Page 23 of Deranged Imposter

She puts herself in dangerous but avoidable situations. Her new roommate could’ve been a cunning asshole, that postgrad has access to toxic substances, and her group members could scheme unthinkable acts on her.

The sole reason I let her go to Arkansas was for the mandatory passing grade. I made her call me day and night, no less than five texts throughout the day, and explain what progress they had accomplished.

Three more weeks until final exams dawn on us, then comes her graduation. There isn't a better reward than to devour her sweetness and give everything to her until her little heart sings with contentment.

I have to recalibrate.

The man in the mirror isn’t me; he comes and goes like a ghost, lips always with a taunting smile as his eyes sketch distortions, framing depravity as innocence.

I lean my slumped weight on the sink as I pinch my eyes shut and surround myself with the scent of peppermint toothpaste.

“She needs to breathe,” I murmur while swiping my hair from my face. “But she won’t know. She trusts me.”

Exactly, something nefarious agrees.

I look in the mirror again. The split image ofmeis gone, leaving the shell of Mikah amid the suffocating shower fog. Air expels from my lungs, hoarding reckless shivers in my arms as they tremble from my weight.

Roughly scrubbing the towel on my face and wiping the lingering torment from my eyes, I steady the shaking in my hands and the heavy ruckus in my heart. I throw the towel into the basket and spot the lacy garment in the basket next to it.

I can’t believe I’m doing this now, all while I’m bringing the silky panties to my nose and inhaling with the perversion of a sin. She wore these today; I would know because she forgot her pants and fell face-first onto the ground when she scurried out of the bathroom.

Supporting a heavy cock behind my boxer-briefs early in the morning, then seeing her ass in the air with a wet spot on her pink panties, was a horror movie scene. I couldn’t run fast enough into the bathroom. A longer look would’ve resulted in a disastrous attempt to rut against her pussy until her panties were soaked, the fabric clinging to the shape of her sensitive folds and the small swell of her clit.

I didn’t cum during the bubble bath incident. I couldn’t pull my cock out when she was sleeping next to me as she struggled to get into REM sleep over some in-class peer persuasion assignment.

I need to cum, or I’ll go insane.

My cock weighs heavy in my hand, cum leaking from the tip to the ground as I fist it roughly. The coil in my stomach hurts, so relief inches closer faster than before.

It’s her fault.

She shouldn’t have been so careless to flash her pink-clad pussy and expect me to pretend I’m an awarded saint.

With one big inhale, drowning her heady scent in my quivering lungs, I bring the silk panties around my dripping cock. I want her smaller and softer hands to hold me while whining about how my fat cock can’t fit in her tiny mouth.

I’d force her to try harder, urging her to swallow me down her tight throat. Her pretty tongue is a sly thing, darting to wet her lips after eating an éclair, then innocently parting her mouth to whine about the cream being stuck on her tongue.

I should’ve pressed my fingers down her throat and watched her eyes tear up from my cruelty.

My vision swims, guttural groans loitering in the back of my throat with my vivid imagination. The lace edges scratch heated skin, rubbing fervidly on the pulsing vein as I fuck her panties like the silk is a cheap alternative to her spongy walls.

I need to feel something of hers to put me on the edge. My hands aren’t enough anymore, and I’m starting to hate this pair of panties.

The ones she’s wearing now are fresher, warmer, and wetter.

Pumping away with boundless greed, I lean back on the bathroom counter to raise my shuddering hips. Excessive cum drools on the underwear, helping the motion smoother to kick another harsh groan.

I imagine taking her virginity two ways.

Gentle and slow, feeding her tiny hole the tip and rutting until she begs me to stretch her pussy. Her quivering walls will feel like the clouds of heaven, and I’ll flood her cunt with virile cum. But no worries, I have more to spill. She’ll make a messy, creamy ring of cum at the base of my cock.

Or I could go fast. I flip her on her knees, plump ass in the same position that got me fucking into her dirty underwear, then I’ll spread her cheeks to burn my gaze on her unused pink pussy just so I could see her essence run down her thighs. I’d force her drenched walls to swallow my cock and laugh at the insistent fluttering of her walls as it shapes my cock.

Either way is fine, but I want to see thick cum cling to her folds and gush down on the bed.

The tight coil in my stomach stops. Colors of distorted fantasies devour the black dots, and my thighs tremble as white ribbons splash into the air. Breathless pants seize the pounding below my ears, the room returning slowly, and I squeeze my throbbing cock as an anchor.

I shiver from sensitivity while slipping my cock back into my pants. Lifting the drenched panties, I hum with a satisfying rumble before flinging them into the original basket. I quickly clean the viscous mess on the floor with tissue and wash my hands, but that won’t cleanse the sin of my act.

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