His Princess

by Sanya Sitter

  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 question. Even Mrs. Johnson asked me the other day if w
e 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.

  But if he thinks he can just avoid me all night, he is in for a surprise.

  Ding-dong!

  "Hey, Mr. Johnson! The pizza man is here!" I yell to him upstairs. When I open the door, I am shocked to see that it's Cody, one of the jocks I fucked last month.

  He gives me a stupid smile and a little wink when he hands me the pizza, as if he is going to get another piece of this. But he totally sucks in bed, and his penis is a tragic size.

  I shove the cash in his hand and quickly tell him good night, shutting the door while he is still going on about something that happened in class. Sorry Cody, but I don't have time for your bullshit right now.

  "Mr. Johnson?" I yell for him again. He can't stay up there all night.

  "Coming!" He shouts back finally. Oh, you'll be cumming alright. I set the pizza box on the dining room table, even though I know we don't plan on eating there. I open the lid just a bit to take in the aroma.

  Hawaiian with extra cheese and extra sauce, just how Mr. Johnson likes it.

  "Thanks Krista... you ordered my favorite." He says dully when he arrives at the table.

  "I know it's your favorite--that's why I got it! I thought you deserved something special after a long work week." He peels a couple slices from the grease-stained box and scarfs down a bite where he's standing.

  "Want me to hand you a napkin?" I ask, just trying to make simple conversation as a glob of thick marinara falls to his plate. He leans across the table for one instead, saying,

  "I got it..." This is going to be harder than I thought.

  "I--I was thinking you deserve something else, too..." He turns to me, raising an eyebrow. I trace an index finger lightly over the busty cleavage behind my bra and down the center of my tan, round belly.

  I pause when it reaches the waistband of my pants. "You know your wife won't be back till Sunday, right?"

  "I'm not sure I see your point," he says, turning away from me and stuffing another bite of pizza into his mouth. Fresh pizza and a warm pussy to fuck--seriously, what more can I guy ask for?

  But there he goes again with those troublesome morals, trying to play dumb.

  "I know you peeked." Mr. Johnson cocks his head in a quizzical fashion and squints, pretending like he doesn't know what I'm talking about.

  But I know he's full of shit. "You got a good look at my tits, and now you want to see more. You just don't know how to ask..."

  "Krista, I don't--"

  "But you don't have to worry. I'm going to give you way more than just a little peek." His face freezes mid-chew. "You can have all of me, and you don't even have to ask for it." I cross my arms and lift off my bra in one quick motion. Mr. Johnson's wide gaze is fixed on my now exposed breasts. He is too shocked to even blink.

  "You like these titties, don't you?" I step toward him, close enough to run my long, red manicured nails through the back of his hair. "You want to suck on them, don't you?" He swallows the half-chewed pizza in one giant gulp.

  "But--But, Krista... what if my wife finds out that--" I put two fingers to his lips to quiet him.

  "Shhh... I won't tell if you won't." I pull on his head from behind, guiding his face to one of my nipples. He looks up at me with eyes full of apprehension.

  His conscience must be screaming at him to get away--that he's going to get himself into some serious trouble with me. But his curiosity is quite apparent now. Mr. Johnson is dying to know what it's like to get inside me.

  He looks to me, then to the nipple in his face, then back to me. His eyes ask for one final sign of permission. I nod at him and shove his head closer. "Suck." I command. His lips part ever so slightly; his eyelids drop.

  Then my head tilts back and I moan when I feel the wetness of his mouth around my breast.

  "Mmmm..." I press him against me as my head rocks to the surge of tingles crawling up my neck. Mr. Johnson slurps around the areola and flicks at my nipple with his tongue.

  He wraps an arm around my waist and holds me against the hardness of his chest.

  "See, that wasn't so hard... tastes good, doesn't it?" My lips curl in a mischievous grin.

  "Mm... mm--hmm," He says with a mouthful of breast.

  "I know what else you'd like..." I stick a hand beneath the waist of my pants and moan loud and long, licking around the perimeter of my lips. I rub at my clit a little, feeling the sogginess of my dripping wet pussy. "I'm not wearing any panties," I giggle.

  The suction of his lips around my nipple intensifies. My whole torso shudders as I hold him there against my chest.

  "Why don't you have a little taste... down there." I apply a bit of pressure on the back of his head to encourage him downward. Mr. Johnson releases the vacuum around my breast, panting.

  He plants kisses all down my center, making his way hastily from my sternum down to my belly button.

  When he gets there, he tugs on the front my pants and presses the flat of his tongue on my trimmed pubes. Then it slicks its way down a spiraling path to my clit and I moan again when I feel him lapping and sucking there.

  My grip tightens around his skill as Mr. Johnson's tongue flicks wildly, darting between my folds and running figure eights around my clitoris. He groans and grunts, huffing quick breaths through his nose as he slurps on the sweetness of my pussy with relish.

  I never imagined it would be so easy to awaken such an insatiable lust for my body. I wonder if he ever goes down on his wife like this.

  Mr. Johnson pulls down on my pants from behind to reveal my big round ass, then spins me around by the waist while he's kneeling on the floor. I spread my legs apart for him when he squeezes my ass cheeks tight and pulls me in against his face, lapping on my pussy and curling his tongue to taste my insides.

  The tip of it slips just inside my entrance, and Mr. Johnson moans when he tastes the sweetness of my girl juices.

  He shakes his head and waggles his tongue inside me, slobbering thick spit between my thighs. I reach around to brush my fingers through his hair and bury his face between my ass. My back arches when I feel his tongue slipping in deeper.

  "Ungh!" I cry out when I feel Mr. Johnson stimulating my G-spot. My ass bucks against his face and my legs tremble. My mind goes numb; my insides convulse around his prodding tongue.

  My core spams and fluids gush from me, rolling off his chin while his warm saliva trickles down the inside of my legs. Mr. Johnson moans and slurps down every drop of my fluids in delight.

  He continues holding me by the ass while it shudders against him. When my hips finally stop shaking, my torso slumps forward and my arms hang low. The intense orgasm has made me numb from the waist down.

  I would collapse to the floor if it weren't for Mr. Johnson holding me up.

  After I catch my breath and sense the feeling returning to my extremities, I swivel back around to lift him up gently by the ears until he is standing again.

  "Now... let's have a look at that cock, shall we?" I dive a hand into his pants and wrap my fingers around his engorged penis. He groans and has to throw a hand on my shoulder for balance.

  The pulse of his throbbing cock beats in my hand; his heart is pounding so fast.

  "My my... you are excited, aren't you?" I say with a smirk. "How on Earth am I going to fit all of this down my naughty little throat?"
I fake a pout, tugging on the thin skin of his shaft.

  My tongue darts to the corner of my mouth and traces across my upper lip, leaving a wet sheen of saliva. I cup his balls and tickle his scrotum while working at his belt buckle with the other hand.

  "Krista--are you sure this is a good--" I jerk him toward me and plunge my tongue into his throat to shut him up. There's no turning back now, Mr. Johnson. This is happening.

  I tug down on his zipper as we make out and lift his cock up by the balls to pull it out from his briefs. I trace a finger lightly from the base up to the neck, then wrap thumb and forefinger just below the head. Our lips separate and I get down on my knees and position his cock in front of my lips.