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From Behind
Jackson just picks you up and carries you into your bedroom. He tosses you face down on top of the bed, half on and half off, and casually holds you there with one hand placed in the middle of your back. His other hand is busy pulling your panties down and off, leaving you lying there naked.
Looking up you can see yourself in the mirror of the dressing table. There you are, stark naked, pinned to your bed. His hand lifts off your back and you can see what is coming before it happens. His hand comes down firmly on your bottom.
“Stay still,” he tells you.
You don’t see that you have much choice. He is bigger and stronger and probably faster than you. Even if you scramble over to the other side of the bed what good will it do? The door is behind him and he has closed it.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” you demand. Seriously, this has come completely out of the blue!
You are watching his face in the mirror and he rolls his eyes as if to say ‘give me a break.’ You are also able to watch the rest of him, and he is stripping off his shirt. You are able to make a fair guess at what he intends to do.
With his shirt off, Jackson starts undoing his trousers and very quickly slips them down. Your bed isn’t a particularly high bed. You suppose it comes up to about mid-thigh on him. That means you can see his naked body all the way down to mid-thigh, although your eyes can’t seem to get past groin level. He has an erection. From your point of view a huge erection.
He reaches for you and his hand closes over your mound. When he starts rubbing you there you feel you have to make some kind of protest.
“Jackson, you can’t do this. Just stop and think for a moment.”
He does stop, to your surprise. But then he says, “I think that you have a choice. You can shut up or you can get your bottom smacked. The decision is yours.”
“What sort of choice is that?” you demand and then you yelp as he promptly slaps your bottom.
“Were you saying something?” he asks, hand poises, and you keep your mouth shut, watching that hand rather nervously.
It comes down again, but not to smack. It is back on your mound, getting thoroughly acquainted with your private parts. You twist and squirm but it doesn’t help. Jackson’s hands are all over you, rubbing and probing. It isn’t long before he is parting your lips and sneaking his fingers inside you, testing your hidden depths. He seems amused by your reactions and the involuntary noises you make. And he can’t help but insult you.
“Hot little thing, aren’t you?” he says. “Let’s see if this helps cool things down.”
He takes his hands away and you immediately think, “Oh, no. He’s going to do it.” You watch him in the mirror, half horrified, half excited, dreading the thought of that big cock of his attacking you. But instead he is getting down onto his knees for some reason.
The reason becomes clear when Jackson’s mouth settles on your pussy. You nearly buck off the bed with shock but he has anticipated that and his hands are firmly attaches to your hips, holding you in position. Cool things down? He knows damn well that what he is doing isn’t going to cool anything down, especially you.
You’ve been heating up, reluctantly, from what he has been doing with his hands. Now he is bringing you to the boil and holding you there, tormenting you. His tongue goes everywhere his fingers have been and it is wet and slippery, seeming to be everywhere at once.
Having his fingers probing lightly around your clitoris had been bad enough. This is a hundred times worse. You scream and protest and are ignored, his tongue continuing to extract its toll, turning up the heat and driving you wild.
You are wet and wild and aroused and if Jackson were to suddenly stand up and jam his cock in you, you probably would not care. You may care later, but not at this moment. But he doesn’t do anything so unselfish. He just keeps playing with you, tongue darting here and there, like you’re a dessert he is trying to eat.
You twist and turn and lose control. Not that you ever had any control. You climax in his face and he keeps on touching and probing and caressing until you are done.
“Interesting,” he says, drawling the word out. “It appears that you’re not only hot but sensitive too.”
He pauses for a moment while you watch him in the mirror. He is looking down at you and smiling.
“Maybe we’d better leave it at that,” he says. “I’m not sure if you’re ready to go any further.”
You are too mad to even say anything. You just use laser eyes at him via the mirror, spluttering incomprehensibly. Okay, you are relieved that he isn’t going to rape you, but to bring you to this stage and then turn his back as though you’re not worth the effort? The unmitigated gall!
“Just kidding,” he says with a laugh. “I think you might be ready.”
With that he lifts you and tosses you further onto the bed, ordering you to crouch, doggie fashion. When you hesitate he sighs.
“It means on your hands and knees,” he says. “Head down, bum up.”
You know that. You only hesitate because you were taken by surprise. No other reason. You move into the required position, feeling the bed sink a little as Jackson climbs onto it behind you. You are staring at the mirror again, and you can see his cock bouncing about as he moves. You swallow nervously, wondering if he would stop if you asked him to. You’re not going to ask him to, you decide. He has no intention of stopping and you are damned if you are going to beg.
His hand is on you again, rubbing lightly, and you can feel he is moving your lips apart. His cock touches you and then pushes in a little. In the mirror you can see your eyes open wide with the slight shock of it. Then he pushes, not too hard, but firmly, starting on his triumphant march. You swear that if that had been someone else’s face in the mirror you’d have laughed at the expression on it. Seeing it is yours isn’t quite so funny.
Jackson keeps pushing. Not one grand thrust but a series of small nudges, each one taking him slightly deeper, each one causing another surprised look on your face. You stop looking in the mirror when he gives one last push and you can feel his groin slapping against you.
His hands moves from your hips where he has been holding you steady, and slap themselves over your breasts. His palms spreads over them, your erect nipples poking out between his fingers. He brings his fingers together, squeezing your nipples.
Seeming satisfied with his prizes he starts thumping you. You are already all worked up, not helped by that little climax you’ve had. Now his cock is busy resurrecting all those feelings you’d been suffering from just before your climax. His cock slides out along your passage as if oiled, then comes sliding back in fast, stoking your fires and building on your arousal.
In the mirror you can see your bottom bouncing up and down as he bangs into you, and it isn’t just the force of his thrusts that is doing the lifting. You are actively humping your hips, helping him, trying to get him to drive in even deeper with each thrust. You don’t ask yourself why you are helping him. It just feels right.
Jackson is riding you hard and you are responding, moving with him, your excitement blazing high and getting higher with every passing second. You are determinedly keeping your mouth closed so that you don’t start telling him how much you love what is happening, but that doesn’t stop excited squeaks and gasps from escaping, and those squeaks and gasps are coming faster the harder he goes.
At the end you can feel a difference in the way he is taking you. He is just about at the end of his run, you figure, which is fine by you as you think you are about to explode as well. That is your last coherent thought before your climax hits.
This climax makes your earlier one seem like nothing. Your pussy twitches around his cock, which in turn pulses with the gooey load he’s squirting into you.
When you finally get yourself under control you wipe the silly smirk off your face and glare at Jackson.
“Don’t say anything,” you say, holding up one hand in a stop sign. “I don’t want to discuss it. Please leave.”
He opens his mouth and starts to say something but you quickly interrupt.
“No. Don’t bother saying it. Just leave.”
You give him a real fish-eye of a look, face dead-blank, and he hesitates and then backs out of the room. The fucker better not try that again, or you’ll… or you’ll…
You’ll come up with a fitting penalty later.
The End
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