Chapter 41
by
Writerofsmut02
What's next?
You are not done yet
Marcus is already halfway down the hallway when your voice cuts through the haze.
“Stop. You’re not done yet. I want you to fuck me.”
He pauses, turns, that slow, predatory smirk spreading across his face. “Oh, is that so? With pleasure.”
One stride and he’s on you. Big hands scoop you up like you’re weightless, toss you onto the bed beside Megan’s limp, satisfied body. Your skirt is still bunched around your waist; he shoves your thighs back until your knees touch your shoulders, exposing your soaked pussy to the cool air. The thick head of his cock (still slick from Megan) nudges your entrance and then slams home in one brutal thrust.
You scream his name, back arching off the mattress. He doesn’t ease in; he *fucks* you, hips pistoning, balls slapping your ass with every punishing stroke. His fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you exactly where he wants you.
“Oh my God—”
“That’s right, baby.”

He drives deep one last time, grinding against your cervix, and the orgasm detonates: white-hot, breathless, your whole body seizing as you squirt around his cock. He pulls out with a filthy wet sound, flips you onto your stomach, drags your hips up, and sinks back in from behind. The angle is obscene; every thrust punches the air from your lungs.
The mattress protests, headboard hammering the wall. There’s no tenderness left, just raw, animal rutting. You claw the sheets, screaming into the pillow as another climax builds, then another. He growls, sweat dripping from his brow onto your back.
“That’s what I like to see: true whores who can take it.”
One final, savage thrust and he buries himself to the root, flooding you with heat. The sensation tips you over again; your pussy milks him in violent spasms, vision going black at the edges.
When the world comes back, you’re both panting, tangled, wrecked. Megan watches from the pillow, eyes glassy, a lazy smile on her swollen lips.

“Wow,” you rasp. “That was incredible.”
Marcus chuckles, pulling out slow, watching his cum leak from both of you. “Glad you enjoyed it.”
“We both did,” Megan murmurs, voice hoarse.
He smirks, zipping up. “Makes sense. Mother and daughter, both big-cock whores.”
He gives your ass one last possessive slap and strolls out, door clicking shut behind him.
You and Megan collapse in a sweaty, satisfied heap, the faint smell of sex and lasagna drifting through the house, both of you grinning like idiots.
What's next?
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The Casting Couch
A casting director's story
You are a casting director in Hollywood and you like nothing more than to use that position to violate your women looking to be stars
Updated on Jun 11, 2026
by Writerofsmut02
Created on May 3, 2020
by Writerofsmut02
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