She got off the bed and onto her knees, "I'll just leave that in for a few minutes, get my ass nice and ready. In the meantime..." she smiled and beckoned Don to come nearer. He immediately strode over, his hard prick levitating in front of her face. Susan's tongue came out and touched it, "Let me oil this up for you."
"It's your ass," agreed Don. He gave a small groan as Susan's mouth slid over his erect member. She pushed her head down far, feeling the large prick going in deeper, pinning her tongue to the bottom of her mouth and pushing at the back of her throat. She gagged a little, sending more saliva over it a wet coating. Then she moved back, looking up at Don who's face was a picture of contentment. She repeated the motion, taking the prick deep into her mouth, as she leaned forward she could feel the butt-plug moving slightly in her ass, doing its job well. Above her Don gave a groan of pleasure.
Susan continued the blowjob for a few moments, she wanted to make sure Don was hard and his cock was so wet it would slide in, but she had to make sure he didn't cum in her mouth. Sure, sometimes a wet sloppy bj was all a woman needed for the perfect night, but not when she was looking forward to getting her ass fucked. She pulled her mouth back one last time, looking approvingly at the large cock, quivering in front of her, dripping saliva. The brunette stood up and pulled at the butt-plug. It came out with a pop. She dropped it on the floor and jumped onto her bed, spreading herself out and gripping her ass cheeks to pull them apart. She turned her head to Don, "You're ready, I'm ready. Now come fuck my ass."
Within seconds he was on her back, his hard, muscular frame pushing at her as he guided the iron slab of meat into her back passage. Susan groaned, clawing at the bed, as the large dick entered her ass. The butt-plug had helped, but even so it was like being pulled in two as the cock carved down deep. Her ass stretched and ached more as Don continued to drive it down, past where the butt-plug had been and into territory, which if not virgin was at least untouched for a couple of weeks. Susan closed her eyes and grunted, she knew what was coming and didn't mind a bit of painful stretching as a prelude to the high-intensity orgasms she'd soon be getting. But as she tensed she could feel Don slow, as if he was concerned that her ass couldn't cope with his big dick. Susan gave another groan and let out a call of encouragement, "Fuck me stud, fuck my ass hard."
He continued working his cock in, sometimes pausing and pulling back to thrust deep down again. The anal walls stretched, letting the saliva soaked slab of sex slide deeper. The young man moved faster, his thrusts harder, pushing further into the wanton asshole. Susan gasped in pleasure as she could feel it move so deep that it was hitting her clit from behind, the blasts of pleasure from the stimulation of her G-spot mixing with the waves of bliss from nerve endings in her ass getting stimulated. She let out a moan, "Fuck my ass harder. Gape it, open it, wreck it."
"No problemo, Susie," gasped the young hunk and he continued to move faster and harder. His hard body whacked against hers, the pecs bouncing as he hit her body and his hard stomach slapping into the small of her back so perfectly that it was like they were almost moulded together. Susan could feel herself being shoved deeper into her soft bedding, her wet pussy soaking the quilt as it pushed into her front hole and her hard nipples warming with the friction as they rubbed against the duvet. She gripped the quilt and gasped, the pleasure was strong and getting stronger. Above her Don was moving quicker and harder, really hammering his rock hard dick as far as it could go and it could go a long way, "This good Susie, this good for you?"
"Oh God this is so fucking good, this is so fucking hard," shrieked Susan as the dick rammed at her ass. She had enjoyed having her pussy ploughed by the huge prick, but this was twice as great, a fantastic blast of orgasmic gratification which raced round her body like a Superbike rally. Don's hard body continued to pound on top of her, with every thrust she could feel his breathe on the back of her neck, coming in short spurts and feel the warmth of his skin, made wet by the sweat soaking it. She screamed again as another wave of pleasure shot round her body, "This is so fucking hot. Ram my ass harder, ram it open. I want to feel it."
Don was grunting in exertion as he gave it his all. Pounding down so hard that the bed creaked and wobbled, its legs shaking like it was in an earthquake and was struggling to stand. Susan was screaming, loud and passionate, a series of cries. Her ass was exploding with joy, a constant series of orgasms flying through her. She could feel the cum pumping from her cunt, making the bed damp beneath her. The strong, hard dick pounded down, hammering her G-spot from behind and blasting her with pleasure. She shrieked again, "Fuuuuuccckkk... this is... fuuuucckkkk, fuuuccckkk, fuuuucckkk!"
There was no warning of the cum explosion. One moment Don was pumping down, the next he had stopped and his prick was pumping white gooey semen into Susan's ass. The Milf moaned in pleasure as the cum slid down her chute, both burning as it went over her sore points and soothing as it slid down. Don pulled out and Susan moved onto her back, letting the cum slide out of her ass and pool on the bed beneath. Vaguely she thought she might want to change the sheets tomorrow.
*
"Hi Mom," Julie Mayer entered the house and dropped her night bag on the couch.
Susan looked up from her coffee and the morning paper and asked, "How was you Dad's?"
Julie didn't answer, which always suggested she had a good time or else she'd have bucked her Mom's morale up by telling her how terrible it had been and that her Dad's new girlfriend was the worst cook ever. Instead she smiled and asked a question of her own, "How was last night? Do anything exciting?"
"Not really," said Susan, "I went for a quick drink with Bree and then came back and changed the sheets on the beds."
Julie shook her head in despair, "You really should spend the evening out properly and make sure you have some fun, not hang round with Bree moaning about your love lives." She went back to the couch to pick up her bag to take to her room, suddenly she paused and turned to her Mom, an innocent frown on her face, "Mom, why are your panties on the floor?"
The End.
The Shadow People
Savannah opened her eyes and stretched languidly under her weighted comforter. The sun pierced through the slightly parted curtains and left a thick haze over her sleepy mind. Rolling over to her alarm clock, she was abruptly stopped by the shocking sight of the strange man lying beside her. He rested atop her blankets, trapping her under their encumbrance, with a lazy arm thrown across his eyes. Signs of stubble were appearing on his rigid chin, his russet hair grown out to his shoulders in tight curls. Long legs and thick muscular arms took up the majority of the space on the small twin bed, and Savannah suddenly felt cramped in her tiny place beside him.
Tentatively, she reached out one pianist finger to poke him in the shoulder. After a moment of stillness, she repeated the action. The big bulk beside her started shaking gently with amused laughter, and unexpectedly rolled over, tucking her tiny body under his much larger one. She squealed in mock fear and giggled loudly underneath his heavy weight, squirming in a false attempt to throw him off. His laughter became louder until it seemed to fill every crack and crevice in the room. Suddenly, his hands were upon her. Strong hands with long fingers, gripping her ribcage and causing her to go breathless with giggles. His hands ventured lower, thumbs pressing to the crease where her legs met with the triangle nestled between her thighs. Savannah squealed and bucked beneath him, forcing them both to fall off the bed, landing unceremoniously on the floor in a tangle of blankets and limbs.
"Savvy," he gasps between snorts. "You really need to get that looked at. It's unnatural to be so damned ticklish." Savannah cannot respond to his teasing, and she tries to gulp air in to her lungs. After a while their laughter dies down, and they lie together in complete silence. Savannah marvels at the peace she feels, lying with this man and just being perfectly still. He has always been the closest thing to family for Savannah, as she never knew her parents. Her foster mom was absolutely horrific, the type who adopted seven children
so that the state would send her money for her tequila Fridays. Mrs. Ashford was always raving on about demons and night walkers, telling stories with such vivid details that Savannah spent many nights awake with terror. Last night was no different, her mind replaying the things it conjured up during Ashford's drunken stupor. Flashes of dark creatures with twisted limbs creep into her mind, and Savannah shakes her head in an attempt to clear it. It's unfair that even now, when she is safe and content in his arms, she still lives in fear of the monsters under the bed.
"Thank you for staying with me last night. I know you must be getting tired of me by now." Savannah whispers in to his shoulder, hiding her face in shame. She feels his lips on her head, laying a kiss in her tangle of flaxen hair.
"I will never tire of you, don't be so derisible. You know I love you sprog." He squeezes her in his arms to hold her closer, as if chasing away her thoughts. Savannah hates it when he calls her sprog, a nickname she acquired for being the youngest of the seven children. Ten years later and he still calls her the kid. It annoys her, but at the same time makes her feel happy, due to the familiarity of it. Perhaps she will miss it once he's gone.
"Chase, what do you think happiness feels like?"
For a long time he does not answer. Then he rolls them over on the floor and tucks her into the fold of his body, sheltering her from the crisp morning air. He squeezes again, keeping silent all the while. Finally, as Savannah begins to drift off to sleep once more, he whispers in her ear. "I think it feels like this."
"Then why are you so eager to leave me?" She says the words before she can stop them, and immediately wishes that she had the power to take them back. It is unfair of her to wish this hell on him, selfish of her to ask him to stay. But that is what she has just done.
"I'm not leaving you, Savvy. I'll be waiting, and as soon as you're eighteen, I'll come back for you. I promise." He nuzzles the curvature of her neck, breathing her her familiar scent and marvelling at the smoothness of her skin. "I won't ever leave you," he swears. "Don't you trust me?" He can feel her tense in his arms, but he will never understand her aversion to trusting people. And not just people, but him.
The nightmares have taken over her life now, real blending with the make believe in her waking hours, and trust isn't an emotion she readily feels. Especially not for Chase, not after what her mind's eye has seen. But how could she tell him that? After all, he has only ever showed kindness to her. How could she explain her fear towards him, when it doesn't even make sense to herself?
"I trust you," she lies, the words singing her tongue on the way out. "I won't leave you either." Savannah says this as an afterthought, not really understanding why it felt so important to say.
Chase laughs. "Course you won't." But there is something in his voice, something that wasn't there before. However, before Savannah can ask him about it, there is a loud bang right outside the door, followed shortly by Mrs. Ashford's wailing. Suddenly, the door swings open with such force it nearly comes off its hinges.
"Jasny zachrance!" She bursts in to the room, blood caking her face and hair, fingernails covered in grime. "Run!" She grabs Savannah by her tangled hair and lifts her from the floor, ignoring her thrashing in pain. "Musi bezet, zustante v bezpeci!" Savannah can see Chase rising from the floor, anger and panic evident in his eyes. She herself does not feel angry, or even afraid. She is only confused. Mrs. Ashford rambling in an unknown language is nothing new to the foster children, even physical violence is a common occurrence, especially for Savannah, who often encouraged the old drunks wrath. But where has all this blood come from?
Mrs. Ashford has taken Savannah to the window now, and throws her against it. "Stupid girl," she spits. "Run!" Savannah blindly turns to the window and pushes it open, she lifts herself on to the sill and begin to wiggle through. She is almost completely out when a loud crash causes her to look back. Mrs. Ashford lies on the ground, her mouth opened impossibly wide in a soundless scream, blood flowing past her lips. She is dead. Savannah has never seen someone die before. She looks up to see Chase struggling with a man dressed all in black. No, not a man, a creature. With skin so dark it looks like the ocean water at night, and silver tattoos like the moonlight reflecting off the surface. "Prestan!" He shouts. His teeth resemble those of a sharks, long and pointed, stained yellow and red. As if her commanded them, a half dozen more creatures run past him in to the room, headed straight for Savannah. Chase screams and tackled the shouting man to the floor, bringing his knee down on the creatures snarling face with impressive force. Someone hits him in the head from behind, and Chase falls to the floor. The creature springs upon him, sinking his teeth in to Chase's shoulder with a sickening sound.
Savannah tears her eyes away from the horrifying scene in time to see three of the beasts simultaneously reaching out towards her. She shrieks, loud and high in pitch, and throws her body desperately out the window. One of the things manages to grab a fistful of hair, and for a terrifyingly painful moment Savannah is suspended in the air. Arrows of pain shoot through her skull, a scream lodged in her throat. The creatures are shouting to one another, voices like gravel that crawl on the surface of her flesh. She reaches up and grips the hand holding her, digging her finger nails in to the rubbery skin there as hard as she possibly can. She hits the ground hard, rolling her ankle as she does so, but she cannot stop. She knows what happens next, she has seen it before. Only this time, these are not creatures of her imagination. These are not the things she sees in her dreams at night, after one of Ashford's bedtime stories.
Savannah's stomach rolls at the thought of Mrs. Ashford, lying dead in a pool of her own blood. Blood that was much thicker than she would have imagined. Chase's screams follow her out of the yard, seem to echo off every house in the abandoned neighbourhood. Where is everyone? Why is no one coming to save them?
Vomit threatens its way up her throat and Savannah struggles to keep it at bay. She knows she must run, but the undeniable need to turn back for him is causing her feet to stick to the ground. She also knows, however, that every second of indecision may cost her her life. In the dream, they come from the mouth of the alley to her left. Closing her eyes against the oncoming tears, Savannah turns away and runs with all her strength, runs for her life. ~~
"Sire, we have found it." The Shadow Creature walks towards him with an unsuppressed gleam in its white eyes. The movements are awkward, as the creature is bent disproportionately at the waist and has limbs that jut out at impossible angles. He never did like the Shadow People, but their powers were undeniable indeed, and their numbers great. They would prove to be of much use when the time for war finally arrived. And if what this creatures says is true, that time will soon be here.
"Where is it?" He demands, patience worn out. He is so close to his goal, he can taste victory on the tip of his tongue.
"Kept in the basement, sire. Chains you see. It tried to flee." The creature snickers, laughing at its own cleverness.
He leaves for the basement, barely holding on to his sanity, but stops to address the creature once more. "What, exactly, is it Pecks? I have always wondered, but now..." He does not say that he is afraid, that would be untrue. And unwise, to show weakness in the face of a shadow creature. But in all honesty, he is hesitant to go down to the basement without knowing. He has been searching for such a long time for The Torch, now that it has been found, he is indeterminate.
The creature laughs some more, blood gurgling in its throat. "A surprise, master." He chuckles. "A most wonderful surprise." ~~
Savannah awakes to an amount of pain she has surely never felt before, and to the feeling of being prodded. She tries opening her eyes, but one of them seems to be swollen shut. She cannot remember how she got here. The last thing she does remember was running for her life, making her way in to the city, when suddenly all of the shadows on the street became alive. They jumped at her, shapeless monsters, faceless beings, scratching and clawing. And burning. Every surface of her body felt alight in flame.
She longs to claw the flesh from her bones, simply to get the fire off of her. But her hands, she realizes with a start, are chained above her head. She is hanging from a ceiling. What an odd thing, she thinks to herself, I have always wondered what this would feel like. Then the panic sinks in, and whatever thoughts she had, rational or no, are wiped clear from her mind. She can see them, the Shadow People from Mrs. Ashford's stories, the creatures that kept her awake at night for years. In the flesh, surrounding her.
Screams of terror rip from her body as she wriggles uselessly in her confinement. One of the creatures grabs her chin and forces her to look at it. Him, she thinks it is a him. At first, distinguishing a gender for these creatures seemed like a good idea to her, maybe it would humanize them more and make them seem less terrifying in her own mind. Now, though, seeing the look it, he, is giving her, she realises that nothing she does will make her less scared.
The creature bends forward, moving its head without moving the rest of its body, and licks the side of her face. He runs his purple tongue over her jaw line and up to her closed lips, laughing from his throat all the while. Another beast has hands on her thighs, inching slowly up underneath her nightgown. Nausea bubbles in her stomach, her head begins to spin. All she can feel is terror, and pain.
A shout from the doorway causes the creatures to scatter. Savannah looks up to see a man standing in the borders of the door, taking up almost all the space. His shape is large, impossibly so. He looks to be seven feet tall, and built with so many muscles they even it out. He takes a tentative step towards her, then another, and finally steps in to the light.
Mega Huge Collection of Rougher Daddies Page 114