“Such a tight asshole,” Jason grunted as he began really pounding her. No gradual buildup, just an immediate rough ass reaming.
Fuck, it was hot.
“Your fat cock is tearing me apart,” the slut moaned loudly between her whimpers of pleasure.
And for a few minutes there was hard fucking… in a few different positions… but very little talking. Well, that’s not quite true. There was a little name calling and a lot of begging.
It was obvious he was close when a Code Blue announcement sounded. The patient in room 316 was in cardiac arrest .
Fuck!
I shut off my phone and rushed to the room where the crisis was underway… needing to ignore my burning pussy.
Two hours and one saved life later, I checked my phone and wasn’t surprised to see my house was pitch black.
When my shift was over, I drove home and tired yet horny, I discovered myself walking next door to Abby’s, knowing she’d be alone since her husband left early for his commute downtown and they didn’t have any children.
I didn’t even know what I was going to say, although I did know I had a solution to my long, self-imposed sexual abstinence.
I knocked and hammered… waiting almost five minutes for the bitch to come to the door.
Although perhaps calling her a bitch at this point wasn’t quite fair: I was about to become her bitch from Hell!
“What the fuck?” she greeted me in a robe; clearly I’d woken her up.
“We need to talk,” I said bluntly.
“It’s seven-thirty in the morning; come back in six hours,” she bitched groggily.
“Thanks clock, but I’m not waiting,” I said and pushed my way into her house.
“Won’t you please come in,” she offered sarcastically.
“Like you did into my house six hours ago?” I retorted, revealing what I knew in a heartbeat.
For me, this was like a verbal cup of java.
Her eyes went wide, and she too was suddenly wide awake.
“What?” I asked. “No witty, bitchy comeback?”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, words I hadn’t been sure she even knew how to say.
“For what?” I asked. “Fucking my son, or getting caught fucking my son?”
“Oh God,” she wailed in sudden hysterics.
“I heard you say those exact same words more than once while my son’s dick was banging your asshole,” I told her bluntly, really enjoying making her squirm.
“Please stop,” she said, trying to guilt trip me.
“I don’t think so,” I replied with icicles in my voice. “You don’t get to be the victim here,” and I sat down on her couch. I then added, as I spread my legs, having taken off my panties in the car, “but you do get a chance to demonstrate your remorse.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, tears streaming down her face as she stared at me.
“I’ve wanted to have my bitchy neighbor grovelling to me for years,” I said, “and now you’re going to do just that.”
“What?” she repeated, so dim she wasn’t catching on to my obvious expectations.
“You’re going to come over here, kneel between my legs and FUCKING eat my pussy,” I explained, using small words.
“I… am… fucking… NOT!” she growled, her face scrunching up like a prune, although those four words took her ten full seconds to exhale.