She Wants It Rough

by Meegan Melons

  He tugs hard on my scalp, groaning as his hips jerk forward to thrust himself deeper. I would scream out loud if I could breathe. He pulls me down by my hair farther onto his cock, and I'm but a centimeter from touching my nose to him now.

  I put a hand on top of his and apply a little downward pressure to let him know it's okay to push me the rest of the way.

  Dark mascara is running all down my face and rolling over my cheeks. I know I must look ridiculous, but if this is what it takes to make Mr. Miller feel good, then I'll willingly be his little whore.

  With one final shove from behind, I make it all the way down. My bottom lip stretches tightly across his balls and the very tip of my nose grazes his pubis.

  "Ungh!" He yells. I'm desperate for air now, but I'm proud of myself for proving I could do it. I slobber and suck all along his cock as spurts of saliva jet from my lips and coat his balls.

  Then I moan and vibrate Mr. Miller’s cock with my vocal cords.

  I grope around the base of his shaft and begin bobbing my head up and down in time with quick strokes. Then I feel his cock twitch in my esophagus and I know he is fighting his every instinct to ejaculate in the deep wetness of my throat.

  I can't help but smirk a little at the though of how much he is enjoying this, so I let myself gag on his cock a little just for fun.

  The gag reflex forces the walls of my throat to clench tight around his throbbing dick. I continue bobbing and stroking like a naughty little whore just to tease him.

  His cock twitches again and I hope I haven't pushed him too far.

  I watch his jaw clench and he pulls on my hair again. I wince at the pain of Mr. Miller tugging on my scalp and another stream of tears rolls down my cheeks. I decide it's time to come up for air at last before I make him cum.

  I clasp the wrist of his arm holding my hair and lift myself slowly off his cock. My lips leave behind a trail of thick bubbly spit oozing down to his balls.

  He tries to fight me on my way up, to hold me down on his cock so he can cum. I tighten the grip around his wrist and twist.

  "Ah!" he yells at the burning sensation of his skin being stretched. I take the opportunity to lift my head completely off his dick as his cock continues to twitch just on the edge of climax.

  I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and tell him between heavy breaths,

  "See! I told you I could do it!"

  He squints hard as he fights in desperation to stop himself from cumming as my spit trickles down his cock. He lurches forward and groans,

  "Damn! Holy shit Beth..."

  "I know how to be a good little slut..." I mischievous grin spreads across my face. I turn around and bend over, lifting my tiny black ruffle skirt enough to expose my tight round ass and pink lacy panties. "Does Mr. Miller want to stick his cock in this tight little virgin pussy?"

  His hands spring forward and clutch me by the waists, pulling my ass toward his face. He tugs down hard on my panties to reveal my smooth, tanned ass cheeks. Then lifts my skirt up to bury his nose between my crack.

  "Ungh--yes!" I drop my hands to my knees and shove my ass into Mr. Miller’s face when I feel his tongue lapping at my pussy from behind. His tongue swirls around in my wetness and curls around to flick at my clit.

  My eyelids close shut and I bite my bottom lip, enjoying the sensation of Mr. Miller slurping at my virgin sweetness with relish.

  "Taste good?" I giggle, my body jolting forward with every slurp and suck.

  "Mmm..." he moans, and I begin to wonder if he's ever going to come up for air. His tongue circles my clit some more and my body writhes.

  Then I gasp when I feel the tip of it pushing against my asshole. It forces its way just inside and waggles about, stimulating nerves I never knew existed. I have to bite down harder on my lip just to stop myself from screaming.

  I bet he never did that for his wife. Mr. Miller really is enjoying this, isn't he?

  At last, he pulls back to take in a huge breath. He spins me around and wastes no time lifting off my tight pink shirt. He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me forward. My back arches as I reach around to get at my bra; my tits burst free and jiggle in Mr. Miller’s face.

  Then he opens wide and stuffs one breast into his mouth. With eyes closed, he sucks passionately on my nipple, flicking his tongue wildly around the areola. I hold his head against my tit, moaning as my head tilts back and my long hair sweeps across the curve of my spine.

  I hold him there for a long while, enjoying the sensation of electric tingles running up my neck.

  Then he releases the tight seal on my breast and it falls against my chest. The suction of his lips has turned my nipple blood red. He stands up from the bed and brings me in close before plunging his tongue into my mouth.

  He grabs hold of one ass cheek and pinches it hard as we make out.

  At last, he is giving in to desire. When our lips peel apart, I turn myself around and bend over while lifting up my skirt to ask,

  "Are you ready to fuck me, Mr. Miller?" He takes a rough grip on the sides of my ass and plants the tip of his cock against my sacrum. The shaft inserts itself between my cheeks and glides along my crack, lubricated by my wet juices and his own saliva.

  Bent over and still holding my skirt up, I turn my head to tell him,

  "I want you inside me..." I lick my tongue around at the corner of my mouth and spread my ass cheeks wide.

  "But, what if..." he says, and I can feel his hands trembling slightly. He must be worried that I might get pregnant. But it means more to me that I give him the best orgasm of his life. I have finally turned his thoughts away from his wife.

  There is no way I'm going to let him stop now. Once I get him to enter me, she will be the last thing on his mind.

  "Fuck me Mr. Miller... Please!" He uses a thumb to push down on the neck of his shaft so the tip is aligned with my quivering wet entrance. I buck my hips backward against his cock and the tip of it compresses between my folds.

  As he pushes deeper, I can feel the tightness of my entrance giving way to his throbbing dick. He is almost inside me now.

  He grabs hold of my hips with apprehension and I feel the force of his hands pulling me backward onto his cock. The head of it slips in the wetness of my tight entrance and my body jolts as the girth of him spreads my insides apart. The size of him is enough to make me flinch.

  As he enters me, my tight walls squeeze around his dick down the neck. The pulse of his cock beats inside me, shooting tingles down to my toes. My legs quake and my knees knock together. I am having trouble standing.

  He spreads his legs for balance and continues to guide my pussy along his shaft. We moan together when my tightness is wrapped around his entire length.

  Mr. Miller’s cock slides in the wet juices of my pussy until his balls reach my labia. My hips buck against him out of reflex when his head bottoms out at my cervix.

  There is a subtle pain in all of it, but it is quickly masked by the euphoric shivers running up my spine.

  My back arches and he puts a hand on my shoulder to hold me in place on his cock. My ass clenches and my walls squeeze even tighter around the whole of his dick.

  With the hands on my hip and shoulder, he begins rocking me back and forth along the length of his shaft. My fluids coat his cock in a wet sheen that reflects the dim light of the bedroom.

  Again and again, he jerks me forward and back. He pulls out so his tip is just inside me, then impales me on his cock until he is balls deep. His thrusting is becoming increasingly rapid and forceful. Mr. Miller is taking me like his little whore, just the way I wanted.

  As he fucks me from behind, I smile at the thought of him finding so much enjoyment in taking my body any way he wants. Now I can give him everything that he deserves.

  While Mr. Miller’s hips beat against me, I reach around to grab hold of his ass and assist his wild thrusting. He huffs and groans as warm beads of sweat land on the small of my back and pool there. I buck my ass agai
nst him as I push from behind, squeezing my walls tight as I can.

  Then I feel the familiar twitch of his head tickling my cervix. I think he might be getting ready to cum. Is he really going to do it? Is he actually going to shoot his load up inside me?

  "Mr. Miller I'm--I'm not on the pill..." He continues his forceful thrusting into the depths of my pussy. I'm not sure he even heard me over the sound of his grunting. His cock twitches inside me again, and I think he may be committed.

  He already made up his mind about this before he stuck his cock in me.

  The fear begins to subside in the euphoric energy building deep in my core. His throbbing dick drills into me, slipping and sliding in the deluge of juices gushing from my quivering pussy.

  My whole torso shudders. I would fall over if it weren't for him clinging to my ass.

  "Beth, I'm--I'm going to--" He is going to get me pregnant for sure. But none of that matters anymore. It just feels too fucking good to worry about any of that now. If this is what it takes to finally make him happy again, then I will coax every single drop of semen from his cock.

  The head of his stiff dick slams into my cervix and it sends me over the edge into ecstasy. My body writhes and my legs clamp together and I scream out.

  My pink fingernails dig deep into his ass to hold him inside as the explosion of orgasmic energy flows out from my core and tingles in every extremity.

  "Fuck! I'm gonna fucking cum!" He yells. I gyrate my hips and work the whole of his cock as my walls contract reflexively upon reaching climax. Then I gasp when I feel his warm spunk spilling into my uterus.

  I can't believe he actually did it! We moan together in mutual ecstasy as my tight pussy glides up and down along his cock, milking every bit of cum from his dick.

  His massive load fills all of my insides; a torrential stream of fluids gushes out from me and trickles down his balls.

  He spasms against me, then goes limp at the waist. His cheek rests upon my arched spine and his knees buckle.

  We collapse together on the carpet floor. He lands on top of me while his cock continues to shudder and spurt more of his seed into me. As we lie there panting in unison, basking in the afterglow of climax, I know that I now carry his child.

  I am in the most fertile period of my menstrual cycle after all. I may have forgotten to mention that to Mr. Miller, but I did warn him that I wasn't on the pill.

  Then he grunts and rolls off of me onto his back and I know instantly that it was all worth it. Mr. Miller is finally smiling again.

  Punishing Maddie

  When I stole Mr. Peterson’s credit card, it was a relatively harmless thing. At least at first.

  It’s not like I’m a klepto or anything like that. It was just a little bit of fun. Mostly to see if he’d notice. A girl has got to explore her naughty side once in awhile, you know?

  But the reality is that I’m a girl with expensive taste and a shit job that doesn’t afford luxuries.

  It was innocent enough in the beginning. First it was a cute little skirt that was on sale. With a matching handbag. And just some shoes to complete the look. Totally harmless.

  Hell, Mr. Peterson even got to see me prancing around in those skimpy little outfits. I always get a kick out of watching the bulge in his pants get bigger whenever I stop by to say hello.

  It’s fun watching him try to hold his attention on my face instead of on my busty tits in a low cut tank. I know he likes to catch glimpses of my tight round ass whenever I give him the right angle. It’s good fun teasing him with a little show.

  He just doesn’t know he’s paying for all of it.

  I sort of figured the card would start getting declined, at least at some point.

  But it kept going through. It was like having a rich boyfriend in my pocket. My little magic plastic buddy who could conjure money out of thin air.

  And the best part of all—it didn’t ask for blowjobs in return. Not like all my other boyfriends. Getting what I wanted before always meant putting out.

  Except I’d never go any further than giving head. It’s ridiculous how every single guy expects me to just spread my legs in the air for every little favor. And usually it’s more than that. Like the last guy I dated who wanted me to let him put it up my ass just for getting me a birthday present. Which was a bottle of lube.

  Needless to say, that relationship didn’t last. I’m only nineteen, but I’ve got standards to maintain.

  So technically that means I’m still a virgin. But if dildos counted then I’d be a dirty silicone-loving slut.

  After all the small items—new clothes, purses, shampoo, lipstick, tampons—I guess I kind of went overboard. Suddenly, when money wasn’t an object, I found myself wanting to sample every kind of naughty toy I could get my hands on.

  I started out with the basics—an assortment of dildos and vibrators—then I went on to explore my kinkier side and shopped for stuff to stick up my ass. I bought everything—anal beads, butt plugs—you name it. With a magic wand in my pussy, a plug deeply embedded in my tiny asshole—I didn’t know it was possible to cum so hard.

  That is, until I started masturbating while thinking about Mr. Peterson.

  And so what if I’m saving myself for an older man? All the other guys I’ve been with have treated me like shit anyway. But Mr. Peterson is different.

  Ever since I moved in next door, we’ve had a unique kind of relationship. There was sexual tension in the air even the first time we met. I could read it all over his face. He’s dying to know what it’s like to get inside this tight little pussy.

  Now I derive a certain kind of satisfaction watching him blush. It must drive him crazy seeing me flaunt this sexy ass around him all the time—he probably deserves a piece of it.

  Plus he’s really good looking for his age, and I’ve always been more attracted to older men. He is tall with broad shoulders, and his handsome face has managed to maintain many of its youthful features. He likes to wear plain tight fitting shirts that really showcase his commitment to staying fit.

  You’d never know he was in his mid-forties just by looking at him. I’ve often thought about what it’d be like to be cradled in those arms at night, sleeping soundly in the comfort and safety of those rippling biceps. And of course, the security that comes with being filthy fucking rich.

  So in that respect, Mr. Peterson is wealthy on all accounts. Which is why I didn’t feel that guilty when I slipped his Platinum Credit Card into the back pocket of my skinny jeans one night when he invited me inside. He had at least four others, so I wondered if he’d even notice.

  And so far, he still hasn’t.

  But things got a bit out of control when I graduated to the hardcore stuff. I racked up thousands of dollars in a mega shopping spree for fuck toys, each one even better than the last. The orgasms were so intense that before long I was squirting like a porn star.

  I never even knew I could do that. The hard part was always keeping quiet so Mom wouldn’t hear.

  And with every new toy, I imagined that it was Mr. Peterson inside me, fucking my brains out and making me cum like never before. I’d think about getting pinned down by his chest, every bulging muscle carved perfectly from marble, grinding against me and thrusting himself up to my hilt.

  When the orgasm came in an explosion of twitching in my floral sheets, I’d think about all the ways I wanted to return the favor. After all, all this pleasure was made possible by Mr. Peterson’s credit card. It’s only fair that I should offer some compensation.

  Sometimes I’ll stick a giant dildo down my throat just to see how far I can go. Good practice for when I get the chance to deep-throat Mr. Peterson’s enormous cock.

  And it wasn’t long before long started craving the real thing. It’s like an obsession, the carnal thoughts spreading like wildfire in my mind of every naughty thing I want Mr. Peterson to do to me.

  I want to see the look on his face when I choke down his cock and milk the cum from his balls. I want to garg
le his hot load in my mouth and savor the taste of him before swallowing it all in one giant gulp.

  Then I’ll lick my lips and beg for more.

  But I get the feeling Mr. Peterson is too shy to ever make a move. Besides that, he probably thinks that I’m way too young for him.

  That’s why I’m going to be the one to initiate—by coming clean.

  I’m going over to his house first thing in the morning to confess. I’ll tell him all about stealing the credit card and the insane amount of debt.

  Then I’ll burst into apologetic tears and ask him to hold me. I’ll sob into his chest while he comforts me, tells me it’s all going to be okay.