She picked up the dog-eared paperback from his nightstand and flipped it open. The pages were marked with sticky notes and underlined passages full of crude language. "What does smut stand for?" she asked, half laughing, half curious.
He set his drink down and looked at her. "You really want to know?"
"Yeah. Tell me."
He stood up, walked over, and grabbed her by the hips. "It doesn't stand for anything until I show you. Take your clothes off."
She stripped fast, no teasing. He pushed her onto the bed on her knees and fed her his cock without warning. "S is for suck," he said, voice flat and direct. She opened her mouth and took him to the back of her throat, gagging on the first thrust. He held her head and fucked her face in steady strokes, spit running down her chin onto her tits. Every time she tried to pull back he pushed deeper, balls slapping her jaw. When he pulled out she was coughing, strings of saliva connecting her lips to his shaft. "That's S. Keep going."
He flipped her onto her back and spread her legs wide. "M is for missionary." He lined up and shoved inside in one hard push, no fingers first, just his full length stretching her open. She gasped at the sudden fullness. He started pounding, hips snapping, skin slapping loud and wet. Her pussy made filthy sounds around him every time he bottomed out. He kept his eyes on her face, watching her mouth fall open, watching her tits bounce with each thrust. "You feel that? That's what smut reads like." He reached down and rubbed her clit in rough circles while he fucked her, not gentle, just enough pressure to make her legs shake. She came hard, cunt clenching around him, but he didn't stop. He kept driving into her until the second orgasm hit and she was clawing at his back.
He pulled out and flipped her onto her stomach. "U is for up." He hauled her hips high so her ass was in the air, face down in the mattress. He spread her cheeks and drove back in from behind, deeper than before. One hand fisted her hair, the other smacked her ass hard enough to leave red prints. "This is how they write it in those books," he said, voice low and steady. "Hard. Fast. No romance." He reached under and pinched her nipple, twisting until she yelped, then fucked her through the sound. Her pussy was dripping down her thighs. He used the slick to push a thumb against her asshole, pressing but not entering yet, just threatening. Every thrust made her whole body jolt forward.
He yanked her upright by the hair so her back was against his chest, still buried inside her. "T is for take it." He walked her to the edge of the bed and bent her over the dresser, mirror right in front of them. She watched herself get fucked in the reflection, mouth open, eyes glassy. He reached around and rubbed her clit again, fast and mean, until she was begging. "Please," she said. "Please what?" he asked. "Please come," she answered. He slammed into her harder, balls tight, until he pulled out and painted her ass and lower back with thick ropes of cum. He didn't let her move right away. He rubbed the mess into her skin with his fingers, then pushed two of them into her mouth so she could taste both of them.
She was breathing hard, legs unsteady. He turned her around and kissed her once, rough, then pulled back. "That's what smut stands for," he said. "Now you know."
She looked at him, still flushed and marked. "Do it again," she said.
He smiled, already getting hard. "Which letter first?"
