Mark My Word

You know he's good when it leaves a mark.

I could tell from the first time we’d fucked that he loved sex; though it appeared he’d never been with a woman who was open to exploring it. All that was about to change. 

The Brit and I had been between the sheets for hours, yet somehow I was craving more. We lay naked, our breath heavy and slow. I reached across his chest and dragged my nails over his skin. He was taken with me in every way, but most especially how I pushed him to explore sex. The Brit would spank me, and I could see his excitement rise. He’d grab my neck and squeeze tightly; he later confessed he’d never that done before, and how much he liked it.

I was half way out the door when I felt his hands on my waist. The Brit lifted me onto his kitchen table, pulled my lace La Perla thong to the side and devoured me, again. He ripped off the lace using his teeth and slid himself inside me, taking me harder than ever before. It felt amazing and even though I was going to be so late for drinks, I wanted him to keep going.

Pulling me off the table, he bent me over the grey leather couch. Ass in the air, he continued to work me until I let go.

I woke up the next morning with giant blue and purple marks across my lower back… If we were going to keep fucking in the kitchen, he was going to have to invest in a new table.