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Mr. J

By: Orcaman47



Mr. Jepsem, principal at Holy Shepherd Christian High School was tired. It had been a long year and now, in early June, it was winding down. He looked out the window of his office just as the senior lunch period was beginning. Christie Allenhof and Jessica Flores were giggling and talking animatedly as they meandered by. Jepsem knew that these last few weeks of school could be trying. The students, and even some staff, were itching to let their hair down and sometimes that led to trouble.

Christie swerved and deliberately smashed her right shoulder in to Jessica's left shoulder, causing Jessica, a tall dark skinned beauty, to loose control of the two large cups of water she was holding and spill the water all over herself. Her white shirt became instantly translucent. She laughed and faced the heavily reflective coated window of Mr. Jepsem's office to assess the damage. Looking through the other side, he could plainly see the lacy unlined cups of her bra and even the dark disks of her areola and nipples.

Jepsem was used to looking up at some student who thought the window was a mirror. Over the years he had seen guys checking out their packages, girls fixing their make up, people looking at their contact lenses and even the food caught in their dental braces. 

His immediate reaction was that Jessica was probably terribly embarrassed by this unfortunate accident. The poor girl would probably be traumatized to remember this humiliating event punctuating her last week at school. Then he realized that she had done nothing to cover up as she walked into the quad. People, especially guys, cheered and whistled. Jepsem also noticed that Jessica's skirt seemed too short to meet the school's strict dress standard. Jessica had been his student assistant last semester, she knew it was a window, not a mirror.

Jepsem reached for the walkie-talkie on his desk and keyed the mic. Standing at his window, he looked for a security person or a teacher who would be monitoring the lunch area. He couldn't see any. He called on the radio but was only able to reach the custodian, who was in the far corner of the campus stadium. Finally, he holstered the radio and headed for his office door. Just then, a student assistant knocked on the door and when Jepsem opened it, he saw a crowd of students around Mr. Graves, the security officer. Graves was bleeding from his mouth and nose. Two students were steadying the burley man who seemed somewhat dazed. Graves' yellow shirt was soaked in blood.

"Mr. Jepsem, Mr. Graves hurt himself...he accidently ran into the corner of the building." 

Jepsem ushered Graves into a chair. Then he sent one of the students to the teachers' lounge to find Mrs. Worley, the girls' P.E. teacher and certified trainer. She served as the school nurse as well. Jepsem would have to deal with Jessica Flores later. 

"This is always a problem..." he thought. "The last week of school the seniors always push the rules." Last year Marcia Wallace had stepped off the property and taken off her shirt completely. She had been wearing the skimpiest of bathing suit tops he had ever seen. Jepsem had been in the parking lot and told her he wanted to see her in his office, but she taunted that she was on public property and the school couldn't do anything about it. And she was right. But Jepsem called her parents anyway. The parents pointed out that she was 18, had actually completed all of her classes and requirements and was heading for the beach right after class that day. The only reason she had been on campus at all was to collect more autographs in her yearbook. And they pointed out that they had spent about $45,000 to send her to Holy Shepherd over the past four years and they expected her to walk in the graduation ceremony and to receive her diploma and go to the grad night party. They made it clear that they would take legal action if Jepsem tried to discipline their daughter for something so trivial.

Legal action was the key. The school was very conscious of its public image and did everything it could to avoid negative publicity. He knew he had taken the issue as far as he could.

But Jessica Flores was not going to get away with this. She had pulled her wet t-shirt stunt 4 days too early. And Jessica's parents didn't have the money of the Wallace family. They would not sue or make a stink. When her dad had been laid off from work, Jessica had been allowed to attend at a discounted rate one semester, so the family felt highly obligated to the school.

By the time the Graves issue was handled, the lunch period was over. Mr. Jepsem sent a student assistant to fetch Jessica to the office but the student returned to report that Jessica had already left campus for the day. Jepsem was furious.

The next morning Mr. Jepsem waited by the student entrance to snag the leggy brunet before first period. But he didn't see her. Two minutes after the late bell sounded he heard and saw her vintage 1972 Pantera enter the parking lot. Her uncle had given the car to her for her 18th birthday. But once again Jepsem was thwarted. 

The football coach and the state athletic commissioner were expecting him in a meeting in two minutes, it was about the re-leaguing of all athletic teams and the meeting would last until noon. 

When he saw the girl emerge from her car his blood boiled. She was again wearing a too short skirt and this time she was wearing a spaghetti strapped shirt. The school rule said that shoulder straps had to be at least 2 inches wide at the top of the shoulder and Jepsem would bet dollars to donuts that her straps were no wider than an inch and three quarters. Jessica was taking her time getting her purse and yearbook out of the low-slung car. She kicked off her moccasin style driving slippers and donned a pair of flip-flop sandals. She looked like one of Barbi's tan playmates. Jepsem heard the third page for him to report to his office just as he was going to step in to the parking lot to confront her. 

"Jessica, I want to see you in my office at 12:00." He called out to her.

"Sorry Mr. J, I'm outta here at 11:30 today. I have my placement exam at the college at 11:45."

"Be there!"

"Sorry." She smiled sweetly. Just like when boys asked her for a date and she declined. 

He fumed as he rushed to his office. He would be asking for a few concessions in the re-leaguing talks and couldn't afford to start out on the wrong foot with Mr. Fagans. Fagans was the Commissioner and he was known as a no-nonsense guy and tough negotiator.

On Wednesday morning Jepsem was again waiting for Jessica when she arrived.

Once again, she entered the parking lot just as the late bell was ringing. The low rumble of her car's engine, punctuated by her occasional blipping of the throttle, was unmistakable. Car alarms were going off all along her route.

This time, as she emerged from the car, Mr. Jepsem was right behind her. 

"Miss Flores, I want to see you in my office in one minute." He voice was cold and firm.

"Oh! Hi Mr. J., you scared me." She acted like he hadn't said a word.

"In my office in one minute." He repeated.

"Sorry, no can do. I'm meeting Bridget in the library to help her study for her final. I'm her mentor, ya know, and we were told that nothing comes ahead of that obligation." She acted like Mr. Jepsen's demand to meet in his office was nothing more than a casual invitation to a minor social event. Jepsen became furious.

"As of yesterday, you are no longer Bridget's mentor. You are on probation and as such, you are not eligible to mentor anyone. As a matter of fact, young lady, you are in serious risk of being suspended. You may not even graduate. Now get to my office!"

"Bbut Bridget is expecting me! I can't let her down!"

"I will send someone else to help her. Now go to my office...Now!"

Jessica was used to getting her way and reacted more with anger than with fear. But suddenly his words about graduation sunk in. 

Jepsem stopped by his secretary for a second to arrange coverage for Bridget's tutoring and then he closed the door as he went into his office. Jessica was seated in front of the desk. Her manner was totally appropriate.

"Young lady, you have some explaining to do."

"I don't understand..."

"Don't give me that...I'm talking about the other day when you deliberately spilled water on your shirt..."

"When?"

"The other day...you know..."

"No, sorry, can you be more specific?" She sat back in the chair, slouching a little. She let her legs fall slightly apart.

"You and Christie, at lunch time, she bumped in to you and you spilled water..."

"Oh that...she bumped in to me. You said it yourself. Wait, you thought that was on purpose? That's pretty weird, only a pervert would think that was anything but on accident. Something like out of some perverse fantasy or cheep porno." Jessica looked him straight in the eye, her mind was racing down another track now, she let her thighs separate even more. "Thank you for your concern." She brushed him off!

"This isn't a concern, this is a disciplinary matter!" Jepsem didn't notice the subtle change in her manner. He nearly shouted as he became furious. He turned to a tall file cabinet and rummaged through it, looking for Jessica's file. "I have a whole sheet of little incidents about you...in here...somewhere." He continued rifling. 

With his back to her, Jessica lifted her shirt and pulled down her bra. She also pulled off her panties and tossed them under the credenza below the window to her right.

"Ah hah!" Jepsem said, triumphantly as he turned around with the file in his hand. Then he saw the little slut.

"Wh...wh..what are you doing?" Suddenly his mind comprehended many things all at once. The little slut had turned the tables. He was totally vulnerable. The door was closed. Nobody was present as a witness to protect him. Because of a recent court case, the video monitoring of student meetings had been banned. Jessica's file was pristine, devoid of formal or even informal discipline. Her record looked like that of a model student. He had two file drawers chock full of porn magazines he had confiscated from students, or recovered from stashes around campus. Most of them were of the "Barely Legal" or "Highschool Sluts" variety. Why had he kept them? Did Jessica know about them from her days as a student assistant? Why didn't he throw them away? They were evidence in some disciplinary cases. Why didn't he just copy the covers and destroy the rest of the magazines? He hadn't gotten around to it yet and he couldn't have an assistant, student or otherwise do it. God! Her tits were perfect! She shaves her pussy! Why is my wife such a cold fish? Damn it! I'm fucked.

"Well, Mr. J., I guess you could either consider this as a threat...All I have to do is call the cops...or my uncle..." She held up her cell phone. "Or call for Mrs. Lee, surely she could hear me if I shouted...Or you could consider it a negotiation...you could shred that silly folder and we could just end this whole ridiculous conversation right now. I have two days left in this shitty hell hole and I don't want you to fuck them up for me."

Jepsem thought of his career. Twenty years out of college, working as a sub, then a teacher and finally into administration at this low-paying private school. Everything could go down the toilet. All for just trying to do his job and enforce the rules. Flores' uncle was one of those internet muck raking bloggers with a substantial following. Hadn't he been kicked out of Holy Shepherd some years ago? What Jepsem didn't need was to attract his attention! His life would be ruined. What if he had to resign in disgrace and register as a sex offender? He would never get another job. How could he face his wife and kids? He was only in his 40s. What would he do? What could he do? He felt his starched white shirt sticking to his sweating body. His heart pounded. Suddenly his tie seemed too tight. Did this little spilled water incident mean that much to him? He looked at the little tramp in front of him and wondered what her pussy tasted like. Was it sweet and young? Or did it taste old and bitter like his wife's? He didn't realize that his gaze had dropped to the dewy folds she was presenting.

"I could even throw in a bonus and let you lick my pussy and feel my tits." Jessica's voice had softened. She actually liked Mr. Jepsem, he was young and good looking with a nice fit body and very interesting green eyes. But she could not tolerate anyone pushing her. "Or we could meet at a motel in a couple of weeks and you could have even more...you know...the motel where you met Mindy Simmons last year?"

Fuck! I am so screwed. "I met her there to give her her yearbook that she had lost and we found the week after summer started...she worked as a lifeguard there...she wanted me to bring it there..."

"Well, the pictures I saw show you and her going into a room together...you're in shorts and without a shirt and she's in a teeny teeny tiny bikini...didn't look like a lifeguard suit...yeah, there was no yearbook in sight...but you did have a hard on...nice wood Mr. J!"

"Pictures? We left the yearbook in her car and she invited me in to the break room for a cola!" He was almost shouting and didn't even realize that he had gotten up and moved over to Jessica.

"Well, that's not the way she tells it...I'm just saying...I can see the headlines now..." She swept her hand as though reading a banner, "Christian School Principal Accused of Inappropriate Sexual Conduct With Students...Respect Educator Accused of Illegal Sex Acts..." She spread her legs even farther, offering a tantalizingly lewd invitation. Her hand found its way to her breast and she pinched her nipple, making the dark nub swell and stiffen. She felt her pussy moistening.

"Just who do you think you...?"

"I'm your worst nightmare, or at least I could be..."

He felt dizzy and closed his eyes and sat on the edge of the desk, he realized his cock was straining in his pants and he noticed a wet spot at the peak of his trouser- tent. Confused...defeated? While his eyes were closed, Jessica quickly slipped a finger between her damp pussy lips and slowly wiped it across his mouth. His eyes flashed open when he felt the girl's finger touch him.

"Mr. Jepsem, your 8:30 is here." They both jumped as the door opened and Mrs. Lee stuck her head in. "Oh!" She quickly pulled her head back and closed the door.

Jepsem dashed back to his side of the desk. He threw the file folder to Jessica. "Get out." He said weakly, sadly. What was the dampness he felt on his lips? What was that taste?

Jessica sat up and pulled up her bra and buttoned her blouse, intentionally leaving one extra button open. Just the waistband of her panty was visible under the credenza from where she sat. She quickly grabbed it and concealed it in her fist while Mr. Jepsem tried to regain his composure and got a bottle of water from the fridge in the corner of his office. 

Jessica stood, tucking the file into her yearbook as she walked toward the fridge. Smoothing down her skirt she asked. "Can I please have some water too?" 

As he turned away, she quickly tossed the panty into the back of the still-open file cabinet. After he handed her the water she opened the office door and held up the bottle in salute to him. She saw him close the file drawer without looking inside. "Okay then, just call me later. Thanks, you're a doll."

"Just give me a minute?" Jepsem said beyond her to Mrs. Lee.

Jessica couldn't help herself from doing a little runway model strut as she walked through the outer office. She noticed Mindy Simmons' little brother standing with Mrs. Lee. His hands were on his hips and his lips showed a defiant smirk.

"Hey Mike!"

"Hey Jess!"

Mr. Jackson and Molly



Part 1: Thunderstorms and Virginity,/B>

I know a little cafe bar in a rural town near my lake home that is a great place for burgers and beer. They have a sign over the bar proclaiming cold food, warm beer, and lousy service. Fortunately, we patrons know the sign is wrong. It is a place to bring family for a good dinner when driving several miles into the city is just not an option. It is not a pick-up joint.

Folks do not know mw well there since my lake home is a weekend retreat and a place where I can go vacation on little money. I am quickly approaching my mid sixties, carry some extra weight, and prefer jeans and sweatshirts to business attire. I am in business for myself and it is a jeans and sweatshirt business making me comfortable at work or lounging. 

Spring weather is in full bloom and I am working in yard along the lake trying to clean winter debris and make the shore presentable. It is not the warm part of spring leading into summer; it is still cool enough for a jacket until the sun reaches its noontime high.

"Hi Mister Jackson," I heard a sweet voice call. I looked to see who called my name and standing near by was Molly, my neighbor's 19-year daughter. Molly is cute, light brown hair that goes blond in the summer sun. She is a nice height of about five feet seven inches tall. Over the years, I watched her grow from a bumbling nervous tween into the womanly figure she is now. 

"Oh, hi Molly. I bet you are glad for warm weather to return. Do you need something?" I could see apprehension in her demeanor and waited for her answer.

She took a few more paces closer. It was her habit to stand away waiting for me to turn and acknowledge her. "Well, Mister Jackson," the apprehension was in her voice as well, "uhm, yeah, I do need something and I hope you don't think it is foolish."

"Molly, it is only foolish if you don't tell me. I can take a break from this job for a sweet neighbor. Why don't you go inside and make us some hot tea while I finish this spot. She trotted off to my house, her young body showing off its firmness. Before long, her summer attire of bikinis will taunt all the neighborhood boys and men.

I was about ten minutes finishing my task and putting away tools before I went inside for tea. Molly was just heating the tea pot with hot water before pouring in the tea water and tea ball full of King Cole tea from Canada. She also had tea cakes laid out. "Let me wash up a bit, I'll be right out." I disappeared into the bathroom to wash.

When I returned, Molly had place settings ready, "Come, Mister Jackson, sit down for your tea." Molly smiled a magnetic smile as she called me. She would not sit until I did her show of politeness and respect. "I think I brewed it the way you like it."

"Come on, Molly, sit down, I'm here now. What is the issue on your mind today?" I knew if I did not get to the point, Molly would take her time and maybe not say anything at all. She sat across from me; her smile and bright eyes could melt the winter snow and warm the Arctic. 

"Will you vacation here this summer, Mister Jackson? If you do when will you start?" Molly's voice foretold a longer story and I asked her to tell me what she needed to tell me. "My family said I could stay here this summer instead of going on vacation with them. I'm happy about that but staying alone for three weeks is kind of scary for me. If you are here, I have a neighbor who I call if I need."

I already knew about the vacation arrangements and already planned my vacation at the lake for the same time; however, Molly did not know that. I suspected her parents said nothing to her since she asked in ways confirming she did not know the plans.

"I do have a month of vacation planned for July. I am not traveling anywhere and will be here. When do your parents leave?" Molly lit up when she heard my vacation plans. She was almost giddy with excitement.

"Mister Jackson, really! That's perfect. Can I visit you while you're here? We can drink tea and talk about things." I was not sure what topics I could talk about with a young women or what topics she would want to talk to me about. I guess that will wait for July.

We finished our tea and nibbled on cakes. We talked about general things, mostly what is happening around the lake. "I better go so you can get back to your yard. I am excited that you will be here this summer." Molly gave me a hug and little kiss on the cheek before bounding off.

Through the rest of April, May, and June, I made a couple weekend trips to the lake and saw Molly occasionally. I talked with her parents who did not have many instructions for me. At 19, Molly is an adult and a very responsible young woman.

**********

July Fourth weekend this year is a weekend with the fourth on Saturday. I arrived on the first and started setting up for my month of vacation. Molly must have seen me arrive because minutes later she appeared to help me get organized. This warm July day, Molly wore loose baggy shorts and an oversize T-shirt. She had a bikini bra on with tie strings hanging out of the shirt and I presumed she had bikini bottoms on under the shorts.

I had several bags of groceries and my clothes to organize. "I'll put away groceries, Mister Jackson so you can unpack clothes. Mom and dad want you to come for dinner tonight. I think they want to give you final instructions for watching me," I heard her giggle.

"I probably should not say this, Molly; I enjoy watching you."

Molly was a great help getting the kitchen into order and functioning. I heard her working banging around cupboards then heard water running. I guessed she had tea almost ready. When I came back to the kitchen, she greeted me with a cup of tea. "I am glad you are staying here for vacation and I get to stay too."

We settled into the living room with our tea. The house at the lake is not large, the kitchen - living room is really one great room. "Listen, Molly, you are an adult and I will not be watching and waiting up for you if you have plans for late nights out on a date. I will be here if you need to call for a ride." 

"Oh, I don't date much. I like staying around here. Guys around here are fun and we get along like best friends. I don't want to complicate that with dating. If you see me out late, it will be on the shore at a bonfire. I don't think I will call for a ride, Mister Jackson." What she said was true from everything I knew. 

"Thank you for coming over to help me get settled. I would be at it for hours by myself. What time do your parents want me for dinner? I have a couple loose ends to tighten up before I am really on vacation." Molly took my teacup to the sink and headed out the door.

"Bye Mister Jackson, I'll see you later." I could not help but watch her bound off to the shore stripping off her shirt and shorts to reveal her bikini and firm body. There was not much to the bikini and I ridiculed myself for watching her.

Dennis, a neighbor boy was fishing from his paddleboat. He paddled up and Molly got in with him. As they paddled away, she looked back and waved. Molly did not tell me what time for dinner.

The first few days of vacation were full of activities leading up to the Fourth. Fireworks are legal in this county and the sounds of fireworks echoed all around the lake. Neighbors had bonfires and beer, barbeques and music, a whole host of Fourth Weekend craziness. I hosted one fire and barbeque having dozens coming and going. Molly was ever present and her parents came by although they were busy packing.

The Fourth started with paddle boat races in the morning. Paddle boat races are much like bumper cars in virtually unsinkable little paddleboats. The races have several categories from age five to age 75. Everyone wears a life jacket no matter how well they swim. Part of paddleboat racing around here is trying to stay dry. Everyone wears swimming suits because it is a tradition to get wet.

Later in the day come swimming races and bicycle races along the beach. In the evening, everyone has a bonfire and at dark, we start blowing off our big fireworks. The night air fills with scent of gunpowder and the sky fills with exploding rockets and bright flashes of color. This weekend there were more fireworks than usual since the Fourth is a Saturday and people have Sunday to recover.

Molly's parents planned to leave for vacation Sunday morning and bugged out of all the parities early. However, Molly stayed out until the last firecracker exploded and the last bonfire flickered out. I was out later than I imagined I would. I ended up watching from my deck. Molly came by a couple times bounding from fire to another. Just before I called it a night, she came past again, stopped for a moment telling me thank you for being here. Her bikini-clad body shown against the night sky glistened with dampness from humidity and a day of crazy neighborhood celebrations.

Sunday morning was a polar opposite to Saturday the Fourth. The morning broke silently and I woke to the smell of coffee brewing in my programmable coffee pot. This would be a good morning for coffee and bagels on the deck. I took a quick shower and dressed in my vacation clothes, jean shorts, knit shirt, and canvas deck shoes.

I set down my coffee and bagel, grabbed my tablet computer and settled in to read the morning news. Some neighbors were already out cleaning up messes along the lakeshore. It was not long before I heard a car door close and saw Molly's family drive of for their three weeks away. I went back to reading a trade article that got my interest.

It was a nice morning to sit, read, and sip coffee; I took full advantage of the warm summer sun, hot coffee, and reading material. I was deep into a couple news articles when I heard the familiar, "Hi Mister Jackson," coming from Molly. I invited her to have a coffee with me; she accepted with a big smile.

"I saw your family drive off and now you are out causing mischief, I see." She had on beach shorts, over a bikini bottom I guessed, and a loose T-shirt over a bikini top. "Have a bagel, Molly, if you want one," I called to her.

We sat quietly as I finished my reading. When I put the tablet down, Molly eyes met mine. "Do you think I'm causing mischief, really? You know I'm not a trouble maker."

"Mischief and trouble making are different things. You are a mischief-maker, a merry maker, and a diversion from the mundane. And, I like you making mischief." Her pout quickly turned to smiles.

"Mister Jackson, you teach me so much, I love being around you. You treat me as an adult not a teen. I feel special when you talk to me." The honesty in her voice reached my ears and there was a look in her eyes of womanly interest in a man. It frightened me to guess what thoughts circulated in her head.

"Molly, you are special, more adult some adults I know. Yet, you are youthful and vibrant, fun loving and merry making. If we were closer in age, I would be a trouble maker." I hope that I had not said too much or that my words did not scare her. Her next statement confirmed that I had not said too much and that frightened me.

"I think I would like you being a trouble maker and I don't care about age." Now the fear of saying too much showed on her face. She drank her coffee waiting for me to say something.

"Molly, everyone calls me Jack, my nickname. My name is Pat. I want you to call me Jack or Pat. But we do need to stop these innuendos." I needed to change the direction of this conversation before thing got out of hand.

"I like Jack, I'll call you Jack. Can I call you Jack in public, too?" Her parents raised her to respect older people and be polite in public. I nodded an affirmative to calling me Jack in public. We finished our coffee and Molly went home saying she had some laundry to wash. I did not see her until later in the afternoon when she was swimming with a group of neighbor boys and girls.

I settled into a vacation routine, swimming, paddle boating, clean the yard, and visiting with neighbors who were out. Mid week, the weather forecast called for a thunderstorm and could be potentially damaging. I secured my outdoor furniture and waited for the worst.

Storm clouds built and soon a massive wall cloud formed. This was going to be a big one. About 6:30 in the evening, all hell broke loose. We had straight-line winds hitting 70 miles per hour with thunder and lightning cracking all around. Power went out when a lightning strike hit near a power transformer. I have a small generator for long power outages, it would keep the refrigerator on and a couple lights and plugs active; I opted to crank it up and put it online. The power company would not reach our location for a few hours and probably not until tomorrow.

Just as I switched the power to generator, I heard pounding on my door. Outside was a thoroughly soaked Molly who was clearly scared from the fury of the storm. I opened the door and Molly leapt into my arms shivering from the soaking and from her fear. "This is a bad one isn't it Mister Jackson?"

Molly's clothes were saturated; she soaked me, dripped on the floor and was stiff with both cold and fear. "Molly, get in the bathroom, strip off those soaked clothes and have a hot shower. Hang up your wet clothes. I'll find you a sweatshirt and sweatpants for the night." 

Molly darted off to the bathroom and I found clothes for her to cover up after her shower. "Warm clothes are just outside the door, Molly. I'll make you a hot chocolate to warm up with." I heard the shower running and little sighs as she began to warm. There were a few screams when loud thunder cracked or lightning flashed close by.

I saw the bathroom door crack open as she reached for the clothes on the floor. She came out covered in my sweatshirt and sweatpants. I could not help but laugh at her petite frame disguised in my extra large clothes. "I hung my clothes on the shower curtain rod to dry. I bet you will complain just like dad does when he sees my clothes hanging in the shower." Just then lightning flashed and thunder cracked making the window glass rattle. Molly jumped into my arms again forgetting that my sweatpants were huge on her, they fell to the floor. With her arms around my shoulders, the sweatshirt rode up to expose her lower body to me.

I tried to pull her away and tell her to cover up; however, she was such a bundle of nerves, and she was completely unaware of her exposure. "Molly!" My strong voice tone got her attention. She realized what happened and went white in embarrassment. She quickly pulled the sweatshirt down and carefully squatted to retrieve the pants.

Molly began crying saying over and over she was sorry for being such a little girl and exposing herself to me. Now, fully covered, she ran to the bathroom and closed the door. She was crying hard and I felt very badly for her. "Molly, come out here. You did not do anything wrong and many people fear storms."

"I let you see my naked... You saw my..." Molly's crying did not subside. I busied myself making her bed. There came another crash of loud thunder and streak of lightning. Molly shot out of the bathroom. "How long will this storm continue, Mister Jackson? I can't believe I am this frightened."

The storm was one huge cell and would probably continue for a while. The time was only 7:45 but seemed later with power out and everything in darkness. I knew the storm could continue for another hour or more if the radar images were right. "It is a big storm Molly, it could last for a while yet. Do you want some hot chocolate or tea to help you relax? And, what happened to calling me Jack?"

"I should go. I hate myself for being silly and letting you see me like you saw me."

"No, you will not. You will stay here where there is a little power and some safety if the storm gets worse. Hot chocolate or tea?" I did not want her to go out in this storm as I knew there would be much tree damage and too easy to be hit by blowing debris. Another bright flash of lightning confirmed that Molly would not leave. The thunder that came with it earned me another embrace.

"Can we have tea with a little something strong in it, Mister, Jack?" I agreed and pulled a bottle of a smooth whiskey from my stash. After her accidental wardrobe malfunction, she kept one hand tightly around the waistband of my sweatpants as she moved to the kitchen table to sit.

Perhaps I made Molly's tea a little too strong, her neck and cheeks flushed with color as she sipped the whiskey laced tea. However, she did begin to relax somewhat. "Are you feeling more brave now, Molly," I asked with a little laugh and smile.

"It is a little stronger than my dad lets me have, I am getting warm all over. Jack, can I ask you a personal question?" I consented as long as she accepted that I would not answer if it were too personal. "Why aren't you married? I mean, you are nice and I like being around you."

"I was married once but it didn't work out for either of us. I am happy being single. I enjoy having you around also, Molly, but nice is not the only characteristic for making a marriage. Why don't you date more?"

Molly must have known that question was coming as she quickly replied, "You know why already. I like being friends with all the guys around the lake. I suppose I haven't found the one who excites me. There are a couple guys I like and I have gone out with them to movies and dances. I just don't do 'friends with benefits'."

Molly always surprises me with her attitude toward dating and sex. I figured from her dating behavior that she is still a virgin and as that thought crossed my mind, I tried to shove it out of my mind only for my minds eye to replay seeing her cute bottom and trimmed pubic when my pants fell away from her body. I had to fight against the feelings growing in my pants.

The storm began to abate, the thunder claps and lightning flashes were far less strong and Molly relaxed more from the laced tea. Just when I was confident the worst of the storm was over, another strong roll of thunder and streak of lightning rocked the night. Molly jumped and launched herself onto my lap burying her head into my chest.

I wrapped my arms around her to give her comfort pulling her tightly against me. She wrapped her arms around me also and wiggled against my lap trying to hide from the storm. However, she caused a storm to rise in me and I am sure she knew it. "The big ones always scare me, Jack." In my present state, I was not sure what big ones she meant.

It was nearing 9:00 at night; the storm played itself out after almost two hours of its fury. Molly was resting on my lap; she stopped wiggling and my aroused state returned to normal. "Molly, I think the worst has passed. You can get up if you want to." The big question was, do I want her to get off my lap.

"If you want me to. But I like the feelings I have being this close to you, especially when I feel you holding me." Out of reflex action, I kissed the top of her head and pressed her head against my chest. Molly sighed in contentment; at least I hoped it was contentment. She wiggled on my lap again and made me stir in my shorts.

Molly did give up her seat on my lap when I complained I needed to use the toilet. Although she did get up, it was not until after she wiggled on my lap more making me react fully. She had to be doing it on purpose.

I spent several minutes in the bathroom taking care of the needs of nature and having a quick cold wash. I feared how I reacted to Molly and feared more that she did it on purpose. I remember her saying she liked how I held her and remembered the light kiss I gave the top of her head. I needed a little more cold water.

When I returned, Molly had curled herself on the pull out bed. She wrapped herself under the sheet and light blanket throw. "I am really sorry for being such a little girl Mister Jackson, ah Jack. These summer storms always frighten me. Is the TV connected to power so we can see the local stations?"




Mr. Jackson and Molly



I was glad she wanted a diversion from wiggling on my lap; I plugged the TV into a generator-powered socket and turned it on. One of the local weather forecasters was telling news of the storm's path and damage it caused. Then he said something I did not want to hear, "And, folks, it does not look like we are done. Another cell is headed this way, weaker but just as large. Be prepared for a long night."

"I don't like the sounds of that Jack. What will we do if it gets bad again?" Molly showed fear in her eyes although the expected wave would not hit for at least three hours and she would be asleep.

"I bet you sleep through the second wave," I told her. "Have another tea with a shot in it. If nothing else, it will calm you and relax you." I opted for whiskey and water over tea and Molly asked for the same.

"I enjoy you treating me as though I'm an adult. I only have drinks once in a while when my parents let me. I don't even drink beer at bonfires even when my friends do. I don't like the whole hangover thing." I made Molly's drink much weaker than I made mine.

We talked for another hour before she decided to go to sleep. Molly used the bathroom and returned to the living room. She curled up on the bed and closed her eyes. I said my good night to her and headed off to the bathroom and my bedroom. I hesitated as I closed the bedroom door considering weather to lock it. I turned the lock.

I did not hear the second wave; however, Molly did. I woke to her pounding on my door; the bedside clock read 2:18. I stumbled to the door and unlocked it; Molly leapt into the room and flung herself on my bed. "Hug me, make me safe," she sobbed.

In her haste, Molly forgot that my sweatpants were loss on her; she exposed herself to me again. She was shivering and scared; I had to calm her so we could get some sleep. I settled back on the mattress and no sooner had I lain down, did Molly pull herself tightly into me. Her torso next to mine, her firm breasts rubbed my arm, I struggled to move my arm so I could wrap it around her shoulders. "Molly, pull up your pants, my pants."

She reached a hand between us to pull up her pants and doing so, she brushed her palm along my thigh much too close to my reacting cock. "I'm safe now Mister, Jack. Please pull me close to you." My arm around her shoulder tightened around her and the swell of her breasts against my side and chest felt wonderful. "Two arms, pull me real tight. I don't want to be scared any more."

If I wrapped my other are around her, she would feel my dilemma and be more scared than the storm made her. She is an innocent young woman but tonight, she was innocent and scared. I did not move and Molly did. She put her arm around me at about my diaphragm level and pulled me into her.

"This is good enough, Molly. We have to get some sleep." I relaxed and was drifting back to sleep when another loud clap of thunder and bolt of lightning hit at the same time. Molly's body was instantly on top of mine shivering. 

I fretted my next move. I was starting to get angry at her display of fear of a simple storm and angry at my pure male reaction to her young body. I wore only my boxers and there was no doubt she could feel me growing under her. "Molly, are you aware that you are laying on top of me and I am almost naked? You need to go back to your bed." Molly shook her head no.

The next words from Molly sent shivers through me as if I received a jolt of lightning. "Do you feel my body, Jack? I feel yours and I'm not frightened anymore. I feel womanly, and you feel manly."

I had to stop this before it went further, before the point of no return overtook us. "Molly, I am supposed to watch out for you. We are not supposed to be in bed like this. You are not frightened any longer, so get up and go to bed." I tried to roll her away; however, she locked her arms around me and rolled together, my body on top of hers.

I tried to snake my arms up her body to get leverage and break her grip. In doing so, my hands made contact with her breasts. They were full, firm, and her nipples were stiff with excitement. Involuntarily, my hands squeezed her breasts and Molly responded with a sigh. I did get the leverage, broke Molly's grip, and jumped up from the bed. I made no effort to hide my semi erect cock. 

In all our rolling around, Molly exposed herself again; she made no effort to cover herself. "I'm not frightened any more, Jack," came her words soft and sensual. "I want to be a woman, Jack. Make me a woman." 

I dare not crumble, yet I struggled. "Molly, no! I will not do what you want!" I tried to defy her and realized my tone was not convincing. "I am more than forty years older than your young 19 years. You can't possibly want an old man over all the young guys you tease with your almost nothing there bikinis."

"Are you admitting you like seeing my body? I want you to see all of me, Jack." Molly began lifting the sweatshirt up her body; her breasts came into full view, perfect in every aspect. Over her head went the sweatshirt. I darted from the bedroom trying to escape. Where could I escape in this small house?

The storm outside was losing strength and I knew I was losing strength as well. Molly, young, polite, and shy Molly was alive and offering me her beautiful virgin body. It was after 3:00 in this stormy morning when Molly came from the bedroom wearing nothing telling me that my resolve was weakening. "I am not afraid anymore, Jack. I am not afraid of the storm outside or the storm inside me or the storm inside you. Please don't be afraid of me."

Molly, naked and beautiful, stood feet away from me. In my briefs, it was clear my arousal was obvious. Molly took a couple steps toward me, paused, and took a couple more steps. I brought my hands to my waist trying to take a defiant stand. She took another step and my hands pinched the waistband of my briefs. Her next step closed the gap between us. My arms pushed my briefs over my hips, they fell to the floor; my cock sprang into view and Molly inhaled deeply.

If I had any resistance left, it disappeared when Molly pressed her body against mine. She stood on her toes capturing my cock between her thighs rubbing against her virgin pussy. She whimpered, moaned, and sighed in one breath. I felt the stiff tips of her nipples press into my chest. I felt her lips on mine and we kissed, kissed with passion. Molly, still on her toes, rubbed herself against my cock and I came. My cum shot between her thighs, streamed down her legs, coated her pussy and butt. "Next time, shoot it in me, Jack."

"I can't shoot in you. You could get pregnant. Your young life could change forever. I don't want that responsibility." She kissed me and kept my cock secure between her legs. It almost seemed Molly was close to her own orgasm. I slid my hands down her back to her butt to hold her and give her leverage. I felt the thick wetness of my cum as I pulled her into me. 

Molly cried out as an orgasm exploded within her. She became rigid as her muscles contracted then she went limp. I held her and guided her to the pull out behind us. Slowly I bent to let her lay back against the mattress. As I let her lie, she did not release me, my body and hers were locked together as I found myself laying on top of her. "I won't get pregnant, I'm protected."

"Molly, it is not too late to back off and save your virginity for someone your age, someone you can have a long life with." Although the words left my mouth, I did not believe them. I knew that the hardness returning to cock would soon have a wet warm virgin pussy wrapped around it.

Instinct took over Molly, her legs began opening. Soon her legs were open wider than my hips and my cock pressed against her opening. "Molly, use your hand. Guide me where you want me."

I rose up on my arms to view the naked girl beneath me. Her hand found my cock and pulled it and me closer to her opening. I pushed gently into her unspoiled opening and encountered her barrier. "Not too late, Molly. We don't have to do this."

"Yes we do." Molly pushed up against me and forced herself to break her hymen. I pushed against her push and Molly was no longer a virgin; I was fully in her in one stroke. "I didn't think it would hurt that much," Molly gasped. I assured her we would take a slow pace until she felt better. I held my position waiting Molly's signal to begin the ancient ritual of sex.

"Oh my god, it feels so good in me," Molly finally exclaimed. "Please, Mister Jackson," the little girl was back although the woman had my cock in her. "Please do it to me."

"Molly, we do this together, I do not do it to you. If a guy only wants to do it to you, run from him. Only make love with someone not to someone."

I began to pull back and saw concern in Molly's eyes. "Is it over already, Mister Jackson." 

I withdrew a bit more then pushed back in. "No, dear Molly, it just started." 

The glee in her face was something I had never seen. I could not tell where the girl ended and the woman began. Molly looked happier than a child with a new puppy while reacting to her first sex like a woman in need of satisfaction. I took slow deliberate strokes and Molly caught my rhythm. 

I heard moans of pleasure build as we made slow love. Molly built to another orgasm just as slowly as we stroked each other. She pulled her legs up close to her chest and I hooked my arms behind her knees. "Here it is, oh god, its here, I'm cumming Jack. Make me cum. Cum in me." 

The final bit of resolve I had completely dissolved. I drove my cock into her depths and sprayed her inner goodness with my cum. We cried out our orgasm together. The storm outside blasted us with one last jolt of thunder and bright flash of lightning. Molly jerked and spammed as she felt the final throws of our mutual orgasm.

"I like thunderstorms now Mister Jackson. They feel like orgasms."

**********

Part 2: Losing Naivete 

It was close to 4:30 in the morning when we fell into a deep sleep on the pull out bed. The generator continued to power necessary appliances and lights. It had enough fuel to run almost 24 hours or about another 12 hours before needing refilled.

I jerked awake when I heard Molly scream. She woke and saw the blood stain from her hymen breaking. She saw dried caked blood and cum between her legs, the surprise mess is not what she expected. "Molly, Molly, settle down. That is virginal blood and completely normal after first time sex." I pulled her close to me and kissed her a chaste good morning kiss.

"I'm gross! You must think I am real ugly now." I drew her on top of me and looked on her face and into her eyes. "Don't look at me, I look bad."

My cock began a steady rise and rubbed against her leg. "Molly, do you feel anything between us? Do you feel something getting hard? I want to make love with you again. You are pretty not ugly." I began sawing my cock against her leg and saw her nipples stiffen.

"Oh god, Jack, its going to happen again. You are going to make me cum again aren't you? Do girls always get wet as I am?"

"Use your hand again, line me up where you want me and slowly slide down." Molly was very damp and my cock slipped into her. She controlled the speed of our sex, mostly holding my full length in her, rubbing her clit against me. 

"You feel good inside me," Molly panted. She started moving up and down on me building speed. Her strokes became forceful, her face showing pleasure. Her breasts bounced with her every move. I used my hands to cup her breasts and each time she fell on my cock, I pinched her nipples making her cry out. 

Molly took me into her as deeply as she could and squeezed, she began to cum. She sighed, took a breath, gripped me cock, went rigid, and then screamed loud enough that anyone outside could hear. I was ready to cum also and as her screaming calmed, I let another flood of my cum fill her tiny pussy. Molly had another orgasm when mine hit, she squeezed and cried out again. "I keep cumming Jack. Cumming more, oh, Jack, cumming."

Molly's orgasms spent themselves; she fell forward on my chest still panting and recovering. My cock shrunk from her pussy, slipping out of her, I felt a rush of our mixture spill from her. "Molly, I don't want to spoil the moment, we need to shower and dress. You need to go take your pill and I have to check the power."

"What pill," Molly breathed. "I don't use any pills."

I guess shock registered on my face because Molly noticed it. "Molly, you said you are protected. You don't use birth control? You could already be pregnant. What does protected mean to you?" I was in near panic mode.

"I am protected and I don't use birth control pills. My mother told my doctor that I need something called a trans dermal so my period is under control. It is birth control; I'm just not taking pills. My mom thinks I don't know what it is but I looked it up. She thinks birth control makes a girl have sex. I am na‹ve about some things but I know some stuff too."

That revelation put me at ease again, I hugged and kissed Molly, and told her to shower first and get dressed. I slipped on some shorts to check power. Power was on so I switched the main on and went out to turn off the generator and refuel it. The two storms dumped a lot of rain but the winds did not do much damage except blowing some dead limbs out of trees.

Back inside, chores needed doing. The pull out bed needed sheets removed, blood and cum stains soaked, and the bed hidden away. I heard Molly in the shower as I passed into my bedroom. I straightened the bedroom and put the sweats Molly wore into the laundry sack. When molly came from the bathroom, she wore her own clothes dried from yesterday's soaking.

"Your turn Mister Jackson, ah Jack. Do I look different? I think I am the same but my body tells me I am different. Will everyone know I changed?" She was innocent and sweet in her questioning, still the girl in a body changed into womanhood. 

"We both know you are different. The bigger question is, do you want people to know? Do you want guys following you hoping to win your attention? Care for your body, Molly. Don't give yourself to a guy without knowing he cares. If a guy wants you for a conquest, do not give in. Be the girl you were before the storm that erupted in your body. I am going to shower now and after we can go to 'The Hideout' for lunch."

"After lunch, I have to see the gang. We are going swimming and paddle boating. You can sit on your deck and watch. I will be back here tonight in case there is another storm." I knew a storm brewed somewhere in the world but not as strong as the storm in my pants. Tonight I need some chemical enhancement and Viagra is in bedroom.

I showered quickly so we could get lunch and Molly could get back to join her gang of friends for the afternoon. I cleaned up the storm mess until the hot afternoon summer sun made yard work unbearable. I took Molly's suggestion and sat on the deck watching the neighborhood teens at play in the water. The kids were good kids and they excluded no one. They landed paddleboats on my beach area and called out greetings. I yelled back offering soft drinks or tea. Some came up and talked for a while, others did not, and it was all good.

Molly, and most of the girls, wore bikinis that were mostly modest considering what I see, or perhaps don't see, on some women. Molly, with three others, two boys and a girl, came up to the deck for an iced tea. I knew each and called them by name. "You're a cool neighbor, Mister Jackson," the other girl said. "Heck, yeah," agreed one of the boys. "I bet you played hard when you were younger, didn't you Mister Jackson," the other boy said with a laugh. "I think he plays hard now," said Molly knowing that I would get her double meaning.

"Hell, I can't remember being young; however, I work hard at work and sometimes play hard," I replied seeing Molly blush a little. "How about this, have all your friends check with your parent units for permission and I'll host a barbeque for the kids about 7:30. No alcohol allowed, soft drinks, burgers, brats, chips, and maybe some healthy salad. The whole gang, let me know numbers."

Molly and the other girl began bouncing around happy, the two guys showed less emotion but I knew that as a typical guy reaction. When I learned the numbers, I went shopping.

Throughout the evening with all the kids around, I noticed Molly paying close attention to one boy, holding hands, hugging occasionally, and pecking each other with little kisses. Of course, other boys and girls did the same; I concluded Molly was playing a role not to raise suspicion. 

The party group began breaking up around 10:00 with some going home and others drifting off elsewhere. Molly and the boy she paid most attention left together; my hopes for a sex filled night looked dashed. 

By 11:00pm, everything was cleaned up. Paper plates, cups, plastic ware in the garbage, leftovers stored away, or in the refrigerator, I decided to get ready for bed. I was tired after the previous night and the storm.

I locked up the house and headed off to bed. I hoped for sex but knew a 19-year-old girl would ultimately want to be with someone her own age. I wondered why she asked me to take her virginity. I faintly heard a knocking at the door; the time was about 11:45.

Stumbling through the house, I saw the figure of Molly outside and opened the door for her. "Thought you might not knock tonight, you were very chummy with Andy."

"I like Andy a lot. If I had a boyfriend, he would be the one. Sorry I am late, I had to go home to take care of a few things and make myself pretty for you. We can make love again can't we?" Molly's arms were around my neck and she swayed against me as though slow dancing. I needed a wake up and a Viagra.

Molly reached for a table lamp and switched it on. She was right about thing, she made herself pretty, pretty sexy. I set water to boil for a coffee and disappeared to get a Viagra. "Late nights are not good for an old man, Molly. I will have a coffee and pick me up. I want to share as much as of me with as I can, all night if you want, all night if I can."

"Will you teach me oral, Jack? I want to try 69, too. I want to try everything." Molly danced and swirled around the kitchen living room. She followed me to the bedroom where I swallowed a Viagra. "Is that a Viagra, Jack? I've seen my father use it on nights he and mom have date night." I just smiled and nodded yes.

**********

Part 3: The coming to grips

For the next two weeks, Molly was my only houseguest. She wanted to experiment with everything sexual. For 14 days, sometimes five times a day and night Molly wanted sex. The day her parents came home, Molly was in my bed having an afternoon quickie. They must have heard her orgasm and seen her leave my house giving me a hot sensual kiss. If they did hear and see, they said nothing.

Molly spent the rest of the summer hanging out with friends; they swam, went paddle boating, and fished. My vacation ended although I lingered at the lake hoping for more of Molly's loving; it never happened.

Molly began dating Andy and they developed a healthy relationship. I saw the fondness they had for each other grow. One afternoon, Andy and Molly stopped to talk with me. "Mister Jackson," Andy began, "Molly leaves for college next weekend. We enrolled in the same college. Are we making a mistake if we decide to live together?"

I looked at both of them realizing that another night with Molly would never happen. "You have to choose what is best for you, you both. You cannot try hiding from your parents and family. If you are not honest with them and each other, there will always be suspicion. My personal opinion is waiting a couple years before making that move. Date, be in love, enjoy each other and you will know when it is right to open up about living together."




Mr. Jackson and Molly



Molly smiled shyly, "How honest should we be, Mister Jackson?"

"Molly, be totally honest. Tell Andy why you know me as Jack." Color drained from her face as she looked at Andy. The look on Andy's face registered his understanding. "If you both love each other, you can overcome anything together. If not, well, you know the alternative."

They left walking heads bowed, toward the lakeshore. They sat on a bench for over an hour. I could see them talking in what must have been a very serious conversation. I glanced again to see them walking together toward the far shore where there were no houses, lots of trees, and high grass.

Toward evening, I saw them again walking around the shoreline from the secluded side. They came up to my deck when they saw me still out working in the yard. "Come drink some iced tea Jack," Molly called.

I walked up to them and Molly flung herself at me, hugged me close, and said thank you. Molly smelled of sex, I imagined her pussy dripping cum into her bikini bottom. We drank iced tea and as they left, I winked at Andy and told Molly to freshen up or she would have some explaining to do at home. They ran off to jump in the lake for a final quick swim.

**********

Part 4: Moving on

After this summer, I decided to sell the house on the lake. I spent the winter weekends cleaning the house, moving or selling furniture I would not need or use in town. I spent spring weekends making the outside have more curb appeal and got actively involved in selling the property. Molly and Andy did not come home for summer. I heard they decided to work in the college town for the summer and save some money for later.

The lake property sold in a bidders war for much higher than my asking price and the profit went to investments for my retirement. I even sold my business and became a retiree. Molly and Andy married a few years later.

Late one evening, a knock came to my door, outside stood Molly. I opened for her and she came quietly in. "Jack, Andy and I discussed a problem he has. He told me to ask you for help. Will you put a baby in me?"



Mr. Jackson claims Marie



Author's note: this story is a sequel to "Mr. Jackson Marks Marie," but may be read independently. 




Over the next few days, Marie couldn't get her encounter with Mr. Jackson out of her head. Every night she replayed the way he'd battered her petite pussy with his gigantic cock while holding her hair and growling filthy things in her ear. She longed to feel the slap of his hand across her ass again. She needed to be manhandled. Taken.

Her boyfriend Shawn was of no use in that regard, and besides, Mr. Jackson had made her promise not to fuck Shawn again without his explicit permission. So far, she had kept her promise. At first it wasn't very hard. Shawn had never really satisfied her, even though she found him physically attractive. He was just a little too passive for her liking. 

After more than a week without hearing from the Jackson family, Marie was beginning to get desperate. Sure, she could make herself cum, but it wasn't enough. She was worried. What if Mr. Jackson had come clean and told his wife everything? What if they'd found another babysitter and she'd never see him again? 

Friday afternoon came and went without the Jacksons calling her to babysit. She was beginning to get depressed, and horny beyond belief. When Shawn called and asked her if she wanted to go out that night, she eagerly agreed. What was the use in resisting any further? She needed to be fucked, even if she knew it wouldn't satisfy her. Anything was better than nothing.

Shawn picked her up and they went to his house. His parents were out for the night, so they were all alone. They watched a movie together and cuddled on the couch. It was clear what Shawn wanted, and Marie was finally ready to give it to him. But she had to try and see if she couldn't get him to be a tad dirtier. 

"Look at that girl," she said, indicating the female protagonist in the movie, "she's dressed like a total slut. Someone needs to teach her a lesson."

Shawn chuckled.

"What kind of lesson?"

"I dunno," said Marie, cuddling in closer to him, "I think a good spanking for starters."

She took his hand and moved it to her ass as she cuddled him. He just held it there, cupping her ass cheek, saying nothing. Totally clueless.

She kissed him and rubbed her tits against his chest. 

"You feeling horny baby?" she whispered.

"Oh yes," he said, guiding her hands to his package.

"I'm going to be a bad girl for you tonight, Shawn," she whispered.

"What do you mean? What are you going to do?"

"Whatever you want me to do," she said.

"Um, give me a blowjob?" 

"Why don't you make me do it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Take control. Make me give you what you want."

"But I can't do that!" he protested, "I love you."

"I want you to," she pleaded, "I need it."

"I'd like a blowjob please," he said, trying to sound authoritative. 

His voiced seemed passionless, almost frightened. Oh how she longed for Mr. Jackson!

"Oh yeah?" said Marie, "what if I don't want to give you one?"

"I guess," he hesitated, "I guess you don't have to then."

She sighed. 

"No, don't worry, I'll give you one," she said, kissing him sweetly.

They made out for a few minutes, then he fingered her until she faked an orgasm. 

She sank her head into his lap and did her duty. After swallowing his cum, she went to the bathroom where she bent over the sink, rubbing her clit until she reached orgasm. 

"Fuck me Mr. Jackson," she whispered, "take my little pussy, it's yours!"

When she emerged from the bathroom, she had a smile on her face.

"You can take me home now Shawn," she said.

When they pulled up in her parents' driveway, Marie's heart skipped a beat. Mr. Jackson's car was parked where her mother's car usually went.

"Looks like your parents have company," said Shawn, kissing her goodnight.

"Um, yeah," said Marie, faking nonchalance.

"Goodnight," he said.

"Goodnight," she said, slamming the car door behind her, her heart racing as she walked up the steps and turned her key in the lock.

There was light, laughter and the sound of the television set coming from the downstairs den.

"Marie?" called her father, when he heard the door, "is that you?"

She didn't respond. Her heart was pounding too hard at the prospect that Mr. Jackson might be in her house, watching TV with her father. What would she say to him? 

"Marie," called her dad, "come downstairs and say hi!"

She walked to the edge of the stairs, then took them one at a time, feeling the moistness between her legs spread. Oh god, she thought, he's down there, isn't he?

When she turned the corner and entered the basement den, her father and Mr. Jackson looked up at her from the couch in front of the TV set. They were watching a basketball game together.

"Hey honey," said her dad, "I thought you'd like to say hi to Mr. Jackson. He came over to watch the game."

"Hi Mr. Jackson," she mumbled, barely able to meet his gaze.

"Hi Marie," he said, "I haven't seen you since the barbeque! How've you been?"

"Fine."

"How's that boyfriend of yours? Shane? No – Shawn?"

"Shawn," she said, "he's fine."

"What did you two do tonight?" asked her dad.

"Just watched TV at his place."

"Ha ha," laughed Mr. Jackson, "I know what that means at your age."

"That's all we did, honest," mumbled Marie, blushing and looking at the floor, "it was nice to see you."

She turned and left the room, heading up to her bedroom. She closed the door and lay back on her bed. The mere sight of the handsome older man had gotten her wet again, and the sound of his voice had made her almost lose control entirely. 

She kicked off her shoes and pulled her panties down her legs partway so her clit and pussy were accessible. With one hand she reached under her sundress and played with her nipples while the other hand raced across her clit.

She was on the verge of coming, imagining herself under Mr. Jackson, when she heard the sound of a car in the driveway.

He's gone, she thought to herself. On the one hand, she was relieved. Having Mr. Jackson in her house made the sexual tension almost impossible to take.

On the other hand she was disappointed. Shouldn't he have at least tried to see her? Had she done something wrong? Was she just a one-time fling for him and nothing more?

Just then, the hinges of her bedroom door creaked. A shot of adrenaline coursed through her body. 

"Hey!" she yelled, thinking that for some unfathomable reason her father had opened her door without knocking.

But even through her haze of arousal and surprise, she discerned that the intruder was not in fact her father, but rather Mr. Jackson.

"But –, you –," she was stammering uncontrollably. "just left," she said, frantically trying to pull her panties up and cover herself. 

"That was your Dad's car," he said, matter-of-factly, as he stepped all the way inside the room and shut the door behind him.

"He should be gone for a while. He's picking up some beers for us at the grocery store. By the way," – he unbuckled his belt – "does he know what a slut he raised?"

He stepped forward towards the bed and put his huge hand on hers, preventing her from pulling her panties back up. Instead, he yanked them down her legs roughly, pulling them over her thighs and off her ankles. He bunched them in his hands and brought them to his nose, taking a long sniff.

"My, my, Marie! It smells like you're quite aroused. You didn't fuck that wimp of a boyfriend, did you, you little whore?"

"No, sir," she stammered. Her pussy was positively on fire, but it was as if she was paralyzed. 

"Don't lie to me, slut. I know what a little whore you are, remember?"

Before she could tell what was happening to her, she found herself facedown and ass-up on her bed, her torso supported by two pillows. Mr. Jackson held both of her hands behind her back with just one of his own.

"What are you doing?" she moaned.

She heard the tearing of fabric from somewhere behind her, then felt Mr. Jackson loop something around her wrists. In the blink of an eye, she had both hands tied securely behind her back.

She wriggled in vain, attempting to escape.

SMACK! 

His powerful hand came down across her ass. It was what she had been craving for days, but it still stung like hell.

"Ouch!"

"Tell me the truth, slut! Did you fuck him? Did you let that wimpy fucking boyfriend touch your pussy?"

"Na na no –," she moaned, still wriggling against her bonds.

"I'm not sure I believe you, slut." 

She heard a whipping sound as he pulled off his belt.

"Please no, Mr. Jackson," she moaned, guessing what was going to come next, "it'll hurt too much!"

He rubbed the smooth leather of his belt sensually across her ass.

"Just tell me the truth, Marie," he growled, "did you suck his puny little cock?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"That's a good girl, Marie. You should always be honest with me."

He massaged her ass with one hand, while rubbing the leather belt across her pussy.

"Such a cute little ass," he said, running his hand along it, "such a shame I'm going to have to redden it with this belt."

"Mr. Jackson, no!" she cried, "I told you the truth!"

"Yes," said Mr. Jackson, "but that doesn't change the fact that you sucked your boyfriend's cock without my permission."

"But you only said," she stammered, "that I couldn't let him fuck me."

"Close enough," said Mr. Jackson.

Marie felt a slight gust of air as he raised the belt.

SMACK!

"OWW!" yelled Marie, "that fucking hurt!"

"It was supposed to, you little whore," Mr. Jackson growled.

SMACK!



SMACK!



SMACK!

He delivered three more blows, drawing out each pause between them, savoring the silence and the tension that ensued from Marie's uncertainty about when and where he would strike next.

She was whimpering now, in pleasure and pain, tears in her eyes, and so close to coming she wanted to beg him for release.

He had mercy on her for the moment and ran his hands over her reddened ass, massaging away the sting that the belt had left. But her relief lasted only a moment.

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!

He teased her between strokes, running the belt along her pussy slit, tapping her clit with it while he put one finger in her pussy.

"Please," she whimpered, tears streaking her cheeks, "please let me come."

"Hmm," said Mr. Jackson, "that's certainly a thought. But what are you going to do for me in return?"

"I'll, I'll, let you fuck me," she gasped.

Mr. Jackson laughed.

"You'll let me fuck you? I think you've forgotten who's in charge here, Marie. I own this pussy," he drew back the belt, "remember?"

SMACK! 

SMACK!

SMACK!

This time, the blows came in sharp succession, and there was no time for her to catch her breath between them. She sobbed as she registered the shock of the sting. 

"Please, please," she cried, "let me come."

"You really do want to come, don't you slut?"

"Yes sir," she moaned.

"Let's see how bad you really want it."

"I'll do anything. Please let me come sir."

"Anything?"

"Anything!" 

Marie was desperate now, longing to be filled with his big hard cock.

"Admit that your boyfriend will never satisfy you like I will. Admit that you're really in love with my cock," said Mr. Jackson.

"What? But I love him!"

"Sure you do. But part of you wants to show him how you really need to be fucked."

"What? No!" 

She couldn't believe the filthy implication behind Mr. Jackson's words. Did he have no limits? No sense of decency? But when she flashed back in her mind to being taken in the bathroom while his wife and her boyfriend were outside, she realized that she was not entirely blameless herself. 

God, she thought, I really am a filthy whore! The thought of showing Shawn how a real man takes a woman ignited a raw, carnal fire within her.

"I admit it," she whispered, "I want to show him."

"Well then, I guess you're going to have to babysit tomorrow night."

"Ok," she whispered. 

The gravity of the situation began to sink in. Had she really agreed to fuck Mr. Jackson in front of her boyfriend? The thought seemed insane! But she was so aroused now that she wasn't sure if she cared! She wondered what Mr. Jackson had planned for her tomorrow night. 

"But I'm forgetting something, aren't I?" said Mr. Jackson, climbing onto the bed and positioning himself behind Marie, rubbing his cock along her engorged slit, "you wanted to be fucked, didn't you?" 

SMACK! 

His hand cracked down across her ass, and he grabbed a handful of her hair.

"Didn't you, slut?"

"Yes", Mr. Jackson," she moaned, part of her still in denial that she was about to be taken roughly by a handsome older man, in her own bed, in her parents' home. How had the situation gotten this out of control? 

Mr. Jackson slowly pushed his member into her, one millimeter at a time. Each tiny movement seemed like it would split her in two. His cock was truly enormous.

"Tell me, Marie, do you like this?"

"Yes. it's. so. fucking. big," she panted as he pushed inside her, "I need it so fucking bad."

"That's right you do, slut."

He was inside her now, and began to work his magic once again, just as he'd done in the bathroom. Fully in control of the situation, he kept her guessing at the timing and strength of each thrust. All the while he had a tight grip on her hair, massaging and slapping her ass-cheeks with his other hand.

"You fucking love it don't you slut? Tomorrow we're going to show your fucking boyfriend how much you love this big dick."

"Yes," she moaned, "I need it so bad. I want to show him!" 

Marie couldn't believe she had just said something like that! But then again, Mr. Jackson had made her dirtier than she'd ever thought possible.

"God," she moaned, as Mr. Jackson increased the intensity of his fucking, "you're going to make me come. I'm going to come like a little whore all over your big fucking prick!"

"That's right whore," moaned Mr. Jackson, savoring the grip of her nineteen-year-old pussy, "come all over this fucking dick."

"OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD I'M COMING!" she moaned, fully out of control, her pussy spasming along the length of Mr. Jackson's stiff rod. 

"That's right you fucking slut," said Mr. Jackson, giving her ass a sharp slap, "I knew you needed this cock."

"UGGH!" 

Marie's orgasm felt like it would never end! How could she go back to Shawn after this?

Just then, there was a sound in the driveway. Her father was back. 

"Looks like you got off just in time," Mr. Jackson laughed, pulling his still-stiff rod out of her, "but you're not going to sleep tonight until you make me come, slut. I'll be back soon."

"Wait," said Marie, "you can't just leave me like this!"

Still ass-up on the bed, her freshly fucked pussy and belted buttocks were on lewd display. 

"What if my mom or dad comes in?" she protested.

Once again she heard the sound of ripping fabric.

She tried to roll over, but Mr. Jackson held her down effortlessly.

"I guess they'll see what a slut they raised," he chuckled, binding both legs firmly to the bedposts so that she was completely helpless.

"You sure do look pretty like that Marie. I wonder what Shawn would think?"

"Stop talking about him!"

"That's not what you said while I was fucking you," he said, wadding her panties in his hand.

"Open up, honey."

Before she knew what had happened, he had stuffed her panties in her mouth.

"That ought to keep you quiet for a while," he said, slapping her on her sore ass.

"MMM!" she protested. 

She could have easily spit the panties out, but she was enjoying playing the part of Mr. Jackson's whore a little too much for that, even if the precarious situation she found herself in terrified her. What if her mother wanted to come in to say goodnight?

Mr. Jackson flipped off the switch and left. The room was dark and silent.

Marie lay there on her stomach, reliving the events of the evening, her pussy exposed to the open air. 

She felt ashamed at how much the thought of showing Shawn how she needed to be fucked had turned her on. She wasn't a monster, or a sadist, was she? 

But there was another, even stronger emotion, one like she had never experienced for another man. It was a pure lust that could never be satiated, and it only knew one name: Mr. Jackson.

The longer she lay on her bed, the more aroused she became. Her erect nipples ached; her clit was hopelessly out of reach. 

Every now and then, the sounds of the two men laughing or cheering drifted up to her through the ventilation system. How long did a basketball game last? Marie wasn't sure. However long it was, it was too long. She was getting really wet again now, picturing the way Mr. Jackson had fucked her. 

But despite herself, she couldn't help but imagine the two of them on the Jacksons' bed, him bent over her, drilling her while Shawn watched from the darkened hallway, unable to stop the older man who now owned his girlfriend's pussy.

God, why did she think like that? It was so nasty and so wrong!

Just then, she heard another car pull into the driveway. A few minutes later, there were footsteps coming up the stairs. Her heart was beating so hard she could barely hear anything else.

She recognized the footsteps as her Mom, home from working late. 

Tears came to Marie's eyes. She sobbed on her panties at the thought of the humiliation that would ensue if her mother came in to find her 19-year-old daughter trussed up like a whore on the bed, her spanked ass in plain sight.

There was a faint knock at the door, followed by the gentle turn of the knob. It was all she could do not to burst out crying.

"Marie?" whispered her mother, "are you awake?"

Marie mustered everything in her power to stay silent.

Her mother stood there in the darkened doorway for a few seconds, then closed the door gently and tiptoed down the hall.

Marie's relief at not being discovered felt almost as good as an orgasm. She exhaled hard, moaning on the gag in relief, tears streaming down her face. 

But the relief soon turned to rage. What kind of man would put her in a situation like this? Was this the price she had to pay for raw, unbridled passion?

The longer she lay there, the angrier she became. 

She heard Mr. Jackson's car in the driveway. 

What the hell! Had he just left her there, tied to the bed? She began to wriggle against her bonds, trying seriously now to escape. She knew it was a matter of time before she'd be able to free herself, but she was still furious at having been left like this.

Suddenly, her door creaked open once again.

"Did you miss me, Marie?" whispered Mr. Jackson.

"You fucking bastard," she spat, "my mom almost found me. I thought you'd left."

"I had to park my car around the block so your dad would think I was gone."

Before she could respond, his hand was over her mouth. His other hand freed her legs. She began to struggle, kicking against him.

"There's no use, slut," he whispered, "I told you I was going to come before I left, and now I'm back to claim what's mine."

He untied her hands as well, then quickly peeled her dress over her head. Before she knew it, she was in his arms, then on her back on the floor, rough carpet against her naked skin. 

He pressed himself between her legs, still holding her mouth shut with one hand. His other hand reached up to free her tits from her bra. Once they sprang free, he managed to grab her wrists and hold both of them above her head with a single hand.

"Such incredible tits," he whispered, licking her erect nipples, teasing first one, then the other with his tongue. 

The house around them was still. The only sound was Marie's breathing, which seemed to accelerate each time Mr. Jackson kissed her nipples.




Mr. Jackson claims Marie



"See?" he said, "it's not so bad, is it?"

He released her hands, then reached down to unfasten his belt and pants. She felt his cock jut against her pussy opening once again. He teased her with it, running it along the length of her slick slit. He smacked her clit with his erection.

"Mmm," he whispered, "I'm going to enjoy this."

He was inside her with a single thrust. She gasped at his size, which still surprised her. He pressed her legs back as far as they would go, almost next to her ears. 

And then he fucked her. This time, it was clear that he wasn't trying to keep her guessing. He was simply taking her; using her for his own pleasure. And his pleasure dictated a nice hard fuck.

THWAP! THWAP! THWAP!

The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the darkened bedroom. Mr. Jackson's hand prevented Marie from crying out in pleasure as he pounded her pussy steadily. His other hand went from one nipple to the other, tweaking each in turn.

"Ugh," he groaned, "such a tight fucking slut. Getting fucked in your parents' house."

The attention that Marie's nipples were getting combined with the sensations of being taken hard against the floor were bringing her closer to yet another orgasm. 

"That's it, slut," said Mr. Jackson, feeling her body tense up, "come on this fucking dick."

She did. She held onto him for dear life as the pleasure washed over her body. He didn't let up on the pace of his fucking, even as her pussy gripped his cock even tighter. She had never felt like this before. As she basked in the afterglow of her latest orgasm, she knew that she was his and his alone. She would do anything he wanted her to.

Mr. Jackson continued to slam his cock into her, pushing her legs back even further.

"Ugh," he growled, "take this fucking cock. I'm going to flood your little cunt."

She groaned in encouragement as he plunged into her, faster now, on the brink of his own orgasm at last. 

Finally, he exploded inside her, his cock twitching so hard that her body flexed in sympathy with his contractions.

"Damn, Marie," he groaned, "that was incredible."

He gave her a peck on the lips before pulling out of her and standing up. 

"Don't forget that you're babysitting tomorrow night," he whispered, and was gone. 

Marie was left behind on the floor of her bedroom, legs spread, her back and backside burning, his seed slowly spilling from inside her. 

She couldn't remember ever feeling so exhausted, or so satisfied. She lay there gathering her wits for a few moments longer as images of Mr. Jackson's muscular body pumping into her flashed before her eyes. She couldn't wait for her babysitting gig tomorrow.




Author's note: thanks to everyone who sent me feedback or commented on the first installment. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one as well. I intend to continue the story if there is enough interest!



Mr. Jackson Marks Marie



Marie was frustrated. Once again her boyfriend Shawn had failed to satisfy her. After some gentle foreplay followed by a few minutes of slow, passionless penetration, he'd collapsed beside her, then snuggled up close and fallen promptly asleep. 

Marie, of course, was just getting started. She silently teased her clit as her boyfriend snoozed next to her, bringing herself to a small but temporarily satiating orgasm. 

It wasn't that Shawn didn't care, she thought as she starred at the ceiling fan. He was very romantic. But maybe that was exactly the problem: the romance was great in everyday life, but in the bedroom she didn't want to be treated like his special princess. She wanted something a little more intense. Passionate. Forceful, even.

She and Shawn had been high school sweethearts, but now high school was over, and they would be starting college soon. She would be going to a private Liberal Arts College a few states away, and he had a track scholarship to the flagship state university. Despite the fact that Marie loved Shawn with everything in her 19 year-old heart, she wasn't sure if he'd ever satisfy her in the bedroom. 

"Wake up," she whispered, nudging him on the shoulder, "we can't be in here when the Jacksons come back!" 

They were lying on the bed owned by the family she babysat for, Carol and Mark Jackson, longtime friends of her parents. She shoved her groggy boyfriend off the bed, handed him his pants, grabbed the large beach towel that she'd place on the comforter to hide any telltale signs of their activities, and smoothed the bed back down. It looked as if nothing had happened. And almost nothing had, she thought bitterly.

She pecked Shawn on the cheek and promised to call him before she went to bed that night. He slipped out the back door and headed home on foot – he only lived a few blocks away. 

Marie put the big beach towel in the washer, then added a few assorted kitchen towels to make a full load. She babysat for the Jacksons so often she was almost a member of the family, and thought nothing of performing basic household chores. This made it easy for her and Shawn to do pretty much anything they wanted in the Jacksons' house while they were gone. Everyone was happy with the arrangement.

Marie went upstairs to check on David, the 5-year-old that she'd been hired to watch. He was sound asleep in his bed. Perfect. 

As she walked back down into the living room, she heard her cell phone ring. Expecting it to be Shawn, she was startled when she saw Mr. Jackson's name on the display.

"Hello?"

"Hi Marie," he said, "how are things going?"

"Great," she said, "David's been asleep for over an hour, and I just did a load of laundry."

"Hey, thanks!" said Mark Jackson, "I hope you know you really don't have to do things like that."

"I don't mind," said Marie.

"Look, we're having a good time here, and I was hoping – if it's ok with you – if we could stay out until 11 or so."

"Sure thing Mr. Jackson. I'd be happy to stay longer."

"Great, thanks!" he said, "and don't forget you can use the TV in the rec room if you want to watch movies. The instructions for the remote control are in the top drawer."

"Sure," she said, rolling her eyes at the fact that he thought she would need instructions for a remote control. He wasn't that old, was he? How old could he be? 35 at the most.

"And by the way," he continued, "feel free to have that boyfriend of yours over – Shawn, isn't it? – if you need company. Just behave yourselves, okay?"

"Mark!" she heard his wife scold him in the background. 

"Relax, I'm just teasing. You weren't offended, right Marie?"

Marie giggled.

"No Mr. Jackson. See you soon!"

She decided to watch TV in the basement rec room, just like Mr. Jackson had suggested. After locating the remote control, she sat on the big leather couch and tried for a few moments without success to get the TV set to come on.

After fiddling with the buttons for a few seconds more, she decided to consult the instructions after all.

The top drawer of the TV cabinet, which should have contained the instructions, was empty. So was the next drawer. The drawer after that, however, held the instructions, and a large shoebox labeled "old postcards."

It struck Marie as a strange place to keep postcards. Out of idle curiosity she lifted the lid of the box and saw exactly what the label said – an unsorted stack of what appeared to be antique postcards. 

She lifted a couple of the postcards out and sorted through them. They were from all over: Europe, America – even Australia. She sifted through them for a few minutes until her hand hit on something hard and plastic underneath the postcards. She pulled it out, dropping some of the postcards on the floor in the process, and couldn't believe her eyes. 

It was a porn DVD. The first she'd ever laid eyes on, in fact. It was entitled "Cock-stuffed Co-ed Babysitters." The cover was the most obscene thing Marie had ever seen. It featured several shots of young women in short skirts and pigtails engaged in all kinds of sex acts with well-hung older men. Her heart pounded as she examined the photos. In one, a girl was bent over the arm of a couch not unlike the one in the rec room, being penetrated from behind by a man holding onto her pigtails like handlebars.  

In another, a young woman was stretched out ass-up over an older man's lap. "She's been a naughty girl" said the caption. Was he giving her a spanking? Marie wondered.

In yet another, a third pig-tailed young woman was on her knees in front of an older man, her face covered in his cum. She smiled as she licked the last bit off the tip of his cockhead.

Marie was breathing fast, despite the absolute obscenity of what she had seen. Hands trembling, she opened the DVD case and popped the disc inside the player. Luckily, the instructions for operating the TV set turned out to be surprisingly simple, and she was able to bring up the main menu quickly.

Marie selected the first scene. The plot was ludicrous. A man came home early to find his babysitter masturbating in his bed. 

"Let me show you how to do that," he said, guiding her hand across her clit while he kissed her. 

Soon, the actress was on her knees in front of him, devouring the largest cock that Marie had ever seen.

"Oh that's so good," moaned the actor, "you're such a good little cocksucker."

When Marie heard the word cocksucker, her hand shot down to her clitoris, reaching under the waistband of the sweatpants she was wearing. She had never heard a man say something so dirty to a woman before, but it was turning her on like crazy.

"Suck that dick you little slut," groaned the man as he pushed his stiff rod into the young woman's mouth. Shawn would never have dared to be that forceful with her!

Marie was sopping wet now, and afraid she was going to have to change her panties. She didn't care.

The woman on screen knelt on the bed and let the well-endowed older man enter her from behind. 

"Give it to me Mr. Robinson," she moaned.

"You take this cock you little whore," said the older man, grabbing her hair with one hand and smacking her ass with the other.

Marie had two fingers inside her own pussy now, imagining herself on all fours and Mr. Jackson behind her, pulling her hair and calling her his little slut. She fucked herself in time with the couple in the video, while she used her other hand to play with her clit.

"Oh yes, Mr. Robinson," said the young woman on screen, "you're fucking me so good!"

Marie watched as the couple switched positions several times. They fucked with the girl on top, then on her side, then from behind again. Finally, the girl dropped to her knees in front of the man, looked up at him and said:

"Shoot your load all over me, Mr. Robinson. I want it sooo bad!" 

"Mr. Robinson" shot the biggest load that Marie had ever seen. It coated the young actress' face and chest. She looked like a total whore, kneeling there covered in his seed.

That must mean she did a good job, Marie thought.

She kept herself on the brink of orgasm as the second scene started. 

The plot was equally absurd. Once again, a man came home early to find his babysitter talking on the phone to her boyfriend.

"I told you no phone calls after 10 pm!" he scolded, "what if I'd had to reach you in an emergency?"

"Sorry Mr. P," she said, "I guess I've been very naughty. What are you going to do about it?"

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do about it," said the actor, a middle-aged man sporting a ponytail, "I'm going to spank your cute little ass."

"Oh Mr. P," she cooed, "please don't!"

Marie watched excitedly as the man pulled the young woman over his lap and lifted her short skirt to expose her pert young ass. As she saw the coed babysitter getting spanked, Marie knew that it was something she had to try.

"Oh Mr. P," said the babysitter, "I promise to be a good girl."

The scene ended much like the one before it: the couple fucked in several positions, and the man unloaded his cum onto the young woman's face.

Marie finger-fucked herself to orgasm, pretending she was playing out the scene in the video with Mr. Jackson. He was quite handsome, and exuded such a sense of authority that younger guys like Shawn lacked.

She made sure to clean everything up and hide all traces of her masturbation session before the Jacksons got home. By the time their car was in the driveway, she had folded the laundry and emptied the dishwasher. She was a model babysitter.

"Thanks so much for staying overtime," said Carol Jackson, clearly a little tipsy, "I'm in no condition to drive, so Mark will take you home."

"Great," said Marie, and grabbed her purse.

"Did you manage to entertain yourself tonight?" asked Mr. Jackson as they sat in the car. He looked as handsome as ever.

"Yeah," said Marie, "in fact, I took your suggestion and watched a movie."

"Oh?" said Mr. Jackson, his eyes on the road, "anything good?"

"Nah, just some stupid college sex comedy," said Marie.

"Any problems with the remote? That thing drives me crazy."

"Yeah it's really tricky," said Marie.

Then she decided to test the waters: "but the directions weren't where you said they were. They were in the bottom drawer. Near your postcard collection."

Mr. Jackson looked at her for a moment without betraying any emotion.

"Oh? I could have sworn they were in the top drawer. Anyway, you got it work, right?"

"Yeah. I looked at some of the postcards too."

"I inherited those things from my father. He said there were some dirty ones in there from before the war. You didn't see anything dirty in there, did you Marie?" his voice took on a flirtatious tone.

"Mr. Jackson!" she giggled, blushing.

"Have a good night," he said, as he pulled into the driveway. She made sure to fiddle with her house keys for a long time so he could get a good look at her ass in his car headlights.

The next time she babysat, Marie couldn't wait to get David to bed. As soon as the dishes were done, she went down into the den and found the DVD, right where it had been before. She got wet just thinking about watching the next scene.

It was another trite set-up: a frustrated husband drove his busty babysitter home at night after having a fight with his wife. 

"She just doesn't understand me," complained the emotionless actor.

"Oooh, but I know what men like you need," said the babysitter, reaching for his belt buckle. After going down on him in the parked car in the driveway for at least five minutes, the babysitter got out and bent over the hood of the car so her employer could fuck her.

As the well-hung stud pounded the young woman's pussy, Marie watched with rapt attention. Her fingers raced over her clit while she fucked her own pussy with the other hand. 

"Oh Mr. Jackson," she moaned, "fucking give it to me!"

She closed her eyes and imagined herself bent over the hood of the car, taking Mr. Jackson's big cock from behind. She made herself cum by slapping her own clit and thinking about the dirty things she'd like Mr. Jackson to say to her.

When she opened her eyes, the woman on screen was on her knees in front of the man, stroking his cock and looking up at him.

"Will you give me your cum, sir? Please?" she asked, her large tits exposed. 

The man didn't give her what she wanted right away. Instead, he grabbed onto her tits and teased them. He slapped his cock across her nipples and rubbed the head of it around them. The on-screen babysitter played with herself while he played with her tits.

Marie reached into her shirt and under her bra and began to play with her own breasts, which were quite large, but well-matched to her frame.

As the man on screen continued to please the woman, rubbing his cock all over her nipples and while she rubbed her own pussy, Marie was coming close to giving herself an orgasm through tit-play alone. How she longed for Mr. Jackson's strong hands to fondle her! Unable to stand it any longer, she reached down and brushed her clit lightly.

"UUUUGH!" 

Marie came for the second time that night, not even trying to suppress her earthy groan of pleasure.

On screen, the man was fucking the woman's tits, sliding his big cock between her boobs as she pressed them together. 

Marie thought that looked like fun. Just then her cell phone rang. It was Shawn.

She paused the video.

"Hey baby, I've been thinking about you," he said.

"Me too," she lied.

"Can I come over?" he asked.

"Maybe later," said Marie, looking at the paused video image, "I'm busy right now."

"Ok," he said.

As soon as she hung up she started the video again. The man jerked his big cock all over the babysitter's tits, coating them with long strings of sperm. She reached down and scooped up some of his sperm, putting it in her mouth and licking her fingers. Then she rubbed the rest of it into her tits, looking up at the man with wide eyes.

"Did I do a good job, sir?"

"Yes you did, honey," said the man.

What a nasty slut! Marie thought. 

That night, Shawn picked her up after the Jacksons came home. He drove her to her parents' house, where they made out while parked in the driveway. She unbuckled his pants and fondled his cock and balls. 

"That feels so good Marie," moaned the young man. 

She smiled at him and slowly put her head in his lap, taking his cock into her mouth, kneeling on the seat with her ass sticking up and out. 

"Mmm," she moaned on his cock, then took it out of her mouth for a second.

"Would you spank me while I suck your cock, Shawn?"

"What?" the young man was surprised.

"Slap my ass," said Marie.

"I'm not going to hurt you!" protested her boyfriend.

"But I want you to."

He half-heartedly tapped her ass with his hand.

"I'm sorry," he said, stroking her hair, "I just can't do it."

"That's ok," she sighed, and quickly made him come with her hands and mouth, swallowing his meager load in a single gulp. He made no moves to reciprocate.

"See you tomorrow," she said as she kissed him goodnight and went inside.

In her room, she spanked her own clit until she came, imagining Mr. Jackson standing over her, slapping his big hard cock across it. 

That night as she fell asleep she resolved to seduce him. She had a plan.

The next morning she put on a black bra and matching lace thong panties, then locked herself in the bathroom. With her digital camera, she took several shots in the mirror, pouting for the camera in the sexiest poses she could think of. 

She took photos with and without her bra. In some, she pretended to lick her own nipple. In others, she stuffed a few fingers in her panties and touched herself. She sucked on her own fingers like they were Mr. Jackson's cock. She made sure to get some close-up shots of her ass as well.

After carefully choosing around a dozen of the best shots, she erased the rest, put the camera in her purse and then headed over to the Jacksons' for her babysitting gig.

She spent the day playing in the park with David while Mr. and Mrs. Jackson went shopping. 

When they came home, Mr. Jackson offered to drive her home again.

"How are things going with that boyfriend of yours?" he asked as they drove.

"Ok," said Marie.

"Just ok? He seems like a nice guy."

"That's just the problem."

"What do you mean?"

"He's too nice."

"I think I understand," grinned Mr. Jackson.

There was a tense silence for the rest of the trip. Marie thought it was sexual tension, but couldn't be sure. There was only one way to find out, she thought: to put out the bait and see if he took it!

As she got out of the car, Marie slipped the camera into the pocket of the passenger-side door.

She thanked Mr. Jackson, closed the car door, then went into the house and up to her room to wait.

After about an hour, she dialed his cell phone.

"Mr. Jackson?"

"Hi Marie!"

"I think I left my camera in your car. Maybe in the pouch on the passenger side door. Could you check for me?"

"Sure thing. I'll call you right back."

Five minutes later, the phone rang.

"Found it!" said Mr. Jackson cheerfully.

"Oh thank god," said Marie, "there are some very private pictures on there, and I really didn't want to lose them. I would DIE of embarrassment if anyone saw them."

"No problem, Marie," said Mr. Jackson, "just pick it up tomorrow when you come by for the barbeque!"

With any luck, Mr. Jackson would look at her naughty pictures and get a glimpse of the true slut that his babysitter was. At least Marie hoped that's what would happen.

The next day the Jacksons were hosting a barbeque for their friends. David was at his grandparents, so Marie and Shawn were invited as guests. Shawn picked Marie up in mid-afternoon.

"Hey," he said, "that was a great blowjob the other night."

"I aim to please," she said.

"Sorry I didn't want to..."

"That's ok," she interjected quickly, "I understand."

"I just don't like that rough stuff."

They pulled into the Jacksons' driveway. 

Don't worry, thought Marie, I'm going to find someone who does.

The barbeque was already in full swing. Mrs. Jackson cooked the burgers while Mr. Jackson talked to the guests, beer in hand. He flashed Marie a smile as she and Shawn joined the party. 

While Shawn was distracted by a bratwurst, Mr. Jackson walked up to Marie, who had put on a strategically low-cut top and light summer skirt for the occasion.

"Want a beer?" he joked, pulling the bottle out of the way just as she grabbed for it. 

"Hey!" 

"You're not old enough," he teased.

"I'm 19. Old enough for some things."

"Like taking sexy pictures in the mirror?" he whispered.

Marie blushed.

He pulled her camera out of his pocket and handed it to her.

"For example." 

She smiled and started feeling bolder. Marie was astonished at how easy it was to flirt with Mr. Jackson.

"I should really tell your parents what naughty things you're up to, young lady," he scolded.

"Please Mr. Jackson," she smiled, "isn't there some other way?"

He leaned in close to her. A shiver went down Marie's spine. 

"Meet me in the first floor bathroom in five minutes," her whispered.

"Honey, we're out of ice! I'm going to go get some!" he called to his wife, then turned and headed for the house.

Marie's heart pounded. She glanced at her watch. Could she wait five minutes to follow Mr. Jackson into the house? It was so deliciously forbidden she could barely stand it. 

Shawn came over to her and put his arm around her. 

"Hey baby," he said, "what's the matter? You're shaking!"

Marie tried desperately to conceal her excitement.

"I guess I must be chilly," she said.

"Really? I'm hot," said Shawn, "should I take you by your place to get a jacket?"

"No!" she said, almost too adamantly, "I think I can borrow one of Mrs. Jackson's. She doesn't mind."




Mr. Jackson Marks Marie



She turned and walked towards the house, her hands trembling in anticipation. She opened the back door and stepped inside. The kitchen was deserted. She saw the door to the bathroom, off a hallway that led from the kitchen to the garage. It was closed.

She held her breath and turned the knob. 

Mr. Jackson was waiting for her. He grabbed her in his powerful arms and pulled her inside, shutting the door behind her and clicking the lock shut. His left hand shot up and covered her mouth while he pressed her against the door, reaching up under her blouse to expertly unhook her front-clasping bra.

Marie moaned as her luscious tits sprang free under her blouse.

"Is this what you wanted you little tease?" snarled Mr. Jackson, fondling her tits expertly with one hand while he continued to hold her mouth closed.

"Mmm," moaned Marie, as the older man kissed down the side of her neck, making his way to her chest.

Still pinning her against the door, he took his hand from her mouth and lifted her blouse, burying his face in her ample breasts.

"Oh Mr. Jackson," moaned the babysitter.

"Good thing I know how to handle cock-teasing sluts like you," he said, running his tongue over one nipple while tweaking the other with his other hand. He teased her tits for what seemed like several minutes. He sucked and squeezed her nipples, flicking them with his tongue or circling the areoles and nibbling them softly. Just when she thought he was finished he started all over again, pressing each nipple down with his tongue, then letting it spring back up, suckling it and then caressing it with a finger.

"Such nice fucking tits," he said, "just like in those pictures."

"Oh God oh god," was all Marie could say, abandoning herself to the skillful older man's efforts.

He reached under her skirt and tugged on her flimsy lace panties, pulling them down her thighs and slipping a finger inside her sopping pussy.

"You're a tight little slut," he said, "fucking you is going to feel great."

"Oh Mr. Jackson!" she moaned, bucking against his hand, trying to push herself down on his palm so that her clit could get the pressure it was craving.

Suddenly, he reached down with both hands and tore her panties apart, pulling them off her legs. 

Marie gasped.

"I'm keeping these as a souvenir," he said, grinning and slipping them into his pocket.

Mr. Jackson stood up straight and pulled Marie away from the door, turning her forcefully to face the bathroom window looking out over the backyard. The venetian blinds were closed. 

He grabbed her hair and pushed her head forward, bending her entire body in the process so her ass was sticking out, exposed to him. She rubbed against his bulging package, as if she were an animal in heat. With his free hand he pulled the cord hanging next to the window, raising the blinds a crack so she could just barely see out the window. 

"Look out there, Marie," he said, unbuckling his belt, "take a good look at your boyfriend. Out there stuffing his face while his slut of a girlfriend is in here, about to get stuffed with cock."

She gasped as she felt his hands flip her skirt onto her back and his hard cock slide along her wet pussy slit.

"But he must be doing something wrong I guess, or you wouldn't be in here bent over like this."

He spanked her clit with his erection, sending jolts of pleasure through her body. Marie began to whimper with pleasure.

SMACK!

He slapped her ass so hard she had a hard time suppressing a shriek. It felt wonderful, finally being taken in hand by a dominant older man who knew what he wanted.

He grabbed her hair once again and held her head eye-level with the crack in the window.

"Don't you feel like a slut, in here with me, about to get fucked, while my wife and your boyfriend are out there, totally oblivious?"

SMACK!

"Answer me, Marie!"

"Yes Mr. Jackson," she moaned, so turned on that she could have come at any moment.

"Yes what?"

"Yes I feel like a slut, sir!"

"Good. Now I'm going to show you how a real man fucks," he said, slapping her clit with his cock once again.

"Oh Mr. Jackson, show me please!"

He worked his cockhead a few inches into her pussy. Despite how lubricated she was, Marie gasped at his size as he entered her.

"You want this cock, don't you, you little slut?"

She could only moan in response.

SMACK!

He slapped her ass again.

"Tell me you want it, whore."

"Yes, Mr. Jackson," she moaned, still looking out the window at her boyfriend happily chatting with some other guests, "fuck me please. Give me your cock!"

He pushed further inside her. She had never felt so full. Her entire body tensed in anticipation of the orgasm she knew was inevitable. 

"It's only halfway in, slut."

SMACK!

As he spanked her yet again, she felt her pussy explode around his giant member. She screamed as she came, but Mr. Jackson expertly covered her mouth just in time. 

"That's a good slut," he said, pushing his cock all the way in to the hilt.

"UMMGM!" she moaned as she continued to come, totally out of control of her own body and the contractions of pleasure it was undergoing. Tears streamed down her face. She sobbed in pleasure and relief at finally being taken by Mr. Jackson.

"And now," he said, "I'm going to fuck you."

Never had Shawn come close to giving her the fuck that Mr. Jackson gave her now. It wasn't simply that he was thicker than Shawn – though that certainly made a difference – it was the way that he kept the speed and intensity of the fuck high, but still managed to keep her guessing. He didn't simply thrust straight ahead, but rather seemed to enter her each time at a different angle, making parts of her pussy come alive that she'd never felt before. The entire time he was in supreme control, taking her on his terms and in his rhythm, pulling her hair and smacking her ass with delight.

"You take this fucking dick you whore," he growled, his thighs slapping into hers, "I knew you wanted it. Teasing me with those pictures. Watching my pornos."

"Ugh, yes, Mr. Jackson," she moaned.

"You're paying the price you little slut," he said, reaching around to grab a handful of tit, "your pussy belongs to me now."

"Yes Mr. Jackson!" she moaned.

"Whose pussy is this, slut?" he pulled his cock out and spanked her pussy with his open hand.

"YOURS!" she shrieked.

She could still see her boyfriend and Mrs. Jackson mingling among the other guests, laughing and chatting while she was being treated like a dirty whore by Mr. Jackson. 

She was too turned on to feel guilty. 

On the edge of orgasm once again, she pleaded for him to keep going.

"Please don't stop Mr. Jackson. I need that fucking dick so fucking bad."

"Do you think you deserve to come again you little whore?"

"Oh yes, Mr. Jackson," she whined, on the verge of tears once more, "please please, please put it back in me."

He slapped her clit again with his cock, running it along her slit, teasing her.

"Give me that fucking cock Mr. Jackson," she moaned, too turned on to be embarrassed by the filth that was coming out of her mouth. 

"This is the biggest fucking cock you've ever had, isn't it you little slut?"

SMACK!

"Ow Mr. Jackson! Please don't stop," she said, gasping from the sting of his hand across her ass.

SMACK!

"Tell me this is the biggest cock you've ever had."

"It is! It is! It's the biggest cock I've ever had," she moaned, reaching down to touch her own clit. 

He grabbed her hand and pinned it behind her back.

SMACK! 

He spanked her ass again. It was burning hot now from the battering it had received.

"I told you I own that pussy, slut!"

"Yes sir. Please fuck me, sir. Please stick that fucking cock back inside me. Please take this pussy. I need that big fucking dick so fucking bad Mr. Jackson," Marie cried in desperation.

"You will not fuck that wimpy boyfriend of yours ever again without my permission," he said, rubbing his cock across her slit, "is that clear?"

"Yes sir," she moaned, "my pussy belongs to you sir. I will never fuck my boyfriend again without your permission. Please take it sir. Please fucking FUCK MEEEEE!"

She was wriggling in his grasp, trying to force her pussy back onto his dick. He laughed for a moment, watching her struggle, then he slammed his cock back into her, once again grabbing her hair and forcing her to watch the people outside.

"Such a fucking little whore," he said, "begging for this big fucking dick with all those people just outside."

"Ugh, ugh. Mmm hmm, Give. me. that. fucking. dick," she moaned in time with his thrusts.

Tears were streaming down Marie's face now. She had never experienced sex this explosive. She was totally under Mr. Jackson's control and she loved it. She was going to come again. Hard.

"Fucking come on this fucking dick you little whore," growled Mr. Jackson, slamming her pussy even harder but at a moderate, steady pace, "you know you love it!"

"Fuck I'm COMING!" she screamed, and her pussy pulsed uncontrollably, clamping down around Mr. Jackson's cock. He stuck a finger in her mouth to stifle her screams, then began to accelerate the pace of his fucking.

"I'm going to shot my load right in your slutty little pussy. Are you ready for it, Marie?"

"Yes sir," moaned Marie, still in the throes of orgasm, "shoot that load inside me."

"Uh UHH!" groaned Mr. Jackson, grabbing her hips with both hands and burying his cock to the hilt inside her young vagina. She could feel it twitching for what seemed like a full minute, shooting spurt after spurt of hot seed deep into her cunt.

He pulled out of her slowly. Marie's entire body was trembling uncontrollably.

"We're not done yet. Turn around and get on your knees, slut."

She smoothed down her skirt, turned around and knelt down in front of him, just like the girls in the movies. 

For the first time, she saw what had been inside her. Even in its limp state it was impressive. 

"Get that fucking cock in your mouth, slut."

She looked up at him and opened her mouth, sucking the traces of both of their juices from his rod. 

"You look like such a fucking filthy whore," he said, "on your knees with my cock in your mouth."

"Mmm, hmm," she moaned.

"Tell me what you are," he said, pulling his rapidly-hardening cock out of her mouth for a moment and stroked it.

"Tell me you're a whore," he commanded.

She looked down in embarrassment. It was too hard to say something so slutty to Mr. Jackson's face. She shook her head.

Mr. Jackson grabbed Marie's hair and pulled her head back. With the other hand, he grabbed his own cock, now back to its fully erect size, and slapped it across her cheek and lips.

"What are you, Marie?"

"I'm –," he cut her off with another smack of his cock.

"I'm a whore," she said.

"That's a good girl, Marie."

He pushed his cockhead back into her mouth, still holding her hair firmly.

"Open wide," he commanded, and Marie struggled to accommodate him.

"You're going to have to learn to suck a man's cock now," he said, pushing further into her throat. 

In her sluttier moments, Marie had trained herself to deepthroat with her favorite dildo, so she was up to the challenge of taking Mr. Jackson's cock as far as physically possible.

"So – Good – ," he gasped, as he watched his member disappear into his babysitter's throat, "you're better than I ever expected," he moaned.

She was proud of being able to please Mr. Jackson, and reached up to play with his balls. 

"God, Marie, you're driving me crazy," he said as she came up for air, teasing the underside of his cockhead with her tongue and looking up at him with her brown eyes.

"Am I doing a good job, Mr. Jackson?"

"Yes, Marie," he said, grabbing his cock and rubbing it all over her face while she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, "you're being a good little whore."

She took him back into her throat once more. He gripped her hair and held his cock in place until she started to gag.

"I'm going to mark you now, whore," he said, stroking his cock above her face, "beg me for this cum."

"Oh Mr. Jackson," Marie moaned, rubbing her own tits, "shoot that fucking cum all over me. I need it so bad."

She looked up at him in devotion as the older man began to spray her down with his cum. Despite having ejaculated less than a few minutes ago, he still had quite a load ready for her. It hit her forehead, mouth, cheeks and chest. She hoped he didn't get any in her hair. That would be hard to explain to Shawn!

"So good," he groaned, squeezing the last bits of cum from his cock into her mouth. 

Remembering the movie, she scooped up some cum from her chest and licked it off her finger, making sure to keep eye contact with Mr. Jackson the entire time she did so.

"Mmmm," she said.

"God DAMN it!" said Mr. Jackson, "you are one slutty girl! Now clean yourself off and get back out there. Tell my wife I went to buy ice and will be back in 30 minutes."

"Yes sir, Mr. Jackson," she said. 

He pulled up his pants, buckled his belt and then listened at the door for a moment. After ensuring that the coast was clear, he opened it and slipped out.

Marie looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were tear-stained, her lips were swollen, her makeup was smeared, and her hair was mused. Strings of Mr. Jackson's cum still clung to her cheeks, chin, forehead and chest. Only a tiny bit had gotten in her hair, and he had some miraculously managed to miss her blouse.

She grinned. Mark Jackson had marked her as his whore.

After cleaning herself off carefully, she went up to Mrs. Jackson's closet and grabbed a sweatshirt.

Back in the backyard, it seemed that no one had notice their absence. Marie looked at her watch and realized their entire encounter had lasted right around ten minutes, even though it had felt like an hour to her.

She felt like a total whore every time a slight gust of wind reminded her what had happened to her panties.

After mingling for a few minutes, she began to get anxious about seeing Mr. Jackson again in front of so many people, so she had Shawn take her home. Her ass was so sore that even the comfy leather seats in Shawn's car didn't make much of a difference.

"Can I come in?" he asked once they had reached her driveway.

"Maybe tomorrow, honey," she said, kissing him quickly before getting out of the car. 



Author's note: Thanks to the reader that inspired this story. I love hearing from readers, so please let me know what you think. Part two is in progress and will be ready soon!



Mr. Jackson Owns Marie



Author's note: this story is a continuation of the story "Mr. Jackson Claims Marie," (available through my profile) but may be read on its own. Marie, a 19-year-old babysitter, has been cheating on her boyfriend with her employer, Mr. Jackson. As always, I welcome your comments!



Marie was having second thoughts. Even though Mr. Jackson had given her the hardest series of orgasms she had ever experienced in her life, even though she knew in her gut that there was no way that her boyfriend Shawn could ever satisfy her the way Mr. Jackson had, she felt qualms of guilt. She couldn't really let him fuck her in front of Shawn. Could she?

She still couldn't believe that he had taken her in her parents' house. In her own bedroom, no less! After going over the situation in her mind all morning, she decided the best course of action would be to never see Mr. Jackson again. 

But then, around noon, Mrs. Jackson called and asked her to babysit.

"Sure," Marie blurted, as if against her own will. 

"By the way," said the older woman, "feel free to have Shawn over if you want. It's probably scary being in a big house all alone! We're planning on being out late – until after midnight, so you guys just make yourselves at home."

"Sure thing."

Marie's heart pounded. She suspected this was part of Mr. Jackson's plan to fuck her in front of her boyfriend. She didn't know what it was about the thought of being taken by Mr. Jackson in front of Shawn that turned her on so much. It was so wrong, so unbelievably slutty! 

But the image of Mr. Jackson dominating her while Shawn watched from the shadows caused warmth to spread to her pussy. She simply couldn't escape the magnetic pull that the older man had for her. She knew she would submit to him tonight. Totally. Shawn be damned.

As the day went on, Marie's tension grew. She called Shawn and told him to come over to the Jacksons' house around seven, her voice shaking.

"Is everything alright?" asked her boyfriend.

"Yeah," said Marie, trying to regain her composure, "I just can't wait to see you."

At five-thirty, Marie took a long shower, trying to calm her nerves. Her ass was still sore from the belting that she had taken from Mr. Jackson last night, when he had tied her to her bed and fucked her. 

After toweling off, she rubbed lotion into her sore backside. She had a feeling she was in for even more punishment tonight. She hoped so, at least.

She spent long time looking at her clothes, trying to select something appropriate to the occasion.

What kind of occasion was it, exactly? she wondered to herself.

Finally, she settled on a sundress and light sweater combination that accentuated her bust and ass. Underneath it she wore a black thong and bra. 

She took a deep breath, then began the fifteen-minute walk to the Jacksons' house.

When she arrived, Mrs. Jackson was just stepping into the car. 

"Hi Marie!" she said, "I'm glad you're here! My husband already left. You know what you're doing, so have a good time and call if you have any questions. I hope you don't mind staying late!"

"No problem, Mrs. Jackson," she said, secretly disappointed that Mr. Jackson wasn't there. She knew she'd see him soon enough, however!

A few minutes after Mrs. Jackson left, Shawn's car pulled into the driveway. 

"Hey babe," he said, giving her a kiss after he had bounded into the house. 

"Hey Shawn," she said, her heart pounding as she kissed him, "wanna go upstairs?"

"Already?" 

"Sure," she said, "David's asleep. I just checked on him."

When they got to the Jacksons' bedroom, Shawn began groping her immediately, but not in the skillful, forceful way that Mr. Jackson did. 

Shawn was more like...well, like a 19-year-old guy, which is exactly what he was, thought Marie.

"Shawn," she whispered, plagued by pangs of guilt once more, "I, I need to tell you something."

"What?" he murmured, unbuttoning her sweater.

"I think," she said, her voice shaking, "I need..."

But she couldn't find the words to tell him. The pull of the illicit deed she knew was coming was too strong. 

"Relax, babe," said Shawn, "and let me do the work."

Soon, she was on her back on the bed, and Shawn was kissing around each of her nipples, flicking them slowly with his tongue. Her dress and bra were on the floor, and her panties were at her knees. 

Shawn's efforts made her feel good, as usual, but not in the same raw, primal way that Mr. Jackson did.

She reached down and touched Shawn's erection. Before she had been with Mr. Jackson she had considered it large. Now it seemed inadequate by comparison.

"Are you ready, babe?" Shawn asked, looking into her eyes.

Marie nodded.

As he pushed inside her, Marie let out a small moan, just to give him the impression that she was enjoying it. In fact, she barely felt a thing. She longed for Mr. Jacksons' rock-hard cock to fill her like it had on two occasions before. 

"UUhh," moaned Shawn, his thighs slapping against hers as he drilled her pussy, "it's sooo good!"

"Oh yeah," said Marie, faking enthusiasm, "please Shawn."

Just then, there was the sound of a car in the driveway. Mr. Jackson was home.

"Fuck!" said Marie, pushing Shawn off her, "they must have forgotten something!"

Shawn grabbed his clothes in a panic and hid in the large walk-in closet. Marie tried desperately to pull on her sundress with trembling hands. 

As soon as she had finally gotten it over her head, there were footsteps on the stairs. She turned and saw exactly who she had been expecting: Mr. Jackson.

"Hello Marie," he said, smiling at her. 

"Uh, hi Mr. Jackson," she stuttered, aware of the fact that Shawn was watching from the closet.

"Well, well, well. You sure do make things easy for me, don't you? Already waiting for me with no bra and panties."

Marie couldn't move or speak. She was trembling with desire now. The older man stepped closer, running his hand along her chin, then reaching behind her head and grabbing her hair at the neck firmly. 

He moved in and kissed her hungrily on the mouth. She could hear Shawn gasp from the closet.

"You didn't fuck your boyfriend without my permission, did you Marie?" he asked, pushing his hand under her dress and probing her moistness.

"I, I'm, --."

"Shh," he said, rubbing her mound for a moment then pulling his hand away and leaving her aching, "I'll deal with your punishment later."

"I know your boyfriend is watching us, Marie," he continued, "and I'm sure he's curious about what we're going to do."

"Go ahead and relax," he went on, in a louder voice meant for Shawn, "your girlfriend wanted you to see how a real man fucks a woman!"

"No, I –," Marie stammered.

Mr. Jackson closed her mouth with another long kiss.

"It's ok," he said, breaking the kiss, "if Shawn doesn't want to find out what you need, he can leave anytime he wants. But something tells me he won't."

He reached under her dress from behind and fondled her buttocks as he kissed her one more time.

"Let me catch you up on the story so far, Shawn," said Mr. Jackson, kneading her ass while he kissed down her neck, "I came into your girlfriend's room last night. She was laying back on her bed with her panties down, playing with herself like a dirty little fucking whore."

Marie's breathing increased audibly at the sound of this first obscenity.

Mr. Jackson pulled her sundress over her head, slowly but deliberately exposing her beautiful body. 

"I tore your whore of a girlfriend's panties off her," he continued, "ripped them in half and used them to tie her fucking hands behind her back. She loved it, because she loves it when a man takes control of her."

"Isn't that right, Marie?" he asked, admiring her nakedness.

Marie didn't respond.

"What did I do next, Marie?"

She looked down. She couldn't bear to confess to Shawn what she had done with Mr. Jackson.

WHACK!

He reached behind her and smacked her ass sharply. She was still sensitive from the night before, and had to bite her lip to keep from crying out.

"What did I do, Marie?"

"You, I, --," Marie was stammering again. She could feel herself getting sopping wet even as tears came to her eyes.

"I whipped your ass with my belt until you begged me to fuck you."

Marie was silent, thinking about Shawn watching from the closet. Why wasn't he saying anything? Could he be enjoying this?

SMACK!

Mr. Jackson's hand came down hard against the other asscheek. She yelped.

"Didn't I, Marie?"

"Y, y, yes," she stuttered.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, you spanked me," she mumbled.

"And then?"

"You fucked me," she whispered.

"I don't think Shawn can hear you, Marie."

"You fucked me," she whispered again.

"I think you're going to have to learn to follow my instructions, Marie," growled Mr. Jackson. 

Before she knew what was happening, she was over his lap, her bare ass high in the air, offering a lewd view to Shawn from his place in the closet.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Marie shrieked, helpless against Mr. Jackson's blows.

"What did I do, Marie?"

"You fucked me," she moaned.

"Louder!" he commanded.

"You fucked me!" she exclaimed.

"Good girl," said Mr. Jackson, massaging her aching ass for a moment.

"It's true," he growled, "I spent a nice long time balls-deep in the tightest pussy I've ever had. She was begging for it, Shawn. Crying out for more like a little slut."

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

He landed three more blows across her buttocks.

She gasped.

"Weren't you, Marie?"

"Yes," she stammered, trying to rub her clit against his leg. What was it about this situation that was turning her on so much?

Mr. Jackson pushed a finger inside her, while massaging her buttocks with his other hand.

"You see what she likes, Shawn? You see how she likes being spanked over an older man's lap like a dirty whore?"

His question was clearly rhetorical, since Mr. Jackson didn't pause for a reply before smacking her sore ass again.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Marie yelped once more, grinding her aching pussy into his leg.

"Alright, slut," said Mr. Jackson, putting her back on her feet while he remained seated on the bed, "I think you've learned your lesson about fucking without my permission. Let's get on with the show!"

"Marie," he continued, "do you know where a slut like you belongs?"

This, too, must have been a rhetorical question, since Mr. Jackson provided the answer before she could respond.

"On her knees."

Without thinking, Marie dropped to her knees in front of Mr. Jackson. Her back was to the closet where Shawn was still watching silently.

"You know what, Shawn? I think I'm going to fuck your girlfriend's face now, just to prove to you the extent of my ownership. Would you like to see that, Shawn? Would you like to hear your girlfriend choke on my big fucking dick?"

Shawn let out an audible gasp, but still didn't say anything.

"That's what I thought," said Mr. Jackson. He stood up from the bed, stood next to Marie, then turned her to face him. Shawn had an excellent view of the action this way.

"Look at her, kneeling in front of me, Shawn," he said, "looking up at me with those sweet brown eyes. I can just tell how much she wants to please me."

"I forgot to tell you," he continued, running his fingers through Marie's hair while she knelt in front of him, "I already fucked her at my place, during the barbeque, while you were outside chatting with my wife. She sucked my cock then, too. I guess you could say she knows what she's doing. Don't you, honey?"

"Yes sir."

"Why don't you tell your boyfriend about how you tried to seduce me, Marie? Tell him what kind of pictures you took."

She cast her eyes down. Her face became flushed. She couldn't confess to Shawn that she had taken naked pictures of herself for Mr. Jackson to find!

SMACK!

He reached down and spanked her again, then pulled her hair back so she looked up at him once more.

"Tell him."

"N- naked pictures," she stammered, "I took naked pictures for you."

"Good girl," said Mr. Jackson, unbuckling his belt.

"What kind of girl does that make you, Marie?" he asked, slowly unzipping his slacks.

"I don't know," she murmured, looking down again.

"It makes you a whore, Marie. A filthy, cock-hungry whore."

"Yes sir," she muttered. She felt her last wall of resistance crumble.

"Good girl. Now say it louder. Tell your boyfriend what you are. Tell him you're a cock-hungry whore."

"I'm a cock-hungry whore," she said, looking up at Mr. Jackson.

"God you look so beautiful when you say that," he said.

"I want you to watch carefully, Shawn. You're going to see me fuck your girlfriend's sweet little face. First, I'm going to slap her with my big dick, just so she remembers who's in charge."

He grabbed a handful of her hair in one hand and his cock in the other.

SLAP! 

His dick slapped down across her face.

"Did you see that, Shawn? Tell me you love it, whore. Beg me for it."

"I love it Mr. Jackson. Please slap me with your huge dick."

SLAP!

He smacked his huge cock across her other cheek.

"Your girlfriend loves getting beaten with my dick, Shawn. Can you imagine anything more whorish?"

Shawn didn't answer, but his breathing was getting faster and faster.

"Open wide, whore."

There was a slurping sound and a low moan from Marie's throat as she struggled to accommodate Mr. Jackson's rod. 

"That's a good girl," he said.

Marie was, of course, a practiced cocksucker, and had serviced Mr. Jackson once before. That single occasion, however, did not sufficiently prepare her for the task she now faced.

"UMMPFH," she moaned as his rod slammed into the back of her throat. 

"Fucking take that cock all the way you whore," Mr. Jackson growled, "show your boyfriend what kind of girl you really are."

SMACK!

Mr. Jackson whipped her ass with his belt. Hard. 

She gasped. She hadn't even noticed that he was holding it!

"Show him, slut. Show him what a slut you are and I'll reward you with the hard fuck I know you need."

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes with the effort of swallowing his enormous erection, her ass still stinging from his belt. She wanted nothing more than to please him, and to taste the cum that would prove that she had done so.

He grabbed her hair at the nape of her neck once again and began moving her up and down on his cock. He wasn't getting a blowjob anymore. He was fucking her face!

"Look at this filthy little babysitter whore, Shawn," he groaned, "getting facefucked on her knees. She loves it. Don't you, Marie?"

Before she could remove his cock to reply, he hit her with the belt again.

SMACK!

She whimpered and moaned on his member, reaching up to cup his balls with one hand and work the end of his shaft with the other.

Then a strange thing began to happen: Marie became increasingly aware of her own arousal. It was not merely that she was turned on by servicing Mr. Jackson. It was more than that. The more he fucked her face, the more he spanked her, the closer she was coming, to, well, coming!

He removed his stiff cock and rubbed it across her cheeks, first one, then the other.

"Does my little whore want to keep sucking this cock?" asked Mr. Jackson.

"Yes, Mr. Jackson."

SMACK!

"Don't forget to say please, whore!"

"Please Mr. Jackson," she panted, "please let me suck your cock."

"You may continue, Marie."

This time, he didn't force it into her mouth. He let her set the pace.

"Uh," he moaned, as Marie skillfully stroked his balls with one hand, while licking the tip of his shaft, "does she do this for you, Shawn?"

"Milk that cock, whore. I want to come all over you. Coat your pretty fucking face."

"Mmm," Marie was moaning now, more aroused than before as she felt the smooth skin of Mr. Jackson's member on her tongue. She was rapidly approaching the point of no return, even without touching herself.

"Mmm! Mmm! MMMMMM!"

Her whole body started to shake as the first throes of orgasm reached her. She held onto Mr. Jackson's cock like it was a safety railing that could keep her from collapsing.

"God DAMN!" laughed Mr. Jackson, "do you see that, Shawn? This whore is coming just from sucking cock!"

Marie whimpered softly now, her orgasm slowly fading. Her cheeks began to glow as the embarrassment of her situation set in. For the first time, she considered what she had done to Shawn.

"Shawn," she said, turning to the closet and letting go of Mr. Jackson's cock, "I'm I'm sorry you had to find out like this."

There was no answer.

"Yes," said Mr. Jackson, "I'm sorry too. Sorry that you have to see what a whore your girlfriend is," he laughed.

"Now finish the job, whore," he said, pushing his tumescent rod back towards her face. 

Marie took him in her mouth once again, licking and sucking him as if his cock held a life-saving elixir.

"Please Mr. Jackson," she moaned, looking up at him, "please give me your cum!"

The efforts of the beautiful young babysitter were too much for Mr. Jackson, who usually prided himself on his staying power. 

"Here it comes, baby," he moaned as she stroked him next to her face, "I wanna see it hit your mouth and pretty face."

Marie smiled and closed her eyes, extending her tongue as she continued to wank Mr. Jackson. 

"Ugh," he groaned, "Shit!"

The first few spurts landed across her forehead; the next few on her tongue; the final blasts dripped down her chin and neck and into her cleavage. She lapped the last drops from his dick eagerly. 

"Did I do a good job, Mr. Jackson?" she asked.

"Yes, such a good little whore," groaned Mr. Jackson, still in ecstasy.

After she finished cleaning his cock with her mouth, she made a move to lap up the cum on her chin and face, but before she could finish Mr. Jackson slapped her with his belt.

SMACK!

"Stop it, slut. I want you wear that cum on your face like a prize. I'm not done with you yet."

He reached over with one hand and threw the closet door open. Shawn was standing there, still completely naked, his erect cock in hand.

"Take a good long look at your girlfriend, Shawn," he said, forcing Marie's head to face in her boyfriend's direction, "See that cum on her face? That means that I own her now. She is no longer yours to fuck."

Shawn nodded, slowly working his cock.

"But the good news is," continued Mr. Jackson, "you can still watch if you want. I bet you'd like to watch me fuck her, wouldn't you Shawn?"

Once again, Shawn nodded.

"Good," said Mr. Jackson, "get up, Marie," he continued.

Marie stood facing him, her face still covered in his cum.

"Get on the bed on your hands and knees, facing your boyfriend."

She did as she was told, her heart thumping at the prospect of what was coming. 

Mr. Jackson finished removing his clothes and then took his place behind her. He slapped his flaccid dick onto her buttocks a few times. Each time it sprang a little more to life. 

Finally, he was fully erect again, rubbing his cock along the length of her moist slit. Marie was out of her mind with lust. She wanted to plead with him, beg him to slip inside of her, but she let him take the lead.

"Are you ready for this, whore? Are you ready to take my dick while your boyfriend watches?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's what I like to hear," said Mr. Jackson, pushing the head of his cock roughly inside her pussy, "now beg for it. Tell me what you want, slut."

"I want your cock," she moaned.

SMACK!

Mr. Jackson spanked her as he accelerated his thrusts.

"Tell him you love this dick, you fucking slut. Tell him this is the biggest dick you've ever had inside you."

"I- love- this- dick," she moaned between his powerful thrusts, each of which pushed her a little farther forward on the bed.




Mr. Jackson Owns Marie



"Tell him," Mr. Jackson said, pulling her hair up so she was looking straight at Shawn, "use his name."

"Shawn," she moaned, looking him in the eyes as Mr. Jackson fucked her, "I'm a whore for Mr. Jackson's cock."

SMACK!

"I didn't tell you to stop, slut."

"I've never had a dick this big," she continued, watching her boyfriend wank furiously. He had probably already cum once, she thought, as he worked his glistening rod. 

Marie couldn't believe how turned on she was by the whole situation: her boyfriend jerking off in front of her, Mr. Jackson's thighs slapping into hers as he rammed into her from behind, muttering ever nastier words as he did so, punctuating his thrusts with slaps to her ass.

"Fucking take this dick. You know you love it."

"Yes Mr. Jackson," she moaned, "I'm going to cum again!" 

Mr. Jackson stopped, pulling his dick out of her completely. She turned to look at him in surprise, pleading with her eyes for him to continue fucking her. 

She saw him reach down and spread something on his cock, then jumped as he applied the same warm and slippery substance to her exposed asshole.

"You're not going to cum, Marie," he said, "until I've fucked that pretty little ass."

"What?" she moaned, "no – I've never--!"

But it was too late. The head of Mr. Jackson's cock was already at the entrance to her ass, and he was beginning to push it slowly onward. He held her in place with one powerful hand, pressing her face to the bedsheets while he used his other hand to guide his cock slowly into her, a millimeter at a time.

"Ahh!" she cried. It hurt, but it also gave her a feeling of fullness she had never experienced. Besides, Mr. Jackson was clearly not going to change his mind about fucking her in the ass. But at least he was taking his time.

"You like this, Shawn?" he said, looking up at Marie's boyfriend, whose face was so red he seemed on the verge of a conniption. He nodded quickly.

"I guess I'm going to have to keep going," he said, giving Marie's ass a hard slap that left her whimpering as he drove his shaft in deeper. After applying another quick squirt of lube, he grabbed her head by the hair once again and pushed it into the sheets. 

There was still a pasty mess of cum on her face, and she was panting with the exertion of having a cock in her ass for the first time. Nevertheless, Marie didn't want him to stop. She wanted to be taken to a place inside her mind that only Mr. Jackson could help her reach. 

SMACK!

"You love this dick in your ass, don't you, you fucking whore?"

"Yes," she blubbered, barely able to speak after he had forced his cock inside her another inch. 

"I don't think Shawn could hear you," he laughed, "why don't you look at him when you say that?" 

He pulled on her hair again, roughly jerking her head up so that she could look Shawn in the eyes.

"Yes," she whispered, as Mr. Jackson pushed himself even further inside her.

SMACK!

His palm came down on her ass once more.

"Tell him," he said, inching his cock in more. Her resistance was gone now. Her body had accepted the fact that she was going to be assfucked. 

"I --, I want," she began, panting once more as Mr. Jackson slowly pulled out and applied more lube.

SMACK!

"Say it, whore! Tell him what you want."

"I want to be assfucked, Mr. Jackson," she blurted, as Mr. Jackson speared her ass once more, all the way inside her this time, with his giant cock.

She shrieked in pain and pleasure. 

"That's a good fucking whore," Mr. Jackson growled, "this is a fucking tight piece of ass, Shawn."

He pressed her head to the sheets once more. Her cheek scrapped roughly against the bedclothes as Mr. Jackson began to fuck her ass. 

His strokes were just as strong and deliberate as they had been each time he had taken her pussy. Marie knew that he wanted to possess her in every way, and she was going to let him now – even if it meant that she would never see Shawn again.

As he watched the older man fucking his girlfriend's ass, Shawn couldn't hold back his orgasm any longer. 

Mr. Jackson looked at him and grinned. 

"Hey Shawn," he said, "just so there are no hard feelings, why don't you shot your load on this slut's face."

Shawn let out a high moan and stepped a few feet forward. But before he could get in position, he began to come. As he approached the bed, he started shooting one of the biggest loads of his life, hitting the floor and bedspread before aiming his stream at the red-faced Marie, whose head Mr. Jackson supported by the hair. 

"Uhh," he moaned, aiming for the proffered target of his girlfriend's face.

Marie closed her eyes as several sticky, warm wet strands of cum smacked into her face with an audible plop. She tried to reach up to wipe some of the semen from her eyes, but Mr. Jackson's other hand came down hard on her ass.

SMACK!

"Let him see what a slut you are, Marie."

She craned her neck up, her eyes still plastered shut with cum from both of the men.

"Um, I'm just gonna get going," muttered Shawn, gathering his clothes and running for the door.

Mr. Jackson pushed Marie's face back down, wiping the cum from it as he rubbed it into the sheets.

He pushed slowly back into her.

"Your boyfriend's gone now," said Mr. Jackson, his cock buried so deep in Marie's ass that she could feel his balls against her pussy.

Then he started to increase the pace of his strokes. Marie was starting to get used to the sensation of having his cock in her ass. She was even enjoying it.

"Uuh, uhh," she moaned, in time with his thrusts.

"I own this ass, now, Marie," said Mr. Jackson.

SMACK!

He spanked her again as his balls beat a rhythm on her pussy entrance. 

"Who does this ass belong to, Marie?"

"You, Mr. Jackson!" she moaned, on the verge of another orgasm. She couldn't believe she was going to come from being assfucked, but the sensations of his lubed shaft stretching her tight tunnel were proving to be too much.

"FUCK!" she yelled, "I'm coming!"

She wondered, even in the throes of orgasm, if Shawn was still in the house somewhere, and if he had heard her. 

She was flat on her stomach now, and Mr. Jackson was thrusting into her ass from behind, riding her. She could still taste the salty cum on her lips and on the sheets as she received the most brutal fuck of her life.

"That's it you little slut," he groaned, "I knew you'd love an assfuck."

"God," he groaned, "I'm going to come again. Tell me you want it whore. Beg me for my cum!"

"Please give me your cum!" 

"Louder!" he commanded, fucking her ass faster than she'd ever thought possible.

"PLEASE GIVE ME YOUR CUM, MR. JACKSON!"

The older man let out a noise somewhere between a growl and a moan as Marie felt his hot seed fill her ass. He lay on top of her for a moment, immobilized by his orgasm.

"God that was incredible," he said, catching his breath, "it was everything I'd hoped for and more."

He gently extracted himself from her ass and rolled to the side.

"From the moment you started flirting with me, I knew you wanted it," he said, "I just didn't know how rough you wanted it until you sent me those pictures, and then practically admitted to watching my pornos."

"Mm hmm," said Marie, still in a post-assfuck daze.

"Only a total slut would do something like that," chuckled Mr. Jackson, "so I knew that I could do what I wanted with you."

Marie was so exhausted she could only nod. She knew that he was right. She was his now. His alone.



Mr. Jacobson and I



It had already been a long day. It was the first day of my second semester. I was a senior this year, yup; I had half a year left to go of school! Well, at least until I started college. As I walked through the hallway I watched the freshmen wandering aimlessly trying to find their classes and said hi to my friends as I passed them. I saw my little cousin Juli and led her to her last class of the day. After all, I didn't want her to be one of the loser freshmen who came in after the bell rang because they'd gotten lost.

After that, hurried to my locker and shoved my book bag in it. It was the first day of these classes; I didn't have any books to carry yet. Then I took a peek at my schedule. Fourth period - U.S. History with Mr. Jacobson, Room Number 201. Who the hell was Mr. Jacobson? He must be new this semester. I didn't recognize the name but I knew where the room was, second floor, first door on the left.

I grabbed a notebook and pen and hustled to the room, dodging all the losers who liked to hang out in the hallways until the last second. My ex-boyfriend, Matteo, tried to stop me as I walked past him but I kept going; I had nothing to say to the no-good cheating scumbag.

I rounded the corner and walked into the classroom. I first looked around the room, there were like five other students there already. Mr. Jacobson wasn't even there yet. The desks were arranged in a "U" shape; all of the desks backed up to one of three walls. The fourth wall, at the front of the room, held the board and Mr. Jacobson's desk. Most teacher's went with the rows of desks arrangement, how boring. But this was pretty cool.

Well the arrangement WAS cool, until Matteo walked in and sat directly across from me. Great, now I would have to stare at his disgusting mug the rest of the year. I prayed Mr. Jacobson would put us in alphabetical order or something so I didn't have to stare at Matt. All the rest of the students filed in and my best friend Nikki sat down beside me.

Right as the bell rang, who we assumed to be Mr. Jacobson, strode into the classroom and I, as well as all the other girls in the class I'm sure, was pleased. He was a very attractive man. He couldn't have been over 25 years old. And after all, most of us WERE 18. 

He began taking role and we all answered when it came to our turn. Mr. Jacobson then asked every person to go around the room and say something about themselves to the class. He started with himself.

"Well, I'm obviously new to your school, and I'm obviously not much older than many of you in here. I do not teach in the traditional manner as you will see. I like my classroom to be fun as well as educating. I am 24 years old, single, and have my own house right outside of town... well that's not true, I share the place with my dog Bandit," he finished with a gorgeous smile to the class.

Everyone went around speaking their pieces. When it came Matt's turn he sent me what I used to think was a heart-stopping grin; now it was just disgusting.

"My name is Matteo Clemington, and I am in love with that girl right there," he said pointing to me.

I felt my face go beet red and saw the teacher raise his eyebrows and smile. I raised my hand politely hoping to hell the teacher called on me to speak out of turn.

"Yes... Erin?" he said.

"I'd just like to make it clear that he may love me, but I can't stand to look at him," I said with a glare at Matt.

The teacher and class chuckled and Matt grew red with anger. I ignored him. He had cheated on me with some slutty freshman, no way was I going to forgive him!

The rest of the class passed quickly and we were all dismissed to head out to our cars. I went to my locker and packed up all my stuff I'd acquired that day. Then grabbing my book bag, I started to head to my car. I was sidetracked by a friend and stood talking to her for a few minutes. By the time I left her the halls were deserted, no one ever stayed any longer than they had to.

I rounded the corner and went to go downstairs. As I rounded that corner I saw Matt standing there with a mean gleam in his eyes. Frustrated, I continued walking and tried to brush by him. But as I did he grabbed my arm in a painful grasp. I yelped in pain and smacked his chest.

"Matt, get the fuck off of me," I said calmly and he squeezed harder, causing me to grimace.

"You think you can make a fool out of me in class and get away with it? I don't think so bitch," he said before slamming me up against the wall. I grunted as my head connected with the concrete wall and then I started to struggle telling him to get off of me and kicking and hitting him. I knew Matt was strong, he was captain of the football team, but I never thought he was dangerous. I started to get scared.

Matt leaned in whispered roughly in my ear, "I will have you again, Erin. Whether you want me to or not, I will have you. Right now. The halls are deserted. No one will find us for at least an hour when the janitor comes through. And he's old. You know how long that could take,".

His wrist was pressing into my throat and my head was becoming light from lack of air. Matt then proceeded to roughly push me on the ground, pinning me there with his body weight. I struggled beneath him to no avail. I began to cry as he roughly began groping my tits, causing pain as he pinched and squeezed my nipples through the thin t-shirt I was wearing. He had one hand over my mouth so I couldn't yell out, I was beginning to panic.

Just as he pushed my shirt up, roughly, to expose my bra and stomach, I heard a voice.

"What the fuck?!" and then felt Matt's body being easily lifted from mine and saw him being backed against the wall. It was Mr. Jacobson, I realized. He had Matteo pinned against the wall. He yelled out for another teacher and soon Matt was drug away, I suppose to the principal's office. I tugged my shirt down and sat in the corner Matt had thrown me in. tears were still streaming down my face and I was shaking so badly my teeth rattled.

"Erin, oh god, are you ok?" Mr. Jacobson asked as he kneeled down beside me and took my hand in his. Mine were like ice, cold with fear. I couldn't talk so I just shrugged in answer to his question.

"Did he hurt you?" Mr. Jacobson asked as he began to search my body for injuries. I shook my head no and winced when that hurt, I'd forgotten I'd hit it when Matt slammed me to the wall. My hand automatically went up to where it hurt and I cried out softly when I felt blood. Mr. Jacobson saw the injury and helped me up, allowing me to lean on his shoulder for support, we went back to his classroom. 

"Don't worry, I'm EMT certified," he said as he sat me down in his desk chair and began to clean my wound. I winced as something stung and he apologized softly. I felt a bit dizzy and told him that. They were the first words I'd spoken since the attack and my voice shook.

Mr. Jacobson walked to the phone and dialed the principal's office, telling the principal that I would give a statement tomorrow, I was too shook up to do it today. I was greatly relieved and sighed as I leaned back against the chair.

"You can't drive, c'mon, I'll drive you home if you like," Mr. Jacobson said softly as he helped me up. I nodded and we walked back to the hallway to get my bag. He carried it for me as we slowly made our way to his Jeep that was parked in the lot.?I smiled despite everything, this definitely was not a normal teacher.

He helped me up and I instructed him on how to get to my house. Once there, and he realized no one was home, he insisted on helping me get settled before he left and followed me in the house. I explained to him that both Mom and my step dad traveled in their work, and my step brother was in college, so normally about 5 days out of seven I was on my own.

Mr. Jacobson then instructed me to go shower and that he'd wait here until I did. I agreed and went up and took a quick shower to get the blood off of me. I then dressed in a pair of short cotton shorts and a cami. I came down the stairs and saw Mr. Jacobson sitting on my couch laughing at something on TV. I smiled despite myself, man he was a hunk. I walked in and sat down on the other end of the couch. He asked if I was feeling better and I nodded yes. He patted my knee and said good. When his hand touched my knee I felt a surge of electricity from his touch and gasped. He yanked his hand back as if he too had felt it and blushed.

"I, uh, I guess I need to be going, Erin," he said, "Are you going to be ok now?"

I realized I didn't want him to leave, and, stood, then wavered a bit dizzily when I stood to quickly. Mr. Jacobson's strong arms were instantly around me and once my head straightened out I gasped at the feeling of all the muscle in his arms. He looked down at me a confused look in his eyes and I smiled shyly.

"Uh, you ok?" he asked huskily. I nodded and leaned into his body a bit, not even realizing I did it. It just felt so right to be in his arms. I felt his arms tighten around me and knew he felt it too.

"Erin we shouldn't, we can't, I'm your teacher, you're hurt... it... it just wouldn't right," he stumbled over the words as he spoke them but I could see the heat in his eyes.

"We shouldn't but I can't help what it feels like to be in your arms," I said softly.

A soft groan came out of Mr. Jacobson's lips as he bent his head and briefly touched them to mine. I pressed back and the kiss took on a heated flame, our tongues intertwined and I was amazed at how great it felt. I was now the one who moaned softly, into his mouth and in response he hauled me chest to chest with him, my tit's smashed against his hard muscles.

I hooked my arms around his neck and pulled him to me. His lips traveled lazily over my cheek, neck and throat before landing on that spot behind my ear which made my knees go weak.

"Ohhh Mr. Jacobson," I groaned softly.

"Tucker, call me Tucker," he said in a rough voice.

My hands roamed over his body and I started to unbutton the tiny buttons holding his shirt closed. In return he lifted my tank top off of my body and then stared at my 36c tits, encased in a white silk bra.

"Oh, god," he moaned again, just as I slid his shirt open and pulled it out of his trousers. I could see a considerable bulge there and couldn't wait to see it without anything blocking it. I dropped to one knee and undid his pants, pulling them down. I smiled when I realized he had no underwear on. He grinned down at me wickedly and mumbled something about to confining.

His prick was huge. About 10 inches and very thick. I was concerned it wouldn't even fit! My concern must have shown on my face because he chuckled before hauling me up into his arms again.

"I'll be gentle," he said as his hand lazily slid beneath the elastic waistband of my shorts and he laughed out loud when he realized, I too, had skipped underwear. His finger found my damp heat and slid back and forth along the slit there, teasing me, before he thrust a finger up into me. I cried out in pleasure.

His other hand unhooked the front clasp on my bra and I allowed it to slide off so we were both completely naked. My hand reached down and cupped his now rock-hard cock. I slowly slid my hand up and down as he fingered me. I was becoming soaked and he now had pre-cum leaking from the tip of his hard-on.

Slowly I backed away from him and he followed until I lay down on the couch and he followed me down, lying on top of me his finger still buried in my soaked cunt.

I felt his cock sliding along my entrance but he seemed to hold himself back. I groaned softly.

"Please, Tucker, please just fuck me," I pleaded with him

As I said that I felt the head of it enter my passage. God it was so huge. I felt full just from the head. Slowly, inch by inch, he would maneuver that huge beast in me. Every stroke would bring it farther in. Minutes later he had it fully buried in me and I gasped at the full feeling. I heard him groan in pleasure as he slowly began a rhythm of moving in and out. I was so tight around him.

After a little while of this slow rhythm, Tucker suddenly switched our positions so I was on top and riding him. I smiled down at him and he reached up to play with my tits as they jiggled above his face. His hands caressed down my back and over my buttocks. I groaned as his finger slid along my crack. One of my fantasies had always been to have my ass played with, but I'd never found a man I wanted to do it with but suddenly I knew that I wanted Tucker to play with it.

I lifted my ass a little bit off of his pelvis and felt his finger trace through my crack again and I groaned louder this time when it brushed my puckered rosebud. He smiled up at me and I leaned forward to kiss him full on the lips. His cock was still buried deep inside of my cunt but I'd stopped riding him for a bit. I felt his finger trace along my slit, gathering wetness from my juices and then I felt it tracing my ass again. I gasped as I felt him push on my asshole. His finger slid in to the first knuckle. It felt odd but I liked it. Then, his finger slid deeper still until it was buried in my ass. I had his 10 inch monster cock in my pussy and his finger in my ass. I automatically came at the thought and feeling of this, my body convulsing on him. He smiled and then started moving beneath me. I got his message and began to ride him hard.

My ass slapped down to his pelvis, driving his finger up in me, and his cock drilled into my pussy. Pretty soon I felt his cock thicken in me and then after that I heard his cry of release as he poured his hot juices into my canal.

I collapsed on top of him breathing heavily and he slowly slipped his finger out of my butt. His now spent cock slowly slid from inside of me as well and he just held me there.

A little while later we both got up and got cleaned up in the shower, having a little fun while we were at it. We redressed and I walked Mr. Jacobson, no, Tucker, to the door.

"Erin what happened in there tonight, I liked it a lot. I want to see you more," he said before he walked out and I nodded, knowing that it would happen again. I was sure of it.

He gave me a quick peck on the lips then walked to his Jeep and pulled away, sending me a wink as he did. I smiled to myself then went back in to fix myself something to eat, feeling as if I was on cloud nine.



Mr. Jefferson's Party's Party



Sylvia felt the vibrations of the music rise through the wooden dance floor. The huge—and really very good—Big Band moved smoothly into what she realized was the last tune of the set, "Moon River." In fact, it was the last dance of the evening. She was glad she'd persuaded the band manager to show her his handwritten copy of his program and memorized the song order. The sound engulfed her. 

Then she felt the long slender prick push against her. She reached down and used her two fingertips to open her pussy lips for him. She saw, as if detached from her body, her fingertips, glistening with red nail polish, guide the stiff red organ into her entrance. Tim groaned lustily. Sylvia felt him move into her vestibule, then hesitate. Then he shoved his cock deep into her without even a show of hesitation or gentleness. But it was fine. She was wet for him. It felt deep and good. He was irresistible, implacable, inevitable.

She looked into his penetrating, intoxicating green eyes. She opened up to him, pulling her legs back and open. She felt him move up on her. She considered how his eyes matched the tablecloth. Almost; not exactly. Her arms went up around his bony shoulders. She looked down and saw his cock pushing in and out of her, hiding then suddenly reappearing from her lush, wet, dark bush. She noticed how the blue veins stood out against the tight skin of his tanned rod. And how that contrasted with the white crotch of her panties. The panties he had pulled aside just a few minutes before.

Red, white and blue, she thought. The right colors for this election campaign. Candidate Stanton's predictably patriotic colors.

She liked the sight of Tim's skinny body and how it came to a tight V shape where his cock was fastened and sprang from his coiled black pubic hair. It glistened with sparkling beads of her love-dew. His long hair hung over her, making a kind of dark tent, occasionally tickling her face, her shoulders.

Tim was thrusting faster now. Her pussy responded, opening and lubricating. It was incongruous how the rhythm of his primal thrusts jarred with the romantic strains of the orchestra. After the first wave of lust, Sylvia was open, liquid and relaxing, and Tim was moving easily—too easily, seeking stimulating friction by riding higher, plunging deeper. Her excitement was increasing; but she knew orgasm was a long way off. 

Instinctively, she moved her bottom up to meet his thrusts. Sylvia started groaning—he was so deep and hard. The tip of his prick touched the very end of her womb. It was immensely exciting. No one had ever gone in that far, not since she'd been doing this with John. No wonder the rumor of Tim's endowment had spread like wildfire among women in the music world. And from there, to the female circles of the Democratic Party. John was a big contributor. Now she was contributing her bit. 

She moaned out loud and suddenly found Tim's hard hand, calloused from years of guitar practice, first with the Hi Jinx and now and more, successfully under John's direction, with the RatTaillz, pressing down over her mouth. She quieted. She contented herself with moving with his impatient thrusts and nibbling on his fingers.

A glitter of light from the ballroom chandelier made her look to one side. There was a narrow strip of brightness between the seam of the green tablecloth and the golden dance floor. Spots of light glittered briefly past her. Polished male dress shoes and dark suit trouser cuffs were gliding by. Suddenly, between thrusts, Sylvia caught site of her husband's Guccis sliding by. Mere inches away. As they came spinning by, she saw a pair of astonishingly red, astonishingly tall high heels entwined with his.

Now she grasped why it was an additional pleasure that she was fucking Tim! If John could make Tim the record label's biggest star, she could show John that she could get fucked by him. She looked down at her body. Yes, she once had once been John's trophy wife. Now, she thought, she had another role. But she didn't look so bad for 45 years old, two kids. No, not bad at all.

Tim mounted her higher, pushing his cock against the floor of her vagina. His breath came short and sharp now. She caught him staring at her bouncing, full, flowing breasts beneath her black lace bra. Then he looked back premeditatedly into her eyes. Thrusting. He was clearly getting excited. His eyes never left hers. It was a trick, she knew, many women fell for. Occasionally his curved prick rubbed against her clitoris. But it was so infrequent and so slippery wet that Sylvia's only stimulation was mental. And that was certainly enough. She gloried in the power she held over this man.

She heard his breathing speed up. She felt drops of his sweat fall on to her chest like jewels of fire. But she also heard the final measures of the song. She was running out of time! Her husband might not look for her right away. But he might. And she couldn't get caught here when the bellboys stripped the table. There was only one thing she could do. 

A great number of things happened, in staccato. The final, drawn out strains of the sentimental song flew through the air. The romantically inclined squeezed their dance partners one more time. The last note faded. The well-heeled audience of corporate executives, lobbyists and governmental officials broke into noblesse oblige applause. 

Sylvia wet her hand with her lips, then reached under Tim's crotch, and found his balls with her fingertips. She pressed his million-dollar spot as hard with her moistened fingers. Then she raised her other hand as high as the table bottom allowed. Down, down! She slapped Tim's gyrating ass as hard as she could. Simultaneously, she clamped down hard on his cock with her vaginal muscles—those strong, thick muscles she'd been training for so many long months. Tim's face contorted; his eyes inflated in surprise. The skinny male screamed with the sudden pleasure and the abrupt pain. He ejaculated ferociously, hard and deep in her. His head threw itself up in a reflex of ecstasy, astonishment and pain—and smashed it hard into the underside of the table. He collapsed on her. 

Tim's weight was suffocating her. She felt warm wetness--blood was pouring from his scalp. She looked up to see redness dripping from a sharp metal bracket where the table's folding legs were stored. It reminded her of every ironing board she'd pinched her fingers on closing, especially in those early New York walk-up apartment days with John. For a fleeting moment she thought about filing a lawsuit against Acme Folding Tables for selling an unsafe product. New label warning: "Not to be used for fucking. Do not screw on or under this product." But then, she realized, she really had no cause of action. She wasn't hurt; Tim was. And he was in no condition to sue anybody right now. 

Instantly Sylvia felt used, dirty and degraded. Tim's come was pooling in her vagina. This was how she imagined a real slut would feel. A tide of disgust overtook her. But Tim didn't care. He was motionless. Sylvia thought: nothing like three shots of whiskey, a line of white powder (only his was real), a sudden orgasm and a sharp bang on the head to put a rock freak out of business. Maybe rutting like a pig under a table made her a slut. She didn't know.

Still, she realized she was enjoying having a victory John couldn't match. And she had enjoyed the attention, not to mention the prick, of a younger man. A man who could fuck any eighteen year-old in the country—and did. "The 18-25 year old market segment," she thought wryly. "The one they love so much."

Sylvia pried Tim's legs from between her own and pushed the half-naked body off her. It moaned faintly. But Tim's eyelids remained classically closed. She pried open his mouth and slipped the pill under his tongue, then touched his lips with a finger as a mother might shush a naughty child.

Except for the terrible wrinkles in her skirt and blouse, there really wasn't much tidying up to do. She didn't even have to fumble with her bra. Tim hadn't bothered to unfasten it. In fact, he hadn't given her breasts much attention at all. Maybe he wasn't a breast man. Or perhaps he was so confident that she would give him her pussy without attention to them. Maybe that's way it was with all the girls. Nor had he needed to unzip her skirt. He'd simply pushed it up to her thighs, just far enough to reveal her panties and ascertain that he didn't have to deal with pantyhose. And his fingers, she remembered, had slipped aside her panty-crotch with a finger movement that had been all too deft, all too practiced.

Never mind. She found her purse, brushed her hair. She felt nauseous. Scrunching low under the table, she pulled out a lighted compact, touched up her lipstick. She knew she looked like she'd been through a dishwasher. Then she peeked out the wall side of the table. No one there. She grabbed the green dress jacket she'd recently used for a pillow and made her stealthy way through the "Stanton for President" streamers and balloons to the ladies' room.

No toilet paper left! Damned if it wasn't always like this at these kinds of parties! And no Tampax in the dispenser—even at the bathroom robbery of 50 cents a slug! Oh, well.

Minutes later she was walking through the thinning but still chatting, half-intoxicated crowd. They all wore red, white and blue "Stanford for President" buttons on jackets, lapels and hats. 

She angled pertly up to John's side. He was talking earnestly with a middle-aged, very self-possessed Asian man. She remembered her marriage to John twenty years ago. His dark features were the same. Then, his hair had been jet black. He had looked, she remembered thinking, young and expensive. Now his head was sprinkled with grey. She examined his blue-black, four thousand dollar suit. It fit perfectly. Her eyes found a piece of lint, but she resisted plucking it from his lapel. Now, she decided, he looked old and expensive. But not less handsome.

The short Asian man was saying something, slightly accented, picking his words carefully. "…. once these rock guys drop on the far side—how do you American say it--of the power curve—yes, in the sales, the charts, there's no point in throwing money…" He shrugged pointedly.

"Yes, Hirono-san," replied John in silky-smooth agreement. "There's just no point. Throwing good money after bad—good promotion money we could be spending on new talent… growing the market and…" then he saw Sylvia. 

"Oh Sylvia, I've missed you! "Here," he said, taking her politician-like, by the elbow. "Here, let me introduce my wife, Hirono-san," John said. "Hirono-san, this is my wife Sylvia. She's my secret weapon," he smiled, without a trace of condescension or irony. 

She felt sticky wetness oozing out from her panties and begin a liquid trail down her leg. She pressed her legs even closer together.

"Sylvia, this is Kurybashi Hirono, my dear friend and partner." That was John-speak for 'a big customer'. "He is president of Progressive Music Division at Sony Entertainment." She looked down at the stocky, smiling, bespectacled Japanese. Also expensive, she thought. She wondered if twenty-five year-old Japanese women found him irresistible. Maybe short men gave better head. Tough guy, she thought. Probably a bit of a sadist in the sack. Maybe gay, like a lot of them. Of course, he could make a secretary into a star, as John had made a construction laborer named Bartholomew Timothy Smoleovitch a star…so…

"Mrs. Thompson," Hirono responded, "it is indeed…."

"Oh, please go on with your conversation, Mr. Hirono. As you know, I love the music business as much as John. You were saying something about…about…Sony needing new talent?" It was a bit intrusive to Japanese ears for a woman, she knew, but screw it, Sylvia thought. I've had as much to do with John's success as John himself, super agent or no super agent.

"Ah, yes, Miss Thompson," Hirono purred. Sylvia noticed the incorrect honorific and wondered if Hirono was trying to flatter her. In any event, it worked. Hirono looked back at John with steady, predatory eyes. "…New talent is always in demand in our business. The young audiences are a fickle lot!" 

John was nodding sagely. "Fickle isn't the word!" said John.

Hirono smiled. Sylvia saw the flash of gold teeth on one side. "Don't you think these new lifetime contracts make it even harder for record labels to make money?"

John smiled back. Both of them knew John had pioneered lifetime contracts of labels with rock artists. It was one reason his client list was so long. "Fortunately," he said soothingly, putting his arm 'round the Japanese man's shoulders, "…or unfortunately, not many live to what you might call normal retirement age."

Hirono laughed. "Ha, ha! Mr. Thompson! I would be very interested in seeing the numbers on…that. Yes, the cost of life insurance for these folks certainly keeps climb…"

"Mommy! Mommy!" There was a scream. 

"Mommy! Mommy!" There was another scream, even higher pitched.

Heads turned. But no head turned more quickly than Sylvia's. She instantly recognized her little boy Tanner, in little-boy lederhosen huge "Stanton For Kyds" button bouncing, running toward her. His face was white with terror. Close behind him was her little girl Jill, her bony legs pumping furiously under her red, white and blue party dress.

Sylvia collapsed to her knees, her arms outstretched. "What, what!" she cried. Tanner flung himself into her arms. Jill threw arms around John's pants leg. They were hysterical.

"It's a dead man! There's a dead man under that table!" He started crying wildly and clutching her ferociously, burying his head in her breasts. 

"It's Tim Stone! Tim Stone!" shrieked Jill. A girl didn't have to be sixteen to have a poster of Tim Stone tacked to her bedroom wall.

"No, darling, I'm sure he's only sleeping," said Sylvia. In a rush she realized she'd nearly given herself away. She looked up reflexively. 

But John and Hirono's attention was with the crowd that was surging nearer and nearer the green-covered table. Chaos reigned. Three portly hotel security guards imitated running toward the scene. Their reluctance to get involved in any policing was obvious.

Soon sirens shrieked, red police lights flashed and politicians scattered, not wanting to be associated with dead rock stars. "We left the fund-raiser early," they would want to say to reporters. "We're deeply saddened by the death of such a fine and popular artist."

John looked at Sylvia, then jerked his head toward the door. The stampede of glitterati was already starting. John grabbed Jill up in his powerful arms. Sylvia gripped Tanner by the wrist. By some miracle their black Town Car was waiting. John bolted in, crammed next to Julie, in her tight black dress and red shoes. He thrust Jill onto Julie's lap and scrunched over, cramming her against the far door. Sylvia piled in, a wailing Tanner, clutching at her.

* * *

Looking from her bed, past the drapes and through her hotel balcony window, Sylvia could see John dozing on a lounge chair by the pool. A two-month-old copy of Variety was folded over his face, shading him from the hot January sun. The headline was so huge Sylvia could read it easily: "Big Demo Win Means $$ 4 H'Wood." Men and women of various stages of age and beauty and various stages of dress and undress littered the pool deck. They looked bronze, languid and hot. Julie Stanton was there on a lounge chair, reading. Belly's not as flat as mine, thought Sylvia. Somebody should really tell her that she and bikini bottoms don't mix.

Sylvia was glad her room was air conditioned—not as easy to find in this part of the world as you might expect, even at these rates. She would make sure, she thought, that their new house would have working air conditioning—must talk to the general contractor about that. And a nice big vault for the checks. And Sony contracts.

Luiz' abrupt movement brought an end to that train of thought. God, did all these Latin guys have such fat cocks? He was bent over her back, his strong tan arms on either side of her. He was whispering something endearing in Portuguese into her ear. She felt her asshole tighten, then relax. Luiz pushed a bit further in. She groaned and buried her face down into her pillow. Luiz thrust a huge hotel pillow under her hips and bent even further forward over her. Sylvia felt his silver crucifix slap her backbone

Sylvia felt as if her lower body was about to explode. She was so relieved when he withdrew slightly. She knew he would come in again. Her ass was both begging for it and afraid of it. Hopefully he would use some… "Lubricato, lubricato," she whispered in pig-Portuguese. 

She felt Luiz hesitate. Then she felt his cock release and her asshole close. She felt the cool liquid run into her. She hugged her pillow tighter to her head. She waited for his thick hot cock to enter her and start fucking her the way she liked it.

Then there was a burning sensation in her ass. She screamed. She looked up and back. Luiz was grinning. The whiskey glass in his hand was empty. The booze was running into her! In a flash she was utterly drunk. She gyrated wildly as the alcohol instantly hit her nervous system and brain. Her ass thrashed and twisted.

Luiz pumped hard. He started slapping her on the ass, both sides. She groaned and screamed. Fast images of herself in a kilt-patterned school uniform skirt flew through her whirling head. With astonishing clarity she saw herself on the green couch in her parents game room. It was the day she got even—no, outdid—her smarter, prettier, older sister. The day the basketball jock fucked her while the Doris Day rerun played. He'd held her crucifix necklace in his teeth while he did her. Blood on the couch. Blood on the carpet.

Then Luiz was bending over her, his two thick hands pulling on her swinging tits, massaging her nipples, hard. No, he was pinching them. 

He slapped her again. She screamed and groaned. She thought, "What a bad girl I've been! I deserve to be spanked! I deserve it! I deserved to be fucked in the ass! So naughty-naughty-naughty-naughty!" Her brain spun her into an ecstasy of self-hatred. It built and built inside her alcohol-fogged completely uninhibited mind. "Harder!" she yelled. She deserved more pain and wanted more fucking. "Harder!" She hated herself even more. The harder Luiz thrust and the more it hurt, the more she liked it and the more she hated herself.

Faintly she perceived Luiz stiffening. Her nipples hurt wonderfully. Her body was all-consumed with his massive possession. He was going to come in her ass. And that was what she deserved. She looked back and saw his chest heaving and the end of his cock going into her. She felt a hand release her tit and saw it rise to slap her again. The sight of what was about to happen was exactly what she needed to put her over the orgasmic edge. "Aaahhhhhhhhhh," she screamed. Her vagina tightened and her ass gripped as she came for the fourth time that afternoon. "Ahhhhhhh! God! AHHHHHHHHH…….Yes, bad, bad, bad…Ohhhhhhohhhhhh. Lord God, have I been bad!" "God, I'll do anything you want, God! Ahhhhhhhhh!"

She collapsed shaking on the bed. Orange parrot and tropical flower motifs. It had been hard to come again. But it had been worth it.

Sylvia woke alone sometime later. She was alone. A breeze swept through the room from the balcony. A green bank receipt for twelve million dollars made out to JT Agents, P.C. in Arial Bold 12- point in the name of The Carolina Insurance Companies, Inc. fluttered onto the carpet.

It would pay for a lot of Luizes.



Mr. Joe's Lipstick Fetish



This tells the story of how I got my red lipstick fetish. A fetish is defined as an obsession or something that is necessary for sexual gratification. I think to most people it's something that may involve fantasy and is probably something remembered from the past that gave them a great deal of pleasure and still affects them today. That's the case with me. I'm not obsessed, but to this day when I see a hot woman wearing bright red lipstick I just want to shove my raging hard-on in her mouth and have her suck me off. Let me tell you how I got this way.

It all started when I was 18 years old. I lived in a small community where if you didn't know someone, you knew someone who did. We had a neighbor Mrs. Harmon who lived around the corner. She was a young stunning woman who lost her husband in a car accident two years earlier. He left her a widow without children. Before the accident she was a happy outgoing person and she used to baby sit me when I was 10 or 11. After the accident she was withdrawn and the rumor was she was hitting the sauce pretty hard. Most rumors were true in a small town like mine. As I got older she had me cut her grass and do odd jobs for her. She was always around as I grew up and I thought of her as my second mom and her house as my second home. She let me smoke cigarettes and have a beer now and then without telling my parents. I seemed to be the only person she allowed to get close to her. Sometimes odd relationships form under difficult circumstances.

One day I was doing yard work for her as usual and she liked to help by doing the raking and weeding. We took breaks when we got hot. She was drinking lemonade and from the way she was acting I was sure she was getting smashed. We went in the house to cool off and she poured herself another tall glass of lemonade from a pitcher before she went to the bathroom. One beer was enough for me at that age and I poured myself some lemonade too. I was gulping it down when she returned.

Joey, my God!

What?

You shouldn't drink that!

Why not? It's good.

It has Vodka in it!

Too late now I guess.

Right, your mother will kill me!

I guess this is something else we won't be telling her.

It sure is. Crap, Crap, Crap!

Its okay Cathy, I feel fine. I just need to take a leak. Be right back.

I was holding my dick and pissing away when the bathroom door opened and she stuck her head in.

Joey, are you alright?

I'm a little light headed but I'm okay.

She watched me holding my dick as I pissed for what seemed like forever. I didn't seem to care that I was getting excited by her looking at my growing cock.

I'm glad you're okay and you know this isn't the first time I've seen you so I hope you're not embarrassed. 

Cathy I'm not embarrassed, but you know I was 10 then and I'm not now.

You're quite a young man Joey. Do you have a girlfriend?

Cut it out, you're drunk.

Well I think you're a little drunk too.

She was right. I put my thick half hard cock back in my pants and walked her to the kitchen and sat her down in a chair at the table. I could see her glass was empty so she was still drinking when I was in the bathroom. I never saw anyone this drunk before. I stood in front of her holding on to her shoulders so she wouldn't fall out of the chair. She put her arms around my waist and her head was in my crotch.

Cathy are you okay?

Joey I'm sorry I got you drunk and I'm really sorry I was staring at you in the bathroom. I'm fucking everything up. I'm so fucked up. Shit.

I tried to comfort her stroking her long brown hair and telling her everything was alright. I felt her hot breath through my tight jeans on my erection and I had a full hard-on in an instant. She knew it too and her hand began rubbing and squeezing my thick 8" prick through my jeans. I didn't know what to do or if I should do anything at all. I just kept telling her it would be okay.

It'll be okay Cathy, you'll see.

Is it okay? Really, is it?

Sure it is.

I can't say exactly how it happened, maybe she took what I was saying as encouragement but before I knew it she opened the top of my jeans, unzipped them, pushed them down and pulled out my swollen cock.

Joey, what a big strong hard cock you have.

She started kissing it from my engorged mushroom head down the shaft to the base stroking it slowly the whole time. Jacking me faster she licked my swinging full sack. She always wore bright red lipstick and she left traces of it on my shaft as she kissed it. I couldn't believe what was happening but I sure didn't want it to stop.

Does that feel good Joey?

Oh god yes!

She parted her red lips and slid her warm mouth over my throbbing swollen knob and was moving her head up and down on it. When she took it out to run her tongue around the head I could see a ring of her bright red lipstick around my cock where it had been in her mouth. I didn't know anything could be like this. She went down on it again and my cock disappeared deep inside her mouth. I started fucking her mouth and bright red lips as she clamped down on my organ. She opened her blouse and was pulling and twisting her hard nipples as I fucked her mouth and she sucked my cock. I watched her as she seemed to be lost in what we were doing. I held her head in both my hands and fucked her as I pleased pulling out of her enough so she would have to concentrate on my giant cockhead, then plunging it past her full bright red lips over and over again. 

When you're ready cum on my breasts baby, she said as she looked up at me. I put my hard meat back in her mouth and she sucked me as I played with her creamy white tits. I was going to cum and when I yelled Oh Fuck she knew it too. I lost what little control I thought I had and shot my first stream of creamy hot sperm on her bright red lips as she pulled her head off my spewing meat. She continued jacking me as my cock sprayed gushes of my thick burning sex juice all over her titties. Massaging my hot cum on her breasts and nipples she kissed my twitching prick and licked her red lips as she tasted my cum on them.

The next day she left a message at my house to come over. She said I forgot to do some of the yard work. I knocked on her door and she asked me to sit down with her in the den on the couch. She went on about how sorry she was about what happened the day before and it shouldn't have happened but it had been so long since she felt like a woman. The more she talked the less I heard and all I could do was stare at her bright red lips and I wanted my hard prick in her mouth again. She was going on and on and I didn't hear anything she said but I was hard and mesmerized by her bright red lips and mouth until I heard her say, "Do you understand?" 

I stood up, unzipped my jeans and pulled out my hard sex and shoved it in her mouth. Suck me off again I demanded. She wanted it as much as I did. She was giving me another incredible red lipstick blow-job when I said, "You know this is something else we won't be telling my mother about!" She never called me Joey again.



Mr. Joe's Wild Ride



"Hello?"

"Oh god!" I think to myself. "She's only said one word and I am already getting turned on." I respond, "Hi baby!"

"Oh Joe, where are you?" I can't help but notice her voice has lowered and taken on a flinty tone. Instantly I feel my manhood begin to rise.

"I am still about an hour and a half away, but I am pedaling as fast as I can."

"Please be careful, darling. I really missed you and I need you home in one piece."

"Don't worry. I'll be careful. What are you doing?" I ask.

There is a slight pause, and then she says softly into the phone, "Just sitting in bed, waiting for you."

My poor cock begins to stiffen uncomfortably and my foot presses a little harder on the gas pedal. It has been more than a week since we have been together. I ask coyly, "What are you wearing?"

"Oh, next to nothing...just that short, black nightie that you love. Honestly darling, I don't understand why you like it so much. I can never keep it on for more than a minute."

"Do you mean the see-through one with the matching thong?"

"Ooops! I think I forgot to put on the thong."

"Oh! You are such a naughty girl."

"Please hurry home, darling. I don't know how much longer I can wait. I am already getting wet."

My swollen cock is threatening to punch a hole in my slacks. I ask breathlessly, "What were you thinking about before I called, naughty girl?"

There is another pause, and then a throaty whisper, "I was thinking about how much I love to suck your big cock."

The throbbing in my groin is quickly becoming unbearable. "Oh baby, you know how wet that makes you. Mmmm, I can't wait to get there and taste your sweet pussy."

"Oh darling, please hurry. I painted my lips a special, deep shade of red just so they would look extra sexy when I wrap my lips around your cock." suddenly, I hear a rustle and a soft moan.

"What are you doing now, baby?"

"Mmmmm, slurp, slurp. I am sucking on my toy, practicing for when you get here."

"Are you pretending it is me?"

"Mmmmm, hmmmm. Slurp, slurp..."

"And what is that doing to your sweet pussy?"

"Oh god darling, it's so wet. Mmmmm, I just tasted myself."

I am beginning to realize that if I don't get off this call soon, I am going to have to pull over and get some relief. But I just can't hang up.

"Are you there, darling?" She asks.

"Yes baby, I am here."

"Is your cock big and hard? Is it ready for me?"

"Oh yes! It is definitely ready. Nice and hard."

"Mmmmmm, slurp, slurp... just the way I like it. I can't wait to slide my tongue all around the fat head. You always taste sooooo goooood!"

"Oh god," I moan weakly into the headset. "Tell me what else you want to do."

"I want to slide it deeper and deeper into my mouth until it tickles my tonsils. Gulp, slurp, slurp, gulp."

"Oh god baby, what was that?"

She gasps, "I slid my toy down into my throat, just the same as I do to your cock. Oh god baby, I am so wet now it is runnind down into my ass."

"Oh fuck baby. I wish I was there right now so I could watch you slide my big hard cock down your throat."

"Ohhhhh, please...mmmmmm, slurp, slurp, gulp!"

"That's it baby, pretend it is me. I can almost feel your hot mouth sucking on my hard cock." The throbbing in my cock is beyond description and my balls are beginning to tighten as well.

"Mmmmm, hmmmm...slurp, slurp..."

"Now I am getting close. Too close. Spread your legs for me baby..."

"Ahhhhh, you feel so big inside my tight pussy."

"That's right baby, fuck my big cock.Feel it slamming into you over and over again..." I am so into it now that I can feel her tight pussy squeezing my throbbing cock as I thrust myself into her again and again.

"Oh god! Oh Joe! Ohhhh!"

"Harder and faster, can you feel my cock plunging deep inside you?"

"Yes! Yes! Ooooooooooooh, yessssssssss! I'm cumming baby! Ohhhhhhhh, ahhhhhhhh!'

Suddenly, I feel a warm gush flow from the end of my throbbing cock and coat the inside of my under shorts. I gasp and pant into the phone, barely maintaining control of the car as a second jet pulses into my already messy groin. When I manage to pull myself back to the present, I can hear nothing but her rapid breathing. A moment later she says, "Mmmm that was a good warm up but I still want the real thing. Please hurry darling."

I look down at the speedometer and see that I am doing over 100 mph. I ease up on the throttle and then notice that I have only thirty miles to go. It's just enough time for my spent cock to recover. "I'll be there soon, baby. Keep your motor running."



Mr. Jones



‘Mum, I’m just fine. Really. Don’t worry about me. No, I’m having a great time. I’ll call you again at the weekend. I’ve got to go now. …No, really. Yeah, yeah, whatever. Bye. Yes. …Yes, bye mum. Goodbye. …Mum, I’ve really got to go. Okay. Goodbye.’

Finally my mother hung up. I looked around for a clock, but couldn’t see one. My watch had been put away. I decided to assume that I didn’t have long, so made sure I looked right. 

I got up off the silk sheets and walked over to the mirror to take a good look at myself. I was wearing a garter belt and stockings, in a luscious red colour that had been provided for me by the agency. I had some of my own, but these were far nicer. They were made of very sheer but soft material, I think some sort of silk, but not as shiny feeling as the sheets. The only other thing that covered me up at all was my long blonde hair, which I pulled away so that it fell down my back. I toyed with it for a little while, trying to decide whether to put it up or not, and then I heard a key at the door.

I rushed back to the bed and lay on my front, legs up behind me, resting on my elbows. Then I thought better of it, and quick moved round to rest against the headboard, my legs to one side, so that I looked fairly young and cute, but he could see a glimpse of my specially shaved pussy. I nibbled on a nail in mock anxiety.

The man opened the door and came into the room. I knew his name, it had been provided for me, though I hadn’t put it together with the man in front of me. I knew his name anyway, he was sometimes in the papers, and occasionally on chat shows and the like. He was usually quite funny. My dad, I pondered, kind of worked for him, or at least for one of his subsidiary companies. My dad often said how he had been screwed by him. In a little while I hoped to be able to say the same. For the sake of argument here I’ll call him Mr. Jones.

Mr. Jones put down his briefcase and looked at me and smiled.

‘Hello’, he said. I mumbled hello back to him shyly. He asked if I was from the agency, and I said yes. Then I gave the password I had been given, to prove it wasn’t a set-up. 

He smiled again, and asked my name. 

‘Christine’, I said. He smiled again. He had a lovely smile. I decided his pictures hadn’t really done him justice. He was actually kind of handsome, up close. And he seemed a lot younger. 

‘And how old are you, Christine?’

‘Seventeen’, I breathed. I was actually eighteen, but I had decided seventeen sounded better, don’t ask me why. Lying about my age already. And this was England, sixteen would have been legal.

‘You’re very beautiful, Christine’.

I giggled a little. ‘Thank you’.

He walked up to the bed and beckoned me over, and I shuffled over to him and got up on my knees. He put a hand gently to the back of my head and into my hair and kissed me. It was quite unexpected, and I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t quite know what to do. His tongue felt it’s way around my mouth, not forcefully but thoroughly. I think I kind of sucked on it, and licked round it. 

Mine was a very peculiar sex life, and this was only the second time I’d ever been kissed, though I’d literally lost count of the number of times I’d had sex. Kissing was nowhere as instinctive to me as I think it is with most. 

Still, he seemed to be enjoying it. And I must admit, I was too. It was a lot more intimate, somehow, than all my other experiences. I put my arms around the back of his strong neck and crossed them, hanging on to my wrists. 

After a couple of minutes he disengaged and took to kissing me on the lips less forcefully. Tentatively I leaned into him and kissed him back, pushing my own tongue forward this time. He responded in kind, and we kissed some more. Finally he disengaged altogether and let go, and reluctantly I did the same.

‘I’m feeling a little dirty’, he said, and my heart leapt. I couldn’t wait to find out exactly why I’d been engaged for the evening. To my slight disappointment he gestured toward the en-suite bathroom. ‘Would you begin running me a bath, my dear?’

I nodded, slid off the bed and walked to the bathroom, feeling his eyes at my back all the way. I tried to walk in the slinkiest way I could swaying as I walked, my ass cheeks gently sliding over each other. I turned to look at him at the door, and he was still watching me, with not a little trace of lust in his eyes. I smiled warmly at him, and then went into the bathroom.

The bathroom was huge. In my own hotel the bedroom wasn’t this big. The décor was marble tiles and slate floor, with gold fittings on everything. The bath was up a couple of steps, and then back down into a large round inset thing, with lots of holes in it for bubbles. It took me a few moments to work out how to run the bath, and then a little while to decide whether to put foam in. I had visions of bubbles everywhere, bubbling under the door into the corridor. I settled for a few salts, with a lovely strawberry and cinnamon smell, to be on the safe side.

I felt a hand on my back, and I turned round and we kissed again. He was naked, and his erect penis pushed up at my navel. He put his hand on my ass and moved his fingers into the crevice, stroking my anus tenderly. I moved my own hands down to his, and felt his hairy, muscular behind, then moved a hand round until I was cupping his scrotum, feeling it’s soft suede texture beneath my hand. 

We stopped kissing and he reached around behind me and turned off the water. He tested the water with his hand, and turned on the cold tap briefly to reduce the temperature. ‘Why don’t you join me?’, He said.

I nodded and unfastened my garter and removed it, laying it on the floor. ‘Here, allow me’, he said. I sat on the cold marble steps and lifted up a leg, and he took the stocking and rolled it gently down my leg, stroking my leg with one hand as he went. When he reached the end he placed the stocking by the garter down on the floor, and then kissed my foot before placing that down on the floor as well. Then he moved to the other leg, and did the same.

When I was completely naked he stepped down into the warm bath, and sat down on its floor, the water up around his chest. There was a seat in the water behind him , and I took the hint and stepped down next to him, and sat down on the edge of the bath, easing myself down, my legs around him. He turned round and looked up at me quickly before putting his hands on my hips and pulling his face into my open cunt. I gasped and lay back a little, steadying myself with my arms out behind me.

His tongue was even more skilful in my clit than it had been in my mouth. He licked carefully all around the inside before setting up a rhythm against the roof of my vagina. I was crying out with each lap, high tones of genuine ecstasy. I came, and he swallowed voraciously before climbing up to sit beside me and give him a long, lingering kiss which I submitted to willingly, the taste of my own cum filling my senses.

I wanted to return the favour so I slipped down into the water to taste him. His cock wasn’t much bigger than average, maybe six inches, but it was very thick, and even I couldn’t get much of the huge head in my mouth. I made do with licking it and teasing it with my lips, but I could see that I wasn’t going to be able to complete anything that way.

I sat back up on the marble, lay back and opened my legs wide, tucking my feet under me and resting them on the edge of the bath, my vagina hanging open expectantly. He splashed around and entered my forcefully and began fucking me slowly, but I could see that the combination of the heat and my own orgasm and moisture had made me too open. 

As gently as I could I pushed him away and lifted up my feet to rest on his shoulders, he still kneeling in the bath. I hoped that he didn’t have anything against this sort of thing. He didn’t. Without a moments hesitation he pushed his thick cock into my ass. The sensation was marvelous. To this day I have never come just from being fucked up the ass, but I always enjoy it, and have teetered on the brink oh-so-many times. 

Mister Jones was enjoying it too. He was crying out with pleasure, and so was I. ‘Tell me you like it’ he said.

‘Oh, I do’, I answered truthfully. ‘I do, so much. Oh, god, yes. I love to feel your cock in my ass. Yes. Yes, fuck it.’ I reached down with a free hand and gripped my clit hard, so that each thrust banged into my hand, sending waves of pleasure up my body. 

‘Oh, god, yes! I’m going to cum again! You’re making me cum!’ And I did, screaming with joy. Seconds later he gave out a yell and came too, a wave of cum filling my arse, and dripping down into the water, a joyous sensation that many are denied these days.

He collapsed down on top of me, and laughed. He kissed me on the lips, and then on the forehead. He eased himself out of me, and settled back down into the water. He reached for the shampoo. I had been dismissed.

I had been briefed. I picked up my sparse clothing, and went back into the bedroom. I picked up my bag, and removed my thin dress from it, and my sandals. Slipped them on, and left quietly.

‘Mister Jones is a busy man’, the note had said. ‘As soon as he is finished you will leave.’

The elevator was empty, and I reached under my dress to scrape a sliver of cum from sliding down my legs. It tasted sweet, a little like the cinnamon that the bathroom had smelt of.

I have done many things for money over the years, but leaving that room was one of the hardest. 



Mr Jones



I twirled my long, caramel coloured hair in my fingers as I gazed at Mr Jones, my A-level maths teacher. For the last month of his lessons I had had done nothing but fantasize about him. My innocent crush of the last few years had turned into a strong desire to be with this man. I wanted to feel his arms around me, to feel his lips crushing against mine, and more than anything I wanted him to fuck me.

Sex never was a subject I had thought much about. That was until my 18th birthday last month when I lost my virginity. I spent my birthday at a club with a couple close friends from college and ended up meeting up with some guys from our college. There was one guy, Luke, that I knew had a crush on me. He was always looking at my tits or ass and although I never saw him in a 'boyfriend' way, he was very attractive and I decided that I wanted to lose my virginity to him that night. I went back to his and we had some, well, mediocre sex. He just didn't do it for me, he didn't focus on my pleasure at all and it was over in only a few minutes. I didn't even orgasm. Why would this make crave sex you wonder? Well I just felt the potential, and needed a real man with experience to show me how great it could be. 

Mr Jones seemed so perfect to me. He was tall with a muscular body, he had dark hair and deep, intense brown eyes. He was one of the younger teachers in our college, probably in his early thirties. But despite being young he had so much wisdom, he was a great teacher with the perfect balance between being stern and having a joke. He treated us like adults, and I liked that.

I would masturbate while thinking about him every day that I saw him. I would strip slowly in front of the mirror, inspecting my petite body, wondering what he'd think of it. I'd wonder if he'd like my perk, B cup tits, my shaved little pussy and my bouncy ass cheeks. I'd make up scenarios in my head while I spread my little pussy lips and rubbed my clit with one finger and with the other hand would slowly push a finger or two in and out of my tight hole. Sometime I'd imagine him punishing me by spanking me then roughly fucking me from behind while I was bent over his desk. Sometimes I'd imagine sucking his cock while he sat in his desk chair, moaning from the pleasure I was giving him. But no matter what scenario I came up with, thinking of Mr Jones ALWAYS made me cum.

"Yes Mr Jones, don't stop!" I'd moan as my juices streamed down my hand and my body erupted in orgasm.

I loved making myself cum, but I longed for my teacher to pleasure me in any way possible.

"Cassey, did you get that?" Suddenly I was snapped out of my daydream by Mr Jones's stern voice. His eyes were staring directly into mine. I gulped. Even this was enough to turn me on.

"Yes, Sir." I lied, crossing my legs as I felt my pussy tingle.

"Good." He said bluntly before continuing with the lesson. God, there was just something about this man that drove me crazy. No matter how hard I tried all I could think of was being with him, any time, any place. I just wanted him more than anything.

I continued to fantasize until the loud school bell abruptly interrupted my thoughts. Everyone started to pack away and leave the room. I packed my school work into my bag extra slowly, just so I could stay near Mr Jones for a little longer.

Once I was the only student left in the room Mr Jones slowly the door and shut it then sat back on the edge of his desk.

"Could I talk to you for a moment, Cassey?" He asked, while giving me that smouldering look I love so much. His question made me a little nervous.

"Of course, sir." I replied quietly, moving round to sit on a desk at the front to be closer to him.

"Your work seems to have gone downhill of the last few weeks, I'm a little worried about you. Your exams are only a couple of months away. Is there some kind of problem?" He asked.

Even just having this conversation with him made me want him. "Um, no I don't think there's a problem."

He looked down a smirked for a brief moment. "Well I think there is." He stated, "You seem distracted, and I've seen the way you watch me during lessons. Am I distracting you?"

Shit. He knows. What was I supposed to say to that? I gulped and looked down at the floor, desperately trying to think of a logical answer to his question that would not make me seem completely crazy. Clearly he noticed how uncomfortable his question made me feel and started to speak again before I could come up with an answer.

"Don't be nervous." He said quietly, "I like it, the way you look at me and think about me." He suddenly turned serious, "Tell me you want me."

His words shocked me. Was he seriously saying this? He likes that I think about him?! It took me a few seconds to pull my thoughts together before I finally said in a serious voice, "I want you, sir."

"Good. Tell me what you think about when you're staring at me." He said, staring right into my eyes. I was so surprised and nervous that I could hardly breathe.

"I think about..." I paused, "What it would be like to be with you. I think about you fucking me." 

"And does that make you horny?" he asked, with a slight grin.

"Yes, sir." I replied. Even this conversation was turning me on like crazy. I knew this wasn't right, since I'm his student but I just wanted it so bad. I couldn't even believe this conversation was happening.

He got off the desk he was sat on and slowly walked towards me, still looking deep into my eyes. He stood directly in front of me while I sat on the desk. I slightly opened my legs and he instinctively moved in between them so he was stood as close to me as possible. Even the smell of his cologne made me want him, more than I thought possible. I could feel my pussy getting wetter by the second.

Still staring into my eyes, he slowly pushed my blazer down my arms until it was off. Then his eyes moved to my white school shirt. He moved his hands up to the top of my shirt and slowly undid all of the buttons until it was wide open and my white lace bra was revealed. He held my waist for a moment as he examined my body. His eyes moved back to meet mine as he moved his hands up my body until he gently placed them on the sides of my neck.

"You're amazing." He said quietly, then he suddenly moved towards me and gave me the best kiss of my life. His soft lips were sweet yet firm and passionate. The kiss caught me off guard but I responded eagerly, allowing him to explore my mouth with his tongue. I grabbed onto his tie so I could pull him even closer to me. That's when I first felt his hard cock press into my lace panties. Oh God it felt so big! His cock pressed against my clit through the fabric and already made me feel a million times better than any of the times I had touched myself. His kiss became firmer and I could tell he wanted me as much as I wanted him.

I loosened his tie and broke the kiss for a quick moment while I removed it over his head. I unbuttoned his shirt and let my hands explore his toned body as we continued to passionately kiss. He slowly allowed his hand to drop from my neck and run down the front of my body down to my thighs. He slightly pushed up my skirt and put his hands on my bare thighs, very close to my pussy. His hands moved back up my body and he cupped my breasts with both hands, sending shivers down my spine.

Mr Jones moved his hands around to my back and expertly unclasped my bra, exposing my perk tits and hard nipples. He began to slowly kiss down my neck, paying attention to every inch of skin. I felt so good as he placed a mixture a gentile and hard kisses down my neck, onto my collar bone and down my left breast.

"Wow that feels so good!" I gasped as he took my left nipple into his mouth. He flicked his tongue across my nipple and gently nibbled is as he pinched the other one. I ran my hands through his hair as he switched sides. It felt amazing, but I needed more.

I leant back on the desk using one hand to keep myself balanced. I kicked off my shoes and I opened my legs widely, then using the other hand I put it on top of his and moved it down from my nipple, slowly towards my pussy. I began to guide his hand around my lace covered pussy, rubbing gently in circles. I moaned as his fingers grazed my clit.

Mr Jones leaned towards me to whisper, "You're so wet, Cassey." I think even those words made me hornier! 

He took control of pleasuring my sensitive pussy. He pulled my panties and skirt down my legs until they fell to the ground.

"Beautiful." He whispered as he stared at my now naked body.

He pulled me in for another powerful kiss as he pushed two fingers into my pussy.

"Oh God!" I screamed as pleasure took over my body. I struggled to even kiss while he was pushing his fingers in and out of my pussy, pressing on my g-spot each time. All I could do was moan with delight. I couldn't even believe it was happening. My maths teacher was going to make me cum!

"Oh yes, sir. Keep going, make me cum! YES!" I moaned as I could feel my body building up to the most powerful orgasm I had ever had. I completely lost my breath and my body shook as the orgasm took over my body.

Mr Jones slowed his fingers as I recovered. He smiled. "So you like it when your teacher fingers that tight pussy, do you?"

"I love it, sir." Was all I could say.

"Good." He said gently, before leaving a trail of soft kisses down my neck and stomach to just above my pussy. He used both hands to spread my pussy lips and gently flicked his tongue up and down my slit. He nibbled at my clit which was still sensitive from the orgasm, forcing me to moan out load. I needed Mr Jones.

"Please fuck me sir!" I begged as he licked my pussy juices.

"Of course." He grinned.

He wrapped my arms and legs around his muscular body and lifted me off the table I was sat on and moved me onto his big desk so that I was laying down with my pussy at the end of the desk. Sir unbuttoned his trousers and freed his amazing cock. It was so long and thick, even better than I had pictured it in my fantasies. He pushed down his trousers and boxers then held his cock at the entrance of my pussy.

"I've wanted to fuck you for a while now, Cassey. You're so sexy and when I thought you were fantasising it drove me crazy picturing it." Mr Jones moaned. 

"I've needed your huge cock in my pussy for so long now, sir!" I moaned, causing him to thrust his cock into my pussy. He only went in halfway at first to allow me to adjust but it felt amazing and was enough to make me scream with pleasure. He slowly pushed the rest of his cock into me and it was like nothing I had felt before. I could have stayed in that moment forever. He began to plunge his cock in and out of my pussy, getting quicker as our moans got louder. "Oh, yes!"

My body was experiencing all new highs I could have never imagined possible. And knowing my teacher was causing this immense pleasure made it all the more hot! I grabbed the back of Mr Jones's head and pulled him so he was leaning on top of me, allowing us to kiss and twirl our tongues around each other's mouths. I could taste the juices from my pussy as his tongue flickered in and out of my mouth. 

After a few minutes of my teacher fucking me this way, he turned me around and again bent me over the desk. He slapped my ass then plunged his amazing cock back into my pussy and fucked me from behind just like he had in my fantasies! 

I could already feel that another orgasm was about to take over my body. The feeling of this man fucking me was so intense.

"Oh I'm cumming, sir. Don't stop! Yes, yes YES!" I screamed as my second orgasm of the day erupted around my entire body.

As my orgasm slowed I turned around and pushed Mr Jones onto his desk chair. He looked surprised but smiled as I planted kisses down his body until I got to his cock. I could hardly wrap my hand around his huge cock. He moaned as I slowly took the head of his cock into my warm little mouth and flicked my tongue across the slit. I moved my other hand to his balls and massaged them as I slowly moved his cock further into my mouth and began bobbing my head up and down. He tasted amazing and it made me feel so good to make him moan in pleasure. 

"That's it baby, suck my cock. Ah, yes." He moaned.

My pace got quicker and as I got use to his size I began to take more of his cock into my mouth.

"You're gonna make me cum. Yes, that's it, keep going. Oh, I'm cumming!" He exclaimed as he shot his load into my mouth. I struggled to swallow it all but didn't want to disappoint my teacher! I licked my lips and licked the entire length of his cock as he began to calm down. 

I got up and straddled him on the chair. He traced his hands up my body and placed them at the back of my head, gently grabbing a handful of my hair and he looked into my eyes.

"Wow." He whispered.

"That was incredible, sir!" I sighed.

"You know what, after what's just happened I don't think you have to call me 'sir'!" Mr Jones laughed.

"I know. But I like it! It feels naughtier!" I giggled.

"Well you're definitely a naughty girl!" He said.

We stood up and slowly began to dress. I didn't know what to think about what had just happened. It was amazing and I wanted to do it again and again and again. But what if Mr Jones only thought of it as a one time thing?

"Want to come back to mine with me?" Mr Jones asked with that serious look in his eyes.

Maybe it wasn't going to be a one-time thing after all.