Blackmail: Talk dirty to T.

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Revision as of 05:11, 13 September 2012 by Alberich (Talk | contribs)
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Being a young teenage girl is tough!

Well, well. Even now you're half in charge of the situation. This pervert loser is letting you dictate terms, and in a few days you'll be out of his power. You turn around with a defiant little flirt in the hips. Let the loser ogle your butt all he wants! He isn't getting close enough to sniff it, let alone do more. You hear his zipper open behind you. Well, might as well get it over with...</br>

"Ooooh, T," you begin. "I want you to fuck me, T. I wanna feel that big fuckin' cock slide right into my pussy. Fuck my pussy, T. Fuck my pussy hard. Grab my tits and fuck my pussy. I want your cum, T. I want you to fill me up with cum. I wanna get some of your cum on my fingers and lick it off..."</br>

You go on a little while, finding the fuck words easy to say, and the fantasy...alluring. And then all of a sudden you feel a warm splash on the exposed small of your back. That sicko! He spurted right on you! You turn around and jab a finger in his face. He ought to be looking ashamed. He sure looks ridiculous, standing there, his narrow, seven-inch cock in his right hand, already drooping from exhaustion, his boy-goo all over his hands, pants, and skin...

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" you demand. But once again he has an answer where he's supposed to just have embarrassment...

"Mostly creaming on your jeans," he says. "But I'm also doing some recording." He taps his shirt pocket with his un-gooey left hand. With a sinking feeling you realize the bulge there could be a digital recorder. "That's it for today - see you tomorrow!" As you stand in shock, he mockingly waves goodbye. In doing so, he shakes his right hand at you, spattering your pretty red blouse with more of his pungent white juice. Ewwww!

And then a horrifying thought hits you. If he's just gushed that stuff on your jeans as well as your shirt...you're not old enough to drive. You'll have to walk home. And if someone should see you and know those stains for what they are...!

There's no question of going back in the mall to clean up in the bathroom. Too many people you know hang out in there. No, you've got to make it home. But how?




Requirements: This is a story about a young girl written in second person.

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