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“Ohhhh shit,” the big man groaned, coming hard once again. “Oh shit, oh shit.”
And I closed my eyes and mewled, face pressed into the pillow, ass lifted in the air. Because Mr. Martin had just breached my anus for the first time and it’d been so electrifying, so sensational, that I was unable to speak. “Mmm!” I choked into the soft cotton, “Mmmm!”
Besides, what could I say? Please, keep me with you? Please, tell me to drop out of school so that we can keep having hot sex, I’ll let you put your dick in me whenever, wherever you want? It sounded ludicrous, even to me. I was an eighteen year-old teen, unformed, unsure of myself, while Mr. Martin was an alpha male, confident, assertive, with women hanging onto his every word. Why would he want me when he could have an elegant sophisticate, one with a swan-like neck, flowing highlights and manicured nails? In comparison, I was a mouse with my dishwater hair and brown eyes.
But despite all that, my curvy form was making him spew now, his dick pulsing and jerking in my ass, white blasting my insides hard.
“Oh FUCK,” he roared. “Fuck fuck fuck.”
And I moaned my response.
“Yes, Mr. Martin, yes.” And of their own volition my hands crept backwards to seize my buttcheeks, pulling the white flesh apart, the creamy orbs spreading so he could get even deeper.
And the man positively lost it, doing the unthinkable. While spewing sperm he pulled his dick out of my ass and pressed it right against my pussy. Not into me, no, but right up against my open hole so that the semen jetted into me just the same, up my channel, my insides getting a good dose of the hot, white mess.
“Yes,” I moaned again, “yes, yes, fill me.”
Because just as always, we weren’t using protection. I’m not sure why Rob never brought it up, but I knew my reasons. I wanted him bare. I wanted to that big, thick dick in me, skin and nothing else, because I’d probably never go bareback again until it was time to have a baby. And who knew when that would be? Most career women these days waited until their thirties or even forties, so it could be twenty years before I was so close to a man again.
Yet I knew it was playing with fire. I’m a fertile eighteen year-old, penetrated for the first time, if there was anyone who could get pregnant it was me. But for some reason, the thought didn’t freak me out. The idea of swelling with his seed … well, actually it made me grow hot, my insides mushy, wanting it. Because yeah, I wanted it, I wanted Mr. Martin’s child, wanted his baby, wanted to grow even curvier, my breasts enlarging, my stomach rounding with a child, his child.
But things were so far from that it was ludicrous. Because after our sex session, he merely kissed my forehead, pulling me into those warm arms before drifting to sleep, one hand on my ass, another on my breast. And the next night, it was the same. My pussy and ass were now shaped to his dick, he took me so hard, so thoroughly that I couldn’t even imagine another man’s cock in those spaces, even the thought was disgusting to me, made my stomach turn. But after the incredible sex, there hadn’t been much. Just another kiss from the big man, another sweet suckle at my nipple, a lick on my twat and then sleep.
So now, I was back on campus like it’d never happened. Sure, I’d had scorching sex with the Mr. Martin, but when it came time to leave, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he was oddly silent and watchful as Jonah and I said our good-byes.
“See ya,” mumbled his son. “Wouldn’t want to be ya.”
That made no sense, it was just Jonah being juvenile again. But I wasn’t going to leave with a bad taste in my mouth, so I put a smile on, even though my cheeks hurt doing it.
“Mr. Martin, thank you so much for your hospitality, I really enjoyed Thanksgiving,” I said, pulling my mouth up at the sides. It probably looked ghastly, but it was important to act normal with Jonah standing right there. “It was such a pleasure meeting you, I hope to see you again sometime.”
That would have been the perfect time for Mr. Martin to extend an invitation, something offhand like, “Sure, I’d love to have you over winter break,” or “If you have any career questions, feel free to give me a call.” It wasn’t weird, after all, Rob was a successful businessman and could surely lend an ear and some advice when it came to navigating the corporate world. But no such invitation was forthcoming. Instead, he merely looked at us, blue eyes shuttered, and said neutrally, “No problem, happy to have you. Jonah, got all your stuff?”
