getting stretched by Daddy’s cock so much.”
I lose it then, fucking her harder, deeper, every thrust sending aftershocks through her whole body. She cries out, her big breasts swaying with the rhythm because it’s all pleasure—she’s loving this, loving being used, loving the filth of having a man’s cock buried deep in her rear end.
“You’re such a dirty slut,” I snarl, the words hot in her ear. “You’ll let me fuck you in any hole, won’t you? All of your filthy holes crave cock.”
She nods, face mashed into the pillow, drool pooling at the edge of her mouth. “Daddy, yes! Please. Don’t stop.”
I grab her hair, twist it in my fist, and use it as leverage as I slam into her, over and over. My shaft throbs, the pressure building, and I know I can’t last much longer.
I slow, desperate to make it last, but she’s lost in the haze of sensation. Her pussy spasms once, gushing down her thighs as I piston in and out of her ass.
“You gonna come for me?” I ask, rubbing her clit in tight circles.
She gasps, “Yes, oh god, yes, I’m so close—”
I fuck her harder, faster, and she screams as she comes, the orgasm ripping through her, ass clamping around my cock so tight I almost black out.
“Oh god, Liam! Yes yes yes mmmmm!”
The sound of her pleasure pushes me over the edge. I roar, hips snapping forward as I unload, every spurt of ejaculate painting her insides, the white-hot pleasure blinding.
“Fuck!” I shout, pounding her butt with the full force of my fuckshaft. “Shit shit shit!”
She screams again, her asshole spasming around my cock as she experiences a deep anal orgasm for the first time.
“Liam!” she wails. “Oh god, Daddy, yes!”
We shake and wail for ages, my cock pumping gallon after gallon of sweet, hot sperm deep inside her anal passage. Her butt ripples around me, milking me dry of every drop, the pleasure so great that I lose my vision temporarily. Finally, I collapse over her, both of us shaking, sweat pooling between our bodies. The moonlight through the blinds paints stripes across our skin, zebra-stripes of blue and white and the red of my flushed face.
For a long minute, neither of us moves.
Finally, I pull out, slow, watching the way her asshole gapes, glazed and slick with lube and my cum. Unable to resist, I lean forward and lick it, enjoying the flavor of her used rectum.
She rolls onto her side, hair plastered to her cheek, eyes glazed.
“Daddy, what are you doing?” she whispers in a scandalized voice. “That’s— that’s!”
I pull her close, spooning her, my hand over her heart.
“Daddy does whatever he wants with your body,” I growl. “And you were perfect, sweetheart. Exactly the kind of anal whore I’ve always craved.”
She stares at me.
“Am I really an anal whore?”
I grin, flashing white teeth in the darkness.
“You will be after I’m done with you, sweetheart. You’ll be gaping on a 24/7 basis if I have my way.”
Simone is scandalized and tentatively clenches her backdoor for a moment, testing it. Deciding she likes the used feeling, she snuggles back, and we lie there in silence, listening to the city hum, the echo of our bodies still buzzing in the air.
I stroke her arm, feeling the goosebumps rise under my fingers.
“I love you,” I say, before I can stop myself.
She doesn’t reply right away. But she kisses my hand, and that’s enough.
We fall asleep tangled together, the sheets a disaster, the world outside forgotten.
Tonight, there’s no remainder.
Tonight, we fit.
The light in the kitchen is different in the morning. It’s sharp, honest—a pattern of rectangles on the tile, every grout line and speck of dust suddenly lit up in high definition. I don’t mind. I like seeing the place in its most unforgiving state. There’s a truth to it, a refusal to hide anything, and after last night that seems appropriate.
I’m at the stove, spatula in hand, the sizzle of eggs loud against the hush. The only other sound is the soft click of Simone’s nails on her phone as she scrolls, sitting at the island in nothing but my shirt, which shows off her big breasts. She’s looped her blonde hair into a messy knot on top of her head. She looks completely at home. Better than at home—she looks like she belongs here, which is something I never let myself hope for.
She glances up, eyes barely open, and makes a vague gesture at my apron. “Is that new?”
I look down. It’s red and white, ruffled at the edges, a cupcake of an apron with PEANUT BUTTER IS MY JAM in bubble letters across the chest. I’d bought it on a dare, but now it seems to fit, in an ironic way.