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Sick Girl

by | bdsm, erotica | 1 comment

The whine was a little girl noise: a pouting, stubborn groan of frustration. I heard it when I opened the door and let the light from the hall break the spell of darkness in her room.

On the pink bed, the girl was covered in blankets, pillows, comforters, and stuffed animals. She sniffled somewhere under there, and in a voice that sounded much more adolescent than what a college student should sound like, she whined, “go away.”

I had to laugh. I left the door open a little, enough to see at least. I crept over to the bed, looking around at the bowl of half-eaten soup and cups of tea.

I took off my pants as she pulled the blanket down enough to watch me with furled eyebrows and pursed frowning lips. I took my shirt off next and placed it with my pants on the chair next to her bed.

It was actually somewhat cold in her room, college kids in cheap apartments with shitty heating. I shivered and took off my boxers and socks, then I slipped under the blanket with her.

“I’m sick. I called you to take care of me,” she whined.

I pulled the blanket back to see that she wore a very old pink shirt. It was the same shirt she had worn to bed back when we briefly lived together. She wore long striped pink and white socks that came up to her thighs.

“You texted me ‘come over’ and then sent me a picture of your tits,” I corrected.

She shrugged and looked away.

I slipped my arms around her thin waist. She relaxed into my chest. She was hot, feverishly hot. I pulled the covers over us and kissed her neck.

“You can’t kiss me. You’ll get sick,” she whispered, but she was already under my control. Kissing her neck was like putting on a collar for her. She was already moaning by the time I got to her ear.

Pulling up her shirt, I found miles of almost too hot skin. Her smooth back, the little curves of her love handles, the roundness of her small tummy. I stopped just below her breasts, my obsession. They were like that favorite part of dinner you saved to eat last.

“You’re supposed to take care of me, not fuck me.”

She tried to sound mad, but it wasn’t convincing when she gasped and moaned through the sentence.

“Nope. You are a big girl. You can take care of yourself. I’m just here to use you.”

She pressed her face to my neck, gasping at the thought. I pulled her face up, looking into her green eyes.

“I don’t want to be a big girl,” her lip quivered.

I kissed her cheek, then her forehead. Her hair smelled like shampoo. She showered just before I got there. She knew exactly what was going to happen when she sent me the message she sent me.

“Ok, you don’t have to be a big girl. You can be a little girl, and I can use you.”

My hand moved down, into the depth of the blankets. The heat radiating from between her legs was boiling, moist, molten.

“You’re mean,” she said, voice changing, that bratty little girl effect I’d come to know slipping in.

“You’re wet.” She shook her head and clamped her legs shut as I tried to slip my hungry fingers between them.

“You’re not supposed to touch down there,” she whined. The light stubble brushed my fingers and then her slick silk skin. The thick hardness of her clit, the chubby folds that made me wince with desire.

My fingers moved, but my mind remembered what it felt like to fuck her. The tip of my finger pressed past merely moist skin to the wetness of her. She grabbed at my arm and let out little wounded bird sounds, tiny begging chirps.

“You’re sick. I should stop.”

She mumbled, “please,” but I was pulling my hand away. She held onto it, trying to push it back, then when she couldn’t, she pulled my hand to her mouth and licked it clean, looking in my eyes.

I pushed her down, pinned her down, kissing her deeply. She tasted like toothpaste and cough syrup. Then I moved down, taking each eager nipple into my mouth, relishing them.

There was no other girl like this for me. For all her little girl charms and bright mind, it was her body I came back for. She was perfect, my ideal, my clumsy sweet little girl with the thin waist, but the little belly that stuck out, with the bubble of an ass that was designed for my hand and the cunt that was so tight, so never endingly wet, so ludicrously tasty.

I sank down between her legs, and she cooed and pulled at my hair. I traced up one lip and down the other. I let my breath wake up every molecule of skin. I slipped my tongue out just enough for her to push her pelvis forward, pushing the pink button on her clit against my mouth. Holding my hair as she lifted her ass and moved her body, so that little knot brushed against my tongue over and over.

I let her play, looking up at her closed eyes and bitten lip. I let it go on until she started climbing, the wall in need. I pulled away.

“So- close,” she whispered sadly.

I moved up and kissed her. She sucked my lips, hungry for her own taste, just like she always was. Then she twisted and turned and crawled out of my grip. She fumbled on the side of the bed, then came back with a condom package and pushed it into my hand.

Her hands moved to my waist, and she pulled me back on to her.

“We shouldn’t,” I whispered.

“We used to. You used to be my daddy. You weren’t supposed to. You were a bad daddy.” She purred this into my ear while she wrapped her legs around me, my cock just barely brushing the stubble on her sex.

“That was before. We were together, and we still shouldn’t have,” my voice cracked. I remembered the unmercifully wet and tight feel of her when my naked cock slipped in, inch by inch. I remembered her tightening as she came and how the pleasure of my own orgasm was so intense I would sometimes punch the wall or rip sheets.

“Remember I used to say, please daddy, you can just put it in for a minute. I won’t tell, I promise. Just for a minute, just to see how it feels. Please, daddy, just for a little tiny minute.”

I slapped her before I knew what I was doing. Her eyes glazed, and a slow smile arose over her red mouth. The games we were playing were old games.

I disengaged, slipped from the tangle of her legs and claws and dangers. Stood unsteady on her floor, with its dirty socks and pink panties. She pulled off her shirt. This wasn’t going to end well. The game was on; who could tease who into breaking the rules.

She kneeled, leaning back with her legs half open and her face drawn down, and her eyes flashing at me.

“I bet I can make you,” she said, not sounding like a little girl at all.

“You’re not supposed to call me that anymore,” the spell was a little broken, but not all the way. I was just worried.

She let out a loud huff and pounced on her bed.

“No fun! Why do you have to be so boring!” she said into her pillow, beating on it and kicking her legs.

“You know it’s not a good idea,” I started, my voice turning serious.

She sighed and laughed. “I knew you wouldn’t do it. I knew you would come over, and then you would get all depressed and dumb instead of just fucking me like I want.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. She deflated. She laid back down and sighed. “Just fucking hold me then.”

We were spoons again. My face in her hair and my lips on her neck, and she pulled my arms around her, holding my hands. Then she moved my hand on top of her breasts, and suddenly my cock was hard and nestled right between her thighs, rubbing.

“Tell me no,” I whispered into her ear.

She whined and tried to turn to look at me. I rubbed and rubbed, the head just missing her wetness, which threatened to pull me into her.

“Say it.”

She whimpered and tried to pull away.

“Don’t,” the word was just a breath, but her hands came behind her, and she pushed at me.

I pulled back, I opened the packet, pulled the condom over my cock. The familiarity of it all was strange. I slipped back behind her, and she tried to squirm away. I slipped between her thighs. My cock found the source of her heat, and I pushed in a millimeter. Half her body fought to get away, and half pushed back against me.

“No, no, no,” she said, pushing back at me until I grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back. Her other hand was pinned under her.

I slipped further in, and she shook her head furiously.

“No! It’s bad, stop, please! You’re not supposed to!” She was crying a little, her face hot and red, her nose running from the cold, and her tears.

I pushed hard into her, wanting friction, but she was so wet it was like rubbing oiled hands together. I put my leg over hers, pushing her thighs together tighter. I fucked her like that, growling into her neck as I held her arm and kept my hand in her hair.

I fucked her harder, and she forgot to fight. She pushed her ass back at me with every thrust. She moved, so her hips were at the perfect angle.

“Tell me you want me to come inside of you.” My voice didn’t even sound like me, it was hoarse and dark.

She shook her head and squeaked out a “no.”

“You fucking say it right now!” and I smacked her ass hard, then her hip, then her breasts. I slapped her breasts as I fucked her, and she screamed and cried.

“Do it!” she said in frustration and desire and submission.

“Say it right.” I fucked her, and she turned her head and looked me in the eyes.

“Come in my pussy. Come in me. Shoot your come in me,” eyes bold and rebellious.

I grabbed her by the throat. “Say please,” I stared right back.

She was scared of my hand on her throat; she tried to turn, but I held her there.

“P-please. Please come in me. Please please come in me. Use me like a dirty little slut. Please-” the next word hung in the air, the most forbidden.

“Please what?” I slowed, not wanting to come but feeling it charging me.

“Please- come inside my little cunt,” she said and smiled a little.

I slapped her in the face. It was hard from the angle, but I got her firm on the cheek. I slapped her once more, and she lost it. She came hard, the way I remembered. I felt her tighten so hard she pushed my cock out of her. I pushed it back in and fucked her harder.

“I’m not supposed to say it anymore, you said.” She laughed her bratty little laugh. I slapped her harder across the face, and her eyes rolled back.

I turned her around, laying her on her belly, legs together tightly. I pushed her down on the bed, pulling her arms behind her back. I slipped my cock between the softness of her ass and found her cunt again. I fucked her hardest this way. It was impossibly tight.

She howled and pushed her ass back.

“You want me to call you daddy, like before?” she sobbed, tears and bratty laugh and moans almost choking her.

“Yes.” It was a long hiss from my lips.

“Fine. Fuck me, daddy. Please daddy. Daddy is fucking me. Daddy, daddy, daddy,” she said low, like a mantra with every thrust.

Then suddenly as I sped up, her tone changed. It wasn’t a joke. “Daddy, wait, don’t come in my pussy, please. Don’t daddy, it’s bad, you promised you wouldn’t. Please don’t, daddy don’t,” she got louder and louder until she was begging.

The orgasm was like lightning. I came so hard I yelled nonsense. I grabbed a pillow and threw it across the room, punched the mattress hard just to stop myself from screaming. I came with every molecule of my body.

When it was over, I found myself on my back, unsure of how I got there. She was cuddled next to me, smiling like she’d won.

I fell asleep with her. The next day I had a fucking cold.

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1 Comment

  1. E

    I love the pieces that bring in the complicated emotions and mix it with the hot stuff so you’re turned on and a little sad and don’t know quite what to do.


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