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I know she likes how warm my tongue is as it glides over her flushed clit. She’s such a sensitive little bitch, her hips jerking and bucking when I spread her pussy to get direct access to her throbbing clit. I have to wrap both arms around her quivering thighs just to keep her steady.
I don’t know who she thinks she’s fooling with those little whimpers and cries. “No, stop!” she says. “It’s too much, I can’t take it!” she says. I have every intention to make her take it, and she’ll thank me for it because she’s a slut.
I would happily drown in her. She tastes like how kisses feel—obscene and heady. It’s hard to describe, but as I take my time working her into a quivering mess, I can dwell on it. Laden with pheromones. Sweet, a little salty. Bitter—that’s familiar, but not her.
Her pink inner folds are warm and silky on my tongue. I switch between delicately tracing her labia with the tip of my tongue and delving into her cunt like a man starved. She clamps her thighs around my head, but it’s never to urge me to stop. She couldn’t stop me if she tried.
She’s so pretty like this—helpless. Someone with so much drive and resolve turning into a whimpering puddle for me to lick up. There’s something so satisfying about it, about being the one to bring about her metamorphosis into the perfect little submissive. Maybe that’s why she keeps me around, and maybe it’s why I can’t bring myself to let her go.
Don’t get me wrong, she’s strong—too strong sometimes. Thick-skulled, mouthy. Curious to a fault. She gets into trouble, and I think part of her welcomes that trouble knowing I’ll be there to kick trouble’s ass. I know she can take those idiots, the ones at school that bite off more than they can chew with her. She can take me. So why does she let me hop in and save the day? More importantly, why do I keep humouring her?
It’s probably that dopey fucking look on her face when she sees me rolling up my sleeves. Last time it happened, I was in a pissy fuckin’ mood. I was ready to beat that plump boy’s ass. Greasy fucker slipped away before I could get a good grip. When I turned back to her, she threw her arms around me. Eyes big and wet, like she was going to moan out, “My hero!” in a light and airy voice like some kind of cheesy cartoon. I would probably punch her if she ever did. My uncle would say I need a better outlet for my emotions, but fuck him. She's all the outlet I need, and she doesn't seem to mind when I take it out on her.
“Whitney,” she moans, bordering on screaming. She’s close again. I pull away to tease her down from the precipice. She rolls her hips forward to chase my tongue, but I tighten my grip around her hips.
“I’m not done with you,” I say. She looks down at me with this pitiful look of exasperation. I have to hold back the urge to bark out a laugh. God, she’s cute. That little pout gets me.
I hate how tightly she has me wound around her finger. The lads would never let me hear the end of it if they found out. Found out how much I think about her, about the way her hair shines in the midday sun. The rain is never grey when she’s around. She’s so fucking beautiful, and she’s mine. I didn’t think I’d ever find something so good in this godforsaken town. She threads her fingers in my hair as I kiss up the insides of her thighs. If she thinks that will make me more amenable to her demands, she’s absolutely correct. I can’t help the way I lean into her touch. It's always so hard to ignore when the lads are watching, but I have to. I throw her on the ground and treat her like meat. I’m lucky that she likes it, that she never fights me (too much). My friends would lose respect for me if they knew about the mushy things I try to hide from them. Here, in an empty classroom after school, they aren’t around to judge when I decide to indulge.
“Please,” she whispers hoarsely. The clock on the classroom wall says I’ve been at it for forty minutes already. Time flies.
“Keep begging.” I lightly scrape my teeth against her femoral artery. The skin there throbs in time with her pulse. “Beg me like the bitch you are.”
“I am a bitch.” She sounds like she’s going to cry. “I’m a needy fucking bitch, Whitney. I need your tongue. God, you’re so fucking good at oral—“
I blow on her clit. Her thighs tremble.
“Trying to stroke my ego, slut? That’s playing dirty.”
She laughs breathlessly. “No, playing dirty is keeping me edged for an hour.”
“Forty minutes, but if you want longer, I can oblige.”
She groans and falls back onto the desk, boneless. “You said this was a reward for being good,” she whines shakily.
“It is.”
“It feels more like torture.”
“Aww,” I can’t help but croon. “Poor, sensitive baby gonna cry?”
I switch gears, going back to abusing her pussy with my powerful tongue. I lap hard at her clit, and plunge my middle finger into her plush heat. She squeezes tight, even if it is just a single finger. Always so damned tight. She starts humping into my face and I grin despite myself. I like it when she’s needy. When she needs me.
“Whitney,” she cries out, “Wh-Whitney, p-please—Ah… oh, fuuuuuck—don’t stop! Please, god, keep going! So… S-So close…”
Her pussy throbs around my finger as I abuse it with rapid strokes. Her voice warbles in time with the movement, and my arm is starting to ache, but I don’t fucking care. She’s my slut and I’m going to make her come. She’s going to come so hard that she forgets her own damn name, and all she can remember is mine. I only wish I could get this moment on camera to shove in everyone’s face. I want to show her needy ass off to the whole school. I’m proud to own this perfect fucking girl, and I want everyone to know that she’s mine.
But this isn’t a moment I want aired to the public. I’m not forcing my cock down her throat, nor am I riding her in front of a crowded pub. I’m not stripping her naked or forcing her to submit to me for my own sadistic pleasure. These moments are few and far between, the ones where I don’t have to perform for an audience. This moment is for her. It's a reward.
When she comes, I don’t stop fucking her through it. Even as her muscles clamp down around my finger and her thighs stutter, I hold fast. She starts to get loud, mewling and shuddering and gasping. It makes my cock throb, listening to her sexy fucking cries. Fuck, she's getting even louder. I don’t want to get caught by the janitor again. I stand up and latch my hand around her mouth, but I don't dare stop fingering her. Not when I'm having too much turning her into a fucked out little puddle in River's classroom.
“Shut up,” I whisper. “You’re gonna get us caught, and I’m not done with you still.”
I finally slow my pace when she nears the end of her release. She pries my hand away from her mouth, and instead of barking out some demand to stop, she kisses the inside of my wrist. The tender gesture catches me off guard. The tenderness always does. It’s new. I’ve only ever known how to bruise and bite. She brings my hand to her supple cheek, flushed and warm, and I can’t help but take more pride in knowing that I’m the one that made her like this. She nuzzles into my palm before looking up at me.
“I’m sorry,” she pants. “I’ll be good.”
My hand cards through her messy hair as it splays over the desk. “I know. Now bend over.”
I catch her when her legs turn to jelly as she tries to comply. Her whole body trembles, and I laugh and call her a slut. She manages to throw herself over the desk, and I flip her skirt over her perfect ass. It’s hard to resist kneading it in my hands, spreading her ass cheeks to reveal her engorged little cunt. My tongue licks a stripe from her clit all the way up to the pucker of her asshole. I linger there when I feel her tense up. Maybe I should get her plug, start training this hole to take me whenever I want. Bet I could get her to wear it to school. Nothing under this flimsy little skirt to hide a pretty silver plug, keeping her ready for me. I file the thought away for later.
I smack the soft fat of her ass, the sharp sound cutting through the empty classroom. She whimpers and bites her knuckles, but she sways her hips enticingly. “It’s probably not a good idea to do it raw today,” she says. It’s quiet, so quiet I almost didn’t hear her over the roar of hot blood in my ears.
“Damn,” I say. I’m still unfastening my trousers and letting them drop to my ankles. My cock is so hard, it’s almost painful. “Then we should probably stop, huh?”
“Probably.”
Her warm fingers wrap around my length, guiding me to her fluttering cunt.
This is bad. This is so, so bad.
Her pussy makes the lewdest squelching noise when she presses the tip between her full lips. It’s like looking down the barrel of a shotgun.
“Don’t you usually have condoms?” I ask, glancing at her purse on the floor. It’s not even three feet away, but I’m already pushing my hips forward.
She whimpers. “Yeah.”
Neither of us make any effort to stop. The sound of her soaked pussy swallowing my cock is the only thing we can focus on. God, she’s warm. Like a fucking oven.
I get about a quarter of the way inside before I hit resistance and have to pull back again.
“Fuck,” she says. “C-Can’t you pull out when you're about to...?”
“Ngh… Not with your slutty cunt sucking me in like this.”
I don’t know why I’m making excuses. The last thing I need is a rugrat. Her pussy does have a fucking iron grip, though.
“Ah… Then… Then you’re paying for half the morning-after pill.”
“Fine, but I’m gonna get my fucking money’s worth.”
“Yeah? You gonna breed your little slut in the maths classroom, Whitney?”
Whore. God, she’s such a fucking whore. How dare she say that to me? Knowing full well that I could never resist her vulgar fucking begging. She already had the best head of her life, an orgasm so intense she nearly had a fucking aneurysm. Where does she get off thinking she can make demands from me? She needs to be taught a lesson.
I grab her hips for leverage and slam all the way inside, her comfort be damned. She lurches on the desk and clasps both hands over her mouth to stifle her cries. I lean over her back, sweeping away her hair from her shoulder to expose the shell of her ear. She shudders as my hot breath ghosts over the cartilage. My right hand settles on her shoulder while the left steadies her hips against me.
“No. Today, I’m gonna break her.”
I thrust deep. I want to rearrange her guts to mould to my shape, perfect little cocksleeve that she is. My grip on her body is rough enough to leave bruises. Her back arches like a filthy work of art, and both of my hands clasp around her throat as I fuck her raw and dirty.
She’s so beautiful like this. Her lips part as she struggles for breath. God, I’m addicted. I’m addicted to this fucking slut’s mouth.
“Open,” I say. She obeys without a second thought, and the power rush goes straight to my cock. I thrust inside her cunt and cram against her cervix, holding myself there as I gather a wad of spit and hurl it into her mouth.
She swallows, and then opens her mouth again to ask for more.
“Bitch,” I say to mask my awe. I shouldn’t be this affected by a girl, but here I fucking am. The submission in her gaze is hypnotic. I start to wonder who’s really the bitch between us, but I push that thought aside. I’m not ready to confront it yet.
I pick up a slow, but violent pace as I hold her pretty neck.
In...
Then a pause for effect, letting her moan linger in the air...
And then slowly, languidly...
Drawing out...
While I suck her bottom lip...
And repeat.
I can feel when her breath catches in her throat every time I plunge inside her velvet heat. I can’t help myself and bite her bottom lip, just enough to tease. I’m not trying to draw blood. I’m trying to make love.
“Pretty,” I hiss after another resolute thrust, digging deep in her fucking guts. “When you look fucked out like this.”
She's a desperate slut, so desperate for my approval that her pussy clenches around me when she hears anything close to a compliment. I'll never get tired of having that effect on her.
“Take a picture,” she grins breathlessly. “It’ll last longer.”
“Nah.” I draw her into a kiss. “Won’t be the same.”
My hands leave her neck so I can grab her luscious fucking hips and slam her back against me with my thrusts. She lets loose this high pitched little yip before she groans deeper, from her throat, when I find a good, steady rhythm. I don’t remember consciously seeking out her clit, but I find myself rubbing lazy figure eights around the swollen little thing. She clamps down on me again, and I’m fighting a losing battle. I’ve got a reputation to uphold, but her pussy is better than any smear campaign. Tight, god, so fucking tight. I feel sweat dripping down my temple as her squeals ring in my ears. She’s not quiet, and honestly, I don’t want her to be. Hearing her scream is better than therapy. Fucking janitor is a pervert, anyway. Bet he'd pay me just to watch me fuck my bitch.
“I’m gonna fucking come,” I rasp in her ear. Even I’m surprised by the strain in my voice. “Gonna knock you up. You want that, slut?”
“P-Please! God, give me your baby. Breed me like a whore.”
“My whore. Pretty fucking whore.” My teeth itch until they’re embedded in the soft meat of her shoulder, right at the junction of her neck. She gasps and clutches the edges of the table for stability. I take it as a challenge to knock her back down with the intensity of my hips. It’s disgusting, the hot and sweaty plap plap plap of my groin smacking into her ass. The air of the classroom feels humid and thick, and I can feel the sweat rolling down my back. I’m fucking her so hard that I can’t even feel anything around my cock anymore, just the warmth of her cunt and some burning friction that’s probably going to chafe my cock something wicked. I need to slow down to get anywhere, but why the fuck would I do that when I’ve got her crying big, fat, overstimulated tears?
I watch her nails dig into the fucking laminate, the tips of her fingers turning white. If anyone would walk in, they would find her drooling and red-faced, tears staining her cheeks. If this town cared about that sort of thing, I’d be hauled off to the pillory. The funny part is that she'd probably come harder if I was raping her.
She cries and cries and cries, then seizes up as another orgasm rips through her body like lightning. "Yeah? You coming again, bitch?" I leer at her. "Filthy fucking slut likes when her boyfriend bullies her so hard she cries. F...Fucking perverted little shit, aren't you?"
She goes back to blubbering like an idiot. It’s the hottest shit I’ve ever seen. Face red and wet, a bloody fucking mess. She's so fucking beautiful when I ruin her, when I fuck her so hard she's reduced to tears, but I know she loves it. She's...
I stop.
“Hey,” I murmur, but she doesn’t hear me. “Slut?”
She cries.
"Slut? Hey, I'm fucking talking to you."
She hiccoughs and gasps, but doesn't answer me. This isn't right.
I step back and her legs give way. She crumples to the ground, still crying. God, so much crying.
I’m still trying to catch my breath, but I drop to my knees, too, and draw her in my arms. I get a good look at her face and she looks fucking miserable. More so than usual, at least. Fuck it. I pull her into my lap and hug her. I hug her like it’ll be the last time I ever do. What else am I supposed to do? I fucking broke her. Fuck. Fucking shit. I didn't mean to. I was just trying to... I—
“I-I’m so—o—orryyyy,” she hiccoughs.
“What? Sorry? For what?”
“C-Crying.”
My sigh catches in my throat. “Just let it out, you stupid crybaby.” I rub her back, burying my nose in her hair, in the crook of her neck. It smells like strawberries. She always smells so fucking good. Her stuttering shoulders slow after some time. I pet her while she comes down. She likes to be petted. I hate that I know that.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs shakily. She sniffles wetly and buries her face into my chest, ashamed. “I‘m sorry, Whitney. Thought I could handle it.”
“It’s okay.”
“I can—” She clears her throat and pulls away, trying to wipe her face back into composure. Her eyes are red and glassy. “I can blow you. So you can finish.”
“Not hard anymore.” It comes off much more aloof than I anticipated.
Her shoulders slacken. “Sorry.”
I rub my face in my hands, the dread in my gut feeling thick and stupid and weird and wrong and god-fucking-damnit.
“Are you gonna be okay?" I ask, letting my frustration out in my tone. "Is it something I did? Something I said?”
Why do I fucking care?
“I don’t know,” she says, responding to all my questions at once. “I just. It was too much.”
I scoff at her. "Fucking figures." I'm tugging her back into my embrace before I can even stop myself. "Never should have fucking stopped."
"Yeah," she says quietly. "I'm sorry." Another few seconds pass in silence. "But thank you for doing it anyway."
I don't say anything because I don't know how to respond. I don’t like feeling powerless. I don’t like when I can’t roll up my sleeves to hop in, throw a few jabs at the nearest sod with his dick in his hand, and save the day. What I do decide on saying comes out slowly, like pulling teeth. The words taste bitter, strange. Cottony and thick. “What do you need from me?” I suppress the urge to dry heave.
She laughs when she looks at me. She claps her hands over her mouth after recognizing the massive fucking mistake she just made.
“What? What the hell is so funny?”
She giggles through her fingers, her eyes full of mirth. “Nothing.”
“Doesn’t sound like nothing.”
“You just.” She smiles at me. It’s not a sad smile. It’s genuine, reaching all the way up to her red, tear-stained eyes. “You’re trying. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I guess.” The sour bite at the end is driven by my sheer confusion by this whole situation. I have no idea what just happened, I've been forced to show compassion to this slut against my bloody will, and now I have the worst case of fucking blue balls.
She kisses my cheek, and my first instinct is to snatch her arm. My eyes bore into hers, searching for the understanding that nothing has changed between us. Even if I did just wordlessly admit that I would do anything for her. The look I get back is sweet and loving, pink and golden. Her eyes are glassy and big, so fucking big. I hate how weak they make me. I hate how much I actually want her to moan out, “My hero!” when I save her ass from whatever shit she gets into. I can’t help the way my eyes are drawn to her lips. They’re swollen and feathered. I imagine mine are in the same shape as I steal another kiss. She tastes like ocean brine, like the last night we spend in this fucked up little harbour town before I take her away and never look back.
She kisses me back, and suddenly we’re rolling on the floor. She ends up on top, and I let her. I’m glad she’s okay, but I don’t want to try my luck and push her too far again. Her pretty cunt kisses the shaft of my cock as she rolls her hips down against me. Our lips are glued together, kisses getting hotter and needier. My hands gather in her hair, tugging near the roots like I know she likes. The little moans this earns me stirs my cock back to life, and soon she’s guiding me back inside her tight heat.
She’s too good at milking me. Between the blue balls and the forty minutes of intermittent erections, I’m lucky to last as long as I do. She’s still a little awkward at riding me, so I take over at the last minute. Her tits jiggle as I piston my hips up into her plush cunt. She’s fucking beautiful when she takes every drop of my cum.
She hovers on top of me and we kiss like the horny teenagers we are. River would blow a fucking gasket if she knew what we do in her classroom.
When I kiss her, there’s nothing left in this world but us. I hate it. I hate feeling her wet mouth on mine and her soft hands skittering across my chest. I hate it because I love it.
I can’t believe I found a girl like her in this fucking town. She's everything I’ve ever wanted, and despite everything, she wants me, too. She’s not a product of this shithole, just a spectator waiting to leave it all behind. I'll take her with me. I plan to hate kissing her for the rest of my life.
But why the fuck am I telling you all this? Piss off. I got things to do.