Carpe Demi


He let her take him further to the back of her mouth, gently increasing his fingers' pressure on the back of her head to aid her. The sweet ex-help was working gamely, he thought, eyeing him for reaction, as she wetted the greater part of his length with her softly slurping mouth, pretty cheeks hollowed, as she applied delicious suction. Blissful shudders coursed through his whole body from the surface of his cock, as his reluctant attendant pleasured him so gorgeously.

Paul watched the way Demi's hair brushed her tanned shoulders. Lower down he could see her smooth, round tits bounce gently as she slurped on him. His cock had not felt this pumped in years, not since his and Martha's sex life had foundered on the rocks of family responsibility. He was actually finding out what long-haired Ray had experienced on the sofa that night: the joy of that able little Canuck mouth. And he was going to learn more - he was going to find out the secrets of that tight, teenage pussy. Delectable though Demi's cock-sucking was, much as he'd have loved to let his balls ditch their salty cargo down her throat, he withdrew from her lips' velvet caress with a soft 'plop' and drew her mutely to her feet. She stared at him, her embarrassment at the recent phallating activity tinged with reluctant excitement.

'That was so, so wonderful,' he said with breathy gratitude, about to push her down on to the bed, so he could swiftly commence to fuck her in missionary. Then Martha's triple-mirrored dresser caught his eye, the one on which he had banged his wife times past, able to enjoy three reflected angles of her nude, bucking body. Now in the absence of those marital delights it was Demi's turn. 'Come with me.' Demi stumbled as they moved off, the discarded thong catching around her trainer-clad feet, and he supported her by her arm and her trim waist, as she kicked herself free. He watched the quake of her bubble ass as she did so, how it shook just perceptibly, as he guided her towards the dresser. His cock was an enormous ramrod of desire, sticking straight out in front of him and poking Demi accidentally in the small of her smooth back as they went.

He pushed her face-forward against the ornate piece of furniture so that her rear jutted out and on a sudden impulse he whacked those dimpled cheeks with the hard flat of his hand. 'Owww!' Demi yelped and stared back at him in dismay. 'What are you doing?'

Paul held her down with a hand in the small of her back, his cock throbbing from his new audacity and the feel of the girl's bare ass beneath his palm; he had a sudden, fierce urge to make that pretty behind sting before he banged her. 'You've been a - naughty- girl!' he informed, punctuating his words with a couple of hefty slaps to Demi's buttocks and making her squeal some more. 'And I'm going to show you what - happens to - naughty - girls!' Her cute bottom quivered each time he struck; he could see in the mirror how her suspended breasts jogged at every application of his hand. Their eyes met in the reflective surface. There was a look of sorrowful surprise in Demi's face, but he could feel how moist her pussy was beneath his palm. 'What do you think happens?' Somewhere deep down there was amazement at how fully he had embraced this new assumed persona. He held her gaze and addressed her like a teacher, eager to draw the correct answer from his star pupil. 'What do you think, Demi?'

'They get spanked?' she ventured, face suffused with a variety of emotions.

'Oh it goes without saying they get spanked.' He demonstrated with another resonant whack to her rear. 'Of course they get their hot little bottoms spanked.' This time her whole body jolted and tears welled in her eyes, so that he stayed his hand from smacking her again. 'What happens then, Demi?' he prompted lightly, holding her with his stare.

'They get... They get fucked.' It was the mournful tone of a girl submitting, however bewildered, to her sexual fate.

'Oh yes they do.' Paul stroked his hand gently over her neatly curved body, shown off as it was in triplicate by broad mirrors. Standing there he felt undiluted in his erotic instinct. He wasn't a harassed dad or a struggling businessman any more, just a sexual animal, primed to bury his seed inside his chosen female, in an act of pure gratification. Maybe he could have got to such a point again by making more effort with his wife, trying harder to communicate with her again. He could have talked her into accompanying him to marriage guidance sessions, shovelled his way alongside her through the accumulated crap of a stale marriage. Found a way back to where they could relax with each other and relearn the unrestrained joys of their physical union. But it was turning out much easier just to blackmail and fuck the nanny.

He pushed Demi up on tiptoe, shunted her legs apart and pressed the swell of his cock-head against the wet slash between her legs. She propped herself up and peered back over her shoulder, her face full of anxious wonder. 'I can't believe you're doing this, Mr Rushton!'

'Believe it,' he muttered, the first inch of his dick slipping into her slick groove. His hands adhered in preparation to her trim waist. 'Believe it, sweetheart.' And he pushed, hard. His cock impaled her in a single mighty thrust that lifted her right off her feet, as he released a huge grunt of exertion. She cried out in shock, her hands scrabbling desperately at the dresser top for support, feet dangling off the carpet, speared as she was by his weapon's driving intrusion. Paul might have eased off following his initial exuberance in response to her cry, but the sense of his swollen presence inside her clinging, wet tunnel was too delicious. He withdrew and surged in again, filling her up and making her scream once more. 'Oh God, that feels so fucking good,' he groaned, pounding her a third time on the 'fuck' syllable. She was pushed tight up against the polished wood surface by now and he set about her hard and fast, encouraged by her pussy's silky wetness that her reaction was at the very least ambiguous. Her hands had found purchase on the back of the dresser underneath the central mirror, and she clung on fiercely, releasing a sharp, breathy cry every time he plunged his cock. He could see her beautiful, suspended tits in the mirrors, shivering on each impact. Her face was scarlet with a confusion of emotions. She could clearly not take in that her kind, respectful ex-employer was doing this to her.

And Paul could see himself as well - not the flagging, middle-aged family-man he had verged on becoming used to, but an energised, virile male, taking full advantage of this pretty youngster and her compromised situation. Rutting on her like a stud still in his twenties. He bent low over her back as he ploughed her, his perspiring face inches from hers. 'You sweet, sweet girl, you pussy feels so fucking tight!' She had grown more used to his frantic pumping by now and uttered only a stupefied moan in reply. 'Oh God, darling, you don't know how much I've wanted to do this... How much I've wanted to fuck you...' He felt transformed, a different human being - one both younger and more wicked, huge and hard inside this tight eighteen-year-old. 'And we can forget all about what happened earlier, don't you see?'

'Yeah,' Demi gasped. 'Yeah... Oh God, you're fucking me so hard!' Her words did nothing to restrain him, rather they fired him up to do her even harder. He began drawing himself out almost to the head, then forging back in again with a driving pelvis, until the dresser began to creak and shake under his invigorated cock-slamming. A bottle of Martha's Chanel No. 5 slipped off the wood surface and went bouncing across the carpet, as his body impacted loudly and persistently against hers.

Paul eased off quickly, before the room could be caused any real damage. He pulled his slick, hard cock out of Demi and pulled her away from the dresser. 'Come on, let's go to the bed.' She was stumbling again, this time it seemed from sheer disorientation at having her pussy so soundly shafted. Paul, her impromptu blackmailer, steered her the right direction and bundled her peachy little form on the covers he had straightened only a little earlier. 'Hold on to the headboard.' He was not prepared to wait a moment longer than he had to. The veins were bulging on his engorged prick and he wanted back inside her very badly. Demi, totally cowed by now, acquiesced without a murmur, even stretching her knees apart to allow easier passage. Paul fitted himself, grabbed tight hold of her shoulders and roared back into her sucking cunt, his balls slamming into her cushioning ass-cheeks as he arrived. 'Ohhhhh fuck yes,' he muttered through clenched teeth as she cried out again, and he checked out the beautiful sight of his thick shaft pumping in and out of her stretched, soaking hole. 'God, Demi, you don't know how good this feels, you've no fucking idea...'

But she was sharing more than he'd suspected, for a moment later she was moaning and flinching, then one hand strayed from the headboard and travelled almost as far as the wetness between her legs. She stopped short, as if reluctant to acknowledge her own excitement. Paul caught her hand, thrilled at the revelation of her full arousal, and guided her the rest of the journey. 'Go on, Demi, it's okay. Wank yourself, get yourself off!' He could feel her fingers busying themselves under his, and he could feel how slippery she was about her inflated clitoris. His own hand returned to her shoulder as she frigged herself heatedly and he refocused on ramming the depths of her pussy.

Demi's orgasm arrived within moments, her rhythmic moans building in pitch and pace to a staccato 'oh-oh-oh-oh', her whole body clenching as her fingers strummed frantically between her thighs. Her cunt, already tight around Paul's thrusting member, clutched it fiercely as she spasmed beyond control. The sensation, along with the sight of her shuddering young body and sound of her mewling little orgasmic cries, sent him careering towards the peak of his own excitement. He let go her shoulders and clamped his hands to her thrust-out, hard-nippled breasts, pushing aside her frigging-arm in the process, and squeezed them till their fleshy firmness seemed to melt between his fingers. She was still thrashing on his cock, her body driving repeatedly back on to his as she came and came.

The pressure had built to bursting point in Paul's cum-swollen balls. He felt for all the world as if he were about to blow Demi off himself and against the wall, as in some obscene cartoon, at the end of a great sperm-geyser. Every muscle in his body seized and he clutched Demi's tits all the harder, as his lock-gates opened and he released his huge, pent-up reserve. It surged through the tubes of his rigid cock with a glorious sense of pumping release. Paul's head was thrown back and he was howling at the ceiling, as his thick, hot essence gushed out in a rampaging flood deep into Demi. 'Aaaaaaaaaagh - aaaaaaaaaaaagh - ohhhhhhhhhh FUCK... FUCK... FUCK!!!' He emptied utterly, balls clenched tight, as the final drops were squeezed free of his body, and all the while he clung in beautiful, despairing ecstasy to the yielding flesh of his young conquest. 'Ohhhh fucking hell...'

Paul's body crumpled forward on to the still quaking Demi like a deflating balloon. The madness which had seized him seemed to dissipate with his thundering climax; he became aware of the room once more - his marital bedroom - and of the nude young woman who was not his wife, into whom he had just fired an expansive supply of spunk. Whatever minor crimes she had committed, he had just used her the place he was supposed to make love to his wife. He wondered vaguely how many tell-tale signs needed clearing up before Martha arrived home that evening and how he would ever square his actions with his conscience. But even his post-coital desolation could not wipe away how fucking fantastic it had been. And as he drew himself slowly out of Demi, his still semi-erect cock drew glutinous, white strands of cum in its wake from inside her slimed pussy, a testament to the fabulous act.

'You - you okay?' The nanny had slumped sweatily on to the covers and lay there panting. 'Demi?'

She finally nodded her head and answered him in an exhausted croak. 'Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.'

'Anything I can get you? A drink of water?' He knew how inadequate it sounded, but his guilt at his own behaviour demanded that he make some kind of gesture.

Demi finally rolled on to her side and looked at him hazily, as if not entirely sure who he was. Then she appeared to focus once more. 'Yeah - yeah, a drink of water, please.' She drank it still nude, as though no longer abashed in front of him. Setting the empty glass aside, she stared at him warily. 'And you won't say anything to anyone about...about me coming back here?'

'No,' he told her earnestly, 'not a word. You can trust me on that.' It was a weight off his mind she seemed to be taking it so well. He put on his bathrobe and she dressed, without a sound passing between them. It seemed, nonetheless, that some mutual understanding had been achieved. Then just when he thought she was about to leave, she stooped down and picked the two banknotes from the carpet. She scooped up his wallet, he thought to return the notes, but instead she delved inside and produced the same amount again.

'I think I'll take your money after all,' she said with a slightly impudent air. 'I mean you're right... You're really not going to call the agency now, are you? Not when I can tell Mrs Rushton what you did with me on her bed.'

Paul felt surprise and a certain wry admiration at the girl's spirit. He knew he could not begrudge her the cash as he had done half an hour before. 'No - no Demi, I won't be calling anyone. You take the money and have a good time with your friends. Off you go then.'

Demi paused at the bedroom door just a second before leaving. There was a strange look on her face, a hot-faced look that could not be put down to simple disapproval. 'Mr Rushton, I never knew you were so bad.'

Paul sat on the bed staring at the shut door after she had departed, his heart rate finally slowing to normal. 'Neither did I, Demi,' he whispered to himself in quiet awe. 'Neither did I.'

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