Megan Rose - Perverted Naughty Sluts - 16 Filthy Tales

“What’s so funny?”

“I just think it’s hilarious,” she said.

“What is?”

“The fact that we really don’t need them at all,” Penny said. “They really are only good for their cocks, and like you pointed out earlier, those are easily replaceable.”

“They certainly are,” I said.

But Penny wasn’t done. “I mean, think about it: They don’t know how to kiss. They don’t know where to touch you. And they sure as hell don’t know how to eat pussy. They simply don’t know how to please a woman.”

“Where women, on the other hand, know exactly how and where to touch each other, because we touch ourselves all the time,” I said, picking up where she’d left off.

“Exactly!”

“Plus they only think about themselves,” I added. “As far as they’re concerned, once they’ve cum that’s it. They’re done. It doesn’t make any difference if you’ve gotten off or not.”

“Which brings us to perhaps the best thing about being with another woman,” Penny said, looking at me intently.

I knew exactly where she was going. I was thinking the same thing myself. It was something that came up every time we talked about boys.

“Women don’t have to stop after one orgasm!” we said at exactly the same time.

“We can go all night long without a break,” I added.

“We can indeed.”

I stood up and held out my hand. “Shall we continue, my dear?” I said in a faux-elegant voice.

“We shall,” Penny replied in kind as she took my hand.

I helped her up. “Your room or mine?” I said, leading her towards the hallway.

“Does it matter?” she replied.

“Not at all,” I said, turning towards her. I pulled her close and started kissing her right there in the middle of the living room. “It doesn’t matter in the least.”

And it didn’t. By the end of the night we’d done it in both our rooms. And by the time the weekend was up, the whole house had been desecrated. And we were just getting started.

I love all kinds of women. Tall and skinny or short and stacked. Blonde hair, brown hair, red hair. Dominant, submissive, sexy, sultry, classy, you name it. I’m not super-picky about looks but the one thing I am very picky about it attitude. To be one of my regulars a woman has to truly enjoy fucking. Love it, even. And very few of them love it as much as Gabriella.

At just over 5 feet tall and no more than 100 pounds, Gabriella doesn’t look like she could take a pounding. But her looks are deceiving. She’s got a rocking body, with soft but shapely legs, a great ass, thin waist and small but firm tits. Her Latin heritage is apparent in her long brown hair, dark eyes, soft features, full lips and naturally tanned skin. She’s more cute than slutty and to look at her it would be impossible to guess that she likes it rough.

But to say it like that is to not give it enough credit. She loves rough sex, adores it, can’t get enough of it, in fact. She won’t take it any other way; if you can’t give her what she needs she’ll kick you out, right in the middle of a session. It’s almost happened to me before.

It was our first time together and I was taking it too easy on her, not giving her what she needed. I was trying to be a gentleman, it being our first time fucking and all, and even though she continued imploring me to give it to her harder and smack her around a little bit, I was having trouble following through.

Finally, after twenty minutes of me pussy-footing around, she’d had enough.

“That’s it,” she said, pulling away from me. “Get the fuck out.”

“What?” I asked, surprised as all hell.

“You heard me,” she said. “If you aren’t going to give me what I need, then just get the hell out of here.”

“What do you need?” I asked, perplexed.

“I need you to fuck me like you mean it,” she said. “Get physical with me. Toss me around, smack my ass, that sort of thing.”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“Have you been fucking listening to me at all tonight?” she said, her voice rising. “I’ve been telling you that ever since we started!”

“I didn’t know you wanted it that rough,” I said.

“Well now you do,” Gabriella said. “So I’ll give you one more chance to make things right, and then you’re out for good.”

“Fine,” I said. “But don’t start crying that you can’t take it.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” she said. “I guarantee that won’t be the case.”

So I gave her what she wanted. And after we were done, she invited me to come back over later that week. Now we got together once a week or so to fuck, and I gave her what she needed every time.

“So what’s on tap for tonight?” she asked after letting me into her apartment. It was a nice place, pretty basic, not too much style, just substance. Exactly like Gabriella.

“Whatever you can handle,” I replied.

“You know I can handle whatever you can dish out,” she said, smiling wryly, daring me in her own way, getting me in the right mindset. She was wearing a tight-fitting pink sweater that was long enough to cover her ass, but just barely. Plus black leather boots with four-inch heels that came up over her knee. It was quite the outfit, and it turned me on like crazy just looking at her.

“Is that right?” I said, playing the game.

“Damn straight,” she said, her smile growing wider.

“We’ll see about that,” I said, grabbing a handful of her hair and giving it a sharp tug, bending her backwards so she was looking up towards the ceiling.

Gabriella’s smile widened as she moaned in pleasure. Her eyes twinkled with excitement. She clearly got off on being treated like this; it wasn’t an act.

“You like that?” I asked.

“I love it,” Gabriella replied.

I pulled her sweater off, exposing her perfect little perky tits. Her nipples were hard and sticking out like pencil erasers. I fondled one of her tits and pinched her nipple, eliciting a little gasp. Then I slapped down on it.

Gabriella yelped and shivered in ecstasy.

“Do it again,” she said.

I did it again, harder this time.

“Harder,” she said.

So I did, harder still. And again. And again. Her tit was bright red but she still seemed to be enjoying it. More than ever, in fact.

As was I. My cock was pushing painfully against my pants. This was exciting me just as much as it was her. I pulled up on her hair, snapping her head forward.

She was taking deep breaths but she was still smiling and her eyes were glowing with excitement.

I started walking, dragging her along by the hair as I went. I pulled her over to the wall, spun her around, and pushed her back up against it, then I grabbed ahold of her throat, squeezing just a bit, nothing too serious.

Gabriella’s smile didn’t fade one bit. In fact it grew wider.

“You like this, don’t you?” I said.

Gabriella nodded.

“Are you ready for more?”

She nodded again, her face starting to turn pink.

With one hand still around her throat I slapped her face. The sound filled the room like a gunshot. Little red blossoms flared up on Gabriella’s cheek. But she still smiled.

So I slapped her again. Then I squeezed her throat a little tighter. And slapped her again.

Gabriella’s smile was fading but her eyes were still radiating excitement. Her whole face was turning red now as her blood flow was restricted.

“Do you want me to stop?” I asked.

Gabriella shook her head and mouthed the word no.

So I slapped her again. And again. And again. I was squeezing tighter now, almost completely cutting of the blood flow to her brain.