Fill This
I'm practising in my new cute cheer uniform in the basement.
Yeah, I did my schedule check.
That prick Clay should be at basketball practice.
Oh fuck, I do great splits.
Frickin camel-toe exposure beauties.
Crap!
Hang-dog face Clay arrives.
Geez, he's got it bad, not even my pouty, puffy pussy one tight layer down can arouse his interest.
"Fuck! Do you live in this room!" he says.
"Shared space," I say.
His hand flies everywhere.
"I got dropped from the squad. I just want to play pinball alone."
Yeah, there's a retro machine in the corner.
I prefer balls slapping against my arse, not glass.
"Clay! Clay! Boy you need a lay!"
I lean over the pool table, my forearms flat against the green felt, my ass presented toward him.
Well, more than my arse.
I've pulled my compression knickers aside.
Fuck, I look good when my winglets flutter between my spread arse cheeks.
How do I know!
Mirror, mirror on the wall, I fuckin' bent over and appreciated the self-view.
A modern girl needs to know what she's offering.
I look back over my shoulder.
Clay won't be playing pinball.
He's rubbing his balls in his shorts.
"Come here. Fill the only useful space a boy needs to know."
Trust me, being coy or giving guys mixed messages is a waste of time.
Sluts get fucked.
Nice girls, well, they go to church, the library, and still hump their teddies in secret.
I'm doggy, waiting for a boner.
I'm not kept waiting.
He strides towards me.
Sheez! Am I ready?
I spit on my palm.
A fat wad of bubbly, frothy saliva.
I quickly smear my cute hole.
Fuck, it was leaking already.
Yep, the prick stabs into my cute folds like a girl has an internal tap they just turn on, when a guy one push thrusts to the hilt.
"Orggh! Fuck! Yes! Yes! Orggh Fuck! Ooohh! Oohh!"
Something about a savage, feral, stiff shaft ramraid that excites me.
The slappy, sloppy sound of balls thwacking against soft arse cheeks.
My cute wet love tunnel being stretched, filled, and my jus lubricating his pecker on its in and out, in and out mission.
"Fuck," he grunts, his hips cuffing against my ass, the sound echoing in the cool basement.
"Fuck, you're so fucking tight."
He's not mistaken.
I'm fuckin' little miss tighter than tight.
I push back against each thrust, meeting him, the pool table edge digging into my thighs.
"Harder," I demand, "Wreck my pussy."
That's nonsense, but guys like to hear that one.
He jackhammers my coochie.
I love the shove and jag.
Fuck, I'm heading for the highest girly peak.
He snarls something wordless, his hand fisting in my hair, yanking my head back so my throat is exposed.
His other hand reaches around, finding my clit, rubbing rough circles that make my legs shake.
Well, now I'm a complete goner.
"Oohh! Yes! Yes! Fuck! Aahh! Orrghh!"
Girly sensation overload.
Stretch and tingle combine.
I hit Mount McKinley.
Fuck, my climax is intense.
And it frickin' holds.
Clamps and locks in a luxurious body loop.
It sways and stays, till it fades in short, wonderful, lingering pulses.
"Arrghh!" he groans.
Yep, he packs my pussy with boy cream.
I pat his cheek.
Pull my knickers back into place under my cheer skirt and grab a soft drink from the bar fridge.
Clay is wiping his cock on his t-shirt.
Pulls up his pants.
Shit, I'm leaking cream through my knickers, stuck to the sofa vinyl.
The pinball machine catches my eye—an old Williams machine with faded artwork, sitting in the corner.
I walk over to it, my bare feet cold on the concrete, and run my hand along its polished surface.
"You know," I say, not looking back at him, "I used to be pretty good at this back at my old school."
Behind me, I hear him move, his footsteps approaching.
He stops beside me, his shoulder almost touching mine.
I can still smell the sex on him—the sweeter parts have to be me.
"Yeah?" he says, and there's something different in his voice.
Not friendly exactly, but less hostile.
A grudging curiosity.
"You start," I say.
He flips a ball into action.
He plays well.
Build a decent score.
Collects a spare ball.
Oh, fuck this!
My fingers find his balls under his shorts.
He's losing concentration on the flippers fast.
I'm in control of the balls that count.