by J. D. Smith
His thighs met my ass, and I could feel his whole cock inside of me. It was indescribable, being filled so completely by this man of God. He pulled back and I closed my eyes. Colors seemed to explode in the darkness as he fucked me with long, slow strokes. He paused at the apex, the large head of his dick teasing my tight hole before he plunged deeper. I groaned and whimpered each time, my brow breaking out in sweat.
He leaned forward, so that I could smell the clean, honest scent of a real man. It was hard to place, no cologne, no perfumed aftershave, just clean and musky. He quickened his pace, rocking the desk back and forth as he used me. My moans grew louder, too loud to be contained by the small room. He let off of my back and grabbed me by the hair, pulling me up to him as he continued to fuck me.
“Do you like that, Maggie?” he whispered in my ear. “Do you like being used like a whore?”
I was shocked, but it only added to my lust. “Yes,” I said, unable to deny what I was feeling. “I like it.”
He forced my head back down and put his hands on my hips. His thick fingers bit into my flesh as he held me in place. His powerful haunches worked even harder, fucking my virgin cunt with a ferocity that surprised me. The desk screeched across the wood floor and I feared it would collapse. It felt fantastic. Each powerful thrust drove me deeper into the pit of my desire, and closer to climax. The slapping sound of flesh on flesh mingled with my cries of pleasure as he fucked me into oblivion.
It built quickly, driven by the combination of his words and the intense, hard fucking he delivered. I couldn't hold on any longer and went over the edge.
“Ahhh! I'm coming,” I screamed. It was harder than before, and my vision washed out for a split second as I lost control of my body. I could feel my little cunt squeeze his thick rod, and it only seemed to prolong my pleasure. He held it inside of me, glorying in the quivering mess he'd created of me.
It ended, and I was spent. Sweat seemed to ooze out of every pore. He pulled his cock out of me and I sighed, sorry to see the source of my lust go. I needn't have worried, though. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me up, and my desire rose again with the rough treatment. He spun me around and picked me up. I was like a doll in his hands, ready to be twisted and turned in any way he saw fit. He dropped me, sitting, on the desk and pulled me forward, toward his cock.
“I want to see your face when I put my seed inside of you,” he said.
My mouth dropped open. I couldn't believe what I just heard. “Pastor, no,” I said. What if I got pregnant? What about Danny? “You might get me pregnant.”
“You'll be married in a week,” he said, pushing me down. “Now hush, girl.”
I pushed myself up, but found his hand at my throat, forcing me back down. It should have scared the shit out of me, and it did, but it also made me hotter. I wanted more, and, God help me, I wanted his seed. He slid into me again.
“Ohhh!” I moaned, lost in a sea of pleasure once more.
There was no slow beginning, no breaking in, this time. He plunged forward, burying his cock as deep into my pussy as it would go. I whimpered, tired but hurtling toward yet another orgasm. It was nearly too much for me. His cock rammed in and out of my cunt, the wetness spreading to the inside of my thighs as he drew me deeper into the fires of damnation. His hand tightened around my throat, just barely cutting off my air.
It was a revelation, the combination of pounding sex and asphyxiation turned out to be a powerful aphrodisiac for me. He fucked me harder still, the desk butting up against his book shelf as the force of our coupling strained it to its limits. I heard him grunt, and he let up just enough for me to breath. My moans filled the room, and his cock throbbed against the walls of my tight, little cunt. He slammed into me, deeper than ever before, and his cock erupted. I came with even more force than before.
I could only mewl and whimper, my legs shaking and quivering as his hot seed spurt inside of me, coating my womb. I lost myself in the constant waves of pleasure, riding them for a long moment until my convulsions subsided and my body flopped out, limp and ragged, on the desk.
“There,” Pastor Graham said. “Your demons are exorcised.” He pulled out of me and collected his pants, underwear, and shoes. “I think Danny will be well pleased, so long as you remember what I've shown you.”
I pushed myself off of the desk, still too shell-shocked to register exactly what had happened. “Thank you, Pastor,” I said. I realized that I no longer felt nervous, nor did I feel unclean. It had worked. I quickly dressed, hunting down the various articles of clothing that had been strewn throughout the room during our encounter.
“If you require more counseling,” he said, a wry grin on his face. “You know where to find me.”
“I do,” I said, pulling my skirt up to my waist. I buttoned up my blouse and tucked it in. “But won't Danny know?”
“No,” Pastor Graham said. “He's not any more experienced than you are. Well, were, rather.”
“Good.”
“You'll make him a good wife, Maggie. And, I think, you'll also be happy.”
“I think so, too.”
And I left. It was near noon when I opened the door to the church. Amazing how time can fly away from you. The sun blazed in the sky, and the tar of the church parking lot shimmered in the heat. I took a deep breath and stepped off, whole and untroubled for the first time I could remember. Pastor Graham had shown me the way, and things were looking much, much brighter.
Check out more reluctant breeding action in:
Reluctantly Deflowered by My Billionaire Boss
“Now it needs to be professionally cleaned, but the stain won't set,” he said.
“Good,” I said. “What do I wear in the meantime?”
“I'm quite fond of what you're wearing now.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Mr. Diamani,” I said.
“Marc.”
“Marc, I'm not sure, I mean, I'm,” I said. I couldn't articulate what I was feeling. I so wanted this man, but I felt inadequate. What if I disappointed him? I couldn't live with that.
He moved closer and I could smell a faint musk. His cologne. His hand brushed my bare flank and I gasped. It was like an electric shock. I was frightened, too frightened to continue.
“No, please,” I said. My loins fought a fierce battle with my reason and my reason lost. My protests lacked bite.
He grabbed my hair, rough, but not too rough, and pulled me toward him. Our mouths met, and, while I resisted at first, I parted my lips and allowed him inside. It was fantastic. I'd kissed men before, but it was never this real, this hot. One of his hands slid down my thigh and I felt myself growing wet. What was I thinking? I couldn't do this.
I pushed him away. “Marc, I can't,” I said. “I don't know,”
His hand moved inward, and I tried to back away. He grabbed my upper arm and held me in place as he brushed my slick mound through my lacy panties. I felt like I was floating. His touch ignited something inside of me, but I wasn't a slut. I couldn't do this.
“Please,” I said. He paid me no mind and part of me was glad that he didn't.
He snuck past my waistband, his bare fingers parting the folds of my virgin pussy. I whimpered, caught between my lust and my fear. I didn't know what I was doing, but dear God did I want to. He rubbed my clit and white spots exploded behind my eyes. I squirmed and twisted, half to get away, and half because I couldn't help myself.
Breeding the Teenage Virgin Babysitter
"Mr. March, I really think I should go," she said.
"No, you shouldn't," Mr. March's fingers dug into the fleshy part of her shoulders. "I have a much better proposition for you."
"Mr. March, you're hurting me." Bailey struggled, but he was far too strong for her to break free.
"Just hear me out," Mr. March said. "I've seen how good you are with Bobby. Better than his mother, really. It's been a long time since I've been with a woman. Work, Bobby, time always gets away from me. I need more."
"W-what
are you talking about?" Bailey had a hard time believing that this was really happening. Mr. March was hot, no doubt, but she wasn't sure this was how she wanted to lose her virginity. Her stomach was twisted in knots, but she felt a stirring deep inside. The rough handling was doing something for her, and she didn't exactly hate it.
"I want to fuck you, Bailey," Mr. March threw her down on the couch. "And then I'm going to come inside of that sweet, virgin pussy."
"No," Bailey said, trying to scramble up the back of the couch. Her hands kept sliding down the fabric. Mr. March advanced on her, deftly undoing his tie and tossing it to the side.
"Oh, yes," he said. His eyes were like a wolf's, fixed on its prey. He grabbed her thighs, digging in so hard that Bailey whimpered in pain, and arousal. Her fantasies had never felt this alive, this real, and, although she was frightened out of her mind, she craved more of his attention.
Or, get all three babysitter breeding stories in one convienent bundle:
Breeding the Teenage Virgin Babysitter Bundle
Breeding the Teenage Virgin Cheerleader
“I should,” he said, circling the desk and walking behind Cindy. The lock on the door clicked and Cindy wondered what the coach was planning. “But I'm not going to. No, Cindy, I've got a better idea for settling you down.”
He placed his hands on Cindy's shoulders and she shivered. His fingers were still cold from the chill night air. Something else awakened in her, as well. She'd always thought the coach was a good looking guy. He stayed in shape when other men his age let themselves go to seed. There was something about the authority in his voice, and the hard look he sometimes got when a football player defied him that turned her on. Those feelings jumbled with fear and she squirmed in her chair, looking for an exit.
Cindy had played out a similar fantasy, many, many times while she sat in class and watched Coach Resnick, who also taught Trig, at the chalkboard. The unmistakeable lust in his voice gave her pause, though.
“C-coach? What are you doing?” she said, fighting to keep her voice calm.
“What do you think I'm doing, Cindy?” he said, picking her up from the chair easily. He spun her around and sat her down on the desk. “You think I haven't noticed the looks you give me in class, the notes you and your little buddy Ashley pass back and forth while I'm trying to teach?”
“S-So? You can't do this,” she said. But Cindy wasn't so sure that she didn't want him to. She'd fooled around with Tommy plenty of times, but he'd always been awkward, hesitant and clumsy. She never let him go all the way, because, frankly, he never really turned her on. This, though, this was turning her on big time.
“You never let Tommy fuck you, did you?” Coach said as he pushed her down on the desk. His hand found its way to her thigh and he hiked up her muddy skirt. “I'm exploring virgin territory.”
“Coach, no,” Cindy said. She tried to free herself, but his hand pressed firmly against her sternum, holding her to the desk. The harder she struggled, the hornier she got. Still, Cindy felt obligated to put up a good fight.
Breeding Another Teenage Virgin Cheerleader
She had expected a bunch of reports on her various indiscretions this year, and she found them. She also found a number of pictures. Cheerleading practice pictures, mostly, but there were a few that must have been taken in the halls and at lunch. What the fuck?
She jumped as the door slammed closed.
“See,” Principal Taylor said. “This is why you're always in trouble.” He locked the door and advanced, pulling off his tie and tossing it on the floor. “Nosy, impertinent, and now you're snooping through my files. I should give you weekend detention for the rest of the year.”
“Awww,” Allie said, acutely aware that she was in a precarious position. “C'mon Principal Taylor,” she said, stalling. Her worse nature got the better of her however. “I'm sure the school board would love to know how you're stalking your students.”
“That's not true,” he said. His face was flush with anger.
“Yeah,” she said, holding up a few of the pictures from her file. “Then what the fuck is this?”
There was no warning, Principal Taylor moved fast. He circled the desk and grabbed Allie up before she could make a sound. The file, pictures and all, scattered to the four winds. She was genuinely scared now, but there was something else under the surface. She was incredibly turned on. Principal Taylor was pretty hot, but, more importantly, he was a man who seemed to want her very, very badly. It was a new experience for Allie.
“Principal Taylor, what are you doing?” she cried.
“Something that should have been done a long time ago,” he said as he bent her over the desk and flipped her soggy skirt up, exposing her ass.
She shrieked when his hand hit her ass, the slapping sound seemed to fill the office. Allie was in shock, it was painful, it was humiliating, but, my God, was it hot. His hand came down again, giving her another dose of sharp, but oddly delicious pain. Her panties grew wetter with every stroke of his hand.
Reluctantly Deflowered by My Doctor
I sneered at his back as he made a few more notes on the clip board. He turned and caught me, and the look in his eye held me in place. It was a hungry look. He took two steps toward me and I cringed. He placed a strong hand on my shoulder and I jumped and tried to run, but he held me in place. I was scared out of my wits, but something deep inside of me was clawing at my guts, howling to get out.
“A simple one,” he said. “No, I know just what you need.” He forced me back onto the table, his hand pressing between my breasts.
“What do you think you're doing?” I screamed. I beat at his arm, fruitlessly trying to dislodge it. I clawed at it, but he would not move. His free hand lifted the gown, ignoring my kicking feet. He clucked when he saw that I wasn't entirely naked.
“Still wearing your panties?” he said.
“Stop. Please, stop,” I said. I stopped beating at his arm, resigned to being under his control. I could feel the primal part of me rising and the heat in my loins was unbearable. I wasn't sure that I wanted him to stop.
Rough Breeding by My Professor
“You have two choices, Mrs. Andrews,” he said. I was aware of his presence behind me, looming like some dark God that held my fate in his hands.
“Cami,” I said. The Mrs. Andrews thing was starting to grate. I held back the sobs with heroic effort. “What are my choices?”
“Take the F, walk out of here, and forget about medical school. Or,” he said. I recoiled as he put his hands on my shoulders. What did he think he was doing? “Take part in a little … experiment for me.”
“What kind of experiment?”
“Oh, one that will take about nine months or so.”
“Nine months? I'd have to wait a year to go to med school.”
“Exactly, but I'll guarantee you an A in this class as well as a recommendation.”
“But what could take that long,” I said. Then it occurred to me. “Oh, no, nonononono.”
“Oh, I think you should reconsider,” his said. His voice had softened, just a little, and it was doing weird things to me. Still, I wasn't a whore. I wasn't even a slut. How could he think I'd agree to this?
His hand slipped under my blouse and brushed a bare breast. I struggled to get up, but he was too strong and he held me in place as his fingers brushed my hardening nipple. I was turned on in spite of myself, horrified at the prospect.
“I'm going to use you like a five dollar hooker,” he whispered in my ear. I was crying, and his words should have disgusted me, but I could feel my pussy moisten at the prospect. “Then I'm going to impregnate you. Evolutionary biology in action, that's your project.”
“Oh, God,” I said, unable to manage even a cursory defense as he pulled my blouse up over my head and dropped it to the ground.
“No bra,” he said. He squeezed my tiny tits, kneading and molesting them as my traitor body got more and more aroused. I moaned. “I wonder what else you de
cided not to put on today,” he said. His lips found my neck and I melted inside. Here was this handsome, brilliant, powerful man bent on ravaging me.
Reluctantly Deflowered by My Doctor 2
“Move on.” It was a simple statement, but the way he said it, with such force and conviction, caused my heart to flutter.
“I-it's hard,” I said. “I even saved myself for him.” I don't know what prompted me to say that, but there it was.
“Listen to yourself,” he said, a sudden bite in his voice. His hand tightened down on my wrist. “Stop whining. Saving yourself? I already know what your problem is, little girl.”
I tried to pull my hand away, but he wasn't letting go. “What's that?” I said, the pain fleeing from my mind in the face of fear and anger.
“I'll show you.” He reached down and unzipped his fly.
I was shocked. “Doctor Thorne, what do you think you're doing?” I asked, still trying to scramble away from him. His hand was firmly attached to my forearm, though, and all I succeeded in doing was tearing the paper cover from the table.
“Giving you what you need,” he said. He fished out his cock. It was semi-hard and seemed to be growing before my eyes. I stared at it, repulsed and turned on at the same time. I'd felt Roger's before, through his pants, but it wasn't anything like Doctor Thorne's dick.
“No,” I said, but the tide was turning inside of my mind. I wanted to fuck. I wanted to suck. Just like Kimmie did to that bastard.
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