She slammed the laptop shut and shoved it aside, her fingers already yanking at the waistband of her shorts. The words from the story still burned in her head—wet cunt, thick cock, hard fucking—and they had her soaked. No slow tease tonight. She needed it dirty.
Mark walked in from the kitchen, beer in hand, and saw the look on her face. He set the bottle down without a word. “You reading that filthy shit again?”
“Get your cock out,” she said, voice flat and direct. “Now.”
He didn’t argue. Belt undone, jeans shoved down, his dick already half-hard from the tone she used. She dropped to her knees on the living room rug, grabbed him by the base, and took him straight to the back of her throat. No licking, no gentle start. She sucked hard, cheeks hollowed, spit already dripping down her chin onto her tits.
“Fuck, yeah,” he growled, hand fisting her hair. “Suck that dick like the slut you are.”
She moaned around him, the vibration making his balls tighten. Her free hand shoved two fingers into her own pussy, pumping fast, the wet sounds loud in the quiet room. She pulled off his cock just long enough to say, “I want it in my cunt. Hard. Don’t hold back.”
Mark hauled her up, spun her around, and bent her over the arm of the couch. He ripped her shorts and panties down in one rough tug, lined up, and drove in balls-deep on the first thrust. She cried out, half pain, half relief, gripping the cushions as he started pounding.
Every stroke was deep and brutal, skin slapping, her ass jiggling with the force. He reached under her, found her clit, and rubbed it in tight, fast circles. “This what that smut does to you? Turns you into a dripping mess that needs a real cock?”
“Yes—fuck—yes,” she gasped. “Harder. Make it hurt.”
He gave her exactly what she asked for, hips snapping, the couch scraping across the floor. Sweat slicked their skin. She came first, pussy clenching tight around him, a gush of wetness soaking his balls and the couch. He didn’t stop. He kept fucking her through it, then pulled out, flipped her onto her back on the floor, and shoved back inside.
Her legs locked around his waist. She clawed at his shoulders, biting his neck as he hammered into her. “Come in me,” she ordered. “Fill that cunt up.”
Mark groaned, buried himself to the hilt, and unloaded. Thick pulses of cum flooded her, leaking out around his cock with every last thrust. He stayed inside until he softened, then pulled out and watched the mess drip from her swollen pussy onto the rug.
She reached down, scooped some of it with two fingers, and licked them clean while staring at him. “Again. In ten minutes. I’ve got more stories to read.”
He grinned, already stroking himself back to life. “Keep reading, then. I’ll fuck you every time you get wet.”
She opened the laptop again, found the next filthy chapter, and started reading out loud while he fingered her cum-filled cunt. The night stretched on exactly like that—raw, direct, no romance, just repeated, messy fucking until both of them were spent and sore. Exactly what the smut demanded.
