Jeet - An OFS Story Pt. 02

"My vulva and my asscrack are still greasy from lubricant."

PART 2: JEET'S COCK

Okay, Jeet. My pussy needs filling.

Fuck me with your cock. Stick your fist in there. Drive a damn truck through me. I don't care, just give me something.

As if on cue, I feel him dragging me backwards.

He lays me out on the bed, my legs dangling over the edge. He taps the inner edges of my knees. Dutifully, I spread them.

The weight of my ass is on the buttplug. It's impossible to forget about it.

He purses the fingers and thumb of one hand, a parody of the "al bacio" hand gesture, and covers his entire hand in lube.

I am so ready.

His hand, still in the al bacio position, probes my vulva. His fingertips squeeze in between my labia. They expand easily to accommodate him, until he gets to the last knuckles.

As soon as I feel myself starting to resist him, he stops. He doesn't withdraw-we both sit with it for a minute, my pussy squeezing his hand in a death grip.

Then he fucks me, gently, not really pulling out or pushing in. It's a pulsating, rhythmic pressure.

I feel warm inside, excited.

And wet. Really fucking wet.

Periodically, his hand goes in a little more.

Before we know it, he's in past the knuckles.

Time feels slow, everything has gone sort of soft.

I feel his fist moving in me, I feel the fullness of the buttplug in me. The molecules in the air are an excitement on my skin, teasing the tips of the tiny hairs all over my body.

It's not even that I'm coming. Though, soon, I just might be.

Every pinch, every squeeze, every orifice filled, creates a warm, drowsy little world that exists just for me.

Somewhere above me, in the distance of my comprehension, Jeet's face watches his own hand fucking in and out of me up to the wrist with a look of rapt fascination, his gaping mouth forming silent nonsense.

He fucks me for a minute or 15 minutes or an hour, I don't know, before I feel him withdraw.

My pussy, saturated with lube both natural and artificial, releases him easily. I can feel myself gaping wide.

It's a blur. He's telling me to put my ass up again. I'm doing it. He's pulling the buttplug out. I feel like I'm shitting again. The smell of my pussy and my ass is filling my brain up.

I don't think my sphincter resisted him at all.

Nor does it resist the third buttplug, the biggest, as Jeet slides it smoothly inside me. I practically envelop it, a wave of muscular, puckered flesh flowing over the cool metal and pulling it in.

Somewhere out in space, I hear his reverberating voice.

"I'm going to fuck you now."

I must have said something in response. I hear him say, "No talking. Just be quiet and take my cock."

From behind, he mounts me. His weight is upon me, the sensation making me feel cradled and secure.

The head of his thick silicone cock parts my pussy lips.

My vagina admits him-not exactly easily.

But it doesn't resist.

The pressure is incredible. Between the hugeness of the cock and the heavy fatness of the buttplug, I feel like I'm being crushed from the inside.

"Are you hurt?" I hear him ask.

I think I say no.

"Do you need to stop?"

Again, no.

"Then stop crying," he says.

I realize, as I feel him sliding further inside me, that I am weeping. I try to wipe my eyes with my fingers without taking my weight off my elbows. I only sort of succeed.

He's fucking me now. I can tell he's not all the way in-maybe halfway in-but I trust that he knows best.

And besides, I think, envisioning him standing there with that monster cock looming over me, this thing is big enough to really

Hurt me.

He's gripping me by the hips, digging his fingertips into the fleshy padding. He squeezes as hard as I'd dare to be squeezed.

I'm so warm. Up to my hairline, down to my toes, I'm suffused with a radiant, fizzy feeling inside, emanating from the massive objects inside my body.

I'm coming.

I've been coming. It's a slow, steady burn. I'm not sure how long.

He speaks obscene words to me, all of them just sort of hanging in the air and running together into an indistinct gibberish in my ears.

Somewhere in the mix, I think I hear "fuck slut." Or "little whore." "Pass-around bitch."

I think I'm crying out, but I'm not sure.

My hips buck and yaw, unbidden. They don't get far under his weight; he holds me down.

He smacks my ass-whap whap whap whap whap-stinging me, jiggling me, melding with the pleasure that surrounds me and fills me up.

Fuck slut.

The cock is out of me. His weight is off me. I feel cold air on my yawning vagina.

Cum-hungry little whore.

The cock jabs my cheek. Gratefully, I turn my head, put my mouth on it, greedily fellate the head of a silicone cock that tastes and smells like lube and my own juices.

Pass-around bitch.

I'm still coming. I can't think. I can only feel the blooming heat, the soaking sweat.

He's tugging on the buttplug, pulling at my asshole, a rhythm that pulses inside my ass.

Then, slowly, torturously, he pulls it out of me. Wet sucking sound, warm smell of ass in the air. My bereft pussy and anus yawning to the world as I start to come down from the peaks of my roiling orgasm.

An amount of time passes.

When I come to, he's already zipped up, and he's loading used toys into the flip-top canister next to the bed. I'm splayed out, half-fetal, on covers damp with sweat. The air is thick with body smells.

He's over me, leans over, whispers quietly. "Do you need anything?"

"No," I hear myself saying, a little bit delirious. "I'd like to be alone now."

He nods, a shadow in the periphery of my vision.

I think I dozed off. At some point, I realize he's gone.

I lie there, unmoving, deeply in stupor.

All over, I ache dully, my entire middle third feeling wrung out and thrumming dully. My vulva and my asscrack are still greasy from lubricant.

I feel good. So incredibly good. It's like being drunk, but knowing that the next morning will bring restfulness and no hangover.

I wake up, greasy and sore, the covers not yet dry. The air is rich with the smell of my insides. Sun trickles in through the open curtains. It draws golden shapes on my naked brown skin.

I strip out of my garter belt and stockings and hobble into the bathroom.

Normally, I masturbate in the shower. Today, I try. But I'm still too high and sensitive. After a couple halfway-to-orgasms, I decide to give my bruised and tender pussy a break.

I wash off the smell of sex and the clinging lube. I towel off and walk gingerly back to the bedroom.

As I get dressed to work, I think to myself:

Maybe I'll stand while I lecture today.

~THE END~