“Well, umm… it was like this—“
“Can I help you officer?” Mr. Jameson says, his arm arching above me to lean against the door.
“Yes, I’m—“
“Because we’re perfectly fine here.”
“That’s great, it’s just—“
“But I appreciate your concern. The young woman and I can handle this, thank you.” The officer looks annoyed at being interrupted. Mr. Jameson’s sleeves are rolled up to his elbow, the sweat sheen of his forearms glinting like polished marble.
He exudes a kind of confidence that has the cop stumbling over his words. It’s obvious that he wants to pin me on something, but Mr. Jameson won’t have any of it.
My savior.
“Okay then…. have a good night.” The cop tips his hat and more water spills off the front.
“Phew. He was making me nervous,” I say, exhaling a sigh of relief.
“Yeah, he’s a jerk.” Mr. Jameson closes the door, pushing with two fingers on the intricate woodcarving.
I sidestep to get behind Mr. Jameson. “So, where were we?” I make a sort of snicker, the way a kid enjoys misbehaving. My fingers dance between his shoulder blades as I lean in, whispering, “Which one of my holes do you want to explore next?”
“It’s funny, though” he says, the tone of his voice sounding way too serious. His hand moves with purpose, locking each of the three deadbolts into place. “I’m also curious how you managed to total my brand new car in a quiet residential area like this one.” His words are punctuated by the sound of metal clicking into place. “I mean shit, you’d have to be going at least forty-five.” Is he interrogating me? Did he figure out it wasn’t an accident?
“I know, I’m so terrible!” There is a pause, and I fill it with a nervous giggle. My palms slip down his back. I bite down on my bottom lip to stop it from trembling, to hide the fact that he’s scaring me a little.
“Can I ask you a question, Brenna?” He turns from the door, towering over me, holding me with a piercing stare. “Don’t worry, I’m not a cop.”
“Mm-hmm?” I nod slowly, straining my eyes so they don’t look away, doing my best maintain a facade of innocence.
“Was it part of your plan to get fucked in the ass?”
The muscles of my core jump at his words, my asshole clenching into a tight pucker. “We can do that—if you want…” I stare at the floor, shuffling my feet. I don’t know where to look.
“I’ll ask you again,” Mr. Jameson says, removing his shirt and getting at the button of his jeans. “Was it part of your plan to get fucked in the ass?”
“Mr., Jameson? I don't know what you mean.”
“Get on the couch.”
“Okay, but—“
“You’ve caused me a lot of trouble today, Brenna” I take small backward steps, toward the couch, avoiding eye contact. “It’s time you take responsibility and accept your punishment.”
I’m already lying flat on the couch by the time Mr. Jameson has his pants off. He’s stroking his stiff dick, looking down at me with a look of disgust.
“Did I say you could lie down?”
“No, I just—“
“I don’t recall telling you to speak, either.” Mr. Jameson crosses his arms, looking me over with disdain. “Get up, and bend over.”
My first inclination is to ask exactly what he means, but I purse my lips and stand up instead. My feet drag along the carpet in slow, timid steps. I position myself over the couch’s arm, my pink manicured nails contrasting the sleek beige leather. “Like—like this?”
I gasp, covering my lips, immediately regretting speaking out of turn. His harsh, glowering eyes fall on my bent over ass.
“Lift up your skirt.”
My hands move almost on their own, their fingers sliding up my tense, slender thighs, feeling the tiny goose bumps there. They pause upon reaching the end of the skirt’s black ruffles, curling beneath the hem and lifting to reveal the taut, pale skin of my ass cheeks. My teeth sink into the skin below my lips, eyes squinting shut in anticipation of what was coming next.
I can’t suppress the harsh screech that forces its way out of me when Mr. Jameson’s hand lands square against my ass. A streak of tears trickles from my closed eyelids and rolls over flush cheeks.
“You’ve been a naughty, naughty girl, Brenna.” A red outline is left at the spot where his palm peels away. “A disobedient little slut.”
My whole body jolts and I yelp at the force of the next blow against my bare bottom. The pain surges through my spine, distant pleasure swimming out to my breasts, shocking my hard nipples. My hips writhe to the subtle current, panties soaking wet with eager desire.
“I want you say it.” His hands brush the contours of my raw cheeks. One finger flicks at my protruding tailbone, rolling over the sharp vertebrae like a dotted line across my arching back.
My head jerks to another heavy blow against my ass and I moan long and deep.
“Say it!”
My pussy quivers with anticipation, a rising heat that shudders my insides to the hilt.
SMACK!
A gush of seeping hot fluid between my thighs.
“Say it! ‘I hit Mr. Jameson’s car on purpose!’” He says, another hand coming down.
SMACK!
“Mmmmm…” My hips gyrate to the ecstatic shockwave landing between my open ass cheeks.
“I don’t fucking believe it!” He swipes at my ass crack, spreading my juices between two fingers, examining them with a look of disgust. “Are you—are you enjoying this?”
SMACK!
He backhands my ass, his hard knuckles bruising the soft tissue. “Admit it! You did it on purpose!”
He unleashes a flurry of unrelenting spanks. My head rolls on its axis as I groan, the tight walls of my pussy clenching to the pain and pleasure of every strike.
“Okay! I’ll fucking admit it, okay?” For a moment, he stays his hand. “I hit your fucking car on purpose!” For another moment there is nothing but silence.
“Because?” An index finger traces the red handprints plastered on my cheeks. The weight of his jeans thuds against the carpet floor.
“Because—because I’m a dirty little slut!” Hearing the words come out of my mouth only made me wetter. It feels so good to hear the truth come out for once—makes me want even more. More punishment.
“And…”
“And—and what?”
SMACK!
My head flings backward, my damp hair clinging in thick clumps between my shoulders. A line of sweat runs the channel of my spine down to the small of my back.
“And you did it to get fucked in the ass!” His firm hand hovers inches from my tender cheeks. The stinging pain branching out to every nerve ending with perverse pleasure.
“Okay, Fuck! It’s true….” Tears gush from my swollen red eyes as I hammer fists into the leather cushions. “I did it all just to….” My voice catches in my throat, his hand grips one cheek like a vise and twists.
The pain is like a bullet shooting through my insides, ricocheting between my ribs. His hand dives beneath my panties and finds the wet clit there. Two fingers dip between my wet folds, sending my body into a chaotic fit of pain and pleasure
“…. To get fucked in the ass!”
The truth never felt so good. Mr. Jameson spits into his hand, coating saliva around the swollen head of his cock. Is he actually going to do it?
“Ungh!” My toes curl, my ass clenches reflexively. The tip pushes into the puckered entrance, its slick lubrication parting my walls despite the resistance.
I squirm, shaking my head, biting my lip to fight the pain. He spanks me again and my ass bucks against his rigid pelvis. My slippery entrance gives way and my back arches when his enormous girth slips inside me. I moan out in ecstatic wails, head tilted up toward the single ray of light illuminating the room.
Mr. Jameson pumps himself into my tight hole, gripping me by the waist. He grunts and groans with every
deep penetration, plundering my tiny asshole with vigorous thrusting.
“Yes! Fuck me!” My body jerks and spasms. My tight walls clenching around his magnificent size.
My head droops and I watch him entering me, my supple tits bouncing together, the tendons of his thighs flaring with every hump. There’s a strange pressure building above my hips as he stretches my tight insides. My dripping pussy flutters to the sensation of his giant balls slapping against my slit.
My legs shiver beneath me when I feel his girth slipping out of my clenched walls, my torso going limp over the couch’s arm, ass high in the air. It jiggles to another firm swipe across its scarlet cheeks, my startled yelp muffled in a throw pillow.
“Spread your legs.” He spanks the side of my thigh and my knees buckle, bowing outward, the weight of my lower half supported on curled tiptoes.
The tip of his engorged head slips between my sensitive lips, teases my clit. I can sense the pulse of each throbbing vein as it circles my virgin entrance. Is Mr. Jameson really going to enter me without a condom?
But the fears and the reservations fall away in the instant of being penetrated, with nothing between the beat of his stiff dick and the delicate walls of my tightness. Mr. Jameson groans as my pussy gives way to his size, quivering, accepting him inside me.
I wince at first to the pain, clutching the couch cushions and stifling a scream. But it quickly fades in the electric stimulation of his cock spreading me apart. My walls wraps tight around every inch, taking him inside with a wet, warm embrace.
“You’re so fucking… tight!” Mr. Jameson moans, thrusting himself deeper. I buck my ass against his hips to match him, and my eyes flutter when he bottoms out at my cervix. “Agh!!” He grunts, feeling the grip of my walls on his cock.
As my hips swivel against him, my body succumbs to the mounting pressure in my core. A liquid heat of ecstasy spills from within, exploring my insides, warming every extremity with electric fire. The orgasmic energy sends me into a fit of tremors as Mr. Jameson’s cock begins to twitch and swell at my cervix.
I moan out when I feel his hot spunk filling my uterus and my body writhes. My hips buck wildly against him, coaxing the cum from his dick while he pumps himself into me with orgasmic fervor. The thick stuff jets out in endless milky streams, coating every bit of my insides. We groan together, riding the wave of our climax, lost in a sea of bliss.
Mr. Jameson’s torso falls limp over the small of my back, slipping in the sweat of our bodies. He huffs and heaves, trembling on top of me, still ejaculating. My ass sways beneath his pelvis, milking every last drop of thick cum until I feel the weight of his body relax.
Lying there, ass battered and raw with Mr. Jameson balls deep in my pussy, I feel more content than I’ve ever felt.
And yet, there’s still something I have to get off my chest. It’d feel wrong not to disclose what’s been eating away at me ever since he started fucking me without a condom.
“There’s…something else I should tell you.” The truth is I’ve never been on any kind of birth control.
“I’m unprotected,” I say. Only this time I’m not talking about car insurance.
Filled by Santa
"Fuck you, Mom!" The brass knob bounces against the firmness of my big ass as the door behind me slams shut. I'm used to my giant ass getting in the way, but it's embarrassing when I'm trying to make a point. It's worth having though, even if just to watch the guys drool over.
I'm totally over my mom's bullshit, though. She has been such a bitch to me ever since I started hanging over at Mr. Michael's house. I'm nineteen fucking years old now--it's time for her to get off my shit.
"You're just trying to use that poor man! You just want him to fuck you like the little slut that you are." It might be true, but she's still a bitch. I won't tolerate that sort of promiscuity in my house! Get out!"
So I left. And I won't be coming back, either. Who gives a fuck if it's Christmas Eve? I'm going to stay over at Mr. Michael's house tonight. And I'm going to be damn sure to get him in my pants this time.
Besides, every man deserves to know what it's like to be with a confident woman. Mr. Michaels should know what it feels like to put himself balls deep inside a tight pussy. I want him to know the pleasure of fucking this fine ass from behind, watching my pussy swallow his enormous cock.
I'll squeeze the base of his cock with the tightness of pussy while he's gripping my ass, desperate not to cum inside. Too bad for Mr. Michaels--I'm a naughty little bitch when it comes to getting I want. As hard as he'll try to stop himself, I'm going to work his cock like an expert whore until he fills my insides.
Then I'll taste his semen when it drips from my hole and moan for more.
The truth is I want Mr. Michaels to get me pregnant. I fell in love with the idea of having a kid when I started babysitting his son. I want to have a child just like his cute little Billy, and Mr. Michaels is the perfect father.
He's intelligent, handsome, and most importantly, super rich. Ever since Mr. Michaels started paying me to watch his kid three times a week I've been looking for any opportunity to seduce the man. Lord knows I've tried.
I desperately want to know what it's like to have a life growing inside me. My maternal instinct craves the safety and security of a man like Mr. Michaels who has shit together. And I would be a kick ass housewife for him. He'd never have to worry about the house chores, and I'd always be that tight, warm pussy to come home to.
Mr. Michaels doesn't even know that I'm a virgin. But that doesn't mean I don't know how to work it. I've seen enough porn to know what a guy wants. And hell, I'd let him do just about anything to me, so long as I don't have to deal with my broke ass, lazy bitch mother anymore.
More than anything I want Mr. Michaels to cum inside me. I fantasize about him taking me however he likes and finishing by ejaculating his seed deep up inside me. Mr. Michaels will make me a mother.
******
I show up in my sluttiest outfit, wearing a tight black skirt so short that part of my ass is peeking out the bottom. When he answers the door his eyes go wide in shock. I think I caught his lip trembling when he stutters,
"C--Carmen. Please, c--come in." Someone is gonna be cumming. "Billy is down for a nap. I'm glad you’re here. I need to run out for a bit."
"What's the rush?" I asked, placing a soft hand gently on his shoulder. I start to message the area a bit, saying, "You look so stressed. Here--let me relax you a bit before you go..." I motion for him to follow me down the hallway, toward the couch in the living room.
The interior of Mr. Michael's house is illuminated by colorful blinking lights. The colors of Christmas that bring back the few fond memories of me and Mom, happy together so many years ago.
The giant tree in the corner across from the fireplace is beautifully decorated. There is a pile of finely wrapped presents, enough stacked on top one another to fill the full space at the base of the tree.
He must have had a professional do it for him, because I know he sure as hell isn't that creative. That or he's banging some other chick I don't know about yet. After tonight though, I'll be the only woman in his life from now on, you can be sure of that. Mr. Michaels is my man now.
"Oh! What's that?" I ask, pointing to the mistletoe hanging above the entrance to the living room, pretending to act surprised. "You know what that means..." I giggle, smiling like the clever little slut that I am. I had put it up there the last time I was here in preparation for tonight.
Mr. Michaels takes a quick half step backward, looking stunned. I roll my eyes at him playfully. "It's just a little kiss, silly!" I take a bold step toward him and giggle again as he cowers away slightly. I move in closer to reach a hand behind his neck. My fingers travel smoothly, up the nape of his neck and comb through his dark hair.
I apply a bit of force from behind, compelling him to come closer. My lips part a bit, and my tongue emerges, tracing a slow, sensual circle around my lips. Mr. Michaels is still resisting,
so I tug on his head with a bit more pressure.
Then he rushes in for a quick, awkward peck on the cheek and pulls away, avoiding eye contact and shifting his weight. This is going to be harder than I thought.
"No, no! A real kiss!" I stamp my feet and my lips curl with a devilish grin. No way I was going to let him get off that easy. Mr. Michaels lets out an exasperated sigh. He's acting like a stubborn child.
"Carmen, I--" he pauses to cough, then continues, "I just don't think that would be appropriate..."
"Have you ever been with a virgin?" I ask, completely undeterred. Mr. Michaels shakes his head in disbelief.
Over the Couch Page 25