Three (Technically True)

Her voice gave away the fact that she was holding things back. You smiled coldly, fingers sliding inside her tight, wet pussy and rubbing her clit. Your other hand rested on the small of her back, holding her down as you brought her ever closer to orgasm. She started to writhe against your hand and the table, trying to get more and more pressure on her tits and cunt and you pulled free. She mewled her objection and looked over her shoulder at you, dark eyes filled with lust.

Your cock twitched at that sight and the fact that she could see it. For all that her complaint was with your hands, her eyes were locked on your cock. “No, no, no, only honest girls get off. I don’t care if you’re a nasty slut, or a Vestal Virgin, I’ve fucked both, but you lie to me and you get to be stuck here,” a hand lashed out, slapping her firm ass, then rubbing away the pain, “on the edge, for as long as I can keep you here. And that’s a very long time. Now, how many people have you fucked?”

“Five, sir, but two of them were women and you said--”

She was interrupted by her own moans and the sound of fingers expertly manipulating a wet and trembling quim.

As you felt her muscles contracting, as her moans grew to a crescendo as impressive as any opera singer’s, you spoke again, “You’ve left something out. Tell me and no word games, if you want to cum.”

“John Cale,” she panted.

“And why did you leave him out,” you asked, as she reached the crest of her orgasm.

“HE BROKE ME,” she yelled as she came all over your fingers, leaving you with two tasty messes, one on your hand and one on the table in front of you.