Cherry Pie
“You’re—! I’m—!” I start to tumble, losing myself as the man I’ve crushed on for years claims me for the very first time and pushes me right towards the edge of my orgasm.
“Make me come, Mr. B!” I whimper, bouncing up and down his fat cock as I start to fall. He’s so big, and so thick inside of me, and as he hits that spot inside again and again and again, I know there’s no holding back.
“I’m—I’m coming!” I squeal into his lips. “I’m coming, Mr. B!”
Screaming the name I’ve used for my best friend’s dad instead of “Marshall” comes out of nowhere, but somehow, it makes the whole thing even hotter, and filthier, and even more wrong, and as I scream out “Mr. B” one more time, I start to fall.
And I fall hard.
I cry out, my whole body rippling and arching against him as I drop down and take every inch of his cock deep inside of me. The orgasm hit me like a brick wall, knocking the wind out of me and sending me reeling as I come again and again on him, panting his name as I crush my lips to his and rake my nails down his chest. Marshall roars, plunging into me, fucking me right through my climax and right into another one as his mouth hungrily swallows my cries.
He keeps fucking me, almost holding me in place as he thrusts his hips and drives his big, gorgeous cock in and out of me as he kisses me fiercely. Suddenly, he grunts, pulling away, the both of us moaning as he plunges in and out.
“Are you on the pill?” He groans.
I bite my lip, shaking my head and barely hanging on as I start to tumble into another climax.
“Shit,” Marshall growls, and suddenly, I gasp as he stands, lifting me like I weigh nothing at all and spinning us around. He plants me in the chair, his cock never leaving me as he spreads my legs around his hips and starts to truly fuck me. His eyes blaze into mine, his hands grip my hips, pinning me to chair as he plunges in and out of my tight little cunt.
One of his thumbs drifts to my pussy, rolling my clit hard as he sinks his cock to the hilt inside of me, and suddenly, somehow, I’m coming again for him. I start to tighten up around him, crying out as the climax thunders through me, when suddenly, Marshall’s whole body tightens, and his eyes blaze blue fire.
“Kendall—”
With a roar of pleasure, he suddenly pulls free of me, his hand wrapping around his thick cock—glistening and slick with my pussy—and he starts to stroke. I watch, eyes wide, as his cock swells so fucking hard and thick, before suddenly, he grunts. I gasp as the thick, white ropes of his cum spurt out of his swollen head, splattering down in hot, sticky lines across my tummy. He roars, his hand pumping his cock over and over as more of his cum erupts out and over me, covering my pussy, my thighs, my stomach—even a few spurts that land in crisscrossed streaks over my breasts.
He let’s go of his cock, his hands plant on either side of my head against the back of the chair, and in one swoop, he’s leaning down and searing his lips to mine. I moan softly, wrapping my legs around his muscled waist and just losing myself in this moment and every single forbidden one that’s led up to it as I kiss him slow and deep, like I never want to stop kissing him.
…And I don’t.
“Kendall,” he murmurs, kissing me slowly.
“That…” I swallow, kissing him right back. “That was everything I fantasized it would be.”
He chuckles. “Well, except I’m guessing the fantasy involved a guy your own ag—”
I shake my head, my eyes never leaving his.
“The fantasy involved you,” I whisper heatedly. “Every. Single. Time.”
We pause for a quarter of a second, before suddenly, he’s kissing me ferociously. I moan as he scoops me up, standing with me in his arms, legs around his waist. He turns and starts to stride towards his en suite bathroom, his lips never leaving mine.
Chapter 8
Marshall
Somewhere between feeling her come for me—her sweet little cunt gripping my cock so tight it felt like my brain might shut off—and spurting my cum across her skin, I stop caring about how wrong this is.
Somehow, in that moment where I somehow found the strength to actually pull out of her unprotected, bare little pussy, the ramifications of what we’re doing fade away. Or maybe they’re still there, but I tune them out entirely, until it’s just her and I in that moment. Because after what happens, I’m not looking at her as “the girl from down the street,” or “Amy’s best friend,” or “the barely legal little cock tease I shouldn’t be anywhere near.”