Training to Squirt – Part 4 of 5 (L)
(L) – This story contains strong language.
Click here to read the previous parts of this series! Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
Session Four — Day Four
First Lesson: No Warmup Needed
Morning came again. There was no teasing this time.
I woke her by feeding my fingers into her pussy, already curling up toward her G-spot before she was fully conscious.
She gasped, startled, but didn’t resist—the opposite, actually. (Yes, Cindy and I have full consent for sexual wake ups.)
Her hips rolled into my hand on instinct.
“That’s it, baby,” I said. “No more warm-ups. No more permission. You cum when I fucking say you do.”
Three thrusts.
Four.
She squirted again, soaking the mattress between her legs. And she wasn’t even awake fully yet.
Perfect.
“Next time you’ll do it yourself,” I said.
“Yes daddy,” she moaned.
On shaky legs, she got up to cook breakfast.
Second Lesson: Command Squirting
The same day around mid-afternoon, I sat on the couch, my legs spread wide, playing video games and drinking a beer. Cindy was on the phone with her sister-in-law—my brother’s wife. She was wearing nothing but panties and a tank top.
I snapped my fingers once, and pointed to the floor in front of me.
“I have to go, Amy,” she said in that slutty yet girly voice.
She crawled over immediately.
I didn’t touch her. I just tapped the inside of her thigh twice with my fingers.
She knew what it meant.
She spread her legs wide and started fingering herself—rough, desperate, trained perfectly.
Two minutes later, she was squirting on the carpet in front of me. No shame. No hesitation. Just pure submission.
“Good fucking girl.”
Third Lesson: Beg for It
That night, I made her beg.
I sat back on the edge of the bed, my legs spread wide.
She kneeled between my knees, nude, trembling, covered in the marks of my hands from a fun spanking earlier—nothing harsh, just enough to set the scene for tonight.
I held my fingers up—two fingers ready to destroy her again.
But I didn’t move.
I just waited.
And waited…
Until she finally choked out, “Please Cal. Please make me squirt. Please break me again. I need it. I need you daddy, please, please—”
In the middle of her begging, I grabbed her, shoved her onto the bed, and forced her thighs open so wide she whimpered. Then I absolutely destroyed her pussy with my fingers until she was gushing again—sobbing, broken, mindless under me.
Aftermath: Proud Little Mess
I dragged her limp, twitching body into my arms, kissing her hair. I held her like she was the most precious thing in the fucking world.
Because she is.
My good girl.
My filthy little wife.
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