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You find him already in bed, stretched out like sin—broad chest rising slow, muscles cut sharp in the low light, a lazy hand wrapped around his cock. He’s half-lidded, flushed, the thick length of him already slick with precum as he strokes himself. The second he sees you, that hand stops moving.
“Strip,” he grunts, eyes dark and hungry. “Now.”
You swallow. Heat coils in your belly like it knows what’s coming.
You peel off your clothes under the weight of his gaze, and when you’re bare, he holds a hand out, beckoning. “C’mere, baby. Need you.”
He doesn’t wait for you to climb on. He grabs you, big hands curling around your hips, hauling you onto his chest like you weigh nothing. You squeak, and he smirks—but it’s hungry, not playful. He lies back, cock standing proud between you.
“Wanna use you,” he murmurs, voice thick. “Let me, sweetheart. Let me fuck you the way I need to.”
Your whole body tingles. You nod.
He lifts you like it’s nothing—like you’re his to move, mold, manhandle. He positions you above his cock, the flushed head nudging against your slick folds. One of his hands cups your ass, fingers spreading you open while the other wraps around himself again, guiding the tip to your entrance.
And then he drags you down.
Your vision blacks out for a second.
He’s too big. He always is. Your pussy stretches, throbs, barely able to take him—but fuck, it tries. You sink inch by inch, gasping with every stretch, until you’re seated in his lap, thighs trembling, completely impaled.
“Fuuuck,” Jason groans, his voice shaking. “You feel that? So fuckin’ tight, baby. You grip me like you’re starving for it.”
Your nails dig into his chest for balance, and he lets his hands fall to your waist. Then he moves.
He starts slow—lifting you up just enough to feel the drag, then slamming you back down with a low grunt. You cry out, legs going weak. He doesn’t even notice. Or maybe he does, and he likes it. Likes how tiny you are, how helpless. How he can bounce you on his cock like a toy made just for him.
“You’re so small,” he pants, eyes flicking up to watch your tits bounce with every thrust. “Look at you. Barely stretch around me. You feel it, don’t you? In your belly? All the way up here?”
One big hand slides from your hip to your stomach, pressing down lightly—and fuck, you feel it. The thick, hard length of him inside, deeper than anything should be.
“Jason,” you gasp, head falling forward. “Too much—”
“Nah, baby,” he murmurs, voice dark and tender. “It’s perfect. You take it. You always do. My good girl.”
He shifts his grip—one hand curling around your ribs, the other gripping your ass—and starts to fuck you. Not slow. Not sweet. He fucks up into you with powerful thrusts, using your body like his own personal fleshlight. You can’t even move on your own—he’s doing it all, bouncing you on his cock like you’re weightless.
“You like this?” he growls. “Like bein’ my toy? My tight little fuckdoll I can use when I’m hard and need to cum?”
You scream—a breathless, overwhelmed moan that makes his hips stutter.
Your body is wrecked. You’re drooling, shaking, your pussy fluttering around him with every deep thrust. The obscene sound of slick and skin fills the room. You’re soaking him, soaking yourself, and he’s still not stopping.
His hand moves to your throat—not squeezing, just holding. Claiming. Making you feel even smaller as he uses your body like it’s his personal wet dream.
“I can feel you, baby,” he whispers, eyes burning. “So fuckin’ tight. You were made for me. This sweet little pussy was made to take my cock.”
Your orgasm hits like a tidal wave—no warning, no buildup, just wreckage. You shake, whimpering, nails clawing at his chest as your cunt tightens around him like a vice. He groans, jaw clenching as he fucks you through it, chasing his own release.
When he comes, it’s brutal. His hips snap up and stay there, buried to the hilt, cock twitching as thick ropes of cum flood you. You feel it—hot, deep, too much—and you moan at the fullness, dazed and ruined on top of him.
He doesn’t let you go. He keeps you there, plugged full, still cock-deep inside you, his hand sliding from your throat to the back of your neck as he pulls you down into a kiss—deep and filthy and claiming.
“Not done,” he mutters against your lips. “Not ‘til I’ve filled you again. Gonna keep using this perfect little pussy all night.”
You whimper.
You love it.