She Wants It Rough

by Meegan Melons

  Lucky for Mr. Thompson, I'm here to give him a second chance.

  "That feels good," I say, smiling as Mr. Thompson takes my foot in his lap and starts massaging it. I flex my foot, stretching the muscles of my leg, moaning.

  "Y'know... your wife never deserved such a loving husband." His hands freeze. The thought of his wife brought up too many unpleasant memories. Mr. Thompson clutches my foot harder; the memories had triggered anger and resentment.

  "I bet I give better massages than her..." I sit up on the couch and reach to massage his slumped shoulders. His eyes close softly and he lurches forward as I massage away the tension.

  "I bet I fuck better than her, too." He wasn't expecting me to say that. His neck goes erect and his eyes shoot wide open. He turns toward me with an exasperated look and I can't hold back my giggling. I get up to saddle myself over his lap. To my surprise, Mr. Thompson doesn't react.

  "Would you like to find out?" I tug down on my tight tank top to expose my bare breasts behind it. Mr. Thompson just stares up at me, looking totally perplexed.

  "Go on... give them a little suck..." I grab one of my tits and bring the nipple to his trembling lips. I open my mouth a bit, encouraging him to do the same.

  When his lips part slightly, I rub my nipple around the edge of them. I bring my hand to the back of his neck and run my fingers through his dark hair, nudging him in closer.

  Then his lips form a tight seal around my areola and his eyelids drop. Mr. Thompson flicks his tongue wildly on my nipple, moaning and sucking with delight. My neck tilts back and my back arches.

  Mr. Thompson opens his mouth wider to get as much of my breast inside as he can fit. I bring my other hand down to my crotch and dip my fingers beneath my shorts.

  "Mmm..." I moan, rocking my chest against him while I finger my clit. "I'm so wet for you already..." My tongue darts to the corner of my mouth and circles the edge of my lips.

  My legs wrap around his waist still on the couch and I thrust myself into his hard abdomen. Then I start to gyrate my hips and bounce around in his lap, dry humping the rising tent of his jeans.

  I let out a playful squeal when he picks me up by the ribcage while my legs are still wrapped around him and tosses me back onto the couch. I stretch my legs out straight for him to tug my shorts and panties off while I lift off my tank top.

  When I'm naked, my legs are spread eagle toward him, inviting him to fuck me.

  Mr. Thompson pushes against my knees so they're at the sides of my head. My legs jolt in the air when he dives face first into my wetness and licks all around. He puckers his lips and slurps between my folds, lapping up the sweetness of my juices with total relish. His tongue flicks my clit and my hips buck against his face.

  Mr. Thompson holds me by the ass cheeks and squeezes them tight, pulling me in closer against his mouth. His saliva dribbles from my pussy, down the line of my crack and around my asshole.

  I grab the front tuft of his hair and run my fingers through it, holding his face against my pussy while rocking my hips in a circular motion.

  "Cammy... you--you taste so sweet..." He says when he finally comes up for air, wiping the wet sheen of my fluids from around his lips. Then he dives himself between my legs again and thrusts his tongue into my entrance.

  The tip of it curls inside me, stimulating my insides. My chest arches on the couch; my ribcage protrudes above the soft slope of my belly. I clutch my round breasts and shove them together, biting my lip and enjoying the immense pleasure.

  A current of electricity is building in my core, flowing up my spinal cord. I wrap my legs around his head and push him deeper with my calves.

  His tongue swirls inside me, lapping up my wet fluids as they gush from me, spilling over his bottom lip. My toes curl in the air while I'm squeezing tight around his neck. I want him to go deeper...

  "Mr. Thompson... I want you--I need you inside me." He pauses, looking up at me with his head between my legs. Then he pulls away, apparently nervous. He stares at me, studying me.

  The consequences of getting me knocked up flashes before his eyes. The potential risk is there. Still, he's gone too far with me to just stop now...

  He breaks himself free from the grip of my legs and lifts his shirt, maintaining eye contact with me. Then his hand moves to the buckle of his jeans. He is committed now. The temptation of sticking his cock inside me is too much for him to resist. I could see by the lust in his eyes that his curiosity was beginning to override any the fears about getting me pregnant.

  Mr. Thompson tugs down on his jeans and briefs, and his erect cock springs out of them. When he's got them all the way off, he gets himself between legs and I gasp when I feel his cock spreading my labia. I can feel his racing heartbeat in the quick pulse of his throbbing cock.

  I stick a stick a straight index finger at the corner of my mouth, saying, "Do it! Fuck me Mr. Thompson!" His shaft slips in my wetness, gliding between my folds. My thick fluids coat the length of his shaft.

  "A--Are you sure?" His expression is one of apprehension. All he needs is a little bit more encouragement...

  I grab the head of his cock between thumb and forefinger and guide it to my entrance. I bite down on my bottom lip, grinning slightly through my teeth. I feel the tight walls of my entrance giving way to his enormous cock.

  Then it slips in the wetness of my insides and my legs twitch in the air. The walls of my entrance wrap tight around the neck, compressing the entire head as I pull him in deeper with my other hand on his ass.

  "Ungh!" I yell, bucking my hips to the sensation of his cock entering me. My tightness grips around his thick shaft as he pushes in deeper with a certain hesitation. "Push!" I command, grabbing him by the hips and pulling him in closer.

  Mr. Thompson squints hard; his jaw drops. "Fuck! You're so tight, Cammy..." He grabs hold of my tits and gives them a squeeze. I giggle and tense the muscles of my core to make my pussy even tighter for him. He groans and squeezes my tits harder.

  Then his head drops to my chest when the head of his cock taps my cervix. His balls tap against my puckered asshole and my legs spasm at the hips--it hurts just a little bit. The pain quickly subsides in the euphoria of his enormous cock filling me whole.

  "There we go..." I say, giggling at him and patting the back of his head resting on my chest. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

  I rotate my hips, working the length of his cock like an expert whore. My walls clench tight around him, squeezing and compressing the whole of his stiff dick.

  A bit of his precum dribbles out from me when he pulls out all the way to the tip. Then he pushes himself in balls deep me with a fierce thrust, clutching my tits and moaning loud.

  Again and again, Mr. Thompson continues to drill me as I buck my ass against him. Beads of sweat drip from his forehead and roll in the crevice of my sternum. He huffs and groans, keeping his face scrunched in concentration. He must be using a whole lot of it to keep himself from cumming like this.

  "I want you to cum inside me..." I say, staring up at him as my body jerks back and forth on the couch with each impaling thrust. Mr. Thompson shakes his head. He is still afraid. "It will be okay, I promise," I tell him bringing my hands around to his clenched ass to assist his thrusting.

  "But what if you get--" He says, shaking his head again.

  "Don't worry. I want you to. Cum inside me... please!" I moan loud for him. His face begins to relax; he lets out a long, hoarse moan.

  "Fuck--Cammy--I'm... cumming..." My whole body shudders when his warm spunk filling my uterus. An explosion of euphoric tingles bursts from the depths of my core, spreading out to every extremity.

  Again and again, his cock pulses and squirts more of his seed into me. My hips gyrate in the air, milking every drop of cum while our bodies writhe together.

  My back arches and the muscles of my core convulse sporadically. The orgasmic energy washes over me, making my mind go numb with ecstasy. Mr. Thompson wails. His legs quake beneath him and his
pelvis jitters.

  His thick load fills my insides, seeping out from me and dribbling down my crack. His body jostles on top of me while my walls squeeze tight around the whole of his dick, holding him there relentlessly until every ounce of sperm has been extracted.

  When the tremors in my limbs begin to fade, he collapses his full weight onto me. A wide grin spreads across my face as I pet the back of his hair, holding him to my bare chest glistening in the sheen of our sweat. I had succeeded in getting Mr. Thompson to impregnate me.

  After all, I haven't taken any birth control for weeks and I am in my most fertile period right now. I set it up that way just for him. Thanks to me, Mr. Thompson has found his motivation.

  AS A BONUS, PLEASE ENJOY THIS LEWD AND INDECENT STORY TOLD FROM THE MALE PERSPECTIVE!

  STUFFED FULL

  CHAPTER ONE

  The heat emanating from the glass pane of the oven is causing my eyes to water. I hunch over to get a better look inside, tapping my foot impatiently against white tile. Dawn light fills the kitchen.

  My Bonnie Proper snickerdoodles will soon rise with the sun.

  My back is getting sore. Did I set the timer right? I place a hand on my lower back to massage away the aching pain. Growing up, I never did learn how to bake, or even cook.

  The microwave beeps again to let me know the frozen breakfast burrito is done, but I ignore it. Did I set the oven temperature correct?

  I turn to grab the ripped plastic packaging from the top of an overflowing rubbish can and check the instructions again.

  I jerk my head when I notice my roommate Curtis entering the kitchen. Curtis never took out the god damn trash. He acknowledges me with a couple slow nods and squeezes himself between the trash and the fridge, knocking a blackened banana peel to the floor with his bare knee.

  He opens the door of the microwave. The rotating platter inside is stained by globs of hardened tomato sauce, the walls encrusted with yellow and orange cheese.

  "Dude, your burrito is… well, now it's cold."

  Curtis reaches for the nearest plate, shooing away the few roaches that are snacking on bits of crumb left from yesterday's breakfast.

  He rinses the plate under the trickle of our low pressure facet and wipes it dry against his boxer shorts.

  He tosses the burrito onto the plate and slides it across the counter until it collides with a row of tall glass cups along the sink's rim. None of the cups have been washed in weeks.

  Curtis never did the god damn dishes.

  He grabs the only frying pan in the apartment from the sink and brushes the metal center where the enamel is flaking off. He places it atop the stove and reaches a hand to test the warmth of the oven.

  "Doesn't the packaging on those say 350?" He’s right.

  "Pretty sure it's 325," I lie, "Are you gonna take the trash out?"

  "I fucked Chrissy last night."

  The door closest to the kitchen opens gently. My ex-girlfriend Chrissy emerges from Curtis's room wearing a pit stained Spider-Man tee that came down to her thighs, and nothing else.

  She tiptoes toward the bathroom pretending to go unnoticed.

  "But you're cool with it, right bro?"

  Curtis jabs his fist hard against my shoulder. The truth is I hadn't slept. The rhythmic banging of a headboard against the thin wall that separated our rooms had me up baking early.

  Baking always helped calm the nerves.

  The slapping sounds of skin against skin, the moaning and grunting from that room, it all became like a symphonic accompaniment to my morning routine.

  "Huh, I never even heard you guys," I shrug. The walls in our apartment were so thin I could’ve heard the friction of jeans if they’d been dry humping.

  “We’ll hit up the old folks home today, make another batch after.” Fuck you Curtis. And I would have said it to his face if he wasn’t the one with the truck. A source of transportation was all he was good for.

  We would be taking the cookie batches down to the retirement home’s bake sale that happened on Sundays. The ones from packaged dough always sold best, so long as we told people they were a home recipe.

  Then all we had to do was pretend the money was going to some charity for impoverished children, or something. One package would sell for over fifty times what we paid, and old people love their fucking cookies.

  Curtis keeps turning the knob to set the gas stove, but it doesn’t ignite.

  "Fuck this, I’m just gonna grab something at Mickey’s.” He glances at the red light coming from the oven, then over to Chrissy who is scurrying back into his room.

  “After I hit up that ass again first!” he says with the kind of grin I just want to smack off his face. He follows in after, slapping her on the ass while simultaneously kicking the door shut. There is a scream followed by laughter.

  I start on a batch of oatmeal raisin.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The three of us were sitting outside at a Mickey’s plastic picnic table with uncomfortable seats, not really saying much.

  A red and yellow striped umbrella above the center of the table is giving shade to Curtis and Chrissy while they share a quesadilla, and I can feel the heat from the sun on my back making me irritable.

  I’m just siting here staring while they make out, waiting for them to finish their fucking quesadilla.

  “You can finish that, I think we’re done.”

  I got up to take a piss instead.

  They had to put out two portable restroom stalls on the other side of the Mickey’s building because teenagers were always flooding the indoor bathrooms.

  I get inside one of them and try to avoid breathing the stench. I see that door lock is broken, but I probably wouldn’t have bothered anyway. I unzip my pants and start to take a leak. The swinging door behind me is flung open as I am still midstream.

  I feel a splash of urine on my hands as I swing my torso around, startled.

  “Fuck off, I’m in he—” I freeze when I see Chrissy.

  “Are you sure you want me to fuck off?” She giggles a little. “Or maybe you just want me to… fuck?” Turning around the rest of the way, I am still holding my junk. “I’m glad you started already, because you’ll have to be quick,” she says.

  “What about Curtis? I thought you two were…” I don’t really give a shit about Curtis, but it would feel strange not to mention it first. Some piss is dripping between the fingers cupping my balls.

  Chrissy gets down on her bare knees. The plastic floor is wet with dark pools of piss and crud. The stench is absolutely foul, but Chrissy seems unfazed.

  She grabs the hands around my balls and guides them gently until my palms are clutching the back of her long, bleach blond ponytail.

  She pulls down the front of her tight, red and white polka dot shirt and begins rubbing my cock between her gorgeously rounded breasts. She was the only girlfriend I’d had with D cup tits, and I suddenly remember how much I loved fucking them.

  I am already hard before her lips are around the tip of my cock. Looking up at me, she smiles and licks around the head. I close my eyes and feel her tongue wrap around the head and work its way down to the shaft.

  She makes a sucking sound and slides back up the shaft with her lips. I can hear here take in a deep breath, and then…

  “Push,” she says, pressing her hands against the back of mine until they are firmly grasping the back of her head.

  So I push, hard.

  Her throat slips down along my cock until I can feel her tongue lapping against my ball sack. Her nose is pressing against my abdomen.

  Thick saliva is dripping from my balls as she gags. I don’t think she can possibly go any deeper.

  “Ungh,” I moan. I am ready to explode in her mouth. I feel myself gripping her head tighter and pushing harder the more she gags.

  I push as far as she can go. She grabs the back of my ass with her hands and pulls me in closer. I had never been this deep in her. I am going to cum faster than I ever had wi
th her.

  But she lets go of my ass and pulls back with her neck, slipping her throat back up the shaft until her mouth is off of me. A long, thick string of saliva is still connecting her lips and the base of my cock.

  She flashes a devious smile as the string of spit dribbles between her breasts. She licks all around her lips and begins sucking on an index finger manicured with glittery red polish.

  She moans a little, then makes a pouty frown like a puppy dog.