She straddled his lap on the worn leather couch, her bare thighs gripping him tight while she held the open laptop between them. The screen glowed with the filthy words she had just typed. "Read it out loud," she demanded, grinding her wet pussy against the hard ridge in his jeans. "Tell me if this shit counts as porn or just smut."
He smirked, one hand sliding up to squeeze her ass. "Is smut considered porn when it's this fucking raw?" His fingers dug in, spreading her cheeks so the cool air hit her exposed hole. She moaned and rocked harder, her clit dragging along his zipper.
"Keep going," she ordered, voice low and dirty. She reached down and freed his cock, stroking the thick length with a tight fist. Precum beaded at the tip and she smeared it over the head with her thumb. "Read the next part. The part where she begs to be used."
He glanced at the screen and started reading in that rough voice that always made her drip. "'She dropped to her knees and took his cock down her throat like she was starving for it. No teasing, no romance—just a sloppy, gagging mess while he fucked her face.'"
She dropped between his spread legs right there on the couch and did exactly that. Her mouth opened wide, lips stretching around his shaft as she shoved him to the back of her throat in one wet glide. Spit ran down her chin and onto his balls. She gagged once, twice, but kept swallowing, eyes watering while she stared up at him.
"Fuck, that's it," he growled, fisting her hair. He thrust up into her mouth, using her exactly like the story. "You writing this filth and then acting it out? That's porn, baby. Smut doesn't make you choke this hard."
She pulled off with a filthy pop, strings of saliva connecting her swollen lips to his cock. "Prove it," she rasped, climbing back onto his lap and lining him up. She sank down fast, taking every inch into her soaked cunt in one brutal drop. Her walls clenched around him, pulsing hot and tight. "If it's porn, fuck me like it is. No sweet shit. Pound this pussy until I can't walk."
He grabbed her hips and slammed up to meet her, the couch creaking under them. Each thrust was deep and vicious, his cock dragging against her front wall while her clit ground against his pubic bone. Wet sounds filled the room—skin slapping, her juices squelching around his shaft. She braced her hands on his chest and rode him hard, tits bouncing, nipples tight.
"Keep reading," she panted, even as her voice broke on a moan. "Next scene. The one with the fingers in her ass."
He reached around with one hand, spit on his fingers, and shoved two thick digits straight into her tight hole. She cried out, clenching around both his cock and his fingers. The stretch burned so good she saw stars. He pumped them in time with his thrusts, fucking both holes while she bounced.
"Is this smut or porn now?" he taunted, voice ragged. "You're dripping down my balls, taking it in both ends like a filthy little writer who can't tell the difference."
She came hard, cunt fluttering and gushing around him, ass squeezing his fingers. Her whole body shook, but she didn't stop moving. "Don't you fucking stop," she hissed. "Fill me up.
I want to feel it leak out while I edit the next chapter."
He flipped her onto her back on the couch cushions, hooked her legs over his shoulders, and drove in deep. The new angle punched against her cervix with every stroke. He fucked her like he hated her, sweat dripping onto her tits, grunting with every brutal thrust. When he came he buried himself to the root, pulsing hot jets of cum straight into her womb.
They stayed locked together, breathing hard. She reached for the laptop again, cum already starting to trickle out around his softening cock.
"So," she said, voice hoarse, "is smut considered porn?"
He laughed low and dirty, already hardening again inside her. "Ask me after round two. I'll show you the difference."
