"I'll Use Your Holes," The Ad Said

Silence also prevailed during the ride to his place. She knew what it was like to feel a stranger's fingers exploring her underwear in the backseat; on more than one occasion had assertive hands pulled down on her cleavage to expose her sizeable tits, perhaps a non-cash gratuity for the driver. She often made herself come thinking back to the time that she sat in the middle of the backseat and two separate sets of hands held her spread, fondling her into a surprise orgasm in motion. But this time, there were no hands roaming on her, there were no eyes undressing her -- which made it feel even more ridiculous to be so aroused.

But was he? Her discreet glances in the darkness couldn't make out a bulge growing between his legs. In physical closeness, she could only perceive his scent mixed into his cologne -- the steadiness of a figure larger than hers respectfully sitting next to her while his large hand held her in place.

She was almost relieved to find the discreet but unmistakable signs of a bachelor pad upon arrival. Who would have thought that an X Box, two unopened retail packages, and a decor-free living room would be so reassuring? Further relief came when he refused to engage in small talk or in the empty ritual of offering more wine as a pretext to begin making out on the couch devoid of decorative cushions and throw blankets.

Once the door was closed and the lights were on, but before he offered her a seat, she found herself standing in the middle of the room and realizing she was on display. A bit of an unlikely mise-en-scène: a classically dressed porcelain doll standing in the middle of a clean but after-thought living room, circled by the most polite of predators to grace the cum-covered corners of online personals pages. He had not yet touched her again, but he was slowly circling her, overtly taking in her curves as he paced.

"Why did you message me," he asked, finally able to open the line of inquisition that needed a quieter venue.

"Because you and I were looking for the same thing, weren't we?"

"And what is that thing?"

She smiled at him, the burn between her legs growing when she understood where it was all headed.

"I want you to say it," he reiterated, his figure stopping behind and a few inches above hers as his hands found the zipper on the back of her dress.

Again, she was no brat, she was not willfully challenging authority. Her mind was momentarily scrambled in the surge of arousal and anticipation when his fingers dragged down the zipper, somehow finding a way to run his knuckle down her flesh. Could he see it? Did he realize how much effort she had put into dressing for him, into getting her body ready for fun of the hole-wrecking kind?

"Say it," he asked one last time, his lips in her ear.

"I've been so horny and I need you to wreck my holes."

"Good girl," he approved, his hands swiftly pushing the open dress off her shoulders, though withdrawing when he stepped back to better enjoy the grand reveal of the curves hiding underneath all the fabric. She knew his quiet gasp was not necessarily in response to her figure, but rather in surprise at her meticulous lingerie -- the stilettos, the delicate stockings, the straps that were digging into her full behind.

"My goodness... Are you sure you want me to wreck your holes? You're dressed as if you wanted me to make sweet love to you," he said, his hands returning to her body -- this time toying with the intersections between the garter and the thong and her flesh. This ignited no flinches in her, no feigned innocence -- as he had already exposed, she was an expert, and she loved becoming an instant plaything.

"You're the one who started out the evening at a place where people go to eavesdrop on marriage proposals," she chuckled, her head tilting back as she leaned her body back against his, as if asking for his hands to explore further. Right on cue, he circled her gorgeous tits, he traveled down to the front of her thong, and he bit his lip when he felt the full pussy lips that hid soft and hairless underneath.

"I guess I had a feeling that you were going to make it worth my while," he confessed, his fingers parting the damp pussy lips. She sighed, her eyes closing, enjoying every second of attention he gave her body. Her legs parted and she moaned, asking for more -- so she was startled when his hand lifted her head off his shoulder, and motioned her body to turn around in front of his.

"Show me how badly you want me to wreck your holes."

She wasted no time, dropping herself to her knees in his living room, her eyes fixated on his as she unbuttoned his pants with obvious skill. An ample smile took over her lips when she realized that he was a size queen's fantasy, the zipper halfway down. She was always appreciative of the ultimate challenge for a cumslut that loves to show off how long her nose can caress her counterpart's pubes.

She let his slacks and boxers fall to the ground, delegating the logistics of getting his shirt out of the way of her mouth to him. His ask had been simple: to show him how badly she wanted him to wreck her holes. So there was no point in easing softly into a blowjob, a coy beginning that gifted him a sweet and nice experience of being in her mouth. She displayed her tongue to him and began to move in, feeling his head travel the length of her flesh, and she kept pushing on her own well past her gag reflex. Her tongue didn't waver when her own resistance arose, letting the tip wiggle against the base of his cock before she pulled out.

Deep recovery breath, a momentary admiration of the way he bit his lip.

"I want you to wreck my holes," she smiled before repeating the motion, an outstretched tongue gliding against the underside of his cock well past a decent stopping point -- a challenged face, restricted teeth, and the most disciplined embrace of her throat before letting him go again as she gasped for air.

"Fucking hell," he grunted, his large hand finding her hair after her second movement. He was ready to wreck her hole, as she so wanted it. "Hands behind your back."

Her tongue went on display again but this time he was the one guiding the path of contact, his glistening head no longer caressing but rather dragging against each of the taste buds on her tongue, forcing her mouth open in an uncomfortable angle that moved him deeper than he had been the first two times. With this motion, her gag reflex was awakened and she jerked against his legs, her throat struggling to accommodate his girth. When his member touched the very back he desired, he let her go, and she pulled back immediately.

His hand found her again, as did almost the entirety of his cock. The poor little cocksucker was quickly getting more than she had bargained for, now with tears pooling in her beautiful eyes and her body beginning to show signs of resistance. Her stance straightened, as if trying to outpower him to create a gap for air in her throat. On the fifth stroke, he held her face down long enough to feel the tight embrace of two consecutive gags, her vision blurring as the illusion of control began to escape her. Her hands remained remarkably obedient behind her back, with no external restraints -- held in place only by the discipline of her sudden submission.

Two more deep strokes, facilitated by the strong grip in her hair and her deep desire to have her holes wrecked, finally challenged the long-wearing capabilities of her lipstick, making a mess on his pubes and down her chin. As her mascara ran and her red lip traveled, he held her face an inch away from his cock, watching the mess drip down to the delicate fabric that did little to hide her aroused nipples. She gasped repeatedly, the spectacle of spit and precum glistening against her as her chest rose and fell in the break he was granting her.

"Say it, baby girl, I love hearing you say it," he taunted her, a firm slapping hand rubbing in his cock juices into her messed-up cheek.

"Wreck my throat, please" she begged again, almost hoarse, her mouth open and her tongue once again hanging as she offered herself one more time. A beautiful sight ready to be corrupted. He gave into the rare, no-holds-barred rough oral that few cumsluts commit to give, using both hands to hold her head in place against the harsh thrusts of his hips, fucking her throat up to five times in a row before pulling back.

At times, he slowed down, not in clemency but rather as if wanting to watch her suffer. He had to tighten his grip in her hair to stop her when she tried to make up for his halted movements, her hungry instincts getting the best of her. She beg-whimpered as his cock parted her mouth slowly, his eyes enjoying the visual flow of precum and saliva leaving her mouth as much as the desperation in her eyes. But her patience would be rewarded with deeper thrusts, sending her into the perfect state of cumslut mindfulness that she could only reach through a mix of air deprivation, profound throat discomfort, and complete loss of control.

When he stopped holding back and resumed the rough fucking of her mouth while lengthening the periods he would spend down her throat, her arms trembled away from their restrained position and started to push against his thighs, her survival instinct battling with her thirst for a painfully deep throatpie. His harshness toned down on the face of this resistance, but not enough to let her go with impunity. She had asked him to wreck her throat, and so he did, forcing himself down past her gag reflex over and over, depriving her of air and agency until her body collapsed against his crotch.

When her eyes lost focus and her hands moved, defeated, to the warm spot under her thong, he knew it was time to finish wrecking her first hole.

He held her down, grunting loud, and rewarding her obedience with the deepest throatpie she had ever experienced. His orgasm was so intense that he spurt one more rope of cum on her lip and nose on his way out.

It had been such an intense experience that his orgasm left her out of it, blissful in cumslut heaven. If he had taken out his phone to record her broken face, forcing her to say her full name and address as he smeared in his cum and her tears after the most violent throat-fucking, she would have let him. She was that cock-drunk.

She came back to her senses mid-air, hanging off his shoulder, just as she was about to get thrown onto his bed, landing on her belly over the edge. Her face rubbed against his comforter as he moved behind her, spreading her legs with his and pulling her arms back. When he wouldn't let go and used a long piece of fabric to restrain her wrists right above her ass, she found herself begging again.

"Please wreck my holes, I really need it, I really do..."

The anticipation was making her womb burn, and it felt as if he were taking his sweet time binding her wrists together, pushing three different pillows under her hips, slowly peeling off the tiny thong while diving in to take in the sweet smell of her arousal. His tongue set out to lick every drop of it, to erase every sign of her prior arousal to keep it to himself, his hands holding her spread against his face.

A series of well-timed nibbles and licks around the hood of her clit had her moaning, and he knew her orgasm was a matter of time. He pushed two fingers into her pussy and cursed when her overstimulated flesh squeezed around him. After the dozen orgasms she had given herself earlier, her insides were primed for deep pleasure, and she had finally found someone who was willing to use that to his advantage. Her labia were engorged, sensitive, and her body squirmed against his stimulation. Big hands held her down, spread, available, when her legs did her best to end the overstimulation for her. Inevitably, her first joint orgasm happened around his fingers when he began to push his way in harshly, but his stimulation did not stop.

For her, it felt as if his prodding fingers and curious tongue spent hours exploring her holes, holding them open, stretched, pressing hard to see how much she could take in her ass as he bit once on her clit. If she whimpered or cried because it was all too much, she did not make a dramatic show of it, because ultimately the dominant sensation was the hunger in her womb for ultimate satisfaction. Their persistence meant her pleasure came in waves that sometimes crashed against him, leaving her in orgasms of varying strengths, and it sometimes turned into pain from overly sensitized flesh too harshly grazed by repetitive motion that never gave her a break.

When her orgasms became more spaced, he took a break, leaving her tired figure still spread on her belly on top of pillows. She thought he would return to fuck her with his cock instead, her holes growing too sensitive to his fingers, but instead he pressed the cold head of a vibrating wand against her clit. Her back jerked defensively.

"Please, I can't, it's been too much..."

He cut her off by turning on the wand and leaning in to cover her mouth with his hand. Despite her vocal protests and the jerks of her body under his, her legs spread further, welcoming the overwhelming sensation of the wand forcing electric shocks from her clit all over her pelvic floor. When her sounds subsided, his hand moved to her curves again, letting his finger make its way into her ass.

"Hearing you say that makes it hard for me to hold back," he reminded her, well aware of the way her insides tightened progressively with each orgasm, and of how each build up took longer than the last one with every climax point she reached. He was reassured by the way, no matter her cries and begs and whimpers, her legs stayed open for him, her hips hungrily moved back to him whenever he withdrew.

"Have you ever had two cocks inside you at the same time?"

"Ye-yeah," she responded, barely cogent in the middle of such intense sensations.

"Well, you did look like a very demure, pretty slut. You've had more than that, haven't you?"

"Yeah!" she screamed, her body focusing on the pressure building around his finger and against the wand.

He hissed, letting his cock enter her pussy, wand pressed firmly against her clit. She came around him near instantly, as if he had been edging her all night, but his thick girth and rhythm seemed unaffected by the earthquakes that enveloped him from the minute he entered her.

"I do love a whore with an appreciation for being airtight."

His left hand left her ass and traveled to rest around her throat instead, progressively moving upwards onto her chin and her lips until she had no option but to open her mouth for him. She licked herself off his fingers as he fucked her pussy, and soon it was rather his hand occupying her mouth, forcing her jaw open. "Good girl," he whispered when she remained in place to get pounded by his cock and violated by his hand. He made her gag before it was time for another break.

In any other coupling, this would have been a pathetic sight -- a beautifully dressed young vixen, overused and overstimulated to the point of visible damage on a stranger's bed, all because she really needed a lasting orgasm. The engorged redness of her vulva, the growing number of pressure marks near her garter, on her hips, her trembling hands bound together -- it was all a picture rendered ridiculous by the fact that she made no effort to move away. She kept her legs spread throughout the break, her hips grinding weakly as if begging him to take her again, harder. Lucky for her, she had found the ideal stranger for this endeavor: someone as deeply invested in the idea of wrecking her holes tonight, without regard for much else.

"Oh baby, you did yourself bad tonight... I can already tell your little pussy is going to be sore," he said, withdrawing from her again. Her body simultaneously enjoyed the reprieve from the nonstop stimulation and mourned the sudden sensation of being on her own before her body reached full satisfaction. Desperate, her tied hands moved down to her ass, trying to spread her own labia as if needing to make herself come one more time. She was already a pitiful sight, and he demeaned her further by sliding a small cock-shaped dildo into her mouth.

The toy would serve as a gag of sorts when he squirted cold lube on her entrance. By now irritated, she moan-screamed against the toy, feeling the burn of the necessary lube, her body moving forward by impulse, as if trying to escape the pain. He lowered himself onto her again, trapping her, rubbing the lube into her overused vulva with his fingers -- fast and assertive at first, holding her lips open to enter her again.

When self-preservation would kick in for most others, her hunger won. She knew she was so close to satisfaction and she had to prevail. 'Fuck,' he whispered when she started lightly bouncing her hips against his after squirming in pain, the sluttiest begging his cock had ever received. 'You really did want your little holes to be wrecked.'

It felt that, if there had been any restraint left in him, it was out the window the minute the beautiful Reddit freak dangled herself in front of him, a prize to be cherished properly. She wanted her holes very well broken in. His hard pounds in her irritated pussy had no consideration other than moving in the angles and speeds that most tightened her around him, the grip unlike anything he experienced before.

That's the thing. Maybe it wasn't so much that the hole-wrecking itself was a fetish, something they always sought out in rough porn. It wasn't the reddened genitals or painful screams that pushed them over the edge. They both just knew that the harder she came and the more he shoved himself into her, the tighter her pussy would be around him, a delicious human fleshlight cumdumpster he could use without worrying about skin tears and protests when his salty seed coated her lacerated skin. For her, the same progressive increase in internal pressure would ultimately bring her to the big O, the capitulation of her insides. She would no longer feel need if her pelvic floor emerged numb from the most intense of sessions.

He had done well resisting the perfect bitch in heat that squirmed against his cock and against his toys the past hour, but he knew there was only so much longer his cock would last before an irreversible explosion. Her now permanent whimpers, the ways her luscious lingerie clung from her sweaty body, told him she was close to finally reaching a point of no return. The perfect win-win. That was the point when he pushed the dildo back down her throat, and then pushed two fingers into her ass. The order was important to muffle her screams.

Her judgment clouded, and her perception hyper-focused on the fullness of her holes. It was soothing intensity, because it let her know that it was going to happen, finally. He was going to give her the release she needed, a memorably successful Friday night fuck. Her body drooped on the bed with barely any give left in her, her hands still restrained, accepting every pound and every ass slap and every rough grasp of her body as an overwhelming gift of pleasure. It would all earn her the perfect explosion, the ultimate relaxation. It was all going to be worth the burning sensation in her pussy, the marks that she'd carry on her body for days, the makeup she'd have to wear on her neck to hide her hobbies from perceptive coworkers at the office.

Except there was an unexpected break at the worst possible time. She felt his sudden withdrawal, again, and she started crying. The immediacy of such an overblown reaction reflected her proximity to the elusive summit, and her disappointment was cut short by the sensation of a sharp knife traveling between her arms, cutting through the fabric that kept her wrists together. What a jolted awakening in a few terrifying seconds. Disoriented, she was barely able to move her eyes to his glistening body when he dragged her onto her back, spread on the bed.