EROTICA: MAKING HIM HARD, THE ALPHA LOVES THE BRAT

by Allysa Mkermo

  Faster. Rougher. Wilder.

  Just like hot crazed animals.

  “Oh fuck... please pull it out... I’m coming...” I whispered. Axel kissed my neck and licked my breast, creating exciting moments.

  “Not yet baby... Not yet...sshh…” he kissed my tears away. I bite harder on his skin and he grunted.

  “You’re so bad Aloise.”

  I was so out of breath yet the sound of thrusting only gets louder. His erotic solid thrusts were too obsessive. He wanted my body to crave for his touch.

  Soon, my stomach churned and my core sensate.

  “Pull it out! Pull it out!! Axel..! I’m going to cum! I’m going to cum..!”

  “hngh! I’m coming too baby...! ” he growled back.

  Smoothly, he pulled his dick out of my pussy and jerked at my inner thighs. We cum together at the same time and then blood leaked out from my aching pussy.

  Breathing heavily, I looked at my handsome stepbrother, “…I hate you.”

  Axel gazed at my expression and he smiles lovingly, “I love you too.”

  “Serious?”

  “Yeah, want to have kids?”

  “No. Try ten years later.”

  “I definitely will.”

  STORY NINE

  Chapter 1

  “Fuck it,” I threw the coffee-filters in the trash-bin rather soundly, soon followed by the package they arrived in. Every second of effort put into trying to use one of them was an insult to my character. I’ll make sure to remember to buy a different brand, next time. One that didn’t fold itself back up once put in the machine, ending up spilling half the powder, making a fucking mess for me to clean, every time. At my age being single, keeping everything clean usually feels like a real necessity.

  A few years ago, I would have told my husband to fix this mess and buy new filters. At least he was good for that, being put to work. As long as he didn’t have to make a routine out of anything. Lazy bastard. I hoped his new flame, the little dark slut has fun rotting together with him, having to do everything herself. A smile crept onto my lips at the thought.

  An envelope lay on the table in the living room. A brightly colored envelope. It was open, and it was the one thing I refused to look at, or think about. Even thinking about my ex-husband and his new little snake-charmer of a woman was preferable to this.

  The sun was setting outside the kitchen window, and I knew I only had a couple of hours before my son came home from university. It was his first day, and I’d want to hear all about it, and tonight he would be initiat…. fuck, I wasn’t supposed to think about that.

  The frat-party. The initiation. All the things that could go wrong. He is all I have, now... now that Mark has left me. No! I had left him, because of what he did, and it was a long time ago now! I am my own woman. And my son is growing up… little David. At a frat-party, with strippers, and hookers, and older boys… no!

  I kicked the trash-bin and went to the envelope, reading the letter for the hundredth time.

  To all freshmen (and fresh women) of the University of Saint Thomas:

  September 17th, 10 p.m.

  Aula Minora, for the girls

  Aula Magna, for the boys

  Fan + shit = True.

  See you there.

  I went back into the kitchen and kicked the trash-bin again, for good measure. It was so childish. All of it. I had to be there. To see him through.

  I remembered my own initiation, which had been at a boarding-school, which was nothing like my son’s, but still. There had been tears, and for some there had been other fluids as well. I wasn’t afraid of my son getting pregnant, so there was that, but… “Aaahh!” I didn’t know what I was afraid of. It didn’t matter. I had to be there. With my boy.

  A couple of hours later, David opened the door and stepped into our apartment. We lived on the safety-floor, the second floor, which nowadays was the second least expensive one, because people had stopped valuing safety and started valuing view instead.

  But not me. Views were for summer-homes in the country. The place you live the rest of the time needs to be safe. Especially if you have a kid to look after.

  “Hey, kid,” I chirped, once he stepped around the hallway-corner, into the living room.

  “Hiya, mom. How are you?” the dark-haired, rather short boy answered. He hadn’t really inherited any physical traits from me, which always surprised people, especially now that we were alone, his dark hair contrasting strongly against my blonde, his brown eyes fencing with my blue ones.

  And my boy might end up being beaten with hot irons, while impregnating some hooker, getting all sorts of diseases in the process, tonight, and I can’t do anything about it.

  “So, how was school?” I continued in a happy, carefree voice.

  “Meh,” was the reply I got, before David disappeared into the kitchen, and started digging through the fridge and all the cabinets.

  “Are you nervous about tonight?” I added cheerfully.

  David laughed. “Nah, mom. I’m a big boy. I can handle whatever they throw at me. How bad could it be?”

  If he only knew how bad it could be, in my head.

  “That’s my boy,” was all I said, however, with a smile. Let him keep that innocence of his. I’d be there to protect him.

  “Anyway,” he said, “it’s only a few hours left, so I’m just going to eat something and then head back. Do we have anything?”

  “It’s in the oven,” I smiled.

  He smiled back, and turned around to check in the oven, where a hotchpotch of oven-baked root-vegetables had been sitting for about three and a half hours now, slowly softening to deliciousness in honey and butter.

  “Woah, awesome!” he exclaimed. “You haven’t done this in ages!”

  My smile widened, but my eyes were stressed. Might very well be his last meal, if I didn’t figure out a way to get into that party. Of course, non-degenerate women weren’t allowed.

  We wouldn’t want sanity to ruin the boys of our generation, would we? When they can learn to see little dark sluts as treats, instead? No.

  Suddenly, it struck me. My dress! My own frat-dress! It was in a box somewhere, to be sure! That would make me fit into any collection of strippers, and I still had the body to pull it off, didn’t I? I couldn’t help but look myself over.

  I was still in my thirties, and would be for another couple of months. I had always been beautiful, and I’d lived a physically easy life. I’d made sure to. In this world, beauty and the wisdom not to appear too intelligent were the sword and the shield respectively, for a woman, and I had carefully developed both, through education, and academic work.

  I am an author, and have managed to live well off it, though I am by no means famous. Erotic novels isn’t a genre that gets your face a lot of attention, but it generates a lot of money, and I’ve been doing it long enough to be able to make new books, merely from scrambling and fusing the content of stories I’ve written before. Eroticism was, after all, a repetitive field.

  But it had let me keep my beauty. My neck was long and smooth, my breasts still high and firm, not that my old dress would allow anything else, my waist slender and my hips wide, but my butt firm, and my legs long. I’d probably outshine some of the professionals at the party, even.

  Girls too young to have fully developed their bodies always seemed attractive to men in theory, but when it came down to it, I had found that being a real woman always lets you end up on top, so to speak.

  “What are you smiling about?” my son asked, an overflowing plate in his hand and a fork on its way to his mouth before he’d even bothered to sit down.

  “Meh”, I answered cheekily, and David smiled. His smile was my greatest treasure.

  Not much was said, while David wolfed the food in front of him, and after another serving, it was time for him to go.

  His cocky words aside, I could see on him that he was nervous.

  “It’ll be fine,” I assured him, patting him on the back,
“you’re a big boy. You can handle whatever they throw at you. How bad could it be?”

  He laughed, and hugged me. I hugged him back.

  “Have fun, you.” I said, ruffling his constantly messy hair.

  “I will,” he confirmed, opened the door, walked out, and closed it behind him.

  “Now,” I thought, “where is that dress?”

  Half an hour later, I was on my way. Not wanting to be recognized, and wanting to look more like a young sleaze than a classy lady, I’d intentionally put my make-up on clumsily and exaggeratedly, which had made the process quick. My old dress was almost squeaking; it was so tight. For being early autumn, it was warm, so even though the dress was almost short enough to be a top, I didn’t freeze.

  The university was close, and coming up on it, it wasn’t hard to spot the group of girls on their way to the boys’ party. I quietly slipped into the group, and was waved in by the guard by the door, a boy as young as the rest. Easier than I’d thought, but then again, boys had always been a little stupid around women, and about which women to let in, and which to shut out.

  Whether women made boys stupid by effect or by contrast had never been established, to the best of my knowledge, but to me it had always seemed most likely to be both.

  In any case, I was in.

  Chapter 2

  All steady, white lights had been turned off, and replaced with moving, colorful lights, as if this was a tribute to the 80s, rather than a 21st century frat-party. I felt at home.

  The dress was so tight that any underwear would create ugly lines, but it was also made to compensate for that fact, with build in support for the breasts, and a cut that made sure it wouldn’t reveal anything, despite being so short.

  Despite knowing that, I felt a little exposed. The airy feel was one I was not used to, and even after my porn-afflicted, patriarchy-upholding husband had left me, I’d kept up the habit of shaving myself completely, between my legs. Why, I could not say, but the result was airy.

  This was not the time to be prude, however, so I confidently showed myself off, with the other girls, earning many looks from the boys, just as I always had.

  I still had it.

  I had expected the boys to look younger than they did. They were my son’s age, after all, but looking at them now, instead of feeling old, I felt younger. The way they looked at me made me feel attractive, just as I had the last time I wore this dress, and there was no denying many of the boys caught my eye. Tall, fit, well-dressed, handsome and studying at one of the better universities in the country, any one of these boys could have earned a place in my bed, were I here for that reason.

  But I wasn’t. I would just stay close for a while, watching over my son, and then go home.

  … and maybe give myself a little attention, when I got home.

  Suddenly, someone bumped into me, and I was pulled out of my thoughts, and turned around, forcing a smile, as I met the eyes of a boy.

  “Hey, girl. Why don’t you dance for me, a little?” he asked me, the distinct smell of alcohol already thick on his breath.

  He was taller than I was, dark brown hair, wearing a nice shirt with short sleeves, and almost certainly here as the result of a sports-scholarship, the way the muscles flowed over his bare arms and neck. I changed my smile, and turned around, moving seductively, while keeping my eyes open for my son, not taking notice of the fact that I was dancing right next to a mirrored coffee-table, where a number of the boys were sitting.

  I heard a sound of surprise, and turned my head to see one of the boys standing with his pants around his ankles, one of his friends jumping back from his weak punches, laughing. He’d pulled his buddy’s pants down, and it didn’t take any time at all to figure out why.

  The guy’s dick was practically pointing to the ceiling.

  Looking around, still moving my hips, without thinking, I saw that all the guys around the table were looking back and forth between me and the coffee-table, mouths open and eyes unblinking. I followed their eyes to the top of the table mirror, and looked right up my own skirt. I froze. I had danced completely exposed, and now all focus was on me.

  As I watched, several of the guys rose as one, and started unbuckling their pants, and as I took a step back, I felt the tip of a cock press against my ass. I instinctively grabbed it. All the years of dissatisfaction, of neglect, of frustration, it all came back to me, and without thinking, I started jerking the guy off with my hand.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw the other guys gather around, rubbing themselves while looking at me. At least 8 guys were surrounding me now, all with their stiffs out. They were staring at me so intently. I couldn’t help but give them a show. Might as well teach these young men a thing or two, while I’m at it.

  Turns out the hard, thick tip that poked me belonged to the jock that had asked me to dance for him, before. I pulled him closer, leaned forward just a little, and put him right at the money-spot. Then I let him go. As he pushed himself into me, dilating my flesh, I felt myself flowing around him, the warm fluids produced by my body running along his shaft, smoothening its ride between my soft and swollen lips, as he pushed deeper and deeper.

  With my directions, he hit the G-spot right from the start, and I had to gasp at the intensity of having it touched for the first time in too long. I clenched my teeth, then immediately opened my mouth again to press out an aspirated moan. I reached down and grabbed his hand, which was cupping my hip, intensifying every slow thrust. He was remarkably patient, this young man. Excellent, this wasn’t his first time, then. I had to gasp again.

  He was increasing his pace now though, and I grabbed his hand tighter as I felt a pressure building within me. With a small shout I squirted all over the sharp abs of his lower abdomen, tremors running through us both, as if we were one being. He pulled out, and I turned around and saw that he hadn’t come.

  That wouldn’t do.

  I grabbed his dick, and pulled him with me, grabbing two more guys in the same fashion, while walking, leading them to an empty room, in which I put on the steadier, bright light. I wanted to look at them. The door left open, the guys all tried to undress me, but not trusting them with handling the dress, I shooed them off, but, seeing the looks of rejection on their faces, decided to give them another show.

  My dress was one that one had to step into, and pull up to get on, so to remove it, I started sliding it down from my shoulders, first just baring a shoulder, then another, making it look as if all that was holding the dress up were my unnaturally firm breasts, when of course in fact, the opposite was true. It was enough to fool the young studs though, mostly I think because they wanted it to be true, and all of them were now staring at me with their mouths open.

  Keeping the edge of the dress above my boobs, I slid an arm out of it, and then the other. I then turned around slowly, sliding it down my back and over my boobs, freeing them out of sight, and continuing to slide the dress down, over my slim waist. I turned around again, with my arms crossed in front of my breasts, my dress hanging on my hips, and walked up to the jock, opening my arms just before I walked into him, pressing myself against him, and pulling off his jacket.

  None of the guys are wearing pants, but I’m not some sexualized doll to be fucked with an opened zipper, while I’m all naked. I demand some eye-candy of my own.

  I slipped my hands under his shirt and find a wall of rippling muscle underneath. God, how can they all be so fit? And so tall? And so, so handsome?

  I slipped my fingers in between the buttons of his shirt, and tore it off him. The sight literally made my mouth water, though that was nothing compared to the flow that started elsewhere. I had to get that plugged up. Now. Looking around, I saw that the other guys had followed suit, so to speak, and undressed themselves. God, they were sexy.

  I turned around again and leaned forward, slowly sliding the dress down my back, over my butt, and down my legs. I didn’t even have time to step out of it, before the Jock lifted me into the air,
and carried me to the desk in the middle of the room, laying me down on top of it.

  As I was on my back, in the bright light, I could now see him even more clearly. Shit, his cock was big, and holy hell, he was in shape. There wasn’t an inch of him that didn’t ripple at the slightest movement. Was it even possible to be this muscular? Yet he didn’t look pumped up. His muscles looked natural, somehow. Flowed naturally with the shape of his body.

  He didn’t even need to use his hand to point himself right at his target, and for the second time tonight, he pressed himself inside me, standing in front of me. With the knowledge of how big he was, the sense of being dilated actually grew even more intense.

  As he thrusted into me, first half way, and then balls deep, I felt a finger push its way into my ass.

  The added pressure was amazing. I could now practically feel the veins running along the cock that was sliding in and out of me. Before I’d processed it, I felt another slick finger join the first. I had to gasp for air, this fuck was so intense. Just as I was leaning towards the edge of orgasm again, however, Jock slowed down, and came to a halt. I hadn’t felt him cum. What was going on?

  He pulled out of me, and as I looked at him, I saw him place his cock against me once more. In a different place, this time. He wrapped his arms around my legs and put them against his chest, and then he slowly pressed all of himself inside the wonderful tightness of my firm ass.

  Twice during his slow penetration of me, I convulsed around his dick, my upper body lifting off the desk. I grabbed his rock hard forearms with all my might, pressed my eyes shut and clenched my teeth.