Masturbation is always an easy way to release tension. I sit up and let my shoulders drop with a heavy sigh.
Even if he isn’t going to fuck me the way I want him to, I still know how to please myself. The thought of pounding my wet pussy with a giant dildo the size of Mr. Peterson’s cock has me cheering up already.
I stick my thumbs down either side of my tight yoga shorts and slip them off to reveal my trimmed pussy underneath. I had purposely gone without panties today, knowing it was last chance to seduce Mr. Peterson before I would see him again for at least six months.
But after what just happened, he probably won’t even ask me to come visit back home during winter break.
Trying to ignore the thoughts of embarrassment and rejection racing through my mind, I lean back against the wall alongside my small bed. My eyes drift closed as fingers trace lightly from my belly button down to my crotch.
Then I spread my legs wide in the air. I rub small circles on my clit, which is still wet form the thrill of sucking Mr. Peterson’s cock, with the tip of a middle finger. Electric shivers fire up my spine; my body shudders atop the sheets.
I insert two fingers just inside my tight hole and imagine Mr. Peterson mounting me, drilling me like the dirty little whore he knows I am.
My hips buck upward and gyrate in the air as the fingers curl inside me and brush my G-spot. My tank top is still hanging low; my exposed breasts heave with every deep inhale.
The sheen of sweat covering my torso glistens in the ray of sunlight coming through the cheap blinds behind me.
Then my whole body goes tense; my eyes shoot wide open at a sound coming from across the room. Someone just burst into my fucking dorm room unannounced.
“T—Tammy?” I lift my head to look up at Mr. Peterson staring back at me with two fingers knuckle deep in my pussy. My legs are spread eagle; my shaved asshole is in full view. Totally shocked and taken by surprise, I yelp and drop my feet to the floor. Then I sit up in bed and cock my head, looking perplexed.
“Mr. Peterson? I thought you left already…”
“I’m so sorry Tammy, I—there was one more box outside we forgot about.” The box he is carrying clangs with the sound of silverware as he steps into the room and nudges the door closed behind him.
“Oh…” I say, bending over to find my shorts.
“And, there’s one more thing…” he says, setting the box down on the floor. “I wanted to apologize for earlier.”
“It’s really my fault—I…”
“The truth is…” I sit up straight again, leaving my shorts on the floor a moment to listen. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge that I’m completely naked in front of him, or that he just walked in on me masturbating.
He is having trouble finding the words to tell me what he is so sorry for.
I get up off the bed and walk over to him. I reach my arms out for an embrace and wrap arms around his broad shoulders. As I hold him there, my bare tits press against the hardness of his pecs. Still, his arms remain at his sides and he’s looking down at the floor. What is he trying to tell me?
He lifts his head to look me in the eyes and says,
“You were right.” My face lights up at his words. There is a sudden rush of elation brimming between my legs. “I want to know what it feels like to be inside you…”
Mr. Peterson takes an assertive hold of my breast and gets his mouth around the nipple. He flicks his tongue all around it, sending euphoric tingles shooting through the length of my spine. I reach a hand around to the back of his head, combing through his hair while pressing him in closer to my chest.
“Oh, god! Mr. Peterson—I thought you were so angry with me…” His vigorous lapping on my nipple increases intensity. He cups the bottom of my breast to shove as much of it into his mouth as can fit. A firm hand grips beneath my ribcage, pushing me toward the bed.
He keeps his mouth locked around my tit as he guides me backwards. He is giving in fully to his desire for me now. The desire I always sensed was there since I was old enough to legally fuck.
Then he shoves me and I squeal with playful giddiness, landing hard against the springy mattress. I open my legs wide for him and he kneels on the floor to get his tongue at my soggy wet pussy. He holds my legs back and buries his face in my crotch, lapping and sucking with relish.
“Sweet enough for you, Mr. Peterson?” I say, giggling. I grip a large tuft of hair at the back of his head and shove his face in closer.
His tongue dances around my clit in a quick figure eight pattern. It darts between my wet folds and dives deep into my hole. “Ungh!” I guess I’ll take that as a resounding yes! My legs shudder and my vision blurs. Mr. Peterson is going to make me squirt if he keeps going like this.
I hold him down there, rocking my hips in sync with every passionate slurp and suck. In his eagerness to fuck me senseless, He works at the buckle of his pants without pause. Then my body jolts when his tongue circles the rim of my puckered asshole.
“Yes!” I raise my arms above my head, reveling in every sensation. It’s all so overwhelming. But I don’t want to cum before… “Mr. Peterson, I…”
“Uh-huh?” He grunts between slurps.
“I want you inside me.” He freezes in place. His eyes dart up at me from between my legs. Then he rises slowly, lifting off his shirt and revealing his toned body. He removes his glasses and tosses them to the floor.
He places his hands at my knees and pushes them down toward my ribcage. As he bends over to get himself between them, I feel the hardness of his shaft slipping on the wetness of my inner labia.
I can’t believe he is going to fuck me without a condom. I moan and catch his eyes to smile at him while reaching from underneath to tickle his scrotum. Mr. Peterson moans, dribbling precum between my folds.
With index and thumb wrapping lightly at the base, I guide his head to my wet entrance. My tightness wraps around the very tip of his head and I can’t help but wince. Mr. Peterson’s cock is just so big.
I curl my fingers around his balls and urge his cock inward with a gentle tug. He squints, feeling the smooth walls squeeze his head tight as it slips in.
“Fuck!” He yells as the shaft slides deeper inside me. His torso presses onto my shins and holds my knees down. I squeeze my walls tight as I can, feeling every inch of his cock enter me.
My legs jump and twitch when his cock taps my cervix. A sudden pain shoots through my insides. It hurts a little at first, but quickly subsides in the euphoric sensation of Mr. Peterson filling me whole.
His balls slap against my dripping wet asshole and I know his full length is inside me.
My wet juices coat his shaft as he pulls out to the neck just below the head, then plunges himself back in. Lost in the total bliss of my tightness around his entire cock, He begins thrusting wildly in and out.
I wrap my legs around his waist and we moan in unison as Mr. Peterson pounds the very depths of my pussy.
I clench my muscles as tight as they will go. Beads of sweat roll over Mr. Peterson’s pecs and fall on my bouncing tits. I press them together with both hands and give him a naughty little wink while licking around one of my hard nipples. He grunts and huffs with every impaling thrust into my tightness.
The head of his cock twitches against my cervix and I know he is getting ready to cum.
My arms reach around to grab his ass and help him drill me with encouraging pushes from behind. I work his hard cock in the air with my swiveling pelvis, gyrating and humping against his every thrust. A blissful tingling is rising within my core, surging through and exciting every nerve.
“Fuck, Tammy—you’re too fucking tight—I think I’m going to—” I sense him trying to pull out. I squeeze the legs around his waist tighter and pull him in closer by the ass to hold him there.
“No—stay inside me!” He struggles again to pull his cock out, but I want desperately for him cum in me and impregnate me. Then maybe I can give up this stupid college gig and live with Mr. Pet
erson forever. Mom can go to hell with her overbearing demands of me.
“But… what if—”
“Please Mr. Peterson! Just think of how good it will fee to cum inside me…” His cock twitches again. I can tell he is using every ounce of willpower to stop himself from ejaculating. I buck my hips wildly against his cock, holding him inside with the back of my calves against his clenched ass.
Then I feel the tension in his muscles relax. My walls clench tight around his shaft and coax his dick to cum. I can’t believe it—he’s going to do it!
“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.
Filled by the General and His Men
I must look pathetic. Here I am running in this sweltering desert heat--and for what? Because I can't learn to say 'no' to my boss? Because he takes advantage of me and likes to send me out to the middle of fucking nowhere? That jerk just wants to keep my career stagnant like his.
But I take it because I have to.
It's true. Being a journalist means you're either sucking up or sucking cocks. If it's not your boss's dick then it's some other dick. In my field, it's usually an agent I have to get through for an interview.
They're the gatekeepers, and I have to pay my toll. But if that's what it takes to succeed, then can put it up my ass for all I care. Lube is optional. I want it that bad.
So long as it's furthering my career, I'll go down on just about any guy. A quick blowjob under an office desk while the douchebag bitches to his secretary.
Or maybe just a handy if he's particularly busy--it's all part of the job description, really.
And nothing ever stops me from getting what I want. A meaningless fuck with a big suit who never got any in high school--you'd be surprised what a girl with sexy curves can do with a little ambition
And everything standing in my way has some sexual desire to exploit. Hell, I'll go down on women too if that's what they're into. A girl who doesn't mind a little scissor fucking is going places.
Both men and women alike can see what I have to offer. I've pretty much got it going on in all the right places. Beautiful curves and a luscious ass just begging to be spanked. Big tits pleading to be fucked. I've got it all, baby.
And most of the time I pride myself in having such a figure. A rubenesque slut who knows how to carry herself. I'm totally comfortable in my body. These curves could stop a man mid-stride. Hell, in any other situation I regard myself as pretty fucking hot.
Just not when it comes to exerting myself in this ridiculous, oppressive heat.
But here I am, running my ass off to catch an appointment like a hot mess. I certainly don't have a habit of being late, but I can't help moving slower in the desert. The heat fucks with my head and my sense of time.
It's not all bad, though. Here at an army base in the middle of all this sand and rock, there's plenty to look at. Hot Army studs built like marble in every direction.
The guy standing at the front gate checking my visitor pass is already making me wet.
"General Sanders is over at tent #23. Go right on through, Ms. Dalia." The guy says, waving me through the metal gate. He raises a hand to his beret and nods toward me with a cute, boyish smile. Mmmm... He'd be a fun little fuck.
His eyes shift sideways, toward me, when I pass him and my knees wobble a bit. With eyes fixed on my ass, he gives a cute little smirk. Enough to bring a girl to her knees just to suck his cock.
And I know just how good I could make that boy feel. I could lick and tease that cock of his for days if I wanted. I could keep him on the edge of orgasm just to see the look on his face.
He'd moan and beg for me to let him cum. I'd show him what it takes to be a real soldier before I let him shoot his own little soldiers into my mouth.
I'd guzzle his load like an expert whore, groping his balls and milking the shaft clean of every last drop. And then if his bunk mates wanted to be next, I'd show each of them what sort of pleasure I could give.
I'm more than capable of handling an entire squad.
All these poor guys must not be getting any. Stuck here in this shithole, they must be desperate for a shapely woman like me to do them a hell of a favor. I consider myself a patriot, after all.
If duty called, I know what my role would be--and it involves giving lots of head.
These men are the elite. They deserve to be treated as such. If I had to be their little cum whore, then so be it.
If I had to lie spread eagle on a shoddy bunk in a room full of soldiers while they came all over my body, in my mouth and in my hair, I'll do what my country demands of me.
Each one of them would get equal attention. I don't play favorites when it comes to men in service. I would make sure to slurp up every ounce of their semen like a good slut should. These men are marines. They deserve the best treatment I can offer.
Then when I am gone and they are left alone once again, without a single female within a hundred miles, I would have at least given them one hell of a memory to hold on to in desperate times. A good source for masturbation on lonely nights.
******
The base looks more like a campground with all its brown and green tents set out in rows. The wind was bustling, and many of the front flaps fluttered in the wind. Living here must be totally brutal.
But these men are tough. Rugged. True patriots. They live in a hellhole so the rest of us can live in a world of pleasure and entertainment. Soldiers like these need to feel the warmth of a busty woman like me.
It doesn't take me long to find tent #23. Each of the rows of tents have signs like a street would have, and they're named after famous war battles. The tent where General Sanders is waiting was on 'Battle of the Bulge'.
I wonder how big Mr. Sanders' bulge is...
"Good morning, Ms. Dalia..." General Sanders says, standing up from this office chair to greet me. When I move into shake his hand, he glances down at his wristwatch.
"S--Sorry I'm late," I hear myself stutter. The man's presence has me completely flustered. Sanders is built like a rock. He is tall and broad, with fierce eyes that penetrate and see through me. "It's not like me to--"
"We'll have to cut this short by about ten minutes. I have another appointment at O-eight-hundred. Sharp." His eyes squint a bit, putting emphasis on the last word. Fuck, if only he knew I wasn't usually like this...
"Yes, right. Well--shall we get started?" I say, finding an uncomfortable chair with metal legs. The general's expression is unchanged.
It is evident after only the first sixty seconds that this was a man of restraint. Of danger--of punctuality. A man who
has seen and been shaped by war. A man I want to feel between my legs.
"Ahem General Sanders, what would you say of the public opinion about your decision to--"
"I don't give a flying fuck about that," he says, and the tone of his voice makes me jolt. His stare is cold and dismissive. I take a moment to cross my legs, showing a good bit of bare thigh, and compose myself again to ask,
"What about the unfortunate loss of troops last week at--"
"Those men served their country bravely," he says sharply. The man hasn't blinked once since I sat down. There's no way the interview can continue this way, or I'm going to leave with nothing.
I'm on a mission here, just as much as any soldier in this camp.
The Rough Stuff Page 8