She Wants It Rough

by Meegan Melons

  “Oh, fuck!” His cock trembles in me and his legs shake. The impact of his thick, warm spunk against my cervix causes my hips to jolt. It’s just enough to send me over the edge with him.

  We moan together as our bodies quake in an explosion of ecstasy. My walls clench and release, again and again, as the muscles of my core contract and relax.

  The eruption of orgasmic energy sends euphoric shudders shooting out to every extremity. I clutch onto his back with contorted fingers pressed deep into his skin, whimpering as my body convulses underneath him. Girl juices gush from my pussy, drenching his cock and wetting the sheets all over.

  Then Mr. Peterson is still. The tremors in my body slowly begin to calm. As we lie motionless together, basking in the glow of a phenomenal orgasm, I try to match my heavy breathing with his. I concentrate on the feeling of his load filling me whole, wanting to capture this moment in my mind forever.

  Drops of warm cum ooze from my hole and trickle off his ball sac. The massive load fills every crevice of my insides. Mr. Peterson has gotten me pregnant for sure.

  I can’t help but wonder about where our relationship will go from here. After all, Mr. Peterson has just taken my virginity. Things are going to be very different from now on.

  Now that I’ll be having his child, I can forget about college and move in. He’ll have to support me in whatever decision I make because, in the end, my little virgin pussy was just too tight for him to pull out in time.

  Letting Him Finish Inside

  I've always been an excellent motivational speaker. Especially when I've got a big cock in my mouth. It's harder to talk when I'm choking on some guy's dick down my esophagus, but it gets easier with practice.

  "You can do it!" I'll say in gargled words, tickling his scrotum and encouraging him to cum deep in my throat. They seem to be pretty motivated after I do that. I've yet to find a guy with such a lack of motivation that he won't cum for me.

  I remember giving a motivational speech in my college class last semester. Everyone seemed really engaged and focused on what I was saying. But looking around, I realized that I'd blown every guy in the class. Turns out they were just staring at my tits.

  I really get a kick out of helping people find their motivation. And it really doesn't take much. Sometimes all I have to do is flash my tits. Other times, if the guy is really struggling, I'll take it up the ass. I pride myself in having a one hundred percent success rate.

  Usually all it takes is a quality blowjob from yours truly.

  The group sessions are always the most successful. I've found that I can motivate five guys all at once. One in each hand, one in each hole. It's a regular group therapy session. A fuck fest of inspiration.

  Then I let them unload all that pent up anxiety right on to my tits. Or in my ass, whichever they prefer. A man with a healthy load is a man who is going places. It's my job to get them there.

  Keeping all that cum backed up is too much of a distraction. My job is to relieve men of that distraction. If letting a guy drill me from behind while he holds my supple tits or giving him head underneath his office desk is what it takes, then I'm the one willing to do it.

  Some would call that being a slut. I call it being good at what I do.

  But it's my job, after all. Guys come to me when they need a little boost. A little encouragement to get them going. A nice, sloppy blowjob really does wonders for a guy who hasn't gotten any in a long time. Most guys I work with, I do feel a little sorry for. After a little favor from me, he'll be ready to take on the world. Nothing pleases me more than to get a helpless man up off his feet. Of course, the money doesn't hurt either.

  But now I am facing my most difficult client. To be fair, he is more than just a client. He's a man I trust and care about. A man who helped raise me when my parents were never around. The man I love--my neighbor, Mr. Thompson

  He has really been down in the dumps recently. I've never seen him so depressed. His wife left him for another man a year ago. Then he just his job six months later, and I don't think he's even been looking for a new one. He used to be such a happy man. He would always do his best to make me feel happy when I was a kid.

  Now that I'm nineteen, I want to do what I can to help him. I want to show Mr. Thompson what I can do for him with my body. I've never had a client I couldn't turn around. And I do not accept failure--ever.

  And I'll be damned if Mr. Thompson will be my first. I owe him too much. The least I can do is use my talents of inspiration to help him out of this rut.

  The man probably hasn't been laid in years. It's not like his wife was giving him any before she left. I miss the old Mr. Thompson. I want my happy neighbor back.

  Which is why Mr. Thompson is the only man I would ever dream of letting cum inside my pussy. If getting knocked up is what it's going to take to pull him out of depression, then that's what I'll have to do.

  Once I'm pregnant, he'll have no choice but to turn himself around for the sake of our child. Then he'll finally be happy again.

  He'll raise our kid like he raised me. His life will be full of laughter again. There's nothing I wouldn't give to get the old Mr. Thompson back.

  I've tried all the techniques that have always worked in the past, but he seems to always refuse my advances. I know he's playing dumb. He probably just doesn't know how to think of me as a sexual being after so many years raising me as a kid.

  So lately I've been spending a lot of time at his house. Hell, I may as well be living there at this point. Just last night when I walked in on him getting into the shower I straight up told him that he could fuck me.

  The poor guy almost slipped on the wet tile floor when he reacted to me coming in without anything on.

  "Can I join you?" I asked him casually. Mr. Thompson just looks perplexed. I couldn't help giggling at the sight of him grabbing a hand towel from the nearest rack to cover his dick.

  But he couldn't fool me, I saw him getting hard. The tip of it was peeking over the top of the little white cloth before I stepped in closer.

  "What the--Cammy, what the hell?" He was hunched over, trying to hide his growing erection behind the little towel.

  "Mr. Thompson... I want to help you."

  "Cammy, I'm naked here!"

  "Do you know what I do for a living?" I smirked.

  "Yeah... you're a motivational speaker." I couldn't help laughing. Water droplets fell from his furrowed brows wondering what the hell I was getting at.

  "But do you know how I motivate people?" He just stared blankly, shaking his head. "You don't make the kind of money I do with just words, silly." I giggled. But for him I work for free. I took a few bold steps toward Mr. Thompson.

  His thick arm muscles bulged as he gripped tight around the cloth to cover himself-- I could see the subtle twitch of a pulsing vein along his bicep. Mr. Thompson is totally ripped.

  He may be depressed, but he still hits the gym almost every day. And his body shows it. He is built like an athlete.

  "Which is why I am going to let you fuck me." Mr. Thompson shook his head in disbelief. "In any hole you want." I smirked, tugging down on my cut off jeans enough to expose my trimmed pubes.

  I bit down on my lower lip, dropping my eyelids and honing in on Mr. Thompson's engorged cock. I shook my ass a bit as I slipped the shorts and panties down my legs. Then they dropped to my ankles and I giggled.

  I took another step forward, getting close enough to press an index finger between his bulging pecs. I traced the finger along his sternum, taking a long path across his chest and over his six-pack. Mr. Thompson jerked away from me when I dove the hand behind his tiny towel to grope at his dick.

  "Cammy! What're you--" He turned to the side, raising the towel a little higher to cover the tip but exposing his balls in the process. I giggled at the sight of his balls hanging below the towel.

  "Mr. Thompson, it's okay... really. This is what I do. I want to help you. I know how to make you better again." I spun myself around, bending over
while arching my back. I reached around from underneath my crotch and spread the lips of my pussy. I was already dripping wet for him.

  "Mmmm," I moaned as I stuck two fingers just inside. "I'm so wet for you, Mr. Thompson..." I licked my tongue sensually around my lips. "Do you want to know what I taste like?" But he said nothing.

  All those years of being a father figure to me kept him from seeing me as a real woman. He couldn't see that my body had matured, that I was old enough now to make own decision about who I want to fuck. And I clearly wanted to fuck him.

  He took a timid stance and backed himself up against the white tile wall as I approached again. I walked toward him with a slow confidence, crossing my legs with each step. I was determined to get him inside me.

  "Just relax..." I reached to turn the brass knob on the wall. Warm water sprays from the showerhead, rolling over my perky tits just centimeters away from his chest. "I want this." I grab hold of the little towel and rip it from his curled fingers.

  Then I shoved him against the wall with fingertips pressing into his firm chest. Our lips connected and I gave him a passionate kiss, inserting my tongue past his teeth. His eyes went wide and he grabbed me by the shoulders to hold me back.

  "What the hell are you--" He stopped mid-sentence when he felt my soft palm around his cock. I could feel it growing bigger in my hand. Mr. Thompson couldn't hide the fact that my advances were turning him on.

  "I just want to help you. Let me show you what I do for my clients..." I planted wet kisses down his sternum as the warm water trickled down my auburn hair. I tilted my head back to get the hair out of my face, making my way down to his abdomen.

  I gently massaged his engorging cock in my hands, teasing the head between my thumb and curled forefinger. His dick was getting hard as rock. Mr. Thompson was huge.

  My tongue circled around his toned abdominal muscles as I held him against the wall gently by the hips. Mr. Thompson was utterly stunned; his grip on my shoulders went loose. He wasn't putting up much resistance, despite pretending that he didn't like what I was doing for him.

  "Cammy--don't!" But then he moaned when he felt the flat of my tongue against his stiff dick. I traced it along the shaft, swirling around at the head when I got there.

  I flicked the tip of it with my tongue, giggling and looking up at Mr. Thompson with his head tilted back, water pouring into his open mouth. Then his hands gripped tight around my skull when my lips wrapped tight around the head.

  "Fuck--" he yelled, squeezing my skull tight. I spit on his dick, stroking while the running water flowed between my fingers. My thick saliva oozed down the shaft and rolled off his dripping wet ball sac.

  Then I dove onto his cock with my mouth, slipping his giant cock into the warm wetness of my throat.

  Mr. Thompson moaned again when he felt the heat of my mouth, warmer even than the shower water that was fogging the bathroom window.

  I pushed his cock in deep, retching on the size of it. He was much bigger than most of my clients. I gagged hard and spurt up thick spit when his it lodged in the back of my throat.

  Then I pushed him deeper, down into my esophagus while lapping on the shaft with the flat of my tongue. Mr. Thompson was holding my head by the cheeks while I slobbered all over his cock.

  I choked when I breathed in a bit of the shower water gushing through my nose. Thick saliva shot out from my lips and drizzled to the base of his shaft.

  Looking up at Mr. Thompson, I couldn't help but smirk at the corner of my lips. His were shut tight and his mouth was agape. He didn't know what to think of his naughty neighbor giving him the best blowjob of his life.

  I cupped his balls with one hand, lifting them and using the leverage to shove his dick further into the depths of my throat. Mr. Thompson moaned over the sound of the water beating against the tile floor.

  Then I started tickling his scrotum while stroking the length of his dick with my wet throat. I gagged and gulped on his cock, bobbing up and down and compressing the whole of his dick deep inside my esophagus. Again and again, I sprayed thick beads of bubbly spit down his cock.

  The steam on my face was causing my dark mascara to roll down my cheeks. I was pleasuring Mr. Thompson like an expert whore, motivating him with my entire mouth around his massive cock.

  "Fuck, Cammy..."

  "Mmm--hmm..." I moan for him, gagging and slurping all over his dick. Then I felt the head twitch in the back of my throat and I knew he was getting ready to cum. I grip the sides of his thighs and lift myself off his cock. The pouring water severs the thick strings of saliva that cling to his cock as I pull away. I wipe the spit around my mouth with the back of one hand, saying, "You can't cum yet...."

  I stood up, giggling while stroking his cock to keep him right on the edge of ejaculation. I went in for another kiss, teasing the head with my fingertips. I felt his cock twitch in my hand. He was so close...

  When our lips separated, I told him, "You really want to cum, don't you?" But all he could muster was a slow nod. He is desperate to cum now, just where I want him to be.

  "I'll only let you cum if you stick it in my pussy first..." I give the head one more little tickle and Mr. Thompson's face turned to a grimace, his jaw clenched. I grab his arm and guide his hand to my wet entrance. His fingers touch the sogginess of my pussy and slip between my folds.

  Our fingers interlocked and I used his hand to finger my clit. Girl juices gushed from me and flowed into the stream of water running between my thighs. Mr. Thompson's fingers brushed along the warmth of my pussy, gliding in my wetness.

  Then I pushed two of his fingers into my wet hole, "Can you feel how tight I am for you, Mr. Thompson?" His fingers slipped in deeper, down to the second knuckle. "Don't' you want to feel this tight pussy around your cock?" His hand was trembling; his cock pulsed quickly in my hand. He was on the very edge.

  "I'll let you cum inside me..." I say, caressing his shaft. Mr. Thompson's eyes closed and his whole body shuddered. He wanted so desperately to fuck me.

  "But Cammy, we can't..." He put a hand on my bare shoulder and grabbed my wrist. "You have to stop." I couldn't believe that he was serious. There I was, asking for him to stick his dick in me, even giving him permission to cum inside me. But still he refused.

  "You're my neighbor! I know your mother for god's sake! It wouldn't be right" The water pressure had put my hair in my face, which was now covering my tears. I sobbed into my hands as the water flowed between my fingers. I just wanted to help Mr. Thompson, but instead I had been humiliated. In that moment I could see in his eyes how bad he wanted to fuck me.

  "Cammy I--just leave. Get out!" He motioned toward the door, picking up the small towel again. I could see his tight ass from the side as he turned away. I had to fight back my laughter at the hilarity of him trying to keep himself covered at that point.

  I could tell then that he was going to be a lot more difficult than all the others. A more direct approach would be necessary if I was going to succeed at this--that is, if I could possibly get any more direct.

  But this time I will succeed. Tonight, Mr. Thompson is going to find his motivation.

  ***

  When I show up to Mr. Thompson's front door I'm already crying. They weren't real tears of course, but they would serve me and help me get what I wanted from him. Mr. Thompson may be a moral man, but I'll be damned if he isn't going to accept my help. All I want is for him to get me pregnant so he can be happy again. Why can't he understand that?

  "Cammy? What're you--" I slip under his arm in the doorway. "What's wrong?" My face is buried in my hands and I'm sobbing.

  "That jerk!" I stumble my way over to his living room couch while Mr. Thompson follows closely behind with a hand patting lightly on my back, trying to console me. When we get there, I flop onto the beige leather couch, sniffling and wiping away black tears of mascara.

  "What happened?" He asks, looking genuinely concerned.

  "My asshole client stiffed me." Mr. Thompson take
s a seat next to me. I get one foot up on the couch; my legs are bare below my denim shorts. My pink tank top hangs low as I sprawl myself out in front of Mr. Thompson.

  "You wouldn't understand!" I say, working up more tears and putting a throw pillow over my face. Then I feel his warm hand clutching around my ankle. He rubs there, making his way up the smoothness of my calf, trying to comfort me.

  "But you're not an asshole like most guys, are you Mr. Thompson? You're such a good man..." He runs his palm up and down along the length of my shin.

  I remove the pillow from my face, saying, "I mean, after what happened between us... it must be true." Mr. Thompson averts his eyes and stares at the immaculate carpet. He always was a bit of clean freak.

  He is looking awkward--a little tense, even. I sense a bit of regret behind those sullen eyes. Regret about not fucking me wen he had the chance. Regret about not getting the opportunity to feel the tightness of my warm pussy around his cock. Regretful that he never got to cum inside me.