"Who knows?" I drawled lazily. "This was Amanda’s idea. Probably something she saw on one of those reality shows where they take off for Cancun."
"Yeah. Those shows discuss the modern marriage and how the modern couple should be with each other. They’re not all bad. It’s actually got some interesting tips for making a successful and happy marriage work." She blushed and looked away, and it was adorable as hell to see the color rush into her cheeks. She looked young and inexperienced. Like someone I should shelter from the depraved people in the world, including me.
"So you watch that stuff too, huh?" I teased her just to see if that color would stay in her face. She wasn't wearing any lipstick and some of that rosiness took over her lips too.
Fuck, what I'd give to be able to kiss her right now.
"Yeah. Doesn’t everyone?" She looked more than a little uncomfortable.
In the dark of the club with only the spotlights on the strippers and the people drunk or crazy enough to get up on the stage with them, the rest of the place was in nearly complete darkness. But lights here and there bright enough that people could walk from place to place without tripping over each other or the strippers littered everywhere like party-sized bags of confetti. It was enough light for me to see Lacey and every gorgeous inch of her. I realized I was staring like a creep when she blushed even harder and looked away. She took a big breath and her eyes squeeze tight for a second before she opened her mouth to say what was on her mind.
August 31 – I’ve been saving a bowl of Jake’s cum. It’s nasty I know, but it’s the new me.
I stared at him in shock. Was he telling the truth? Did it matter?
The entire time I'd known him, Jake had controlled me and controlled everything we did together. He always fucked my ass even though I constantly threw my pussy back at him for him to fuck. He was the one to start our downward slide into sex. But this time, I wanted to be the one in control.
Just like the first time when I'd approached him and he asked me to trust him by climbing into his lap while being surrounded by an entire club full of people, I wanted him to do something for me that showed his trust. And that showed he was willing to give me something back for all the times I had submitted to him without question.
I thought of the glass bowl inside the fridge, shivering with excitement and a touch of lust.
At first, I didn't know what to do with it. But eventually, I put it in the fridge, covered it with aluminum foil and marked it with a warning, “DO NOT TOUCH” in giant letters, so my roommates wouldn't see it and try to drink it warmed up over their cereal or spread on their toast like butter.
It was sick and twisted. If sleeping with my stepfather didn't prove it, then keeping his goopy and sticky cum in my fridge certainly did. Did he make me this way, or had I always been this crazy girl who’d bend over for her step daddy while panting for it like a whore?
The air conditioner in the library blasted over me again and made shiver through my sweatshirt. I looked down at my book again. But after reading the same paragraph for the eighth time and still not understanding what it said, I realized I wasn't doing anything good by being in the library.
Jake's constant injections of cum in my ass had just about killed my ability to think clearly. I wasn't doing anything here in the library that I couldn't do at home. At least there I could eat some of the ice cream my best friends had brought me back from their recent trip to Vermont. I packed up and left the library for the long walk back to my dorm room.
September 15 – Jake and I did the nasty. Again. But this time he pushed that cold, wet cum into my asshole. Who says I’m the only dirty one?
I groaned and pushed back into the sensation of his cold jizz warming up against my skin and inside my bunghole.
"How does that feel, princess? As good as it did going in the first time?" His voice sounded so rough, so good, like he was enjoying the kinkiness of pushing his cum back into me just as I was. I never imagined something like this would feel so good.
“It does, Jake! It does. I want more. Stick your fingers deeper into my ass.” I gasped and jerked my hips, overcome with pleasure. On my back, I felt the cum bowl jerk and start to slide off, but Jake caught it and put it on the bed.
The sound of his belt buckle and his zipper cut through my slutty moans. He was going to touch himself. And I imagined him stroking his thick meat and unloading a fresh load of cum on my back and my ass to mix with the old cum in the bowl. “Uuh!” The lust was wild in me, taking me over like a fever. “Touch yourself, Jake! Shoot your spunk all over me!”
He grunted and I felt his hand pull away from his dick. “Fuck, baby. You’re gonna make me cum in my pants. You’re so hot like this!”
***
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Temptation
~Loving My Ward~
© 2017
By Cassandra Dee
DEDICATION
For all the ladies who gave into their dark sides. Wasn’t it nice?
CHAPTER ONE
Daisy
I’ve always been unpopular, the one hiding out in the library, picked last for all the sports teams. But I don’t blame my classmates. After all, whichever team I was on was practically guaranteed to lose.
“Throw it to Daisy,” opponents would whisper. “Hit the ball to Daisy, she’s got two left hands.”
And it was true. I was so gangly and clumsy that if the ball even sort-of sailed in my direction, I ducked and ran instead of catching and throwing. So I felt personally responsible whenever my team lost, grateful when the bell rang signaling the end of P.E.
But physical education was the least of it. Sometimes, I didn’t feel like I was good at anything. The bowls I molded in ceramics class were lopsided and floppy, the articles I wrote for the school newspaper never seemed to get published, and I was pretty much an outcast, eating lunch alone most days. In fact, there were entire weeks where I put my head down and hoped to disappear, trying to keep out of everyone’s way.
But the last year has been eye-opening because I grew curves, the good kind. At first, it was just my boobs popping out to Double Ds, but my ass and thighs followed, and pretty soon I had an hourglass figure like the kind you see in old-time movies. Once upon a time, heroines were size twelves and proud of it, flaunting their god-given assets instead of hiding them under big jackets and smocks. And even if my figure’s not popular per se, it still changed my life because I feel more confident, and people can sense the vibes. Some kids invited me to be in their study group, I have a lab partner who actually treats me decent, and best of all, I’ve made a couple friends. Okay, maybe I don’t know these girls that well yet, but you know what? It’s nice to be part of a group for a change.
“Oh my god, did you see Nelson Peters the other day?” whispered Natalie, a bubbly blonde with a slightly crooked nose. “He looked sooo hot in his letter jacket.”
We were hanging out by the fountain in front of school and Trina, the top dog of our group, snorted, scrunching her perfect ski slope nose and letting out an unladylike harrumph.
“He wears his letter jacket every day Nat, it’s nothing new,” she remarked sarcastically, twirling a lock of platinum hair around her finger while snapping her gum, looking bored. Trina has been queen bee since freshman year, holding court after school each day in front of the fountain and I was excited to be there that afternoon, part of the clique surrounding her, standing in a semi-circle of supplicants.
“Oh right,” squealed Natalie. “Well, Nelson looks good, he’s really rockin’ football this year, Coach says he’s going to be a starter.”
Trina just snorted again.
“Don’t get your panties in a scrunch because you never know what’ll happen,” scoffed Trina. “Besides, high school boys are boring.”
; High school boys are boring? That was new, I’ve never been asked out by a boy of any age before. But I wanted to belong, so I said the first thing that popped into my mind.
“Yeah, I agree, teenage boys can be so boring,” I said almost in a whisper, looking around, not even sure that anyone could even hear. And it seemed that no one had, continuing their own conversations, animatedly talking about this or that.
Except Trina heard. She cast me an odd look before tossing out, “Yeah, I’m not into Pokémon Go or whatever the new shit is with these guys,” she said. “I like real men.”
I smiled at her.
“Me too, real men rock,” I said a little more boldly.
Trina stared at me even harder then.
“Who are you again?” she asked. By now, more girls had turned towards us and were listening, watching avidly.
I hesitated for a moment.
“I’m Daisy Smith, I have English with a bunch of you guys,” I said, swallowing suddenly. I’d never felt the full force of the group’s gaze on me and it was uncomfortable, like being in a powerful tractor beam, unable to budge.
But Trina snapped her gum again, looking at me thoughtfully before smirking.
“Well you’re about to get your chance because a real man is coming,” she grinned lasciviously. “Daisy Smith, why don’t you go talk with Mr. Ranger? You said you were in English with us right? He’s coming around the corner, go strike up a conversation.”
And I flushed. Because John Ranger is a new teacher to the district, a recent grad who couldn’t have been more than in his late twenties. He was great at his job, explaining books to a bunch of kids who had no interest whatsoever in plot development or other literary devices. But Mr. Ranger definitely had the attention of his female pupils because he was built like a tank with muscles popping out everywhere. Personally, I didn’t think it was attractive, his muscles had muscles, but there was definitely a contingent of teenage girls who swooned whenever he walked past.
“Yeah go talk to him,” squeaked Maria, another hanger-on. “Go! Go! He’s coming, he’s coming.”
And she practically pushed me onto the walkway, my round body tumbling forwards, boobs bouncing up and down. I shook my head frantically, frantically making my way back to the group when Trina’s voice cut like a knife through the air.
“Get his special pen,” her voice taunted in my ears, “or get lost.”
And I whirled around, eyes wide in shock. His special pen? Unfortunately, I knew exactly what she was talking about. Mr. Ranger had a blue pen that he did everything with, from grading papers to writing up summaries. There was nothing remarkable about it except it was inscribed with the date of his college graduation, May 2010. He carried it everywhere with him, whirling it in the air, passing it through his fingers like a baton. And I could see it poking out of his breast pocket even now, the blue tip a small dot against his overly-muscled chest.
“I can’t!” I gasped, “He’d notice immediately. I can’t take that from him!”
But Trina just smirked again.
“You will or don’t come back,” she said nastily, whirling around like a haughty princess, blonde hair flying. And the other girls did the same, tittering behind their hands before turning away as well, pretending like they weren’t watching.
I choked a bit. This was the Twilight Zone, I was caught in some sort of sick rite of passage, making me walk through fire to be part of the group. Had the other girls suffered the same? Had they all had to prove themselves somehow, offer themselves up as sacrificial lambs before “fitting in”? I flushed. I didn’t want to do this, I was still new in my skin, unsure of myself and didn’t want to talk to anyone in front of the judgmental eyes of the clique.
But on the other hand, the Queen Bee had just spoken to me for the first time, and I had to reply. It was life and death, my entire social career on the brink of collapse before even beginning. So I took a deep breath and braced myself.
“Hi Mr. Ranger,” I said, stepping into the big man’s path, putting a shiny smile on my face. I half expected him to brush by me, ignoring me, my self-esteem was that low.
But my new body is like a magnet for men, even guys who are allegedly off-limits.
“Heya,” the musclehead said, blue eyes peering out from that overly-bronzed face. Had Mr. Ranger used a tanning lotion of some sort? My nose wrinkled involuntarily, filled with the scent of coconut and some type of citrus. Oh my god! He was using Hawaiian Tropic, and I could see a tell-tale brown drip staining his collar. But this was no time to dilly-dally, I had work to get done, so taking another deep breath, I went for it.
“I really like the book we’re reading in class, Pride and …” I stumbled. Oh shit, what was that book called again? It was some Victorian classic, pretty good actually, but I couldn’t remember what the title was. It was Pride and something. Pride and the Pauper? Pride and the Prince? Oh shit, oh shit, my cheeks flushed and I bit my lip.
But Mr. Ranger seemed amused more than anything else.
“Pride and Prejudice?” he supplied with a wry grin. “There’s a re-make of it out right now in the theaters, I thought you said you saw it.”
I flushed again. I had, but being caught in the spotlight threw me off. I tried to act casual, winking, laughing lightly like nothing was wrong.
“Oh yeah, I saw the movie, it was really good,” I rushed. “I felt really bad, the main character was from a poor family and needed to marry rich. Isn’t it just so awful that women had to do that back then? I’m so glad those days are gone.”
Mr. Ranger looked at me amused.
“Well our heroine ended up with the right guy, I guess that counts for something,” he said wryly. “But you knew that, right Daisy? Because you read the book, right?”
I nodded fervently.
“Absolutely, I absolutely finished the book, it was really good,” I babbled. “I was just wondering …”
My voice trailed off. How to get that pen? How to mix Pride and Prejudice with that damned pen? My mind worked furiously, reaching in all directions.
And Mr. Ranger drawled again.
“Wondering what?” he rumbled, this time not bothering to hide his wandering gaze. It trailed up and down my curves but all I felt was grossed out, my skin curdling. How could anyone think that an overdeveloped gorilla was hot? Sure Mr. Ranger was tall and muscular, with frosted hair and a flashing smile, but that was the problem. The spiky highlights were too obvious, the white smile too white. I wasn’t attracted at all.
But still, I was desperate to fit in, and my mind seized on anything to keep the conversation going.
“My guardian is interested in donating money to the English department,” I blurted, “Tristan Marks, my guardian, is interested in making a contribution. Could you come over and talk with him, explain to him how he could help Central Prep?” I rushed.
I almost smacked my forehead. WTF was I thinking? My guardian was a cold, domineering, hard-assed man, remote and out of reach. And I’d acted such a dumbass, volunteering Tristan’s time and money to benefit my high school. There was nothing Mr. Marks would be less interested in. My mind spun furiously, trying to think of ways to backtrack, to make up for my boo-boo.
But it was too late because Mr. Ranger nodded.
“Sure, I’d love to chat with him,” he said with a wry grin. “How about tonight?” he said casually.
I stood stock still, stunned.
“Tonight?” I parroted faintly. “That’s a little soon.”
But Mr. Ranger wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“Next week then,” he said swiftly. “And I’ll help you prepare for the upcoming quiz too,” he threw in. “Given that you didn’t know the name of the book we’re reading, you could really use it,” he added with a suggestive quirk of his eyebrows. God, did this guy frost his eyebrows too? They looked suspiciously golden and shiny, liked they’d been dipped in Vaseline.
So I smiled back faintly.
“Um, okay, let me check with
Tristan first, he’s really busy,” I mumbled, fidgeting a little, “but it sounds okay for now.” This was like a runaway train taking off, I was way in over my head, but my mouth kept talking like it was disconnected from my brain. “Should we meet in your classroom or in the library?” I asked, babbling still. “Maybe if Tristan sees the facilities, he’ll have some ideas of what’s needed at the school.”
But Mr. Ranger shook his head.
“Naw, your place is good,” he drawled with a wink. “Besides I’ve always wanted to get a look at the Marks Estate.”
And I stopped short. Oh shit, I’d forgotten that everyone knew who my guardian was, he was a billionaire constantly in the papers for some business deal or other, sometimes photographers even camped outside our property, ready to snap a pic of the man getting into and out of his car. I was in deep ka-ka for sure, he’d never welcome this invasion to his privacy.
But the snowball just kept on rolling, becoming a full-on avalanche.
“Alright, next week at your place,” Mr. Ranger chortled with a grin before walking off, swinging side to side, almost bow-legged he was so overbuilt. What the hell? What had I gotten myself into? My jaw was slack, body drained of energy, and I could only manage a small “bye” that no one heard before the gaggle of girls swarmed me, voices cacophonous, ringing painfully in my ears.
“Oh my god, he was soo hot!” squealed Mandy.
“Did you get the pen?” asked Carly, “I thought I saw you reach for it in his pocket.”
Trina cut them off.
“She didn’t get it, I was watching,” the blonde said authoritatively. “But,” she added with a sly grin, “Daisy’s got a date with Mr. Ranger now. Better work it girl, work it!” she whooped.
And the other ladies began tittering too, letting out little squeals and gasps of anticipation.
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