Ben drives a wedge

Emma’s mind was a blissful, hazy fog. The violent aftershocks of her climax still rippled through her thighs, leaving her limbs heavy, her thoughts completely scrambled, and her body utterly pliant. When Ben grabbed her by the hips and effortlessly shifted her to the edge of the sagging couch, she didn't resist. She just let her legs fall open, her chest heaving, her eyes glassy and fixed on him.

He stood up, towering over her seated form, taking off his football shirt. A dark, triumphant smirk played on his lips as he looked down at her disheveled state. He reached down passed his large belly, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his grey, sweat-stained joggers. With a sharp, deliberate tug, he shoved them down past his hips, along with his boxers, letting them pool around his ankles.

His cock sprang free, and Emma's breath hitched, her eyes locking onto it instantly.

It was a stark, shocking contrast to everything she knew. Tom’s cock was neat, trimmed, and safe, the kind of dick that belonged in clean, crisp sheets during missionary sex. It was polite.

Ben’s cock was the exact opposite. It was thick, heavy, and unapologetically raw. Angry purple veins mapped the length of the shaft, and the head was blunt, swollen, and glistening with a thick bead of clear pre-cum. It carried the faint, primal, musky scent of his sweat and arousal, a dirty, animalistic smell that made her mouth water and her core clench with a fresh, **** ache.

"Look at it," Ben commanded, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. He took a step closer, his thick thighs brushing against her knees, forcing her to look directly at his throbbing erection. "Bet this looks a hell of a lot better than Tom’s neat little thing, doesn't it? All that prim and proper bullshit, and you’re sitting here drooling over your boyfriend’s dirty, unwashed roommate."

Emma’s lips parted, a soft, involuntary whimper escaping her throat. She couldn't look away. The mental image of Tom’s tidy, predictable body was completely obliterated by the raw, intimidating reality of Ben’s meat right in front of her face. The sheer depravity of the comparison sent a jolt of taboo electricity straight to her core. She realized, with a dizzying rush of shame and arousal, that she didn't want the safe, clean version anymore. She wanted this thick, sweaty, degrading reality.

"Y-yes," she breathed out, the word slipping past her lips before she could stop it. Her hands rested limply on her own thighs, her fingers twitching with the sudden, overwhelming urge to reach out and touch the thick, veiny flesh.

Ben chuckled, a dark, mocking sound. He reached down and grabbed a fistful of her hair, tilting her head back so she had to look up at him, his erection hovering just inches from her nose.

"That's right," he sneered, rubbing the swollen, wet tip of his cock against her cheek, leaving a slick trail of pre-cum on her skin, the taste was strong. "His boring little dick could never make you scream like I just did. You’re a dirty little cheat, Emma. And you’re going to take every inch of this filthy cock and thank me for it."