Too Huge for the Tight Brat

by Jenna Jugzz

  But there’s still no reaction.

  Mr. Peterson just stares blankly. He is starting to make me nervous. Is he really that angry? “Mr. Peterson? Say something…”

  Then he bursts into laughter. He sits upright and puts an arm over my shoulders, laughing hysterically.

  What’s going on?

  He pauses a moment to look me in the eyes, like he’s reading them to see if I’m being serious or not. His eyes squint and his face contorts. He can’t hold back a second wave.

  My eyes shift uncomfortably. I join him with a nervous giggle.

  “What—what’s so funny, Mr. Peterson?”

  “You thought…” he says, patting my shoulder, “you thought I didn’t know!” He lurches forward and starts in on another fit of laughing.

  “You mean… you already knew?”

  Mr. Peterson’s laughter comes to an abrupt end. His expression is suddenly very serious.

  “What, do you take me for some kind of idiot?”

  “I—how did you—“

  “I’ll ask you again.” He’s standing now, pulling up his underwear and buttoning his pants. “Do you take me for some kind of idiot?”

  “No!” I shake my head.

  “You mean no, sir.”

  “No, sir!” I curl up on the couch, tucking my knees to my chest. “I swear!”

  “Of course I knew. In fact, I’ve known all along.” He glares down at me. His eyes are cold and distant. “The credit card company called me the first time you made a purchase.” He flashes a sinister grin. “A magic wand dildo, wasn’t it?”

  My pale cheeks go flush with embarrassment. I can’t bear to look at him with those condemning eyes. My head sags and my hair falls over my face, the dark strands clinging to my cheeks wet with tears.

  “I always figured you were a kinky little brat.”

  I’m a total mess. And yet, there’s a voice stirring inside me. Not of shame, but excitement.

  Now Mr. Peterson knows the truth about what I am. My mind wants to be ashamed, but instead I feel liberated. I don't have to hide it anymore.

  “How can I make it up to you?” I ask, sniffling. “I just want to make it right.”

  “Oh, you will.” He leans down and scoops under my clenched jaw, raising my head to watch me fight back the tears. “By accepting the punishment you deserve.”

  A sudden chill runs the length of my spine, forcing me to perk up on the couch. His words seem to activate a strange desire within me, a secret urge I was hardly familiar with. A desire to be punished.

  “Y—yes…” I say. His brows furrow. “I mean—yes, sir.” My pussy quivers at the thought. I want to say it. Need to say it. He has my permission to do with me as he pleases. Take me however he wants. “Yes! I’ll give you my body and everything else. Just—just forgive me, sir! please!”

  “Then get undressed.”

  I do as instructed, quickly and obediently.

  “Wait,” he says. I freeze in place when my bra crumples to the floor beside my shirt. He grabs a cupful of naked breast and flicks at its hard, perky center. He watches me writhe in place as the tingling bursts of pleasure branch out to every nerve.

  He pinches the stiff nipple between thumb and forefinger and gives it a rough twist.

  “Agh!” The searing pain shoots through me and my knees wobble. I bite down hard on my bottom lip to stifle a scream, squinting as the soft tissue stretches around his fingers.

  “Do you want me to stop?” Mr. Peterson grins, then twists harder.

  “N—no, sir!” I manage through a gasp, doing my best to hide as much visible pain. He wants me to give in. Wants to prove that I’m not worthy of his forgiveness. But I am determined to accept his punishment.

  My head tilts back and I grit my teeth behind pursed lips. I just want to scream. I don’t know if I can hold it in.

  Then the pain subsides in a kind of wet, swirling pleasure. I look down to see Mr. Peterson’s lips seal around the areola. He stuffs the breast in his mouth and licks wildly on the nipple, slurping and sucking while he holds me against the hardness of his bare chest.

  My back arches and I let out a long, deep moan. His arm wraps tight around the small of my back to hold me in place while my neck rolls to the electric sensation of his tongue.

  His mouth peels off and my tit gleams with a dripping coat of saliva. Supple breasts heave above the soft billows of my stomach as I draw in slow, heavy breaths.

  Wiping the spit from his mouth, he says, “Now take off your skirt.”

  “S—sorry?” I immediately regret saying it. His amber eyes light up like a blaze of fire.

  “My forgiveness does not come easy, and neither will your punishment.” He gives my breast a hard squeeze, his fingers threatening another excruciating twist of the nipple.

  I shimmy out of the tiny skirt and stand before him with self-conscious hands fidgeting at my navel. Mr. Peterson snorts, looking me up and down, his eyes glossing over the flare of my hips, down to the white pumps I’m still wearing, and settling on my pink lace panties.

  I’ve never felt so exposed.

  “Now turn around, and bend over,” he says, lifting off his shirt. His voice is cold and callous.

  There’s a long pause, and I quickly regret hesitating. With just one raised eyebrow, he compels me to obey. The ripples of his powerful torso flex with commanding authority. I know where this is going.

  The truth is I desire to receive his punishment. In fact, I’ve never wanted anything so badly. To be taken by the man I am in love with, to be disciplined by his hand.

  “Y-yes, sir.” It feels good to be so deliciously naughty.

  His hand traces over the contours of my waist, gliding over the slender, pale curves as I turn and bend. I pinch my bottom lip with my teeth when the hand rolls over the taut skin of my perfect round ass. Then I let out a surprised yelp when he squeezes a handful-sized chunk.

  “You’ve been a very naughty little girl, Maddie.”

  My heart pounds in my chest when his fingers dip beneath the waist of my panties. He brings them down to mid-thigh in one sudden jerk, revealing the dripping sex between my legs.

  A smooth, caressing hand rolls over my ass cheeks, sending a chill up my spine that raises the tiny hairs at the back of my neck. My eyelids droop in resignation of the coming punishment.

  SMACK!

  The whip-cracking sound of his palm landing square against my ass is followed by the long, deep moan of air expelling itself from my lungs. My pussy flutters to the stinging pain crawling up my backside.

  SMACK!

  “Ungh!” My shoulders spasm to the force of his next blow against the other cheek. What was once a pale shade is now a colorful pink. My hips writhe to the sharp tingling pleasure.

  He unleashes a flurry of spanks, each one more potent than the last. My manicured fingernails dig deep into the skin of my knees while I clutch them for balance. My face contorts between shrill moans, punctuated by the resounding slap of skin against skin.

  At last, he gives pause. The residual tingles of pain cause me to whimper in tiny squeaks between heavy, rapid breaths. What was at first a rosy pink discoloration is a stained red and purple marking of his handiwork.

  My eyes shoot wide when two fingers slip between my legs.

  “I don’t fucking believe it!” Mr. Peterson scoffs. “Is this making you wet?” It’s true. His relentless spanks have turned my quivering pussy into a mess of fluids. His fingers pad around the dripping desire seeping down my thighs.

  “I knew a dirty little slut like you would require a harsher punishment.” I squeal when he swipes across my ass hard enough to make me stumble forward. “Don’t move.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I wouldn’t dare disobey him now. I don’t know what he has in mind, but I’d only make it worse by moving. So I do as instructed and remain frozen in place until he returns.

  “Spread your ass cheeks apart.”

  “M—Mister Peterson?”

&
nbsp; “Now.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I reach around and curl slender fingers between my crack. “Like—like this?” I spread my ass cheeks wide and await whatever is coming with a sort of perverse eagerness.

  My ass clenches out of reflex when a warm liquid slicks down my crack, coating my puckered anus. Mr. Peterson lands a hard blow against a raw cheek, the hardest one yet. Tears well in my eyes and roll over flushed cheeks.

  “Keep them spread, Maddie.”

  “S-sorry—I mean—yes, sir.”

  I peel the cheeks apart again, fighting my own instinct to keep them shut, my trembling knees doing their best to support me.

  Tiny goosebumps raise on the surface of my skin at the sound of his pants unzipping. My pussy clenches when I feel the bulbous head of his cock circling the slick, puckered entrance of my asshole.

  I fling my head back, tossing my long hair onto the sheen of sweat of my arched back. His dick pushes into me, the tight, oil coated walls giving way to the pressure.

  My echoing wails fill the room when his cock slips into my ass. The thorough lubrication softens the pain, but only a little. Somehow, I manage to keep my cheeks spread, fighting through the urge to let my arms fall limp.

  The girth of him spreads my insides. The thick, long shaft continues its penetration into the depths of my ass. My head rolls to the odd pleasure of him entering me entirely.

  My hips lift on their own, writhing against Mr. Peterson’s hard abdomen while his balls tap my slit. The pain is a distant afterthought, shadowed by a heat of building pleasure deep in my core.

  My ass rock against him, taking him in whole as my tongue darts to the corner of my mouth. The sensation of his cock is a new kind of stimulation unlike anything I’ve put up my ass before. Nothing else could fill me so completely.

  My insides shudder to the push and tug of his enormous cock. My legs begin to quake. His hands clutch the sides of my waist while he plumbs my anal cavity, sending me into a fit of desperate moaning, ready to embrace the coming orgasm.

  But he pushes himself out of me by the waist. I make an audible pout, raising my hips in search of his cock.

  I feel it again when it slides down my crack, the throbbing pulse beating between the wet folds of my aching pussy.

  “Agh!” Mr. Peterson moans when I arch my hips and he slips inside, my tight walls contracting around his stiffness. He unloads another round of quick strikes against my ass to punish me for my disobedience. But I fight through the pain of it, pushing backward all the way to the hilt.

  When my tightness squeezes around the entire length, the sensation is too much for him to continue. His arms wrap around my middle instead and he begins a series of quick, impaling thrusts.

  My head tilts back and I moan out. My body jerks back and forth to the power of his rhythmic humps. The muscles of my core contract and flutter with Mr. Peterson balls deep inside my pussy.

  “Fuck! Fuck!” He groans and grabs a handful of tit in each hand. I squirm beneath him, bucking my hips and grinding on his massive cock.

  My heart flutters before the surge of orgasmic energy flows out to each extremity. The walls of my pussy contract and spasm, shooting hot waves of ecstasy through my entire body.

  I’m still twitching underneath him, lost in the sensual fog of my own climax when Mr. Peterson reaches his own.

  His hands tighten like vises around my breasts while he ejaculates a thick load of spunk into my uterus. I can feel the pounding of his heart against my back, the chiseled muscles of his chest digging in as his whole body convulses on top me.

  Endless spurts of hot cum fill my insides. Our bodies spasm together and we moan in unison. My back peels away from his chest and my hips work to milk the massive load from his dick.

  I can’t hold myself up and longer. My knees buckle and I fall forward onto the carpet floor, a white string of semen trailing out from my pussy and trickling off Mr. Peterson’s engorged head.

  I continue twitching on the ground with my ass in the air, the aftershocks of an incredible orgasm still coursing through me as I try to recover my breath.

  “Well then…” The tip of Mr. Peterson’s cock glistens with his seed. “I’d say that about covers at least a couple hundred of what you owe me.”

  A couple hundred? But I’d run up at least five thousand in credit card debt.

  “I expect you back tomorrow for the next round of punishment.”

  Tomorrow? My ass is already so sore. I won’t be sitting down for a week as it is.

  So why do I still want more?

  “Yes, sir.”

  Testing Her Limit

  “C’mon, put your mouth on it!” My light, drooping hair falls around the protruding hip bones of my boyfriend’s waist. I’m holding myself up with straightened arms on either side of his spread legs as he thrusts his pelvis into the air toward me.

  He is a bit skinnier than I like for a guy, but I still think he’s pretty hot. I hesitate to bring my face in closer over his erect cock. I want to please Brent, I’m just not sure if I will like the taste of it.

  My friend Krista told me that her boyfriend’s cum tasted like salt water when she gave him head for the first time, and I’m really hoping that Brent’s will at least have some sweetness to it.

  My arms are trembling, my elbows feel weak. As I struggle to hold myself up, I can’t help but continue lowering my head as my lips part.

  Brent and I have only been dating for about a week, and already I’m about to suck him off in my neighbor’s bedroom. We both turned nineteen this month, so I guess there’s no reason left for me to act like a prude.

  In fact, I am the last out of all my girlfriends to lose her virginity. Up until now I had never even given a blowjob. But Brent is cool with it being my first time, even if he is being a little bit forceful.

  My wet lips connect with the head, just enough to cover the tip. His flesh is surprisingly soft. Our eyes connect and I nibble on the tip a bit, giggling at his reaction. His hips jerk out of reflex, but then he smiles at me and I can tell that he likes it.

  “Stick your tongue out and lick around the head,” he says. The softness of my lips trace along the shaft of his cock. A let a bit of saliva run from my mouth and watch it trail along a thick, pulsating vein.

  He squirms in the ruffled sheets and moans. I place a hand at each of his bare thighs and open my lips wider.

  The truth is, the only reason I waited this long is because I have been saving myself for one man in particular. The only man who really turns me on. The only man I really love--my neighbor, Mr. Johnson.

  He came into my life about ten years ago, when my mom and I came to the suburbs and moved in next door. Before that, we were living in a shitty one-bedroom apartment living off food stamps. Mr. Johnson has helped us out tremendously over the years. His house has always been open to me whenever I felt like, and he pays for most of my things.

  And now that I’m nineteen, all I can think about is how much I want to fuck Mr. Johnson’s brains out. Whenever we are alone together on the living room couch, or when he catches me coming out of the shower wrapped in a tiny bath towel, I just play out the same fantasy in my head again and again.

  I want to tackle Mr. Johnson, rip off his jeans and fuck him like a dirty slut. I want to slobber all over his ball sac and choke down his enormous, throbbing cock. Then when his cock is nice and wet, I want to mount him and slide his cock into my warm pussy.

  I want to ride him on our hard wood floors, and moan as he holds on to my breasts, desperate to stop himself from cumming inside me. I would gyrate hard against his tan, rock hard abs and caress his perfectly toned pecs, screaming out in ecstasy.

  Then if he tried to pull out, I would keep him held down and coax his cum into me, savoring the sensation as every last bit of it jetted from his penis deep inside at my cervix. We would moan together in total bliss as I climaxed at the same time.

  But instead I’m here giving my boyfriend, who I am most certai
nly not in love with, his very first blowjob. I had tried on multiple occasions to seduce Mr. Johnson, but he seemed disinterested every time. Or at least he pretended to be.

  Once, when I purposely ran into Mr. Johnson in the hallway in my bath towel, I just let it fall to floor. I tried to look embarrassed while my entire naked body was exposed to him, but he kept his head turned and his hands out in front to shield his view.

  “It’s okay if you want to look, you know,” I told him then. His face lit up and I giggled. I stepped over the towel and took a graceful step toward him.