Her First Fan

Jon listened, wide-eyed and appreciative.

“Layla, the beauty is that we get to do what other people only fantasize about doing.”

After a quick conversation about boundaries and after choosing a “safe word”, Jon transformed into the asshole Layla wanted him to be.

“Look at you. The way that you walk down the hallway, swinging your hips in your short dress, throwing smiles at every man who passes by.”

Jon grabbed Layla by her arms and pulled her toward him. Layla shook her head and struggled to get him off of her.

“Oh, so that’s how you’re going to play it. You’re going to pretend that you don’t want this.” Jon smirked. Jon laughed at Layla.

“Oh, you want this. You want this so bad that you’d give it to anyone, wouldn’t you?”

He worked a hand up into her hair and squeezed his fist closed, controlling even the slightest of her movements. Though her movement was now restricted, Layla tried to shake her head again, this time shouting “No!”

“Playing hard to get, are we?” Jon pushed her down, grabbed her by the thighs and pulled her to the end of the bed. He reached down, drawing two fingers over her underwear, feeling her wetness.

“Look at you, pretending you don’t like this and getting so wet. You’re a slut, that’s what you are. A slut. I’m going to give you what you’ve been wanting and you’re going to enjoy it.”

With that, he ripped off her panties, licked his fingers and pressed them into her entrance. She struggled against him, but he only reached his fingers deeper.

“Slap me,” she said.

Jon gently tapped Layla’s chest and then her legs.

“I said, slap me. Slap my face.” Jon’s moment of hesitation passed and he slapped her hard across the face, causing her to cry out something not entirely understandable.

“That’s how you like it, do you?” Jon asked.

Jon continued working his fingers inside of her, calling her the names he said she deserved that made her twitch as she writhed beneath him.

He pressed his fingers deeper, curling them repeatedly, stimulating the most thrilling of sensations and causing Layla to climax in her first ever g-spot orgasm.

Layla’s muscles suddenly contracted, the walls of her pussy squeezing in tight against Jon’s fingers and she let out a roar – sexy and almost deafening in its carnal intensity. Layla closed her eyes and collapsed in bliss and exhaustion, until she was shook back into the scene by Jon’s grip on her shoulders.

“What do you want from me?” Layla asked.

“Oh, you know what I want. You came once, but you’re a complete slut and you’re going to come again.” Without missing a beat, Jon began pulsating his fingers inside of her, stroking the front wall of Layla’s tight, wet pussy.

“Are you going to tell anyone about this?” Layla asked.

“I’m going to tell everyone,” Jon said. “I’m going to tell everyone in the office about your juicy pussy and how much of a slut you are. Some people are easy, but you’re not easy. Easy would be too good for you. You’re begging for this. You’re worse than a prostitute – at least they get paid.”

With each insult, with each degradation, Layla felt herself getting wetter and more turned on, her muscles closing in and clenching around Jon’s fingers.

“Maybe I should invite the guys in the office over. Do you know what pulling a train means?”

Layla shook her head no as she felt her breath get shorter and shorter.

“It means that one guy will come into this room. Maybe he’ll fuck you, maybe he’ll just touch you, maybe he’ll come inside you. And once he’s done with you, he’ll leave and another guy will come in. He’ll do whatever he wants to you, and then send a third person in. I’ll wait my turn while they get you warmed up and then I’m going to come in and fuck you myself.”

“No. No!” Layla shook her head. She felt the heat in her body rising and her hips involuntarily thrusting upward against Jon’s fingers.

“Yes. Yes. I’m going to make you scream like the slut that you are.”

With that, Jon’s fingers clenched against Layla’s g-spot while his thumb brushed over her clit and she threw her body back as a deep orgasm overtook her.

She lay there, blissful but in another space altogether. Nothing happened and neither of them moved for several moments, as Layla froze savoring the pleasure pumping through her body.

Jon slid to the top of the bed and lay alongside her.

“I think we should end the scene here, okay?” Layla nodded. “Do you know what aftercare is?” Jon asked. Layla shrugged.

Jon took her in his arms and held her. He looked Layla in the eyes and said “I’m here with you now and we are going to lay here together as long as you like. I’m not the bad person from that scene and I love you, okay?” Layla nodded, feeling cared for yet more vulnerable than she ever had in her life.

They lay together for ten or fifteen minutes until Layla returned to herself and – when her mischievous spark returned to her – she climbed on top of Jon and took the lead – licking his dick, gently sucking on and stroking the head of his penis and taking the fullness of his cock inside of her. They were quite adept at maneuvering their bodies and took full advantage of Layla’s ballet background as Jon thrusted himself in and out of her in a handful of positions through the night.

There were many more firsts that night – foot worship, dirty talk, masterful hand jobs – and even just sleeping in a bed with someone not her husband. And as Layla explored each eye-opening first, they played, laughed and fucked until close to 6 in the morning.

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