"I've been thinking..." I pause a moment, deciding whether I should follow through. "I want you to fuck me and cum inside me." Mr. Kent's eyes go wide in disbelief. "I want you to put a baby in me, Mr. Kent." I go back down on his cock, hoping for an answer.
"Your wife will never have to know," I say through gargled words and drool a line of spit down his shaft.
Mr. Kent tilts his neck back as he moans. I can tell he is enjoying me slobbering along his thick cock. I force him way back in my throat until I have to gag and come up for air.
Wiping a trail of saliva from my chin, I tell him, "This can be out little secret." Mr. Kent lets out a heavy sigh and gives a subtle shrug with his shoulders. He grips a hand firmly at the back of my head and a grin stretches wide across my face. With a forceful jerk from behind I am back down on his cock.
He pushes me deep, further than I could go on my own. I start to gag again but his hand holds me down. I lap my tongue against his rock hard shaft and squint my eyes to help get it all in.
Another gag and I'm down all the way, drooling at his balls. Mr. Kent continues to hold me until my nose is nuzzled into his pubic hair. I can't believe I'd managed to deep throat the entire thing.
Becoming choked of air, I hit against his thigh with an open palm, trying to signal him to let me up. But still he continues to hold me down as I gag wildly and swivel my head around his whole cock.
Tears are rolling down my cheeks and mixing with thick globs of dark mascara. Another gush of saliva coats Mr. Kent's balls as I push myself up against his force with both hands on his thighs.
Finally, he releases me and I gasp for air as his entire cock slides out from the suction of my lips.
"Well then, let's take a look at that little virgin pussy shall we?" I yelp as he lifts me by the shoulders and twists me around so my ass is up in the air close to his face.
I feel the tip of Mr. Kent's nose graze between my folds as he sniffs. The scent of my wet teenage cunt must be making him wild.
He inserts two finger tips at the entrance of my wet hole. A thin string of my juices connects us as he pulls them back for a taste.
"Mmm...” he moans, "Tastes sweet." After a momentary pause, I feel a stinging pain on one cheek and squeal. The sound of his hard slap on my ass echoes in the the living room. Mr. Kent pinches the cheek skin and jostles it around before coming down hard with his palm for another slap.
"Ungh!” I squeal louder this time.
"So this is what you want?" Mr. Kent hits the other cheek with a back hand swing. The pain of his blow shoots through my spine and my back arches as I scream.
"You want me to fuck you like a little whore and get you pregnant?" Another hand lands hard on both sides of my tender cheeks. My hips writhe in pleasure as I let out a deep moan. The skin that was pale white is now raw and crimson.
The pain of it all has got me so wet that some juices are running down between the gap of my thighs.
"Well?” Again and again, Mr. Kent spanks my naughty virgin ass.
“Yes...” I manage a soft whimper.
"What was that?" He grabs me by the hair and yanks my head back, getting his ear close my mouth. "I can't hear you." He whispers.
"Yes!" I scream. "I want it!"
"You want what?" He whispers again.
"I want you to cum in my tight pussy... please!"
I hear the thud of Mr. Kent's belt buckle hitting the floor. He grips me on both sides of the waist and pulls me against his member. The shaft slips between my cheeks and slides smoothly down the lubricated crack.
He rubs the head around on my clit and the sensation causes my knees to buckle. My torso goes limp at the waist but Mr. Kent keeps my ass held up to his crotch.
The tip of him presses into my entrance just slightly, then travels back down to stimulate my clit some more. A drip of thick precum dribbles out from him and oozes down to my thighs. The sweat sheen of my bare back glistens in the light of the static white television screen.
And then, almost without warning, Mr. Kent enters me. My tight vaginal walls squeeze the girth of him as he pushes in deeper. The sensation is enough to blur my vision. I whimper, biting my bottom lip while trying to contain the scream that was building in my throat.
"Oh, god!” I yell. He pushes deeper and deeper, and I'm surprised at how am I able to take him whole inside me. Mr. Kent's cock bottoms out and my hips jolt. It hurt a little bit, but the pain is masked by the overwhelming pleasure of his cock filling every inch of me.
He pushes against my ass to slide back out until the tip is just barely inside me. Then his pelvis thrusts forward quick and rough, and I gasp. Mr. Kent pounds my pussy like this again and again, going balls deep with every thrust. My hips buck involuntarily each time he slams against my cervix.
The familiar tingling that is building in my core is nothing like when I pleasure myself with a dildo. This feeling is much more intense, and it’s rising like a fire in the very depths of me.
My ass twitches as a drop of sweat from Mr. Kent's forehead falls to the small of my back while he grunts like an animal, drilling me from behind.
"Do it!" I yell, clenching my walls tight to coax his head into squirting. "Cum inside me!" With another loud grunt and a final thrust, he impales me with the whole of his cock. The inside of me suddenly feels dripping wet, and my entire body spasms as I am overcome by waves of euphoria.
Mr. Kent struggles to hold himself up by my ass as he shakes violently against me. We moan together, long and hard. The head of his cock pulsates again and again, spraying his entire load deep inside of me.
There is enough of it that I can feel his cum dribbling out of me, oozing between my thighs and down his ball sac.
My mind goes blank, and we collapse onto the couch together. His cock shoots the last of his seed into me and my pussy quivers with delight. I glide along his shaft some more, savoring the sensation of my first real orgasm as his cock continues to throb and cum inside of me. Mr. Kent has made me a mother.
As we lie there, I match my breathing with his. I wonder if Mr. Kent will be there to help me raise my own little Charlie.
"Now get up," he snaps, "And get your clothes back on for god's sake." There is a tone of regret in his voice.
"D--Do you think that we'll be together now?" I ask timidly.
"Look, I just need you out of my house. Right now."
I scramble to get my clothes back on while he's rifling through the pocket of his jeans.
"Here, I still want to pay you for your time." Mr. Kent hands me triple what I normally get for one night of watching Charlie.
"But that's too--"
"Take it, and get out!" He yells.
Sobbing and confused, I take the money. Then I'm out the door without even taking the time to get my bra on underneath my tank top. I don't know why he was acting this way, but it didn't matter now. Mr.
Kent had paid me and kicked me out like a little whore, but I got what I needed from him. More of his thick spunk drips out of my soggy pussy and soaks the inside of my panties.
Mrs. Kent's car pulls into the driveway as I'm walking away from the house, but she doesn't see me. I can't help but giggle at the sight of her. She doesn't have a clue that her husband just impregnated the babysitter.
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?
&nbs
p; 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 we 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?
The Rough Stuff Page 11