Traffic Girl - Highway to Hell? Ch. 17

"I wasn't lying!!" Rita cried. "I'm going to cum!"

Her body shook, and my cock started to squelch as it pistoned in and out of her pussy, which was pouring out juices.

"Don't stop! Don't stop!" she screamed. "I'm cumming again! Oh my god!"

I was pounding the shit out of her now, and the spasming of her pussy felt familiar. I didn't let up for a moment. I made sure my cock pummeled her clit relentlessly on each stroke. Rita was screaming incoherently. I drove my cock up higher, toward her stomach and g-spot. And she exploded, showering me and the surrounding area as she squirted massively. She squeezed her abs, and her flat stomach flexed. Her tits shook. I had one hand behind her neck, bending down so we were touching foreheads. And I didn't let up. I fucked her until she squirted again. She lunged forward and bit my lower lip. Her legs wrapped around my back, digging her heels into my flesh.

"You fucker!" she cried. "What are you doing to me?"

I just smiled and kept going, as if possessed or simply transformed into a fucking machine. She squirted a third time, and it seemed like she had simply begun having a continuous orgasm. I couldn't tell if she was screaming or sobbing. Her body went limp.

"Stop, stop, stop," she whimpered. "I need a minute. My pussy is on fire. What did you do? Oh my god!"

"You are the fucking hottest," I said and smothered her mouth crudely with mine. "You're the squirting queen."

"I'm so fucking horny," she panted. "You just made me cum nonstop, and all I want is more."

I pressed my hard cock deep into her, feeling it poke her cervix. I felt demonic. All I wanted to do was pound the shit out of her.

"Hang on, baby," she said. "I need some water. Fuck. My head is spinning. Can we take two minutes for a water break and some coke?"

Instead of answering -- I think I was still in shock at how hot this was and couldn't speak -- I just picked her up and carried her inside, as if I were a groom carrying his bride across the threshold. Our bodies were sticky and wet. Rita helped herself to a bottle of water and chugged the whole thing. At the same time, I dumped an eight ball of cocaine out onto a tray, cutting lines.

"Here you go, baby," I said, pushing the setup toward Rita.

She snorted two lines, then handed me the straw. I indulged in two of my own, and she smiled at me as I raised my head up again.

"Will you give me a booty bump, too?" she asked. "Then I want you to destroy my ass. I want it like you give it to Kat when you're mad at her."

"You want to be my little anal coke whore?" I said mischievously.

"I want to feel like you own me, like you do Kat," she said and kissed me.

I smiled at her. I didn't know why at the time, but it was clear things with Rita had taken a turn in a new and very enticing direction. After all the Tommy drama with my girlfriends, this felt like karma rewarding me with a precious gift for my patience and tolerance. I resolved to make a move to bring Rita closer. If nothing else, she would serve as the perfect distraction during the girls' parties during football season. But part of me sensed the possibility for something more, something that I could use as a jealousy lever if I needed to.

My thoughts were interrupted, however, when Rita pushed the medicine plunger she had prepared with a water-cocaine solution into my hand. She grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the bedroom. Seductively, she crawled onto the bed, ass high in the air.

"Give me that coke, baby," she said, "and wreck this ass. You've made me an anal-craving slut."

I smiled. Rita Johnson, Houston's bombshell weather girl, spread her ass cheeks for me. I was going to make her mine, I resolved. If Kat or Jess went off the rails, I would distract myself by seeing just how far I could push Rita down the road of debauchery.