Photo by Guy New York

“Is she prettier than I am?” she asked, her lip trembling at the question.

This was a new game for us, but I knew the answer the second she asked it. I had asked her the same thing, albeit with different words, for a long time. I knew how she felt asking, and I could feel that perfect combination of fear and excitement about to explode.

“Of course she is,” I whispered, my fingers between her legs and my mouth against her cheek. “But it’s not just that. She’s pretty of course, but she’s also so much sweeter than you. She’s tender and kind, and she doesn’t fuck anyone who asks. Unlike some filthy girls I know.”

“I’m sorry,” she moaned, clenching around my fingers before letting me roll her to her stomach. “Do you like fucking her more than me?”

That last question slipped out through gritted teeth as if she could prepare for the answer. Even as I pressed against her, teasing her with the possibility that I might refrain, I knew she was bracing for my words as much as anything else.

“She’s so much tighter,” I said, pushing inside her in an instant. “She feels amazing when I fuck her, not like this filthy cunt. She cries and kisses me, but it doesn’t matter. I know that she belongs all to me, not like you. I know that she’s my good girl until the slut I’m fucking now.”

“Please,” was all she could say, her sobs real as I pushed deeper inside her until she cried out. I wrapped one arm around her throat as I fucked her harder, and for a moment there were no more words left. She clenched around me even as her tears flowed, and I didn’t stop. I squeezed tighter, I thrust harder, and then I said the words that would end it all.

“She’s prettier and she’s tighter, but there’s more,” I said, feeling her push closer to the edge with each moment.

“What else,” she begged, her fingers between her legs as well, rubbing her clit with a ferocity I hadn’t seen in days. “Please tell me. Please say it.”

“It’s not just that she’s prettier and more innocent. It’s not just that she’s all mine and I love fucking her more than any girl I’ve ever met. It’s not just that she’s sweeter than you.”

“Please,” she cried once more as I found myself also on the edge. There was no point in holding back anything at all.

“I also love her so much more,” I said, and we were done. I came quickly and fiercely as her fingers worked harder and faster, her own orgasm tearing through her body in wave after wave of relief. I pressed down against her, the weight of my body pinning her to the bed even as I released my grip around her neck. She shook and cried as we came, and I wrapped my arms around her without hardly moving at all.

And then I was kissing her hair and holding her with all the affection in the world. She turned and kissed me too, whispering words of thank you as I stopped myself from apologizing. I held her as I choked on the words that I was tempted to say, forcing myself to remember it was just a game.

“I love you more than I can ever say. You know that, right?” I kissed her nose and then held her to my chest. She was warm and still trembling, but she didn’t move for a long time.

“I know,” she said when she finally looked up. “After that, how could I not believe you?”