Friendly Neighbor

She heard Terry hum in satisfaction and push forward, and suddenly she was again feeling the delicious sensation of being filled by his thick cock.

"See, you know how to be a good girl after all," he murmured in approval, his thumb starting to rub her clit. "You really did need more, didn't you toy?"

"Yes sir," she panted, embarrassed because it was true. She resisted the urge to wrap her legs around him and pull him in deeper, fighting to retain at least a little control, to not let him know how much he was affecting her. It was getting tougher to stay focused though—her humiliation, combined with his steady thrusts and clit-rubbing, already had her close to cumming. And the closer she got, the more she wanted it. "Please don't stop, sir," she heard herself start to beg. "Please keep going, please keep fucking me, please keep rubbing my clit, please..."

"Don't worry, toy—I won't stop," he murmured soothingly, filling her deep with every thrust. "I'm going to make you cum over and over tonight, just like I'm going to fill you with seed again and again, because that's what you're here for—for cock and cum, as much as I care to give you of either."

His words inflamed and galvanized her, conflicting emotions running through her. "No..." Justine protested weakly. "You can fuck me however you want, but please don't cum in me again, sir—cum on my chest, or in my mouth, or put on a condom, but don't cum in my pussy—please, sir."

Terry tsked and picked up the pace. "Silly slut—I thought you'd figured out by now that you don't get to decide what happens to you tonight. And that includes what hole I cum in. I should say, what hole I come in /again/."

Justine moaned, unable to do anything but shake her head and whisper "No" over and over as he used her, feeling her orgasm start to build, keeping herself spread despite her protests.

His free hand moved to her hip, getting a good grip as he fucked her harder, murmuring, "Sluts don't get to say no. You were already expecting cum in your pussy tonight--you're just going to be my cum dump instead of his." For a moment his hand left her clit long enough to slide up between her spread legs, coming to rest on her belly as he added, "And I've got a lot saved up, you slut—I'm not letting you leave until I put the rest of it into your pussy."

Justine's breath came out in a sob, unable to deny his words, unable to say anything but "Yes sir." Feeling helpless and dirty she released her ankles, letting her legs wrap around Terry's waist, pulling him in deeper, crying out as he thrust harder in response, his fingers frantically rubbing her clit. Her hands moved to her breasts, nails digging in, wanting to punish herself for her predicament, for her loss of control—for not wanting to stop. Despite herself she started pleading again, murmuring, "Please please please..." in increasingly urgent tones.

"Please what, toy? Please more cock?" Terry asked.

"Yes," Justine breathed, eyes closed.

"More cum?" he challenged, holding himself deep inside as he asked.

Justine whimpered, but said, "Yes—yes sir. Please give me more of your seed, please make me your cum dump, please make me cum over and over while you fill me up. I don't want you to stop, sir, I want you to fuck me, fuck me, fuck me ...!" her words finally broke off with a cry as her orgasm crested and swept through her. All doubt and conflicting emotions were washed away in an instant, leaving her aware only of his cock and fingers, and how good they made her feel. She shook, clamping down on him, her legs keeping him inside her, giving herself over to the moment.

Terry paused as she came down from the spasm, letting her have a moment of being filled and blissed out—and then he began rubbing and thrusting again, causing her to wail "Oh God," as she felt the next orgasm building. She was louder when this one hit, beating her hands on the table as she writhed at the end of his cock, body bowing upwards before collapsing, panting and wrung out, sparing a single thought to wondering if Mark had heard that. And then Terry started again and all thoughts of Mark—or anything outside of the Terry's touch—fled.

After the fourth forced orgasm she started begging him to stop—but of course he didn't. After the fifth she was beyond words and just lay limply beneath him, her legs hanging down, letting him have her. He forced one more climax out of her exhausted body after that, and as her head lolled and her mind spun, overwhelmed, she felt him lift her legs and pull them around his hips, his thrusts becoming more urgent. Justine managed to dredge up enough strength to tighten herself around him, not even thinking about what she was doing, just mindlessly wanting to please however she could. She felt his seed explode inside her again and moaned, feeling filled and owned and a little broken.

Justine didn't pass out after that, but she did become less aware of her surroundings for a bit. She was vaguely aware of being picked up, and of getting a drink and using the bathroom before being laid back down somewhere soft. When she was able to focus again, she was lying in a bed with Terry beside her idly stroking her flank. She noticed that he had finally taken off his clothes, and gave herself a moment to enjoy the view. He was hairier than Mark, but even more well-muscled than she'd realized—no wonder he'd overpowered her so easily, she thought blearily.

He noticed her looking and gave that smug smile again. "Welcome back to the land of the living, pet. How are you feeling?"

Justine took a moment to do an inventory. "Sore. And sticky." She thought about it some more, and added quietly, "And well used, sir."

Terry's smile gained some warmth, and he murmured, "Glad to hear it, my good little slut. I've got a soaking tub if you want to relax for a bit—or a shower if you just want to wash off the stickiness."

Justine thought about taking a long, luxurious bath, letting the heat penetrate her sore muscles and aching pussy—and then quashed that idea, realizing she was getting far too comfortable with her situation. She shook her head firmly. "Shower is fine, sir—thank you."

Terry chuckled and nodded. "I've got you set up—come on." He got out of the bed and held out his hand, pulling her to her feet. He led her to the bathroom and turned on the shower, stepping aside for her to adjust the temperature, and watching her climb in.

Justine stood under the spray, enjoying the heat and water pressure for a long moment—and then opened her eyes when she felt him get in behind her. He raised an eyebrow at her sour expression, and said, "You didn't really think I was going to let you get all slick and soapy without me, did you?"

Justine sighed in resignation as she felt his hands slide around to cup her breasts again, leaning back against his broad chest as she murmured, "Of course not, sir—that would be silly."

He kissed her for the first time under the hot water. He tasted like cigarettes—which she didn't like—but he did it while pinning her to the wall, one hand in her hair and the other stroking her clit—which she did. She wound up on her knees after that, and he learned just how deep her mouth could take him.

After sucking him for a while, Justine noticed that the water beating down on her wasn't showing any signs of cooling. When she came up for air, she asked him how big his hot water tank was.

"It's tankless," he said, an evil look back in his eyes as he pulled her up and spun her around to bend against the wall. "The hot water never ends."

"Oh god," she groaned, and then her mouth was full of his fingers, and her pussy was full of his cock. He fucked her under the water like that while she frantically rubbed her clit, cumming twice before he filled her with another load of cum.

As they dried off afterwards, Justine took a deep breath and nervously asked, "So...can I get my clothes and purse back now, sir?"

Terry regarded her for a moment as he finished drying off, laying his towel across his shoulders and reaching for hers. She didn't resist as he pulled it free, exposing her body once more to his gaze. "Suppose I say no?" he asked quietly.

She took another breath and looked him in the eye. "Then I'd say it's up to you what happens next, sir. You know I won't stop you."

He crossed the distance between them in a single step, tangling his hands in her wet hair, bending her backwards. She planted her hands behind her on the countertop, panting, feeling arousal fight against stiffness and fatigue, knowing she truly had no control over what happened next—and also realizing that if he wanted more, she would do everything she could to give it to him. She couldn't decide which thought frightened—and aroused—her more.

Terry spun her around so she was facing the mirror, one hand in her hair, the other splayed across her middle as he nuzzled and nipped at her throat and shoulders, making her squirm and yelp before he paused, watching her face in the mirror. "Think you'll ever come back to this neck of the woods?" he murmured, repeating his question from the start of the night.

"I don't know," she admitted breathily, giving the same answer as before. "But I don't think it would be a good idea, sir—do you?"

Terry smiled slightly, his hands reclaiming her breasts, squeezing and torturing her nipples, causing her to bite back a groan. "Probably not. But I take comfort in knowing you'll always remember the night you were fucked until dawn by a complete stranger."

Justine shivered, biting her lip, letting her head fall back against him, her hands rising up to cover his as he mauled her chest, murmuring almost fondly, "I'm a little fuzzy on the exact time, but I don't think it's /that/ late, you braggart. I mean sir," she said, unable to hide a smile—or how her nipples were hardening under his hands again.

When Terry didn't answer, she raised her head to meet his gaze in the mirror—and saw that evil smile again. And then he started pulling her backwards towards the door.

"Oh no," she groaned, her hands futilely reaching for the counter just as he pulled her out of reach. She spread her arms out as he pulled her into the hall, catching the doorway, half-heartedly trying to stop their progress. "Please sir, mercy, you win—you've fucked me so much more than Mark ever did, you can stop now!"

Terry was apparently unimpressed by her words or efforts though, his mouth returning to her throat to nuzzle and bite, his hands squeezing her breasts as he pulled her backwards, making her lose her hold, and then again when she tried the same thing at the door to his bedroom.

She pleaded again when he lifted her into his arms. "Please sir, I already have so much of your cum inside me, and I'm going to be sore for a week—let me suck you, or use my hands. If you have some oil you can fuck my tits, sir, you haven't done that yet—oof!"

Without ceremony he dropped her onto the bed, climbing in after her as she tried to scramble away. She made it to the far edge before she felt his hand on her ankle, and, just like before felt herself being pulled back to him. He flipped her onto her back, her wrists in his hands as his knee nudged her legs apart. She stopped struggling and just looked up at him, breathing fast.

"What are you?" he asked quietly, slowly stretching her arms above her head.

"I'm a slut, sir—you know I'm a slut," she whispered, even as she strained against his grip.

"And whose slut are you tonight?" he continued, lowering his hips, letting her feel his still-hard cock sliding down her body.

Justine swallowed and answered in a small voice, "I'm your slut tonight, sir."

Terry lowered his torso until he was pressed against her, her naked breasts rubbing against his chest, her whole body stretched out beneath his, making her feel small and helpless as he lowered his mouth to her ear, nuzzling and whispering, "And where did I say I was going to put the rest of my seed tonight, slut?"

Justine moaned, fruitlessly twisting her wrists even as her legs spread further apart. "Inside me, sir," she whispered.

He began sliding himself against her, and she felt her nipples grow rock hard as he dragged his chest across them. His cock slid up and down the entrance to her pussy, and her breath caught as she felt it spread her open, coating his shaft in her juices, knowing no matter what she said, her body was ready for him to be inside her again.

Terry raised his head to look down at her, his eyes boring into hers, his lips so close they were practically sharing the same breath. "I still have some seed left, slut. Where does it go?"

Justine trembled beneath him as she whimpered, "Inside me, sir."

Terry moved one of his hands down, raising himself enough to grasp his cock, angling it so she could feel the head of it at her entrance. "And where do you want it to go, slut?"

Justine closed her eyes at his question, no more fight left in her. "Inside me, sir," she repeated breathlessly, her aches and pains forgotten, fully focused on the cock against her pussy, wanting only to be filled again like the cock-hungry slut that she had been revealed to be.

Terry smiled, brushing his lips against hers, murmuring, "Good girl," before lowering his hips the rest of the way, his cock sliding inside her, making her eyes fly back open. His hand returned to her wrists, his face still mere inches from her own. "Wrap your legs around me, toy," he ordered, and she quickly obeyed, pulling him in, giving him everything he wanted, vividly aware that she was soaked and ready.

He moved slowly at first, seeming to luxuriate in the new position, in the feel of her body rocking beneath his, of his cock moving between her legs. Soon though he began to speed up, his eyes locked on hers, leaving her unable to look away, forcing intimacy like he'd earlier forced orgasms. Soft whimpers began to escape her mouth, and she pushed against the hands on her wrists just to feel how helpless she was. She thrust up as he thrust down, their bodies smashing together as her whimpers turned into cries, and his gaze turned smoldering, possessive. The grip on her wrists was almost cruel as she saw him give himself fully to the moment.

Suddenly Terry picked her up, making her wrap her arms around his neck in surprise, her legs staying locked around his waist as his hands cupped her ass, effortlessly bouncing her up and down on him. She remembered wondering how long he could hold her body up, and five minutes later she was still wondering as she held on for dear life while he impaled her. She dimly knew she was going to be feeling this for days, but at the same time wanted to be held in midair and pounded by him forever. She buried her head against his neck and focused solely on the cock inside her.

Eventually though, he slammed her back onto the bed, straightening up until he was standing over her, resuming his pumping. "Grab your ankles, slut," he ordered, breathing hard. "I want my cum to go as deep as possible inside you."

Justine did as she was told, unwrapping her legs, bending them back and grasping her ankles, almost bending her small body in half for him. He helped by locking his hands around her thighs, using them to hold her down as he pounded her, each thrust causing his balls to slap against her ass, filling her as deep as he possibly could. Her head tossed from side to side, her hoarse cries filling the room, feeling used, helpless—owned. And then he made a final thrust, shooting another load of cum inside her, making her feel the heat of it pooling deep within. He kept pumping long after his cock stopped spasming, fucking his cum into her as she held on, letting him do whatever he wished to her, wanting only to be his plaything until he was done.

At last he stopped and his cock—apparently spent at last—slipped out of her. He gently pried her fingers free from their death grip on her ankles, and slowly eased her legs back into a more comfortable position. Justine wasn't at all surprised when this didn't result in much leakage from her pussy—she had felt him very deliberately fuck his seed into her until there was almost nothing left to come out.

He climbed onto the bed and spread a comforter over them both, pulling her to him underneath it. She went to him willingly, and was pleasantly surprised with gentle touches and petting. She cuddled against him as he murmured soothing nonsense sounds into her hair, his hands gliding over every inch of her. Eventually she felt her heartbeat and breathing return to normal, and she began to stretch into his touch like a contented cat.

After a while he paused, head tilted, and murmured, "Do you hear that?"

Justine roused herself from the half-doze she'd slipped into, turning into him and curling against his side, mumbling, "Hear what, sir?"

Terry smiled and said, "Birdsong, pet. It's dawn."

Justine groaned and pulled the covers over her head. "God, you really meant it."

Terry grinned, pulling her to him for a long moment before rolling away. "I'm a man of my word. Speaking of which, you've earned your stuff back. Hop into the shower and I'll bring everything to you."

She sighed and stretched, both relieved and disappointed that it was over at last, and headed for the bathroom.

She was rinsing off when she heard him come in and place her things on the counter. She wasn't at all surprised when he then climbed in behind her, nor when she felt his hands return to her breasts. Soon she was pinned under the water again, her wrists held above her head as he forced her mouth open with his, spending several minutes giving her long French kisses. She still didn't like the taste of cigarettes but, she reminded herself as she closed her eyes, there was no such thing as a perfect guy.

Finally, she was allowed to escape and get dressed. Wearing the catsuit again was weird—it felt like a lifetime ago since she'd first put it on, and she knew if she ever wore it again, it wouldn't remind her of the club she'd dressed up for. Or Mark, the memory of whom also felt rather distant now.

Terry enjoyed the suit as well—when she came out to the living room she found him sitting on the couch in a t-shirt and sweats, and his eyes lit up when he saw her fully clothed for the first time. He made her sit on his lap and, after she firmly declined the offer of a ride back to her place, he told her to call a Lyft—and then played with the zipper while they waited for it to arrive.

"You've seen me naked, sir, why are you so fascinated by this?" she asked him in mild exasperation after he opened and closed the top several times.

"I like an outfit with such easy access," he replied, sliding the zipper all the way down and grabbing a breast, his fingers closing on a nipple.

"God, everything is going to hurt tomorrow," Justine moaned, but made no effort to stop him, and when he leaned forward while torturing her breast, she opened her mouth to him without hesitation.

Soon enough though they found themselves facing each other by his front door. Justine looked down, her fingers twisting together, unsure of what to say—unsure of how she should feel about everything that had happened. Terry finally reached out and tilted her head up, making her face him.

"It was lovely meeting you, Justine," he said quietly, smiling. "I'd say I'm sorry I won't see you again...but Mark doesn't deserve you, so I'm not actually sorry at all."

Justine blushed and mumbled, "Yeah, well...It was nice to meet you too, Terry. Sir. Terry." She stopped, not even sure what to call him.

Terry smiled, seeming to understand, and leaned forward, planting a kiss on her brow as her phone buzzed. "Ride's here. Maybe we'll run into each other sometime—it's a small city. Take care...toy."

Justine smiled shyly, and when Terry opened the door she walked outside. She didn't look back until she got to the waiting car—when she did, he was leaning in the doorway, watching her. He lifted an arm in farewell, and she did the same—and for a mad moment, she thought about canceling her ride and going back. But instead she got into the car and let it take her away. It wasn't until a couple blocks later that she realized she hadn't even thought to check to see if Mark had been watching.