It started out pretty normal enough. I had gone into the bathroom to get ready for bed, had squirted on my toothpaste and just put the brush in my mouth when he appeared behind me (from outta nowhere like some sort of ninja dom), snatched me by the hair and said “Come on. I’m going to use you.” I had time to toss my toothbrush into the sink and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand before being unceremoniously shoved under the desk.
Pretty standard fucking ensued.
(How’s that for hot smut writing, huh? Heh.)
The mancave where the desk is has just barely been unpacked. That’s HIS domain, his stuff. So I’ve stayed out. The only thing that is set up is the desk (no surprise there) and his porn computer.
What? Doesn’t every household have a designated porn computer? O.O
Anyway, so there’s boxes stacked here and there, but there’s nothing on the walls, no rugs on the floor, it’s just bare bare bare and rather echo-y.
So I’m down there getting pummeled from behind. Most of you ladies will feel me when I mention how doing it doggy style tends to push some air up there in the ol’ vagina. Ever since the hysterectomy, my vagina sucks in air like a fucking turbo deluxe Hoover when we’re doing it doggy. So much, sometimes, that it fills me up and I cramp and then when he thrusts in anyway, there’s pain.. oh so much pain… as the air is misplaced and I expand like a an overblown balloon and I whimper and moan and rock around a bit trying to create a vent somewhere.
And gee, doesn’t he just hate all that whimpering and moaning and rocking while he’s fucking me. ~eyeroll~
He’s pounding away and I started going dry, which is not a result of the surgery because contrary to other women losing their lubrication as a result of a hysterectomy, I became a gushing puddle of girl-goo from some unknown faucet of femininity that was tapped by my skillful surgeon. I’m usually so wet and gooey that he has to pull out and wipe some off if he wants to feel any friction at all… but not this time– primarily because the a/c vent was blowing right on my ass and drying me right the fuck up.
Now normally he could give two shits about my poor abraded labia as he fucks me dry. Normally he likes it. Normally he does it harder and faster so I can “feel it two days later when you wipe, whore”. (He’s such a romantic.) But this time it was pinching his poor precious penis so he stopped. Because awww.
“Suck me off, cunt.” Alright, fine, fine. I flicked off some dried girl-goo first because yuck and then took his pussy-flavored dick in my mouth and went to town.
I did mention I had been getting ready for bed, right? It was late. I was tired. Let’s wrap this show up, shall we? So I half-knelt, half-squatted there betwixt his legs, my bottom hovering an inch or two above the hardwood floor in the echo-y, empty room, bobbing up and down for all I’m worth.
(I’m giving her all she’s got, Captain!)
He’s getting close to coming, getting firmer in my mouth. There’s saliva running freely down his balls, his fist tangling in my hair, his hips thrusting up to meet my lips–
–and then he thrusts a little harder than I’m prepared for and I gag. A deep, from the bottom-of-my-belly gag and all that air that my vagina had hoovered up came rushing out of me and vibrated… VIBRATED… against the hardwood floor and echoed… ECHOED.. in the empty room.
And I stopped sucking.
I stopped moving.
…and then he giggled.
And then I giggled.
And then I snorted around his cock and queefed again.
And then he laughed.
And then I laughed.
And then he biffed me on the back of the head and told me to get back to sucking.
So, alls well that ends well (at least for him) but somethings gotta be done about my hoovering va-jay-jay.