She Likes It Rough Page 10

  “Fuck!” He groans, grabbing the top of my skull. He makes a half-hearted attempt at stopping me, but quickly resigns himself to the pleasure of my tongue.

  My head bobs and swivels, sliding up and down his stiffness, plunging him deep into my esophagus.

  His neck tilts back and he groans, the suction of my tight lips stroking his length while my tongue laps around the girth. I retch when my nose connects with his rock hard abdomen, slurping up the spit flowing from my mouth down to his balls.

  Light fingertips play at his scrotum while my eyes run with dark mascara. Mr. Thompson holds back the hair that had fallen in my face, moaning to every wet gargle and suck.

  “Mm-mm,” I grunt, forcing him as far as I can go, into the very depths of my throat. My hands grip the sides of his tense thighs, using them as leverage to deepthroat his enormous size.

  My supple tits knock together, swaying elegantly in the air as my gag reflex squeezes tight around his hardness. My head bounces up and down with determined grace.

  “Agh!” The hand on my skull grips tight like a vise. The head of his dick twitches deep inside my esophagus. But I don’t want him to cum—not yet.

  My lips peel off the shaft, clinging to the thick veins, marking his dick with a residue of crimson lipstick. I force my head up, fighting against the resistance of him trying to keep me down. He doesn’t want me to stop—can’t let me. He’s desperate to cum down my naughty little throat.

  “Nuh-uh-uh…” I shake my head when I finally come all the way off. “That’s not how this works.” His dick throbs on the edge of climax, dribbling clear fluid to the floor. My lips curl in a Cheshire grin. “You’ll get to cum when I tell you.”

  Mr. Thompson’s face turns to a grimace. His cock flinches when I tease the head, its balls pulsing like a cannon waiting to be fired. It must be killing him to be so close to orgasm.

  I stand up and squirm out of my skinny jeans to reveal the pink lace panties underneath. Sucking on Mr. Thompson’s cock has made them thoroughly soaked.

  My fingers trace a smooth line across my stomach, over the glint of my navel piercing, slipping beneath my panties and feeling the wetness there.

  “I’m so wet for you, baby,” My tongue circles the edge of my lips. “I want to feel you inside me.” I spread my labia with two fingers, playing with the string of fluids that stretches between them.

  “I don’t think we should—“

  My deep moans interrupt him, echoing up to the high ceiling as I finger my clit. My heart starts to race, beating hard against my chest as my body writhes.

  He’s probably right, though. I’ve been off the pill for months. There’s a good chance of getting pregnant if I let him cum in me. Still, the thought of getting filled with his seed is overriding my judgment.

  Getting knocked up would be so deliciously naughty…

  “Don’t worry,” I say, cupping the side of his chin, “I want you to.” A streak of bubbly spit dribbles off his shaft. The massive cock swells with every pulse in his chest. He gazes down at me with distant reservation, eyes uncertain.

  I bet he never dreamed of getting such an offer when he opened the door.

  Then, without skipping a beat, Mr. Thompson can’t get his shirt off fast enough.

  Each muscle of his bare torso seems to glisten under a sheen of sweat, showcasing his carved marble features. The rolling mounds of bulk flex and flinch beneath his bronze, taut skin. The sight of his magnificent body is enough to make me whimper, my legs shuddering to the mounting heat between them.

  “Do you want to know what it’s like to cum inside this tight little pussy?” I turn away from him and bend over. I bite down on my bottom lip and slip two fingers between my wet folds.

  My slick walls quiver with anticipation, drizzling warm fluids, ready to be fucked.

  I yelp when he pulls my panties down from behind. His dick glides between my ass cheeks, thoroughly lubricated by his precum and my own juices.

  He slicks between my labia, spreading the lips apart and teasing my clit the head. My ass sways in the air to the electric stimulation playing up my spine.

  I reach between my spread legs to grab hold of his girth, guiding the tip to my sopping entrance. My back arches; a bead of sweat trickles down the small of my back. My pussy quivers, ready to accept him.

  But he clutches my ass cheeks, pushing me away and flipping me around. His thick arms entwine themselves around my thighs, lifting me up and spreading them in the air. His face lights up in a lustful vigor. He’s going to have me the way he wants.

  I lock my heels around his waist when he starts to lower me, holding me by the ass. I throw my arms around his neck and my tits compress against the hardness of his chest.

  He wets his hand with a bit of saliva and coats the head with turning strokes. Our bodies slip in a mess of sweat and fluids as he lowers me slowly, holding my gaze. Is he actually going to put it up my—

  My eyes go wide and my stomach clenches in a knot when I feel the tip pressing hard against my puckered asshole. I grit my teeth and sink down on his throbbing dick, squinting as my tight walls give way.

  “Ungh!” I gasp and throw my head back when he enters me. My body clings to him in a tight embrace, arms and legs barely reaching around to interlock around his muscle and bulk.

  Mr. Thompson groans and thrusts himself deeper. My lower half spasms to the increasing pain of his girth stretching my virgin hole. It’s more intense than I’d imagined—and yet, I find myself liking the sting of it.

  The size of him tugs on the interior of my walls, stimulating a new kind of pleasure that sends me into a fit of moans, punctuated by whimpers of pain.

  He works his way deeper with sudden pelvic thrusts and my stomach flinches. I pull myself up and bury his face in the pit of my collarbone, nibbling on his neck to stifle my screams.

  I squeeze around his broad shoulders and hold him against my quaking body while his dick drives in and out of my tiny asshole.

  “Agh!” Mr. Thompson grunts when the muscles of my core begin to spasm reflexively. My insides contract around his dick, stroking the entire length as my ass bounces in the air.

  I can’t hold it in any longer. Gasps turn to screams while I take control, riding on Mr. Thompson like an expert slut, my hips gyrating on his magnificent cock.

  My thighs clamp around his waist in a death grip while I rock my ass against him. His grip moves to my back where his nails dig deep and scratch the pale skin.

  My lower half starts to shudder. My echoing moans fill the room as the orgasm rips through me like a torrent of pleasure and fire.

  I’m still shaking when he brings me over to the couch. He tosses me on to the beige cushions and holds my legs apart at the knees. My tongue sweeps across parted lips, eyes fluttering as his tip parts my labia.

  “Do it! Fuck me!” My body pleads with him to enter me, writhing to my own words. I moan out, loud and long, bucking my hips upward into his abdomen, arching my back and thrusting myself onto his member.

  “Fuck!” He groans as my tightness closes around his dick. “You’re so fucking… ti—“ He tries to say, but another buck of my hips draws the air from his lungs.

  My walls give way to his deep penetration, the magnitude of him nearly splitting me apart. I cry out when he bottoms out at my cervix and it sends a jolt coursing through my insides, a morphing pain that quickly subsides in a sea of pleasure.

  Until now I’d never known what it felt like to be filled so entirely.

  The throbbing pulse of his dick beats against my clenched walls. The slapping sound of skin against skin dominates the room as Mr. Thompson impales me with his glorious cock.

  “Shit! Shit! I’m gonna fucking cum!” The head of his dick twitches in the depths of my pussy. I can sense the mounting pressure in his balls behind the rhythmic pounding.

  “Yes! Cum inside me! Please!” My body twists and spasms, contorting as the second climax tears through me, branching out to every limb. We moan i
n unison, humping and fucking, lost in mutual ecstasy.

  My ass slams hard against his six-pack, holding there while my walls contract. I hold his gaze, watching those amber eyes glaze over as my pussy coaxes the cum from his dick.

  And then I feel it. The endless spurts of hot spunk flooding my uterus, filling me whole. I moan out in ecstatic wails as the massive load erupts from his pulsating cock and coats every square inch of my insides.

  My vision blurs. There’s a flash before my eyes—his seed finding my fertile center, Mr. Thompson rubbing my swollen belly at nine months pregnant.

  Mr. Thompson collapses his weight on top of my knees and I can barely support him. His deeply lodged cock continues to pump thick cum inside me while the rest of him goes limp.

  We lie there together in a mess of sweat and fluids, our breaths calming to a natural synchronous rhythm. My arms clutch around his shoulders until the residual shudders of climax have left me. Somehow I’m certain of it. I’ve just been impregnated.

  Eventually I manage to squirm out from under him. His naked body is planted face first into some throw pillows when I make my way over to the side table where he had put the donation money down. A bit of his warm semen dribbles out the gap of my thighs.

  Riffling through the crisp bills with my thumb, I can’t help but wonder…

  Does this make me a whore?

  SHE’S SO TIGHT

  Mrs. Johnson is a total nagging bitch. She thinks she can act like my mother just because I hang out at her house most of the time.

  The truth is I'm only around a lot because I'm waiting for an opportunity to fuck her husband.

  She's too dumb to realize it, though. So now I've got her on my case all the time, thinking that it has somehow fallen upon her to get me to turn my life around since my real mother is basically out of the picture.

  Lately she's been going on like a broken record, "Get a job, Krista!" Well she can go fuck herself. I am already taking community college classes twice a week!

  Okay, I dropped one of my classes yesterday--but what more does she want?

  Besides, the professor was a dirty old man who always looked at me like he wanted to get in my pants. I may act like a slut around campus, but I do have some standards.

  Course, if he promised me an 'A' at the end of the semester, that would be a different story. Maybe I should go back and propose that to him...

  But whatever, I'm not taking college very seriously anyway. In fact, the only interest of mine that has stuck ever since I turned nineteen is my love for sex.

  I'll do it with just about any guy who looks like he wants it. Most times I talk to a guy, I'm hinting at sex by the end of our first conversation.

  The smarter ones seem to pick up on my subtle cues early on, but it's the jocks I have to be explicit with. Sometimes I just have to say it outright, "I think you're hot, take me back to your dorm and let's fuck."

  Mrs. Johnson says I'll never be good at anything if I just laze about watching television all day. But that's not true.

  I know how to suck a guy off and deepthroat a ten-inch cock. I can stick giant dildos up my ass, or take two dudes at once like a little whore.

  And recently, I've been consistent with practicing my kegel exercises. I like to keep my pussy nice and tight. Tight enough that I could hold a guy's dick inside me even when they try to pull out.

  But all my aspirations don't seem to be good enough for Mrs. Johnson.

  It’s true, I have put on a little extra weight over the past year. But guys don’t seem to mind the extra curves.

  Hell, I get even more attention now.

  More dudes are trying to hit on me than ever before. I’m totally confident in my body. If I feel like lying on the couch eating junk food in front of the TV, then that’s what I’m going to do.

  That incessant bitch just doesn't get it. And she doesn't deserve that gorgeous husband of hers. Mr. Johnson is the hottest man I have ever laid eyes on. He's the only one I've set my sights on but haven't gotten laid by.

  He just has too much damn morality, and loyalty to a stupid wife who doesn't appreciate him. Hell, she is pushing forty-five and still hasn't found a lasting career--and she gets on my case because I don't have a job yet?

  And yet Mr. Johnson has given her everything. Ever since they got married he has treated her to a life of luxury. She doesn't even need to work anymore. Mr. Johnson has enough dough to support them both for the rest of eternity.

  Somehow she got it into her head that her abstract noodle sculptures are actually art, or that she possesses some kind of talent. My talent is giving sloppy wet blowjobs, what's hers?

  But somehow Mr. Johnson just fell head over heels for her. God knows why. I just don't see it. Which is precisely the reason I have made it my mission to steal him away for her. And I have just the plan to do it.

  I'm going to use every talent I have acquired to get myself knocked up by Mr. Johnson. With all the kegel exercises I've been doing it shouldn't be too difficult, once I get him to stick his cock in me.

  Then I'll hold him there and milk the cum from his dick until he can't help but give up his seed.

  Once I am carrying his child, his priorities will have to shift toward raising our newborn. Then Mrs. Johnson will get pushed to the back burner; just an afterthought--extra baggage. Then I'll hold all the power. Mr. Johnson will have to love me.

  And I'll revel in the moment of telling her to get a real job, because there just isn't room for her in our family anymore. Payback is a bitch.

  The only difficult part of this whole plan is, of course, in its execution--getting Mr. Johnson to fuck me. Somehow I'll have to get him to abandon those silly ethics of his. Truth is, I have tried on numerous occasions in the past without success.

  I've tried the subtle tack, and I've tried the obvious. I even went so far as to drop my bath towel in front of him in the hallway after my shower.

  "Oops!" I said when the towel hit the floor. I let my supple breasts hang for a moment before covering up with my hand, pretending it was an accident. He just shielded his eyes and told me,

  "Good lord, Krista! I'm not supposed to see that!"

  "It's okay if you want to look Mr. Johnson..." I told him, taking a step forward and giggling at the sight of him shutting his eyes and turning his head.

  "I don't want to! Please, put your towel back on already."

  "You don't want to see my tits? A lot of guys at school would kill for a chance to see them." I took another step forward, dropping the hand to my side to expose my perky nipples pointed right at him.

  "They're so big, and round... and soft..." I gently knocked away his arm trying to hold me back, and took another step closer. My tits were right in front of him then, if only he would just open his eyes.

  "It wouldn't be right. C'mon now, is this a joke?"

  "Just a teeny, little... innocent peek? It's really okay if you want to. I won't hold it against you, and your wife will never have to know." He puts a hand on my shoulder to stop me from coming any closer. "I know you want to..."

  "That's enough! I'm going back upstairs now. I expect you to be fully clothed when I come back down." It was one of the few times Mr. Johnson has ever spoken to me with such an authoritative tone.

  Most times, I was a well-behaved guest--a good little girl just for him.

  But I saw him peeking at the last second before he turned to walk away from me. And that is all the evidence I needed to confirm that, deep down, he can't help wondering what it must be like to get inside this tight little pussy.

  And the next time I won't be letting him get off so easy. Unless he is getting off inside me...

  ******

  It wasn't until now, a few weeks after I tried to get Mr. Johnson to look at my tits, that I had another opportunity to seduce him. And ever since then, he has hardly even acknowledged my existence.

  If we're ever alone together for a minute, he's just awkward. I can't ever get more than a one-word response to any q
uestion. Even Mrs. Johnson asked me the other day if we were fighting.

  I just told her to mind her own fucking business.

  Maybe he just feels guilty for taking that little peek. But I'll be sure to let him know that can have a whole lot more of me than that--all of it, if he wants.

  Mrs. Johnson has gone off to one of her stupid art conventions, so her husband and I have the place to ourselves for a full weekend. It's rare that she ever leaves the house for more than a few hours, so I intend to take full advantage of the fact she has left Mr. Johnson all alone, with me.

  Neither of us knows how to cook, so we agreed in so few words to just order pizza tonight. And in Mr. Johnson's mind, it was an excuse to not have to sit at the dinner table in awkward silence.