Teach Me Dirty

I placed my hands on her ass cheeks, spread them wide, and nudged inside a little further.

“Ow, ow…”

“Relax onto it, Helen. Just a little bit more and the hurt will pass.”

I pushed in slowly, breath by breath, stopping every time she whimpered until the pleasure broke me. I flattened myself against her back, pinning her with the weight of me, and she liked that. Her murmurs were all pleasure as I hooked her arms with mine and held her steady.

My cheek pressed to hers and hers was clammy.

“Fuck,” she said.

“Is that nice?”

“Yes,” she hissed. “So fucking nice.”

“You have a beautiful ass, Helen. So fucking tight. Clench me.”

“What?”

“Squeeze my cock, Helen. I want to feel your muscles squeezing my cock.”

There was hesitation as I pinned her there, but then she squeezed and Christ it was everything I could do not to come right there and she giggled when I moaned and tensed and gripped her hips.

“God, Helen…” I was going to ask her to do it again but she didn’t need asking. She clenched and squeezed and my cock was straining. “Jesus!”

She giggled again.

“You think this is funny, Helen Palmer?”

She squeezed me again and pushed onto me and the tightness gave a little. I was inside, past the muscle, gripped tight by my sweet little angel.

“Not funny,” she hissed, “just fucking dirty… sir. It feels like… it feels like I’m… you know.”

I knew what she meant. “Do it again,” I said, “push me out.”

No hesitation. She strained against me and tightened and I allowed her to push my cock all the way out.

“Fuck!” she cried out. “Yes… oh God yes.”

“You’re a dirty girl, Helen Palmer.”

She looked back at me, eyes dark, hooded, a salacious grin on her face. “I’m your dirty girl, sir. Fuck me!”

“My pleasure, Helen. My fucking pleasure.”

She cried out as I pushed in deep, and she was so tight that I nearly shot my load in one thrust. I swore under my breath, and her tender squirming only exasperated the situation. I was twitchy inside her, my balls hot and tight and ready to fucking explode.

I moved my hips so gently, delicate thrusts in and out until she was panting.

“Fuck… oh, Mark… fuck…”

“Does it feel good?”

She moaned and nodded her head. “So fucking good…”

“That’s my girl.” I thrust steadily, inching in and out. “I’m going to come in your tight little ass, Helen. I’m going to shoot my load so fucking deep.”

“Harder…” she hissed. “I want it harder, like you said, hard and fast…”

She cried out as I lost my restraint, whimpering as I fucked her deep, but it didn’t take long for the pain to morph into something so much better. Her hands flew out and grabbed the edge of the table and she mewled and whimpered and her body rippled as I slammed into her.

I slammed and thrust until my skin made wet slapping noises against hers and still she cried out for more. It was bliss, a perfect meeting of flesh, and I grunted and growled and pinned her hard.

“I’m on the fucking edge,” I yelled. “Right on the fucking edge.”

She yelped and shuddered and cried out with every thrust and her ass sucked at me, pulled at me, drew me all the way in and out in perfect harmony… “Fuck, Helen… Fuck.” And I was gone, pounding her deep as I exploded inside her. She took it all, took all of me.

I shivered the most glorious shiver as I came down, my cock spasming inside. My heavy breathing matched hers, calming in sync as my cock slipped away from her.

I touched my forehead to her back, held her, kissed her damp skin.

“So,” I said. “What do you think?”

Her ass shimmied under me, a soft giggle teased my senses.

“I think I’m a dirty girl, Mr Roberts, sir.”

Helen

Mr Roberts taught me dirty.

He taught my ass to take his cock, and my mouth to open wide for him. He taught my clit how to come for him, over and over again. He taught me where my g-spot is, and how much I enjoy his weight crushing mine.

He taught me the sensation of metal cuffs on skin. The blissful pain of wax, and teeth, and swollen tender flesh.

He taught me to display my naked body with pride.

He taught me how wonderful it feels to be kissed from head to toe and back again.

He taught me the pleasure of tangled limbs and slow, deep sex in the mornings.

He taught me how to scream, and how to call his name like it’s the only word in creation.

Mr Roberts taught me so much dirty, and I loved every single lesson.

But he also taught me so much more.

Mr Roberts taught me how to make croissants from scratch for breakfast.

He taught me to mimic the hoot of an owl with hollow palms and quick breaths.