Page 25 of The Naughty Virgin

“Please … fuck me hard tonight,” I gasped right back, panting my need into his mouth, grinding myself against his big form.

And with a low growl, he tossed me onto the bed, my boobs bouncing, round ass jouncing as my hair flew.

“Clothes. Off,” the big man commanded, eyes gleaming as he tore off his t-shirt. I was mesmerized for a moment by those rock hard abs, the broad, defined chest, but he wouldn’t let up.

“I said, ‘Off,’” he repeated, this time whipping off his belt, folding it in a loop, making like he was going to beat my ass.

And it turned me on, oh god. Instead of making me scared, I trembled in anticipation instead.

“Oh yeah?” I breathed, eyes wide, “Make me,” I whispered.

And the big man was on me then. My skirt and my shirt were torn off in moments, rags falling to the floor, a button zinging off and skittering into a corner of the room. Oh god, this was happening. This was really happening.

Because Mr. Phillips showed no mercy. He flipped me over onto my stomach so that my ass was hanging off the edge of the bed and smacked me once, the smooth leather cracking against my creamy ass cheeks.

“Owwww!” I howled. “Owwww!”

It stung so good, hurt so bad that I felt sparks shoot from my pussy as my ass tingled, the creamy white skin deepening with a lash of red.

“Fuck you,” was all he said in return, and smacked me again, this time on the backs of my thighs.

“Ouch!” I screamed this time. “Please Mr. Phillips!”

“Please what?” he heaved, hand raised. “What do little girls say please for?”

“Please … please do it again!” I shrieked, my boobs heaving, the backs of my thighs tingling with white fire, numb with agony and ecstasy.

But Mr. Phillips wanted it a different way this time. He heaved me around so that I fell flat on my back on the big bed, a tiny pair of panties my only shield against his gaze. And without missing a beat, he smacked the flat of his hand against my pussy.

“Owww!” I squealed, squirming, my cunt overheating in a second, the gush of moisture between my thighs becoming a stream. “Owww!”

His eyes ate me up, hungry like an animal, dick poking out from his jeans so hard, so big that I thought it might pop through the stiff denim. But there was more in store.

“Take them off,” he hissed, blue eyes devouring my curvy form, I could feel the heat of them on my curves.

And this time I obeyed without question. Scrambling, I hitched the panties over my hips, pulling the damp lace off, baring everything to him. I even parted my thighs without asking, showing him my moist, gleaming folds, the way my clit poked through my labia, begging for his touch, stiff and nubby.

But he wanted more.

“Hold yourself open,” he ground out, his eyes fierce on my pussy, “because I’m gonna spank your clit.”

And I don’t know what made me come right then, either the anticipation of his hand on my sensitive nub or the fact that I was so turned on that I couldn’t control my body. But I spurted like a wild woman, my pussy arching, heaving, spasming uncontrollably as sprays of juice rained, showering my lower belly and thighs with droplets of fragrant liquid.

And the big man stared at me the entire time, witnessing the deep pussy spurts, my moist, glistening flesh as I came hard. Because I gave it all away then, my deepest secret. Without meaning to, I screamed as I came, my eyes locked with his, my legs parted as my pussy clenched.

“Stonnnne!” I moaned, our eye contact electric, my body thrashing with sensation. “I love you!”

And it only intensified the orgasm. I came again and again, my back almost arching off the bed, legs spread on the coverlet, boobs heaving.

And as the last spurt shot into the air, the clear pussy juice a fountain of nectar, the big man surprised me. He pushed his head between my legs, catching it in his mouth, drinking it before swallowing audibly, savoring the honey.

“Fuuuck,” was all he could manage, his face pressed into the sweetness between my thighs, tongue running up and down my folds. “Fuck me.”

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