Feeling Fulfilled

That evening, you lay cuddled up on the couch with Ben. The room was dark and warm… lit only by a candle or two and the flickering light of the television. Lisa had gone home a good few hours ago, satisfied with the single orgasm you had brought her to, lapping away like the puppy you were. You had cooked a simple meal of pasta for your man, enjoying the feel of his eyes... and occasionally hands, upon you while you danced nervously around the kitchen. Miraculously, nothing had burned, despite these distractions… and you were awash with the blushing pride of having dispensed your housewifely duties without hiccup.

So now, you were receiving your reward… Lying there, wrapped in the arms of the one you loved the most. You could feel the meat and warmth of him buried up to its hilt in your rectum. It was just sitting there, swollen and stiffened. Spreading your sphincter wide and cozying up to your colon. Nothing felt more natural than to have that oh so regular guest back where it belonged. Filling your belly with just that lumpen awareness of him being there, inside you.

The television chattered on to itself, dispensing some binge-worthy drama or other that you had selected but now could barely focus on. The characters on screen and their fantasy lives had never been the point, because you were already living your own perfect fantasy. Lying here feeling your lover's breath stir stray hairs on the top of your head, just ever so slightly. Feeling his steady heartbeat from both within you and behind you. Feeling every slight twitch and movement he made from that point where you were connected. That place where his flesh invaded yours and made you whole again. If this moment could last forever: going no further, but never slipping away. You would be utterly content. Basking in both comfort and anticipation without a single doubt that would ever turn to disappointment. Your master didn’t need to fuck you if he didn't want to. He could just use you as a holster for his pistol for as long as he wished. As long as you were of some use to him, what more could you ask for?

...After half an hour or so, he did begin moving though. Slowly. Subtly. Sliding his way in and out of you so gently, that perhaps you might not have noticed at all… Had not every inch of your nervous system been directed towards every aspect of him it could pick up. You could not help but let slip a low, soft moan as it began. The noise of some mewling, hungry baby animal. Transmitting to him just how much your small body needed to be ravished and penetrated. You could happily sit upon his cock forever, yes… but to be pummelled into the couch cushions would be even better. There was a confusing hierarchy to heaven: everything was as incredible as everything else.

This wasn't going to be a furious bout of lovemaking though, that much was certain. He was surely tired after his first day at a new job. Your role was just to be there for him as whatever warm, wet hole he required. His rigid, swollen length slipped in and out of you like a smooth, pneumatic piston. Unhurried but unstoppable. Drawing pleasure for itself from the deep, tight passages of your intestine. You let yourself naturally slip into an answering rhythm of clenching and relaxing. Squeezing and embracing his entries with all of your physicality. Proving to him just how welcome he was in the depths of your being. Trying to maximise every ounce of the experience he might gain from delving into the deepest reaches of you.

Little gasps fell from your lips, still slightly doused in the flavour of the woman he'd had you service. You felt a reddening flush fill your cheeks; the truest blusher a slutty, little sissy-boy like you should ever hope to wear. The TV flashed away, forgotten… as your entire soul was overcome with the sensations of being driven into, and out of. Into... And out of. The slow, grinding moments of friction spaced out between settling seconds of contemplation. Where you could revel in each thrust just long enough to wonder when the next one might be coming.

Out front, still trapped in the confines of your half-tugged-down shorts: Your own meagre penis twitched and throbbed. Inflating a little each time your master reached his peak inside of you, but falling soft again as he dragged himself back out. Every time he reached just the edge of your entrance, the bulbous rim of his helmet brushed your prostate, sending deep shivers of emotion running up your spine. It was a bulldozer-like build up of grinding tremors and turmoil. A rollercoaster rolling at five miles an hour and yet still just dwelling in that intensity of stomach-churning excitement for longer.

You could already tell you weren’t going to cum from this, though the throb and swell of Ben's cock told you he would soon. But that didn't matter at all. This was what you were for: to provide climax to others. Nothing was more fulfilling than to feel the last, bucking twitches of your master cumming inside you... Then to lie cooling in the aftermath. Alone with just the night and his slumbering form. With just your thoughts and a trickle of him still leaking out of your asshole. Feeling your heart still thumping at a thousand beats per minute and some deep, primal part of you still aching for him to give it another go. That was all part of it as well… and he knew it.

You would spend the whole next day just dreaming of his cock. Hoping that next time he would bend you forward and slam into you as brutally as you deserved. Oh, what a perfect life you’d found!