Talking...(while fucking)

The hunger is restless. 

It is like a thirst that cannot be quenched; a desire that cannot be satisfied.  No amount of masturbation can satiate the feelings that rage within, nothing which can prevent the depraved thoughts from growing in the mind. 

Depraved thoughts of you. Of me. Of many things.  Two, three, more times a day, in light, in darkness and yet it still isn't enough to calm the desire and the hunger that burns in every fibre of my being.  It still leaves me unsated. The desire, the longing, the urgent need still screaming, the hunger still restless.

So I imagine him, fucking me up and down the room, the kind of animalistic fucking where furniture goes flying, as bodies fall from one wall to another; hair pulled, face slapped, bruised, battered, bitten. Forced against the table sending the contents splaying all over the floor. Thrown against the sofa and on to the floor. Frenzied and frenetic fucking all played out before your eyes. 

His voice in my ear, talking while fucking, whispering into my ear of the things he is going to do to me, the things he is going to make you watch while he does them to me. His voice reverberating through my mind, around the room as he tells you what he is going to do to me.

And this does it to me.  It opens me. 

A voice, his words, the sound of the deep and sexy voice that has such an hypnotic effect, it enters into my head and opens me up more to him.  And he is talking and fucking. 

And you are watching still.

And without him touching me further, his words are forceful and strong, commanding and compelling, they are another implement in our pleasure, another tool in a box of so many. They penetrate my body, my mind.

And I come.

To the sound of his voice. To his words.  

And I am fucked, physically, emotionally, verbally.

My body shakes. The dampness of my skin against his from the forceful way he has taken me, he runs a fingernail down my spine, it is wet, I am wet.  And I feel naked, empty, open.

And still you watch.

He whispers into my ear, moving me down to my knees before him.

"Tell me how much you like my cock" He says. His words penetrating into my mind once more, infiltrating into the depths of me.  My own body reacting to the desire and longing from his words.

I kneel before him. His cock is hard, large, thick, I love the way the veins stand out, how it stands perpendicular to his body from where it is so hard from arousal. And as I touch it, while looking at you, I smile.

"I love it . . .I want to suck it and taste it and feel it . . ." I reply, still watching you.

You know how much I like to suck cock and yet you know that it has been so long since I have done so with yours.  And as I lean forward to take his cock in my mouth, my eyes do not break from your gaze.  I can tell that your cock is hard without being able to see it. I know that you are sat there wishing this were your cock being taken into my mouth.  I know that in the depths of your mind that you wish it was your mouth the cock was forcing its way into.  I know you are desiring, lustful, fervent, and that you are invaded by the words, aroused by what you have seen played out before your eyes.

I tease you with my eyes while I tease him, touch him, taste him.

I am taken to a place of ecstasy and surrender.  He grabs my hair, forcing himself deeper into my mouth, his grip on my hair is hard and harsh but it makes me groan from desire and want him all the more.  I am gagging now as he fucks my mouth, my eyes are no longer locked on you, they are locked on this beautiful cock and the body behind it.  And it is fervent and frenzied and it is rough and hard. And there are tears in my eyes and upon my face as he forces himself deep into my mouth and my throat.  And he is fucking me deeper and harder and I am gasping, gagging, choking, struggling for breath. And your breathing is shallow. And in the distance I hear you moan.

His voice unlocks me. Breaking the hold that he has on me.  Taking me away from the place I had drifted to. I do not hear what he says, but know that he has spoken to you.  You are blushing, humiliated at the words that he has thrown at you.  Seeing you there, like that, arouses me deeply.  I feel the hunger rising, the desire building at your discomfort, at your humiliation, yet knowing that will go straight to your cock.  Just as it goes straight to the depths of me.

He pulls me to my feet by my hair.

"Do you know how wet she is?" He asks you.  You nod, your eyes glazed with longing, with your own desire and arousal.

"I am going to turn her around and I am going to slam my cock deep into her. Hard. You love the sound of my balls slapping against her ass, don't you?"

His words, his voice and your reaction goes straight to my cunt. His words alone orchestrating the build up of another orgasm. 

And he pushes me over to the chair, where he fucks me hard, and I hear your moan as I groan at him entering me.  You are sat there watching him, watching his cock, watching me.  And I cannot get enough of him, and I want him to come in me and on me so he is there for longer, so I can feel him long after he has taken me. So you can taste him upon me long after he has gone.  And his words reverberate around inside me, and his cock is pounding into me.

And he is talking and fucking.  And you are watching. And longing. And wishing.

And I come at his words. And I come as he comes.  And as he comes he is still talking. Still fucking. And you’re still watching.

And he talked. And he fucked. And he talked while he fucked.  His voice, his words, echoing around inside the mind as he continues to whisper in my ear.  

And I beckon to you with a glance.  

There is no talking. 

There is no fucking.  

It's your turn now.