Page 7 of Stretched


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“I bet I can name all the filthy fucking things you’re thinking about right now.”

I can’t move, can’t even breathe.

“Go on, take it out.”

My stomach is hollowing in and out at his words, and I lift shaky hands to place them on his thick, tree-trunk muscular thighs. He leans back to brace his hands on the mattress behind him, giving me access to what we both want.

The drawstrings of his shorts are already untied, and I loop my fingers under the elastic of the waist, pulling them down. He lifts up slightly to give me better access, and then the nylon is falling off his thighs and pooling around his ankles.

I feel my eyes widen as his cock springs forward. He isn’t wearing any underwear, and that knowledge has my heart racing even more. I stare at his dick, the tip showing me the copious amounts of pre-cum lining the slit.

His balls hang underneath his cock, heavy in appearance, masculine.

My mouth waters for a taste, but I know right now that’s not what this is about.

“No going back.” He shifts on the bed, his cock bouncing slightly in front of my face.

“No going back,” I repeat and stare into his eyes. “I don’t want to stop.”

He’s silent for a second then makes this deep, gruff sound. This pleased sound. “Good,” he says harshly. His lips are parted, his eyes half-mast. He looks drugged as he stares at me.

I watch in awe as he grabs hold of his cock and strokes himself, staring at my breasts while he does it. He takes his other hand and curls his fingers around my shoulder, pulling me in closer. I’m still pressing my breasts together, and watch as he brings his dick toward me, sliding the tip under and up my cleavage so the twin mounds are now framing his huge length.

God, he’s so hot and thick, like this steel rod that’s been warmed.

I’m panting at this point, what we’re doing so wrong but oh, so good.

“Keep those titties pressed together,” he groans out and starts to lift his hips and retreats. He does this over and over, sliding his cock between my breasts, fucking me that way. “Yeah, baby,” he groans and closes his eyes for a second. “Christ. That’s so fucking it.”

I’m so wet, my panties drenched, my clit tingling. I want this, want Coach Big to fuck me, to take my virginity and claim me right here in the school locker room. It would be so dirty, so taboo, but God I want him. I’ve never desired anyone before, never even wanted to give myself over to a guy. But with Coach Big that’s all I can think about, all I can picture in my head.

“Coach Big.” I whisper his name when he starts pumping up and down faster.

“It’s Markus,” he says harshly and stares right in my eyes.

“I like calling you Coach Big,” I admit and feel my cheeks heat.

He groans and closes his eyes for only a second before opening them again and staring at me. “You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you, baby?”

I lick my lips and nod, surprised I’m not humiliated by admitting all of this.

“I like when you call me Coach Big, Lily. Makes this seem a little wrong, doesn’t it?”

I nod, being so honest and bared to him that I can’t even begin to comprehend it all.

“Yeah, this is wrong, baby girl, but so fucking right.” He thrusts his hips up harder. “So. Fucking. Good.”

After he says that he picks up his motion, titty-fucking me like he is frantic to come, like he is losing control.

Like I am making him lose control.

He wraps his hand loosely around my throat, not adding any pressure, but the heavy weight of his palm lets me know he is the one in control. And I feel a gush of moisture leave me at that thought, at the feeling and sensations that claim me.

“You like this? You like what I’m doing to you?”

I can’t speak, so I nod instead.

“Yeah, you fucking like it.” He’s breathing hard as he keeps watching me and I know he’s going to come, I know I’m the one who’s going to make him get off. “You ready, baby?”

I don’t need him to elaborate or tell me what I am ready for. I know. “I’m ready,” I whisper.

He doesn’t say anything else, but I watch as a drop of perspiration slides down his temple. He’s losing control.

And then he groans roughly and tips his head back, letting go of my throat and reaching down to grip the sheets on the mattress, as if he’s trying to keep himself grounded for what’s to come.

“Yes,” he hisses out and then he gets off. Thick, hot white jets of cum shoot out the tip of his rock-hard dick and coat my chest, a splattering of erotic paint that has me gasping. I press my thighs together, cry out as the pressure moves right to my clit, and I’m now the one to close my eyes and moan softly.

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