My fantasies twist and turn, but always rise up the same way. The things I ignore, but deep down I want so badly. It reoccurs, in my dreams and the things I read and the things I crave at night.
It’s always the same.
Face buried on the pillow, the scent of the hair product I use filling my nose, and muffling my groans. Back bowed with each thrust, the power of it making me ache all over. The rapid ingress, both unwanted and desperately needed as this nameless man takes what he believes rightfully belongs to him.
My body, pressed and used harder than it’s ever been used before. And the unmistakeable presence of his hand around my neck, reminding me of my precarious position even as pleasure burns like fire through my body.
“You want it so fucking bad, don’t you?”
He grunts the words in my ear as he uses me. I do, I do, I want it.
I want to feel every hard inch. Each stroke rougher than the one before. I want to feel him bottom out, making me squeal each time. I want him to ignore my cries, squeezing at my neck enough to remind me of my place. I want bruises on my hip from his grip and aches all over my body from the use. He makes it hurt and I beg for more.
I want to cum from the brunt of his aggression and cum again because he’s not done with me yet. He’ll never be done with me if he had his way.
A delicious fantasy.