Rage Against the Latrine Ch. 11

Natasha grunted as she pushed her dildo in quicker and quicker; her workout for the day. "You like my cock in your fucking arse?" She asked, and I groaned into the cotton bedsheets as another dry orgasm cascaded over me. They were continual, shaking my soul with a burst of erotic energy and satisfaction. "This is me fucking you. You're loving this fucking dick pounding your butt, don't you?"

"Yes," I muttered with snatched breaths. I cried into the white duvet as Natasha pounded me with the same wild, relentless abandon. I screwed all of my girlfriends, but never had one screwed me before. But I had never had a partner like Natasha before. My hands trembled, my thighs shook. My mind overloaded with wanton arousal, I squealed and my cock spasmed and pulsed, and a cum dribbled on the duvet.

A continual stream as Natasha fucked the orgasm from me. My body quivered from the everlasting climax. My dick splattered several streaks of cum as she buggered me to an incredible peak. When she withdrew the dildo, I missed it. I panted, and she smiled as she put the butt plug back in my hole.

"Go have a fucking shower, and clean this bedding, you fucking strumpet." She stood, arms crossed with the glistening strap-on between her legs, and beamed at me.

I had never felt so emasculated. Or weak. Or happy.

And she knew it.