Being Used

I felt him touch me. His cock pressing against one breast and then sliding across to the other.

Breathing heavily I stared down at it, watching the head pulse as he ran it over my breasts. Watching the way he moved me, the way the softness of my body gave way to the hardness of him. The way my nipples puckered even harder after he pressed the head of his cock against them and then pulled back.

There was a wet slap as he bounced his cock against me and I watched my breast bounce from it, the ripples running out from the point of contact almost in slow motion before they settled into stillness once more.

Well mostly still. I was still breathing heavily. I was still so goddamn nervous as I let him take his lead, let him slowly slide his cock down between my breasts to settle in the valley of my cleavage.

"Do you like the look of it in there?" he asked me.

I nodded, "Fuck yes. It looks so hot."

Above me Blake chuckled, "I'd have to agree. But I think that comes down more to you than to the cock between your tits. Em. You are one of a kind."

Blushing now, for a different reason. Unable and unsure how to handle the compliments from him. Unable to understand why he keeps on telling me all these things and why they're always undercut by what almost amounts to an insult.

But is it an insult to be called a slut? Isn't that what I want to be?

"You really think I'm hot," I said, more as a note than a question, "You really do."

"Fuck," he grunted, "Sometimes it's like you can't see yourself. Like you've never looked in a mirror. Emily, you are the hottest girl I've seen since I walked onto campus and I am a lucky man to get to have you like this."

I shake my head to shake off the thoughts that are brewing, well aware that the more he lays on the charms the harder it will be to resist him and the more appealing that happy little homemaker life will be to me.

Because right now it doesn't sound so bad. Getting to be with a man like this. Getting to have him, to have him have me, whenever he wants. To submit.

To just stop thinking.

"You said you were going to fuck them," I mutter, "What's stopping you?"

He pulls back and I stop him this time. Squeezing my breasts together and laying an arm across them and the whole thing looks a little ridiculous because he's big, big enough that I can't exactly wrap my tits around him. But he fits all the same.

And I slide my arm back so I have one hand on each of my breasts and I hold him there, turning my head down and spitting slowly so it drips and dangles until it coats the head of his cock.

Before turning my eyes back up to him and giving him a heady glance, full of all of my needy arousal.

"Fuck my tits, Blake," I practically order him, "I want you to."

With a grunt he moves, thrusting his hips and pushing them forward. I feel the slickness of his shaft slide between my breasts and turn my head down just in time for him to pull back. I watch the head of him disappear into my cleavage and then reappear when he thrusts forward and I moan, my eyes practically rolling into the back of my head as I squeeze my thighs tighter.

This feeling.

I could get used to this feeling.

This feeling of losing control.

This feeling of being used.

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