Sweet Life 2 Page 3

  As we’re not entirely alone, now. Even behind our pillar, at the rear of the parking garage, we could be spotted at any moment. And this is what further fuels my passion. The thought that someone might walk around the corner and see. That someone might uncover our secret and gaze at us beneath the fluorescent lights, watching for a moment, as if we were putting on a show for their pleasure.

  But we’re not. We’re putting on this show for our entertainment only. I slip-slide my way into Eden’s wet pussy, and then I bring my hands down in front of her body to tap her trembling clit. She is so excited, even though she was playing the ice princess all through the movie and dinner, playing cool. I’ve never felt her this wet before. My thumb drags along her clit and she shivers in my embrace. That shiver works through my own body as her pussy contracts on my rod. I use my fingers to spread her pussy lips, holding them wide apart, and she groans. The noise is loud enough to reverberate around us. My immediate moan echoes hers. I can’t believe this is us doing this. And then she starts to talk, my X-rated Eden, saying those dirty words that always take me higher.

  “Come on, Charlie,” she urges me. “Fuck me, right, baby—”

  “Like this?” I ask her.

  “Yeah,” she sighs. “I like to feel your big cock inside me. Gives me something to squeeze on when you touch my clit—”

  I do. Each time my fingers flick over her hot little gem, she pulls me tighter inside her. She’s gripping me as hard as I can possibly imagine, when she freezes.

  “What?” I hiss.

  “Just stop—”

  So there I am, midthrust, moments away from coming, and I have no idea what’s going on. No idea until I hear the familiar sound of Eden’s mother’s voice. Then I freeze as hard as she is, and we hold our place like statues. I am not even breathing anymore. We watch, immobilized in a sliver of time, as Eden’s parents walk by only yards away. I don’t dare to move at all, not to withdraw, not to slide forward. I’m caught inside Eden, and I feel her body grip into me even tighter. Then finally her parents disappear from range, and Eden sighs and releases.

  We continue our motion together, and then I let her take me over the edge. I do nothing, just stay inside her, not thrusting, not withdrawing. Her tight powerful muscles milk me, and when she comes, the inner embrace of her cunt is like a form-fitting sleeve, like a fucking machine. She drains me until I am completely spent, pressing forward against her, sealing her up against the concrete pole and shuddering.

  “You think you know,” she says, as she pulls off me and turns to gaze into my eyes. I see her pretty face, her pale glossed lips, slim nose, dark blue eyes like the sky at dusk.

  “Think I know what?” I ask, because right now, fumbling to get my cock back into my slacks, I honestly don’t feel as if I know much of anything.

  “Just like my folks,” she grins, motioning with her head to where our silver convertible is parked, only several feet away. It’s suddenly obvious to me that she knew exactly where it was this whole time. “You think you know me, but you don’t.”

  “But I’m constantly learning,” I say, reaching for her again and holding her tight before she can get away from me. “I’m discovering more and more every day.” And it’s okay if it takes forever for me to discover all of Eden—because that’s time I’m willing to spend.

  Smoking in the Boys’ Room

  PAUL ROUSSEAU

  Michelle was dressed for the occasion: short, tight plaid skirt decent by only a couple of inches, white stockings, high-heeled shoes, loose white blouse with just a hint of her white, lacy bra showing where she’d carelessly let a button or two come undone. Her blonde hair was in pigtails and she was wearing heavy eyeliner and lipstick. My twenty-eight-year-old girlfriend was dressed up in the height of Catholic schoolgirl drag, pretending to be the naughty slut she always wanted to be, the slut she’d begged me to let her be for an evening—and I planned to comply, eagerly.

  I regarded her from behind the big oak desk, tapping the 18-inch ruler on my palm.

  “Don’t sit down,” I snapped. Michelle stood nervously in front of the desk, popping her gum and shifting from side to side. “Miss Peabody informs me that you were caught smoking. Is this true?”

  “Honest, Sir! I wasn’t smoking, honest I wasn’t!”

  I stood up, moving toward her quickly. Michelle took a step back and I snapped, “Stay still!”

  I came close to her, bending down so that my face was just inches from hers. I grabbed a pigtail and sniffed it. It reeked of smoke—ten points for realism.

  “Not only smoking, but lying,” I growled.

  Michelle exclaimed: “The other girls were smoking, but honest, I wasn’t!”

  I bent closer to her face, sniffing.

  “You weren’t smoking? You swear?”

  She shook her head quickly.

  I put out my hand.

  “Spit out your gum, Michelle.”

  Nervously, she leaned over and let her bubblegum fall into my hand.

  She looked into my eyes, fear crossing her face as I leaned close. Suddenly I grabbed the back of her head and pressed my mouth to hers, forcing my tongue between her lips as she whimpered and tried to pull away. I held her fast, probing her mouth with my tongue and tasting the telltale residue of tobacco: sharp, rich, nasty.

  I pulled back and stared at her. Michelle’s red lipstick was smeared across her mouth now; I wiped my mouth on one of her blonde pigtails and saw its tip rouge faintly red.

  “Your excuses fall part under investigation, Michelle. I recommend that you start telling the truth.” I sat on the edge of the desk and tapped the ruler on my palm.

  Michelle blushed fiercely and looked down at the floor in humiliation. Her pigtails hung past her shoulders; just underneath them, the peaks of her nipples had begun to stand out quite plainly under the blouse.

  “You know the punishment for smoking, Michelle.”

  She nodded. “Yes, Sir,” she said miserably.

  “If you’d like, you could encourage me to lessen the punishment a bit. Say, by telling me who gave you the cigarettes?”

  She looked up at me, her blue eyes wide and bright. “Sir?”

  I took her chin between my thumb and forefinger and held her fast while she tried to look away. “Who gave you the cigarettes, Michelle? You know full well that you can’t have bought them—you’re not old enough. Now, who gave them to you?”

  Michelle stared into my face, putting on a beautiful show of being too scared to talk. I could already feel my cock hardening in my pants, and Michelle’s nipples were more evident than ever under the blouse.

  “Miss Peabody said you were smoking in the boys’ room. Is it one of the boys who gave you the cigarettes? Andy Taylor?”

  “I…I…I,” she began.

  “Your parents already told me in our parent-teacher conference that they cut off your allowance because they caught you drinking. So you couldn’t have given Andy money for the cigarettes. What did you give him, Michelle?”

  Michelle was a gorgeous actress. She looked on the verge of tears.

  “I thought so,” I said. “You sucked him with that pert little mouth of yours, didn’t you, Michelle? He smeared your lipstick all over that pretty face, didn’t he?”

  Shifting nervously, Michelle nodded.

  “Uh-huh,” she said.

  “Did he have you service his friends, too, Michelle?”

  “Just a few of them,” she whimpered pathetically. Her nipples were now even more clearly evident.

  “How many?” I asked sternly.

  “S…six or eight,” she said.

  “You’re sure? Not more?”

  “Well…maybe ten,” she whispered.

  “Ten boys, all using that mouth of yours, just for a few cigarettes. Tsk-tsk, Michelle. Don’t you know that even whores your age get cash? What have you got to say for yourself?”

  “I…I don’t know,” she said.

  “Open your blouse,” I told her.

&
nbsp; “Sir?”

  “I said unbutton your blouse, Michelle. Right now.”

  Michelle began to fidget with her top button, looking at me for reassurance.

  I tapped the ruler in my palm. “Go ahead,” I told her.

  She unbuttoned her blouse slowly, letting it fall open to reveal the creamy mounds of her breasts imprisoned in their too-tight, too-low-cut bra. Her nipples peaked out quite clearly. Tucked into her cleavage was a cigarette.

  “I thought so,” I said. “Give it to me.”

  She took the slightly crushed cigarette out of her cleavage and handed it to me.

  “Anywhere else you’re hiding the cigarettes your boyfriends gave you, Michelle?”

  She shook her head.

  “We’ll see. Lift your skirt.”

  “Please,” she said, tears forming in her eyes. “Please don’t make me….”

  “Lift your skirt, Michelle. Right now.”

  She took hold of her tight skirt and snugged it up over her thighs, revealing the lace tops of her stockings where they hitched to her garters.

  “Higher,” I said.

  She lifted her skirt up over her crotch, revealing smooth-shaved pussy unhindered by panties. Tucked between her thighs, in the top of her stockings, was a pack of Marlboros with matches in the cellophane.

  “I thought so. Give them to me.”

  She took out the pack of cigarettes and handed them to me. I took them and got one out, lighting it while she watched.

  I took a drag and blew smoke at her.

  “Would you like one?”

  She shook her head nervously.

  “I’ll bet you would, but you’re too ashamed to ask for one. Now, Michelle, care to tell me why you’re not wearing any panties?”

  “He…he doesn’t like me to,” she said.

  “Andy?”

  She nodded.

  “Does he like you to shave your pussy, too?”

  “N…no,” she said. “That was my idea.”

  “I’m sure it was. Do you like the way it feels?”

  She nodded.

  “You do realize that only strippers and prostitutes shave down there, don’t you?”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, they do. Which are you, Michelle?”

  She looked at me dumbly. I blew smoke in her face.

  “You’re a whore. At least, that’s what your clothing tells me.”

  “Please, Sir…I’ll try to be good.”

  I took a drag off the cigarette, walked over to the couch, sat down.

  “Over my lap, Michelle.”

  She began to pull her skirt down and I said, “Leave your skirt up.”

  Nervously, she came over to the couch and lay across my lap, her skirt pulled up so that her pretty derriere was exposed.

  “Legs spread.”

  “Sir?”

  “Legs open, Michelle. I don’t want to tell you again.”

  She parted her thighs. I set the ruler in the small of her back and let my hand trail up her inner thigh. I was still holding the cigarette.

  I placed it close to her pussy, so close that she could feel the heat, but not close enough to burn her. She squirmed, her belly pressing against my hard cock.

  “Can you feel that, Michelle?”

  “Uh-huh,” she said.

  “Does it scare you?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m going to spank you, Michelle. But the next time I catch you smoking, do you know where I’m going to put out this cigarette, Michelle?”

  She shook her head.

  I chuckled. “Oh, I think you know.”

  I dropped the cigarette on the floor and crushed it out with my foot. My hand returned to her thigh and lingered an inch from her pussy.

  The first blow shocked her, made her yelp. She squirmed as I hit her sweet spot again, my fingers curving under to give her exactly the right amount of thud, an amount I’d calibrated in years of spanking her—though never in a schoolgirl’s skirt.

  “Say ‘Thank you,’ Michelle.”

  “Th…thank you, Sir.”

  I spanked her again, my hand beating her firm ass in a slow, mounting rhythm. Michelle began to squirm in earnest, writhing and wriggling in my lap with each blow on her butt. I spanked her faster until she was moaning in pain, whimpering with each blow.

  “Th…thank you, Sir,” she said, without being prompted.

  I slipped my hand between her legs, touched her there. She gasped as I slid one finger into her. A thin dribble of juice ran onto my hand.

  “You’re not a virgin,” I said.

  She shook her head.

  “And you’re very, very wet,” I said.

  She didn’t nod.

  “Was Andy your first?”

  Michelle shook her head again.

  I slipped two fingers inside her, curving my hand down to massage her G-spot. She gasped and then moaned, pushing her ass back against me, forcing her pussy onto my hand.

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  Shaking her head, quickly: “No, Sir. Please stop.”

  I worked my fingers in and out of her pussy, making sure that the pads of my fingers hit her G-spot with every thrust. Her wriggling felt incredible on my cock, and I knew I would come before she did if I wasn’t careful. When I eased my thumb down to touch her clit, she let out a wild, uncontrolled moan of pleasure and looked up at me with her bright blue eyes.

  “You want it, don’t you. Want me to do to you what Andy did.”

  “No, Sir,” she said. “Please….”

  “If you don’t want it, Michelle, why are you so wet?”

  “I…I don’t know, Sir!”

  I started spanking her again—slow at first, then faster and faster as she whimpered and squirmed. I could tell she was very close—she could come from spanking alone if I did it right, but I wasn’t about to let my schoolgirl get off that easy.

  “Ask for it, Michelle. Ask for it or I’ll tell Andy you tattled on him.”

  “No, Sir, please.…”

  “Then ask for it.”

  “P…please, Sir. Please do it to me.…”

  “Do what? You know the word, don’t you, Michelle? Surely a slut who gives head for cigarettes knows the word for what she wants done to her?”

  She said it so softly I almost couldn’t hear her: “Fuck.”

  “Louder.”

  “Fuck, Sir.” Louder.

  “Ask me for it.”

  Again, so soft I couldn’t hear: “Please fuck me, Sir.”

  “Ask me!”

  Louder, almost a groan: “Please fuck me, Sir!”

  “You want it from me the way you got it from Andy? Then beg for it!”

  “I want it, Sir! Please fuck me, Sir!” She seemed to break through a barrier and whimpered hungrily, “Please, Sir! Stick your thing in me, Sir! I want it, Sir!”

  “Show me what you did to his cock before he put it in you! Show me what you did to Andy and his friends in the boys’ room!”

  She had definitely broken through the barrier. She was down on her knees in an instant, between my spread legs, groping at my belt and pants. She got them open and took my cock out, began licking the glistening pre-come from the tip. Then she took it in her mouth, sucking it fiercely, leaving lipstick traces down the length of it. She gulped me down, moaning with hunger as she slid it down her throat.

  Michelle was an expert. I knew I would come very soon if I didn’t hold back. I fought my orgasm, not wanting to lose it before I fucked my naughty schoolgirl. She lavished her love on my prick, sucking desperately.

  I knew it was coming soon—I couldn’t hold back any longer. It was hard to pull her off my cock—she was so desperate for it, her breasts heaving under the open blouse as she sought after my hard prick.

  “Turn around,” I told her. “Turn around and put your ass in the air.”

  She scrambled around, getting on all fours and wriggling her ass back toward me. Her gorgeous ass curved around m
y cock as I fitted the head between the lips of her shaved sex and pushed it in, hearing her gasp of release.

  She came before I did—just. I heard her moaning, felt the spasms of her cunt as it gripped my cock, as I drove it into her rhythmically, and the contractions inside her milked the orgasm right out of my cock. I came, moaning myself as my cock spent itself in her.

  My cock slipped out of her. Michelle remained on her knees, moaning, her ass swaying back and forth as she begged for more.

  “You’re headed right back to the boys’ room, aren’t you?” I asked. “You can’t wait to get back there.”

  She looked over her shoulder, and smiled.

  Girls’ Night Out

  GISELLE PARKER

  You’ve been lying to me. When I asked you whether you had gone in my underwear drawer, you said you hadn’t. You told me you had no idea why some of my sweet nothings might have been in the wrong place, folded incorrectly. You even told me you didn’t know why my panties might have smelled funny. You think you fooled me, but I saw your face reddening, noticed the sense of indignation in your voice when I suggested that maybe you were just looking around in there, out of curiosity. You told me you didn’t know what I was talking about.

  That was your second mistake, lying to me. Your first was assuming I didn’t know what to do with a boyfriend who likes to wear my lingerie. I know exactly what to do with you, and you’re about to find that out.

  Naturally, I lied to you, too. I smiled sweetly and told you of course you hadn’t been in my underwear drawer. I must have been mistaken; I was in such a rush that morning to pick out my clothes for work that I didn’t notice I was putting things in the wrong order. Silly me!

  But you believed me, even if I didn’t believe you. You didn’t think anything was unusual when I pushed you down on the bed and pulled your pants open, caressed your cock, molded my mouth around it, and sucked you until you were moaning. You didn’t think twice about how wet I was when I climbed on top of you and pushed your cock into my pussy; I was dripping, gushing, and I came almost the second your cock was inside me. You didn’t think anything of it—of course, I was just turned on because you’re so devilishly sexy.