Say Something Filthy

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When I slide into her, she has her resting bitch face on, but as soon as she sees me squirm, she bursts out laughing. I’m squirming because I’ve got cramp in my lower right leg, and it hurts more than I thought possible. I want to get up and walk it off, yet I can’t because she needs my come.

“Stop laughing,” I beg of her, but the more I grit my teeth with a pained expression on my face, the more she giggles clutching her belly as if in pain herself.

“You’re such a silly little man,” she snorts, “why can’t you just fuck me without making an issue of it?”

Trying to adjust my body weight, I move this way and that stretching my leg while at the same time trying to maintain a good rhythm. It’s disastrous, though. It doesn’t help that she keeps laughing either.

“If you keep laughing at me, I’ll have to put a pillow over your face.”

“You try it and see what happens,” she says with a hand covering her mouth. She looks away then looks back, and when she sees me wincing, the laughter lines around her eyes grow more defined by the second.

“It’s no good,” I say, “I’ll have to lie flat on top of you so I can keep going while stretching my leg.”

“What a sex machine you are,” she growls sarcastically.

“Either that or I wank into my hand and push the come into you. It’s your call.”

“Wow, what a choice.”

“Stop complaining,” I moan, but while repositioning myself, I come into contact with the soggiest part of the mattress and cuss no one in particular. Outside, I hear the blast of car horns, and it does nothing to alleviate my frustration.

“You’re the one who wanted me to get wet, so you’ve only got yourself to blame,” she snaps. I wish I had a comeback, yet what she says is true, so all I can do is grin and bear it. Shifting around, I find the best place to rest my arms and legs without them touching the dampest parts of the mattress. As punishment, I’ve already decided I’m gonna set light to it down some back-alley in the dead of night. That’ll teach it.

“Right,” I say, “I think I’m good to go again,” but truth be told, I have about a minute of action in me until I’m sure my leg will flare-up.

“What do you want me to do?” she asks, half-serious.

“What do you mean?” I reply.

“To help you come quickly.”

“Well,” I hesitate, “push your tits together and say something filthy,” and as expected, she bursts out laughing again, and despite my pain, I do too.

A Journal for Damned Lovers UK

A Journal for Damned Lovers US

Anthology UK / Anthology US

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