Wolf Whistle

Her mouth made an obscene sucking, slobbery sound as I tried to pull against the suction she formed with her lips wrapped tight around my poor cock. Her head bobbed up and down, mimicking the wet, warm confines of a cunt, well, a cunt with a tongue added to swirl around the super sensitive head of my thoroughly blood engorged erection, dipping her tongue tip into the slit on the end, snorting as she sucked, as though it were a fucking straw to a vanilla milkshake in my balls.

I strained against the straps but it was no use. Spreadeagled there on my bed, I was being sexually assaulted, violated, and god damn it, enjoying it far too much.

Her blond hair obscured her face, but I knew her eyes were glowing with that manic intensity she got. Crazy as a full moon fox, she was not going to show me any mercy. All I could see of her face, angelic and devilish at the same time, were those fat, ruby red lips, with that crazy lipstick smeared all over her face, slurping noisily on my rock rocket, my phat phallus, my completely uncooperative cock.

Should I scream? Uh, no, not something I'd ever do. Wish my nipples weren't getting hard. Sending the wrong message to this girl. I mean, how old was she? Fucking old enough to know better.

Old enough to break into my house, sneak upstairs, strap my arms to the bed posts and then tie my ankles to the legs of the bed. Fuck, wish I didn't sleep so soundly.

And wish she wasn't so damned...cute. No, cute doesn't quite do it. Dangerously gorgeous, and she fucking knew it too. Face of a cherub, body of a whore, mind of Lucifer. My neighbor's kid, and all I did was whistle at her. Not really a kid, though, looking at how she'd filled out this past year or so.

It was a god damn joke! The wolf whistle was meant to be, like, you know, fresh, to kind of tease her a bit, a good natured neighborly kind of thing. But hearing it, she turned those crazed eyes on me, smiled a smile I could feel in my balls, and then lifted up her t shirt to flash a tit at me. Nice one too, bout the size of a casaba, just as firm, white like yogurt, and the aureole was about mouth sized, just how I like'em.

Her name was Lucy. Fir. No shit. John and Mary Fir named their daughter Lucy.

I woke up like this, bound, with her mouth masticating on my privates. She'd lit a couple of candles around the room, so the light was low and gold. Her head was starting to look like an oil pump. I looked at her ass, waving around behind her like a fucking full moon in the darkened room. No tail, though. But there was a dimple above the cleft of her crack where she probably had the damn thing removed.

I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of cumming. Well, I wasn't until I did. My word, the girl could suck. When she felt me to commence cumming, she opened her mouth, continued to stroke me with her hands and aimed my cum shots onto her face. Then she crawled up and rubbed her cheeks all over mine. It was sticky. Then, she hunched her hips forward and stuck that incredibly cute young twat on my mouth.

What could I do? She whispered, sort of a low, devil like growl, that if I didn't start licking, she was going to suffocate me with it.

There are worse ways to go.

As I licked and sucked on her hairless, swollen and absolutely nasty little post pubescent pussy, she smashed the lips of it against my face, sort of grinding on my mouth and masturbating her clit against my nose. She even moved her asshole up and had me stick my tongue in there.

She tasted like an angel from heaven must taste like if you could, like, slide under one's robe and nuzzle up between their heavenly thighs. And the smell emanating from that twat would raise a mountain several feet higher, elevate the Eiffel Tower another few meters, launch a moon rocket without any rocket fuel.

Definitely the aromas I was inhaling kept me hard as an oil drilling bit despite my having just cum all over her face, or, I suppose, maybe because of that. The image of those splats of my hot sperm splootching onto her flower petal soft, pink, smiling cheeks, cute nose and fat red lips would not vacate my cranium soon.

She held my head and fucked my face and was secreting some kind of oozy thick sticky liquid out from inside her pussy, which was all red and swollen. No doubt her maw was a fiery portal that was a short cut to Hades. Probably consume me in hellfire as soon as she locked it around my cock.

Tasted like wine though.

She was grunting as she humped my face, and sort of drooling on me at the same time. She had a shirt on that was cut up to just below her tits and she put on hand inside it, pinching her little nipples, real hard, and squeezing her melons like she could milk casaba juice out of them. With the other hand she grabbed a handful of my hair to guide my mouth to her swollen little bud of a clit.

She came on my face, twat jammed hard against my mouth and nose, thighs locked tight around my ears - I almost died. From strangulation or if not that, then I mighta drowned in the flash flood of cum that erupted from inside her.

You bet, she had to kiss me again, of course. Tongue wrestling with mine, those fat lips mashed like two super soft pillows of lust against mine, and that meant we were both slurping up our combined sexual secretions too.

She got real close and looked into my eyes and I swear I couldn't see anything inside em, nothing, not a hint of sanity or sense. Gonna fuck you now, Bob, she whispered into my ear. Gonna slip my sweet, young, tight little pussy down onto yer big cock and fuck the shit out of you, Bob. Gonna make you shoot cum rockets into me hot and nasty little cunt, then I'm gonna jam the whole soggy mess of it against your mouth and make you suck it clean, Bob.

My name's not Bob. But I didn't feel obliged to correct her. Her eyes clearly showed that she was way beyond any rational appeal to better judgment anyway. Musta been high on some sort of new drug, I conjectured. I'd be lucky to survive the night. Fucked to death.

It's possible, right? In yer dreams.

She changed her demeanor then. She let her demonic face become all angelic like, adorable, as innocent as a church going choir girl. She bit her lip, arched her eyebrows, and with a kind of hurt little girl look she placed her soggy slit against my tumescent tube.

Don't fuck me, Bob, she pouted. Please don't put your big hard old member inside me innocent little nookie, Bob. I'm saving my cunny for marriage to the vicar's son.

As she spoke, she lowered herself down slowly, gradually, exquisitely, until I couldn't stand it anymore and I thrust upwards and stabbed the full length of my righteous sword of love inside what felt like a warm, wet, velvet vice. And oh my sweet lord, she could do things with the inside of her cunt that good girls shouldn't be able to do.

Which, of course, was why she could do them.

She looked hurt. Oh, my, you brute, you bad, bad, man, she whimpered softly, you're fucking my sweet, unfucked, virgin vaginer with that thing, that nasty, ugly, old sperm spurting thing. Are you going to shoot your cum inside me?

Damn you, I said, and I tried everything I could do to defuse and deflate the situation. I brought up mental pictures of baseball, Mother Theresa, my second wife. But when she began humping that beautiful moony ass up and down, alternately clutching, then releasing my love stick with her kegel trained cunt, I'd a had to been dead to not respond.

She spit a loogie on my chest and then dipped her finger in it to rub against her clit as she fucked me. See, I wasn't fucking her. She was doing me. That would be important in the followup investigation conducted at the crime scene, I figured.

Damn I wish I wasn't such a stud. Am I so irresistible to the opposite sex? Wish I hadn't worked out so much.

You nasty fuck man, she again whisper/whimpered into my ear, all school girl innocent like, you gonn' make me have a orgasmic explosion in my cunny, I can feel it. Please don't shoot your spermatozoa inside me, Bob, don't make me bear your bastard love child. I'll be a ruined woman. As it is, I won't be able to walk straight for a week, Bob.

Fuck it, I said, and I began thrusting and humping into her twitchy twat like a madman. She rode me then, acting sort of just like some virtuous angel who couldn't but help herself. Oh, Bob! Fuck my cute little cunny cunt. Make me cum all over your balls and bed, Bob, and make me love you forever. I want your semen inside me. I want to feel your dick deliver seeds of lust way up inside my virginal love tunnel.

Where does she come up with this stuff? How I wished I could rip my hands and legs free, seize her horny and prolly horned body and stick my cock all they way up her cunt till it fucked her brain stem. But, then, I'd be doing the assaulting, wouldn't I?

She was riding me like a bucking bronco, thighs tight on my torso, one hand waving in the air, the other grabbing a handful of chest hair. I was trying to buck and fuck her at the same time, tossing her up with each upthrust and then feeling her weight crush down on me, swallowing my entire cock inside her spasmodically clutching cunt. Finally, she just sort of hugged me and let my piston penetrate her geyser gushing girl hole like I was a 350 hp engine on overdrive. She licked my nipples and sucked them into her mouth. Then she reached a hand beneath us and she stuck a finger as far up my ass as it would go.

Well, that did it. My cock became a firework rocket shooting sparks of sperm and my brain sort of imploded down into my balls, which seemed to empty the entire liquid content of my body one searing jet of cum at a time deep into her palpitating pussy. Her entire body began vibrating like a Peterbilt does when it's started up, then she began talking in tongues and sort of auto humping against me and I could hear sloshing sounds coming from our churning genitals. She was spraying saliva and her eyes rolled back in her head, her throat making gutteral gargling sounds as if my cum was shooting right through her and coming up her throat.

I lost consciousness. Maybe Lucy did too, I couldn't tell, because it was, like, three o'clock in the morning when I came to. She was gone.

I was still tied up. Fuck me.

And I remained so till the next morning when my friend came by, saying he'd got an anonymous text - from my cell phone no less - that I mighta needed help and that my back door was wide open.

Imagine how vulnerable and sensitive a situation it was, me all naked and covered in dried cum, trying to explain how I'd been sexually assaulted, taken advantage of, molested and violated by a sex fiend, nubile, sexy, young and beautiful though she was.

I did not elicit an ounce of sympathy from Hank. Envy, sure, like, he acted as if he woulda changed places with me in a New York minute. Anyway, he convinced me the authorities would not be interested or empathetic of my victimhood.

Lucy pranced around the neighborhood, acting as if nothing had happened. Later that same day, she flounced, brazen as brass, right by my garage and didn't even glance in my direction, talking on her phone, laughing all girlish and cute, wiggling that moon ass and wagging them casabas in another cut short damn t shirt. I was aghast at her wanton display.

But I damn sure whistled at her.