I'm Dreaming Of You - Quite Obsessed

I'm dreaming of you - quite obsessed

Homecoming

So there’s this girl that I used to play with years ago–call her Jennifer. Like lots of cunts eventually do, Jennifer eventually decided that the time in her life when she was going to explore filthy, disgusting sex was over. She wanted to find a nice boy and settle down. And so she did. But the thing about Jennifer–the thing about cunts like Jennifer, really–is that they don’t want nice boys. They just want to want nice boys.

I think it’s a simple truth that you can only fight your nature for so long. So I wasn’t totally surprised when, about six months ago, maybe halfway into the pandemic, Jennifer started texting me again. It had been about two years since we had ended things, and she’d been seeing somebody nice and vanilla for more than a year of that time. He loved her, she said. He was nice to her. But whenever they were finished having sex, she always excused herself to the bathroom, laid down on the floor with her face near the base of the toilet, and rubbed to orgasm thinking about what I used to do to her.

She thought about how I used to invite a couple of friends over and we’d all brutally fuck her ass. How we made her clean our cocks out of her ass, laughed and called her a shit-licking cunt and a toilet-mouth slut. How I’d make her crawl around the living room naked while we watched the game. How everybody would make her get them beers. (”Get them beers”: we’d make her crawl to the fridge, shove the bottles in her cunt, and then crawl back to us like that. We’d laugh as we pulled the cold bottles out of her wet hole, and then we’d spank her or finger her asshole for a second while she begged for an orgasm we never gave her.) She thought about how we’d make her lick the spit out of the palms of our hands. About how may cocks she sucked for me. (Dozens, easily.) About how I’d made her drink my piss while my friends made videos of it on their phones to jerk off to later. About how I’d make videos of her masturbating and telling me her most disgusting fantasies, and then send those videos out as invitations to our little parties.

She’d tried, she said. But she couldn’t do it. And…would I ever think about taking her back? She’d leave her boyfriend tomorrow, she told me, one hand on her cunt, to be my on-call side bitch. I told her I wasn’t really interested. But she persisted. And I mean for months. Her begging. Sending me pictures and audio files. Telling me all the things she’d do for me. Disgusting things. Horrible fucking cunt things. Me ignoring her. Telling her that I’d moved on. Her begging harder. Sending even more disgusting pictures and audio files. Promising to do even worse things for me. The worst things you can imagine. Worse than that.

Finally I broke down. I told her I’d consider taking her back, but she was going to have to earn it. She said she’d do anything. So I told her that she and her boyfriend should get a hotel room at a particular hotel near my place. She should pay for it and give it to him like a present–a “romantic getaway”. She should imply that there would be lots of fucking on this getaway. She should text me when they arrived. While I was on my way, she should tell him to step out on the balcony and enjoy the view of the city while she got changed into something hot. When he was out there, she should lock the door and wait for me to show up. She could lie on the bed and edge her cunt while he watched thinking about what was about to happen, but she couldn’t let him back in.

When I knocked on the door of their hotel room, she opened the door to the room, dressed in sexy, see-through black lingerie, her panties pulled to one side to expose her wet hole. The whole room smelled like cunt. I laughed, grabbed her by the hair and dragged her back into the room.

I looked her boyfriend right in the eye through the glass door, smiled, and slapped Jennifer in the face as hard as I could. He started banging on the sliding glass door with his fists. She reeled, moaned, and leaned down to kiss my foot. As she licked and groaned with pleasure, I looked at him again and laughed. She looked up at me, her eyes worshipful. I spit in her face. She gave my foot another kiss. “I missed you, Sir,” she said. “You’re my king.”

“I know stupid,” I said. I reached down and ripped her lingerie until it was hanging off her like a rag. I grabbed her by the hair and slammed her face into the window so she was looking right at her boyfriend. Then I stuck two of my fingers in her ass. She squealed. I leaned over and whispered into her ear what I wanted her to say to him. She started talking.

She told him that she couldn’t ever really love him. That she was sorry for what she was. Then she begged me to fuck her ass while he watched. To hurt her. I jammed her face against the window harder, reached down to pull my cock out, and pushed into her. She screamed. I started to pound her now-tight hole and I talked to her about the old days, loudly enough for her boyfriend to hear every word. I told her about how my friends missed our anal gangbang cunt. She begged me to call them again. She looked right into her boyfriend’s eyes and told me that she’d do anything if I’d call them again. She told me that to prove her devotion, she’d even beg her loser boyfriend to take her back. She stopped talking to spit right at his face. Her spit landed on the glass. I laughed. Then she continued. She’d beg so hard and so persistently that he would take her back, she said, eventually, and then she’d beg him to marry her. She’d pretend he was her king. She’d convince him. Then, on their wedding night, she’d let my friends come into their honeymoon suite, tie him up, gangbang her, and cover her wedding dress with piss.

I pulled out of her ass and jacked off onto her face. Wiped my cock clean in her hair. Then I pulled her old collar out of my pocket, snapped it back around her neck, and attached her leash. She kicked off the tattered remains of her lingerie. I put my jacket on her so she wouldn’t be completely naked as I walked her to the car. We left the rest of her things in the hotel room and walked out the door, her following me on the leash, shoeless, collared, and almost naked, my cum leaking down her leg. Her boyfriend still on the balcony. For housekeeping to let in, I guess. I never did find out.