Over the Couch Read online

  Another gag and I'm down all the way, drooling at his balls. Mr. Kent continues to hold me until my nose is nuzzled into his pubic hair. I can't believe I'd managed to deep throat the entire thing.

  Becoming choked of air, I hit against his thigh with an open palm, trying to signal him to let me up. But still he continues to hold me down as I gag wildly and swivel my head around his whole cock.

  Tears are rolling down my cheeks and mixing with thick globs of dark mascara. Another gush of saliva coats Mr. Kent's balls as I push myself up against his force with both hands on his thighs.

  Finally, he releases me and I gasp for air as his entire cock slides out from the suction of my lips.

  "Well then, let's take a look at that little virgin pussy shall we?" I yelp as he lifts me by the shoulders and twists me around so my ass is up in the air close to his face.

  I feel the tip of Mr. Kent's nose graze between my folds as he sniffs. The scent of my wet teenage cunt must be making him wild.

  He inserts two finger tips at the entrance of my wet hole. A thin string of my juices connects us as he pulls them back for a taste.

  "Mmm...” he moans, "Tastes sweet." After a momentary pause, I feel a stinging pain on one cheek and squeal. The sound of his hard slap on my ass echoes in the the living room. Mr. Kent pinches the cheek skin and jostles it around before coming down hard with his palm for another slap.

  "Ungh!” I squeal louder this time.

  "So this is what you want?" Mr. Kent hits the other cheek with a back hand swing. The pain of his blow shoots through my spine and my back arches as I scream.

  "You want me to fuck you like a little whore and get you pregnant?" Another hand lands hard on both sides of my tender cheeks. My hips writhe in pleasure as I let out a deep moan. The skin that was pale white is now raw and crimson.

  The pain of it all has got me so wet that some juices are running down between the gap of my thighs.

  "Well?” Again and again, Mr. Kent spanks my naughty virgin ass.

  “Yes...” I manage a soft whimper.

  "What was that?" He grabs me by the hair and yanks my head back, getting his ear close my mouth. "I can't hear you." He whispers.

  "Yes!" I scream. "I want it!"

  "You want what?" He whispers again.

  "I want you to cum in my tight pussy... please!"

  I hear the thud of Mr. Kent's belt buckle hitting the floor. He grips me on both sides of the waist and pulls me against his member. The shaft slips between my cheeks and slides smoothly down the lubricated crack.

  He rubs the head around on my clit and the sensation causes my knees to buckle. My torso goes limp at the waist but Mr. Kent keeps my ass held up to his crotch.

  The tip of him presses into my entrance just slightly, then travels back down to stimulate my clit some more. A drip of thick precum dribbles out from him and oozes down to my thighs. The sweat sheen of my bare back glistens in the light of the static white television screen.

  And then, almost without warning, Mr. Kent enters me. My tight vaginal walls squeeze the girth of him as he pushes in deeper. The sensation is enough to blur my vision. I whimper, biting my bottom lip while trying to contain the scream that was building in my throat.

  "Oh, god!” I yell. He pushes deeper and deeper, and I'm surprised at how am I able to take him whole inside me. Mr. Kent's cock bottoms out and my hips jolt. It hurt a little bit, but the pain is masked by the overwhelming pleasure of his cock filling every inch of me.

  He pushes against my ass to slide back out until the tip is just barely inside me. Then his pelvis thrusts forward quick and rough, and I gasp. Mr. Kent pounds my pussy like this again and again, going balls deep with every thrust. My hips buck involuntarily each time he slams against my cervix.

  The familiar tingling that is building in my core is nothing like when I pleasure myself with a dildo. This feeling is much more intense, and it’s rising like a fire in the very depths of me.

  My ass twitches as a drop of sweat from Mr. Kent's forehead falls to the small of my back while he grunts like an animal, drilling me from behind.

  "Do it!" I yell, clenching my walls tight to coax his head into squirting. "Cum inside me!" With another loud grunt and a final thrust, he impales me with the whole of his cock. The inside of me suddenly feels dripping wet, and my entire body spasms as I am overcome by waves of euphoria.

  Mr. Kent struggles to hold himself up by my ass as he shakes violently against me. We moan together, long and hard. The head of his cock pulsates again and again, spraying his entire load deep inside of me.

  There is enough of it that I can feel his cum dribbling out of me, oozing between my thighs and down his ball sac.

  My mind goes blank, and we collapse onto the couch together. His cock shoots the last of his seed into me and my pussy quivers with delight. I glide along his shaft some more, savoring the sensation of my first real orgasm as his cock continues to throb and cum inside of me. Mr. Kent has made me a mother.

  As we lie there, I match my breathing with his. I wonder if Mr. Kent will be there to help me raise my own little Charlie.

  "Now get up," he snaps, "And get your clothes back on for god's sake." There is a tone of regret in his voice.

  "D--Do you think that we'll be together now?" I ask timidly.

  "Look, I just need you out of my house. Right now."

  I scramble to get my clothes back on while he's rifling through the pocket of his jeans.

  "Here, I still want to pay you for your time." Mr. Kent hands me triple what I normally get for one night of watching Charlie.

  "But that's too--"

  "Take it, and get out!" He yells.

  Sobbing and confused, I take the money. Then I'm out the door without even taking the time to get my bra on underneath my tank top. I don't know why he was acting this way, but it didn't matter now. Mr.

  Kent had paid me and kicked me out like a little whore, but I got what I needed from him. More of his thick spunk drips out of my soggy pussy and soaks the inside of my panties.

  Mrs. Kent's car pulls into the driveway as I'm walking away from the house, but she doesn't see me. I can't help but giggle at the sight of her. She doesn't have a clue that her husband just impregnated the babysitter.

  Fully Stuffed

  I don’t even want to be a sorority girl. I could never imagine myself as one of those prissy bitches, strutting around campus with a designer bag paid for by Daddy’s trust fund.

  I’ve got too many curves, for one thing. It’s not like I’d ever fit into any of those high fashion brands for super skinny chicks. Hell, I can’t even remember the last time I liked what I was wearing.

  And they’re always so damn perky. That fake kind of nice, where they pretend to like you then talk all kinds of crap about you behind your back.

  They can go and on about the most mundane shit, totally content with endless conversation about the most recent gossip. It’s nauseating. I never cared about any of that. I’m way too focused on my studies right now to waste my time with that stuff.

  But here I am, on my way to interview with Triple Pi. You could say I’ve lost all sense of self-respect—except, I’m not doing it for me.

  The truth is I’m doing it because of Brent—because he asked me to.

  But then, I’d have my legs spread eagle faster than he could say, “Can I fuck you?” if he ever did. Not that he would, I’m just saying.

  And that’s because Brent is the man I want to marry one day. I mean, we only just met, but I really hope we do.

  He’s actually the first and only guy who has talked to me since I moved into the dorms last week. I wish it were because he wanted to, but really it’s just that he had to. Brent is the dorm supervisor, so he was the one to show me around when I first got there.

  And when I first saw him, it was an instant crush. Like getting hit with a sledgehammer. I couldn’t even form words when he introduced himself. Like I forgot how to speak English all of a sudden.


  He extended his hand and his gaze held me in a state of suspension. I couldn’t believe those eyes; dark hazel swimming around pupils that bore through to my soul.

  “I’m Brent,” he said.

  “I’m—hello, you—I mean, I’m Brent—no, I am Kat.”

  “Hi Kat,” he said with a genuine smile, showing his perfect teeth. It sure looked genuine, anyway.

  His presence was dominating. Standing there in the tiny dorm hallway, he could have been a giant. His massive bicep flexed ever so slightly at the extension of his arm, leading up to broad shoulders so wide he barely fit between the narrow walls. His white V-neck shirt was tight against the muscle mounds of his torso. I’d never felt so much wetness between my legs.

  My thoughts were lost in a fog. Basic motor functions were foreign to me.

  He held his hand there for a long time, then looked puzzled as to why I hadn’t shaken it yet. He shrugged and retreated the hand to brush back a thread of black hair. It was s smooth, fluid motion that escaped the awkwardness of the moment. Unlike me.

  “How do you like your room?” He said. My room? It was a total mess of unpacked boxes and still is. There’s no hot water and it’s smaller than an office cubicle. A complete shitwreck.

  “I—I really like it,” I said, still staring at him. I must have looked like a complete psycho. I hadn’t even showered or brushed my hair that morning. Of course, I wasn’t exactly expecting I’d meet the man of my dreams.

  “Really? A lot of people get pissed about getting stuck in the West building.”

  “Do—do they?”

  “Yeah, it’s in serious need of a renovation. Place it totally falling apart.”

  “Oh I guess it is—does,” I say, followed by an awkward giggle. My weight shifts to one leg. I couldn’t believe how flustered I was in front of Brent. It’s like I was suddenly back in high school, giddy and crushing hard on a guy I just met.

  “So, have you looked over the dorm rules yet?” About twenty times already. They’re plastered on pretty much every surface area of the entire building.

  “Just once or twice—a couple times—I think.”

  “Good,” he flashes another cool smile, his eyes glinting in the dim light, “just remember no visitors after nine. Come on, let me show you around.”

  And so the rest of the tour continued in this fashion; me staring at him like a lunatic, blubbering incoherently each time I spoke. I found myself mesmerized by every word, every syllable from his mouth about dorm policy and how the toilets tend to clog.

  Actually, I wasn’t paying much attention to what he was saying.

  And so it hit me like a ton of bricks when he asked me, “Are you doing anything tonight?”

  I think my throat hit the floor when he said it.

  Was he asking me out? Like, on a date? My cheeks went flush—I forgot how to breathe.

  “Because I’m supposed to tell girls in the West building about joining Triple Pi.” Oh, I guess not. I exhaled a long disappointed sigh and he sort of looked at me funny, then continued. “They like to meet freshmen to find out if they’d be a good fit for their sorority.”

  I can’t believe I even let myself think for a moment that he was interested in me. I felt like such an idiot.

  But then my eyes lit up at what he said next.

  “I’ll be there.”

  I think my head would have fallen off if I nodded any faster. I made an affirmative squeak that sounded like my lungs had given out. My face was glowing neon red by that point.

  “Okay then. Tonight at eight.” His arm came out halfway for a handshake then paused. He studied me for a brief second, then brought the hand back to his side. “Well… see you then.”

  Then he turned opposite from me and went on down the hallway. I just stood there, frozen in place for a good minute or two. My knees were all jittery and barely supported my weight. The heat between my legs was slick with desire for Brent. My pussy throbbed and ached with a new kind of passion.

  I don’t know what the heck a male would be doing at sorority house, but I sure as hell know that I don’t care. All that matters is that Brent is going to be there.

  ******

  I crane my neck to read the Greek letters above the big white sorority house, whispering them aloud. “Triple Pi.” It sounds exactly like the kind of club I swore I’d never belong to when I went to college.

  But none of that matters now, because Brent is inside.

  I gather my courage and step along the narrow brick pathway lined on either side with purple poppies. It’s obvious they had the money to pay for a professional landscaper.

  My black heels click on the brick tiles leading up to the steps of the porch, and I can’t help feeling self-conscious.

  I had on my favorite white blouse and a black skirt that I thought made my ass look pretty hot. Thankfully my hair was cooperative after about an hour of curling and primping, and fell elegantly over my shoulders. I was feeling pretty confident in front of the mirror before I left, but my self-esteem has completely betrayed me at this point.

  The truth is I really don’t care so much about making an impression on the sorority girls as I do Brent.

  As I approach the double doors of the house, one of the ornate brass handles turns on its own.

  The door cracks open and a petite head comes out of it. She’s got pigtails tied with red and white polka dot ribbons and thick-framed glasses. A lot more bookish than I was expecting. Certainly not the fashionista I thought would greet me.

  “Oh—it’s you,” she says, looking me up and down. Her eyes are dismissive, her expression standoffish. She glares at my blouse like I’ve committed some sort of fashion sin. “Come on, Madeline is waiting for you.” Her attention remains fixed on my cleavage as her head retreats back through the crack. I don’t think she looked at my face even once. What a bitch.

  She leaves the door cracked so I have to open it the rest of the way to enter.

  Immediately I’m hit with a waft of heavy perfume. The air is dense with an intoxicating mix of floral scents worse than my grandmother’s retirement home. It’s enough to make my eyes water.

  As I step inside, trying my best not to gag, I notice the boisterous sounds I heard from outside falling silent.

  The ten or so girls in the common room have all stopped, frozen in time, halting in whatever activity they were doing just to judge me with superficial eyes. They’ve all got that same snooty demeanor as the first chick.

  Two of them sitting on a velvet couch in the corner snicker under their breath, exchanging glances as I walk by. Heads turn as I cross the plush red carpet, following the pig-tailed bitch to a set of spiraling stairs.

  Their whispered conversations pick up again as we ascend to the second floor. She leads me down a hallway to a lime green door with a gold frame. “Madeline is waiting for you,” she says, repeating it in the same snarky monotone as before.

  Fuck this place. I don’t know why I am even here.

  Oh yeah—Brent.

  And when I open the door, there he is, like salvation for my battered self-esteem. He’s standing up straight, hands clasped behind his back like he had just been standing there, patiently waiting. There’s another guy, same height and build as Brent, standing the exact same way. It’s almost eerie.

  Only, they aren’t alone. A girl I can only assume to be Madeline is reclining on a bed next to him. She’s got on pink fluffy dress, kind of like a six-year-old would wear for a tea party with stuffed animals, and there’s a plethora of those neatly arranged at the head of the king size bed.

  In fact, it looks just like a kid’s room. The walls are painted hot pink, plastered all over with rainbow stickers, happy cartoon clouds and the like.

  What the hell is this?

  Madeline is twirling a finger around a silk blond strand, smirking at me as the door closes behind.

  “Hi, I’m—“

  “Kat, I know. Brent here has told me all about you.” All about me? The guy hardly
knows me.

  She throws her legs over the edge of the bed and sits upright. “Let’s do away with silly formalities and just get started, mmkay?” She cocks her head at that last part in a way that really irks me. The high pitch and condescending tone makes me want to cringe.

  “Hey Brent,” I say, giving him a little wave. But he doesn’t so much as blink. I may as well be invisible.

  “Come now, don’t be so rude,” Madeline says, “tell her hello.”

  “Hello,” he says. Why is Brent acting so strange?