I always swore I was smutfree. Clean stories, fade-to-black kisses, nothing that got my hands dirty or my mind filthy. Then Marcus showed up at my door with that cocky grin and a bottle of cheap whiskey, and every rule I had cracked open like cheap lace.
He didn’t ask. He just stepped inside, kicked the door shut, and said, “You’ve been pretending too long.” His mouth was on mine before I could lie again. Tongue deep, tasting like smoke and trouble. My back hit the wall and his thigh shoved between my legs, grinding hard against the thin cotton of my shorts until I was soaking through them.
“Tell me you’re still smutfree,” he growled against my throat, teeth scraping. I tried. The word died when his fingers shoved past my waistband and straight into my cunt. Two thick digits, no warm-up, pumping fast and filthy. Wet sounds filled the hallway. I was dripping down his knuckles already.
He dragged me to the couch, bent me over the arm, and yanked my shorts down to my knees. Cool air hit my bare ass for half a second before his palm cracked across it. I yelped. He laughed low and mean. “Look at this pretty hole clenching for me. Thought you didn’t like smut?”
His cock slapped heavy against my ass cheek, thick and hot. He didn’t ease in. One rough thrust and he was buried to the balls, stretching me wide open. I clawed the cushions and moaned like a whore. Every stroke was brutal, skin slapping, my juices running down my thighs. He grabbed my hair, yanked my head back, and fucked me harder.
“Say it,” he demanded. “Say you’re not smutfree anymore.”
I came instead, cunt pulsing around him, soaking the couch. He didn’t stop. He flipped me onto my back, shoved my knees to my chest, and drove back in. Deeper this time. Meaner. His thumb rubbed tight circles on my swollen clit while he pounded me, eyes locked on mine.
“Again,” he ordered. I shook my head, but my body betrayed me. The second orgasm hit sharper, legs shaking, voice breaking on his name. He pulled out, flipped me again, and pushed into my ass with spit-slick fingers first, then his cock. Slow burn for one stroke, then full speed. I screamed into the cushion, stuffed full in both holes by his fingers and dick.
He came with a grunt, flooding my ass, then pulled out and smeared the mess across my cunt before pushing back inside for one last lazy thrust. We stayed like that, breathing hard, his cum leaking out around his softening cock.
I used to write the clean stuff. Now I’m the story. And I’m never going back to smutfree.
