Mayson & Syrie Chronicles Ch. 01

I would just like to say, on the record, that most men are pussies. Oh sure, they talk real big and fuck real hard (when they want to anyway) but all it takes to reduce one to putty is the slip of a nipple or, if you're feeling a little meaner, one quick comment about his inability to make you cum more than once. Low blow? Bull shit. What's the point in having the ability to be multi-orgasmic if you're wasting time with a loser who can barely get you to number one? Pass me some double a's packed inside a swirly gizmo and let me show you what a little energizer bunny can do. That puts them in their place right good.

Me? I'm just a girl from a small ass town no one gives a fuck about. Fresh out of college, wondering what I'm gonna do with my life now that I can't fuck my way into an A. I suppose there's a corporate ladder waiting to test my gag reflex but I'm feeling like it might be time to take my show on the road. I had a friend once who used to make a little money letting old men finger her in Sydney. Maybe the land down under would like my ass...

"Bitch, stop daydreaming on my fucking couch. If you cream it, you're cleaning it, goddamn it."

Meet my best friend Syrie – short for Syracuse. Rumor has it she was conceived there. Her parents are fucking morons, but then again, whose aren't? The dumb ass rednecks fucked in a bathroom stall in a gas station on their way to visit some family member and low and behold, a star was born. We've been friends since kindergarten but Syrie's mama ran off with some car salesman when we were 12 and then in 8th grade, her daddy got a job in Austin and we lost touch. Imagine my surprise when senior year I found her smoking in the bathroom next to my first hour class. Apparently her daddy got fired and they moved back home to live with her grandma. I'm not sure what her daddy thought he was doing, putting the two of us in the same town when we were both 18. Maybe he still thought we were the 5 year olds who opened up a lemonade stand by his trailer. Whatever his thinking, Syrie and I caused more trouble, did less homework and got better grades all thanks to her teaching me most of what I know about seducing boys. We're a little like Thelma and Louise, without the whole driving off a cliff bullshit. Well, that and we're hotter, though back in the day ol' Suzie did have a nice pair of tits.

"Crackwhore, there ain't nothing I can put on this couch that will outdo you blowing Jimmy Stills here on it in after homecoming. I bet that stain from when you tried to swallow but puked instead is still on here... if I could get beneath the one night stand juice," I respond, grabbing her ass as she walks by to sit down next to me. On second thought, the Aussies might really likeherass. Mine is tight but sort of flat, the typical ass you find on girls who only weigh 95 pounds but Syrie weighs about 15 pounds more than me and it's all sitting in nice round globes on either side of her crack.

"Wow, cuntbag, you're really reaching today. Sure, I threw up on Jimmy's cock but at least I didn't get crabs last year from the guy who makes my latte, Mayson."

Yeah, my name's Mayson. I told you everyone's parents are fucked up -Especially in small towns in Texas. I mean, where the fuck else would people think it was cute to name your kid after a jar and worse, misspell it while you were at it? Syrie and I got the fuck out as soon as we graduated high school – the couch came with us because Syrie claimed that it was bad luck to leave so much of herself back in Texas and of course by "herself" she means cum. The girl has a thing for being bent over the ugly ass couch – it's not my fault.

"If I hadn't gotten the crabs, I wouldn't have been able to fuck that doctor to get you your oxy's, my little fuck muffin, so please at least pretend to be grateful. What are we doing today, anyway? You said you had some fun planned. It doesn't involve stuffing ginger up my ass again, does it? That hurt like a motherfucker, even if I did cum harder than I have in my whole life."

"Like a motherfucker... Well, I guess you would know. How is your step daddy these days? Still eating out strippers on their nights off, down at Moe's?"

"You know he only turned to strippers once he couldn't fuck you up the ass. Can you blame the man, though? Jesus, your ass is hot. Stop changing the subject though. What or should I say who, are we doing today? I'm bored."

Syrie and I like to play games. It started with seducing nerds senior year. There's nothing quite like the O face on a guy with glasses, braces and no shot in hell of touching a cheerleader when you blow him in a corner of the library. From there we moved on to college freshman in the dorms at UT Austin. We'd waltz into parties wearing skirts with no panties and flash when their girlfriends weren't looking. If they were cute enough, we'd wait out by the car for them to ditch their dates and let them watch us make out. Sometimes we'd leave em hanging to whack off and sometimes we'd let them join in to cop a feel. It really just depended on our mood. We reserved actual fucking for teachers and coaches. You would be amazed how much fun detention can be and how good for one's gpa. You didn't think I got into college based on my scholastic aptitude, did you?

My biggest conquest in our tiny little high school wasn't the football team, although either of us certainly could have had them. Syrie set my sights way higher, on the principle, Mr. Roman. He was old, about 55, with a beer belly that hung over the khaki pants he wore every single day. He went to church every Sunday and sat next to his wife, Laudette, a fat pig of a woman who wore way too much makeup and still blow dried her crackly brown hair within an inch of its life. Word around town was that she was cheating on him, but we couldn't think of who it could possibly be with.

We figured with all that going on at home, the man deserved some 18 year old pussy but the problem was figuring out how to get him to say yes. I certainly couldn't just walk into his office, strip and fuck him then and there. He had far too many pictures of Jesus up on the wall. Hey, just 'cause I don't believe in the man don't mean I want to piss him off.

We decided the only thing I could do was start slow. It was school policy that if you got detention 3 times in one week, you got hauled into Mr. Roman's office to have a good stern talking to. It was simple enough racking up detentions. I just told Mrs. Marshall to get fucked when she asked where my English assignment was and then walked out of Ms. Wainwright's lame ass Spanish class. With only one more to go, I thought about slapping little Mr. Jackson but I was trying to save bigger things for last so I simply threw wadded up paper balls at his head.

"Mayson Preston, I'm disappointed in you. You know your mama works too damn hard for you to be throwing your education away," Mr. Roman lectured, working hard to keep his eyes on my face. I had worn a real tight wife beater tank top, without a bra and a short jean skirt. I did have panties on, but only because I was sure Mr. Roman was the type to get a little stiff over a glimpse of white cotton.

I pretended to fidget uncomfortably, crossing and uncrossing my legs. I saw his eyes slip and his jaw tighten as his gaze jerked back up. I decided to roll my head from side to side, as if I had a tension headache building, closing my eyes and exposing the length of my neck while pressing my cleavage out. The poor man coughed and adjusted himself in his chair.

"I'm serious, Mayson. Grades aren't the only thing that count in this school, young lady. All I have to do is say the word and you can spend the rest of the year doing extra assignments and cleaning up hallways. Clean your act up, missy, or I'll be talking to your mama."

Again, I faked a look of discomfort. I knew he meant it, but I wasn't afraid of my mama. She was too busy with a couple boyfriends who didn't know about each other to care what I was up to. With my best innocent puppy dog look, I begged Mr. Roman not to rat me out to my mom. I told him that I was just having a hard time paying attention because the classes just weren't hard enough. I asked him if maybe sometimes I could come to his office and he could give me something hard to do. I have to give him credit, he didn't look like he was buying it but he finally said he would think about it after I flashed him a look at my panties again.

Over the next couple of weeks, I was in his office two or three times, prancing around in tight shirts and short skirts. The poor man had to be going out of his mind, but instead of touching me he just brought in more pictures of his wife. I knew that I was going to have to make the first move, but I was nervous because if he didn't go for it, I'd get expelled for sure and more than anything, I wanted to go to college to get out of that shit town.

"Mr. Roman, do you think I'm pretty?" I asked one day. After two weeks with no action, I had decided to switch it up. I was wearing the most conservative clothing I owned, which was just a t-shirt and baggy jeans, but I was certainly more covered than I had been in years. Hell, I was even wearing a bra, albeit one that pushed together my perky B cups in one hell of a sexy way, if I could ever get the opportunity to take the damn shirt off.

Mr. Roman just blinked, unsure what to make of the question.

"No, really, I'm serious. I want to know if... well, if you think I'm pretty. I mean, I'm a senior and I've still never had a boyfriend. Do you think it's cause I'm too skinny?"

"Lots of young women your age are thin, Mayson, and I do not believe that makes them unattractive," Mr. Roman answered, hell bent on keeping the conversation above board and level.

"Really? Because one of the boys in class said that he wouldn't touch me if I were the last girl on earth and all of his friends laughed. He called me... well, I can't say what he called me, 'cause you wouldn't approve of the language, but it wasn't nice," I sniffed a bit and managed to squeeze out one lone tear.

Moving over to him, I stood right next to his chair, my breasts just inches from his nose. I placed my hand on top of his, resting on the arms of his desk chair.

"Mr. Roman, why wouldn't someone want to touch me?" I asked, rubbing my hand over his hand and leaning my tits into his chest.

"Mayson, I hardly think this is an appropriate situation. Please take your hand off of mine and go back to your own chair."

Damn but the man had will power. It was clear to me that playing the innocent wasn't gonna get me where I wanted. Before he could react, I picked up his hand and moved it to my rib cage, just below my breast and then slid it upwards. His face looked shocked but then he cupped it and squeezed slightly, almost involuntarily and then it was just like he snapped.

"You are a little slut, aren't you, Mayson?" He asked with a gleam in his eye, "Prancing around here, trying to turn me on. I ought to fuck you hard on this desk and then expel your ass."

Grabbing me hard, with one hand on each shoulder he pulled me down into his lap. I sensed that part of his bag was being rough and tough and intimidating, so I pretended to be scared.

"Mr. Roman, what are you doing?" I squealed, while at the same time, squirming my ass across his crotch.

"You think you can come in here and cock tease me and get away with it? You don't think this new, more fully clothed look fools me do you? You and your little friend Syrie probably think I'm some harmless old man who you can make hard and then laugh about at home."

"N-no Mr. Roman, I don't even know what you're talking about. I mean, yeah, I am wearing different clothes today but that's just cause nothing was clean and I had to borrow something from my mama. You think I dress slutty the rest of the time? I thought I looked cute," I pouted.

"Cute is a five year old dressed up for church. You strut around here looking like a crack whore needing some cock, thinking it's cool to make me want to touch you. Well, I'm gonna touch you all right," he growled and then ripped my tshirt right off.

He caught sight of my lacy white bra, pushing my titties up and sneered as if it was proof of his theory. He just sat there and stared at the outlines of my nipples and for a moment I thought he was gonna lose his nerve. I pretended to try to stand up, but really just pushed into his cock. The contact pulled him back into the moment and he leaned forward and took my nipple into his mouth, bra and all.

"Oh, Mr. Roman," I sighed, "Your mouth is so warm." It was hard not to laugh, trying to talk him up, but I needed to keep fueling the fire.

"You like that, you little slut? Of course you do but you have no idea what you're in for," he said just before biting my nipple.

I let out a very real scream and he moved a large hand to cover my mouth. His other hand was pawing my other tit, ripping the lace of my bra until my breast was completely exposed, though still held in a perky cleavage inducing position. He pinched my nipple and then moved his mouth to it. I was so afraid that he was gonna bite it that I trembled for real. He took this to mean that he had me in submission and suddenly slowed down a bit.

"You want me to make you feel good, baby?" he asked, sliding his fingers over my stomach.

I smiled, realizing that I had won. I could do whatever I wanted now.

"No, I'm gonna make you feel good, but first I want you to spank me. You know I've been a bad girl."

Standing up, I began unzipping my jeans. I slowly pushed them down over my hips so that he could just see the top of my thong.

"See anything you like?" I giggled, shaking my ass near him.

"Sweet Christ on crutches," he swore under his breath. His dick was so hard I thought it was gonna pop right through those damn khaki pants.

I threw my jeans across the room and removed the remains of my bra before turning around to face him. I thought his eyeballs were gonna pop right out of his head when he saw that little triangle of white lace covering my pussy. I had shaved everything around it and I could tell he was wondering if there was any hair beneath it but before he could pull them down to find out, I laid myself over his desk with my ass facing him.

"Come on, Mr. Roman, punish me. Slap my ass. You know you want to."

He picked his hands up off of the arms of his chair but instead of slapping my ass, he caressed my cheeks. Kneading and rubbing, he copped a feel like he had never laid hands on an 18 year old ass before. Hell, he probably hadn't and I knew damn well his wife's ass wasn't all tight and perfect like mine. He continued to rub and ran a finger down my crack, moving the lace of my thong out of the way. Just when I thought he was either gonna lick my taint or finger me, he hauled off and slapped my ass so hard, I nearly slid off the other side of his desk. Repositioning myself and holding on tighter, I looked over my shoulder and told him to do it again.

My ass was so red after just a few slaps and I was starting to not be entertained by the spankings, so I grabbed his hand and guided it toward my pussy. I led his fingers right to that tiny patch of cloth, and felt him push it aside exposing my fully shaved pussy. He began to rub the wetness that was starting to form.

"You're all wet from me smacking your ass? Jesus, Mayson, I thought I was gonna fuck you but you're gonna teach me a thing or two, aren't you?"

"You know it," I said, turning over so that I was laid out, spread eagle on his desk, "Eat my pussy. Go on, lick it, daddy."

Mr. Roman leaned forward, pushed my ass into the air and took off my thong. He threw it across the room near my jeans and shoved a finger inside my pussy. Rubbing my juices around with his fingers, he then lifted his hand to my mouth. I have to say that sucking my cream off his fingers was actually pretty hot. I hadn't really expected to get so turned on by him. I just wanted to say that I'd fucked him, but damn, the sexual frustration he had going on at home really turned the man into one kinky desk fucker. He leaned forward and licked my pussy and I arched on the desk, it felt so damn good.

Pushing my hips down he kept licking my clit, enjoying the moans which I didn't even have to fake. He slipped two fingers inside me and rammed them in and out roughly, but I didn't mind. I was so close to coming from all of the attention to my clit.

"Oh, oh God, Fuck Mr. Roman, I'm gonna cum. Oh shit. Oh God Ohhhhh."

"That's right, Mayson, cum for me. I assure you later, I'm gonna cum all over you. Come on, baby, cum harder," he said rolling my clit in a way that I was sure was supposed to hurt but just made me cum twice in a row.

"Holy fuck, Mr. Roman," I said when I had recovered my breath, "That felt so fucking good."

"Damn right, now get on your fucking knees and blow me, you little slut. I want to feel my cock ramming down your throat."

I was a little unsteady as I stood up from the desk, I had cum that hard, but I was eager to show this prick that I could one up him. He thought that he was in charge just 'cause I came on his desk? I would have him begging me to let him fuck me before he even knew it.

I unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out of his whitey tighties. I absolutely hate whitey tighties but I had to let this perv know who the boss was.

"You want me to play with your cock, Mr. Roman?" I asked, running my fingertips over his swollen head. "You want me to tongue your balls and deep throat your big cock? I can but you're gonna have to ask nicely."

"Suck my cock, you fucking whore," he growled, moving my hand to stroke his cock.

"Now now, Mr. Roman, I said nicely," I smiled, sliding my fingers up and down, feeling his cock jump at my touch. I wondered when the last time he got a hand job was.

"Fuck you. Suck my cock. Suck my cock now."

I stopped my fingers and moved my face near his cock, "Say please."

"Please you little slut, just su-" his words were cut off as I licked the head of his cock and then slowly slid him into my mouth.

Thanks to the nerds in the library my blow job skills were tip top. I had Mr. Roman's cock, balls deep in my mouth and throat, with him grunting like an animal within 5 seconds. His hands moved to my head and he directed me up and down for a bit, until I motioned for him to let me do my own thing. I sucked that fucker within an inch of his life but just when I felt he was about to cum, I would sit up and wait about thirty seconds. The first time he looked like he was gonna smack me right across the face but when I began sucking again he surrendered and just hoped I had a plan. I teased his cock another couple of times before I stood up, laid back across his desk and instructed him to walk around to the side where my head was. I leaned my head off the edge of the desk and told him to fuck my mouth. I have never seen a man look so excited. He pumped his cock into my mouth so hard and fast, I thought I was going to suffocate but I managed to take him. It was only a few seconds before he began grunting and moaning again.

"Oh, oh oh shit fucking shit you dirty whore, you like sucking my cock, don't you?" he said in between gasps for air, "Oh shit fuck god damn I'm gonna cum." He swore as his hot jizz spilled down my throat.

I swallowed his load and then sat up, the blood rushing to my head from being bent over backwards on the desk. I knew that if I wanted him to beg to fuck me, I was gonna have to pretend like I intended to stop there. I stood up and started moving towards my clothes.

"Mr. Roman, you ripped my clothes. How on earth am I supposed to leave your office?"

Mr. Roman looked dumbfounded.

"Leave? Baby, you ain't leaving yet. I ain't even half done with you."

"But I have to, Mr. Roman. My mama is expecting me home by four, just like always." I lied, trying to look innocent, which really isn't that easy with a man's jizz still on your lips.