Facefuck

His hands find her hair, gripping tight, and he takes control. She feels the shift immediately—the rhythm no longer hers, the depth no longer her choice. Her hands grip his thighs as he fucks her face, tears streaming freely now, mascara painting dark rivers down her cheeks. Her throat works around him, gagging, swallowing, taking it because she wants to, because she chose this, because the roughness makes her feel alive in a way she can't explain.

She doesn't fight it. Her hands move from his thighs to his ass, pulling him deeper, a desperate sound escaping her throat as she surrenders fully to the pace he sets. The world narrows to the taste of him, the stretch of her jaw, the wet sounds filling the quiet morning air. Suddenly her throat gets overwhelmed with the taste of salt as he releases all his cum down her throat, some even coming out of her nose.

When he finally slows, she pulls back gasping, chest heaving, lips swollen and slick. She looks up at him, eyes red-rimmed, face a mess of tears and smeared makeup, and she's smiling.

"...Fuck. Okay. That was—"

She laughs, breathless, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"I didn't know I needed that."

She stays on her knees, looking up at him.