by Miley Milque
"Mmm..." he moans, and I begin to wonder if he's ever going to come up for air. His tongue circles my clit some more and my body writhes.
Then I gasp when I feel the tip of it pushing against my asshole. It forces its way just inside and waggles about, stimulating nerves I never knew existed. I have to bite down harder on my lip just to stop myself from screaming.
I bet he never did that for his wife. Mr. Miller really is enjoying this, isn't he?
At last, he pulls back to take in a huge breath. He spins me around and wastes no time lifting off my tight pink shirt. He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me forward. My back arches as I reach around to get at my bra; my tits burst free and jiggle in Mr. Miller’s face.
Then he opens wide and stuffs one breast into his mouth. With eyes closed, he sucks passionately on my nipple, flicking his tongue wildly around the areola. I hold his head against my tit, moaning as my head tilts back and my long hair sweeps across the curve of my spine.
I hold him there for a long while, enjoying the sensation of electric tingles running up my neck.
Then he releases the tight seal on my breast and it falls against my chest. The suction of his lips has turned my nipple blood red. He stands up from the bed and brings me in close before plunging his tongue into my mouth.
He grabs hold of one ass cheek and pinches it hard as we make out.
At last, he is giving in to desire. When our lips peel apart, I turn myself around and bend over while lifting up my skirt to ask,
"Are you ready to fuck me, Mr. Miller?" He takes a rough grip on the sides of my ass and plants the tip of his cock against my sacrum. The shaft inserts itself between my cheeks and glides along my crack, lubricated by my wet juices and his own saliva.
Bent over and still holding my skirt up, I turn my head to tell him,
"I want you inside me..." I lick my tongue around at the corner of my mouth and spread my ass cheeks wide.
"But, what if..." he says, and I can feel his hands trembling slightly. He must be worried that I might get pregnant. But it means more to me that I give him the best orgasm of his life. I have finally turned his thoughts away from his wife.
There is no way I'm going to let him stop now. Once I get him to enter me, she will be the last thing on his mind.
"Fuck me Mr. Miller... Please!" He uses a thumb to push down on the neck of his shaft so the tip is aligned with my quivering wet entrance. I buck my hips backward against his cock and the tip of it compresses between my folds.
As he pushes deeper, I can feel the tightness of my entrance giving way to his throbbing dick. He is almost inside me now.
He grabs hold of my hips with apprehension and I feel the force of his hands pulling me backward onto his cock. The head of it slips in the wetness of my tight entrance and my body jolts as the girth of him spreads my insides apart. The size of him is enough to make me flinch.
As he enters me, my tight walls squeeze around his dick down the neck. The pulse of his cock beats inside me, shooting tingles down to my toes. My legs quake and my knees knock together. I am having trouble standing.
He spreads his legs for balance and continues to guide my pussy along his shaft. We moan together when my tightness is wrapped around his entire length.
Mr. Miller’s cock slides in the wet juices of my pussy until his balls reach my labia. My hips buck against him out of reflex when his head bottoms out at my cervix.
There is a subtle pain in all of it, but it is quickly masked by the euphoric shivers running up my spine.
My back arches and he puts a hand on my shoulder to hold me in place on his cock. My ass clenches and my walls squeeze even tighter around the whole of his dick.
With the hands on my hip and shoulder, he begins rocking me back and forth along the length of his shaft. My fluids coat his cock in a wet sheen that reflects the dim light of the bedroom.
Again and again, he jerks me forward and back. He pulls out so his tip is just inside me, then impales me on his cock until he is balls deep. His thrusting is becoming increasingly rapid and forceful. Mr. Miller is taking me like his little whore, just the way I wanted.
As he fucks me from behind, I smile at the thought of him finding so much enjoyment in taking my body any way he wants. Now I can give him everything that he deserves.
While Mr. Miller’s hips beat against me, I reach around to grab hold of his ass and assist his wild thrusting. He huffs and groans as warm beads of sweat land on the small of my back and pool there. I buck my ass against him as I push from behind, squeezing my walls tight as I can.
Then I feel the familiar twitch of his head tickling my cervix. I think he might be getting ready to cum. Is he really going to do it? Is he actually going to shoot his load up inside me?
"Mr. Miller I'm--I'm not on the pill..." He continues his forceful thrusting into the depths of my pussy. I'm not sure he even heard me over the sound of his grunting. His cock twitches inside me again, and I think he may be committed.
He already made up his mind about this before he stuck his cock in me.
The fear begins to subside in the euphoric energy building deep in my core. His throbbing dick drills into me, slipping and sliding in the deluge of juices gushing from my quivering pussy.
My whole torso shudders. I would fall over if it weren't for him clinging to my ass.
"Beth, I'm--I'm going to--" He is going to get me pregnant for sure. But none of that matters anymore. It just feels too fucking good to worry about any of that now. If this is what it takes to finally make him happy again, then I will coax every single drop of semen from his cock.
The head of his stiff dick slams into my cervix and it sends me over the edge into ecstasy. My body writhes and my legs clamp together and I scream out.
My pink fingernails dig deep into his ass to hold him inside as the explosion of orgasmic energy flows out from my core and tingles in every extremity.
"Fuck! I'm gonna fucking cum!" He yells. I gyrate my hips and work the whole of his cock as my walls contract reflexively upon reaching climax. Then I gasp when I feel his warm spunk spilling into my uterus.
I can't believe he actually did it! We moan together in mutual ecstasy as my tight pussy glides up and down along his cock, milking every bit of cum from his dick.
His massive load fills all of my insides; a torrential stream of fluids gushes out from me and trickles down his balls.
He spasms against me, then goes limp at the waist. His cheek rests upon my arched spine and his knees buckle.
We collapse together on the carpet floor. He lands on top of me while his cock continues to shudder and spurt more of his seed into me. As we lie there panting in unison, basking in the afterglow of climax, I know that I now carry his child.
I am in the most fertile period of my menstrual cycle after all. I may have forgotten to mention that to Mr. Miller, but I did warn him that I wasn't on the pill.
Then he grunts and rolls off of me onto his back and I know instantly that it was all worth it. Mr. Miller is finally smiling again.
PUNISHED BY HER BOSS
CHAPTER ONE
The swish of the swinging kitchen door affords me intermittent glimpses of the lavish banquet hall where the rich gather in small pockets around various food stations. Why hadn't I supervised the banquet staff when they put up the stations?
Instead of venturing out beyond the safety of the large kitchen I stayed on the sidelines watching as people ate my food out of order. When Mr. Stone hired me as caterer for his black tie party he'd given me free reign over the menu stating only that he wanted a theme.
Fine, I could handle themes. I loved themes. But the theme had a set pattern. A flow. Eating the food in the wrong order wasn't the end of the world but I knew his guests would love it even more than they already appeared to if their palettes had consumed the food in the order it was meant to be eaten.
A waitress rushed into the kitchen carrying empty trays. Though it wasn't her job she picked up another tray of the chicken
dish and brought it out to replenish the empty station. I watched the guests mill about.
The fake laughs, bored stares and false compliments made me feel even more out of place than I already felt. Back home you didn't pretend to like someone just to convince them to do business with you.
You were honest. Treated people honestly and that came back to you a hundred fold.
A flash of light from the chandelier glinted off a woman's diamond necklace. One stone from her jewelry would have fed my family for a month I guessed. Not that I regretted growing up poor.
You learned to get by with less but we'd still been happy. And you don't miss what you never had. Now that I was standing here so close to the wealth I still felt so very far away.
A little catering business wouldn't keep me in diamonds and designer dresses.
I looked down at my simple black dress that hugged my curves. I couldn't afford another one so I had to make due with last year's clothes. Since buying it I'd put on a few more pounds, rounded out my hips, swelling my breasts.
At least the dress still covered everything and it wasn't too tight. Yet.
I watched Mr. Stone's guests as they ate my food. Eyes fluttered closed and faint moans of delight reached the kitchen. One lady popped a morsel of chicken in her mouth then grabbed five more from the tray eating each one slower than the last.
Screwing up my courage I lifted a hand to the door prepared to push and walk into the dining area. A giggle floated through the air mingled with the sound of clinking cutlery.
I pulled my hand back and walked to the kitchen sink. My stomach grumbled as the smell of food filled my nostrils. I'd been so nervous getting everything ready for the party I hadn't eaten anything since lunch.
I walked back to the door again. I could do this. They were just people. Rich, beautiful, thin people who could ruin me if they hated the food.
As the caterer should I even attempt to mingle with them? There was no way I was going to get over my fears unless I confronted them.
I squared my shoulders and pushed through the door.
I scanned the room searching for Mr. Stone. Not that it would help even if I did spot him. I had no idea what the man looked like. All of our business had been conducted over the phone or through email. His avatar for his email was his company logo not a picture of the man himself.
"Have you tried the chicken? You simply must. It's to die for." A woman in a long black slinky dress held our her arm stopping me from moving any farther into the room.
"Thank you," I said.
She looked at me quizzically.
"I'm the caterer."
"My dear, you are a genius with food. I love this."
I felt a rush of heat to my cheeks. The more they liked my food the more chances I had of landing other catering jobs. I pulled out a small stack of business cards and put a few on the table beside the chicken.
I nodded my thanks at the woman then I made my way to another station. This one was laden high with my sweets. Family recipes mixed in with new recipes gave the offerings a mix of old and new. Comforting, familiar sweets mixed with new delights.
Surreptitiously checking the room again to make sure no one was watching, I placed a few business cards on the table.
If I'd known how hard it would be to muster up business I might have stayed in the South instead of moving to LA for a fresh start. Who was I kidding? As much as I loved home there was only so much business I could do there.
My home town wasn't exactly known for their fancy soirees. Los Angeles was the best place for me I just wish I fit in better here.
Another group of rich people milled about my appetizer station. I waited for them to move off but they hovered around the food like it was the last morsels on earth.
When another waitress arrived to refill the station they parted to allow her access then pounced on the appetizers as soon as she moved away.
From across the room I watched a handsome gentleman wearing a perfectly fitted tuxedo work the room. He smiled as he went, shaking hands with the men, brushing air kisses on the women's cheeks.
He stopped at my entree station and popped a bite into his mouth. His eyes fluttered closed, he tilted his back slightly. He chewed slowly, swallowed. Then he piled a plate with my chicken pieces with only a dollop of the rice.
I watched his long elegant fingers, his strong hands, wondering who he was. I still didn't know all the players in town when it came to high society. Sure, the celebrities were easy.
I saw them all the time on TV, in movies, splashed on the cover of grocery store rag magazines. But the wealthy were rich without the flash for the most part. Unless a paper or a magazine did a piece on them for some philanthropic gesture they tended to fade to the back of my mind.
I hated that I'd been star struck when I first arrived. I should have been paying more attention to who else attended the parties. I still had no idea how Mr. Stone had found me but I wasn't looking a gift horse in the mouth. I hoped he liked everything and would hire me again.
The man I'd been watching moved to another station still carrying his plate of rapidly dwindling chicken. He clapped another man on the back when he finally arrived at the appetizer station.
He glanced up at me and flashed a smile. I smiled back wanting the column I stood beside to swallow me. I felt like the help.
He popped the last pieces of chicken into his mouth and piled his plate with appetizers. The stations were so out of order I cringed when he took a bite of the pot sticker. He didn't seem to notice. He nodded, chewing his food as a smile spread across his angular face.
"Beth, come meet some people." He said in my direction.
I looked around to see if there was anyone standing near me. He chuckled and motioned me over again.
I shuffled over, eyes focused on the floor.
"Beth, I'm Mr. Stone." He took my hand, the heat from his touch travelled up my body and set off sparks of awareness. The light brush of his lips on my hand made my knees weak.
Slickening heat settled between my legs. With a brief touch on my hand my pussy throbbed to life with aching awareness of Mr. Stone.
"Mr. Stone, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," I said looking up into impossibly blue eyes. The grin he flashed me set my heart racing.
"The pleasure is all mine, Beth. Tell me about your menu. It's quite interesting."
He moved his hand to the small of my back sending a jolt of sensation through me. Even through the thick material I felt the warmth of his hand.
"Well, it's a collection really. Of lots of different foods. Flavors I mean. Lots of different flavors."
Heat tinged my cheeks and I wanted the floor to swallow me whole now. His smile widened. Those blue eyes gazed into mine until I felt like we were the only two people in the room.
He took a deep breath and I matched his breathing. It helped a little. I felt a little more calm. But then I opened my mouth to speak and the calm evaporated.
"So chicken. Spices. You know spices that go with chicken. And sweets! I have sweets."
Why did he keep staring at me like he could devour me? He moved a little closer until I nestled flush against his body. His hand moved up from the small of my back to rest on my shoulder.
Heat rushed between my legs again. Months since the last time I'd had sex, the slightest contact from a handsome man had my pussy wet and willing. How would I get through the rest of the evening if Mr. Stone kept touching me?
I wanted him to touch other places. I wanted his hands between my legs or cupping my breasts. Strong hands with long fingers, he could work magic on me.
I sucked in a breath and tried to focus on the faces in front of me. The amused faces with eyes that sparkled under the dim lights. All attention was focused on me and I wanted to crawl away.
Wanted to retreat to the kitchen where it was safe and no one asked me about my menu. No one cared what was in it or how long it took to make. They simply refilled the empty dishes, cleared tables and loaded the
dishwasher.
"Good to know. There are spices. I got that from the few pieces I had." Mr. Stone squeezed my shoulder reassuringly.
"They are delicious, my dear," the woman with the black slinky dress said as she approached the station.
I flashed her a smile of thanks afraid I would ramble again if I tried to speak.
"I was just about to try the sweets," he gestured to the confectionery table. "Am I to assume they're sweet?"
Mortified, I nodded. "I'm sorry, Mr. Stone. I usually hang around the kitchen. I'm not used to people asking me what's in the food."
"You really should mingle more then, Beth. The guests appear to love the food. It's quite good. You're a talented chef."