Can You Fuck As Good As You Text?

There are men who text a big game, but disappoint in person, and then there are men whose words, no matter how skilled, do not do him justice. He is the latter.

I arrive at the restaurant ten minutes late. He is already seated, an old fashioned in front of him and one waiting for me. As I sit down, I begin to make my apologies, but he cuts me off, “I’ll let it go this time Little One, but from now on, for every minute you are late, you will get ten spankings. Do you understand?” My pussy tightens at the thought and like any good brat, I am already wondering just how late I want to be for the next meeting. But something about the intensity in his eyes makes me want to obey, to be on time, to do everything he asks of me.

We had met briefly many years ago, and when I saw him more recently on a dating site, I couldn’t help but give a cheeky hello to see if he’d remember me. I had hoped, but didn’t expect. It’s not like we had interacted with each other much before. I didn’t remember him being this hot, this dominant—his vanilla persona is convincing.

The small talk is perfunctory. The drinks for show. We both know what we really want. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says, taking his last sip of bourbon. “We’re going to walk out of here to my car and I’m going to take you back to my apartment, and I am going to fuck you like the good little slut you are.”

I smirk, take the last sip of my drink, “We’ll see if you can fuck as good as you talk.” 

He pays for our drinks, we put on our coats, and he leads me out of the restaurant. Not two steps out the door his hand is around the back of my neck, fingers pressing in at the sides, a tease of his power. My chest gets tight, my heart rate picks up, I can feel my pussy get wetter. 

“When we get to my car, you’re going to get in and undo those jeans and give me access to that cunt of yours.” 

“Yes sir,” I breathe out, the energy of authority emanating from him disarms me, disappearing any remaining sassy thoughts left in my mind. The time for disobedience is over, his energy demands submission, and to a man like this, I am more than happy to give it. I am a good little slut, just as he said.

Women always talk about how hot it is when a man backs up his vehicle one handed, but no one talks enough about how hot it is when that second hand is on your clit instead of the passenger headrest. “So fucking wet already,” he smirks at me, like a cat with a bird in its mouth, knowing it’s going to have fun toying with its prey before it goes for the kill. Already I can’t think straight. I cum for the first time as he exits the parking lot. 

In the 10 minute drive to his house, I cum five more times. My pussy throbs with pleasure and a need to be filled. As he drives up to his apartment complex he shoves his fingers, wet with my pussy, into my mouth. I taste like lightly sugared water with the faintest hint of copper at the back of the tongue. 

“Every drop,” he tells me. Greedily, I like his fingers clean. “Good girl,” he says as he clicks the button on the remote for the underground parkade, “Once I’ve parked, you’re going to pull down your pants, and bend over the passenger seat for me. I’m not waiting to get upstairs to get a feel for that pussy.” I think he must be bluffing, there’s no way he would fuck me with all the cameras surely hooked up in a building this new. He’s too controlled, too careful for that. 

I am wrong. He parks, stalks around to the passenger side of the car and opens the door. Measured. Controlled. But hungry—so fucking hungry. I swing my legs around and drop myself to the ground facing him, still not believing this is about to happen.  

“I said, bend over Little One,” as he flips me over, pulls my jeans down past my ass and bends me over the seat. My mind is reeling with disbelief, with need, with the thrill of my bare ass possibly visible to the cameras. The last vestige of my self-control shatters as he slides his cock inside me with a groan. My breath catches. He’s fucking big. Good big. The kind of big that fills you. 

The length of him slides in with ease, despite his size—I am so incredibly wet. Agonizingly slow, he pulls his cock out, then pushes it back in again. Each time he enters me, I let out a little gasp, and every time he pulls out I moan at the emptiness I feel. I need to be filled, I need his cock in me. It is beyond want now, beyond mere desire. I need to be fucked as badly as I need air. 

But he really does only want a taste—after a few thrusts, he pulls out and pulls my pants back up before zipping his own. “Let's go,” he says, voice thick with need now. I follow him mindlessly, my mind focused solely on the pulsing between my thighs and the need to be filled by him again.

Upstairs, barely in the door of his apartment, his mouth is on mine. Rough but good. His hand is in my hair and he pulls my head back, hard. His mouth is on my neck, biting, kissing. My brain is quickly melting into nothingness. “I noticed your plug wasn’t in your ass,” he says, lips against my ear, “where is it?” “In my purse,” I whisper back. “Go get it for me. From now on, you come to me with it in. You come ready for me, do you understand?” “Yes sir,” I respond as I retrieve the plug. A pretty rose gold with a jewel on the base. “Take off your pants and get on your knees,” he orders, “face down, ass up.” I do as I am told. 

Head on the floor, I hear him walk away, and I wait there for him, in his foyer, knowing that is exactly what he expects of me. He comes back with a bottle of lube, which he uses to coat my plug. Gently, more gently than I thought a man of his build and demeanor is capable, he coaxes the plug into my asshole. It’s refreshingly, shockingly cold—my breath catches. But it feels good.

I like the pressure of the plug in my ass, the way he slides it in and out, gently stretching me, relaxing me. Before I can get distracted by my bliss his hand comes down on my ass cheek and I gasp from the surprise I can tell from the sound he makes that my response satisfies him. 

“Time for the bedroom Little One,” and as I push myself up to stand, he stops me. “Crawl,” he commands, then turns heel and walks down the hall. On hands and knees, I follow him. 

When I get to the bedroom he helps me to my feet. He grabs me firmly by the chin, tilts my head up so our eyes are locked, “yellow means pause, red means stop, if you can’t speak, tap me three times and I’ll stop, do you understand?” “Yes,” I say. “Yes, what?” “Yes, sir.” He kisses me again, even rougher than before and I moan. He undressed as I was crawling to him and his body radiates heat, his muscles firm under my fingers. Fuck he feels good. I bite into his neck and he lets out a soft growl. Oh, this is going to be everything I need. 

Both of us naked, he instructs me to my knees. I fucking love giving head. Hands gripping his thighs, I lick his hard cock from shaft to tip before taking him into my mouth. Tongue massaging his cock, I slowly start working more and more of him into my mouth. But he’s eager, grabs the back of my head and starts thrusting himself into me. I gag a little and pull back a moment to catch my breath. I spit on my hand and stroke his cock, eyes watering, I look up at him. 

“Try again,” he commands.

“Oh I’ll fucking get it down, just let me,” I tell him, irritated that he’s given instructions for something I was going to do anyways. Annoyed I hadn’t succeeded on the first try—always the high-achiever, the perfectionist. 

I wrap my lips back around his cock, my mouth now coated with saliva, he glides smoothly deeper and deeper, his tip hitting the back of my throat. Relax I command myself as I push his cock deeper, taking all of him in. 

“Good fucking girl,” he moans, hands in my hair. I swell with pride. And I want more, I want to earn his praise. He starts thrusting again, but this time I manage to take him. Like a game of wills, he’s seeing how much I can take and I am doing my best to take every inch. Finally, I gag. “Such a good fucking throat goat,” he says as he lifts me up from the ground and tosses me onto the bed. 

His head is between my thighs, tongue on my clit. My eyes roll, back arches, fingers slide through his hair. This is what I live for. My orgasm comes quickly. And then I’m rolling. Another, another. He slides a couple fingers inside my pussy, starts stroking my g-spot as his tongue flicks over my clit. My eyes shoot open, “holy fuck!” He’s so fucking good. He gives a satisfied laugh into my pussy. “I’m going to fucking squirt if you keep doing that,” I warn him. He keeps going. Fingers stroking inside me, tongue massaging my clit, I can feel the pressure building inside me. “I’m going to fucking squirt,” I say again, in case he didn’t hear me, in case he wants to move, but he stays, drinks me as I cum. He keeps licking, keeps fingering me, forcing me to squirt again. It’s almost too much. Almost. I could happily die like this. 

Suddenly he pushes himself back and up onto his knees, grabs me and flips me over, pulls my hips back so I’m on all fours. His hand comes down hard on my ass cheek. Left side, then right. The sudden shock of pain grounds me, brings me back down from the high of multiple orgasms. Brings me back to him, this moment. His hand comes down again. Fuck it feels good. Again. Left cheek. Right cheek. Ten times he smacks my ass hard, “that was ten Little One, one for every minute you were late today.” 

I turn my head and look back at him, “is that all you’ve got?” Why? Why would I say that? His hand connects hard with my right ass cheek, harder than before. “I’m just warming up,” he says, as he brings his hand down again. We’re back into this game of seeing who can out last whom. I count six more, before he stops. My ass is stinging and I cannot wait to see the bruises tomorrow. To send him a photo of his handiwork. 

His arms are suddenly around my waist and I am being flipped over, then dragged to the edge of the bed. My head is hanging over the side. I open my mouth, knowing what he wants, willing to be used as his toy, and his cock slides in. He fucks my throat again, the base of him coming to my lips with each stroke. He pulls out, lets me catch my breath, as he grabs my phone, “unlock it,” he commands, “you need to see how fucking good you look with my cock in your throat.” I punch my password into the screen, then lay my head back, and he resumes fucking my throat, filming us, filming me. He shoves his cock all the way down his throat and holds it there. Instinctively I want to struggle, fight for air, but I override my instincts. “Good fucking girl,” he growls, then pulls out, smacks my cheek affectionately and tosses the phone down on the carpet. 

As I am gasping for air, I suddenly feel his hands on my ankles, pulling me fully onto the bed, before climbing up. Wet with my spit, he pushes his cock into my still soaked pussy. “Holy fuck, you feel so fucking good.” I can hardly think straight anymore. I’ve been reduced to sensations of pleasure and pain. Mostly pleasure. My legs are up on his shoulders and he’s thrusting deeper into me. I can feel the orgasm building and apparently so can he. “That’s it, cum on my fucking cock.” And I do. My body shudders beneath him, my pussy clenching around him. He pulls out, flips me over again, manhandling me as if I am nothing. 

He pulls the plug out of my ass and tosses it to the side. His tongue is on me, in me. It’s been so fucking long since I’ve had someone fuck my ass and I’m eager for it now. I rock my hips back into him. 

“Keen little whore aren’t you?” He laughs at me, amused and aroused by my clear desire. I feel lube on my asshole, the contrasting coolness of it makes me buck and clench a little, but before I can fully register that sensation, his finger is in my ass, gently teasing me open. I moan, deep, from a place of longing now satisfied. His other hand smacks my ass and grabs hold of the flesh, his fingers biting into me. I feel him slide another finger in, but I want more. I know I need to be patient, his cock is huge and this is not something to rush. But I fucking want him. That’s all I can think. My singular focus. Another finger slides in, “fuck, you’re such a good fucking girl,” he chokes out. I can tell how bad he wants me from the thickness of his voice. “Give me your cock, please. Please I need you to fuck me,” I beg.

Laying on our sides, the tip of his cock is gently pressing into me and I’ve never wanted anything more than I want his cock in this moment. I’m desperate for it. He’s slow. Gentle. In control. Inch by agonisingly slow inch, he fills me. He’s so fucking big, I panic for a fleeting moment, tightening around him. 

“You’re doing so good,” he whispers into my ear, gentle now, talking me through it. He moves slowly, in and out of me, and I feel myself relax into the pleasure. His fingers are teasing my nipples. His lips on my neck, his teeth graze my skin. I reach around, and dig my fingers into the flesh of his hip, pulling him further into me and he growls. The sound of it is like an electric current of pleasure running through me. I can feel him wanting to let go, his pace is quickening, becoming more desperate. His need thrills me. I reach my hand down between my legs and begin rubbing my own clit. 

“That’s it, fucking cum for me,” he growls. His cock is thrusting quickly now. I’ve never cum from anal before, but holy fuck he feels so good, thrusting in and out of my me. My orgasm comes sudden and intense. I tremble in his arms and he holds himself, balls deep in my ass, as I ride the wave. “Fuck me till you cum,” I manage to whisper, “fucking fill me with your cum, please, I want it. I want your fucking cum in me.” He pushes himself away, getting the right angle and starts fucking my ass quickly, grunting from the effort. He growls as he cums and I am so, so pleased. 

Sliding gently out of my ass, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. “You were such a good girl,” he whispers, satisfied. “And you fuck as good as you text,” I whisper as I snuggle into his chest, my eyes fluttering closed.