Sometimes the worst secrets are the ones you want whispered right into your ear - when your cock is buried so deep she can't lie anymore. This is not sweet. This is not safe. This is the raw, filthy kink of knowing exactly what she's done - and fucking her harder for it. If you're here, you know what you want. Welcome to Confessions While You Fuck Me.
Confessions While You Fuck Me
Mark sits in the dark kitchen, elbows braced on the table, foot tapping against the tile. The only light is the glow from the fridge. The clock says 1:37 AM - she was supposed to be back hours ago.
When the door clicks open, he doesn't move. He watches her silhouette slip in - keys jingling, a soft hiccup of laughter under her breath like she's trying to pretend she's not drunk.
She turns and freezes when she sees him. Her purse slips from her shoulder, landing with a muffled thud.
Vanessa looks like every man’s wet dream gone a little too real.
Her hair’s undone, that rich, soft wave he loves now falling wild around her shoulders. Strands stick to her neck — damp from sweat or maybe someone’s breath.
Her lips are pink, too pink, a little swollen. There’s a smudge of mascara under one eye that just makes her look more raw.
The blouse she’s wearing is one he’s seen before — soft, loose — but tonight it’s half-tucked, the top button undone, a faint bruise peeking out near her collarbone. Her skirt is tight around her hips — the hem rides up just enough to flash the curve of her thigh when she shifts.
She smells like her perfume — but underneath is something muskier, sharper: sweat, cheap cologne, a man’s skin.
Mark’s jaw tightens. His eyes drag over her legs, the mess of her hair, the guilty flush on her cheeks.
She tries to play it off — brushing a hand through her hair, flashing that little grin she’s used on him since they were twenty.
“You’re up,” she says, voice light, but her eyes flick away too quick. “I didn’t think you’d still be awake.”
The silence hums between them — heavy, like the air just before a storm.
Vanessa shifts her weight from one heel to the other, brushing her skirt down her thigh like she can smooth away the truth.
Mark stays planted in the chair, arms folded across his chest. His foot taps once. Twice.
“Where were you.”
It’s not a question — it’s a dare.
Vanessa’s mouth opens — then closes again. Her eyes dart to the clock behind him. Then back to his face.
She shrugs, but her shoulders are tight.
“Just out. We went to the wine bar on 6th — the girls and I. You know.”
Mark’s eyes flick down — to that dark smudge on her collarbone, half hidden by her loose hair.
He tips his head, voice low.
“You get that drinking wine with the girls?”
She flinches — her hand lifts, fingers brushing the spot like she just remembered it’s there.
“It’s nothing. I… I think someone just bumped into me, that’s all.”
He lets out a sharp laugh — but it’s humorless. His eyes drag down her legs again — the skirt hitched too high, the faint imprint of a seatbelt buckle on her thigh.
“You look like you got fucked, Vanessa.”
She freezes. Her lips part, like she wants to spit out another excuse - but it dies before she finds it. She crosses her arms tight across her chest, as if that'll hide the flush creeping up her neck.
Mark doesn't move - still planted in the chair, arms folded, foot tapping steady on the tile. He watches her from across the room, eyes dragging over every wrinkle in her skirt, every smear of lipstick she didn't bother fixing.
He doesn't blink. Doesn't say another word.
He doesn't have to.
The kitchen feels too still.
Vanessa stands there, arms tight across her chest, fingers digging into her skin like she's trying to hold herself in. Mark sits in that damn chair - hasn't moved an inch - his eyes pinning her to the floor.
His voice is low. Heavy. No shouting - just enough to make her chest tighten.
“Tell me the truth, Vanessa. Don’t lie to me,” Mark said.
Her mouth opens — nothing comes out.
She drags her nails over her sleeve, picks at the hem like it'll save her.
Finally, her eyes dart up — wide, wet, lips parted.
“… We made out,” Vanessa whispered.
She rushes it, like if she spits it out fast, it won't stick to the walls.
“He kissed me. I kissed him back. It was just stupid — we were drunk — it didn't mean anything.”
Mark's jaw ticks. His foot taps once — the sharp thock echoes off the tile.
His eyes drop: the wrinkled skirt, the messed hair, the smudge at her collarbone.
“And?” he said.
Vanessa's lips part — but nothing comes out at first.
Mark doesn't move. His eyes drag down her body — the messy hair, the smudge at her collarbone, her skirt twisted at the hip like it's been grabbed by hands that weren't his.
He leans back in the chair — arms folded tight, voice low, almost mocking.
“Hmmm. Just a make out, huh?” he said.
His eyes flick up to hers — hold there, flat and unblinking.
“You look like that... from a little drunk kissing?”
She flinches. Her shoulders curl forward — hands squeezing her arms like they might keep the truth in.
“… No…” Vanessa breathed.
Her voice is so small she almost chokes on it. She stares at the floor. Her breath comes out shaky.
“… He ate me out.”
It lands like a slap. Shame floods her face — her lashes lower, but not fast enough to hide the pulse at her throat.
A tremor shivers up her thighs — she shifts her legs, pressing them together like she can hide the warmth building there.
Mark doesn't say anything. He just watches her — foot tapping steady, jaw clenched so tight his teeth ache.
The silence between them hums — thick and sharp, like a wire pulled too tight.
Vanessa keeps her head down, hair falling over her cheek as she stares at the floor — but something tugs her gaze up, slow, guilty curiosity she can’t stop.
Her eyes flick to his lap.
The way he’s leaning back in that chair, arms crossed — his legs spread just enough.
She sees it: the hard shape pressing against his sweatpants, thick and heavy, no hiding it now.
She freezes — breath caught in her chest. A tiny, strangled sound slips out, not quite a word.
Her thighs squeeze together. Heat blooms under her skin — the same shame that flushes her cheeks drips down between her legs.
Mark notices her eyes drop — follows her line of sight.
He shifts — a twitch, like he’s about to cover himself — but he doesn’t.
Something flickers across his eyes — that flash of understanding that makes his jaw tense.
He pushes his palms against his knees, leans forward, stands up. The chair legs scrape the floor behind him — the sound makes her flinch.
He doesn’t say a word at first — just closes the space between them in two slow steps.
Vanessa stays pinned to the spot, breath shallow, eyes darting from his face to that thick outline straining his sweats.
He stops inches from her — so close she can feel the heat rolling off him.
His hand comes up — not to cup her face or hold her jaw, but low, rough, sliding under her skirt.
His fingers find the lace — soaked. He presses in, dragging the damp fabric aside, slipping two fingers through the heat.
“… You’re wet,” Mark said.
His voice is flat — but the gravel under it says more. He feels her clench around his fingers, feels the slick coat his knuckles.
“… Is that from the fuck?” he asked.
Vanessa's breath catches — her whole body goes tight. Her eyes flick up, wide, lips parted.
“… What... what fuck?” she stammered.
Her voice is tiny, trembling — a half-lie dying in her mouth. She tries to step back, but his other hand hooks her hip, keeps her there.
Mark's jaw flexes. His thumb presses harder — the wet sound of his fingers dragging through her folds makes her knees shake.
“Hmmm. Don't lie to me,” he growled.
He leans in, his mouth close enough to feel the heat of her shaky breath.
“No one eats pussy like yours and leaves it at that,” Mark said.
His words split her right open — shame prickles across her chest, but her hips rock into his hand, helpless.
He drags two fingers deep — the stretch makes her gasp, the word stuck on her tongue.
“… Y-yeah… on… on his back seat…” Vanessa gasped.
Her hips jerk — a soft moan spills out, shame cracked open by the drag of his knuckles inside her.
“… Oh god… Mark…” she whimpered.
He doesn't stop — fingers driving faster, thumb circling her clit until her legs start to shake.
Her breath breaks into tiny, helpless gasps — but her eyes stay wide, nervous, not fully sure if this is punishment or if he wants every filthy detail.
The fear that he might hate it and stop — or worse, love it and want more — makes her whimper even harder.
Mark’s fingers drive deep one last time, dragging a soft, broken moan from her throat — then he yanks his hand away, wet with her slick.
His eyes lock on hers — dark, hungry, something dangerous under the cold.
He grips her hip, spins her, pushes her back into the chair he just stood up from. The wood scrapes the tile — she gasps, hands grabbing at the arms to keep steady.
Before she can even catch her breath, his hands shove her skirt up — rough, impatient. Her panties snap tight around her thighs as he drags them aside, baring her dripping pussy in the harsh kitchen light.
She starts to say something — a whimper, a protest, maybe a question — but it melts into a tiny, choked gasp when he frees his cock from his sweats. Thick, flushed, so hard the tip drags against her inner thigh.
Her eyes flutter, lashes wet — mouth parted, cheeks burning. She looks wrecked: hair a mess, blouse half open, legs trembling, slick dripping from her slit onto the seat under her.
Mark doesn’t give her time to think — he grips her hip, lines up, and sinks in hard. The stretch knocks the breath out of her, her fingers curl tight around the chair arms.
“Oh— oh god—” Vanessa gasped.
She squirms under him — a low, shameful whimper slipping past her lips. The confusion flickers in her eyes — but under it, the heat blooms like a bruise, raw and unstoppable.
Mark’s hands dig into her hips — he drags his cock back, then slams in again, each thrust sharp, angry, claiming.
“Hmmm. Where was your friend while you were getting fucked?” Mark growled.
His voice is rough, low — every word punctuated by the wet slap of him burying himself to the hilt.
Vanessa’s eyes flick open — half-dreamy, half-afraid.
“… she… they were getting fucked too…” she moaned.
Mark lets out a dark sound — a laugh that never reaches his eyes. His grip tightens — the chair creaks under them.
“Oh really?” he said.
His hips snap forward — she cries out, hips jerking under the force.
“Y-yeah… Hannah was with… with two guys behind the truck… further down…” Vanessa gasped.
Mark groans — the sound raw, torn from somewhere deep. His cock drives into her harder now — each thrust jolts her hips, her moans slurring into helpless gasps.
“So you… you went with him alone?” he growled.
She nods — words spilling between breathless moans.
“… Yeah… I was just letting Hannah have her two cocks she wanted…” Vanessa whimpered.
His hand slips down — thumb pressing her clit, forcing her hips to roll up to meet every thrust.
“Did he fuck you hard?” Mark snarled.
Her voice cracks — a whimper that turns filthy at the edges.
“… For… for a bit… but he didn’t last long…” she breathed.
Mark grunts — his hips pick up pace, the sound of slick skin and her breathless cries filling the kitchen.
“Did you cum?” he growled.
She stares at him — eyes wide, shame and arousal blurring together. The word comes out like a guilty gift.
“… Y-yeah… I did…” Vanessa breathed.
“Hard?” Mark asked.
She bites her lip — the next words slip out half moaned, half confessed.
“… Yeah… he… he railed me hard enough… made me cum…” she whispered.
Mark snarls — hips slamming into her, the chair rattling under the force. She gasps, her thighs slick and open, her pussy clenching around him.
“… Oh god… Mark…” she moaned.
Mark’s hand tightens on her throat — his mouth close to her ear now, breath hot, words rough and low, like he’s scared to want it but can’t stop.
“Did you beg him for it?” he growled.
His cock slams deep — the chair creaks under them. Vanessa’s moan catches in her throat, breaking on the squeeze of his fingers at her neck.
“… No… I… I didn’t beg…” she gasped.
She gasps when he thrusts deeper, voice cracking as her hips jerk up for more.
“… He… he just pulled me… over the seat… lifted my skirt…” she whimpered.
His hips snap forward — every word she spills makes him harder, rougher. The sound of slick skin and her strangled whimpers echo in the kitchen.
“Did you want it?” Mark asked, voice rough.
She shudders — her eyes flutter half closed, breath hitching.
“… I didn’t plan it… but when he touched me I— oh— I couldn’t stop…” Vanessa confessed.
His thumb drags hard circles over her clit, her pussy milking him. His voice cuts through her gasps, a low growl curling under every word.
“Where was his hand? On your mouth?” he demanded.
She whimpers — her lips tremble.
“… Yeah… he… he covered my mouth… when I moaned…” she whispered.
Mark grunts — the sound raw, twisted, his hips pounding faster, driving her back into the chair.
“And your friend? She was taking two cocks while you got bent over?” he snarled.
Vanessa’s moan turns filthy, desperate. Her nails scrape the arms of the chair, legs wide open for him.
“… Y-yeah… she… she was on her knees… taking one in her mouth… the other fucking her from behind…” she gasped.
Mark’s breath hits her neck — a dark, savage sound. His hips snap harder, the slap of skin so wet and sharp it drowns out her gasps.
“Did he cum inside you?” Mark growled.
She shakes her head, words spilling fast and breathy.
“… No… he pulled out… came on my back… said my pussy was so good… tight…” she breathed.
Mark snarls, teeth grazing her shoulder — hips pounding so deep her legs tremble.
“Bet you loved that. Bet you loved coming home full of another man’s spit, huh?” he growled.
Vanessa’s eyes roll back — her pussy clenches, a broken moan bubbling up.
“… Oh god… Mark… I— I came so hard… I couldn’t help it…” she whimpered.
His hand slides from her throat to her jaw — tilts her face up so she has to look him in the eye.
“Say it again,” Mark demanded.
“… He… he fucked me… bent me over… came on me… left me messy for you…” Vanessa whispered.
Mark’s cock pulses, hips driving faster, rough and deep. Her voice turns soft, dreamy, filthy — each word makes her wetter, the chair slick under her thighs.
“… And now you’re… you’re fucking me to it… god, you’re so hard… inside me… while I tell you how I let him use me…” she gasped.
He growls — hips snap one last time, burying himself balls-deep as her pussy clamps down, tight and hot, milking him. A ragged moan tears from his throat as he spills inside her — thick, hot, betrayal and arousal mixed up in every pulse.
Vanessa’s breath shudders — her legs spasm around his waist, her lips parted in a soft, fucked-out whimper.
She looks at him — eyes wide, lashes wet, shame and something raw shining under the kitchen light.
The last words fall out of her in a hush — a soft, dirty surrender.
“… I’m yours…” she whispered.
Mark stays buried inside her — her pussy milking every last pulse of him. Her breath comes out ragged, her lashes damp, her mouth soft and open like she wants to apologize but can't find the words.
She tries to catch his eyes — but he's staring right at her ruined pussy, his cock twitching deep, their mess leaking out around him.
His thumb drags over her jaw, forcing her to look up — voice low, dangerous, almost a growl.
“… I know there's more,” Mark said.
She flinches — her lips tremble, the heat between her thighs fluttering all over again.
His hips roll once more, slow but deep — enough to make her gasp.
“… Next time,” Mark growled.
His fingers slide into her hair, tugging just enough to bare her throat.
“… I’m gonna need every filthy detail…” he said.
He leans in, his breath hot against her ear — the promise cuts her open all over again.
“… While I fuck this tight pussy until you can't keep a single secret from me,” he murmured.
Her answer is nothing but a shaky, helpless moan — and that's all he needs.
Vanessa's laid out on her back on their bed — black lace panties clinging to her hips, bra straps slipping off her shoulders every time she arches for more.
Her hair's a dark, messy halo on the pillow — lips slick with gloss, parted to pant between filthy giggles.
Mark's kneeling between her thighs — cock fat and heavy in her fist, his other hand buried inside her pussy.
His fingers move slow and deep, thumb dragging circles around her clit until her thighs jump every time he hits that sweet spot. She's soaked for him — sheets under her ass dark with wet.
She giggles — breathless, half gone — each dirty secret she spills making her hips roll like she's ready to beg for the next one.
“Tell me. Who else had this pussy?” Mark growled, voice low and rough.
Her lashes flutter — her nails dig a little deeper at the base of his cock, slicking him up as she squeezes.
She moans — her eyes catch his, wicked and dreamy.
“… Want a sweet one first? One that'll make you feel good?” Vanessa teased.
He presses his thumb down — her gasp cracks open into a needy moan.
“Yeah. Sweet. Who else got you?” he demanded.
She hums — thumb tracing the vein along his cock, spreading her slick across the head.
“… The boy at the gym. Nineteen. Poor kid used to stare at my ass every time I bent over to squat. Couldn't help it — I'd arch extra deep for him,” she breathed.
Mark's jaw ticks — his fingers curl inside her, pulling a wet sound from deep in her throat.
“… One day I caught him alone — cornered him in the locker room, pushed him back on the bench. Told him to fuck me. He was so nervous — hands shaking when he tugged his shorts down. Didn't last at all. Came inside me while he moaned ‘Miss.’ I walked out dripping his cum down my thigh...” she giggled.
She laughs — rough, breathless. Mark grunts, hips jerking forward into her fist.
Mark's breath rumbles low, rough against her ear. His cock twitches in her fist when she squeezes tighter, smearing him slick.
“Of course. A hot, sexy body like yours… you give him some pussy like that, he's gonna cum quick. Nervous as hell,” he growled.
Her giggle melts into a moan. She lifts her hips, rolling onto his fingers like she's still showing him how she did it.
“Yeah, he was. You should've seen him when I told him I wanted it from the back. He could hardly manage when I backed it up on him,” she teased.
She drags her nails up his shaft — her pussy clenches around his knuckles.
“I was so horny, baby. I pushed my ass up on him, forced him to hit that spot. Made him fuck me deeper ‘til he couldn't hold it. Mmm…” she moaned.
Mark's laugh is low — mocking, like he's tearing that boy down while fucking her with just his fingers.
“Poor guy. Was he big?” he asked.
Her giggle breaks on a moan — she lifts her hips, rolling them into his palm.
“Small. So hard for me — but nowhere near enough,” she whispered.
She bites her lip — her eyes flutter dreamy as she squeezes the head of his cock, reminding him who really fills her up.
“Didn't even stretch me, baby. I had to push back so deep just to feel him. He fucked me so quick, made a mess in me — like he'd done something special,” she teased.
Her nails scrape the vein along his shaft — her pussy clenches down on his knuckles like she's begging him to show her what the boy couldn't.
She giggles, voice soft and dripping as she strokes him harder, her nails gliding slick down the head.
“Well… the next one was a long dick though,” Vanessa purred.
Mark’s brow twitches — his thumb drags tight circles over her clit, making her hips jerk.
“The delivery boy. Remember him? He pulled up the driveway, staring at me like he’d never seen tits before,” she giggled.
She laughs — a filthy, dreamy sound that makes Mark’s cock twitch against her fist.
“I leaned in and said, ‘All you have to do is ask, you know. I’m not gonna say no if you wanna bend me over in the back of that van,’” she teased.
She bites her lip — her hips lift, grinding down on his knuckles like she’s showing him how the kid had her.
“He was stunned — like I’d slapped him. ‘Really?’ he said. ‘Yeah,’ I told him, ‘you want to?’ He just nodded — we went in the back, I bent over a box… and he got on his knees behind me,” she moaned.
She moans, lashes fluttering.
“Ate me from behind — wouldn’t stop. Kept telling me how sweet my pussy was, how good my ass looked when I pushed back on his face. Made me so hot…” she breathed.
Mark grunts — his voice low, rough, right at her ear.
“Hmmm. Until he gave you that long cock, huh?” he snarled.
She giggles — her hand squeezes him, dragging a wet moan out of her own throat.
“Fuck, yeah. That thing was long. He had to back up just to line the head up — I was like, ‘Damn, you’ve got a long dick…’ Wasn’t thick, but long,” she said.
Her pussy clenches — the slick sound fills the room when he pumps his fingers deeper.
“He fucked me with these slow, deep strokes… holding that cum back like his life depended on it,” she breathed.
She rolls her hips, breath catching when he grinds his thumb right over that spot that makes her gasp.
She drags her fist up his cock — slow, teasing, watching him twitch with that dark look on his face.
Her voice dips into a giggle — breathless, sticky, her hips rocking onto his fingers while she strokes him.
“Damn, Mark… your cock’s getting harder,” she teased.
She squeezes the head just right — her pussy flutters around his knuckles when she sees the flush climb his neck.
“Mmm, you like my slut moments, huh? Fuck… damn, baby — this is hard,” she moaned.
Mark snarls — the sound low, twisted up with how much he hates it and loves it.
“Yeah, it’s hot. You… you’ve been doing hot wife shit,” he growled.
He drags his thumb across her clit, feels the slick gush over his fingers.
She lets out a cracked moan — her eyes flick down to where he’s throbbing in her hand.
“You’re wet too, girl. Fuck… I should slide my cock in this wet cunt,” he growled.
She giggles — rolls her hips up, the mess dripping onto his wrist.
“Yeah… go ahead. It wants cock. You know I fucking love cock,” she moaned.
Mark shoves his fingers out — lines the fat head up against her dripping slit, pushes in slow and deep, a rough growl in his throat when she gasps and clamps down.
The wet slap echoes — her legs wrap around his hips, the bra strap slipping down her arm as she rocks up to meet every thrust.
“Mmmm… that delivery boy. He fucked you slow, huh?” he snarled.
Her laugh melts into a filthy moan — her nails dig into his forearm while his cock drags in and out of her, so slick it sounds obscene.
“Mmm, yeah… so slow. So deep. He was so proud — holding that cum back like it mattered,” she moaned.
Mark’s thrusts snap rougher — the headboard thuds against the wall.
“Bet he begged for it,” he said.
Her pussy clenches — she throws her head back, giggling through a ragged gasp.
“He did. Begged to stay in when he came. But you know me, baby… I’d already decided I wanted more,” she teased.
Mark’s hips snap harder — the wet slap of his cock pounding into her drips through the air like a dirty soundtrack.
She’s a mess under him — hair wild, tits bouncing out of the lace, voice breaking into sweet, wrecked giggles.
He leans in — mouth close to her ear, his voice low and dark.
“So that delivery boy — long dick, huh?” he growled.
She moans, squeezes him tighter with her pussy — just hearing it makes her hips roll up for more.
“Mmm… yeah… long… slow… but—” she whimpered.
His laugh rumbles out, mean and teasing. He drags his thumb down her cheek, smearing sweat across her jaw.
“But what? Didn’t fill you, did he? Not thick enough for this sloppy cunt…” he snarled.
She gasps — the shame and the rush twisting together until she’s giggling through every moan.
“N-no… not thick… just long. I could’ve taken more, baby…” she moaned.
He grunts — thrusts rougher, the wet slap echoing. His next words come out like a dare.
“Yeah? So tell me — you ever get it thick? Thick and long, huh? Who stretched this greedy pussy the way you really want it?” he demanded.
She bites her lip — lashes fluttering when his cock drags over that sweet spot that makes her toes curl.
She moans when his hips slam into her — her nails scratch down his chest, her giggle a breathy mess.
“Two black guys. At soccer practice with their kids,” she breathed.
She laughs again — embarrassed but soaking wet, her pussy fluttering around him.
“I was just helping the kids, Mark… giving instructions, bending over in my tight shorts. I didn’t think they’d really say anything,” she giggled.
Mark grunts — his voice rough in her ear.
“What’d they say?” he growled.
She bites her lip — her hips roll, milking him deeper.
“Came up after. Told me I was hot. I thanked them, teased, ‘Bet you say that to all the moms…’” she said.
She giggles — then her voice drops to a hush.
“One of them looked me dead in the eye — said, ‘Not all the moms look fuckable like you. You’d be a dream fuck,’” she breathed.
Mark growls — his hand fists her hair.
“And you just let them?” he snarled.
She shivers, her thighs squeeze around him.
“You know me, Mark. I love cock. I told them maybe they should find out,” she whispered.
He snarls — his cock jerks inside her, the slap of wet skin louder every thrust.
“They followed me back here. Two big black cocks. Didn’t even waste time — they bent me over this bed, pulled my shorts to the side…” she moaned.
She gasps — her breath catching when he slams deep.
“One in my mouth… the other pounding my pussy. Switching. I was dripping. I swear they had me bouncing like a toy,” she breathed.
Mark’s breath tears out of him — his hand tight on her hip, forcing her to take every inch.
“Both at once. Fuck…” he groaned.
She giggles — that soft, filthy sound.
“Mmm, yeah. One bent me over so deep my cheek was pressed to the mattress. The other pressed my head down — made me swallow him ‘til I gagged,” she said.
She arches — her voice goes soft, dreamy, like she’s still there.
“The tall one pinned me against the wall after — lifted my leg, fucked me so hard I thought he’d break through it. I was shaking when he stopped. Then the other just picked me up — straddled him. He bounced me in mid-air, dropping me on that cock ‘til I screamed,” she moaned.
Mark snarls — his thrusts lose rhythm, every wet slap louder than the last.
“They finish in you?” he growled.
She moans — the sound raw, wrecked.
“One all over my face — dripping down my tits. The other deep inside. Filled me up so much it leaked out for hours,” she gasped.
She giggles again — so nasty it makes his cock swell.
“Mmm… they said next time they’d bring a friend. Maybe they will, baby. You’d love to see that, wouldn’t you?” she teased.
Mark snarls. The sound rips out of him, low and savage. He grips her hips tight, slamming into her like he’s trying to pound out every cock she’s ever taken.
The slap of wet skin fills the room. Her tits bounce out of the lace, her moans sharp and helpless.
“Oh my god, Mark. Pound this pussy like they did. Yes. Yes. Baby. Hit it. Hit it. Hit it,” she cried.
Her nails dig into his back. Her thighs quiver, slick soaking him down to the base.
She gasps, voice wrecked, no shame left.
“You sure you don’t wanna watch? Watch me get it all over again, baby?” she moaned.
Mark growls, breath jagged, hips snapping rough and deep.
“Fuck… say it,” he snarled.
She moans. Long, raw, almost sobbing when he drives deeper.
“Oh baby. Hit it. Ohhhhhh fuck. I’m cumming. Mark. Fuck. I’m cumming,” she wailed.
His snarl grates through clenched teeth.
“Yeah. Bitch. Come. Come on this cock. I know you’ll go fuck again, huh?” he growled.
She moans louder. The words tumble out between ragged breaths.
“Oh my god. It turns you on. I’m gonna get railed again. Come home and tell you every filthy thing. Fuck, Mark. I’m cumming, baby. Cumming,” she gasped.
His thrusts get mean. Cock swelling inside her, the slick slap echoing.
“How much cock this time, huh? While I’m gone… how much?” he snarled.
Her moan breaks. High. Needy.
“Two. Maybe three. Four. Fuck. Maybe five. Fill me up. All of them. I’ll come home dripping. Tell you every detail. Fuck me, Mark,” she moaned.
Her pussy leaks all over him. Hot and sticky, splashing down his thighs when he pounds her deep.
“I’m gonna let them fuck me so hard. Fuck me, Mark. Beat my pussy up now. Beat it,” she whimpered.
He snarls. Hips a blur, each thrust hammering her breathless.
“You fucking shit. Beating my pussy like this. Fucking shit. Beat it. You fucker. Ohhhhhh god. I’m cumming. I’m cumming. Mark. Fuck,” she wailed.
Mark’s roar tears the air apart. His hips slam once. Twice. He buries himself so deep she arches off the bed, shaking when he spills inside her — thick, hot spurts flooding her pussy while she milks him, a helpless moan stuck in her throat. Her slick leaks around him, soaking the sheets, her breath coming in broken gasps.
For a moment, there’s only the wet hush of their bodies — stuck together, raw, used up.
She shivers under him, nails dragging lazy lines down his back. Her lips curl in a faint, wrecked smile.
“Mmm… you know there’s always more, baby…” Vanessa whispered.
Mark grunts. He hates how true it is — hates how the thought makes his cock twitch, still half-hard inside her.
A week later…
They’re at dinner — her idea. She made him take her to that fancy steakhouse across town. She wore that little black dress he hates because everyone else loves it. No panties. Her hair curled perfect, lips slick with gloss that catches every man’s eye when she leans over the table, whispering how she still tastes his cum from last time.
He’s half-hard all through dessert. She giggles when she catches him glaring at the waiter who couldn’t stop staring at her tits.
They don’t even make it halfway home.
Sitting in the passenger seat… that sweet perfume on her neck, wicked sparkle in her eyes.
“Pull over,” Vanessa says.
Mark grunts, knuckles white on the wheel. “What?”
She giggles — the same giggle that ruins him every time.
“I wanna suck your dick. Right here. Before we go home,” she purrs.
She slips out of her seatbelt, climbs halfway across the console. Her nails pop his belt, her palm wrapping around him, already half-hard.
The windows fog in seconds.
She strokes him slow — her lashes low, her voice a whisper over the wet slide of her hand.
“Mmm. You want it dirty, baby?” she teases.
She dips her head, tongue teasing his tip — a soft flick that makes his hips twitch.
“Promise you’ll cum in my mouth. I’ll tell you something filthy I did. One last thing…” she murmurs.
Mark grunts. He can’t say no — he doesn’t want to.
Her lips wrap around him — warm, wet, sucking him deeper until his breath stutters.
She hums around his cock — then pulls back, spit shining her lips, eyes glinting.
“Remember your friend’s birthday? That night you left early?” she says.
Mark snarls — his hand fists her hair. “What about it?”
She slides him back between her lips, then pulls off with a pop, voice dreamy.
“I stayed after… his brother cornered me in the kitchen. Told me he’d been wanting to know if I taste as good as I look,” she says.
She moans — her tongue flicking under his head, her throat open for him.
“I sucked him right there, Mark. On my knees. Dress up, tits out — swallowed every drop. You were texting me the whole time… telling me you were on your way back,” she breathes.
Mark’s hips jerk — he tries to pull away, but she drags him deeper, sucking him down until his cock twitches on her tongue.
“Mmm. You love it. You love knowing… filthy slut wife, huh?” she purrs.
She bobs her head slow — wet, obscene — the sloppy sound filling the steamed-up car.
Mark’s breath breaks. He snarls through his teeth. “Fuck… swallow it. You want it? Take it.”
Her eyes flutter. She moans, mouth stretched wide.
“Mmm. Yes, baby. Give me all of it…” she groans.
His hips jerk — she feels him throb, thick pulses flooding her mouth. She holds it, savoring it, throat working around every drop. When he’s done, she pulls off slow — a tiny string of spit snapping as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
She leans up — hair a mess, lips swollen, eyes soft but wicked.
“Take me home, baby…” she whispers.
She laughs under her breath — a soft, filthy sigh that curls right into his gut.
“You know there’s always one more story… but I’ll always come home to you,” she says.