by Miley Milque
“There’s something else I need to confess to you,” He’s moved to the other breast now. The sounds of passionate sucking fill the silence of my pause. I’m not sure how he’s going to react when I tell him.
“I slashed your tires.” He stops sucking. “In case you were unwilling to cooperate.”
“What the fuck?” He’s squeezing my arms. His eyes are brimming with rage. “Who the fuck do you think you are? I had a meeting with an important client this morning!” He’s shaking me, saying, “You’re fucking with my life!”
“So give me what I want,” I say. His face is blood red. Fire in his eyes. He grabs my ass from behind, spins me around, forces me to bend over the bed with my stomach flat.
“Is this what you want?” He says. I cry out when an open palm lands square against my ass. The smacking sound of skin against skin reverberates in my small bedroom. “You want to be treated like a filthy whore?” His hand comes down again, twice as hard this time. “A dirty little slut?”
The next blow lands the hardest.
“Because that’s what you are.” I moan out in an ecstatic wail. My hair clings to the sweat and heat of my back.
In truth, this is exactly what I want.
“Y—yes!”
SMACK!
“Yes, what?”
SMACK!
“Yes I—I like it!”
SMACK!
The glass of my sliding closet door vibrates with the ferocity of his blows.
Again and again, he pummels my ass until it’s purple and raw. My pussy quivers, dripping in the anticipation of another hard spank.
But he stays his hand.
“No. I want to hear you say it,”
My breaths are heavy, the air beaten out of me. “Say what, Mr. Wilson?”
Then I feel it. The girth of his cock slipping between the sweat of my tender ass cheeks and the wetness of my eager pussy.
“Admit it. You’re just a dirty slut who fucks with people’s lives, and likes to get fucked in the ass!” My eyes go wide.
“In the ass?”
“Say it!” His palm hits me like rough leather.
“Ungh!” My whole body jolts like he just put a Taser to my ass. I moan out, squeezing a nearby pillow so hard my fingernails tear into the case.
“Say it!” Another blow lands with the same force on the other cheek. An imprint of a face is left on the blue cotton sheets where I bury my head and cry. The searing pain on my ass was a new kind of pleasure.
“Okay… okay! I’m a dirty slut, and I fuck with people’s lives!”
“And?” The head of his dick circles my wet puckered asshole. My ass cheeks clench; my whole body goes tense. I’m terrified at the thought of what might come next.
“And… I like to take it up the ass, okay?” My hands grip the sheets tight; I bite down hard on a pillow. Is he really going to…
My back arches and my toes curl when I feel my Mr. Wilson penetrating my tight asshole. He grabs hold of my waist, holding me in place as I squirm. My ass cheeks clench shut around his dick.
“No. You’re going to take it,” he says, pulling my head back by the hair, “all the way.”
The pain is intense—more than I could have imagined. And yet, something compels me to let him in deeper.
His girth works its way into my ass, lubricated by his precum and my own juices. I have to scream. I can’t hold back.
Every nerve ending inside burns with a new kind of pain and an odd kind of pleasure. Mr. Wilson is balls deep in my ass now.
My mind goes numb. My eyes flutter with the tingling pleasure. Am I… enjoying this?
The pain is so subtle now. My body writhes in the sheets, losing control to the strange electricity invading my senses.
He thrusts himself into me, balls slamming hard against my clit. The muscles of my anus contract, wringing the length of his stiff dick.
He huffs and groans, punishing my ass with heavy-handed swipes. Hot beads of sweat pour from his forehead and pool at the small of my back. He’s drilling into me so deep. I might pass out.
My legs cramp and my body twinges. Something feels different. A new sensation is building deep inside, emanating from my core like liquid fire.
My breaths quicken. My toes flex and spasm. I spread my legs to assist his entry.
But then his thrusts slow to a halt. No… it all feels too good. Don’t stop now!
He yanks hard on my hair again with his cock embedded deep in my ass.
“You don’t get to cum yet.”
His cock begins to pull out slowly. My tight walls hug his cock as it emerges, clinging in desperation, not wanting him to escape.
My whole body shudders when he’s all the way out. dammit! I was so close!
“You’re going to be an obedient little slut.” His voice is cold and callous. I’ve never seen this side of Mr. Wilson. “Spread your legs.”
I hesitate for a moment, wondering what he’s planning. With a slow apprehension, my legs begin to part, revealing the wet mess between them.
“Wider!” A hard spank on the thigh and I’m nearly doing the splits. Mr. Wilson grabs behind the knees and holds them there.
“It’s about time I give you what you’ve been asking for.” His dick slides along my wet crack, slips between my folds and circles my clit. My pussy quivers, trembling in a kind of uneasy anticipation. The head of his dick traces around my labia.
“Mr.—Mr. Wilson?”
He inserts himself past my folds, the head of his dick pressing into my tight entrance. I squint hard in preparation for what is coming. My teeth cover my bottom lip to stifle the moans I know I won’t be able to control.
And then Mr. Wilson is inside me. His massive size parts my virgin walls, stretching them thin. My hips buck against him; my ass slams hard against his stone wall abdomen.
“Fuck! You’re so fucking—tight!”
His hips thrust forward with a resounding groan and my pussy gives way to his thick penetration. Mr. Wilson has me impaled on his cock, holding me against him with vice grips on my ass. I can’t hold it in.
My deep moans of ecstasy only serve to further invigorate him. His enormous girth might split me in half.
“Fuck me Mr. Wilson! Fuck me harder!” The words come out on their own.
Our bodies slick together in a sweaty mess of bodily fluids. My limbs spasm and contort with every plunge into my tight pussy.
I can’t help screaming out when his cock bottoms out inside me, ramming against my cervix. The pain is overwhelming. And yet a subtle, pleasurable tension is rising in my core.
My legs flail in the air. Desperate moans escape my lips with every hump and fuck from behind.
My ass lifts in the air with each deep penetration, grinding on his dick like an expert whore. It all feels so natural, being such a dirty slut.
My back arches in a rough jolt; my pussy quivers with electric stimulation. My walls contract around Mr. Wilson’s cock as my entire body shudders to the euphoric energy rushing to my extremities.
The orgasm sends me into a fit of convulsions. Mr. Wilson moans to the tight contractions of my pussy, coaxing him to cum inside me.
“Agh! Fuck!” His dick is twitching inside. Is he about to cum?
Then I feel it—his warm load filling my uterus. Mr. Wilson grunts like a wild beast, drilling into me like a jackhammer.
He holds me against him by the ass while his hot, thick spunk gushes into me. His cock pulses again and again in an unending stream. My insides feel like they’re going to overflow.
“Yes… Yes!”
My heart flutters as orgasmic tremors take control. My mind is lost in a tranquil cloud of euphoria. My pussy tightens and relaxes to the rhythm of Mr. Wilson ejaculating inside me until he collapses his full weight on top of me, slipping in the sweat of my back, still cumming. I can feel the rapid breaths of his heavy chest beating against me.
We moan together, lying in a mess of our fluids. Thick white cum coats every square inc
h of my walls, the excess of his hot load spilling out and rolling off his balls.
My tongue licks around grinning lips. The sweet taste of victory.
I got what I needed from Mr. Wilson. And yet, something inside wants more. More punishment.
“Mr. Wilson?”
He grunts in response, face down between my shoulder blades.
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THE DIRTY DEVIL
Ready and Waiting
“Good night, Mr. Smith!” I say as my neighbor gently closes the door of my bedroom, leaving it cracked to let in a sliver of light.
I hear his footsteps against the polished hard wood floors of his three-story house as he walks down the hallway leading to the master bedroom.
Following that is the jiggle of a brass handle, and the slow creak of his bedroom door. I had listened for those familiar sounds whenever I would spend the night at my neighbors’ house for at least a decade— about as long as Mr. and Mrs. Smith had gone without fucking.
As usual, they were fighting again. Mrs. Smith was still downstairs reading on the couch while Mr. Smith had gone to sleep alone.
They had been trying for years now to have a child together while it was still possible, but now their optimism was beginning to wane.
But I knew what was really going on. Mr. Smith was simply not attracted to his wife anymore, and nowadays he couldn’t even get it up while she was in the same room.
Now Mr. Smith would have to get on the Internet and watch teenage girls doing dirty things to each other just to get himself hard before sex. Then he would lazily hump on top of her, still half dressed with the lights off. And she would be equally unenthusiastic.
Ever since I turned nineteen, I’ve wanted so badly to help Mr. Smith get aroused enough to fuck his wife.
Whenever I heard him alone at his desk, stroking his cock to pornography before their lifeless ritual to conceive, I thought about going in there to help him. I often imagined myself going into his office with nothing on and sneaking up behind him.
Then I would spin his swivel chair around and sit on his lap with my bare ass while he was beating off. He would be surprised at first, but once I had him press his hands against my supple tits he would get the idea pretty quick.
Then I would slide his cock between my slick folds while he lifted me up and down by my ass cheeks. My body would writhe against his chest as I held him in place with crossed arms around his neck.
The background noise of lesbian teens eating each other out and fucking themselves with dildos on the computer screen behind us would become secondary to him.
After all, I would even let him lick my tight, shaved pussy if he wanted. Once he was good and hard, I would have to make sure his erection could last for the duration of lame sex with my Mrs. Smith.
I would get down on my knees and tease the head of his cock with my lips, going up and down the shaft, occasionally licking playfully at his balls.
Then I would use the flat of my tongue to lick slowly from the base and all the way up. I would protect him from my teeth with my lips and suck the head of his cock like I had seen in Mr. Smith’s porn videos on the Internet.
I would really have to make sure that Mr. Smith was thoroughly aroused if he was going to be engaging in that boring thing they entertained in calling sex.
So I would get him down in my throat as deep as I could, probably gagging along the way. I would suck him off until he was just about ready to cum.
And then he would be ready for his wife.
The thought of doing all those naughty things to Mr. Smith has got me wet all over the sheets. With two fingers up my pussy,
I wonder if he would ever ask if he could fuck me. And to be honest, I was feeling just dirty enough that I might say yes.
******
The very next night Mr. Smith had put me to bed as usual, only I could tell he was looking particularly sad—moreso than usual. Him and his wife had just finished yelling at each other downstairs.
Their inability to conceive of a new child was taking a heavy toll on their marriage.
Before she met her husband, Mrs. Smith used to be a regular little slut. She had fucked nearly every guy of her graduating class before settling on Mr. Smith.
In fact, she even popped one out in her senior year of high school and had to put it up for adoption.
Once she found out that his parents were loaded, she got Mr. Smith to fall in love with her—which was easy since he was a virgin at the time and she was his first.
Then they married just a couple months after finishing high school and Mr. Smith was locked in. Of course, she only kept up with the facade of loving Mr. Smith for a few years or so, and their sex has been stale ever since.
Really, it was her fault for not putting forth more effort to be attractive. After almost thirty years of marriage, she had really let herself go.
Her hair was going grey and she had put on a lot of weight. She never exercised or made any attempt at looking pretty for Mr. Smith. So I couldn’t blame him for finding it so difficult to climax with her.
But tonight I am going to help him with that. Mr. Smith had done so much for me over the years. Mrs. Smith had married him for his wealth, and he took care of her and brought her out of poverty while she was an aspiring young actress. She was beautiful then.
They were both in their early adulthood, like me, and had fallen madly in love. But somewhere along the way the passion between them fizzled out.
Her career never panned out, and she has been mooching off him ever since. Honestly, she never makes any real contribution to their relationship anymore.
But I was going to change all that and start making my own contributions. I am making it my sole job to rekindle the fire in the bedroom that was once there.
Particularly, by getting Mr. Smith horny enough to fuck her by any means necessary.
It’s only fair that my Mr. Smith should get what he deserves. He works hard, and if my tight young pussy can make him happier, I’m going to let him have it.
Mrs. Smith is downstairs reading on the couch again, and I know that she won’t be joining her husband in bed tonight.
Whenever they fight, she ends up falling asleep with a romance novel in her lap. If only she could see that Mr. SMith is way better than any of those men in her books, she might actually try to bring some excitement back to their sex lives.
But that isn’t going to happen, and so I will have to take it upon myself to give her husband what he needs.
I get myself out of bed and throw on my white bathrobe with nothing underneath. I creep down the long hall, being careful to avoid the parts of the old floor that tend to squeak and groan when stepped on.
When I get to the door of the master bedroom, I listen carefully for the distinctive sound of pages being turned and I know that Mrs. Smith is lost in another one of her paperback sex stories.
I push lightly on the door that’s not fully closed and enter into the darkness.
Mr. Smith is already asleep, snoring softly with one arm crossed over his eyes. I untie the loose knot of my robe and let it drop from my bare shoulders onto the black carpet.
There is a draft coming in from behind the flowing satin curtains of the bedroom window, and it’s making my nipples hard and perky.
My skin feels tight, and I shiver as goosebumps spread from my arms down to my butt.
I get myself over to the edge of the king size bed frame and lift one corner of the tucked in covers; the warmth coming from underneath is inviting.
I crawl head first under the sheets until I’m on all fours at his feet. The bottoms of them are heavily callused from years of construction work, and I know that Mrs. Smith hasn’t given them a massage in years.
I wrap my cold hands gingerly around his feet and begin to work at the soles. His body jolts.
“Whoa, your hands are cold!” He yelps. Still, they are warming up quickly from the friction as I in
crease the pressure. Mr. Smith exhales long and sighs.
“Wow honey, that feels good,” he says, half awake. I begin working my way to the back of his heels and up the sides of his thick calves.
Construction may have done a number on his feet, but the rest of him was toned because of it. I get a hand on either side of one leg and press deep into the muscle with my fingertips.