Pretty when I cry

pretty when I cry - sex blog erotica

It began differently to other times. Times when he’s the one pouncing on me when I peel off my nightclothes and get into bed, after his appreciative murmurs and openly lecherous looks up and down my naked body as I strip. Different to when he’s the one waking me in the middle of the night, my first warning coming from the shift on the mattress closely followed by his hard and ready cock pressing urgently at my entrance. The entrance of his choice.

This time, he was already asleep when I got to bed. I had to have him. I quickly stripped off and let my clothes fall where they will. Climbing under the duvet I sought him out with my fingers. Pulling him on to his back I could easily access the waistband of his shorts and slip my fingers between the fabric and his body. My other hand stroking over the soft mound underneath his underwear, feeling it quickly respond to attention. Well trained and quickly ready. I expertly stroked some more, firm strokes to arouse and tease, while pressing my naked body up against his side. My breasts against his arm, his fingers unwittingly teasing so close to my needy vulva.

Enough with the fabric barrier. My fingers already looped inside his waistband I tugged at them, and he was roused to a semi-alert state yet still dazed. Confused for a moment but immediately appeased by the happy situation he found himself in. Helping me to remove his shorts, I kept one hand around the base of his now frighteningly hard cock as I shuffled down under the duvet. He finally removed the shorts entirely, dropping them by the side of the bed, then took what I imagine to be great delight in helping my head into position. His hand in my hair, hurriedly, urgently and devilishly forcing my head down, down and my mouth on to his waiting, demanding cock.

My mouth was desperate to taste him and not only taste that salty, hot piece of him but to feel the pulsing flesh and the perfect shape of it between my lips and fucking my throat. He hardly needed to force my head on to it because I was so eager to be throat-fucked, to inspire those creamy beads of pre-cum to his tip, for them to spill out into my mouth and be relished and swallowed and keep on sucking for more. I sucked on him hard and enthusiastically. I greedily circled the head of his cock and the frenulum with my tongue then plunging my head down on his shaft, cheeks sucked in to give that tight contact to his cock and hitting my tonsils with his tip, matching my racing heart beat for beat.

He was properly awake now, unsurprisingly, and it didn’t take long for the knowing attentions of my mouth to encourage those pre-orgasm spasms through his body, the tell-tale forceful thrusts of his cock down my throat. I carried on with the same motions, as steady as I could, knowing that to stop, slow or even speed up could throw him off course. One of my hands still gripped the base of his shaft, slippery and with difficulty as most of his cock was in my mouth and his tip actually inside my throat with every full thrust. My other hand alternated between fingertips and rounded nails stroking his perineum and over his tightening testicles, and gripping his balls firmly but safely, tugging them down hard in that way which makes him orgasm fast and hard.

It happened as I knew, well, as I hoped it would. One final tug downwards of his balls and his cock shoved so far down my throat that I was gagging on it, noisily, wet mess everywhere and I could hardly breathe, I felt like I was going to sick up but just about kept a handle on it, and he thrusted upwards with his hips, with moans louder than all his previous moans and exploded those sticky hot ribbons of cum directly down my throat. I always know just a fraction of a second before he cums, and take my last breath in with my nose and then he cums and I swallow and swallow and then swallow some more.

He’s still pulsing in my mouth and I suck on him and lick at his cock in the post-orgasm moment, taking advantage of his hyper-sensitivity to tease him some more. It’s my nature, I can’t help it. He’s used to it, and drags me away with a look that’s affectionate, stern and berating all at once. I know I’ll pay for that later.

We lay side by side in the low lamp-light and don’t have any need to speak.

I want more.

While he’s lying there with his eyes closed enjoying the almost faded ripples of pleasure and back to an almost normal, sedate state, I pounce again. Hands on his wrists and he lets me hold them down to the pillows behind his head as I straddle him. Our naked bodies meeting at our sex. I just sit on him for a moment and look into his eyes, and can tell that he is up for more. He’s always up for more. A machine.

Raising my hips in the usual way I can easily slip just the end of his still hard cock inside my incredibly wet cunt. Sucking him and making him cum hard down my throat always turns me on so much that my inner thighs are a sticky mess of arousal. I lean down to kiss him, my mouth still awash with the taste of his cum – but he loves the taste. It makes him kiss me all the more passionately, his tongue sweeping around my mouth, exploring, relishing every last remnant of his cum and combining that pleasure with kissing me because he loves me but lusts for me, and these moments are the culmination of that desire and emotion. I kiss him back harder, matching his passion, and at the same time sit down hard on his cock, my tight but slippery pussy offering absolutely no resistance whatsoever.

He gasps and moans all at once into my mouth as we’re still kissing. So satisfying. I start to move, slowly at first, up and down on his cock and my tits hang down heavily, nipples brushing his chest hair. He moves his hands out easily from underneath my playfully Dominant hands on his wrists, there’s nothing I could do to stop him. His fingers find my nipples and pinch them gently at first, then increasing in pressure until I’m the one moaning against his mouth in now intermittent kisses, gasping and moaning and squealing. Rising and sitting on his cock, my thighs clamped hard to his body, riding him on top and wanting more, always more, insatiable for his sex.

Our motion gets faster and faster, our mouths no longer seeking each other out carefully and lovingly but lips crashing against one another, breaking away for necessary gasps of breath, dry mouths as hydration is required urgently elsewhere within us. His hands mauling my breasts, my hands in his hair, or scratching at his shoulders, or frigging myself hard around my now slippery clit with my fingers plunged between our pressed-tight bodies.

It’s only once breathing is haggard and strained, our tired bodies ready to collapse but stubborn with need for completion that the fucking reaches that necessary frenzied rate of carnal rutting. Everything else forgotten; I need him to cum inside me. Now. I tell him that. He needs to know. I need you to cum inside me. The names fall from my filthy lips, Daddy, I need your cum, put Daddy’s cum in your little girl, please cum in me Daddy, I need it Daddy, I want to feel down in the night and feel your cum protecting me from the inside Daddy, I want to be left sticky with your hot cum, Daddy, please, please cum inside me now Daddy… and he does, he cums again and inside my cunt this time with a thrashing roar of victory and need and lust and conquest and love.

Twice I took him and ‘made’ him cum inside me, taking his cum with my slutty mouth and cunt. I suspect his thoughts before he strikes – I know him too well by now. Time for punishment for being a slut, he tells me. I’m scared. Turned on by the fear.

He tells me to turn over and I do, helped my his hurried movement of me on to my front. I’m on all fours and he reaches for something nearby. Lubricant, I realise, as I feel the cold gel smear over my anus from his finger tip. I try to stop myself thinking because the thoughts bring more fear of the pain. It hurts, there’s no denying it. It hurts like a fucker. I don’t want to have anal sex before I have it, I do want to have anal sex because I know I will enjoy it after the initial pain, but the fear confuses me. I want him. I want him inside me and he will make it all ok. It’s always good with him and he will look after me.

I sense him readying his cock for the third strike; this time he will take me whether I like it or not. I don’t safe out.

His cock tip presses on my entrance and I squeeze my eyes closed and take the breath. His cock pops inside without much resistance due to the thick slippery lubricant coating me and his cock. He takes it slowly from here, thankfully, and doesn’t push further quite yet. He is letting me adjust. He is also enjoying those involuntary squeals and moans that fall from my mouth, the undertones of which betray an arousal from his actions which pleases him. He moves forward and as he does so he can now reach my wrists, struggling to hold me upright in that all fours position while I am being invaded by him and feel his weight bearing down on my already shattered body. He edges in further and further, bit by bit, a hand on my wrist moving it and urging me without words to stimulate myself to make it easier. Kindness during his cruelty. I obey, moving my fingers down and using his leaking cum from my pussy as lubricant to circle my erect clit. As the sensations from my trained sexual nerve endings travel through my body and are felt echoed by the sparks in my hard nipples, he pushes himself entirely home inside my arse. His groin against my arse and his cock deep inside me, penetrating my tight space. How does it feel, being fucked like a filthy alley slut? He asks me. I have no words to reply, only noises. Slut moans, whimpers of need, but whether it’s a need to stop or to carry on I couldn’t say. I can’t say anything. I carry on making the noises, hoping they are enough to satisfy him – as well as giving him my body for his pleasure. For our pleasure.

My remaining wrist holding me upright gives out and I collapse to the bed, flat. He moves with me in that instant, his legs spreading mine apart and positioning himself so his weight is on top of me, pinning me even more firmly to the bed. Unable to wriggle away, unable to escape his arse fucking and vocal tortures. You want this, you slut, he hisses. Don’t make out like you don’t. You need this. You’re Daddy’s naughty little girl and you’re getting what’s been coming to you. Lie still. It will be worse if you fight.

I don’t lie still. I have no intention of lying still. He doesn’t like it when I obey that instruction. He likes it more when he has to fight me, when he has to force me to stay still, to fuck me in spite of myself and as he rapes my body with his powerful cock. I wriggle as much as I can, which isn’t much, but the small movements are enough to get him pulsing in my arse. I can feel the results of my protesting body and my mouth spilling out the no, please Daddy no, don’t, stop – every single negative utterance I can think of but never our safeword – and he gives me what I really want. For him to fuck me in the filthiest way we can, to make out it’s against my will and to make out that he’s evil and raping me and a brutal bastard and entwining our Daddy little girl roleplay for the ultimate perversion and it’s fucking hot. I’m thrusting my arse backwards to greet his cock even as my mouth is saying no, and we know each other and how this works. The no means yes, more, don’t you fucking dare stop fucking me you delicious evil bastard, give me more, fuck me like the filthiest woman you’ve ever met, give me sex others don’t even dare dream about, indulge me in dirty talk which would make people faint to overhear.

original erotica by Cara SutraIt’s  overwhelming. My body, my mind, my emotions, my love and respect for him to be able to fuck me as I need is overwhelming and the tears flow. I’m crying with the happiness, the pain, the perfection of it all and also because quite honestly he loves to make me cry. The stimulation of mind and body is complete. My tears flowing down over my cheek on to his hand holding my wrist down tightly combined with my broken sobs of no, please stop, no and my traitor body fighting between the act of refusal and welcoming his anal fucking is too much. For both of us.

He raises himself back up, releases my wrist and holds on to my hips with both hands. Spreading my arse cheeks for maximum penetration he grunts and moans in a crescendo of primitive need as his cock reaches full hardness in my arse. I can feel it twitching and pulsing again in that recognisable way, and he gives one monstrous thrust against me, so hard I think I am bound to be physically broken. That hot fluid sensation fills my arse as he cums with one last shout of release, and he is done. I am done. His orgasm kicks off my own, he’s the one who taught me I can cum through anal sex. Through his anal sex. My body is totally his, my mind totally his, my heart totally his. As the orgasmic sensations devour my body the tears stream down my face, a mixture of relief and physical exertion and mental stimulation and emotional intensity.

He gently lies on top of my body, not even bothering to remove himself as his cock flutters with post-orgasm jerks and spasms. Before we spend the rest of the night in exhausted rapture he moves strands of hair away from my hot, wet face, kisses the tears off my cheek and tells me that I’m so pretty when I cry.

 

 

 

 

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