1. Smack


    Date: 8/28/2015, Categories: Anal, Author: Lupus, Rating: , Source: LushStories

    I’m proud of its menace. She stops and we both listen to the complete silence. If anyone is home, I don’t hear them. Neither does Zoey, as she tries to wriggle free. A wet, tickling tongue slides across the palm of my gagging hand and I snatch it away with a clucking tut. “Dirty bitch…! You were supposed to stay outside!” “And you were supposed to stay quiet and be quick, not smash fuck out of the place and be here all day! No one’s home, so I came in! Keep your fucking thong on.” Her arms thrash against my grip and her feet shuffle. “Sometimes, Zoey, I could just…” My tone fades with the hint of a growl. “You’re the one holding me, tough man.” She tries to look at me. I know it’ll be a patronising sneer; I don’t allow it. She sighs and slumps, pretending to be bored. “Let me go or put up and fuck me. I don’t care which; just make your mind up. I’m bored.” ‘What kind of squeal would she give if I shoved her face onto my cock and fucked her throat? I bet the tough bitch would whine like a cheap whore and beg to be fucked.’ “Don’t tempt me.” I let go and she stumbles forward. My hand smacks her arse and she turns to stare at me. Her long, dark hair is usually lank and unkempt, but now it bushes around her. It matches the wild look in her dark eyes. “You don’t have it in you, pin dick.” She tries to smooth out her unflattering clothes. She’s not a big girl – poverty, drug addictions and a general contempt for food is a hell of a combination – but her clothes do nothing to show ...
    her size. A large hoody drapes over her shoulders, exposing her pale, thin neck like a strand of unruly cotton. The fabric bunches and hangs off her in all the wrong places. It shows nothing of the scrawny body beneath except over her bony shoulders – and occasionally her modest breasts. Zoey doesn’t wear clothes to look pretty. Sometimes, I think Zoey begrudges wearing clothes at all. She straightens up and almost looks my six feet frame in the eye. Her height is accentuated by her slight shape and her long, straight hair. I’ve told her to cut it or style it into something different, but she doesn’t care. Her hair is the least of her concerns when she’s after her fix – whatever that fix may be. With Zoey, you can take your pick. I step forward with a furrowed brow, locked jaw and broad shoulders. It’s all part of an intimidating demeanour I’ve honed over the years. Zoey’s eyes flit side to side and she backs up against the wall, looking up at me. I lock my gaze with hers, towering over the skeletal woman. My palms slam past her, into the wall. She’s forced to look directly at me with wide, uncertain eyes. “You know that my cock’s the best you’ve had, girl. I remember you begged like a little whore for more.” A smug smirk smears across my features. I lean in towards her. “You’d be my little slut right now, if I asked. But for now, shut up before anyone finds out we’re here and the sirens come wailing.” ‘Perhaps that won’t have helped things.’ I step back and watch her strained ...
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