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 in 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 s
eed 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?
Fully Stuffed
I don’t even want to be a sorority girl. I could never imagine myself as one of those prissy bitches, strutting around campus with a designer bag paid for by Daddy’s trust fund.
I’ve got too many curves, for one thing. It’s not like I’d ever fit into any of those high fashion brands for super skinny chicks. Hell, I can’t even remember the last time I liked what I was wearing.
And they’re always so damn perky. That fake kind of nice, where they pretend to like you then talk all kinds of crap about you behind your back.
They can go and on about the most mundane shit, totally content with endless conversation about the most recent gossip. It’s nauseating. I never cared about any of that. I’m way too focused on my studies right now to waste my time with that stuff.
But here I am, on my way to interview with Triple Pi. You could say I’ve lost all sense of self-respect—except, I’m not doing it for me.
The truth is I’m doing it because of Brent—because he asked me to.
But then, I’d have my legs spread eagle faster than he could say, “Can I fuck you?” if he ever did. Not that he would, I’m just saying.
And that’s because Brent is the man I want to marry one day. I mean, we only just met, but I really hope we do.
He’s actually the first and only guy who has talked to me since I moved into the dorms last week. I wish it were because he wanted to, but really it’s just that he had to. Brent is the dorm supervisor, so he was the one to show me around when I first got there.
And when I first saw him, it was an instant crush. Like getting hit with a sledgehammer. I couldn’t even form words when he introduced himself. Like I forgot how to speak English all of a sudden.
He extended his hand and his gaze held me in a state of suspension. I couldn’t believe those eyes; dark hazel swimming around pupils that bore through to my soul.
“I’m Brent,” he said.
“I’m—hello, you—I mean, I’m Brent—no, I am Kat.”
“Hi Kat,” he said with a genuine smile, showing his perfect teeth. It sure looked genuine, anyway.
His presence was dominating. Standing there in the tiny dorm hallway, he could have been a giant. His massive bicep flexed ever so slightly at the extension of his arm, leading up to broad shoulders so wide he barely fit between the narrow walls. His white V-neck shirt was tight against the muscle mounds of his torso. I’d never felt so much wetness between my legs.
My thoughts were lost in a fog. Basic motor functions were foreign to me.
He held his hand there for a long time, then looked puzzled as to why I hadn’t shaken it yet. He shrugged and retreated the hand to brush back a thread of black hair. It was s smooth, fluid motion that escaped the awkwardness of the moment. Unlike me.
“How do you like your room?” He said. My room? It was a total mess of unpacked boxes and still is. There’s no hot water and it’s smaller than an office cubicle. A complete shitwreck.
“I—I really like it,” I said, still staring at him. I must have looked like a complete psycho. I hadn’t even showered or brushed my hair that morning. Of course, I wasn’t exactly expecting I’d meet the man of my dreams.
“Really? A lot of people get pissed about getting stuck in the West building.”
“Do—do they?”
“Yeah, it’s in serious need of a renovation. Place it totally falling apart.”
“Oh I guess it is—does,” I say, followed by an awkward giggle. My weight shifts to one leg. I couldn’t believe how flustered I was in front of Brent. It’s like I was suddenly back in high school, giddy and crushing hard on a guy I just met.
“So, have you looked over the dorm rules yet?” About twenty times already. They’re plastered on pretty much every surface area of the entire building.
“Just once or twice—a couple times—I think.”
“Good,” he flashes another cool smile, his eyes glinting in the dim light, “just remember no visitors after nine. Come on, let me show you around.”
And so the rest of the tour continued in this fashion; me staring at him like a lunatic, blubbering incoherently each time I spoke. I found myself mesmerized by every word, every syllable from his mouth about dorm policy and how the toilets tend to clog.
Actually, I wasn’t paying much attention to what he was saying.
And so it hit me like a ton of bricks when he asked me, “Are you doing anything tonight?”
I think my throat hit the floor when he said it.
Was he asking me out? Like, on a date? My cheeks went flush—I forgot how to breathe.
“Because I’m supposed to tell girls in the West building about joining Triple Pi.” Oh, I guess not. I exhaled a long disappointed sigh and he sort of looked at me funny, then continued. “They like to meet freshmen to find out if they’d be a good fit for their sorority.”
I can’t believe I even let myself think for a moment that he was interested in me. I felt like such an idiot.
But then my eyes lit up at what he said next.
“I’ll be there.”
I think my head would have fallen off if I nodded any faster. I made an affirmative squeak that sounded like my lungs had given out. My face was glowing neon red by that point.
“Okay then. Tonight at eight.” His arm came out halfway for a handshake then paused. He studied me for a brief second, then brought the hand back to his side. “Well… see you then.”
Then he turned opposite from me and went on down the hallway. I just stood there, frozen in place for a good minute or two. My knees were all jittery and barely supported my weight. The heat between my legs was slick with desire for Brent. My pussy throbbed and ached with a new kind of passion.
I don’t know what the heck a male would be doing at sorority house, but I sure as hell know that I don’t care. All that matters is that Brent is going to be there.
******
I crane my neck to read the Greek letters above the big white sorority house, whispering them aloud. “Triple Pi.” It sounds exactly like the kind of club I swore I’d never belong to when I went to college.
But none of that matters now, because Brent is inside.
I gather my courage and step along the narrow brick pathway lined on either side with purple poppies. It’s obvious they had the money to pay for a professional landscaper.
My black heels click on the brick tiles leading up to the steps of the porch, and I can’t help feeling self-conscious.
I had on my favorite white blouse and a black skirt that I thought made my ass look pretty hot. Thankfully my hair was cooperative after about an hour of curling and primping, and fell elegantly over my shoulders. I was feeling pretty confident in front of the mirror before I left, but my self-esteem has completely betrayed me at this point.
The truth is I really don’t care so much about making an impression on the sorority girls as I do Brent.
As I approach the double doors of the house, one of the ornate brass handles turns on its own.
The door cracks open and a petite head comes out of it. She’s got pigtails tied with red and white polka
dot ribbons and thick-framed glasses. A lot more bookish than I was expecting. Certainly not the fashionista I thought would greet me.
“Oh—it’s you,” she says, looking me up and down. Her eyes are dismissive, her expression standoffish. She glares at my blouse like I’ve committed some sort of fashion sin. “Come on, Madeline is waiting for you.” Her attention remains fixed on my cleavage as her head retreats back through the crack. I don’t think she looked at my face even once. What a bitch.
She leaves the door cracked so I have to open it the rest of the way to enter.
Immediately I’m hit with a waft of heavy perfume. The air is dense with an intoxicating mix of floral scents worse than my grandmother’s retirement home. It’s enough to make my eyes water.
The Rough Stuff Page 5