Shepherd's Pie Ch. 02

By the time Cynthia finished her story, my cock had almost ripped a hole through my sweats. Still, I wanted to get some more shots, intending to save them for my spank bank later on.

"I need you to turn around and show me your ass," I said firmly.

She seemed to realize the state I was in, smirking before slowing turning to tease me with her hose-covered rump.

"I like being told what to do," she said, which only encouraged me to take charge even more.

The light pouring through her bedroom window reflected against the glossy surface of her beautiful sunlit hose, illuminating every thread so the nylon flickered like gold dust as she bent forward, leaning toward the wall, so her big, round, fatty asscheeks arched out directly toward my camera like a couple of honey-glazed hams.

The angle of her pose allowed me to see clearly between her legs, where a blotch of moisture had already formed on the cotton panel stained by her flowing juices. I knew then it was time to make my move as I boldly instructed her to lie down and spread her legs on the bed.

With no hesitation, she followed orders, leaving everything on except the white lab coat, laying it on the far side of the bed. She dug her heels into the blanket, knees pointed to the ceiling, along with her tits, which still looked amazing, even inside her red bra.

I made my approach, stepping toward the edge of the bed, briefly pausing to admire my prey. Then I reached out and ran my fingers over the silky nylon on her right upper thigh.

"Don't be gentle," she said, gazing up at me. "I like being treated like a whore."

Taking her at a word, I paused for deep breath, steeling my resolve, before finally moving in for the kill. With both hands, I firmly pulled her toward the edge of the bed, dropping to my knees, before violently clawing the nylon around her cunt, tearing the crotch open, which left her pussy completely exposed.

The lips of her hairless pink twat seemed almost as wet as my extended tongue, which I then proceeded to wedge inside her, parting her spongy folds, holding it there, letting her bitter fluids trickle over my curious taste buds, before suddenly stabbing in and out, hungry to violate her creamy snatch with every possible appendage.

With my face buried deep between her pantyhosed legs, I never expected the heavy volume of oily liquid that soon left a warm glaze coating my lips and chin.

At 19, I still hadn't had much practice eating pussy, forced to rely solely on animal instinct, feeding off her vocal responses telling me when and where to apply more speed and pressure, noisily munching down on her beaver like a wild bear.

Something about how wet she became so quickly sparked something in me where I just wanted to devour her. Perhaps, I was still feeling frustrated with my mother for teasing me day after day. If Cynthia wanted me to treat her like a whore, then that's what I planned to do for the sake of releasing my own pent up aggression.

I remembered seeing a few videos of women demonstrating how to hit their G-spot. Since Cynthia seemed to be game for anything, I decided to perform my own little experiment, pointing my index finger, and then drilling it deep inside her tender walls. The first finger made her squeal like a dolphin; the second made her ass spring up off the bed, juices dripping all down my hand like a leaky faucet.

Stating the obvious, I taunted her on purpose, as I quietly whispered, "Like that?" Her glistening vulva spoke volumes as she reached out with both hands, clutching the white bed spread.

"Sweet Jesus, yes...I love it!" she loudly confirmed. "Can you feel how wet I am?"

Her words brought a devilish grin to my face, as I sat up and peered over her, plunging my fingers well past the knuckles, lodging them deep inside her, curling them slightly, and then using the tips to feel for the soft ridge along the top of her pelvic wall. Not knowing what to expect, I slowly began wiggling my fingers back and forth. I looked down and saw her squinting, spurred by the sound of her short, labored breaths, feeling her squishy womb tighten and quiver with only the slightest friction of two fingers rubbing her inner clit.

"Hrrmmmnnnggaawwdd," her voice echoed off the walls. "Huhhh huhh ohh yesss yess ohh fuck yeah right there! Mmmmmgaawwdd yeahhh don't stop. Don't fucking stop!"

By then, I was already on the attack. Yet, thanks to her vocal encouragement, she'd suddenly given me a clear and direct target.

"I'm taking this pussy today, understand," I said, snarling over her.

"Take it!" she answered. "Take all you want! Punish me, Goddamn it!"

Her words lit a fuse sending my teenage libido into overdrive.

I decided then, like it or not, Cynthia was going to suffer the wrath for every girl who told me I was too nerdy, too skinny, or too plain boring to give me the time of day.

"Let's see how many fingers you can take."

It wasn't a question, but a promise that I would test her limits.

By then, the floral aroma that greeted me when I first entered her bedroom was overtaken by the briny odor of Cynthia's pussy juice, forcefully squirting from her steaming cooze, drenching the nylon, leaving a giant puddle on the bed.

Her flooding juices gave me the added moisture to slip in another finger. From her reaction, she clearly felt no discomfort with three fingers thrusting in and out of her cunt, grabbing her legs and pinning her knees to her chest. Her snatch opened so wide, I couldn't help sliding my pinky in as well, with yet more fluid gushing out everywhere, as Cynthia lay there, legs splayed in either direction, covered in white thigh highs over suntan pantyhose, taking four of my fingers deep inside her well-stretched cunt.

"Is this what you wanted?" I said, placing my other hand around her throat. "Am I making you feel like a whore?"

She glared back defiantly as she viciously snapped back, "No, you son of a bitch! Choke me harder! Choke me like a man!"

Soon, she was begging me to not only choke harder, but slap her and spit in her face, all of which I did only because she insisted on it so vehemently. Just when I thought the whole incident couldn't possibly get more savage, she shocked me again with yet another hair-raising request.

In a low, restrained tone of voice, she looked at me squarely and firmly uttered, "I want you to fuck me with your fist."

The maternal sureness in her voice matched all the authority of my mother telling me to take out the trash. Without question, I did as instructed, balling my fist, leading in with the first knuckle, holding my thumb down over my middle finger, then punching through the seam, letting her walls expand around my blunt, forceful intrusion, making her hiss between her teeth, blues eyes rolling back into her head, as she reached up with both hands and dug her nails deep in the back of my neck.

"Shlorp, shlorp, shlorp," was all I heard over ragged breaths and a long series of strained, guttural moans rising from the pit of her stomach. Within seconds, I could feel her pussy starting to contract around my penetrating fist. It was odd yet astonishing to literally feel her orgasm from the inside, every spasm, pulsing and squeezing my fingers like a vice. She finally let go of my neck, leaving scratch marks I might somehow have to explain, then reached down and feverishly started rubbing her clit, seconds before warning me to pull my hand out and stand back.

The moment my fist popped out of her cunt, I rolled over sideways, staring in awe at the sheer height and volume of the enormous geyser spraying straight up before splashing over everything from Cynthia's torn pantyhose to her huge bobbling tits, holstered in soggy red lace, as she reached over and grabbed my arm, arching her back, wailing over ten decibels, while her pussy erupted like Old Faithful.

We might have paused for a moment to catch our breath, but I don't exactly remember how long I waited before pulling my cock out, grabbing her by the hair, then suddenly pushing her head down till I felt the tip butting against the back of her throat.

She wasn't in charge and I wanted her to know it, enjoying the strangled duck quacking noises as I leaned back and used her mouth like the fuckhole she clearly intended it to be.

She was then kneeling in a pool of her own expended juices, when I finally decided to release my grip, curious to see how her oral talents compared to Mom's.

What she lacked in skill, she easily made up for with enthusiasm, bobbing and slurping with one hand pumping my shaft, while the other reached down and gently shuffled my balls. Unlike Mom, she hadn't mastered the art of deep throat, yet seemed to take unique pleasure in gagging herself over and over, drooling and slobbering to her own soundtrack of soft whimpers and wet gurgling noises, while furiously stuffing her mouth with cock.

The pleasure of gorging on teenage cock was apparently so intense that Cynthia's pussy continued to squirt with every effort to swallow all seven inches beyond her resistant gag reflex. Smiling from above, I calmly leaned back, sensing I no longer needed to do any work, not when I realized she was clearly hell-bent on brutally punishing herself, as she crouched over me, head rollicking up and down, using my cock like a battering ram pounding her weary throat.

Watching her juices shower between her pantyhosed legs was almost enough to feel like busting a nut right there. Still, I held back, but only because there was one thing I couldn't leave without doing first.

"Get down on your knees," I said, pointing to the floor. "Time for me to fuck those tits."

She didn't say it, but the smile spreading from ear to ear was as if she'd thought I'd never ask. She dropped to the floor, and then whipped off her bra so quickly that I barely had time to enjoy the unveiling as her massive funbags flopped out with her pink nipples hard as my cock.

I stepped forward, sliding my raging hard-on between the moist slit of her deep, shadowy cleavage. Like warm clay, her soft breasts yielded around my sturdy pole. As hard as I was, my dick was almost lost between those broad luscious pillows, where I firmly began thrusting my penis in and out.

On every upstroke, the head of my cock popped up between the supple flesh of her huge 38FF's. With both hands, she lifted and pressed her big tits together, creating a friction no different than vaginal penetration. Soon, I was sweating from the constant motion of standing there bucking my hips back and forth. She looked up, urging me on, seeming to enjoy the feeling of my rigid shaft slicing between her humongous jugs.

"Is this what you wanted?" said my busty landlord. "You like fucking these big tits?"

For a moment, I seemed to leave my body, picturing the scene from somewhere hovering above. From there, I could see it all, burning it to memory, her blonde hair, her dazzling blue eyes, her large breasts smothering my cock, and best of all, her ripped suntan pantyhose, with fresh girl-cum staining the white thigh highs leading down to her sexy platform heels.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to have her and nothing but Armageddon would stop me from fucking the living shit out of this woman until she begged for mercy.

Jerking her arm, I forcefully pulled her up and bent her ass roughly over the bed. Her cunt was gaping like a subway tunnel as I held her hips and viciously rammed her from behind. She instantly howled from the brutal force of my swift, driving penetration. Spreading my stance, I held tight as I then started hammering back and forth. She reached for the quilt, clawing the fabric with white knuckles, gasping for breath, losing nearly all power of speech.

Slumped over the bed, with her fat ass half covered in pantyhose, pointed back at me, the only words I could make out were, "Uh-uh-ohh-ggaawwdd-y-y-yesss-f-f-fuucckkk-m-m-meeee!!!" with her head lolling all directions.

I recklessly tore into her, slamming my cock deep in her tight pussy so rapidly that it actually felt like her inner walls had liquefied around my shaft. My relentless assault continued for several minutes without let up. Yet, Cynthia only cried out for more, as I furiously barreled into her with all my might, grabbing her shoulders for better leverage, desperate to ruin her pussy with every thrust.

Needing to see her big tits bouncing beneath me, I flipped her over, feeling the nylon, soft and silky against my fingers, with both hands firmly gripping her pantyhosed thighs. I reared back, purposely building anticipation, as she looked back, eyes burning with desire, as I lunged forward, filling her up once more, savoring the warm suction as I bottomed out, feeling her womb clench up and lock me in, all the way down to my balls.

Resuming my swift, piston-like motion, I speared Cynthia with my steely ramrod poling between my legs, pummeling her tender pussy with beads of sweat rolling down my face. She started to whimper and blabber incoherently. From the way her body tensed up beneath me, it seemed both of us were ready to cum at any moment. The sight of her gorgeous tits flopping around like water balloons slapping against each other pushed me right over the edge. I couldn't hold back, my stroke faltered, as I heard the insistence in Cynthia's heartfelt voice.

"Don't pull out. I'm on the pill. I want you to cum inside me."

I obviously knew the risk. Yet, nothing could stop the furious release of semen that instantly filled her wet vagina. The force of my sudden warm discharge pushed her to a shuddering climax, moaning and writhing through a series of violent spasms milking me from inside out. Collapsing over her, we lay there breathless and sweaty through several moments of awkward silence.

Finally, I rolled over, sprawling over the wet blanket, as Cynthia slowly sat up, sliding toward the edge of the bed.

Reluctant to spoil the moment, we each waited to say anything, avoiding each other's eyes through eerie silence seeming to go on for hours.

"Why me?" I asked, remembering a question I'd thought of when I first saw her costume.

She took a long breath, answering with her head down, as she quietly started to explain.

"Joel doesn't think I'm sexy anymore," she slowly began. "He just wants his wife at home, barefoot and pregnant. He never looks at me the way you do," she added mournfully. "The truth is I'm ovulating right now. I lied about being on the pill. I just want to have another baby," she admitted, hiding her face with one hand. "Since Joel won't touch me and you live right upstairs, I figured you were my only option," she said, adding a heavy sigh.

My blood had already turned cold as I lay there listening to her confession. How could I have been so fucking stupid? I asked myself, as all the pieces finally fell into place.

"So that's why you wanted those pictures for your anniversary," I replied. "You needed a way to get your husband into bed...but only after you had sex with me. Either way, your husband would never know if the baby wasn't his."

"Exactly," she said, nodding her head. "Please don't hate me, Chris," she added, on the verge of tears. "If I have another baby, I don't want you thinking you're under any obligation."

Her impassioned statement rang hollow in my ears. After all, it wasn't my obligation to Cynthia that worried me. As long as I lived there, the sight of her would always remind me that I'd broken my promise to my mother. Yet, somehow, I'd have to pretend like nothing had ever happened...

Continued in Part 3: Couples Therapy

Coming soon...