1. The Guy Next Door - Part One


    Date: 9/17/2015, Categories: Reluctance, Author: SITTING, Rating: 3, Source: LushStories

    and his voice came through sharp and clear. “… gonna need a lot for that tight little ass of yours. Get on your knees .” I heard the soft thump as she complied. “ Take the fucking shirt off. ” I could practically hear her heavy breathing. I pressed my ear against the wall. “ You will be – careful, won’t you ?” Her voice was rushed, panicky. He didn’t reply. There was no sound for a while. For the first time in my life, my mind was imagining how it would feel to have someone slathering lube around my asshole, working it in, preparing me for the inevitable. How could something so dirty make my pussy heat so obscenely? “ Slowly, slowly .” Her voice was weak, begging “ I told you not to fucking speak. Just take it. ” She was gasping desperately, the sound drawing into a clenched moan and then a scream. “ Ohhhh my god !” “ Yeah? I’m only half-fucking-way .” “ Ohmygod, ohmygod… ” She chanted the words over and over as I heard her and Cooper work into a rhythm. I felt like I was right there. I could imagine her fingernails digging into the carpet, her tits swaying as she took him from behind. For the following very loud ten minutes, I wished countless times I was in her place. *** I dreamt about Cooper. It wasn’t really a dream. More of a fantasy as I lay half-asleep in bed. His large hands. Pain. I was in his apartment and it looked just like mine, only somehow I knew it was his. I thought of him punishing me for listening. It made my stomach churn to imagine what he might do. ...
    Maybe make me watch him and the brunette. I couldn’t believe I’d listened to him fucking her ass. It was so base but I wished I was her. I wanted him to take me, to use me, to own me. I wasn’t the kind of girl who swooned over bad guys. I was Kat Lovette, the quintessential good girl. I worked hard, always called my parents, never gossiped or lied. I liked good men. I liked romantic dates and flattering dresses. I liked being treated nicely. But some part of me was desperate to feel him against me; the palm of his hand slapping down on my ass. What would it feel like? How would it feel to be pushed and taken and spoken to like a whore? The mere thought made me wetter than I’d ever been. Why had he sent the girl over? Was he doing it on purpose? Was he making sure I knew about his escapades? What other reason could there be? What kind of self-respecting ass-fucking man wouldn’t be prepared with his own Vaseline? He wanted me to know. He wanted me to know . The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. But why? Was it like an ego thing? Was he showing off? What did he get out of it? Something. And it must have been something good because the next Saturday, there was a pause in proceedings and then my doorbell rang again. Another girl. “Hi. Sorry to disturb you,” she said. I’d never seen her before. She was dripping wet. Literally. Her long blonde hair was dark with water and the white dress she wore was soaked through. I could see everything it was meant to cover. She held the ...
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