Chapter 6 #2
“Fuck,” I say, and it comes out broken, barely a word. “Fuck, look what you’re doing to me, you little cunt. You see this? You see how fucking hard you make me?”
I shove my fingers back into his mouth, the same ones that were just knuckle-deep in his ass. Two, then three, burying them to the knuckles until his throat clamps down on them.
I fuck his mouth with my hand while I watch his face stay blank.
“Yeah, you take that. You take whatever the fuck I decide to feed you. Spit. Fingers. Cock.” I pump my hand in and out of his throat, watching his face stay blank. “You don’t get a say, do you?”
I rip my fingers out, dragging nasty strings of saliva down his chin and onto his chest. I drag my thumb through the slop, across his lips, down his chin, and smear it all over his hard nipples.
“You’re a filthy little fuck-doll, you know that? A dumb, nasty, cock-drunk cunt. Look at you.” I grab his chin, force his empty eyes to meet mine. “You love being treated like a piece of meat.”
I wrap my wet hand around both our cocks at once, and the groan that rips out of my chest is loud and totally shameless. The wet friction of his meat sliding against mine, the heat, the contrast of his leaking dick pressed to my shaft—
I slam my head back against the headrest and just try to breathe, because I almost blew my load in my own hand like an amateur. Then I force his chin down so he has to watch my fist working between us, stroking our dicks together in long, sloppy, wet pulls.
“Look at your little doll dick leaking all over me.” I squeeze tighter and roll my hips up. My eyes roll back because it feels that fucking good. “This is— I’ve been losing my mind for three weeks just thinking about this, and now—” I stop talking to grit my teeth and breathe.
I edge him like that. Stop the pumping. Wait. Pump again. I feel him fighting the urge to twitch and chase the friction. He barely wins.
Good. I don’t want his reaction. I don’t need it.
What I need is the dead weight. I need the blank doll-eyed stare, and the fact that he’s just a piece of meat I get to use in my truck. That’s the shit that has my brain absolutely fried. That’s always been the part.
I pry his jaw open again. Drag up more spit from the back of my throat. Tilt him back. And drop it straight in.
I watch him swallow when it pools in the back of his mouth, completely passive. I slam my fingers back in immediately—deep past the hump of his tongue, right back into the tight grip of his gag reflex.
“That’s it,” I murmur, pumping my fingers while his throat convulses around them. “That’s the nastiest thing I’ve ever done, and I want to keep doing it. I’m completely fucked in the head for you, doll.” I drag them out dripping with thick throat-spit, and slather every drop of it onto my cock.
I line it up with his hole, lock both hands onto his hips—fingers digging in hard, because I want marks—and I drag his weight down onto my dick.
Oh, fuck!
Holy fuck, it feels incredible!
I lean all the way back in my seat, head dropping, and just feel it. The scalding heat, the violent clench, the virgin-tight squeeze. I strangle the headrest with one hand and crush his hip with the other, fighting for my life not to bust in three seconds.
I’m not joking when I say that’s a hard task.
“Holy—” I can’t even finish the sentence.
I roll my hips up, just a shallow grind to test exactly how tight it is, and my jaw drops open.
“You feel like— Fuck—” I roll my head back and laugh at the ceiling, totally delirious.
“Three weeks of going out of my mind, and this sweet little cunt has been right down the hall. Free to use.”
I have never looked at a dude like this. This is not something I think about. This is not my thing. I have a girlfriend and a type, and none of it has anything to do with what I’m currently doing.
And yet, my hips keep driving forward, my cock buried deep inside his tight ass. Every time I bottom out, a filthy groan rips out of my throat and I can do nothing to stop it.
“So fucking tight,” I pant, feeling wrecked myself. “You’re gripping me so good, doll. I swear to God, I swear to God you’re—”
I get my mouth on his nipple and bite down mid-stroke. He clamps down on my dick instantly, and my hips stutter because the sensation almost takes me out. I suck hard, sloppy, messy about it, and feel his body just taking the abuse.
“Nastiest little bitch I know. Pushing a cart in the grocery store, looking like a normal bro—all while having this slutty hole between your legs.” I hammer up into him and have to throw my head back against the seat again.
“Fuck! Fuck! Feel how deep my fat cock is, doll? Feel my log splitting your cunt? You make me so fucking hard—!”
I shove three fingers back down his throat just to steal more spit.
I want to ruin him.
There is something genuinely psychotic about how much I love the filth of this. How I love to see spit on his chin, marks on his throat, and his sweatpants bunched at his thighs because I couldn’t even be bothered to strip my toy before I started using it.
I drag my fingers out, watching the strings break, and slather the mess all over his chest, rubbing it into the bite marks. Just because I want to.
“You’re so fucking nasty, doll,” I say, and I mean it like a compliment.
I mean it like the best thing I know how to say.
“You love this sick shit, don’t you? You don’t have to do shit, just sit there and be my personal fuck-sleeve.
” I roll my hips in a deep grind, and my voice drops to nothing. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good—”
I grab the back of his neck, shove his face into my shoulder, and stop holding back.
No more pretending to be measured about it.
I start pounding him. Fast, deep, heavy strokes that have the suspension on the truck rocking.
I’m loud about it too, because I can’t stop myself—animal grunts, filthy talk, and just a constant chant of fuck.
I get a hand between us, and grip his nipple again.
I love to pinch them hard and hear no sound coming from his mouth—instead, he clenches his hole real good.
I feel his hand grip my thigh, bracing himself.
“Don’t fucking move,” I say into his hair. “You sit right there and you take it, doll. Toys don’t move. Toys don’t make noise. You don’t get to do anything except sit on my cock and be good for me.”
I slam up into him again. His hole’s so wrecked it just swallows me whole with no resistance anymore. It’s crazy how much better it feels when there’s no resistance. When he’s just loose and unresponsive.
“And you’re taking it so good, doll. Best fucking hole I’ve ever—better than any pussy.”
I grab his hair and yank his head back.
Fuck.
That doll-eyed stare. Glassy. Unfocused.
Like he’s passed out.
Like he’s dead.
I almost fucking blow. My cock’s throbbing so bad I can feel my heartbeat in the tip, my balls so tight they’re practically climbing up inside me. I have to stop moving just to keep from unloading.
Fuck, that’s dark. That’s so fucking dark. I shouldn’t be into this. I shouldn’t be getting off on this.
But I am.
I’m so fucking into it.
Fuck, maybe I’ll have to unpack it.
But yeah, not now. Right now, all I can feel is the heat of his hole around my cock, the weight of his limp body on my thighs and the way his head lolls back like his neck’s broken.
I slam into him again. His body jerks with the impact.
Good doll.
I get my thumb on his lip, pull his mouth open, and let drool drip from my mouth into his for the third time tonight just because I want to and I can. Just because he takes it, swallowing my spit without a flicker of reaction. The pure degradation of it has me right on the fucking brink.
“Gonna fill you up,” I pant, crushing my cheek against his. “Gonna flood that pretty little cunt. And then you’re gonna sit in the driver’s seat the whole ride home with my load leaking out of you. You hear me? Every bump we hit, you’re gonna feel my cum inside you.”
I stop hammering and roll my hips in a tight circle, feeling his wall convulse.
“Fuck yeah,” I hiss. “Yeah, right there—do that again—such a good slut—”
He doesn’t do it again.
So I do it for him. Same angle, same slow grind. Feel him massaging my cock again.
“There it is. There’s my good doll. Just like that. Stay still and let me destroy you—”
The groan I let out when I finally bust is loud enough that my brain screams “parking lot” while my dick screams “don’t care.”
“Fuck—shit—fuck!” I’m shaking, my fingers digging into him so hard I feel my nails sink in. I pull him down tight against me, burying myself to the hilt, and feel the boiling heat of my cum flood his ass.
He stays perfectly still while I empty my balls inside him.
It’s a massive fucking load.
I lean back in my seat with my hands going slack on his hips, and stare at the fogged-up windshield, trying to remember what my name is.
“Damn,” I breathe into the quiet truck.
His cock is still trapped between us, rock-solid and leaking heavy drops of pre-cum onto my stomach. He didn’t come. He didn’t manage to blow his load just from taking my dick in his pussy, which means he hasn’t earned a release. Toys are built for use, not for getting off.
The sight of his desperate, denied meat makes the whole setup even hotter.
He looks exactly like what he is.
A beautiful, ruined fuck-doll.
Yeah, he’s beautiful. And admitting my bro is beautiful is another thought going straight into the ‘never think about this again’ vault.
“Alright,” I say eventually, trying to sound like we just wrapped up a gym session and not the dirtiest, best fuck I’ve had in years.
I pull out, grab his sweats, and haul them up over his creampied, leaking ass.
When I reach to fix his front, I have to wrestle his dick down into his boxers.
His throbbing piece of meat is purple and desperate, begging for a release he isn’t getting today.
I shove it away, tie his drawstrings for him, and then deal with my own shit.
I tuck away my softening cock. Wipe a hand over my face. Watch him wake up.
“You’re still driving, by the way.”