Beg Me-Sold to My Dad's Boss

But that was only the beginning. Watching the brunette take my shaft in her pussy, watching those sweet, swollen lips part over my dickhead and then slide wetly down my pole, gripping it close, praying to never let go? Fuck, I could feel the sperm boiling in my balls, my body under iron control as I fought not to release in two seconds, fought to make it last as that tiny cunt tasted dick for the first time. And she’d wanted it so bad, needed it so desperately that yeah, she’d popped her own cherry, fucked herself on me until that hymen broke.

So yeah, I’m an obscene motherfucker, not exactly Mr. Nice Guy, but I’ve never pretended to be otherwise. I’m rude, arrogant, domineering, and women do what I say, when I want and how I want. And now that we’d breached Lindy’s barrier, it was time to set down some rules.

“Baby,” I drawled, “You warm enough?”

Because I’d taken her downstairs to get a sandwich, sex takes a lot of energy and god, the little girl didn’t know anything, she’d only just lost her v-card. So she was happily nibbling away, which made me smirk inside, the extra calories would help her put on more padding, make her extra sassy when she was in bed.

And the brunette nodded, her curvy form ensconced in my thick terry cloth bath robe.

“Yeah, Mr. Jones, I’m really toasty thanks. And thanks for making me this ham sandwich, you really have a way around the kitchen, I’d never guess.”

I grinned at her again.

“No worries, it’s partly the ingredients, they’re high-quality so it’d taste amazing no matter how you slap it together. For example, the Serrano ham is straight from Italy,” I said smoothly. “Twenty bucks a pound, and each slice as thin as paper.”

The brunette nodded before taking another bite, her eyes almost closing as she bit into the thick sourdough coated with mayo. I looked on approvingly. Oh yeah, the little girl was already learning that it was better not to argue, better not to put up a fight, everything would work out if you just listened and obeyed.

Because I wanted everything to go smoothly, and for that, there were rules.

“Lindy,” I drawled, casually seated on the chair next to her, fingering a tumbler of whisky, the amber liquid fiery through the glass. “I have a couple rules around this place that I thought I should explain.”

The girl swallowed, taking a sip of water.

“Rules? Sure, no prob, I’m a really great houseguest,” Lindy nodded before biting into the sandwich again. “I hang up all my towels, do dishes, all the good stuff,” she volunteered.

And that made me chuckle deep in my chest.

“No, not rules for houseguests, nothing like that,” I rumbled. “What I meant are rules especially for nubile young females that stay here.”

The brunette frowned suddenly.

“What do you mean?” she asked slowly. “You’ve had girls here before?”

And I cursed internally. Of course I’ve had women at the house, I lost my virginity thirty years ago and was still enjoying the pleasures of the female sex each and every night since. But Lindy was new to all this, precious and innocent despite the fact that she’d just been breached, so I tried to be gentle, brush it under the rug a little.

“I’m forty-five honey,” I said gently. “And I’m not a virgin, so I’ve had girls over before, yeah.”

And the brunette thought for a moment.

“But are you… are you still seeing anyone now?” she stammered, flushing as she put down her sandwich.

And that one was easy to answer.

“No one but you, honey,” I said genuinely. “It’s only you.”

And she smiled hesitantly then, biting her lip.

“Good, I’m glad Mr. Jones,” she said quietly, “Because I’m not sure ….” Her voice trailed off.

“Not sure exactly how you’d feel if I were seeing other women?” I finished.

And she nodded silently, her eyes wide and fixed on mine, her lips trembling as emotions crossed her face, a rush of elation, confusion, indecision, the mix so new to her that it was impossible to put words to.

But I merely took her face between my big palms and dropped a kiss on her lips before looking deep into those warm pools of caramel.

“Honey,” I rasped, imbuing my gaze with genuineness, with truth. “So long as you’re with me, I won’t be with anyone, I promise. It’s just you.”

And the girl grew rosy again, a smile breaking out and wreathing her lips, the indecision falling away.

“Oh good,” she whispered, “Thank you, Chris.”

And my heart swelled with what, I’m not sure. The way she trusted me? The way I felt like I had her heart in my hands, her sweetly giving nature, that warm body available and pliant in my arms? But I shook my head. This was a ten day thing, nothing more, so there was no long-term planning, no serious investment.