His Anal Slut Drains Him Completely

Bianca was twenty-four, all soft curves and hungry submission, and she had spent the better part of the afternoon on her knees and then astride Wesley’s lap proving exactly how thoroughly she belonged to him. At thirty-two he was solid, dominant, the kind of man whose voice alone could make her cunt drip. They had been playing like this for months—her throat his personal sheath, her pussy his playground—and tonight the air between them crackled with the next step they had both been circling.

She had just finished fucking him with her throat. Slow at first, then deep and wet and greedy, saliva streaking her chin while she looked up through wet lashes and took him past her gag reflex until her nose pressed to his stomach. Wesley’s thick cock pulsed against her tongue; he gripped her hair and groaned low, holding her there while she swallowed around him. When he finally let her up she gasped, lips shiny, and climbed straight onto him. She sank onto that same cock with her pussy in one long slide, walls fluttering, riding him hard enough that the bedframe creaked. Her tits bounced; she ground down, rolled her hips, clenched deliberately so he could feel every ripple. He was throbbing inside her, desperate, the head of him swollen and leaking, his balls drawn tight from the dual assault of throat and cunt. She could feel how close he was riding the edge, how every squeeze of her pussy made his jaw tighten.

Bianca leaned forward, still full of him, and whispered against his mouth, “Sir… I’ve fucked you with my throat. I’ve fucked you with my pussy. Now it’s time I fuck you with my ass.”

Wesley’s hands flexed on her hips hard enough to bruise. His eyes went dark. “Been waiting for that tight little hole, haven’t you?”

“Months,” she breathed, already lifting off him so his cock slapped wet against his stomach, shiny with her. “I need it. I need to feel you wreck me there and then milk every drop out of you until there’s nothing left.” She was visibly aching—nipples tight, thighs trembling, pussy still twitching around empty air. He was just as bad: cock rigid, veins standing out, a thick bead of precum sliding down the shaft. Mutual, consensual hunger; the power between them always swung both ways once she got this wet and shameless.

She stayed straddling his thighs and reached back, two fingers sliding between her cheeks. She was already slick there from earlier play, but she pushed in anyway, slow, showing him. The stretch made her moan. She worked herself open while he watched, eyes locked on the way her fingers disappeared into that pink pucker.

“I’m going to sit on this cock and take every inch up my ass,” she said, voice filthy and sweet at once. “Going to bounce until I’m squirting everywhere—anal makes me lose it, Sir, you know it does. When I come I’m going to clamp down so hard your balls empty. I’m going to drain you completely. Own that load the same way you own me.” She scissored her fingers, pulled them free shiny, then pushed them back in deeper. Her other hand drifted down to spread her pussy lips so he could see both holes dripping. “Look how wet I am just thinking about it. Going to ride you reverse so you can watch my ass swallow you. Going to make you throb and beg while I milk every drop.”

Wesley’s cock jerked hard against his stomach. He cursed under his breath, reached for the bottle of lube on the nightstand, and slicked himself thickly, fist stroking once, twice. Bianca plucked the bottle from him, poured more into her palm, and coated him again herself—slow, deliberate, twisting at the head until he hissed. Then she turned, presenting her back, knees bracketing his hips. She reached between them, lined the blunt, greased head against her prepared hole, and sank down.

The first inch burned sweet. She moaned, needy and open, easing lower. Her ass stretched around him, tight as a fist, the ring of muscle fluttering and then yielding. Another inch. Another. She bottomed out with a broken sound, ass flush to his hips, every thick vein and ridge buried inside her. The fullness punched the air from her lungs; she could feel him pulsing deep, hotter and harder than he had been in her pussy.

“Fuck—Sir—full,” she whimpered, staying still for three long heartbeats so her body could adjust. Then she lifted and dropped, short strokes at first, letting the slide grow wetter, slicker. Lube and her own juices made filthy wet sounds. She planted her hands on his thighs and started to ride properly—reverse-cowgirl, ass working up and down the length of him, cheeks spreading each time she took him to the root. Wesley’s hands found her hips again, guiding, not forcing; he let her set the pace while he watched his cock disappear into that tight pink hole over and over.

Bianca’s thoughts scattered into pure sensation: the stretch, the drag, the way every downward thrust nudged something deep that made her clit throb untouched. She clenched deliberately around him, felt his answering throb, and grinned over her shoulder. “Feel that? That’s me owning this cock with my ass. Going to keep it locked inside until you give me everything.” She bounced harder, the wet slap of skin loud in the room. Her pussy dripped steadily onto his balls; she reached down and rubbed her clit in tight circles while she fucked herself on him, the dual stimulation making her thighs shake.

Wesley groaned, head tipped back against the pillows. “Christ, Bianca—your ass is perfect. Squeezing me like it never wants to let go.” His voice was rough, dominant even now, but laced with the raw need she had worked him into. She could feel how close he still rode that edge; the earlier throat-fucking and pussy-riding had left him hypersensitive, cock twitching with every ripple of her walls.

She kept the rhythm steady and deep, rolling her hips so he rubbed against every nerve ending inside her. Filthy promises kept spilling out between moans. “Going to come on this cock and squirt all over you—watch me soak the sheets while I milk your balls dry. You’re going to paint me, Sir. Going to own my face after I own your load.” Each word made her clench harder; each clench made him curse and thrust up to meet her. The mutual ache only sharpened. She was already hovering near that bright, full-body edge that only anal gave her—pressure building low in her belly, cunt fluttering empty, ass gripping him like a vice.

Bianca leaned farther forward, changing the angle, and took him even deeper on the next drop. Her moan cracked open. Wesley’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips hard enough to leave marks she would admire later. They moved together, sweat-slick, the power exchange crackling hot and equal in this moment—her eager submission wrapping around his control until neither could tell who was taking whom. She fucked herself down onto him again and again, ass stretched shiny around his thick shaft, and the tension only wound tighter, nowhere near release yet, both of them aching for the flood that was still building.

Bianca’s reverse ride grew frantic the second the pressure in her belly tipped past bearing. She slammed her ass down onto Wesley’s cock with wet, meaty slaps, cheeks spreading wide every time she buried him to the root, the thick ridge of his head dragging against the deep place that always unraveled her. Lube frothed white around the stretched pink ring; her empty pussy fluttered and dripped a steady string onto his tight balls. She braced one hand on his thigh and jammed the fingers of the other straight onto her clit, rubbing in hard, vicious circles while she bounced.

“Sir—fuck—watch me,” she gasped over her shoulder, voice cracking. “I’m going to come so hard on this cock—going to squirt everywhere and lock you inside until you give it up.” Her ass clenched rhythmically around him on every upstroke, milking, claiming. Wesley’s grip bruised her hips; he thrust up to meet her, the wet sound of their bodies filthy and continuous. Sweat ran down the valley of her spine. She could feel every swollen vein, every desperate pulse of him; the dual assault of throat and pussy earlier had left him raw and leaking, and now her ass was finishing the job.

The coil inside her snapped without warning. Anal always did this to her—full-body, blinding. Bianca’s clit throbbed under her fingers and then her whole lower half detonated. A violent gush erupted from her empty cunt, clear fluid arcing out in hard, pulsing jets that splattered across Wesley’s stomach, his chest, the sheets between his spread thighs. She cried out, high and broken, ass spasming in ruthless waves around his buried cock. The ring of muscle locked down like a fist, fluttering and squeezing in time with every squirt, trying to pull him deeper even as she kept bouncing through it, frantic and shameless.

“Drain it—fuck—drain every drop,” she sobbed, still riding hard, still rubbing her clit through the aftershocks so the squirting kept coming in messy pulses. Her walls rippled endlessly; the vice-grip of her ass milked him without mercy. Wesley’s groan tore out of him raw. His cock swelled impossibly thicker, kicked hard once, twice, and then he exploded deep inside her. Thick ropes of cum pumped straight into her guts, pulse after pulse, the heat of it flooding her while her spasming hole clenched and sucked and refused to let a single drop escape. She owned that load the exact same way he owned her—bodies locked, power equal and absolute in the shared white-out.

“Bianca—fuck—taking it all—” he ground out, hips jerking up as she kept grinding down, working every last spurt out of his balls with the relentless flutter of her ass. Cum flooded her until she felt overfull, warm and filthy, still squirting weakly onto him while she rode the last shudders. Their eyes met over her shoulder in that moment of complete ownership: her submission wrapping his dominance until neither could tell who held the leash. She sank all the way down one final time, ass flush to his hips, and held him there, clenching deliberately so he stayed buried while the aftershocks rolled through both of them.

She stayed seated, breathing hard, feeling his cock twitch and slowly soften just a fraction inside the hot clutch of her. Cum leaked in slow thick rivulets around the seal of her rim whenever she clenched experimentally. Her thighs trembled; her clit still pulsed under her sticky fingers. Wesley’s hands stroked up her back, possessive, then slid around to cup her tits, thumbs brushing the tight nipples.

“You drained me completely,” he murmured against her spine, voice rough with spent pleasure and leftover hunger. “That perfect ass just owned every drop.”

Bianca rolled her hips once more, slow and filthy, feeling the wet slide of his seed inside her. She grinned, still panting. “Told you I would, Sir. Felt you lose it the second I started squirting. You’re still half-hard in me.” She lifted just enough that the head of him threatened to pop free, then sank back down with a wet sound, trapping him again. More cum squeezed out and painted his balls. The mutual ache hadn’t fully faded; her body still hummed, greedy for more of the same ownership. She reached back and spread her cheeks so he could watch his cock and the mess they’d made, then started a shallow, teasing bounce again—just enough to keep him pulsing.

Wesley hissed and tightened his grip. “Greedy little anal slut. Already wanting another load.”

“Maybe,” she whispered, clenching hard enough to make him curse. “Or maybe I want you to pull out and paint something else while I’m still shaking.” She kept the rhythm light and deep at once, building the next wave of heat between them without rushing toward it, both of them still slick and joined and nowhere near finished claiming each other.

Bianca kept the shallow bounce going, her ass still clutching Wesley’s half-soft cock in that filthy wet grip, each slow lift letting more of his thick cum leak out around the rim and drip down over his balls. She rolled her hips in lazy circles, feeling the leftover heat of him slide deeper again whenever she sank back down, the stretch still sweet and aching even as he softened a fraction more. Her empty pussy continued to twitch, little aftershocks of the squirting making clear fluid bead and trail down her inner thighs onto the soaked sheets. Wesley’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips, possessive, guiding her just enough to keep himself inside while he caught his breath against the sweaty curve of her spine.

“Still greedy,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “That ass doesn’t want to let go of a single drop.”

“Because it owns you right now the same way you own it,” she answered, clenching deliberately so he hissed and twitched inside her. She reached back with both hands and spread her cheeks wide, letting him watch the shiny stretch of her hole around his shaft, the slow ooze of white cum escaping whenever the seal loosened. Her clit was still swollen and hypersensitive; she brushed it with one fingertip and shivered hard enough that her walls fluttered again. The mutual power hummed between them—her submission wrapped tight around his dominance until the line blurred completely. She bounced a little deeper, working him back toward full hardness with the heat and pressure of her body alone, determined to wring whatever else he had left.

Wesley’s groan turned sharper. His cock thickened again inside the tight clutch of her, veins standing out against the sensitive walls that had already milked him once. “Fuck, Bianca—keep that up and I’m going to fill you again.”

She grinned over her shoulder, eyes dark and shining. “Then pull out and give me the rest somewhere else. Paint my face while I’m still shaking from draining you. I want to taste every last bit of what my ass took.”

He didn’t need more invitation. His hands slid up to her waist and lifted her carefully, the thick head of him popping free with a wet sound. Cum immediately spilled from her stretched hole in a heavy pulse, running down over her empty pussy and dripping onto his thighs. Bianca whimpered at the sudden emptiness, the burn of it leaving her open and messy, but she turned quickly on shaking knees, spinning to face him so she was straddling his lap the other way. Her tits pressed against his chest for a second; she kissed him hard and filthy, tongue sliding into his mouth so he could taste her earlier desperation, then she dropped lower, presenting her face right in front of his glistening cock.

Wesley wrapped a fist around himself and stroked hard, working out whatever load still boiled in his balls after the full-body emptying her ass had already forced. Thick ropes of cum shot free almost at once—hot, heavy spurts that striped across Bianca’s cheeks, her open lips, the bridge of her nose. She closed her eyes and took it greedily, tongue out to catch what she could mid-air, moaning as more landed on her forehead and chin until her whole face was painted white and sticky. He kept pumping, milking every remaining pulse onto her skin, covering her until she felt marked and owned all over again. When the last weak dribble oozed from the slit she leaned in and closed her mouth around the head, sucking softly while he shuddered through the final twitches.

Then she pulled off and went to work with pure hunger. Bianca licked her own lips first, gathering the thick cum that had landed there and swallowing it down with a satisfied hum. Her tongue swiped across her upper lip, then lower, chasing every streak. She used her fingers next, scooping the heavier ropes from her cheeks and feeding them into her mouth one by one, eyes locked on Wesley’s the whole time so he could watch her claim the rest of his load. Some had run down toward her chin; she caught it on two fingers and sucked them clean, then tilted her face up so nothing escaped. She licked her cheeks thoroughly, the flat of her tongue dragging over the warm, salty mess until her skin shone clean again, only a faint sheen left behind. When her face was spotless she turned her full attention to his spent cock—still heavy, shiny with leftover cum and the slick from her ass. She took him deep into her mouth once more, swirling her tongue around the head, down the shaft, under the sensitive ridge, sucking gently until every trace of their combined mess was gone. She licked his balls too, cleaning the places her squirt and his cum had mixed, until his cock lay soft and spotless against his stomach. Only then did she sit back on her heels between his spread thighs, lips swollen and shiny, breathing hard with pure satisfied greed.

Bianca wiped the last imaginary drop from the corner of her mouth with her thumb, then looked up at him with a playful, wicked spark. “Sir… do I ever get to eat your ass?”

Wesley stared at her for half a second, then barked a short laugh. “Gross.”

The word hung there a beat before they both broke—full, breathless laughter rolling out of them at the same time, the kind that came after being completely wrung out and still stupidly fond of each other. She collapsed forward onto his chest, still giggling, and he wrapped his arms around her, shaking with leftover chuckles against her hair. The sheets were destroyed, the air thick with sex and sweat, their bodies still buzzing from how thoroughly she had drained him with that tight ass and how completely the power had swung both ways while she squirmed and claimed every drop.

But as the laughter slowly faded into quiet breathing, something shifted. Bianca’s cheek rested against Wesley’s heartbeat and the warm satisfaction started to thin out, replaced by a hollow little ache she couldn’t name. Her ass throbbed with a dull, lingering burn that no longer felt delicious—just sore and used—and the mess drying on her thighs suddenly seemed sticky and cold instead of filthy-hot. She traced idle circles on his chest with one fingertip and felt an unexpected tightness in her throat, like the ownership they had shared moments ago had left a bruise she didn’t know how to press. Wesley’s hand stroked her back automatically, but even that touch carried a faint distance now that the urgency was gone. She wondered, unbidden, whether draining him so completely had taken something from her too, some soft edge of wanting that now felt scraped raw. The room was too quiet. The sheets smelled too sharp. She closed her eyes and tried to hold onto the laughter, but a thin thread of regret curled through her belly instead, whispering that maybe they had gone too far into each other this time, and the empty space afterward was already starting to hurt.