Chapter 70: First Time Whore 002/ Zucchini Cake001

His thick old dick slid inside her in one stroke. He wasn’t particularly long, so he bottomed out quickly, pausing just a moment to catch his breath before starting to pump himself in and out of her little body.

She was used to closing her eyes during sex, but she couldn’t look away from the visual of his cock thrusting confidently into her tight hole. Her cunt felt like it was on fire and he could tell, reaching immediately for a small vibrator that he’d brought over to the bed when he’d bound her. He turned it on, applying it to her clit, and she gasped.

The more she moaned, moving her hips helplessly against him, the deeper he pressed into her, the more assertively he fucked her. His sweat dripped down onto her body, and she felt slick, flithy.q

“Are you going to cum for me, pretty little slut?” he asked, moving one hand up to grip her by the throat. She could feel his big balls slapping against her asshole, and his hand squeezed. She gasped. She was nothing but a fucktoy, a pretty object he was using for his pleasure.

“Yes, sir!” It might not have sounded like anything—she couldn’t really breathe. Her head was spinning, just a little bit. The harder he choked her, the more she felt her orgasm building. She almost never came during sex with other people, but she felt certain she was about to cum all over this old stranger’s cock.

“I’m going to fuck my cum into your little slut pussy,” he said, looking her directly in the eye, and that was all it took for her to explode around him. She trembled and bucked, as naked and vulnerable as it was possible for her to be, and moments later, she felt his cock throbbing in response to her fluttering, gripping inner walls. He emptied himself into her with a long groan, a satisfied grin, and when he rolled off her, a pat on the ass.

He untied her and cuddled her for a moment afterwards, but once they’d both cum, the interaction became curiously utilitarian and polite. He directed her towards the bathroom to clean herself up, and once she’d emerged dressed and groomed, she found her belongings placed back in her bag and a plain, white envelope on top of it. It felt thick.

Before she left, legs still trembling a little, he kissed her, smiling paternally. “I’ll remember your beautiful eyes for a long time.”

As the door shut behind her, she was certain she needed this to happen again.

The End.

Book Title: ***Zucchini Cake***

Mmmm. Another event to celebrate—my husband’s birthday. I pulled the covers over my head and slithered down his body, stopping first at his nipples, then at his belly button and then at his stiff prick. With the covers surrounding me it was like I was in a dark cave, so dark that I could only find my away around by touch. Of course, I was using the tip of my tongue to do the touching so I used my imagination a lot to help me visualize what I was doing. That upped the level of intensity quite a bit.

I dragged my tongue along the bottom of his cock until I reached his opening, pausing a moment to taste the salty precum. Swirling my tongue around, I put just the slightest amount of pressure on my lips and began to leisurely take him into my mouth.

A thrill ran through my body when he moaned. I trembled when he reached down and ran his fingers through my hair. When he applied pressure to the back of my head, forcing me down on him, I almost came. I was ready to begin some serious sucking when, unexpectedly, he yanked the covers off my body.

As I adjusted to the dim light in the room I heard him whisper, “As much as I was enjoying that, I want to see you. Come on top of me.”

It was his birthday. I was supposed to be pleasing him. Our love-making was so intense, though, I’m not sure who got the most pleasure. Not only did I climb on board and take him inside me as deep as I could, I leaned back, placing my hands on his knees, so he could watch his cock slide in and out of me. When he squeezed my nipples I just about exploded, my orgasm fueled by the hot jism he was blasting inside me.

I fell forward on top of him, gasping for air, and laughed. “That was fast,” I said.

“And fantastic,” he said. “Am I gonna get my usual birthday present later tonight?”

I sat up a bit and smiled at him. “Of course. Along with another one of your favorites—zucchini cake.”

“Oh, man,” he said. “Zucchini cake and…”

I put my finger on his lips and whispered into his ear. “Shhh. Don’t say it. Just think it. Think about it all day.”

He put his hands behind his head and sighed. “As if I’ll be able to think about anything else.”

§

Well, I could hardly think about anything else either. My legs were still wobbly when I got to work. It was as though my orgasm and my anticipation of giving my husband his birthday present had sucked all the energy out of me. I don’t know how many times I had to go to the ladies’ room to rub my clit, but doing that only increased my lust. I mean-seriously-I wasn’t about to come in the rest room. I’m too noisy for that, so I just let my frustration build.

I left work two hours early to get the groceries I needed for the birthday celebration—filet mignon, some champagne and, of course, zucchini. My recipe called for two cups of grated zucchini and experience told me that an eight inch zucchini would suffice. I could get a bigger one but, you know, waste not, want not.

As I perused the bin holding the zucchini I found an unusual one. It was the right length—eight inches—but was also shaped like the letter J. The end of the zucchini curled around and was about three inches long and, unlike the rest of the zucchini in the bin, still had a lot of the stem attached. That part was brown with a rough texture. As I stared at the somewhat mutant zucchini it seemed to be calling to me—buy me, buy me. I decided that it was a zucchini fit for a special occasion, so, of course, I bought it.

I raced home and got everything ready to make the cake—bowls, mixer, flour, eggs, nuts and my food processor. I’m not one to shred a zucchini by hand. It’s too time-consuming and I usually wind up scraping skin off my fingers. Satisfied that I could make the cake as though I were on an assembly line, I jumped in the shower, dried off and put on my favorite royal blue short robe—and only my short robe.

My first chore was supposed to be the shredding of the zucchini. When I picked it up, however, I squeezed it to check its firmness and was shocked that it felt exactly like a stiff prick. It was firm but still gave just a little bit. On top of that the skin was smooth and almost silky. Again it seemed to call to me—use me, use me.

Use me? What could it mean? I began to think that the zucchini was demonic because, after about a minute of staring at it, I understood what it was telling me. I almost ran to the bedroom, whipped off my robe and slowly—very slowly—began to ease the zucchini into my pussy. Oh, God. It felt so good. The cool skin mixing with my hot innards created an unbelievable sensation.

When I had it about six inches inside me the stem began to press against my back door. Dare I? The demonic fruit called to me—do it, do it. “Yes,” I whispered. “I will.”

Moving even more slowly I slid the fiendish fruit even deeper, moaning as the rough edges of the stem caused me both pain and pleasure. “Harder,” it said. “Faster.”

I jammed the green monster into both my openings as deep as I could and turned it into a piston that plunged in and out of me. I screamed at the top of my lungs when I came but, before my orgasm subsided, the zucchini whispered, “Again. Harder and faster this time.”

Harder and faster. I thought that was impossible, but it wasn’t. I used both hands to jam it inside me, moaning, “Uh…uh…uh…uh…” with each thrust. Finally I let out an animalistic howl that echoed throughout the entire house.