True Sex Stories: Fucked To Death

Because you might as well go out with a bang.

The first part of our evening was utter sensuousness. It was lovey-dovey and nice.

As we sat quietly doing our pre-bedtime wind-down he said "I'm feeling sleepy," but somewhere on the way to bed he got inspired. He prepared me for a hard spanking, moved me into position, listened me to me whimper, and then without him hitting me at all I began to squirt. He is so inside my head! He laughed and lay down with an engorged cock.

"You know what to do."

And I do. I love sucking his cock. Pleasuring him this way is so intimate. I have a perverse pride in knowing that when we first met he told me that cocksucking didn't do anything for him – and now it does. I do it just how he likes it, with lots of focus on his cock head. He enjoys the sense of control when he fucks my face, but what he really enjoys is me sucking and licking him.

I realised that he was going to fuck me mostly because I was so tender. My hypersensitive clit had had some recovery time, but it was still reacting strongly and he wanted to play with that. Because he can.

Trying to remember back now it becomes a blur. I have snippets of images as he fucked me and fucked me and fucked me. He made me come and squirt, and fucked me some more. He fucked me until I came screaming. He fucked me until I went rigid like a board. He fucked me holding me by my throat. (God I love that.) He fucked me by my hips. He fucked me until it hurt, held me close, and then he fucked me some more. He fucked me as I flailed in pleasure/pain as I came and came again. He fucked me until I cried, kissed me and tenderly closed his arms around me, and then he started fucking me harder. He fucked me so deeply that all I was aware of was how hard his cock was hitting my cervix.

He fucked me as I quietly said please stop. He considered it, and I knew it was entirely his choice: he would fuck me more if he wanted to.

"I think that is enough."

I didn't move. We both knew it was going to hurt for me to get off of him.

"Quickly or slowly?"

"Quickly."

It hurt like hell.

I could say that I had been fucked to death but, being my literal self, I realise that I was nowhere near. I try to imagine the intensity of fucking that results in death. Blood fills my mind for a split second. No, this was not fucking to death, but it was more intense than anything I have ever experienced.

The moral for me here is to beware of my nice, quiet boyfriend saying "I'm feeling sleepy."

Republished with permission from SapioSlut. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact us. Photo by John B. Root.