Messy Finishes... 18 Story Bundle of You Know What!

by Miley Milque

  "Please?" I grin and bring an index finger down my entrance. He body language is that of a man utterly conflicted.

  "I"m so wet for you, Mr. Parker..." But at long last, he has made the decision internally. Mr. Parker rises from the couch with a sudden determination.

  He gets up behind me and wraps his strong hands around my waist. I feel his nose graze the bottom of my spine, then it traces the line of my crack. I gasp when I feel the flat of his tongue tasting my pussy.

  "Ungh!" The sensation of Mr. Parker eating me out was surreal. His tongue lapped at my wetness, slurping and sucking, savoring the sweetness of my juices.

  I felt his tongue dart between my folds and make figure eights around my clit. I moan, long and hard. "Yes, Mr. Parker... Yes!"

  He pulls me in by the waist harder against his face. His eyes are squinted between my cheeks as he sucks and slobbers with relish.

  His long tongue curls around my mound to lick at my pubic hair and his moans are muffled between my ass cheeks.

  My legs shudder when I feel his warm breath on my puckered asshole. Mr. Parker's saliva drips from my hood while he's sucking my clit.

  His groans of delight trigger subtle vibrations of pleasure through my core. I hear his lips smacking when he finally pulls away for air to say,

  "God damn, Laura..." And I can't help but snicker gleefully. The moment I had fantasized about for so long was becoming reality. Mr. Parker is going to ravage me and give me the child I yearn for.

  I will take his giant, throbbing cock from behind and milk the cum out of him with my tight virgin walls. With his seed, I will have my own baby just like Brandon. And Mr. Parker will be there for me.

  He will support me and let me live in his beautiful home, where we can raise our child happily together.

  Just so long as his wife doesn't come home in time to catch us fucking.

  The taste of my pussy had sent him into a frenzy of lust. Mr. Parker is standing, fumbling at the black leather buckle of his pants with feverish determination. I'm still bent over in my platform pumps while he's unhooking the thing, shaking my ass playfully at his crotch to entice him further.

  He grabs my ass cheeks with both hands and I hear his pants fall the floor.

  His grip is fierce and tight as he pulls them apart. I wink my tiny asshole at him, giggling some more.

  "Are you ready to fuck me now, Mr. Parker?" My back arches when I feel the tip of him circling around the soft, sensitive flesh.

  His cock felt massive between my ass as he slid it up and down, gliding along the crack thoroughly lubricated by my juices. Then he squeezes my cheeks to sandwich his cock snug between them.

  His eyes roll back at the sensation of my soft warm flesh enveloping his member entirely. The length of him glides smoothly while he moans. The throbs of his shaft on my asshole send electric tingles that course through the very depths of my core.

  The friction of him along my crack has me gushing wet. My pussy quivers intensely with the anticipation of accepting the whole of him inside me.

  Then Mr. Parker releases his vulture grip on my ass to glide his palms up my sides, tickling his finger tips gently on my ribcage along the way.

  I gasp when his hands reach underneath to cup my supple breasts. I arch my back again and connect with the slippery sheen of sweat on his firm, protruding abdominal muscles. I feel his chest expand and contract against me as my own breaths become more rapid.

  "Please, Mr. Parker! I need your cock inside me!" I press against the hands holding my tits. "Fuck my tight virgin pussy until you cum!"

  And then I feel the tip of him spreading my lips apart. The girth of him fills the entrance of my wet hole and my walls clench out of reflex. I have to bite down hard on my lower lip to stop myself from screaming while he slides in deeper.

  He pulls me by the breasts to impale me on his enormous cock until he's balls deep. My wet juices ooze down his large sac when it slaps hard against my clit. I can't hold it any more.

  I scream out, writhing my hips against him as he bottoms out at my cervix. He's pumping every inch into me, swirling his cock around in the very depths of me and hitting my G-spot just perfect.

  The grip on my tits tightens like a vice. He squeezes my nipples hard between the thin cracks of his fingers and I scream again. The front of my long dark hair falls and clings to the sweat of my forehead.

  My tongue darts to the corner of my upper lip and my eyelids flutter as I moan with the increasing intensity of his thrusts.

  But then my eyes go wide at the sound of something outside.

  "Did you hear that?" I swear I'd heard the distinct sound of tires crunching atop gravel in the driveway. But Mr. Parker continues to pound me wildly from behind, grunting as beads of sweat fall from his chest and roll across the floral tattoo of my lower back.

  I don't think we have much time. I need him to finish inside me before his wife comes through that door.

  I reach around, clutching his bare cheeks and tugging him even closer against me. I buck my ass against his cock, slamming his balls harder against my clit. He groans, and my grip intensifies as I pull him into me as far as he will go.

  His head beats against my cervix, I stifle a whimper and my hips jolt.

  There is the sound of footsteps against concrete coming up to the door. My hips gyrate and my walls contract and release, trying to coax his load into me.

  His cock throbs hard against my walls as I hold him in place. The tingling warmth at my core continues to build. The subtle pulsations of his cock are enough to send me over the edge.

  The orgasmic electricity spreads to every extremity and I scream, throwing restraint to the wind as my mind goes blank with ecstasy. My body shudders and my walls continue to squeeze the girth of him.

  There is a fumbling and clanging of keys at the doorstep.

  "Please, Mr. Parker! I need your cum!" And in a final moan of resignation, Mr. Parker can no longer hold on. His legs shake violently as he shoots his load into the very depths of me. Light returns to my eyes when I feel his warm, thick spunk filling me whole.

  His torso spasms and his grip on my tits tightens, then releases slowly. Again and again his cock throbs and squirts more of his seed, enough so that a bit of it is dribbling out from my wet hole.

  The door handle jiggles and turns. I hear Mr. Parker's wife coming down the hallway.

  Mr. Parker's torso collapses onto my back and he can barely stand. The weight of him on top of me causes my knees to buckle and we fall to the floor. I strain my neck up to catch Mrs. Parker's eyes standing at the edge of the hallway.

  She blinks slowly and her chin drops, staring in utter shock and disbelief. We stare at one another a moment, then her expression changes quickly. She looks positively mortified at the sight of us on her living room carpet, and I can't help but feel a bit sorry for her.

  But I got what I came for.

  I feel the warmth and thickness of his spunk dripping between my legs and I know that he has given me a child. Their marriage cannot possibly not survive this. But Mr. Parker and I can be together at last.

  I will finally move out of my mother's house and live happily with him while we build a family of our own.

  His body is slumped on top of me, and I can still feel him cumming. I don't think he even noticed his wife come home. Mrs. Parker is still standing in the doorway, stunned and speechless.

  But all I can think about is how I can't wait to tell Mom that Mr. Parker had taken my virginity and impregnated me.

  Punishing Maddie

  When I stole Mr. Peterson’s credit card, it was a relatively harmless thing. At least at first.

  It’s not like I’m a klepto or anything like that. It was just a little bit of fun. Mostly to see if he’d notice. A girl has got to explore her naughty side once in awhile, you know?

  But the reality is that I’m a girl with expensive taste and a shit job that doesn’t afford luxuries.

  It was innocent enough in the beginning. F
irst it was a cute little skirt that was on sale. With a matching handbag. And just some shoes to complete the look. Totally harmless.

  Hell, Mr. Peterson even got to see me prancing around in those skimpy little outfits. I always get a kick out of watching the bulge in his pants get bigger whenever I stop by to say hello.

  It’s fun watching him try to hold his attention on my face instead of on my busty tits in a low cut tank. I know he likes to catch glimpses of my tight round ass whenever I give him the right angle. It’s good fun teasing him with a little show.

  He just doesn’t know he’s paying for all of it.

  I sort of figured the card would start getting declined, at least at some point.

  But it kept going through. It was like having a rich boyfriend in my pocket. My little magic plastic buddy who could conjure money out of thin air.

  And the best part of all—it didn’t ask for blowjobs in return. Not like all my other boyfriends. Getting what I wanted before always meant putting out.

  Except I’d never go any further than giving head. It’s ridiculous how every single guy expects me to just spread my legs in the air for every little favor. And usually it’s more than that. Like the last guy I dated who wanted me to let him put it up my ass just for getting me a birthday present. Which was a bottle of lube.

  Needless to say, that relationship didn’t last. I’m only nineteen, but I’ve got standards to maintain.

  So technically that means I’m still a virgin. But if dildos counted then I’d be a dirty silicone-loving slut.

  After all the small items—new clothes, purses, shampoo, lipstick, tampons—I guess I kind of went overboard. Suddenly, when money wasn’t an object, I found myself wanting to sample every kind of naughty toy I could get my hands on.

  I started out with the basics—an assortment of dildos and vibrators—then I went on to explore my kinkier side and shopped for stuff to stick up my ass. I bought everything—anal beads, butt plugs—you name it. With a magic wand in my pussy, a plug deeply embedded in my tiny asshole—I didn’t know it was possible to cum so hard.

  That is, until I started masturbating while thinking about Mr. Peterson.

  And so what if I’m saving myself for an older man? All the other guys I’ve been with have treated me like shit anyway. But Mr. Peterson is different.

  Ever since I moved in next door, we’ve had a unique kind of relationship. There was sexual tension in the air even the first time we met. I could read it all over his face. He’s dying to know what it’s like to get inside this tight little pussy.

  Now I derive a certain kind of satisfaction watching him blush. It must drive him crazy seeing me flaunt this sexy ass around him all the time—he probably deserves a piece of it.

  Plus he’s really good looking for his age, and I’ve always been more attracted to older men. He is tall with broad shoulders, and his handsome face has managed to maintain many of its youthful features. He likes to wear plain tight fitting shirts that really showcase his commitment to staying fit.

  You’d never know he was in his mid-forties just by looking at him. I’ve often thought about what it’d be like to be cradled in those arms at night, sleeping soundly in the comfort and safety of those rippling biceps. And of course, the security that comes with being filthy fucking rich.

  So in that respect, Mr. Peterson is wealthy on all accounts. Which is why I didn’t feel that guilty when I slipped his Platinum Credit Card into the back pocket of my skinny jeans one night when he invited me inside. He had at least four others, so I wondered if he’d even notice.

  And so far, he still hasn’t.

  But things got a bit out of control when I graduated to the hardcore stuff. I racked up thousands of dollars in a mega shopping spree for fuck toys, each one even better than the last. The orgasms were so intense that before long I was squirting like a porn star.

  I never even knew I could do that. The hard part was always keeping quiet so Mom wouldn’t hear.

  And with every new toy, I imagined that it was Mr. Peterson inside me, fucking my brains out and making me cum like never before. I’d think about getting pinned down by his chest, every bulging muscle carved perfectly from marble, grinding against me and thrusting himself up to my hilt.

  When the orgasm came in an explosion of twitching in my floral sheets, I’d think about all the ways I wanted to return the favor. After all, all this pleasure was made possible by Mr. Peterson’s credit card. It’s only fair that I should offer some compensation.

  Sometimes I’ll stick a giant dildo down my throat just to see how far I can go. Good practice for when I get the chance to deep-throat Mr. Peterson’s enormous cock.

  And it wasn’t long before long started craving the real thing. It’s like an obsession, the carnal thoughts spreading like wildfire in my mind of every naughty thing I want Mr. Peterson to do to me.

  I want to see the look on his face when I choke down his cock and milk the cum from his balls. I want to gargle his hot load in my mouth and savor the taste of him before swallowing it all in one giant gulp.

  Then I’ll lick my lips and beg for more.

  But I get the feeling Mr. Peterson is too shy to ever make a move. Besides that, he probably thinks that I’m way too young for him.

  That’s why I’m going to be the one to initiate—by coming clean.

  I’m going over to his house first thing in the morning to confess. I’ll tell him all about stealing the credit card and the insane amount of debt.

  Then I’ll burst into apologetic tears and ask him to hold me. I’ll sob into his chest while he comforts me, tells me it’s all going to be okay.

  And then I’ll offer my body to him. I’ll tell him to take me any way he pleases, in any hole he chooses. I’ll grant him my flesh in return for the mess I’ve put him in.

  He’s going to understand. Everything is going to be totally fine in the end.

  I hope.

  ******

  I knock on the double doors of his home while I smile at the peephole. He might be loaded with cash, but Mr. Peterson hasn’t bothered to fix the doorbell.

  I’m wearing a super short black ruffle skirt and fuck-me pumps to match. I’ve got a pretty blouse over my push up bra that makes my tits look huge.

  I bite down on my bottom lip to keep it from trembling. I try my best not to calm my nerves, to stop myself from getting too worked up. I don’t really have any idea how he’s going to react when I tell him how much of his money I’ve stolen.

  But I’m committed now. It’s too late to change my mind.

  “Maddie?”

  I’m patting my skirt down in the back, admiring my ass when Mr. Peterson opens the door.

  “Good morning, Mr. Peterson!” I give a shy little wave, elbow tucked at my side, heels clicking together. His eyes give me a quick up and down, pausing on my breasts longer than he probably meant to.

  The sun peeking over the suburban homes behind me illuminates my slim physique, radiating on my sleek blond curls. I beam at him, twisting at my waist with hands folded behind my back.

  Is he blushing?

  The redness in his cheeks makes him suddenly self-conscious. He glances down at his Rolex saying, “Wow, you’re up early! What’s up?”

  I’m not sure how to say it, so I just ask, “Do you think I could come inside for a bit? I really need to talk to you.”

  “About wha—I mean, sure,” he says, then he glances behind himself to look into the dimly lit hallway. He steps out from behind the door and I can’t help ogling at his shirtless body. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

  I pinch the corner of my bottom lip, eyes fixated for a moment on his crotch. The giant bulge in his pants sends a wave of heat from my chest down to my slickening pussy. My pink manicured nails dance at the edge of my lips, giddy with the excitement gathering between my legs.

  “Just let me grab a shirt. Come on in…”

  “Oh, I don’t mind. really.” I smile wide, allowing my eyes to take in as
much as they want before returning to his flushed cheeks. “I’d rather you be comfortable.”

  He shoots a quizzical look, curious about what exactly I’ve come to talk about. Then he shrugs and opens the door wider to invite me in. “Well, if you don’t mind…”

  There’s a momentary pause. Our eyes meet, staring blankly between slow blinks. Then we burst into laughter at the same time and the brief awkwardness is dead.

  My heels click on the immaculate tile floor leading to the living room. Mr. Peterson has an adorable maid that keeps the place totally spotless.

  I told her once how I feel about Mr. Peterson. I asked her to keep it a secret, but I don’t think she really understood me anyway.