"What do you think of that? Hmm? You know I'm your little slut. Your little cock whore. You've been good. I'll let you enjoy yourself a little, but don't you cum just yet. You're still my slave."
I give you another teasing reminder before I continue going down on you again. I put my hands on either side of you and graze my tongue along your long, hard shaft. I feel you twitch and moan under me.
"Enjoying this are we? Close? Good. I'm keeping you there."
I fit you into my mouth and am rewarded with a loud moan and you reach down and grab my hair. I moan as well and close my mouth as I cum all over your leg.
"Oh god, you do taste good."
I put you into my mouth again and tease you close to the edge before stopping and pulling you out of my mouth. I flick my tongue over the tip of your head. You squirm and try to push my head down but I don't let you.
"Uh uh uh...You're not being very good. You do want to cum don't you?" You moan and squirm but loosen your grip. "Good. Now.."
I get you sufficiently wet again before I fit your long hard dick between my tits. I squeeze them together and begin stroking your entire length. The sounds you make and the feel and sight of your dick makes me cum on you again. As I feel you reaching the edge again I stop. This time, however, you stay still.
"Now, it's time to really please your mistress. I can't let you come just yet, but I need to cum oh so badly. You make me so hot and horny. Prove to me how much you want it. How much you want me. Finger me until I cum over and over again. Don't stop until I say so."
Before I even finish speaking you move into position. I lay on my back as you spread my legs and insert your fingers into me. Almost immediately I begin cumming...and cumming... and cumming...I bite down hard on your arm to muffle the yelling.
"Fuck that feels so good. Ahhh! Mmm...oh god. Yes...Again...and again...mmm fuck me."
Your hand is covered with my juices and so is everything around us before I finally tell you to stop. You do it again one last time and remove your fingers from my dripping, soaked pussy. After several more seconds of subsiding ecstasy I sit up and flip you over to the bottom again. I slide my pussy over your rock hard length again before inserting you into me with a hard thrust. You groan as I begin to move on top of me and your hands grab at my tits.
"I told you I would reward you didn't I? Is this what you wanted?"
You nod. You reach a spot again and I flow all over your dick, pushing my tits into your face. You hungrily lick at them as I moan. I then stop and roll over to my side, presenting my ass to you. Confused for a second, you then understand and grab at my ass, pulling it apart.
"Fuck my ass as hard as you can. Do whatever you want. I'm all yours...I'm your little cock whore. Push it in...it's so tight..."
With all the previous lubrication you slide it in with relative ease and begin pounding away as I groan and moan, grabbing onto any part of you I can reach and pulling you in closer. Before we know it I cum soon and with the extra friction so do you, your hot cum filling me up inside.
"God I love that feeling." I turn around to stare at you. "Well that was fun, hun."
The End.
Brief Encounter
It's early morning and I haven't slept in days. The sun is brushing up against the horizon and the last twinkle of the stars is fading into a rich blue glow behind the silhouettes of the trees. I've been working at the club all night, drinking vodka and smoking cigarettes. The air is chill and fresh and it makes my eyes feel hollow and my body feel sharp.
I come to your house and quietly I let myself in. I make two cups of coffee and take them up the stairs. I feel greasy and tired and I think about borrowing your shower but as I get upstairs I hear the water running. You're up already and in the shower, getting ready for your day. I go into your room and I sit on the bed and sip my coffee while I listen to you showering. I kick off my shoes and wiggle my toes on your carpet.
The water shuts off and I can feel myself waiting; waiting for you to come into the room. I sip my coffee and watch the door.
You walk in, one towel wrapped round your body, another for your hair. You see me on the bed and flash me a daring little smile. You're not surprised to see me here, although you never ask how I get in. I take another slug of coffee and just watch you dry your hair and brush it back.
Watching you fills me with an urge to touch you. Maybe it's the way you move your hair, the way you watch yourself in the mirror while you brush. I trace the contours of your body with my eye. The towel hides a lot, but my imagination fills in the gaps.
I rise smoothly and walk up to you. You pause, holding the brush in your hair. I walk up close, so I'm just a few inches from you. Your eyes are wide and beautiful. Your mouth is slightly open as if you were about to say something but it didn't quite come out. I reach up and gently take hold of the brush. You don't resist as I slide it out of your hand.
Part of me worries that I stink of the nightclub, of smoke and alcohol. I know I should take a shower. But you're right here in front of me. Your breathing is almost timid like you're scared to move. Part of me worries that if I go to shower you might get dressed before I can come back. Worse, you might rush off to work and escape me completely.
I drop the hairbrush on the floor. We don't break eye contact so much as a glance to see where it falls. I lick my lips and I can feel my own breath. I tilt my head toward the wall.
"Turn around."
You turn, keeping your eyes on me as long as you can, until you're facing the wall. I gently put my hand on the small of your back and push you. You resist a little at first, uncertain of what I'm trying to do. Then you take a step. I keep the pressure on with my hand and guide you forward the few more steps it takes to get you up against the door. I hear you swallow and feel the tension in your body.
I stand close behind you and I can smell the shampoo on your hair and the fresh scent of your clean skin. I take a fist full of the towel at the back and pull at it gently. You try to step back as I pull, but I hold you still with my other hand. The towel comes undone and I drop it to the floor.
You stand still, your breasts just brushing the gloss wood of the door, your arms at your sides, your legs just slightly apart. You shiver just a little and I wonder if it's the excitement or just the cool air on your damp body.
I place my hand at the small of your back and slide it slowly up you -- up over the smooth, soft skin of your back, my palm curving round your shoulder blade as my fingers touch your hair. I move my hand up to the nape of your neck. My fingers curl round one side, my thumb the other. I gently massage the sides of your neck, enjoying the way your hair cascades off the back of my hand.
I step up close and I can feel the fly of my jeans brush up against your ass. I keep stroking your neck and you murmur quietly to yourself, little pleasure noises in your throat. You rock your head to one side to let my fingers slide up to your ear, my palm cupping the back of your head.
I step forward, my body pressing you up to the wood. You gasp and flinch; I guess the wood much be a cold shock on your hot stomach. I don't give an inch, I keep you pressed up firmly; the door will be warm soon enough. I feel the way your ass pushes against me and you try to keep yourself from the cold wood. It presses my jeans up against my panties; my panties up against my pussy.
I realize how hot I've become. My hands tremble slightly and I find I want to just rub up against your ass. I want to press you up against the door until you feel like you're fucking the woodwork.
My tits are squashed up against your back and I can hold you here without need of my hands now. I put one hand on each of your shoulders and I run my fingertips down your arms. You're trembling so bad I think you might just collapse to the floor if I let you go. I rock my hips, rubbing up against you, rubbing you against the door. You lean your head back onto my shoulder and I put my fingers on your lips.
You bite my finger and the sharp sting of pain makes me twitch. I force myself up against you harder and you gasp and moan. I slide my hand rou
nd your shoulder, my fingers clawing across your throat, and I arch you back slightly while I thrust my hips forward. The door bangs in the frame as I push you up on it again.
Then your hand is between us, your palm facing out, you fingers seeking along my jeans until you grab the belt hooks. Your thumb finds the top button and you press at it, fumbling to undo me. I want you to. I want to be naked and up against you. I back up just enough to give you access, but I don't help you. My hands are busy.
I hold you steady with one hand and I slide one the round your chest, slipping my fingers down between your breasts, rubbing down the center line with two fingers. I want to pull your hair and I want to put a hand between your legs. I just don't have enough hands. I explore your chest, teasing your nipples with my nails, rubbing firmly round the curve of your breasts.
My jeans come undone and at once your hand slides into the front, your fingers grabbing roughly against my panties. I move forward again, trapping your hand between us. Your wrist pressed against your ass and your fingers pressing the cloth of my panties hard into my pussy. I try to bite your ear but get a mouthful of hair.
You're trying to push your ass out and I'm rubbing myself up against it while your fingers wiggle up between my legs, trying to work round the edge of my underwear. I use my hand on your chest to hold you now and move my other hand round your hip, curving round the front until my fingers find the hot wet lip of your pussy.
My jeans are slipping down my thighs and you manage to pull my panties aside. I feel your finger pushing into me and I mirror with my own finger on you. I'm breathing hot in your ear and I wonder if you can smell the vodka in my breath. I want to eat you. I want to fuck you so hard you scream my name.
Each time you move your finger I do the same. You slide it in, hooking at the hot, wet flesh and I curl my finger in you. I move on my toes, rubbing my chest on your back. My bra rubs against my breasts and I wish I was naked. I can't stop now to undress. I don't want to change anything in case you stop moving your fingers in me. I'm so hot I could burst.
I move both hands between your legs, relying on the fact that you're leaning your top half on the door to keep balance. I rub my palm over your clit while my other hand pushes into you. My breath is coming out in uneven gasps and shivers. My legs feel unsteady. I push up onto my toes, my calves twitching and I know I'm going to cum first.
I don't try to fight it. I let your fingers guide me. You must know how close I am because you start to rub slow and firm up the front of my pussy and I tremble against you. It rises in me like a flood; from my toes to my throat every nerve pulls taught at once. I feel my whole body shudder as the wave breaks and escapes my mouth in a long silent cry.
For a moment I can't do anything but stand there, bathed in the glow and the warmth of your body. I open and close my mouth a few times, trying to work out how to breathe. Then the air slips from my lungs in a sigh.
I slide myself off your fingers and I can feel my arms are shaking. You're standing naked up against the door. My arms are still around you; my hands are still clutching your pussy.
I move smoothly and firmly, taking your shoulder in my hand and turning you round to face me. I push my lips onto yours and find your mouth is hot and open. I push my tongue into your mouth, hungry for you. I can taste the mint of your toothpaste. I dread to think what you can taste in my mouth.
I stand up close to you so that your nipples brush my t-shirt with every move I make. I slide my hand up between your legs and gently caress you. I run my finger slowly along the lips of your pussy, from one end right to the other. You're trembling again and I hold you steady with one hand on your shoulder while I rub you with long, rocking strokes. I kiss your neck, your throat, your collar. I nuzzle up against you and lick your ear.
I can feel your body shaking. I can pull you right to the edge with just the tip of my finger. You dig your toes into the carpet and lean your head on the door. Your eyes are closed. Your mouth is open. Your legs are losing control.
I'm barely touching now. Each little brush of my nail on your clit makes you convulse right through your whole body. I keep touching. You're going to cum. I can feel it. You can't hold it much longer.
I slide my finger up into you all the way. A firm, slow thrust until my palm feels your wet lips. You gasp and shake. I rock my hand up against you. Your knees fold under you and you grab hold of me to steady yourself. You bury your face in my chest and cling to me; your whole body rocking like an earthquake.
You twitch for ages, each little spasm coupled with a gasping breath. You fingers dig into my shoulders and I feel like I'm supporting your whole body with my one hand. After long, glorious moments, you pull your hips away. I feel your body slide off my fingers leaving them sticky and wet, cooling in the air.
I wrap my arms about you and we stand a moment, hugging in the early morning light, your body still trembling with aftershocks. You look up, your eyes shining like stars. Your cheeks and throat are flushed red and hot. I kiss you tenderly. You brush my cheek with your hand.
You dress quickly while I sit on the bed and watch you. I've probably made you a little late for work, but I hope it was worth it. Once you're ready, you kiss me and run.
I lie back on your bed, my jeans still undone and open. I can still smell you in the room. I feel warm like I'm wrapped in cotton wool; safe in the cocoon of your home. I know I should shower. I know I should probably eat something. But I just want to stay here for a while remembering your body, your heat, your eyes.
The End.
Tough Lesson Learned
There is a curious balance between watched and watching. Between prey and predator. He sees the whole class, he watches her. She sees him; she watches her back and knows because of this she is being watched. But by whom she doesn't fully know.
It's a teacher, she knows. She feels the disapproving eyes on her as she moves from group to group, but they don't see all, they don't know. Or, if they do, there's nothing they can do. She never brings anything contraband to college, she never sells in this district. Oh, sure she's got some customers from this area, she's even sold to one or two teachers before. Those were awkward times, when she'd got a call from another part of the city, only to turn up to find the person behind the door was a teacher. Was her teacher. Those were the classes she got the best grades in now. She thought of it as lubricating her future. There was no way she was going to be stuck in this dump with these losers for the rest of her life. She was going to make a name for herself. Everyone would know Elsa.
Well, everyone already did. Everyone knew Elsa sold the best weed. Yes, you had to pay a little bit more for it, but it was clean and not cut with anything else to carry the weight. Elsa was someone you could trust. But still, there was this feeling she had, on the back of her neck. Someone knew, someone wasn't happy.
Daniel Jennings stood at the widow of his chemistry lab on the third floor. It gave him a perfect bird's-eye view of the events in the school ground below. It was here that he first noticed Elsa's bizarre behaviour. Though she was one of the stoners; the crowd who didn't do so well in class, but never made too much of a fuss so teachers just let them coast on the lower grades; she rarely spent a lot of her time with them. As Daniel stood there sorting through the latest mock-exam papers for the upcoming STUDIES exams, he watched as Elsa flitted from group to group in the grounds below. In his hand he clutched her paper; he'd marked it as a low 'B' grade. But she was a stoner. It was her hand-writing. Even without comparing it to her class work, he knew it was her handwriting because of the distinctive way she wrote the word 'oxygen'. The 'xyg' looped into each other in such a way that it made Daniel think of those adverts for hydrating drinks.
He was still convinced she'd cheated somehow.
True, her grades had been high all year. Also true that she'd shown real interest in class. But still, she was a stoner. They coasted. They didn't get top-ten grades in class. Something was amiss, he was sure of it. His eyes drifted over her again. Perhap
s she was paying one of the science nerds in weed to do her homework for her, to feed her the answers. Perhaps she was cheating.
Daniel rolled the word around his head slowly. It wasn't often he thought this. He wanted to think the best of his pupils. But there was something up with her. He couldn't place it, but he knew it was something he didn't like. He was young for a teacher, not quite fresh out of University, but this was his second placement. The first, he'd lost that doe-eyed certainty that he was making a difference in the world in less than a term. Now he was just getting through each day. He was glad that he taught Chemistry. The ability to simply blow something up on a bad day and call it 'science' was very satisfying. His first school had been an inner-city one. The kids were rougher than this lot. A day where for one lesson he could be heard over the din of chaos was a good day. They didn't happen often.
This school was in the suburbs, true, but it wasn't the wealthy part of the city. It was the area bordering the slum part of the city, where prostitutes and drug dealers alike were selling their wares openly in daylight. Here, the prostitutes stayed home, the men came to them; the dealers went to your door instead of standing on the corner. It wasn't much better, but it was more discreet. No student of this college would achieve a glowing future; on the other hand, at least they weren't as doomed as those in the next district over.
Daniel sighed as he put the paper back in the pile. Far below, Elsa moved again from one group to the next, conversing with everyone, making sure she was on good terms with all.
------
For once Elsa did the normal teenaged thing of hanging around on a street corner, looking like she was up to no good. She'd run out of produce a while back, and had just enough time to get to the bank before it shut to deposit most of the cash into an account for her future. However, her curfew wasn't until nine, and in the summer it was warm and light outside at that time. At home all she had waiting for her was her drug-addled parents and cold, bad food. Her friends had gone home for their tea a long time ago, and she didn't want to go to the cinema alone, especially not this late. It was a school-night besides.
Mega Huge Collection of Rougher Daddies Page 49