Mr. Always & Forever

by Ashlee Price

  “Get on her face. It will muffle her screams. She is a loud little piece of ass.”

  The blonde haired woman he was talking to giggled and like she had no way to stop herself, she lowered herself onto Gloria’s face. Hovering over, she finally went to her knees, another heart-shaped ass in his sights. Jake groaned as he pushed deep into the older woman’s ass. He pulled out in a rush and fucked her like he knew she wanted it. Hard and fast. He could hear her muffled and gurgled screams from below the woman’s snatch and watched a stream of clear liquid shoot out of her. He yanked out in a rush and moved higher to where the woman was riding Gloria’s face.

  Shianne was speechless as she rode her friend’s face. She could feel a light touch on her back and she fell forward onto her knees, awaiting what she had come over to the other side of the room for. There was no warning, but the sound of Jake spitting in his hand as he coated his cock for penetration. He slammed forward in a new and unused ass. The woman cried out with a high-pitched sound that sent a shiver down his spine. Several woman stopped to see what was happening as the woman went hysterical.

  Jake was not fucking her that hard and was not even halfway inside of her before she came in the mouth below. The dual pleasure was just too much for the sex-deprived woman at her peak. Gloria continued to suck and lick as Jake withdrew. His eyes looked for Alice and found her in a similar position, an older woman on top of he. His eyes grew large and he felt a pang of jealousy. He rose, leaving the two women to sort it out and walked towards the one on top of his woman.

  He recognized the brunette as Mrs. Palmer, one of the women that had welcomed him to the neighborhood with a plateful of homemade cookies. The sight of her on top of Alice was erotic and strange. It seemed that all of the women were begging for sex and he could tell she was already wet from his girlfriend’s tongue.

  He pushed her forward like he had the last. Jake’s hand went between her legs and rubbed her wetness upwards towards her ass. Jake lined himself and then pushed hard on the woman’s tight sphincter. He had to grit his teeth to the tightness. His cock was already feeling sore, but the sight of Alice in her quim was enough to egg him on further. He pounded into Mrs. Palmer’s ass, thinking about her husband. He grinned at the idea of her doing the same thing with her uppity husband, though he doubted it. The older woman moaned and pulled at her flapping titties as he slammed into her until she too could not take any more. Jake pushed her off of Alice and then he grabbed his woman’s thighs, pulling her tiny body closer to his angry-looking meat.

  He groaned in satisfaction at the quim he seemed to have needed that whole day. None of the other women could compare to his fiery red vixen and the sounds she made were unsurpassed. Another woman tried to take over Alice’s mouth, but he sent her over to his buddy in the corner. He watched him for a moment, before his attention was reverted back to her. Her emerald green eyes glistened as she came, an orgasm so intense that it brought her to tears. He felt an instant tenderness wash over him and he too, was lost in the moment.

  Joe was less involved with feelings and more involved with satisfying the ladies. While Joe may not have been all that pretty, no one was looking at his face anyways. His long cock was out and several women were on their knees in front of him. He pushed his thickness down one girl’s throat, while the other one waited with her mouth open like a little bird. Joe was beside himself with all of the pleasure. Joe had trouble getting women to see passed the scar on his face from combat. It ran down the side of his cheek and though it didn’t make him ugly, it had not helped make him any more handsome. It had been rough coming back to his hometown and like Jake there had been an underwhelming return home. He was working at a body shop because he couldn’t find much better locally. But that night, in that moment, Joe felt like a God.

  Another woman added to the three already in front of him, though she did not get on her knees. She walked behind him, her hands on his back and then his chest. He could feel her tiny nails scrape against his skin, his cock jerking in response. The blonde went to her tiptoes to kiss him on the lips, than she kissed more of his wide, expansive chest. He didn’t know why, but he was deriving more pleasure from her light touches, than the other mouth’s engulfing his cock. He pulled back and took the woman away from the pack.

  He walked with her to his friend’s back bedroom. It was small and cramped, but it had the bed that Joe was looking for. He didn’t notice the line with several women in it that had started at the bedroom door. Joe made it clear that he wanted just one at a time and it seemed the cougars were going to wait for him. Joe’s ego boosted higher as he lay on the bed, looking down the small trailer hallway.

  The blonde that he had taken into the room undressed. She had on a small pink negligee and she pulled it off before she climbed in the bed with him. He growled at her seductive crawl and while she went to his splayed thighs, he turned her body around and settled her cunt over his face. His strong arms held her around the waist, while his own length was nibbled on from above.

  “Ashley hurry up!”

  Joe sent a look to the next woman in line that was rushing them. He ignored her after a minute and went back to the juicy quim in his face. He heard a keening wail and then his face and mouth were flooded with clear cum. He growled and feasted longer, until the small woman named Ashley scrambled to get off of him. She had long since abandoned his cock to moan and beg.

  Joe finally released her, but she was not quick enough to get off the bed before one thick hand was pulling her wet center towards his length.

  “I can’t Joe, it is just too big. It won’t fit.”

  Her brown eyes had widened and she touched the mean-looking cock in front of her. She sat on his lower thighs, looking down at it in fear. It was way too big for her small body and her thighs squeezed shut with the thought.

  “I’ll be gentle and you can ride it as slow as you want to.”

  Joe would have promised his left nut to try to get inside of her. Her confession of fear turned him on and he liked that the very sight of his dick made her nervous. He heard an impatient sound from the doorway.

  “You, wait your turn. I will get to you next.”

  The brunette in line nodded and he watched her hand go between her legs. His pulled his attention back to Ashley. She looked determined when she started to rose up, positioning him below her. Joe gritted his teeth to not slam forward, but he kept his promise and let her fuck him slow. Ashley came twice before she slid off of him in exhaustion. Joe kissed her back and watched her go. He had not even been able to get halfway into her and when the next in line stepped forward, his eyes narrowed.

  “Bend over the bed, palms down and don’t move.”

  Joe was done being gentle and when the pink slit opened with her position, he slammed in fully. A scream pierced the quiet room and he fucked her as hard as he could. The woman came multiple times before she too was allowed to leave. The line had gotten longer and he urged the next one forward and told her to assume the position.

  ***

  “Thank you all for coming and before you go home to pass out, I would like to make a toast and an announcement. A toast to the birthday girl. Gloria was in between many of your legs tonight, doing what she loves to do. We are starting a business that I think many of you would enjoy as well. We are launching the Cougar Escort Service and as you can see, the work is quite exciting. You women are unique, hot as fuck and horny, as well as knowledgeable about all things nasty. This is what men want and I think that we could all make some money, doing what we love. Fucking.”

  There was a silence for several minutes after the man’s speech. For a minute, he thought he had judged wrong, but once the first woman volunteered, it had a snowball effect. By the time it was all said and done, the foursome was joined by seven others and the Cougar Club was born. And it all started from one big dick and a dream of living the easy life.

  THE END

  Bad Boy’s Choice

  I’ve spent my entire damn life playing t
he role of the good girl. I’ve done what people told me was the right thing, I’ve tried to live well in the hopes of establishing a better future for myself… But in the end, what has it all been good for? Nothing, as far as I’ve been able to tell. I’m miserable and alone at the bar one night, contemplating how dull and dreadful my life is, wishing someone would ask me to go home with him. Much to my surprise, however, the first man to flirt with me through the evening is devilishly handsome – a bad boy, who offers to take me for a ride on his motorcycle. I cast aside my doubts and have the night of my life with the man. He ravishes me and gives my life just the extra dose of naughtiness it’s been needing. However, as the two of us begin to kindle a more lasting relationship together, I begin to have doubts about certain aspects of his lifestyle – and a particularly traumatic event forces me to give him an ultimatum. Either he gives up the lifestyle that attracted me to him in the first place, or he gives up me…

  Chapter 1

  I was so damn tired of trying to live my life like the “good girl” all the time… It was a role I’d been playing for years on end at this point, and I felt so tired of it, so sick and fed up of trying to pretend I was innocent in pure, puritanical, almost in nature. I’d always walked the straight and narrow like I was hobbling along a damn tightrope, and it was driving me crazy – not only because I secretly felt my “pure” habits were largely at odds with human nature, but because I’d been doing what everyone had been telling me all my life was the “right thing,” and it had gotten me virtually nowhere all this time.

  Take school, for instance. Since elementary school, I stressed and scrambled to get assignments done on time, and kicked my own ass if I got anything less than an A plus, certain inwardly that nothing short of that mark was good enough. Meanwhile, my classmates, beyond a certain point, seemed as though they couldn’t give any less of a damn about school. They waited until the last minute on assignments, or copied their answers off of someone else, and they almost never got caught doing it. What was more, at the end of the day, some of the most egregious offenders, the ones who were smart and savvy enough to pull it off well, specifically, saw no detriment to their grades. They scored well on tests, got the highest marks in the class, and generally succeeded without effort, whereas I, true to my “good girl” persona, worked my little tail off trying to score well, and yet ended up inevitably ranking mediocre in my class by comparison. I mean, I was hardly a dunce, but so often it made me so frustrated, and I just kept getting harder and harder on myself as years went by.

  Of course, adults, both teachers and my parents, alike, tried to extoll in me the virtue of hard work. Sure, those other kids might all be having an easier time with it, but I had the moral high ground. I was the “good girl,” I was doing what I was supposed to, and sooner or later things would pay off for me in the end, once you got right down to it.

  So I waited, and hoped, and believed what I was told.

  In the meantime, I realized that the same principles applied to socializing and dating as they did to scoring on quizzes and tests. Surely the “good girl” should have no problem making friends – I was, by definition, the exact sort of person that my classmates should want to be around, the girl that every guy should want to date.

  And I have to grant myself that, in my way, at least, I was attractive. Sometimes, I struggled with self-esteem issues, but if I could make myself look past them it wasn’t hard to see the beauty in myself. I was a curvier girl, always had been, with voluptuous features, dark ebony skin, and in my present state of adulthood, the last specks of optimism in a gaze that had largely become cynical as the years rolled along.

  So, suffice it to say, had it just been appearance alone that warranted attention from the other kids, I think I would have been more than okay. I sometimes had my doubts about my size, and even my skin color, it’s sad to say, but I saw other girls who looked similar to myself, and sometimes even less attractive, who managed to find steady boyfriends and groups of friends. Surely, I should have no trouble doing the same in that case…

  But, again, things didn’t exactly pan out how I’d always been told they should. I began to notice that my “good tendencies” mostly bored people, more than anything else. Any friendships I developed seemed to be brief and fleeting, and no one ever asked me out at any point prior to senior year. I did, finally, get asked to the prom then, buy a couple of guys actually, but it had taken me years to get my classmates familiar enough with me to take me seriously, and I knew that any relationships I might have harbored at that point would be over once college came.

  And it all came back around, once more, to my personality. People just really didn’t want to hang around with the Plain Jane who never took risks, never got into trouble or did anything that struck them as even remotely exciting. I kept my nose clean, and to the people around me that made me dull and boring, far too mundane to interest them.

  The ones who made friends were the ones who misbehaved, who did things they weren’t supposed to. And plus, if they got in trouble for those things, it was pretty much even better. A cherry on top, so to speak, and something to brag about.

  It was just human nature, I started to realize, to gravitate toward that sort of rebellious behavior. But I’d simply gone too far at this point. I was too good to even know how to be bad, and I still clung to the belief that if I stayed the course long enough, karma or whatever force you want to call it might come back around and bless me for my years of loyalty, and make all that loneliness and those feelings of inferiority worthwhile.

  College came around. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with it, but everyone said that was what I was supposed to do, so I did it. Despite my good grades, I found myself receiving very little in scholarship money, and had to take out a bunch of money in loans that would take years to pay back (and that I couldn’t hope to afford anytime soon…) I drifted around for a year as an undeclared major, studied hard, and at last settled on a major that I only half cared about, studying my ass off in the hopes of getting a decent job after school, because it was the “good” thing to do.

  Sure enough, I stayed the path, and eventually I graduated. My parents were so proud of me, their good daughter, following their instructions, and really making something of herself, setting up her bright future even as she struggled to embrace the present in any way whatsoever.

  As nice as that little piece of paper was, though, as good as it made me feel as it hung on my bedroom wall, it proved a bit less than helpful when it came to actually doing me any practical good. The job market, at that particular point in time, proved to be far too competitive for a good girl like myself – and in fact, strangely, it turned out to be far more advantageous for and favorable toward those who cheated and finagled their way through life – leaving me almost completely out of the running.

  And so now, these days I found myself with a college degree, having done the right thing all my life, and working ad goddamn retail job as a means of paying back the exorbitant interest rates on my student loans, the task seeming like one that spanned out ahead of me indefinitely. Every day, I came face to face with angry, irate customers, I did my job so well that I got routinely assigned to other people’s duties for no extra pay, and I worked forty plus hours on minimum wage, and still just barely made ends meet.

  Was it any wonder that, on the evening in question, I felt a pressing an unavoidable craving for a drink or two or ten?

  No, not ten… I was good… A good girl didn’t get drunk off her ass on a weekday, as tempting as it seemed just then.

  Tipsiness would have to settle for the time being, and maybe the possibility of going home with some average looking douchebag who might be interested in screwing me.

  I clearly wasn’t the one night stand type of girl, like at all, but I was so exhausted at this point that I felt I could let my guard down in terms of my attitudes about sex for the night, in hopes of scoring a bit of physical excitement in lieu of any other kind.

  I peered a
round the top of my glass at the men sitting around the bar, trying to gauge what interest they may or may not have in me. The answer, sadly, seemed to be not much… I felt so shy about my body all of the sudden, squirming around in my seat, almost subconsciously trying to deflect attention, rather than attract it. There were so many good looking girls in this bar, thinner, made up to look like models, their features like earthbound angels, willing to do devilish things to whatever man proved lucky enough to claim them.

  And what was I by comparison? Average looking, insecure, shy…

  Why the hell did I even bother?

  I peered back down over the lip of my glass, having taken the last sip, and the liquid now emptied out. Something about it seemed especially depressing to me, for a reason I couldn’t explain fully, and I sighed into the glass, watching it fog up under my nose.

  I must have sat there for longer than I genuinely realized, because after some time the bartender sat another glass down at my nose, and I stared at it blankly for a moment, confused…

  “Oh, um… I didn’t order…” I began, but the bartender brushed me off.

  “From the gentleman across the bar,” he said, and I subtly tried to look over, and to see to which “gentleman” he might be referring…

  I caught a glimpse of someone, partly in shadow – but no, that couldn’t be who he was referring to… Could it? Surely not… His features, although cast largely in darkness, were far too fine, far too perfect for him to be interested in me. Surely, there must be some scrawny little tit hiding behind him, a nobody who would come over and start flirting with me – and in my current mood, I might just decide to go home with him anyway…

  But at any rate, now I’d gawked too long, and far too awkwardly, so I decided that if the gentleman in question wanted to make himself known, he could come over and do so himself. I gulped down the alcohol in a single swallow, shivering as it burned down my throat, and then I waited, staring at the bar, counting down the moments…