Little Ronnie

I was going to cum so hard.

"You're exquisite, Ronnie," he breathed, and then I shuddered at the touch of his dry finger on my shoulder. It ran idly across the top of my spine, through my curls, tracing the vertebrae there while I shook. We stayed like that for a moment, the silence heavy as we remembered what he'd done to me last time, how hard he'd made me cum, the look in his eyes when he'd thought he might get to fuck me... "I'm glad you're here."

I wanted to answer, to say something witty or sexy, or just to beg him for his dick, but I didn't. I knelt there with my head down and my body on display, my breath deepening, the bra an iron clamp across my tits. After a few moments his finger tapped the other shoulder just once as he came around the far side, his feet coming back into view. He stopped once more, his toes making little fists on the carpet before me, and when he spoke again his voice was harder. "Take my boxers off, Ronnie."

I obeyed at once, like before when he'd slid my panties off, as if he'd had some kind of cattle prod on me, my hands swinging up at once to his legs. They felt thick, muscular against my palms as I pushed my hands up, up, into those ridiculous Mickey Mouse shorts, past his penis until my fingers raked his pubes, then I turned my hands to hook his waistband from the inside. I did this with DeVaunte, undressing him from inside so that I could pull his underwear off his meat without getting it all hung up on the root.

Pro tip.

I dragged them down, both of us exhaling as his dick swung free in my face, already halfway hard just from looking at me. I arched upward, his smell strong now as, at last, I raised my eyes up along his body and let him see my face. I was shocked at the need I saw there in his eyes, my hands back on his thighs, moving gently up and down, feeling his muscles. Even if I'd wanted to, I knew, I could not have stopped touching him, needing the contact, my hands drifting back now in broad, lazy circles toward his ass. I could feel the heat off his dick as his head rose toward my chin, the smell off his body making my mouth water, and I forced myself to keep looking up at his eyes. Instinct told me what to say. "What would you like me to do next, Mr Bourne?"

Bourne's finger found my chin, cupping my cheeks. I felt no trembling; the man was certain of me, that was obvious. His mouth tightened as he nodded, a single sharp jerk of his head, and I knew I'd been right to go with my gut. He wanted me this way, more than anything: a bitch to be fucked. Which was fine by me.

I wanted him to pound me.

"Get me hard," he rasped, and at once I ran my eyes back down his chest, through his greying pubes, to where his penis stretched out toward me over a pair of low-hanging balls. He was rising, steadily; I knew a blowjob would be nothing but a formality, but if the man wanted my lips around his cock? I was more than happy to oblige.

I focused, seeing the smooth velvet of his head flare toward the rough, bumpy texture of his shaft, and before I knew it was kissing him there, gently at first, then with more suction as my tongue flicked slowly over his piss-hole. I tasted a slight acridness there, but of course: the toilet had barely stopped refilling, and it gave me a thrill to think I was cleaning him off this way. "Fuck," he grunted, distant and low, and I made sure I was looking back up at him, my big hazel eyes gazing through my thick lashes, as I opened wider and began to suck him in.

He tasted like a man should, like sweat and skin, and I moaned around him as he started filling my mouth. I had my hands clutching at his ass now, his eyes boring into mine as he hunched his hips slightly forward. "Gorgeous," he repeated, his voice drunk on lust, but by then that lovely smooth-curved head had found the back of my throat and I was opening, swallowing, desperate to show him I could deep-throat him.

All at once he popped through, my throat working, conditioned by DeVaunte, and he pushed eagerly forward as I slobbered over his dick. His hands clutched my head, the coils of hair thick in his fingers as he pulled me to him, and I went willingly: he needed to know how much I wanted this. I choked, gagging, fighting for control as I forced myself to breathe through my pube-filtered nose as best I could, the warmth of his scrotum on my chin giving me a sudden victorious shiver.

The eyes looking up at Mr Bourne now shone in triumph.

"Oh," he sighed, his face a mask of pleasure; my brain was surging. The ringing had started in my ears, powerfully, without me even realizing it. "Yes." It was a whisper, the beatific grin on his face turning slowly feral like it had a month ago outside 314, with him in a towel. I felt a stinging pressure on the back of my head now as he wrenched at my hair, my mouth coming off him with a shining thread of saliva left behind. "Good little whore," he crooned quietly, slipping back into my greedy mouth, and my neck arched forward on a wave of exultation, already slackening, ready to be his slut. "Mmm," he groaned, gasping tightly.

When he pulled me off him again I reached desperately through his legs from behind, craving the feel of his testicles, needing to touch. He chuckled, that dry laugh that had stabbed my pussy before, his hands twisted in my hair bringing a little hiss of pain from me. I coughed, panting, with tears in my eyes. "More," I managed.

The chuckle became a full-throated laugh, snarly and cruel but exuberant, and then his balls swung out of my fingers as he thrust forward, stabbing into my mouth with his arms dragging me to him, and with all the strength in my mind I willed my mouth to be his fuckhole. In and out, fast, his belly smacking my forehead as he thrust deep into my head with my hands scrabbling to grip the surging cheeks of his ass, until in a final explosion of spit and tears he ripped my ruined mouth off him for the last time. "Enough," he grunted, his hands curling under my armpits. "Stand the fuck up."

Again, cattle-prodded, I obeyed, my legs driving myself upright, coughing and snorting snot hard back into my nose. His mouth was on mine before I knew what to expect as his wiry arms shot around me, pulling me close against his nude body, and even as his tongue speared into my mouth I arched my mound hungrily against that hard, spit-wet dick. He was firm and powerful and sexy and he wanted me, my foot curling off the carpet and up the back of his leg as I giggled into his mouth; his hands, clearly, couldn't wait to find my ass.

He was still kissing me, sloppy, licking at my cock-breathed mouth when his hands deftly traced up my back to free me from my bra. I gasped, the relief sudden and profound as the straps seemed to just disintegrate off my body, my tits smashing hard against his chest, and still his mouth captured mine while his hands grappled my thong impatiently down off me.

I imagined it landing on the floor at my feet, squelching as it did: I was that wet, my pussy swollen and red for him, and now that he had me naked he spat me out of his mouth and arched back away, looking down at where we stood, swaying, pressed tightly together. "You're such a hot little whore," he sneered.

I sucked in a great gasp of air, easing my torn throat, hearing myself give a breathless laugh. "Wanna fuck me?"

His eyes arched in surprise, and I nearly came when he snapped, "No. I want to destroy you." My groan melted into his mouth, our lips clashing, for that was exactly what I needed: to be pummelled. To be wrecked. To limp away with my pussy battered into oblivion. I groped between us, anxious for his dick, gripping its fleshy length and pushing it mindlessly down toward my slit with my leg still rising around his.

"Please." My voice burst out husky and short of breath. I didn't even sound like myself. "Please."

"Please what?" I stepped back further so that he could watch my fingers wrap around his shaft, shoving it between my legs. "Please what, you horny little bitch?"

"Put it in me," I pleaded, shaking again, feeling the heat of his cockhead as I moved it along my slit, praying for him to drive forward.

"Jesus." He was laughing again, cruel, and now he dipped his hips down so that his cock slid long and warm between my legs, deliberately missing my hole while my teeth clenched in frustration. "You're fun," he mocked, sawing back and forth while I humped mindlessly down, seeking him, needing the penetration. Needing to feel him pierce me. "I'm going to enjoy making you cum again, little Ronnie."

"Dammit." I was humping him shamelessly and he was enjoying it, loving my need even as his firm hands took hold of my upper arms, steering me until I felt the cheap hotel comforter against the back of my calves. His dick was slippery at my crotch, my swinging hips trying hard to capture him, to get that glorious head to catch at the bottom of my slit and ease into me, and with each wild motion he dipped himself lower, stoking me. "Fuck me!"

"Yeah?" He kissed me again, hungry, claiming my mouth as he let me adjust my body, finally, finally getting his tip between my gaping labia. I squealed in delight until, with a savage laugh, he ripped himself back out. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear..."

"Shit!" I spat it out, my hand reaching behind my butt, digging between my thighs, trying to force him into me, and once again he let me have the tip. Our whole bodies were in motion, swaying in a crazy dance. I trembled again as I felt him enter, just that little bit, and then suddenly he smiled against my lips and leaned forward, hard, my legs tripping against the mattress as I flopped to the bed in an undignified sprawl.

And Mr Bourne fell with me, hunching over my body, letting the momentum of the fall drive him halfway into my weeping vagina. I gasped hard, catching my breath just as, with that same cruel smirk, he arched his hips and drove himself deep into me. "Oh motherfucker!" I raved. "Yes!" I'd been on the verge of cumming for many minutes now, and when I rolled my wild eyes down past my cleavage and saw his pubes pressed hard against my own, I yelped out in a quick, body-numbing orgasm.

"That's it," he hissed, towering over me now with his cock buried. "Grip that cock." He held himself inside me, deep, waiting while my legs thrashed out my pleasure. "Wow," he giggled, his eyes greedy on my heaving tits. "If I'd have known you were such a little freak, I'd never have bothered with your friend Izzy." I'm not sure whether he meant it as an insult, a compliment, or both, but I didn't care because before I had time to think about it he was drilling me again, prolonging my orgasm, pulling more of it out of me with every fast, smooth withdrawal of his cock. Then he shoved it back in, hard, my whole body shuddering with the impact before doing it again. And again.

And again.

I was far away, my whole consciousness lost as he slammed me. At some point I became aware he was eyeing me coldly, almost callously, lifting my leg high against his chest with his other hand a claw around my tit, the flesh surging out from between his fingers as my whole body shook in rhythm to his brutal pounding. It was precisely what I needed, my lungs gasping my pleasure out into the room in a series of whooping gasps. "Fuck yes!" I heard myself yell, my wet pussy clinging to him as he used me.

"Jesus," he crowed. "You're so fucking tight!" He pinched my nipple, hard. "That's it, little Ronnie." His voice was low now, tightly controlled, his teeth almost gritted as his hips jammed his meat in and out. "Take that fucking cock."

I glared back up at him, determined, slowly regaining control as my climax began only now to dip away. I had no clue how long he'd been fucking me; I just knew I wanted more. "Come on, you bastard," I whined, low and mean, my body completely open to him. "Keep pushing."

"Yeah?" He stabbed once, hard and deep, driving a gasp out of me. "Like that? You want it rough, little Ronnie?"

"Hell yeah." I hadn't even heard the question, I don't think; tonight, with him, the answer was always going to be yes. "Fuck me."

"Slut." He paused then, sweating, before he leaned suddenly forward and grasped my hair again. "Get the fuck up and turn around. I want to see that ass while I fuck you."

Third command, that third cattle-prod, and I scrambled to my feet and then spun, hunching down without hesitation. I avoided taking it from behind; DeVaunte was painful, that way. But I was done avoiding anything, anything at all, and I'd never felt more right than when I bent over the bed to become Mr Bourne's bitch.

Drowsy-eyed and panting, I looked to the side, tipping back to see him behind me. I felt a new surge of excitement as I noticed I could see myself in the mirror, sideways, waiting naked and flushed. I'd never seen myself get fucked before. I watched, mesmerized, as he stepped up behind me with his cock stretched out before him, his eyes focused down at where I had my ass thrust high in the air. I felt and saw his hand land on my flesh, almost lazily, like an explorer planting a flag before he ran his fingers over the sweeping curve up to my hipbones. He saw where I was looking, and smiled at me in the mirror. "You see how beautiful you are?"

I saw my mouth fall open as he ran his dick up and down my used slit, his eyes going crafty as he pushed back into me. He felt good: not small at all, and not DeVaunte-big either, he just filled me. I settled back into him, the two of us smirking. "Little Ronnie," he sighed, and then he jerked quickly out and sank back in, the stimulation making me arch my back. "You've got an amazing ass," he went on, still fucking, and I could see in his face that he meant it. "Maybe I'll fuck you there one day." He cackled then as my head dipped in shame; I'd spasmed. "Oh, you like that?"

He was drilling me hard now, laboring, rearing back with all his force before our bodies met with a lewd, wet, clapping noise. He grunted with each punishing thrust, his eyes glued to my butt, and I watched myself fuck back into him as if I was seeing a movie: the flushed face, the open grunting mouth, the swinging tits almost looked as if they were someone else's, until with a hard grip on my hips Mr Bourne started hauling me back against him. "Yeah, yeah," he chanted, low and steady, his smirk growing. "You're going to make me cum, you little whore."

"Fuck yeah," I challenged. "Go ahead."

"Really?" He chuckled again, working hard now. "Goddamn, you feel good." I stared into the mirror at our surging bodies meeting, parting, meeting, and I closed my eyes a moment when I felt his thumb prod at my asshole. "You like that?"

"Fuck," I spat, my pussy twisting once more around his dick, but he'd sped up now and I was thrashing back to meet him and he'd taken on that hard-eyed look men get when they're about to nut, that look I'd seen so many times before, but never from my old vice-principal, and the sordid naughtiness of this whole thing, plus that insistent nudge at my rectum, gave me another little spasm as, with a final lurching lunge, Mr Bourne drove deep inside me.

I don't usually feel men cum in me, but I definitely felt his cock jerk and dance against the imprisoning walls of my pussy. "Yesss," he moaned, his face arching toward the ceiling as every muscle stood out. I was amazed, watching rapt as he emptied into me. He hunched once more, his dick still twitching, while my vagina drank up every thick drop. He drove in a few more times before panting into the mirror once more, his hands leaving red prints on my flesh, and for a moment our eyes met with a look of absolute, total bliss.

* * *

My phone vibrated somewhat later, with the bedside lamp out now, as I crouched over Mr Bourne's legs. I lifted heavy eyes toward the red numerals of the clock radio, noting with my sex-drunk mind that I was pushing it: over an hour I'd been up here, and here I was kissing that smooth chest, trying to coax a third hard-on from this man, a third load for me. He craned his neck lazily sideways, where my phone danced by the lamp. "Aren't you going to pick up?"

I made a face, lifting my lips from where I'd left my muck ground deeply into his pubes. "Yeah," I sighed. "I guess I should." It was Lucy, of course, all agitated, and I listened gravely as I felt Mr Bourne's cock harden in my other hand. "What?" I said into the phone. "She says she sees a car here?" A pause. "Oh. Her husband's car. Okay. And she wants to talk to a manager." I cupped my hand over the phone and whispered down to my lover. "What's your wife's name? Louise or something?"

"Leah." He was watching me as I ran his head absently along my belly, prodding it at my clit.

"Oh." I spoke back into the phone. "And she says her name is Leah Bourne?" My smile grew as Lucy babbled her reply, my eyes thoughtful on Mr Bourne's. "Tell her I'm busy," I said as I guided her husband's cock back into me. "Oh. And wish her a happy early Valentine's Day."

* * *

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