Jan. Week 3: Friday(Condom)-The Condom Breaks! [Unlucky] (Silence: +25 Suspicion:+15)

Mr. Bill’s cock pistoned into her, relentless, a living battering ram that sought out the softest, deepest parts of her and abused them without mercy. With every slap of hips against ass, Leah felt her insides stretch and yield, the sensation vacillating between a sharp, stabbing ache and a molten, liquid bliss. It was impossible—he was impossible— but her body refused to let go, clinging to him, wringing sensation from each violent thrust. Her knees slipped a bit but she braced herself, palms sweating, face mashed into the creaking couch, as she let herself be used.

She could hear the couch groaning, the wet, obscene squelch of her own womanhood, and the rasp of Mr. Bill’s breath as he fucked her with the singular focus of a man who’d just hit the sexual lottery. Leah tried to maintain some dignity, but her ass was high, back arched, breasts dangling and shaking with every impact. Each new **** into her made her gasp, made her hips jerk in time with his, and every attempt to clamp down the noise only made it come out higher, needier.

He was talking to her the whole time, too.

“God damn, girl, ain’t never had pussy grip me like this,” or, “That’s it, back it up on me, show Mr. Bill how much you like that big dick.” It should have mortified her, and somewhere deep enough it did, but the words turned her on, made her hotter, wetter, made her want to show him exactly what she could take.

She could feel her own juices leaking down her thighs, making a mess of her legs and the seat beneath her. It was so much, so over the top, she half-worried that she’d never be able to look at herself in the mirror again. But it didn’t stop her. Nothing could stop her.

He lasted forever. She could tell he was holding back, toying with her, trying to see how much she could handle. Every time she thought he might finish, he’d slow down, pull out almost all the way, then slam back in hard enough to make her yelp.

He fucked her even harder now, holding her hips so tight she knew she’d have bruises in the morning. The sensation was overwhelming, almost too much—she could feel every vein, every throb, every pulse of his cock as it battered her insides.

She didn’t even notice when he started to cum. There was no warning—just a sudden, molten heat inside her, a flood of slick, sticky liquid that gushed into her womb and overflowed, leaking out around his cock and pooling on the ruined couch. It was an unmistakable sensation, the proof of what she’d let him do to her, and for a moment Leah’s mind went blank with the knowledge of it.

Leah’s mind reeled, the realization crashing into her with a mixture of panic and perverse excitement. She’d never been fucked raw by a man this big, never been nearly bred by a black man. She tried to say something, to protest or at least to question, but all that came out was a whimper, a needy, trembling, “Oh god—”

Mr. Bill didn’t stop. He kept fucking her through his own orgasm, milking every last drop, grinding himself into her with a greedy, triumphant groan.

He finally pulled out, the head of his monster cock popping free with a wet, obscene sound. Leah felt a gush of hot, white cum splatter down her thighs and onto the floor. She twisted to look, dazed and horrified and weirdly proud, and saw the condom—what was left of it—bunched up at the very base of his dick, completely shredded and useless.

She wanted to scream at him, to punch him, to cry. Instead, she just slumped forward, exhausted, letting gravity take her to her elbows. She didn’t want to see the mess between her legs, didn’t want to acknowledge the slow ooze of Mr. Bill’s seed as it leaked out of her and onto the cheap couch.

Leah’s body trembled, wracked by aftershocks. The humiliation was absolute, but there was an undercurrent of satisfaction, too—an ugly, guilty sense of having accomplished something, even if it was just surviving.

“Damn, girl… you just made me cum inside you forreal,” he said a bit sheepish with a twisted hint of pride. “Condom didn’t have a chance I guess, shit…”

She pulled herself upright, feeling the sticky mess slide down between her cheeks, and glared at him.

“You absolute asshole.” she spat, but the words lacked venom. It was hard to sound threatening when you were naked, bruised, and dripping from a man’s cock. She didn’t even have to say “you knew it broke” it was clear to both of them.

“Shit, you wanted it,” he said with a deep sigh before adding “You might wanna hit up CVS on your way home. Get you one of them Plan Bs. Unless you want a little Mr. Bill running around. That might complicate some thangs with you and yo mans.”