Canvas

You grab her by the back of the head and shove your cock into her mouth.

No warning. No build-up. Just your hand fisted in her hair and the wet, choking sound she makes when you hit the back of her throat. Her glasses fog instantly. Saliva pools at the corners of her lips and spills down her chin, and you don't stop, don't ease up, don't give her a single fucking second to adjust. You pull out long enough to smear yourself across the lens of her glasses, drag the head of your cock over her bottom lip, and paint her mouth white.

She swallows what she can. Looks up at you through the mess on her lenses.

"Is that all you got?"

The audacity of this girl. Your cum is still dripping off her chin and she's calling you a coward. A loser. One round and you're done? She tilts her head, this little angle that's calculated to piss you off, and there's something behind her eyes that isn't bravado. It's a dare. Genuine, electric, almost mean.

So you shut her up.

Your cock goes back in her mouth and this time you don't stop at her throat. You hold her there. Feel her gag around you, feel the involuntary spasm of her trying to breathe with nowhere for the air to go. Tears bead at the corners of her eyes, spilling over, fogging up her lenses from the inside. That's how you know you're doing this right. She's the one who baited you into round two. She manufactured this.

You pin her arms behind her back with one hand. Not because she's trying to push you off. Because you know she'll try to touch herself and you're not giving her that. Not yet.

Evil? Sure. But she started it.

You can see her thighs glistening from here. Her underwear's still on and the fabric is dark with it, soaked through, barely functional as clothing anymore. The mess she's making has nothing to do with her mouth and everything to do with what you're doing to the rest of her. You can see exactly how wet she is and it makes you want to do something about it.

Later.

She's whimpering now. Or trying to. The sound can't really get past your cock so it comes out as this muffled, wet vibration against your shaft that makes your hips stutter. You're more in her throat than her mouth at this point, holding her down between thrusts so deep her nose presses flat against your stomach.

Her oxygen is not your concern right now.

Her eyes are going glassy. You can see it even through the ruined lenses, this slow retreat happening behind her pupils like she's checking out of her own body. But she doesn't tap. Doesn't fight. Her fingers twitch behind her back where you've got them pinned and that's the only sign she's still in there.

You give her a fraction of a second. Pull back just enough for one ragged inhale. She coughs, and saliva pours out of her mouth, this long unbroken string that hits the floor and keeps going. You watch it pool between her knees. She's barely gotten a breath in before you're back, forcing yourself into her throat again, and the sound she makes is somewhere between a gag and a sob.

You start alternating. Five seconds of fucking her face with everything you've got, then you go still. Just sit there, buried in her throat, and let her feel the weight of it. Fifteen seconds of nothing while she struggles to breathe around you. Then right when she thinks she's figured out the pattern you switch it up. Three seconds of aggression. Twenty seconds still. Ten and ten. She can't anticipate you and that's the point.

There's a moment where her body goes completely slack. Not relaxed. Slack. Like whatever was keeping her upright just switched off. Time's doing something funny for her. You can tell because her eyes aren't tracking anymore, just staring at a fixed point somewhere past your hip, and you're not sure she knows which parts of this are happening and which parts are the spaces in between. But her throat is still tight and warm and her tongue still moves weakly against the underside of your cock, so you keep going.

She called you over. She asked for this. She dared you to go harder and you're just giving her what she wanted. You'd be a bad person if you stopped now, honestly.

Her hair is wrecked. Strands plastered to her face with spit and sweat and whatever else, sticking to her neck, to your fingers where you've got her held in place. Total disaster. Her fault for provoking you. Well. Your fault for doing it. But it had to be done.

The glasses survived though. That's the thing that gets you. Through all of it, the fucking glasses stayed on. They're opaque at this point, layers of fog and spit and cum clouding the lenses until she probably can't see anything, and her face is flushed a deep red, sweat beading along her hairline, but the frames are still sitting on her nose like nothing happened.

You let her breathe. Really breathe this time.

Her arms are dead weight. Her face is a mess of expression that doesn't add up to anything coherent. She tries to make a sound and what comes out is this thin, reedy thing, barely there, more breath than voice. It does something to you. Seeing her like this, this used, this far past the point of putting up a fight. She's a fuckdoll that's been played with until the batteries died and somehow that's the hottest thing you've ever seen.

You could keep using her mouth forever. You really could. But at some point it occurs to you that it'd be easier to destroy her if you actually made her come.

You push her down onto her back and pull off her underwear. They're done. Ruined beyond saving. She squirted at least twice during all of that, maybe more, and the fabric is so saturated it barely holds together when you peel it off her skin.

Works great as a gag though. You ball them up and push them into her mouth.

She bites down on them. Weakly. Enough that they stay.

Your cock slides into her and her whole body jolts. She's awake now. Her eyes snap open and she tastes herself on the underwear jammed between her teeth and she realizes you're already pounding into her, no preamble, no adjustment period, just your cock stretching her out while she was still coming back to herself.

Her walls clamp down. It's almost painful how tight she gets, this sudden vise grip that makes you grit your teeth and push through it anyway. She squeals into the gag. You don't stop. Don't slow down. Gowon's comfort is not what this is about.

She's getting off on it. Every squeal is a green light and she's getting wetter by the second, impossibly wetter, soaking the sheets underneath her as you pound her hard enough to turn her cheeks red. Flushed and ruined and making sounds she'd be embarrassed about if she could hear herself.

You could make her redder.

Your left hand finds her clit. Aggressive, no finesse, just direct pressure while your right hand cracks against her thigh. Then higher. You slap her tit and the sound is louder than you expected. You get bold. Your palm connects with her face, not hard enough to hurt, hard enough to wake her the fuck up, and her eyes fly open. Tears start rolling. Real tears, not the reflex kind from gagging, but the kind that come from being overwhelmed by every sensation at once.

She loves it. You know this because you can feel it. Every time your hand connects with her skin, her pussy clenches and a fresh rush of wetness spills out of her. Her body is telling you everything her mouth can't.

She spasms hard enough to force you out. Goes limp, squirting, thighs shaking, and you push right back in before she can finish. Overstimulation. That's what she's after. That's why you tease her nipples between your fingers, pinch and roll until she's arching off the bed. You like the marks your hands leave. Handprints in white and red, scattered across her thighs, her tits, her ass. Some clean, some overlapping. A map of everywhere you've been.

She's giving out. You pull the underwear from her mouth and they're still drenched, somehow wetter than when you put them in. You hold them over her face and squeeze. Slow. Watch each drop fall onto her tongue. She swallows when the last of it's gone and you stuff them back in.

She's struggling. Not against you. Against her own body. The teasing's done. You're past that. Now you just want her to feel this tomorrow. Next week. Want her to sit down wrong and remember exactly what you did to her.

Your eyes land on the one part of her you haven't touched.

Lube's somewhere. Probably. You don't look for it. There's enough. She's been leaking since the first five minutes, this constant drool of slick that's made a mess of everything south of her navel. You drag your fingers through it, barely prep her, two fingers for maybe five seconds before you pull them out and line yourself up.

Your tip pushes against her and something in her wakes up. A little flash of life, her body going taut, hips trying to pull away on instinct even though the rest of her is pinned.

It's tight. Obscenely tight. You almost can't get the head in.

You're not stopping.

Whimpers first. Then screams. The underwear falls out of her mouth and you hear all of it unfiltered for a few seconds, this raw, feral sound that bounces off the walls. You let her have that. Let her breathe out and feel what it's like getting split open. Then you stuff her mouth again.

You start pounding. No rhythm. No pattern. Just the dumb, animal need to be as deep inside her as you can get. You want to tease her more, do something clever with your hands, but you're past that. All you can do is grip Gowon's hips and fuck her.

You can feel bruises forming under your fingers. Love marks. You'll both look at them tomorrow and she'll roll her eyes and you'll grin and neither of you will talk about what actually happened.

When she's bed-ridden in the morning, moving slow, wincing when she sits, she'll laugh it off. She always does.

Your release is taking forever and it's pissing you off. She keeps leaking. Her pussy is a fucking faucet, dripping down the backs of her thighs, and every time you find a rhythm she shifts and you lose it. Slapping her ass doesn't help. Just makes her squirm more. The room already smells like her and it's only going to get worse and you can't bring yourself to care.

Your hand closes around her throat. Tight. Tighter. Her body goes stiff for a second and then something gives. She melts into it. Sinks into the mattress, goes soft under your grip, and the tighter you squeeze the more she relaxes. Like this is exactly what she needed to let go.

Your orgasm builds low in your gut.

You're close. You can feel it. Gowon's body has gone quiet under you, barely a reaction to anything, just the sound of skin on skin filling the room in her silence.

You come inside her. It's violent. Your load forces you out of her ass, thick ropes of it streaking across her arched back. You grab her hips and flip her over. The rest lands on her stomach. Long, messy lines of white across her skin.

You're still hard. Barely. Enough to pull the gag from her mouth and push your cock between her lips. She opens for you, automatic, eyes half-closed. Takes you all the way down without being told. Tastes the cocktail of everything that's happened in the last hour. She doesn't fight it. Doesn't even move. Just holds you in her mouth while the last of it drains out of you in slow, diminishing pulses.