My mother certainly never cooked and Ian had a tendency to get violent if he didn’t have a meal on the table after work. Anal sex With one hand he flipped up my skirt so that my arse was bare and pulled down my panties with a jerk
“There’s my little cunt,” he crowed looking down at my pink slit. At home I am the little slut, the bitch, the whore, occasionally just the girl. Opening my eyes I shuffled a little closer and took his softening manhood in my mouth, cleaning off the last traces of cum with my nimble tongue while Ian’s hands wound through my thick hair. Having a cock in my pussy just felt right, like I wasn’t at home without one. I was barely in place, my mouth open as he liked when he directed the first thick string of cum onto my face, right over one closed eye. The kitchen was far from large and most of the space was taken up by a small dining table so a little closer meant he was almost breathing down my neck
“Stew,” I said, keeping my answers short
“Smells
