Bab 1: 1
It had been a long day at work. Usually, the drive home was enough to clear my head, but tonight some niggling little thought had crawled into my brain. The farther I drove, the more anxious I got, but whatever was bothering me danced just outside the edge of comprehension. Traffic was usually sparse at this time of night, and Idly considered the vehicle I had found myself stuck behind as my mind reeled. It was an older model of the nearly brand-new truck I was driving. There was rust on the tailgate. A dent in the rear bumper. Another car, passing in the opposite direction, lit the cab up and I could see a crack spider-webbing its way across the windshield. Possibly a poor driver, but in these parts, it was more likely the vehicle had been handed down to some high school kid as his first car. Which didn't preclude them from being a poor driver, obviously.
They were doing the speed limit, but my anxiety was making me more than a little impatient. I turned on his blinker and made to pass the truck. That was when I noticed the bumper sticker affixed to the tailgate. It had been right there in front of me, almost as if I had purposely avoided reading the bright white letters set out against the purple background: Dayton HS Cheerleading. As I turned the words over, something clicked. I'm not sure where the thought had come from, but I realized I hadn't been with a woman since...since when? The last woman I had been with had been a member of my grief support group. We thought that we could help each other move on. Afterwards, we realized neither of us were ready, and moved on from each other instead. That had been...almost a year ago.
Maybe I was ready now, but I wasn't going to find out with some likely prepubescent jailbait. Still, as I passed, my eyes flicked automatically to the girl driving the truck. She was on her cell-phone, the flash of her camera going off intermittently, but I barely registered that. Under 18 she may be, but prepubescent she was not! I took in her dirty-blonde hair, following it around the curve of her ear to where it hung limply over a pair of full, sun-kissed breasts straining against a tight, white tank top. I couldn't see any more of her, but I could imagine her tank top stopping short of her waist, her toned midriff rising from a pair of jean shorts, her long, bronzed legs...With a start, I realized she had turned in her seat, was now facing me, a curious look on her face. Rather than passing her, I had simply been driving beside her in the wrong lane, fantasizing about her. I sped up quickly, swerved aggressively back into the correct lane, and tried to put some distance between her and I.
I sped the rest of the way home. If I had ever dipped below 15 over the speed limit, it would come as a surprise to me. There were only a few miles left to my house when I passed her, and for some reason, I didn't want the blonde beauty seeing where I lived. Not that my house was anything to be embarrassed of, I think I was more concerned that she might see me turn, follow me down the driveway, and confront me about my staring. If I'm honest, the real concern was what I might let myself do to her if she did confront me.
Lost in thoughts about those perfectly bronzed legs wrapped around my head, I hadn't noticed that not only had a truck closed the distance between us, but that I was about to blow right past my driveway. I stomped on the brakes, only then seeing the headlights in my rearview mirror. I heard the squeal of rubber and a metallic crunch as my truck rocked forward slightly.
I tried to slow my racing heart. The accident had rattled me a little, and I knew that, slamming on my brakes like that, I owned at least a share of fault for the accident. I had no intention of telling the other driver I had nearly missed my own house because I was busy fantasizing about a girl half my age. I tried to think of a better excuse, but the point was soon rendered moot. As I got out of my own truck, I realized the vehicle that had hit me was an older model of my own truck with a crack spider-webbing across the windshield. The driver's side door opened and a pair of legs, every bit as long and smooth and golden as I had imagined, stepped out of the cab.
She was talking animatedly to a friend on her phone, completely focused on inspecting her own vehicle; I was completely focused on inspecting her. She wasn't wearing the jean shorts I had pictured, but rather a flamboyantly purple pair of booty shorts that seemed tight enough to have been painted on to her tantalizing ass. Again, she caught me in the middle of a daydream, shooting me a look of disgust as she walked back to her truck.
"No Becky, there's no real damage." A pause as Becky supplied the other half of the conversation.
"Uh huh."
"Maybe a scratch, but that might've been there before."
"No, they won't even notice it."
"I don't know, some creep. Caught him staring at my ass."
"Yeah, he's probably my dad's age."
"No, you whore, he's definitely not." I didn't need to hear Becky's voice, I had a fairly good idea how the conversation had gone. I could hear Becky's laughter through the phone as the blonde teenager got back into her truck. She turned the key, the engine turning over and roaring to life, but as she tried to shut the door, I grabbed it, pulling it back open.
"What the fuck is your problem, dude?"
"No damage?" I was well-insured and, admittedly, the damage to my rear bumper was less than I had expected. With any other young driver, I might've eaten the cost of the repair and told them to be more careful, but something about her attitude had really gotten under my skin. I grabbed her arm, wrenching her out of the truck.
"Becks, I'll call you right back. No, just give me a minute." She hung up the phone, trying to twist away from me. "Ow, that hurts you asshole." I didn't let go, instead pulling her forward, in between the two trucks. "NO DAMAGE, HUH?" I was livid now, and she had noticed. She cringed as I yelled at her, and I could see tears already welling in her eyes. "Stop crying."
She bent to inspect the large dent she had placed in my bumper, allowing me a magnificent view down her already-revealing tank top. As her bra hung from her, I glimpsed her nipples standing out like little buds from her chest. I felt a familiar stirring in my groin as I realized she didn't have any tan lines. I got lost in a fantasy of watching her sun-bathing, her pert teenage breasts standing firmly from her body as she soaked up the sun's luxurious rays. I imagined her sliding her hand down her body, deciding that, in this daydream, she was bottomless as well. Her hand snaked between her legs, rubbing at her slit when I realized that, yet again, I had been caught staring. Something about this girl (probably aided heavily by my own sexual drought) had turned me into a horny teenage schoolboy, one-track mind and everything.
This time, rather than disgust, she was staring at me in fear, one hand tugging at the top of her tank top, trying to cover up as much of her exposed cleavage as she could. Looking into her eyes, I began to wonder whether it had been anger or lust that had caused me to put my hands on her, dragging her from her truck. Guilt set in as I realized this was probably the first time I had spent looking at her face. I had spent so much time eye-fucking this cheerleader and yet knew I couldn't pick her out of a lineup of other sexy blonde teens. She was pretty. Even in fear, her blue eyes shone, and I wanted badly for her to be on her knees, looking up at me with those eyes, her ruby red lips wrapped around my cock.
"I'm really sorry about your car, mister. But that doesn't mean...you can't just put your hands on me. It's not right."
"I know. I'm just...it's been a long day. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. Let's just exchange insurance and we can both go on our way, okay?"
"Well, about that." She crossed her arms together, subtly squashing her breasts together, pushing them higher up on her chest. I knew her intentions, just as well as I knew that, had I not been in such a long dry spell, I likely wouldn't have noticed this at all. She was an attractive girl, probably well accustomed to using her looks to get what she wanted. When all she wanted amounted to petty high school concerns, it probably worked out quite well for her.
"Please don't tell me you're not insured."
"No, I am. It's just that, well, if I get in another accident, my parents are going to take my truck away from me. Maybe," she cooed sweetly, "there's something else I could do for you? You think I'm pretty, don't you?" She bit her lip, tugging at the center of her top. Her fuck-me eyes were probably the envy of every boy in her class, and I found myself quite pleased to be on the receiving end of them.
"Shit, I'm probably your dad's age, you can't be doing this. How old are you even?" I knew my voice lacked any conviction. I knew she heard it, too.
"I'm eighteen, and I don't mind. Maybe we could find somewhere private and I could give you a little show? I know you want to see my shaved pussy, don't you? Wanna watch my tits bounce while I dance for you, huh?"
I did. I very much wanted to get this girl naked. She was staring intently at my crotch, watching it bulge as my erection grew stronger. She took one of my hands in hers, placing it upon the soft warmth of her breast. I hefted it in my hand, testing its weight, feeling her heartbeat quicken beneath the fleshy mound. Slowly, I trailed my hand down her taut stomach, over her well-pronounced hips, letting my fingers graze the thin fabric covering her pussy. "What else are you going to do for me, huh?"
Again, I could tell I had crossed a line with her, as she pulled back from me, turning her body sideways away from me. "I-I thought that would be enough. I'm not a whore." I knew that I should just get her information and let her (MAKE HER) drive away, but I was taken aback by her rebuke.
"That's at least $1000 worth of damage right there, and you thought I'd let it slide for a little strip-tease, is that it?"
My question had been logical, but my tone hostile, putting her defense back up. "I saw you looking. Don't lie to me, I know what you want. I see the way you look at me, like all those other dirty old men. Always staring at my ass, trying to see down my shirt. You think that because I hit your car that means you get to fuck me?"
She was right. She was completely right. I did want a piece of her, and had her offer been something more participatory, rather than just voyeuristic, I probably would have let the accident go. Our conversation had reached a tipping point. As much as I may desire the blonde beauty, I knew I couldn't stand here in front of my house trying to negotiate sex from her. "You're right. I think it's best for both of us if you just give me your insurance info and leave, alright?"
It appeared that she also recognized the potentially perilous situation we had gotten ourselves into, but rather than try to defuse the situation, she went on the offensive. "Oh, I'm leaving alright, but I'm not giving you shit. If you say anything about this accident, I'll let everyone of you neighbors know what a dirty pervert you are. I'll tell the whole town about you." With the arrogance that can only come from a teenager, she shoved past me, sparing me one last hateful look before heading back to her truck.
'You leave and I'm calling the cops. You can tell anyone you want that I was looking at you. Checking out some 18-year old slut isn't a crime but leaving the scene of an accident is. Your parents will take your precious truck away, and if they come anywhere near me, I'll be sure to let them know what their precious baby girl was willing to do to me, and let me do to her, to keep this a secret." I had no real way of knowing for sure, but I would've bet that any of the latter threats had been unnecessary. Just the mention of police involvement had stopped her in her tracks.
She turned back to me with tears in her eyes. Eyes that, for the first time, I noticed were red and bloodshot. Was that from her crying, or something more? "Okay, look, I'm sorry for what I said. I...I can't have sex with you, but...maybe there are other things I could do for you. Please? Just don't call the cops. Please?"
My legs felt heavy as I closed the distance between us in two short steps. I knew that if I continued to entertain these thoughts, I would do something regrettable. Leaving the scene of an accident was far more forgivable when the person you rear-ended was twice your age and blackmailing you for sex. Still, it had been at least a year since I had gotten laid, and my brain wasn't exactly in complete control of my actions at that point. I raised my hands, still unsure if my intention was to turn her around and push her towards her truck or to wrap around her lithe body, drawing her closer to me. My eyes flicked to her face, now puffy and tear-streaked, back down to her breasts. Her nipples were fear-stiff, poking out of the thin cotton top. I could feel my resolve weakening further; I wanted her bad. With the last of my dwindling willpower, I moved to push her away. That was when I smelled it.
Above the smell of surrounding cornfields, stronger than the odor of her flowery perfume, I caught the smell of alcohol on her breath. Perhaps there was more to her bloodshot eyes than just tears, after all. I wrapped one hand around her waist, pulling her into me as I kissed her, my other hand mashing her breast. "You've been drinking, haven't you?" I already knew the answer. I could taste the vodka and orange juice on her tongue.
"Please," she sobbed, her body stiffening against my touch, but not pulling away from my embrace. "Don't call the cops. We can work something out."
I nodded towards my house. "This is me here. If you're sober enough to drive," I said pointedly, drawing a sob and an irked sneer from her, "pull in and we can discuss this somewhere more private. If not, well, I have your license plate number." I went and got in my truck, knowing already what her choice would be. I watched in my rearview mirror as she did the same. She pulled around my truck slowly, driving up and parking right by my front porch. I followed her up the driveway, pulling past her vehicle and into my garage.
When I climbed out of the cab of my truck, I found her already leaning against hers. Her back was to me, her shoulders tensed. I knew she must be hoping for a reprieve, for someone to tell her this was all a joke, or a bad dream. I wasn't kidding, though. My willpower gone, I knew I would go as far as I could talk her into going, and I just hoped that I would at least be smart enough not to push any further. I climbed the porch steps, unlocking the door. "Well, you coming?"
She muttered something under her breath that might've been, "I doubt it," but followed me in the house anyways. I led her to the sofa, indicating wordlessly for her to sit. I sat down in the recliner opposite her. Neither of us spoke for several minutes. Finally, she broke the silence. "What are you going to do to me?"
I ignored her. "What's your name?"
"It's-it's Rachel. What are you going to do to me?"
"Rachel what?"
"Rachel Peck. You're creeping me out, will you just tell me what you're going to do?"
"I'm not going to do anything to you, Rachel Peck. We're here to discuss what you're going to do for me. A strip tease won't cut it, there's hotter girls on the internet who wouldn't cost me over a grand to see them naked, but I might be open to, let's say, other considerations."
The remark about hotter girls stung her, I could tell, but she seemed resigned to the idea that, unlike with her peers, she wasn't going to be able to bat her eyes and flash a little cleavage to get out of this one. Dejectedly, she asked, "What do you want from me?"
"What do I want? You made it clear a few minutes ago that you already know exactly what I want, remember? All of us, how did you put it, 'dirty old men' just want to fuck you, was that it?" It might've been the first time tonight that she recognized that she had also crossed a line. "Don't worry, I won't hold that one against you. You're absolutely right. I do want to fuck you. I want to fuck every hole you've got. I want to see my cock buried in your ass, your pussy wrapped around me as you bounce up and down on top me. I want to see your makeup smeared and running down your face as I fuck your throat. Hell, I wouldn't mind getting you on your knees with those tight little tits of yours wrapped around me. I still haven't decided whether I want to cum in your mouth or on your face more, but I want to keep you around long enough that I get a chance at both. Point is, if we go off what I want, you're in for a long, hard couple of nights. Fortunately for you, what I don't want is a rape charge against me. You know what I want, I want to know what you're willing to offer me."
When I finished, she dropped her eyes quickly to her feet. She was 18, and far too beautiful for no one to have tried getting in her pants by now. I suspected she knew a fair amount about sex, but she had seemed genuinely shocked at hearing me describe just how I wanted to use her. "I told you, I can't have sex with you."
"Well, what can you do then?" She still couldn't meet my eyes, staring intently at the floor. "Maybe this is a waste of time." I got up, ushering her towards the door.
"What about a blowjob?"
I turned back towards her, standing so that the crotch of my jeans was almost brushing against her face. She stared at my bulge, then up at me before resignedly reaching to unbuckle my belt. I slapped her hands away. "Not yet. Stay here."
I left the room, returning a few minutes later. I shoved the coffee table out of the way and reclaimed my seat opposite her, leaning back into the deep recliner, placing my cell phone in my lap. "Take off your clothes." She sat motionless, staring back at me with confusion and no small amount of fear. "You're about to have my cock in your mouth, what difference does it make showing me your tits while you do it?"
She pulled her tank top over her head and, with trembling fingers, reached behind her and unclasped her bra. She made no move to remove the garment; however, letting it drape loosely over her full breasts. She looked at me questioningly. I raised my eyebrows, nodding at the skimpy covering. She shrugged her arms out of the straps, letting her bra fall to the floor. She had been wearing it needlessly, as far as I was concerned, her breasts didn't drop even a millimeter when released from their cottony confines. "The shorts, too." She stood up, slowly pulling the shorts down, the purple shorts revealing a lacy green thong beneath them. She was doing absolutely nothing to add to her stripping. Fortunately, at this point, nothing was needed; I was already hard as a rock and steadily leaking precum. I'm embarrassed to admit that I briefly lost my breath as she finally removed the last garment, revealing her tight, bald, teenage pussy.
Finished undressing, she sat back down on the sofa, clasping her legs together but leaving her arms at her sides, the view of her breasts unhindered. "Spread your legs." She listened, and only in the most technical sense of the word did she obey, moving her feet apart a few more inches but twisting her knees inward to cover her most private or body parts. "Okay, you want to play stupid with me. Put your feet up on the sofa on either side of you. Hold your legs apart with your arms. Use your hands to spread your pussy lips for me." She started sobbing, pleading incoherently with me for mercy that I had no intention of giving her. Finally, she did what I said, and I stared into the perfect pink sleeve of her sex.
I snapped a picture with my phone before she quickly crossed her legs again, wrapping her arms around her breasts. "I didn't say you could take pictures."
"No, but you didn't say I couldn't either. Let's just call this an insurance policy. In fact, we're going to take a few more before the night's done. Surely you didn't think one blowjob was going to be enough to cover all the damage you did to my truck, did you?"
"No, I guess not. I'm just not comfortable with some guy having pictures of me like that."
"I understand entirely. Like I said, you can think of them as an insurance policy. Actually, think of them as collateral on a loan. I am loaning the money to you to pay for the repairs and, until you have repaid your debt, I will hang onto these pictures. As long as you repay me, no one will ever see them. If, on the other hand, you fail to sufficiently satisfy our agreement, then you give me all rights to sell or post them wherever I choose to recoup any money left on your loan."
"So, once I'm done, you destroy them?"
"I said no one will see them. If you want me to lie and say that I won't hold onto personal copies of the pictures for myself, sure, I'll get rid of them."
She considered what I had said, biting her lip as she thought it through. While clearly a nervous tic, it was enough that I could hardly resist running over and shoving her head down on my cock right now. "I guess I don't really have much of a choice, do I?"
"Of course, you have a choice. I'm serious about not raping you. I plan on using you. Hard. But you're doing this of your own free will. Here's how things are going to work. Now, I'm going to get out my camera again. I'm going to record you confessing to your role in the accident. That means the texting and driving, the drinking. All of it. Then you're going to tell the camera that, completely unprovoked by me, you offered to use your body to pay for the damage you caused so that you could stay out of trouble with your parents. After that, you're going to crawl over here and suck me off, got it? You will not take me out of your mouth until I tell you to. If I cum in your mouth, you swallow it. If I cum on your face, you smile like it's the best present you've ever received. Either way, you thank me for my cum, and then you're on your way back home."
"And you're recording the...you know, the blowjob, too, aren't you?"
"I am. Now, when you're ready, let me know and we can record your confession."
She took several deep breaths, steadying herself, before nodding that she was ready to begin. I turned on the camera on my phone, setting it to video, and nodded back.
"My name is Rachel Peck. Today, I was driving my truck when this man stopped suddenly in front of me."
I closed the camera, setting my phone down on my lap. "Let's keep this focused on your own guilt. And you know what, I think you should be on your knees when you confess. Oh, and make sure you point out that you're 18."
Rachel got down on her knees in front of the couch and I turned my camera back on. "My name is Rachel Peck. I am 18, a senior at Mason High School. I was texting and driving today, and I rear-ended someone. I had also been drinking. I damaged the truck in front of me. He wanted my insurance information, but...In order to stay out of trouble with my parents...I decided to let him use me as payment for the damage I caused." She looked up at me, and I mouthed the words "use me how" to her. "In case it needs explaining," she began, looking testily past the camera at me, "I plan on providing him with sexual favors as a way of paying him back."
I clicked my camera off, beaming rather arrogantly down at her, reveling in the amount of control I now had over this teen sex symbol. Sure, the video would never hold up in court, but I doubted she realized that. I spent the next several minutes guiding her into various poses, collecting more "collateral" from her. I had her play with her pussy, spreading her lips and inserting a digit into her slickening folds. I had pictures of her playing with her breasts, pressing them forward and up so that she could lick and suck on each of her nipples. Several others simply reclining on the floor or couch in sexy poses. The final one was also the most embarrassing for her, as I had her on her knees, one shoulder pressed against the ground while she reached back and spread apart her ass cheeks for me. I took several pictures of this pose, letting her feel my phone between her cheeks as I got in close for several shots of her puckered rosebud.
This was no accident. While I wanted to the videos to look like she was a completely willing participant, I decided that what I wanted more was to see tears leaking from her eyes as she took me in her mouth for the first of what I was planning would be many times. Finally, I retook my seat, switching my cell phone back to video mode. "Now, Rachel, you're going to crawl over here. Make it look sexy. I want to see you shake your ass as you do. Crawl over here and beg me to let you suck my cock. Tell me how big I am, how excited you are." I held up my phone but had a second thought. "Do you have a boyfriend, Rachel?"
"Ye-yes. His name is...Why does that matter?"
"Go on, what's his name?"
"His name is Ryan, why?"
"Good. Remember, I want an enthusiastic, excited blowjob. You're staying here until I get one, so you might as well get it right, and follow all of my instructions, got it?"
"Got it." I switched my phone's camera back on, nodding at her to begin. She didn't disappoint, turning on the charm almost instantly. She crawled seductively between my knees, shaking her ass behind her. Ryan was indeed a lucky man.
"Hi there," she giggled, crawling up me so that her firm tits rested atop my legs, rubbing them over my groin.
"And what do you want?"
"You know what I want." She bit her lip, shaking her long mane of blonde hair out of her face. "I want to suck your cock." Her hands fumbled with my belt as she grinned at the camera, batting her eyes and giggling sexily the whole time. She finished with my belt buckle, yanking the belt loose in one quick pull. Tossing it aside, she leaned forward rubbing her face against the bulge in my crotch. "Mmmm, is this all for me? Did I get you hard, mister? Someone better take care of this for you, don't you think?"
I suspected that either she was an avid porn fan, or Ryan was. Regardless, if she sucks half as good as she teases, I knew I'd be cumming soon. Rachel began unbuttoning my jeans, staring up at me, her face just inches from my cock now, before moving back up and unbuttoning my work shirt. She kissed my stomach, her lips lightly brushing just above the waistline of my jeans. I shuddered involuntarily, and she laughed again. "Oooh, somebody likes that, I think. Have you got a nice big load saved up for me?
She wriggled my jeans out from under me, sliding them down my legs and pulling my feet out of the pant legs one at a time. I was straining against my boxers now, my cock aching to fill the warm confines of her mouth. A sizable wet spot had developed on the front of my boxers with a single drop of milky white precum oozing through the cotton material. She licked it up before gripping the waistband in her mouth, slowly pulling it up and over my now-throbbing erection.
I knew that I had told her to say it. I knew that she was employing every trick in her clearly well-established arsenal to get me as close to cumming as she possibly could before she even took me in her mouth. Still, I think there was at least a little sincerity when her eyes widened, and she gasped audibly upon finally seeing my cock. Sure, there were bigger guys out there than my 8-inches, but I had always done alright with the ladies, and I also knew I was quite a bit thicker than most. She looked at it in wonder and a small amount of fear, enough to make me guess that, as lucky as he may be, Ryan was at least not as well endowed.
"Oh my god," she cooed. "You're huge. I don't even know if I can get this all in my mouth." She licked up and down the shaft several times and, for the moment, I was able to convince myself I wasn't forcing myself on her and that she was enjoying this as much as I was. She kneeled lower, lapping at my balls. She looked up at the camera, smiling into it with my cock draped over her right eye. She took it and slapped it across her cheek several times before returning to licking it in long strokes up the underside of my shaft.
It took an amount of willpower I wasn't aware I possessed to keep from blasting my cum against the roof of her mouth as she finally wrapped her lips around the head of my cock. Had she pressed the issue, she would've had me shooting into her already, but it appeared that, forced or not, she was trying to give me her best performance. Instead, she held me in her mouth, letting me calm myself down. Once my breathing had returned to a semi-normal pace, she smiled around my cock and began sliding further down the shaft. She was only able to take half my length in her mouth before pulling back, coughing as she withdrew. "You're sooooo big," she purred, before taking me back in her mouth.
When she had gotten about halfway down again, I asked her, "Am I bigger than your boyfriend?"
She paused, caught off-guard by my question. I could feel her body tense. She managed to take another inch of me in her mouth, swirling her tongue around the bottom of my shaft before she pulled back. "Oh, yes, you're definitely bigger." She said it with almost no conviction, none of the pornographic joy she had shown earlier in asking for my cock. She looked up at me, searching my face for approval. It was hard, with her taking my cock back into the enveloping heat of her mouth, to twist my face into something resembling disapproving, but I must have succeeded. She pressed her face down as far as she could, getting maybe another half-inch in her mouth before retreating, gasping a little theatrically for air. "Oh yeah, Ryan's little high school boy-cock is nothing compared to you. This thing is a hammer, he's like a tiny little nail."
I could see her eyes welling up again. She continually pressed her face deeper into my groin, trying to give credence to her little lie that her watery eyes were nothing more than symptoms of a rough blowjob. I knew; however, that it was the coerced insults directed at her boyfriend that had reduced her to tears again, and I languished in feeling them dripping off her face and splattering my thighs. No longer content to tease me and prolong her efforts, Rachel seemed intent on fitting as much of me as she could into her mouth, willing me to cum.
She still couldn't take it all in, even her deepest strokes left the last two inches exposed, although they were now covered in drool as she continued to try to facefuck herself. Feeling that she had lost focus on trying to provide me with the best experience she could, I rationalized that I no longer owed her a comfortable experience. Zooming in on her face further, I wrapped my other hand through her long, blonde hair and violently pushed her farther into my groin. She gagged loudly as I reached the entrance to her throat, but I didn't let up. I kept pushing, feeling her spasming against the fleshy intruder invading her esophagus, finally feeling my cockhead force through the entrance to her throat. She struggled against me, unable to breathe, slapping at my thighs and trying to push herself off of me.
I let her continue idly struggling against me for another 45 seconds before letting go of her. Her head rocketed backwards, my cock slipping from her throat with an audible pop. She sat back down on her heels, clutching at her heaving breasts as she tried to regain her breath, but I was on her again. Standing now, I held her head in place while I my hips forward, driving myself farther in to her. Now with more leverage, I was able to easily penetrate her throat with each thrust before pulling back until just the head of my cock was in her. She tried to squeeze in a breath on each outstroke, but otherwise resigned herself to finishing this blowjob being violently skull-fucked. I pounded into her with increasing fury, my balls slapping against her chin, her nose pressing painfully into my pelvis, rubbing against my scratchy nest of pubic hair.
My orgasm welled up with each little choking cry she made. She stared up at the camera in tears, but I no longer cared. I doubted that Ryan had ever fucked her like this, and as I felt my orgasm boiling up in me like a cresting wave, I held head down. My whole length was buried in her mouth now, and I watched as her makeup ran down her tear-stained cheeks. Her throat burned from the rough abuse. 15 seconds soon gave way to 30, and she began panicking, slapping at my thighs with renewed vigor. I stepped forward, still holding her face to my groin, knocking her off her feet and onto her ass, her legs splayed out in front of her. She still beat against my legs, but with no leverage now, she was only burning up valuable oxygen. After 45 seconds of being forced to deepthroat me, her whole body began spasming. Her legs shook underneath me. Her fingernails dug into my thighs hard enough to draw blood. Around my cock, her throat contracted around me, trying to squeeze me out even as her tongue worked desperately against any part of me she could reach to try and get me off. Tears flowed steadily from her eyes now, and as she looked up at me, pleading, I finally came. I shot the first rope straight down her throat before pulling out of her mouth and spraying the rest across her face.
I felt like I would never stop cumming as I continued to paint her face in thick, white cum. I managed to aim one shot directly into her left eye. She jerked away from me, trying to wipe it away. "LOOK AT ME," I commanded her. She put her hand down, turning her face back towards me as I landed another shot in her other eye. By the time I finished, her face was completely covered in my spunk. Her eyes were already gummed shut, it dripped down off her forehead, coated her lips, and was already turning her hair into a matted, clumpy mess. "Well?"
She turned her face back up towards me, unable to open her eyes due to the thick pools of cum congealing against her eyelids. Given the rough abuse I had just subjected her to, I could hardly blame her for forgetting her instructions. It took her roughly a minute of coughing, rubbing at her sticky eyes, and regaining her composure before she remembered. "Mmmm, thank you. What a monster load from a huge cock." I rubbed my still-stiff penis across her face, smearing cum across her further, before inserting it gently back into her mouth. She licked the sticky mess off me, moaning her satisfaction (fake, but I no longer cared) as she tasted my seed.
Finally, after feeding her my cum several more times, allowing her to lick it off my now spent cock, I turned my camera off. Leaving her to finish cleaning herself off, I retrieved her cell phone from my couch. It was locked, but she allowed me to grasp her wrist, pressing her thumb against the pad to unlock it. I scrolled through her pictures, selected some of the racier shots she had stored and texted them to myself. Next, I scrolled through her contacts list, selecting the entries for Bex (who I assumed was the one Rachel had been talking to after the accident) as well as both a Rian and Ryan and forwarded their contact information to myself. I couldn't tell which one her boyfriend was, but with different spellings and Facebook, I had no doubt I could figure it out. I deleted the conversation from her phone and replaced it near her discarded clothes.
By the time she had cleaned herself up enough to open her eyes again, I was already dressed and sitting on the couch, watching TV. I nodded, without looking at her, towards a door down the hall. "Showers in there if you want to clean yourself up. Personally, I like you the way you are."
She scoffed at me. I grinned back at her retreating form as she padded off to the bathroom, her clothes in hand. I went to the kitchen to grab a beer, hearing the shower already running when I came back. I sipped at my beer, paying no attention to the program on. Instead, I was thinking about the barely legal teen that had just allowed me to facefuck her in my living room and then thanked me for the privilege afterwards.