Sex with Laila was always dirty, but when she whispered in my ear mid-fuck that she'd be wanting my ass next, my pussy clutched itself around her hand so hard I expected her knuckles to come out bruised. I rode out my climax, my fingers lost in her raven-black hair as colours collided in my brain, my muscles flexing to the rhythm of her last strokes inside of me. Then she surprised me again by turning me over on my stomach, my backside bare and, seemingly, all hers. I'd gathered she meant next time she fucked me. I just hadn't presumed that to happen so quickly.
Laila was in charge in the bedroom and in the kitchen, the two rooms of our flat where I was merely required to serve, to not take any initiative. I was a sous-chef at best in both places, but my pleasure always came first. I was well-fed and satisfied, living on a diet of expertly spiced dishes and my girlfriend's delicious golden-brown fingers buried in my cunt at regular intervals. So far, she'd only teasingly ventured in the direction of my ass.
She covered my naked body with hers, her soft flesh moulding into mine.
"Your ass is mine tonight," she hissed into my ear, while spreading my legs with her knee. I wondered what she meant with 'mine'. Would she just lick it, finger it maybe, or rely on other objects? Or all of that combined? I knew better than to ask. In the bedroom, Laila did all the talking.
When she pushed herself away from my ear, her taut nipples grazed the skin of my back. They swirled patterns along my spine until they reached my ass cheeks. As Laila guided one nipple along my crack, and despite the slamming orgasm she'd just delivered, I felt myself go moist again. This was more than sex. This was breaking boundaries.
I gasped as she parted my cheeks and allowed her nipple to explore a little further. I imagined how the caramel of her skin—and the dark chocolate of her nipple—contrasted with the creamy whiteness of my behind. The gentle probing of her stiff bud was enough to make my asshole pucker with anticipation and, first time or not, to grant her unlimited access to the unchartered territory that my ass represented. Not that she would ever ask. Laila appropriated things. She took them because, within the dynamic of our sex life, they simply belonged to her. Our affair was not complicated. She fucked me and I came.
Her long hair tickled my back and, regardless of not being able to see her, I could easily imagine the smirk edged around her mouth. I'd witnessed it enough, usually with a few of Laila's fingers sunk into me, to know its details by heart. Two fine lines bracketing her lips on the right as they curled up. Intensity burning in her eyes as she got off on my pleasure—and how I always, so easily, acquiesced.
She slipped one hand between my legs, under my pelvis, and found my clit, still a little sensitive from the previous round. Her nipple gently probed my crack while she circled a finger around my clit. Once, twice, just enough to make it perk up and want more, before retreating and focusing on my back door again. Laila was an expert at driving me crazy and, thus, at making me want things I never even knew existed before I met her—like a fist in my cunt and metal clamps on my nipples.
The room smelled of orgasms had and climaxes still to be bestowed. A heady perfume of anticipation blending with dirty delight.
On the way back up from teasing my clit, she coated her finger with juices dripping from my cunt. She traced a line from my pussy to my asshole and replaced her nipple with a wet fingertip. After dark, I always felt as if all of me belonged to Laila, no exceptions. That she could do whatever she wanted. Possess me, cuff me, whip me. This sensation multiplied by a hundred when she circled the meaty part of her finger along my most delicate passage. If Laila would ever ask me to marry her, this would be how she'd do it. By claiming me as hers, completely.
She entered slowly, letting my body adjust to the newness of what she was doing. My clit throbbed and my muscles tensed as the tip slipped in, invasive but welcome at the same time. I had no reference point for this, no prior experience to measure these sensations against. My asshole sucked at her finger as she pried deeper. I could hear her pant as she worked me with controlled excitement, which was pretty much the essence of Laila.
Before going deeper, she pulled out and started the circular motion again, drawing perfect circles around my rim. Laila knew me so well, as if she could read my body. She knew I'd be wanting more soon. I always wanted more of her.
This time, she pushed her finger in and out, just far enough to have me gasp for air every time she penetrated, stretching my asshole. No doubt preparing it for what was to come.
