by Freya Kane
Parker leaned back a bit, his thrusts slow and measured as I clung to the edge of the bar with a white knuckled death grip. "I love this pussy so much," Parker moaned. "So tight and always so wet for me. Look down, Jayne. You're soaked to your knees."
I glanced down. He was right. A second orgasm took me by surprise and my knees buckled and Parker’s cock slipped out of me. He grabbed me around the waist and spun me around, bending me over the bar just like he had the very first time. An instant later I felt the head of his cock butt up against my hole before sliding inside.
“I’m glad we never used protection,” he purred, his thrusts getting faster and more erratic. “I can’t imagine coming inside of a rubber instead of this hot little pussy.”
“Yes,” I sobbed, my voice broken and blown out by pleasure. “Yes, give me your come, Parker!”
Parker’s hips snapped forward, and I felt the rush of heat inside me as he filled my pussy with his hot come. His hand slipped down my front, parting my lips to find the swollen button of my clit while he was still shaking with his own aftershocks.
It only took a few quick rubs before I was squeezing his cock with my third orgasm, the edges of my vision getting dark from the overload of pleasure.
We both slumped down on the bar floor, glad that we had already mopped up for the evening.
***
Eight months later, and I was still hopping around the bar in shorts and a tank top, serving drinks and smiles to our regulars. Only now it looked like I was smuggling a beach ball under my shirt.
Surprisingly enough, my tips had actually increased since I started showing. I guess the farmers and the truckers had a soft spot for a country girl with a big belly.
The last one of our regulars headed out, slipping me an extra $5 “for the little one.” I locked up the door behind him and sat down on a chair, grateful to finally have a rest. But then I looked up and saw Parker staring at me hungrily from behind the bar and I forgot all about being tired.
I peeled off my tank top. I still stuck to plain black tanks at work, but I'd started stealing Parker's because the skimpy little tops I'd worn before couldn't even start to contain my breasts. Free from their cotton prison, my large breasts tumbled free, round and aching to be touched. Between my legs, the wetness was already starting to grow in anticipation of what I knew was coming.
Parker knelt down on the floor between my legs, not caring about the spilled beer and road dust covering the unmopped floors. He wrapped his lips around one hard nipple and started sucking. I was already wet, but I felt my pussy flood my panties as Parker drew my milk out of me. I still wasn’t entirely used to the new sensation, but I loved the way it felt.
Parker had unzipped my shorts and pushed his fingers inside them. My position kept him from being able to move his hand much, but I was so horny all the time and it didn’t take much for me to get me begging.
Parker's finger parted my lower lips, spreading my slick juices around and rubbing a circle around my sensitive clit, being careful to not actually touch the little bundle of nerves. He switched to my other breast and my hips rocked upwards, trying to get the friction I needed.
Parker denied me though. His lips and tongue worked at my nipple, drawing my sweet milk into his mouth while keeping me on edge.
“Please Parker,” I begged. “Please make me come. I can’t take much more.”
Parker kept rubbing, getting a tiny bit closer to touching my clit with every second that passed. My panties were drenched, and the acid-washed denim of my shorts was starting to show a wet spot on the crotch.
Finally when I was close to going crazy with the desperate need to come Parker pressed his fingers against my clit. I reared up, bucking my hips against his hands as I rocketed into orgasm, my pussy shuddering in pleasure under Parker’s talented fingers.
A moment later, Parker stood up and I heard the sound of his zipper going down.
“Fuck, stay just like that,” he ordered, taking his cock in his hand. Sitting on one of the hard wooden bar chairs naked from the waist up with my milk-filled tits and big pregnant belly on display and my legs spread to show that my pussy was so wet it had soaked through my shorts, I knew what Parker wanted.
Parker had been hard since long before he’d touched me, and he didn’t intend to hold back this time. He started to jack his cock furiously, and it didn’t take long for the first stripe of come to land across my belly. I moaned as Parker painted me with come, leaving streaks across my breasts and belly. I opened my mouth and the last jet of come landed across my cheek, dripping down to cover my lips.
Big as a house and covered in come, I’d never felt sexier in my life!
***
Parker and I had long since given up trying to hide our relationship, and I even had a pretty gold ring sparkling on my finger. I wasn’t much for diamonds, and on a bartender’s salary I wasn’t likely to end up with a big rock anyway, but I’d shown up for my shift to find Parker on one knee with Mama standing nearby with happy tears in her eyes.
It may have started off with a quick screw behind the bar, but instead, we had ended up an actual family!
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FREE BONUS STORY
Taken By The Priest
by
Freya Kane
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.
I was a good girl.
I had always been a good girl.
Until one day, I wasn’t.
***
The church was empty and the air inside was cool. The dark wood door of the confessional stood just a few feet away, inviting me in. Inside that tiny wooden room, the air was warm and still. I could see the form of Father Collins through the divider and my breath caught at the sight of the handsome young priest.
"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been two weeks since my last confession."
“Tell me your sins, child.”
I was just eighteen, but I bristled briefly at being called child before beginning. “I lied to my parents about where I was going last night. I told them I was going to the movies with friends, but I went to my boyfriend’s house instead. His parents are out of town, so we had a chance to be alone. I’ve always been dedicated to saving myself for marriage, but I love Eric so much, and he wanted to touch me so badly.
“I told him that I came into his house a virgin, and I would leave the same way, but what we did doesn’t really count as sex, right?” I sounded unconvinced even to my own ears.
“I can’t judge the level of your sin without more details. Continue.”
Obediently, I did. “At first it was just kissing, but he kept putting his hands under my skirt. At first I kept my legs closed but he just kept kissing me and I started to relax,” I shifted in my seat, the memories flooding back and bringing the feelings of shame and arousal with them.
"He put his hand inside my panties and then he kissed my neck and said, ‘I can feel how much you want this.' He started touching me, and it just felt so good that I let him. He pressed two of his fingers inside of me and started pumping them in and out. I could feel this pressure building up inside my body like a volcano and he just kept rubbing me until I started shaking. ‘I'm going to make you come,' he said. He pushed his fingers deep inside of me, and I came on the couch in his living room, my skirt around my waist and my legs spread open for anyone to see.<
br />
"He took his fingers out of me and I heard the zipper of his pants go down. I'd never seen a man naked before, but there he was. It was hard and red, and he took my hand and said, ‘Stroke it. I made you feel good.' So I did. I slid my hand up and down, and when he tangled his fingers in my hair and pushed my head down, I opened my mouth and let him put it inside. I bobbed my head up and down and in a few seconds, I tasted salt as he finished in my mouth.
“I can still taste it,” I finished. My face was bright with embarrassment as I realized just how explicit I had gotten in front of a priest. “I want to be good. I want to be pure. I made a mistake. I just want to be forgiven so I can start anew,” I whispered, keeping my eyes focused on my folded hands.
“How can someone who lets herself be used like a whore ever be pure?” The words were soft, but I heard the venom in every syllable.
I look up to stare into his dark eyes, piercing me through the screen. “I want to be forgiven,” I repeat.
“Don’t we all. You’ll need quite the act of contrition to earn forgiveness for this. Are you prepared to submit to the will of God?” His voice was cold as iron. Saying no was unthinkable.
“Yes.”
He pushed aside the flimsy barrier that hung between us and pulled me down onto his lap. I could feel the evidence of his lust pressing between my thighs. I had come right from Eric’s house to the church, so the crotch of my panties was still damp from earlier. Retelling the story had awakened my senses again, and the priest’s rough handling had me dripping with want.
The thin white cotton ripped easily and he tossed it aside. “Golden hair above and below,” he said, tracing his finger down the length of my slit. “You really are a filthy slut aren’t you? Lusting after a man of the cloth, after all.”
Without giving any warning he shoved three fingers inside of me. I groaned, the feeling of fullness almost too much to bear. He drove his fingers in and out of me pushing me closer and closer to orgasm, but pulling back each time before the waves of release could crash over me.
“I want to hear you beg,” he ordered. “Beg me to fuck your virgin pussy.”
“Please,” I stammered, “Fuck my virgin p-pussy.”
“Please, Father Collins.”
“Please, Father Collins,” I begged, my thighs clenching around his hand, every muscle in my body straining towards that moment of pleasure that was worth the sin.
Being a good Catholic girl, I wasn’t using any kind of birth control, and the thought that he might get me pregnant terrified and aroused me, making me feel even more debauched.
My body protested when he pulled his fingers from me to unzip his black pants. His cock jutted out of the opening of his pants, longer and thicker than Eric’s and I wondered how it would fit inside me. Father Collins pulled me down onto his lap and I felt the head press into my pussy.
“This will hurt,” he said, “But we all must suffer for our sins.” He sheathed himself fully inside me and I cried out at the sharp spike of pain the first thrust brought. Father Collins held still, but I knew better than to mistake it for compassion. His perfect white teeth were clenched with the effort to allow me that moment to adjust. Just a moment and then his hands went to my hips, lifting me up and pressing me against the wall of the confessional.
His hips rammed forward and with each thrust, the pain lessened. The inferno was building in me again, and each thrust of his hips rubbed his shaft against my clit. I dug my fingers into his shoulders, feeling hard muscles under the thick black fabric.
“Don’t come.” The words were whispered in my ear and I almost sobbed, but I obeyed, clenching my thighs against the tremors that were so close to the surface. A few more thrusts and he plunged deep into me. I felt the pulse of his cock as he emptied himself into me. He leaned against me for a moment, gasping for breath, before pulling out.
Father Collins tucked his cock back into his pants and looked at me. My blonde hair was wild and sweaty. My face was flushed and my skirt may have slipped back down but we both knew that my thighs were stained with semen and my own juices.
“Make yourself presentable, and bring yourself into my office.”
Without looking back he strode away through the empty church, leaving me standing in the darkened confessional, breathing the mingled scents of incense and sex.
***
The door to his office was dark wood, ornately carved with vines that looked more like snakes in the dim light. I knocked tentatively.
“Enter.”
I expected the room to look like a dungeon but instead, it was more dark oak. Endless amounts of books lined the shelves against the walls. An earth-brown leather chair beside the unlit fireplace was the only piece of furniture in the room apart from a heavy wood desk and the matching chair he sat on.
His gaze bored through me, digging down into my soul and showing him every filthy thought that had crossed my mind. He was a priest and he had fucked me in every sense of the word, so I knew he was no innocent, but his presence made me want only to kneel at his feet and do whatever he asked to atone.
“I think,” he began without preamble, “an Our Father would be a good place to start.” Father Collins rose from the chair in one fluid motion and took my hand. He lead me to the desk and placed both my hands flat on the cool wood surface. The unspoken order of Keep them there did not escape me.
His hands caressed my ass and pushed up my skirt, bunching it around my waist. “Begin. And Bridget? I want it in Latin.”
Slowly I began the prayer, thankful this was one I could recite in my sleep. “Pater noster qui es in-” my voice cut off with a yelp as a sharp line of pain cut across the top of my thighs. I looked over my shoulder and saw the sturdy wooden ruler in his hand.
“Continue,” his tone left no more room for further hesitation.
“-in coelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum-”
Another sharp smack across my left thigh.
“-adveniat regmun tuum-”
Over to my right thigh.
“fiat voluntas tua, sicut in coleo et in terra.”
Two quick slashes across the middle of my ass.
“Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie-”
I couldn’t hold back a whimper as the ruler slapped the fleshy curve of my ass.
“-et dimitte nobis debita nostra, sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris.”
I tried to finish the prayer more quickly but my voice faltered and I stumbled over the words. I had no doubt he would make me start again if I made mistakes so I forced myself to slow down as the blows fell like rain across my body.
“Et ne nos inducas in tentationem sed libera nos a malo.”
The ruler slid between my thighs slapped upwards, stinging across my slick pussy as I finished the last word, “Amen!”
“That was very good.” I turned around to see him unfastening the buttons on his shirt and removing his collar. “Excellent pronunciation.” He dropped the shirt onto the ground and I was able to finally see his body.
Father Collins had a body that would have been wasted on any other priest. His chest looked like it was carved out of tanned marble, and perfect six pack abs were bisected by a line of golden hair that disappeared into his black pants. His hand cupped the swollen bulge that strained the zipper and he slowly stroked himself.
“Such a lustful little whore,” he said, inching the zipper down. He freed his cock and then continued that slow stroke. “There’s nothing you wouldn’t let me do to you right now, is there?” I shook my head, not trusting my voice. “No hole in your body where you wouldn’t let me put this. You’re absolutely dripping right now. I can smell it from here.”
He was right. Our combined juices from earlier covered my thighs and every stroke of those perfect hands on that perfect cock only made me wetter. An hour ago I was a virgin, and now I wanted nothing more than to feel Father Collins fuck me until I couldn’t walk.
“Turn back around,” he ordered, and I complied. The skirt went b
ack up, and something about the two of us still being mostly dressed made this feel more illicit, if that was even possible. He ran his hands across the two globes of my ass, the feather light touches on my bruised flesh making me whimper in equal parts pain and pleasure. “Such a pretty shade of red.” He pulled his right hand back and brought the full force of his palm down. The loud smack nearly echoed in the quiet room. “Tomorrow it will be an even prettier shade of purple.”
