Fast. I am a fast girl. Brief, efficient, concentrated, shocking. Like a well-aimed hex hitting its mark. Some might call me a slut or a whore, a scarlet woman.
But not George.
He understands my sense of adventure, my need for unbridled excitement and competition.
He understands me. He understands my need to wear one mask during the day away from him or around others and he understands what happens when that mask comes off.
And he still wants me.
“Fucking gods!” I scream when he shoves himself inside me. The penetration, it is the penetration I crave. The orgasm is only the bonus. It is the fucking I want, always has been.
“Such a foul little mouth you have, Wonton,” George purrs as he rams his body firmly up and into my crotch. “Do you kiss you lover with that dirty little mouth of yours?”
“I suck his cock with it too,” I gasp at his invasion and he grins wickedly at my reply. “Suck him off, all the time, with my dirty…,” he thrusts, pulls back and freezes at my words, “Little,” I gasp at another thrusting blow from his hips before he nearly retreats completely from my cunt.
He reaches down to one of my nipples and pinches viciously.
“Say it, say it dirty or no more fucking for you,” he orders me and pinches down again.
“Fucking mouth!” I shriek in pleasure and pain as George slams into me with such force that my arse inches up the desk. But he will have none of that.
“Oh no you don’t,” he says as he releases my throbbing nipple to hook his arms under my knees and hoists my bottom off the desk’s surface again. He yanks me back toward him so that my arse hovers past the edge of the desk, the hard wood digging into the small of my back.
Pleasure, pain, pleasure, pain…
Then he lets go, pounding relentlessly into me, almost brutally. I love it. I love it. Fucking like this…I have no physical control over him but he does exactly what I want him to do.
“Oh Merlin, George, fuck me, please, oh god, fuck me,” I cry, and for a bit of dramatic flair that I know will drive him to a crazed frenzy, I arch my neck stiffly, the muscles in strong enough to lift my shoulders off the polished wood.
“Oh fuck, that rules,” he groans in response.
I can see the office, its white walls and over-large window, inverted, swaying back and forth in my topsy-turvy sight. “I surely do spend a lot of time fucking George while I am upside-down.” I think before an airy giggle escapes me. I reach blindly for George but our upper bodies are too far apart.
“Cho, fuck, you ought to see this,” he groans and I feel him hunch his arms more tightly in the soft behind my knees. “Down,” he gasps, “Reach straight down.”
And when I do our hands collide and our fingers lock around each other’s wrists. A jostle, then two later our grip on each other is firm and unbreakable. I release the tension in my neck and lower my shoulders to the cold, sweaty surface and look up at George. He stare intently, wildly down at me as we pull and push at each other, our bodies slapping together where we are joined.
The sound of us gasping for breath echoes through the mostly empty office, great gulps of air escape my lungs as I watch George biting his bottom lip.
“You are biting your bottom lip again,” I say with a soft laugh.
“Fuck!” he growls and licks his lips, “I hate that.” Now he clenches his jaw and closes his eyes in concentration. “I look like a fucking chav when I do that. Shit!” I giggle and our hands grip and pull on each other’s arms for a tighter position.
“Shut up and come!” I shout but fear it only comes out as a desperate growl.
“You first,” he says frantically.
“No, not me,” I whisper, “Not this time. Just wanna fuck.” The hold we have on each other keeps me from slipping up the table and away from him; it also adds amazing depth to George’s penetration. “Just fuck,” I moan, “George, oh gods, please!”
Frenetic, hysteric, mad, fevered, our coupling continues, the beat a driving song in a hot smoky room. Again, again, again, again, a drum beat, repeating, repeating in a crowd of delirious dancers. All focus falls on us and our movement, our pulse, our pull, our push.
Then it snaps.
“Oh my fuck…oh shit, coming,” I cry as a fist of pleasure punches through my body and seizes me…shaking me like an animal shaking its prey in murderous jaws, breaking, snapping every bone. I am screaming and howling and I hear him, he cries back, an echoing shout, deep and desperate as his movement stops. He clenches me to him to the point of pain, his muscles clutching, taut, a low guttural moan issues from his core. He is coming. His face a mess of distraction and release.
I wait, watching as he slowly calms and the steady beat within me brakes and pulls up. In the haze I feel his iron grip let go of me, his shaky hands fumbling up the skin of my arms. He takes my shoulders and lifts me until I sit on the surface of the desk.
George is still inside of me, gradually softening as he slips arms around my waist where he finds the wrinkled muddle binding my middle. We sit like that, breathing coming slower and easier as the minutes pass.
“Wow,” I whisper, “That was….”
“Pretty damn hot, don’t you think?” he asks.
I feel George turn his body a bit as he looks around the room.
“What?” I ask.
“Think Whizzy’ll notice the muck on his desk if we don’t clean it up?”
“We have to clean up or he will know it was us,” I reply.
“How would he know it was us?”
“Because we are the only couple he knows horny enough to do something like this,” I say.
“You’re right,” he replies and hesitates, “Let’s leave the mess anyway.”