Ron Taylor - Do me, Daddy!

Oh, I thought, I think he's going to rape me!

"On your knees, bitch!" he snapped. "I want you to suck my cock!"

There was no question about me doing it. His strong arms bent me to the floor and I knelt in fear. My fingers touched the bulging front of his pants, fondling the big hard tool that lurked inside, and I traced its outline with my lips.

"NO!" he barked. "I said suck my cock, and that's what I meant!"

He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled till my eyes stung with salty wetness. I unzipped him quickly, anything to stop that wrenching pain.

It was a struggle to free his cock of his shorts and get it through the undone fly, but when I did at last, the effort seemed worthwhile. His big red tool stuck out enormously through his unzipped pants, and there was a tiny drop of wetness gleaming on the huge knob. I touched it playfully with my tongue, licking away the tasteless driplet of his pre-cum, and I began to kiss and tongue him up and down the shaft. Again a savage pull on my hair, and my mouth opened in an O of hurt.

Roy punctuated that O with a fierce thrust of his cock, a driving, impaling stab that filled me with his prick and almost strangled me. I gagged as he shoved too hard at the back of my throat and for a sick moment I was positive I'd puke my guts all over him.

"Suck it, bitch!" he growled, and before I had time to begin sucking, Roy started to ram his dick in and out of me.

It hurt, believe me, it hurt. He seemed to have no concern for me, as a person, as a sex partner. All that mattered was ramming my mouth with his cock. And when his knob banged into my throat, forcing me to swallow it whether I wanted or not, I felt as if I were nothing more than a big wet fist for him to masturbate in.

His hands held my skull in place and there was nothing for me to do but limber my throat and let him fuck my face. Jesus, this wasn't the way I'd hoped it would be! Why couldn't we just hop into bed and screw delightfully till we both exploded in big shuddering comes of joy? Why did he have to treat me like a street-corner whore?

It was his stupid, archaic sense of morality. Just because he was married to my mom, I was off limits. A big No Trespassing sign hung from my tits and another guarded the entryway to my snatch.

So what? I didn't care. I was willing to be lovey with him, and I really didn't need any commitments. He could have Mom full-time, whenever, wherever he wanted, but I craved him, too. Why couldn't he see that? Any other man would have thought he was in paradise if he took over a house with two women like me and Mom. Any other man would have bent over backwards to keep both of us happy, and himself, too, in the bargain. Mom was prime-quality pussy, and I was a choice piece of teen-age – tall, ready to go and hot to trot. Why couldn't he understand that simple biological fact? Why did he have to stand there now, raping me in the mouth instead of making love to me?

I hated him. If I'd dared, I'd have bitten his cock and left a memorable scar. But I didn't dare. He was in a savage, violent mood. What would he do to me if I resisted him?

And after all, I had been scheming and plotting to get at him. I should have been in seventh heaven now that I had him. But my jaws ached from the strain of sucking his cock and I was so busy working my throat that I didn't have time to be happy. His fuck-action gathered speed like a train coming down a mountainside, and I could only hope that he wouldn't be much longer at his sport.

His fingers dug into my skull with almost enough force to crush the bones, and I saw black, as if I were going to faint on the spot. My knees were stiff from being bent and pressed on the floor, and my feet ached, too. But nothing in my body had ever been as sore as my mouth was from the brutal lunges of his cock.

I couldn't repress my moans of discomfort and pain as Roy kept screwing my mouth. The soft whines must have vibrated sexily along the barrel of his plunging prick, because I felt its tempo increase even more noticeably when I whimpered my muted protests. He was excited now, and I could only endure it.

"Come on, you little bitch!" he panted breathlessly. "You wanted to suck it -now suck it!"

And the ramming jabs he gave me left no other alternative. I had to suck his cock or be murdered by it, and I didn't want to be murdered.

Candidly, though, it wasn't so bad. All girls have secret fantasies about being raped, even girls my age. There's a certain unspeakable thrill in the thought of being totally at the mercy of some strong, big man with a strong, big cock, to know that he has the power and the inclination to take you as he pleases, that your sexuality has turned him into a ravening, horny beast totally beyond your control.

As I kept receiving his thrusts, I started to call up those old fantasies and images, and I found myself beginning to get warm and wet all over. The sweat oozed through my pores, my underarms were sopping, and as I swayed where I knelt, I could feel a moist tingling in the pit of my crotch. I swayed some more, to intensify that tingly feeling, and my hands clutched at Roy's ass. If only he'd dropped his pants, I thought, this might be really neat, but he'd only unzipped and forced me to tug out his cock, so each time he jammed all of his prick in my mouth, the tab of his fly scraped my chin, and I didn't like that.

Arousal built in me. I was getting hotter and hotter, and I didn't hate Roy any more. Not consciously. Instead I became obsessed with the need to give him the best head he'd ever gotten. I wanted Roy to remember this experience forever and to know that even at his most brutal and callous I loved and wanted him.

My hands tightened on his ass and I began to twist my head in a wobble as he stuffed it with fresh fuck-strokes. My lips experimented with snug and loose holds, and I tried to get my tongue into action, though by now he was fucking so fast and hard my tongue was pretty useless. Still I managed to swipe his rod provocatively with it as he continued to ram in and out, and I felt his ass muscles throb and ripple as he realized what I was doing.

"Goddamn you, Jenni!" he moaned gruffly, relaxing some of the finger pressure on my temples. He was still fucking my throat, but, imperceptibly at first and then quite noticeably, his strokes became gentler, more lingering. Now he wasn't bruising my gullet with his knob. It was an easier kind of pumping, one that let me respond with loving tongue caresses, with clever sucking swallows.

He weakened. As the slurps and smacks of my mouth became louder and more prolonged, I heard Roy make a choked sound and I knew it signified his surrender. Atta girl, Jenni, I told myself with egotistical pride. One minute I'd been a raped, ravaged sex victim, and the very next I was back in my normal role of teen-aged man-eater, eating my favorite man.

I began to hum as I sucked his prick. The throbbing flutters vibrated along his shaft and it excited him. He gave me more peter, and faster, but not with the cruel energy of before. It filled me beautifully and I sucked his cock fiercely when it was buried, damning the scrape of his zipper on my face, and then he'd pull back so that I was sucking but the tip of his rod. And, of course, in again to fill me up once more.

It couldn't last. He'd worked himself to fever pitch when he was in control of things, and after I took charge, the absolutely sinful mouth-action I dished out was like a determined bee worrying his honey sack. My lower lip felt the tell-tale swelling of his cum-duct and I knew it was time to open up for a big drink of jizz.

He came like a broken water main, drenching me with more sperm than anyone else had ever given me anywhere. It filled my mouth and dripped from my lips and, even though I tried to scoop the overflow back inside, there was so much I couldn't hope to drink up half of Roy's cock-cream. I didn't care. I swallowed what I could and let the rest ooze and drip. I wanted him to see me that way, with his cum hanging in strings from my mouth and my pink tongue coated white with his load. Maybe it would teach him a lesson.