In my filthy dream, it always starts like this, with you grabbing me from behind, whispering that my teasing has gone on long enough, that I need to be taught a lesson, as your big hand smacks my glistening cunt and trembling thighs. As I arch backwards into you, the startlingly wonderful stings making me growl with pleasure, you slap me harder, smiling as my cries grow higher with each hit, and the room fills with the shameful scent of my arousal.
“You’re so close now, aren’t you, bad girl? Slapping your filthy cunt makes you cum, doesn’t it?”
Your words push me to the brink, and you smile at my face, twisted in concentration and lust, trying to hold on, hold back the huge wave that’s cresting, that’s going to pull me down deep. You smack me between the legs hard and fast, and chuckle at my frantic begging, my pleading, tearing eyes, my streaming cunt gushing, clenching, ready to explode.
Your hand tightens on my neck, your dark eyes bore into mine, and time slows down as my heart begins to race and I try to divine your intentions.
Will you debase me thoroughly, Sir, give me what I so desperately desire, or will you send me home, swollen, wet and aching, forbidden to touch?
How will you haunt my dreams tonight?