It had started as just some idle chat on Kink Social. They’d been exchanging messages for a week or two before they got onto the topic of fantasies. She’d confessed hers: she was into rough sex, but she’d never really gotten it. All her past boyfriends had been too timid to give her what she needed. And so that was her fantasy: to be taken to a hotel room and fucked like a whore, hard and long.
She’d been surprised by his reply. “Well,” he’d written, “if that’s what you want, I bet we can make it happen.”
It had taken a while to organise, of course. They were both busy people – she was a lecturer and he worked in an office. But they had met a couple of times for a coffee, and before long the idea of the fantasy had become… well, a reality.
He booked them a room one evening after work. She arrived first, let herself in and made herself at home. It would be twenty minutes or so before he got there, and she was already nervous. She used the time to check her makeup in the mirror, and to think back on the conversations they’d had.
When he did arrive though, he was on her like a hurricane. Barely was he in the door when he grabbed her by the hair and all but dragged her to the bed. She felt a spike of excitement in her belly as she stumbled and fell to the mattress. It was happening. It was really happening. Then he was on top of her, and they were kissing. He pinned her to the bed and all but ripped her blouse away. She could feel herself wetting up between her legs, and she pressed her thighs together, enjoying the tingling there.
“Oh god,” she moaned. “Fuck me.”
He pressed a hand over her mouth, and then peeled away her skirt. She shivered, caught up in the intensity of it. His fingers found her, pushed into her. He smiled when he felt her wetness. “Good girl,” he murmured.
Then he was turning her over. Pulling her hips up so she was on all fours before him. He slapped her ass hard once, twice, three times. Then his pushed inside of her. She was so wet that he sank in all the way to the hilt. She groaned. He filled her completely, utterly, stretching her out. It hurt, and it was beautiful, and she wanted to cry it felt so good.
He started fucking her. No gentle movements. No tenderness. Just long, hard, deep strokes that made her quake at the knees. He reached forward and tangled a hand into her hair, yanking back to keep her head up. The pain only added to the pleasure. He slapped her ass again with his free hand, and bucked into her, firmly, fast.
“Oh god,” she moaned. She could feel her orgasm building already. She could feel something inside of her overflowing, a dam bursting, a river breaking its banks. She let herself go. “Oh god,” she moaned, as her orgasm swept through her. “Oh god, oh god, oh god.”