This time it was a shudder that ran through her body. ‘Mon Dieu, I have nevair felt anysing like zis before, you have not touched my pussy, you cock...is not between my legs and yet I ‘ave ze orgasm, How can zis be?’ ‘That my sweet, is the difference between having sex and making love. I could have fucked you but you would never be sure that I loved you as opposed to using your body, to lust. I find it much more enjoyable, and there is more to come, much more. I do not know yet if I am in love. Nothing mattered anymore. I was sucking his cock again, and it felt good. I could feel my throat relax as his cock stretched me deep, gagging me... but I didn't care. I wanted to be used. "Ya, that's it bitch boi," he chuckled... there it was, my favourite nickname... He fucked my face, going deeper and harder when he realised his fag boy wasn't putting up a fight. He had won, dominated me. And I was accepting. It felt good to be used; to be treated like a whore. I wanted more. I wanted to. More

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