Yeah, he tells me he hears nothing. …. he heard some moaning the other night, thats about it. I wouldn’t worry about it, I have very thick walls. I would, on the other hand, worry about your ass the next time you are over here. You have been a very very bad little boy…. and I’m gonna make sure you get fucked good and hard. We really need to work on stretching out the tight asshole of yours. I know you’re up for it. And now you know that my walls are thick enough that even when you scream all he hears are moans…. or… at least he’s gentlemanly enough to say that’s all he hears.
It has become a habit of mine that shortly after I see you my thoughts drift to your blog. Rereading entries that have served to make me especially wet before, and playing with myself again in front of my laptop over the same words.
I was doing this before my shift last night. And then I got a call later in the evening. He was quite and calm, intent. He was forceful. After we finished his fantasy, he just wanted me to talk for a while. He told me, “come on, you sound like you have a filthy imagination. What have you been jerking off about lately? Describe it to me.”
I told him I wanted him to push me onto my stomach. That he would move on top of me, so close to me. Teasing my ass with his hard cock. I reach my hand down just for a moment to feel how wet he has made me. I tell him about how he starts fucking my ass… moving his cock in deeper and deeper, how it hurts, but I know my tight asshole feels so good wrapped around his cock. I tell him how wet it makes me to feel his body so close to mine, to feel him whispering in my ear that I’m being, ‘such a good girl.’
That his words replay in my mind. ‘I’m trying to be nice. It’s taking all of my energy not to just fuck you and rip you apart.”
When he asks me if it hurts I tell him yes.
He asks me if I can take it, and I tell him yes.
I’m a ‘good girl’