Daily Use

It's usually after the evening meal. Not my favourite time, I used to feel too full to get turned on. I told him that, and he shrugged and said 'So eat less'. Which told me how it was going to be. I took his advice, sort of; I have a bigger lunch these days. And now I know what he likes when he gets home, I do dress up for it; if he looks up from his food, I'll be in a push-up bra and a low cut neckline, slowly toying with a few mouthfuls. He's always horny at that time whatever I do, but that tells him I've thought about what he's going to do to me, and that pleases him.

I sit there until he's finished, and he gets up to put the plates on the side, and because I'm well-trained now, there's already a pulse beating in my pussy and I can be pretty sure I'm getting wet. I sit still because it won't go well for me if I get up, or even if I squirm a little.

So today looks like it's a normal Tuesday, and he looks at me like he wants to fuck me. He doesn't hang around. He comes over and runs his hand down my hair until I feel him gripping the whole weight of it. I can't move my head. There's no pain - I don't do pain - I just can't move. Arousal jumps inside me.

He puts a little weight into his grip and my head slowly tips up. He adjusts the angle, unzips himself with his other hand, and brings his cock to my lips. He's a little more than half erect. His cock tastes a little of the long day, which I don't like, but I'm so well trained that it doesn't occur to me to protest. I put the tip of my tongue out and lap the head of his cock, once, then again. He shifts his weight and I see his face change, becoming more serious. He will regain his sense of humour in a while, but at the moment he's still not quite let go of the working day. It's my job to make sure it's blasted out of his mind.

He puts his hand on my right breast. I know he spends a lot of time thinking about my tits. He must have enough photos of them to fill a server. Photos of them naked, photos of them with his spunk running down them and dripping off the nipples, photos of them pushed together with his cock buried between them (lots of those). Photos of him licking them. Of other men licking them while he stands over us both, deep inside me. Other men only get to handle my tits or wank over them, he doesn't let them fuck me. They're fine with that.

He still has a hand on my hair. I've had orgasms purely thinking about his hands taking charge of me. At last he lets go of my hair, holds both my breasts, squeezing them with the nipples pressing against the bases of his thumbs. He's watching the way they change shape, feeling the fullness of them. I slide my lips over the head of his cock, going slowly because I know he's going to speed up. The length of his cock drives into my mouth now and he grunts as he feels the head reach the hot base of my tongue. Based on how wide it is forcing my lips open, he is properly hard now.

I said I don't do pain, and I meant it, but his hands gripping my breasts aren't exactly feather light, and his big thick cock pushes my jaw open a fraction more than is comfortable. But I'd still call it intense sensation, not pain, and it's such a turn on. His confident use of me, his unrelenting drive to have me, is so erotic. Now I can feel his foreskin sliding between my tongue and his cock head, and I think, if he's not careful he'll come in a minute. But he is careful. He doesn't want to come yet. So he slows the movement to almost nothing. He reaches out somewhere behind me, picks up his phone and takes a picture. I see it later. My eyes half closed, my mouth stretched round the expanse of his shaft, then filling the bottom of the frame my breasts, firm and pink from his handling, my nipples red. But not red enough for him.

He slides his cock out of my mouth and starts to pull on my nipples. He likes them to look really dark. He is so focused on them, every day,.that they are tender nearly all the time. I gasp and groan a little as he pulls again. He does only use his fingertips, so it shouldn't hurt, but the slow pressure on top of yesterday's activities, and the day before that, is right on the edge for me. I hunch my shoulders a little. He loves it when I get protective of them. I see him smile now. He steps to my side and presses my back to lean me forward so that my breasts are reflected in our mirrored table. He had it made for us. Now he opens the big drawer in the table amd pulls out his gloves; the rough surface that I dread and love. 'Stand up' he says. He's behind me now, leaning over me, his gloved hand working faster on my breasts, my nipples turning the dark red that he wants to see. And although the sensation is really difficult to take, it's the glove that tips me over, that and his legs and stomach pressed against me. I can feel that my pussy is wide open now, soft and wet, ready for him.

He might do almost anything with me at this point. He could plunge his gloved fingers inside me. He could film my pussy dripping wet with his fingers briskly jerking in and out. He could just stand there until I beg. But it's an ordinary Tuesday, so I feel him position his cock ready and it slides into me.

'OHHHHHHHH FUCK' I say, because thank goodness it isn't any part of his worldview that I have to pretend I don't crave having him inside me. He's not inclined to delay any longer, so he rails me, his hot hard cock sliding and battering me until I am a wet swollen mass. I'm begging him to bring me off, getting noisier, and at long last his fingers reach my clitoris, pulling wetness from my pussy, and he does the movement I need and I can't bear it... and the wave hits me. He feels the jolt through my body and slams me forward onto my forearms over the table, amd his last few thrusts feel like they are going to take my head off. He unloads into me like a firehose.

He recovers more quickly than me and inevitably takes some pictures. My drenched, wide open pussy, with my juices making it shine, and his production draning out of me and covering my inner thighs. My breasts,.squashed under me and reflected in the table surface. My.mouth hanging open as I try to stand up on shaky post-coital legs. His hug turns into something like a carer's support. He has to cut his kiss short to let me breathe hard.

'I like Tuesdays,' he says,.and laughs.