Bimbo Code Series Bundle

by Jen Eastwood

  She took a seat, crossing her legs before I could even get next to her. “I want to, but I don't.”

  “What's that supposed to mean.”

  Monica drifted her fingers down my forearm. “Just fuck me and get it over with. I'll push you into traffic later.”

  “I'm not sure. I could just send you home to Randall.”

  Her face went dark, the hand on my arm balling into a fist. “You bastard.”

  She's fun, in her own bitchy way. “I don't think you want it. Hell, you're just sitting there, fuming about it.”

  I watched her arm shake, trying its damnedest to move against bonds even I couldn't see. Monica huffed and stared me down. “How did you do this to me?”

  “It's a gift.”

  “I'm not joking.”

  I started to lie back when her arm finally moved. She had stopped me from going horizontal with one hand between my shoulder blades. A quick burst of will shot out as I said, “Prove you want it.”

  She whipped around me, straddling my lap. “You've lost your mind if you think I'll act like I enjoy it.”

  Monica tore at my shirt. The way she clenched her mouth and lowered her eyebrows said it all. I flipped the dress and bra straps off her left shoulder and said, “You'll be wrong again. Show me why Randall's so lucky.”

  “Fuck you.”

  I think I'll leave that part of her around. I haven't had a good hate-fuck in a long time. Monica got down to my last button, mouth agape at the six pack Patrem Delta had gifted me with. Moving right on to my slacks, it was like she was fighting the fabric itself.

  I almost wanted it too much. Finally lying back, I stuck my hand out and curled my index finger at Monica. She walked on her knees, one on both sides of my torso. I stopped her once I smelt the perfume between her legs, light and sweet like a cantaloupe.

  “Turn around.” Monica obeyed, finally giving me a view of that ass molded from perfection. I slid her panties aside. Holy hell.

  Diving right in, I wrapped my hands around her thighs. She pushed against and rubbed my pecs, gasping every time I slid against her clit. The pure smoothness against my face was hot, like Monica had a fever well above safe limits.

  I moved my hands to her ass, feeling her shift and heave as the whimpering grew louder. She danced and ground on my mouth, finally leaning forward with the first shout she dared to let fly.

  Monica leaned forward. I felt a hand slip my pants and boxers down. Fingers choked against my shaft, rising up and down in rhythm with the shifts of her body.

  The soft feel of her hair against my cock soon changed to the warmth of her breath. The jerking motion got faster as the air around my package got hotter.

  I gave her ass a firm grip, squeezing as I heard a quick scream. Monica took me into her mouth without warning, taking in half my length in one smooth motion. I toyed with her folds, moving them around in my lips as her tongue ground against the topside of my dick.

  Keeping up the pace on my end, Monica took me deeper with every bow of her head. One hard lash at her pearl forced her to let a hand take over, mewling at my waist as her thighs tensed against my ears.

  She took over, using hand and mouth, taking the entirety of my length and wrapping it in heat that put me in danger of boiling over. I felt her back out slowly before bobbing up and down again, her breasts heaving up and down between my chest and abs.

  Lips danced against my tip before one final suck of hard vacuum. I dipped one finger inside her. Monica took me deep one last time before pulling that delightful pussy away.

  Monica crawled forward like a slave. The wet shine of her pussy wiggled through the hem of her dress. As her hips moved above mine, I gave her ass another quick slap.

  She flipped her heels off and rose up, planting her feet on each side of me. Her hand cradled my shaft again. The heat between her legs drew closer to my tip.

  Monica pulled her panties all the way to the side. She didn't hesitate in pushing my spear against her opening. I felt the delicious wetness take me in halfway.

  Her head rocked back as she gripped one of my thighs, then pulled it back to drop that tiny, black dress down to her waist. I put two fingers between her shoulder blades, popping the bra hooks loose. The purple lace fell onto my knees.

  Dainty hands planted against my abs as Monica leaned back. She moved her shoulders forward, her hips back, taking me in the rest of the way. Her ass rocked back and forth, teasing me with everything she had at the very start.

  I urged her on, both of my hands on her ass again, nudging her to go faster. The noise rose in her throat as she hit the accelerator. Her cunt ground against me, my cock filling her completely. Between gasps of pleasure she let out, “Fuck, this is what I wanted!”

  Her hands moved further up my chest as Monica started bouncing, hard. I closed my eyes, moving my grip up to her waist. Her yelps went louder, shorter, and up and octave.

  She almost came before stopping and turning her head to look back at me. Her fingers played with my sack, then moved up to her clit. The rhythm in her hips came back as she gave me an uneven grin.

  The little bitch is good. Monica wanted me to know she hated me almost as much as she loved my cock inside her. The last drop down to the hilt had intention behind it.

  Monica leaned forward, gripping my shins and letting her hips do the work. I loved the way her ass bobbed back and forth. She started moving side to side, getting my nuts to fizz like a shaken beer.

  Just watching my cock disappear inside her, topped by that bountiful yet tight ass almost had me in love. She started twerking it, gushing her juices around my skin as her inner walls held onto me like a glove. I let her keep going, feeling her thighs and pussy tense up.

  “Fuck yes,” she screamed, “I'm so close!”

  I put my hands on sides of her thighs, forcing her to keep going faster and harder. I gritted my teeth and fought to keep myself under control. Monica kept getting wetter, hotter, and louder.

  “Holy shit!” She ripped her head up, grinding myself into her. Her fingernails glanced my sack as she rubbed her clit. I hoped like hell the walls weren't as paper thin as my old place.

  Monica seized up, her scream turning into an orgasmic moan. Her walls pulsed and then constricted around me. The entirety of her body shivered as her hips jerked forward a few times.

  I rolled over and cupped a breast as she fell to the left, my staff still anchored deep inside her quivering slit. Her legs went parallel to mine as I helped pull the dress back up and over her head.

  She eased me out of her, staying on her side. The exhaustion took hold of Monica, forcing me to help slide the panties down her legs. I leaned over for a look, seeing that perfectly trim, barely-there racing stripe I hadn't even felt with my chin earlier.

  The poor girl struggled to catch her breath, both of us on our sides. Her breasts flushed with color as I got back in position behind her and moved a lock of hair out of her face. Monica caught the tip of my thumb with her teeth, giving it a slow sucking motion that almost made me come on the spot again.

  I grabbed the base of my shaft, rubbing the head along her valley. Monica reached back, cradling my jaw and the stubble I'd built up since that morning. I pushed back inside her, enticing Monica into a slow moan that grew louder with every inch.

  The rhythm of my body started to match hers. Monica's hips shifted back every thrust, forward with every pull back. I grabbed her right leg behind the knee, forcing her to spread wider.

  As she lied back, hips sideways and shoulders down, I cupped a breast and took a mouthful. Her hand never left the back of my head, urging me to keep pounding and sucking. She nuzzled her face against mine, open mouth gasping every time I made a drive toward home.

  Her voice suddenly crackled with volume, going up in pitch as I slung myself into her harder and faster. Her breasts got red and her nipples felt hard enough to break concrete. The pop of our bodies colliding and the echo of her own voice filled the room, high ceilings and all.


  I started to grunt, allowing myself to go with it. Precome dribbling out of my tip, slicking up her tunnel like a fresh squirt of lube. My shaft tensed up. I was about to come, but I had some fun at Monica's expense planned.

  Thrusting harder but slower, my voice went deeper with every breath. I pulled away from that lovely pillow of a breast, making sure I could watch. The side of her face was buried in the upholstery, yelping with every bone-jarring push inside her.

  Monica finally turned her head, between whimpers getting out, “If you come inside me,” I drove hard to prove a point, “I'll fucking kill you.”

  I grinned and kept plowing into her, forcing her eyes shut. I paused to ask, “Do you really think I would?”

  “I know you want to.”

  And who wouldn't? I stopped and pulled out of her. “Get up.” I knew Monica still had enough willpower to stop me, and I wanted it that way.

  She rose first, looking back at me with a crosswise glance. Fully nude and standing before me, she really was a damn goddess in the flesh. Fuck, I want to come back to her a year later.

  I watched her start toward the kitchen island, the s-curve of her torso twisting, that ass rising on one side with each step. Randall really had hit the jackpot with this one.

  Pulling my pants down as I got up, they flew off my legs along with my shoes and socks. I had pulled my shirt off by the time my ass left the day bed. Monica was already in the kitchen, the open-concept letting me get a full view of her as she leaned against leather and metal a bar stool.

  Monica twirled around, resting her ass and hands against the counter top, smiling like a devil. As soon as we got within reach of each other, both of us put a hand on the back of the others' neck. She leaned in, pressing her lips against mine as my cock prodded at the stripe of hair between her legs.

  Fingers wrapped around my staff again. She twisted her arm and rand her closed hand down my shaft, lingering at the base to tease my balls with her fingers. I let my free hand rub her breasts, her tongue slipping into my mouth.

  I made a gradual pinch of a nipple, increasing the pressure until her face back away from mine. I let go when she turned around, her eyes never opening. Monica leaned against the blonde wood of the counter, her legs straight and vertical.

  Her right leg went up, knee and foot resting on top, the left leg still standing against the floor. I pressed my dick into her entrance and shoved right in, pounding away like we hadn't skipped a beat. Monica grabbed her ass on the right side, bobbing in pace with my own body as she reached back for a fistful of my hair.

  I shut my eyes as her voice got louder. I worked my whole body like a single band of muscle, crashing my tip against the inside limits of her passage. I had, tops, a few minutes left before I'd explode.

  Monica had her way of screaming in a way that cheered my on. Her thighs clenched as her ass tensed, giving me the perfect place to plant a hand. I ripped myself in and out like I was trying to hurt her, just pushing her even closer to another peak.

  She erupted all at once, pushing her forehead against the counter and seething through her teeth. She had locked around me, hard. The way her walls milked at my dick begged me to come without saying a word.

  I let her ride it out, catching my own breath. Is this the right? She gets what she wants with Randall, and I get paid.

  Pulling out, I let her gather her senses. She finally rose and turned around. “Christ, I haven't come that hard in months.” Her cheeks faded to a normal amount of blush as Monica rested herself on a bar stool.

  I watched her scoot forward, spread her legs, and then lean back, arms resting against the island behind her.

  The invitation wasn't one I'd ever pass up. I gave my shaft a quick spit-polish and plunged back in. Monica's legs wrapped around the small of my back, drawing me in to the hilt. I rested there for a moment, wondering if her climax had bought me time, or if it just brought me closer.

  Monica's eyes rolled back in her head as I pulled out and pushed back in. Her lips parted just a little and she let out a sultry, “Fuck, yes.”

  I gave her another round, slow and deliberate. She writhed in place, letting me know she felt every fraction of an inch creep along her passage. I cupped her jaw with my fingers and asked, “You know how this will end, right?”

  “You know I can't let you do that.” She got another lingering push. “No matter how much you want it.”

  Fuck this. I reared back hard, then forward with enough force to jar her back a few inches. You're not just a cock-tease, you're a damn come-tease.

  “You can come anywhere you want, just not inside me.”

  Ego sum alpha. “You'll let me.” Et genua parere.

  “But—,” I interrupted her with a fast jam of my shaft, “I said you can't.”

  I paused and grinned like a kid up to no good. “You did, didn't you?”

  That's when a shred of Monica's normal self broke through. A twinge of panic in her jade eyes grew into fear as I got close. And splitting her like firewood would end in that great fear of all women fucking around on her man: The baby wouldn't be his.

  Myself? I couldn't have cared less. I pushed myself between her walls, feeling them tighten as I rubbed her clit with my thumb. Monica's head bobbed in motion with what I was doing to her, every breath coming out more ragged than the last.

  Her legs flexed and kept me from pulling out more than halfway. I replaced power with speed. The surplus of wetness threatened to gush out of her, giving me just enough friction to feel it.

  Every vessel in my cock felt like they were about to burst. My trunk felt hollow other than the tightening of my family jewels. Even the room around me seemed to disappear, only myself and Monica's dripping, ready cunt filling my universe.

  I shot a thick rope of come, deep inside her. Monica's jaw dropped, trying to speak through the first breakers of climax. Her arms pushed against me with the second, trying her hardest to keep the damage to a minimum. If only her body worked that way.

  Focusing my thoughts and projecting them always puts a strain on me, but damn this one was tough. I let the next few shots fly and felt the front of my brain go hollow. You want this more than anything. You know I deserve it.

  I almost gave out as she unwrapped her legs from around my back. I fought to keep standing up as Monica slid a finger down to inspect what I'd left behind. She felt the raw volume both leaking out and sticking inside, knowing she had served me well.

  The weird thing about being a glorified breeding bull, is that you just know when you did the job. By this point, Patrem Delta had made me as potent as putting an entire packet of seeds in a flowerpot, then watering daily. I took as step back and admired my handiwork seeping from that cozy little slit. God, Monica's a nice fucking specimen, too.

  She finally looked back up at me, fighting between a frown and a smile. I knew she loved the feeling, living up to her body's ultimate purpose. “You're an ass.” Emphasis on 'ass.'

  “Don't worry,” I focused on her again, having regained some of my strength, “if Randall ever wants a second kid, you know who to call.”

  “Fucker.” She slid off of the bar stool and marched for her clothes. “I can't fucking believe I let you do that.”

  I wasn't far behind her. Reaching for my boxers and then slipping them on, I asked, “But you wanted it.”

  Monica was already reaching behind herself, clasping her bra. “The thing I still don't understand is why I did it.”

  “That doesn't matter.”

  She leaned to one side, arms crossed. “Why is that?”

  “I'll tell you what.” I paused to pick up what little of a black dress there was in the first place, then tossed it to her. “Have Randall take you out somewhere nice this weekend. In fact, give him the fuck of his life when he does.” I didn't need to tell her that, because any girl like Monica knows how to milk a sugar daddy for all she can.

  “Gladly.”

  “Oh,” I snuck one last peek of that amazing figure before the dr
ess slid back on her. “We never met.”

  It never hurts to cover your ass, especially in my line of work.

  BIMBO CODE 4:

  RESCUED KEEPER

  My sixth Prime Recipient of the week moaned as I pulled out. By this point, I had cleared more money in the bank than I had made in the past four years of working my old office job. Not bad for a month of being GeneFactor's test subject.

  I had figured nailing a redhead would spice things up a bit, but it just felt pointless. Five grand heading to the bank. At least she looked satisfied.

  “Something wrong?”

  I shook my head and crashed next to her. Staring up at the ceiling, I put an arm around her and said, “It's fine.”

  “You're acting like you didn't have fun.”

  I went limp and huffed into the air. “Listen Trish, you need to get running.”

  “I was that bad I guess.”

  The hell with it. “You were great.” I looked at her face, cute as could be, and then focused. Leave, and forget this ever happened.

  She was dressed and heading for the door within a minute. I rolled over and grabbed my phone. Three of the girls I'd kept in contact with wanted to come over that night, but I needed a break. I tapped out 'check with me later in the week, sorry' and sent it to all three.

  It started to feel meaningless. Twenty-one women in the past thirty days, some more than once just for the fun of it. But now, it actually felt like a job.

  I should have been having the time of my life. Living the kind of fantasy every straight guy dreamed of should have felt more special. At least, I expected to feel like it wasn't routine after years, much less a single month.

  I had taken up a habit of trawling new places for perfect-tens. This time I'd gone away from downtown, heading for a place that would have made my wallet cry for mercy before all of this started. When hunting Prime Recipients, I followed the money, but I wanted to treat myself to some good food more than anything.

  Portage Tavern was a known place for people who could drop the average car payment on a meal, and as soon as I pulled into the parking lot, I knew it was full of rich bastards and their arm candy. The low-end of the car line-up consisted of BMW, Mercedes, and Audi. The closer spaces for reservations was a lineup of fantasy cars. After all, the kind of man who drove a sparkling new Ferrari tended to have a Ferrari of a wife, and a mistress who was even more exotic.