Read Online The Gun Runner (Mafia Made) by Scott Hildreth - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Scott Hildreth
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over the bench with her back arched and her head buried in the corner of the small dressing room, she turned and peered over her shoulder. “What? My tight little pussy?”
My throbbing hard-on reminded me of the six days I had yet to wait. I waved my hand toward her and fought to adjust myself. “Get dressed, you little shit.”
“Did you call me a slut? I love it. I want to be your little slut. Fuck me in here. Get that big dick of yours out and fuck me.”
My tight jeans reminded me there was nowhere near enough room for my rapidly growing cock. While struggling with the mental urge to fuck her right there in the dressing room, I fought against the physical urge by painfully pressing my hands down against my overeager manhood.
“I said you little shit , not you little slut,” I snapped back in the form of a whisper.
“Oh,” she said innocently. “I still want to be your little slut.”
My eyes focused on her glistening mound. Perfectly shaped, and swollen from her desires, the lips were exposed and wet as if she’d been playing with herself prior to my entering the room. A few seconds later, and my mind, just like hers, was stuck.
I unzipped my pants and pulled my cock free of its restraints.
“Are you going to fuck me?” she whispered excitedly.
I stood with my cock in my hand, staring down at her irresistible pussy, and considered breaking one of the rules I had given myself when I became an adult. I decided the thirty-day rule would prevent me from becoming a man-whore, and would further force me to be certain of whether or not I wanted to have sex before having it.
With her long brown hair hanging down past her shoulders, she stared back at me over her shoulder, waiting patiently for me to decide what my next step was. Her high cheekbones and slender nose accentuated her eyes, which were normally a very deep brown in color. Now seeming as black as the dress that was bunched up around her waist, they were a perfect match for her evil desires.
I gripped my cock firm in my hand and guided it into her without so much as a warning. She lowered her head toward the bench and exhaled a muffled grunt as I pushed the first few inches of my length into her wetness.
“Are you going to fuck me? That’s what you asked me, right?” I gripped her waist in my hands and pulled her ass against my hips, forcing a little more of my swollen shaft into her. “Does that answer your question?”
Her breaths came in gulps. “Holy. Fuck.”
“Holy fuck is right, Terra.”
Her pussy was so tight I almost came on the in stroke. I clenched my teeth and gazed down at my shaft as I pulled it from her slippery confines.
I pushed myself back in, this time almost giving her all of it. “I like that tight little pussy of yours, Terra.”
A low rumble of a groan into the pile of clothes that were once neatly folded on the bench was her only response. I held myself deep inside of her and closed my eyes, trying to memorize the feeling of finally being with her in a sexual sense. A few seconds later I opened my eyes, satisfied I would never forget anything about what I was experiencing.
I gazed down at her shaking legs. “You ready?”
“I uhhm...I’m...” she stammered.
“I haven’t got time to wait for an answer, this place is closing in about ten minutes. I’m going to give you six strokes, that’s it. You count ‘em. Ready?”
She lifted her head, paused, and lowered it into the top of her purse. “Oh God.”
I gripped her waist firm. “Oh God’s right. Now, count ’em for me.”
I pushed myself into her fully.
“One.” The sound was muffled by the Louis Vuitton bag her face was buried in.
I pulled myself out and immediately pushed my entire length right back into her tight folds.
“Two,” she breathed.
A combination of having sex in the dressing room, her extremely tight pussy, and her muffled counting was almost too much. I felt my balls tighten. I arched my back and stared up at the ceiling,
My throbbing hard-on reminded me of the six days I had yet to wait. I waved my hand toward her and fought to adjust myself. “Get dressed, you little shit.”
“Did you call me a slut? I love it. I want to be your little slut. Fuck me in here. Get that big dick of yours out and fuck me.”
My tight jeans reminded me there was nowhere near enough room for my rapidly growing cock. While struggling with the mental urge to fuck her right there in the dressing room, I fought against the physical urge by painfully pressing my hands down against my overeager manhood.
“I said you little shit , not you little slut,” I snapped back in the form of a whisper.
“Oh,” she said innocently. “I still want to be your little slut.”
My eyes focused on her glistening mound. Perfectly shaped, and swollen from her desires, the lips were exposed and wet as if she’d been playing with herself prior to my entering the room. A few seconds later, and my mind, just like hers, was stuck.
I unzipped my pants and pulled my cock free of its restraints.
“Are you going to fuck me?” she whispered excitedly.
I stood with my cock in my hand, staring down at her irresistible pussy, and considered breaking one of the rules I had given myself when I became an adult. I decided the thirty-day rule would prevent me from becoming a man-whore, and would further force me to be certain of whether or not I wanted to have sex before having it.
With her long brown hair hanging down past her shoulders, she stared back at me over her shoulder, waiting patiently for me to decide what my next step was. Her high cheekbones and slender nose accentuated her eyes, which were normally a very deep brown in color. Now seeming as black as the dress that was bunched up around her waist, they were a perfect match for her evil desires.
I gripped my cock firm in my hand and guided it into her without so much as a warning. She lowered her head toward the bench and exhaled a muffled grunt as I pushed the first few inches of my length into her wetness.
“Are you going to fuck me? That’s what you asked me, right?” I gripped her waist in my hands and pulled her ass against my hips, forcing a little more of my swollen shaft into her. “Does that answer your question?”
Her breaths came in gulps. “Holy. Fuck.”
“Holy fuck is right, Terra.”
Her pussy was so tight I almost came on the in stroke. I clenched my teeth and gazed down at my shaft as I pulled it from her slippery confines.
I pushed myself back in, this time almost giving her all of it. “I like that tight little pussy of yours, Terra.”
A low rumble of a groan into the pile of clothes that were once neatly folded on the bench was her only response. I held myself deep inside of her and closed my eyes, trying to memorize the feeling of finally being with her in a sexual sense. A few seconds later I opened my eyes, satisfied I would never forget anything about what I was experiencing.
I gazed down at her shaking legs. “You ready?”
“I uhhm...I’m...” she stammered.
“I haven’t got time to wait for an answer, this place is closing in about ten minutes. I’m going to give you six strokes, that’s it. You count ‘em. Ready?”
She lifted her head, paused, and lowered it into the top of her purse. “Oh God.”
I gripped her waist firm. “Oh God’s right. Now, count ’em for me.”
I pushed myself into her fully.
“One.” The sound was muffled by the Louis Vuitton bag her face was buried in.
I pulled myself out and immediately pushed my entire length right back into her tight folds.
“Two,” she breathed.
A combination of having sex in the dressing room, her extremely tight pussy, and her muffled counting was almost too much. I felt my balls tighten. I arched my back and stared up at the ceiling,
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