The very moment my cunt was exposed it was stretched around two of his fat fingers. Between the possessive grip around my flank and the assertive rhythm of fingers preparing me like a chicken ready for stuffing, the best I could manage was to keep quiet while my twat leaked like an overripe fruit.
A silly bet, if he could turn me on in less than a minute then he could do what he wanted with me.
10 seconds in and I’d already lost; the fingers inside me felt like they were slipping into my brain, making me stupider with every wriggling poke, my body turned feverish and shaky, my naked skin prickled, my nipples turned hard, moans swole in my throat, my pussy begged for something bigger, my body screamed for his raw cock.
It wasn’t fair, I wasn’t expecting him to be so… so assertive. I said “okay, try it”, expecting an attempt at flirting, not to be stripped naked on the spot and treated like, like…
“YOU SLUT”
Those words hurt, how dare he? A woman cannot control the way her body responds, just because every inch of my being wanted him to throw me down and fuck the life out of me right then and there after a few seconds of degrading treatment, it didn’t make me a slut. Just because those words made my legs buckle and my pussy juice splatter, my eye’s roll back and my throat groan with longing pleasure, that didn’t make me a slut either. And just because-
“You’re soaked!”
The thing that broke me wasn’t him making me aware of how aroused I was, but that I could hear the the tone of genuine surprise in his voice. It felt good to give up the charade, I let my tongue roll out and begged him to fuck me like the slut I clearly was.