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© Copyright 2017, Veronica Sloan, All Rights Reserved
NOTICE: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Disclaimer: This story contains explicit content, including graphic descriptions of sexual intercourse. It is intended for adults only. All characters depicted are over the age of 18. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.
Author's Note: This is a work of erotic fantasy. The sexual situations depicted in this book are occasionally performed under the influence of demonic mind control. In real life, consent is never an option (demons or no demons). That's why I've written this story down, so we can enjoy being naughty together in the privacy and comfort of our minds. Thank you for partaking in my smut, and remember to bump uglies responsibly!
Cover design by Veronica Sloan. Cover Photo © Can Stock Photo Inc. / iofoto.
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I was the nicest, sweetest closet slut you ever met.
As the months stretched into years my weekends followed a predictable pattern. After graduate school, after my stupid job as an ethics counselor, after a designated "girls night," I'd find a handsome stranger and let him do his worst. He didn't need to be super handsome, just slightly older and outside my social circle. I called him "daddy" and begged him to get me off.
Herman Padilla wanted me to dominate him. I was glad to. After scores of drunken kisses in his car I dragged him over the sidewalk and into his house, pinned his wrists to the floor and mounted him like he was my little pony. Unfortunately, his eagerness to get inside me must have sprained his little heart. He had a minor cardiac incident, which curtailed the evening's festivities.
Scott Kim had a cocksure grin and deft fingers, and he used both to get me to drop my panties in a movie theater. He tickled me to the brink of paradise before the lights came up and the usher informed us there was a fire in the projection booth.
Ryan LaMonte was an asshole but he was the one ex Lindsey never shut up about when she was drunk. Dumb and well hung, Ryan seemed like the right man to call on one particularly drunk and lonely night of my own. He said he'd love to hang out but he was currently in the hospital for testicular torsion. I said I was sorry and hung up. Then I spent two hours idly scrolling naughty Tumblrs and stroking myself to no avail.
I know this doesn't make what I did right, I just hope you understand. When I decided to suck Brooklyn's cock it was because I'd run out of options. I mumbled a quiet apology as he hardened in my mouth, then I slurped him down my throat.
My reluctance had nothing to do with the obscene act itself. Brooklyn was a handsome man and he had an equally handsome cock; his balls were the color of polished oak and his shaft a beautiful brown. It emerged from his underwear like a curved branch, thick and solid and strong. I wanted to suck on it, I wanted to ride it, I wanted to feel his big hands pull me down on it. I just didn't want his girlfriend to hate me when he did.
We danced around this affair for months, me pretending not to notice when he checked me out, him keeping his mouth shut that time I masturbated in front of him. That was the worst. I listened to him fuck May for a half an hour until I couldn't take it anymore. I put my hands on myself, right there on the couch, and imagined it was me on the other side of the wall. They didn't know I was home so when he finished he strode to the kitchen naked, his dick still wet and dripping. He'd done his job well; I could hear her panting in her room.
I covered my mouth and froze with my hand in my panties but he saw me. He didn't say a word. He just leaned against the kitchen table and waited for me to finish.
I pretended to finish. I really gave it my all, squirming and squealing and shivering all over. He liked that. He liked knowing there were two women in the apartment who wanted him. Fresh from his Olympic fuck he still got hard watching me. My mouth watered at the sight of that thickening branch, at the pinkish umber of his swollen cockhead. Then he grinned, took his water, and left. After that I knew it was just a matter of time.
I tried so hard to keep away, tried to console my aching lust with bad date after bad date after worse date. I let Dave fuck me behind the office supplies, I even let Lindsey eat me out after a sloppy night at the bar. Neither worked and neither could work. I couldn't cum.
First world problems, right? I had everything else in my favor. An undergrad in Communications, soon a Masters in Business Administration. Meanwhile I was living the dream of every twenty-something, working a mid-level position at Weisz & Tanaka making sure nobody was sexually harassing their co-workers and sharing a swanky loft with my swanky college besty. I had a fine relationship with my mom, a good but weird relationship with my step-dad, I ran an eight-minute mile, and marathons, and all through the night when I couldn't sleep.
I mean, I couldn't sleep most nights. Sometimes I'd just lie awake and fantasize about being pulled out of my bed by some hooded maniac and...forcing him to assault me until I finally squirted from the guilt. Not the healthiest thought for a healthy young woman, I suppose. Which is what I was, to all intents and purposes. Except I couldn't cum.
It hit me in the gut whenever a nice date came to an end. It sucker punched me whenever a man showed a little bit of talent with his tongue. That was as far as it got, and no warm hand to hold, no longing look, no chocolates or flowers or dinner date would make up for what I spent my nights running away from.
I wanted it. The first year was okay. The second year was frustrating. The third year I threw away my standards. I let men have me in the vain hope that someone, somewhere, might shake something loose.
Never worked. So I went a little crazy.
One day while May was at class I just said fuck it and pushed Brooklyn up against the wall. His protest was easily silenced by my lips. Then I got down on my knees and gave him the best blowjob of his life. I had to. I had to make him feel how badly I wanted him inside me. No condom, no warning, just his beautiful brown cock squishing against my tongue and my fingers massaging his balls.
"Tanya, shit!" he grunted above me.
"Mmhmm," I moaned into his dick.
"You want it bad, don't you?"
I answered by taking him as far down my throat as I could stomach. I choked a little, but I've learned that guys get off on that. His balls twitched in my hands, his big dick bulged against my lips. I sucked the last dribbles of spit off his cockhead and then bent over the couch. I quickly slipped my jeans down my hips. "Do me here," I demanded.
"Uh, I don't have any--"
"I don't care!" I shouted. "You can cum in me if you want."
The way he ripped my panties down made me squeal with joy. I liked it rough, I liked turning men into animals. It was like shoving a joy buzzer against my clit, so I was wetter than any decent girl should be. He dipped his fingers inside my slit with guttural appreciation. "Damn, girl," he muttered.
"Fuck me with your big black cock!" I screamed.
"Oh, you're gonna get it," he promised. He slapped my naked ass. Then he took two covetous handfuls. "If May finds out I fucked you she's gonna kill me. You understand that?"
"I'll let you do whatever you want to me," I moaned. "Just fuck me like a whore."
That was all he needed to hear. The bliss of his thickness nearly moved me to tears. When he slid inside me, every nerve buzzed like a plucked guitar string--from my nail beds to my buttocks, through my ears and to the tender tips of my nipples. I bent lower over the couch so he could push even deeper. He forced me up on my tiptoes.
I screamed every obscenity I knew until I ran out of words and just made animal noises. This time would be different, I felt it in my bones. Brooklyn wasn't impotent, he wouldn't be called away by an emergency, he was straighter than an arrow and horny as hell. He was mine for this stolen moment and he was going to fuck me rotten. Each time his balls smacked my clit I cried out for more. The sting was superb. His lean muscles were built to fuck horny little tramps like me.
"Yes, daddy," I groaned. "Harder, please!"
He performed on request, spanking my ass with fresh fury. "You're a nasty bitch, aren't you?"
"So nasty," I panted. "Nasty as you want me to be." I squeezed my walls together to prove I meant business.
"Fuck that's tight," he gasped. "Fuck, Tanya. You really want me to cum in you?"
"Yes!" I screamed. "Yes!" It was building, my climax. The buzzing in my nerves grew stronger, the muscles in my thighs burned with anticipation. I leaned back to meet his crazy thrusts with my own crazy energy.
Then the door slammed against the wall and May screamed bloody murder. "You psychotic bitch!" she roared. She had every right to be angry. It was her man, it was her couch. It was my panties on the floor and his cum dripping from my chin. But why couldn't she have shown up one minute later?
I was cursed, that's why.