She slammed the book on the table and looked him dead in the eye. "Smut book definition," she said. "Page one. Cock in mouth until the throat opens up and takes it all the way down."
Mark didn't answer with words. He stood, unzipped, and fed her his dick while she stayed in the chair. Her lips stretched wide around the head, spit already dripping down her chin as she worked him deeper. She gagged once, eyes watering, but kept pushing until her nose pressed against his stomach. Every wet slurp filled the small apartment. She pulled off just long enough to say, "Definition two. Pussy dripping before the first finger even touches it." Then she went back down, sucking harder, one hand between her own legs rubbing through her jeans.
By the time he pulled her up and bent her over the table, her jeans were already soaked through. He yanked them down to her knees and shoved two fingers straight into her cunt. She was soaked, hot, and tight. He finger-fucked her hard and fast, the wet sounds loud and filthy. "Definition three," she gasped. "Getting railed until you can't remember your own name."
He replaced his fingers with his cock in one thrust. She cried out, gripping the edge of the table while he pounded into her from behind. Skin slapped skin. Her ass jiggled with every slam. He reached around and rubbed her clit in rough circles until she came, cunt pulsing around him, juices running down her thighs. He didn't stop. He kept fucking her through it, using her orgasm to make her even wetter.
Later, on the floor, she rode him reverse. Her ass bounced on his lap while she read lines from the book out loud between moans. "Definition four. Asshole fingered while the pussy gets stretched." He licked his thumb and pushed it into her tight hole. She moaned louder, grinding down harder. Sweat slicked her back. Her hair stuck to her face. She came again, shaking, then slid off and took him in her mouth once more, tasting herself on his cock.
They moved to the couch. He had her on her back, legs pushed to her chest, fucking her deep and steady. Every thrust made her tits bounce. She reached down and spread her pussy lips so he could watch his cock disappear inside her. "Definition five," she panted. "Creampie. Fill it up until it leaks."
He came hard, groaning as he pumped load after load into her. When he pulled out, thick white cum spilled out of her stretched hole and ran down to her asshole. She scooped some up with two fingers and sucked them clean while looking at him.
They kept going. In the shower she dropped to her knees again, water pouring over both of them while she sucked him back to hardness. He fucked her standing, one leg hooked over his arm, her back against the tiles. She came twice more before he finished on her tits and watched it wash away.
By morning the book lay open on the floor, pages wrinkled from where they'd stepped on it. She picked it up, flipped to the next blank page, and wrote in big letters: "Definition six. Do it all again tomorrow." Then she straddled him on the bed and sank down onto his cock without another word.
They spent the whole day testing every filthy line she could invent. No romance, no soft words, just raw need and bodies used until they were sore and satisfied. When she finally closed the book that night, her thighs were sticky, her voice hoarse from moaning, and the definition was no longer on paper. It was written all over both of them in sweat, cum, and the kind of exhaustion that only comes from fucking like the words mattered.
