I could sit watching him wank forever – as he lies on one sofa, injured hand trying to wring an impossible orgasm out of his twitching, eager cock. A brief recap of where we left off on Wednesday: I’m sitting wanking on one sofa in the living room, my partner is wanking on the other, but his hand is injured so he can’t get the grip required to come. The sight of him frustratedly rubbing at his cock is so hot I came too quickly, but I’m stroking my clit and hoping for more because I just love watching him like this…
He’s casting porn from his phone to the TV screen, so I can share in which images hit the mark for him and which he scrolls past quickly, I almost feel like a voyeur. If I shut down my brain I can pretend I am one: that he doesn’t see me sitting there, with spit-lubed fingers working my clit.
But his hand is injured and he won’t be able to jizz like this: he needs the release of a fuck, and it’s my job right now to provide it.
“Get up,” he tells me “and bend over the sofa.”
Our living room is laid out with a gap behind the sofa – because sometimes we want to fuck bent over it while we watch porn. Eyes fixed on the screen instead of each other, we rock back and forward to the same rhythm as the performers on the TV, and I twitch my cunt in time to the groans they make when they come.
But this time I’m not a part of it. This time, thanks to his injury, I am only there for one simple thing: to provide a warm, wet hole for him to fuck.
How do I know this?
When he’s bent me over the sofa, yanked my jeans and knickers off, he places one hand on the back of my head and pushes down until I’m buried in cushions.
“Sssssh,” he whispers as he slips his cock into the cunt I’ve spread wide for him. “Don’t make a sound.”
He knows it’s what I want – I’ve already explained to him the detail of the fantasy I have in which he uses me callously – a fantasy in which he has his own room to which he can summon me when he needs someone – or something – to dump his spunk inside. Telling me to ‘sssh’ is his way of saying ‘it’s OK – you can enjoy this. You don’t need to be anything other than still and silent right now.’
I am determined to make the most of it.
I bite my lip, grip the cushions of the sofa with trembling fingers, and clench my cunt so hard around him that it’s like I’m trying to push him out. Providing force for him to shove back against as he settles in to the rhythm of this fuck-that’s-closer-to-a-wank.
He balances his phone on my arched back, using one free hand to keep scrolling through the images. If I turn my head to one side I can see the reflection of his face in the mirror on the wall. He has that blankly horny stare that comes when he’s watching porn and pretending I’m not looking.
He fucks me hard and slow at first – testing the way my cunt feels around him, and scrolling through pictures to find a rich seam of porn to spark the first waves that will push him into coming. I’m there in front of him, legs spread and back arched so he can see my arse at the perfect angle. I’m biting my lip and shuddering at the hotness of everything that’s happening.
But to all intents and purposes, he is alone.
He is wanking.
He speeds up, and casually grabs a handful of my thigh to steady me and tip me up – angling me the way he would if I were a mounted Fleshlight. He is placing me, moulding me. Using me.
It’s hard not to speak, so at one point I do:
“This is the hottest fucking thing that…”
He cuts me off with another ‘ssssh’ and fucks harder – each stroke a punishment for bursting the bubble of this fantasy.
And he fucks harder into me so I can feel the head of his dick punching the back of my cunt. I bite my lip and try so hard not to groan with delight again.
If I lift my head slightly I can see the pictures on the screen – watch them scroll left as he dismisses each one. The seconds spent on each gives me an indication of what he’s in the mood for right now: images of fingers working busily at open, wet cunts or tits and nipples squeezed tight by hands with long nails.
And then if I turn my head I see him again in the mirror. I can watch his face as he urgently, vigorously, desperately pushes himself towards the orgasm he couldn’t achieve just through wanking.
Just before he comes he places both hands in the small of my back and pushes down. Angling me again so the folds of my cunt slide along the shaft of his dick just right… the muscles at the back squeezing in the perfect place on the head of his dick… the hole into which he pours his spunk capturing every drop, as he sighs with satisfaction at a job finally and thoroughly done.
When we’ve finished he wipes his dick on the knickers I left on the floor, and I collapse in a tangle of limbs on the carpet.