42 Filthy Fucking Stories (10 page)

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Authors: Lexi Maxxwell

Tags: #Erotic Fiction, #Short Stories (Single Author), #Oral Sex, #Mothers' Day, #Romance

BOOK: 42 Filthy Fucking Stories
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The young woman reached up, grabbed his tie, tossed him to the floor, then pounced on him like a cat on catnip.
 

She wrapped her fingers back around his cock, guided his dick into her wet pussy and straddled him. She placed her hand on his chest and wildly bounced. Her pony tail slapped her shoulders and she rode him like a prized stallion.
 

Mick finally took control, rolling her to the side and then jerking the girl to her feet. In a single, fluid motion he slammed her hard against the elevator doors, jammed his cock as deep as he could, and thrusted her into a scream.

Mick was suddenly worried they’d be heard outside the elevator, and wasn’t sure which floor they were on, so he started pumping slower.
 

She said, “Is that all you’ve got, architect boy? Is that all you planned to do to me?”
 

Mick started pumping her at twice the speed, then flipped her so that her head went down, forcing her to slap a palm on the elevator floor. The fabric of her skirt fell just above her ass. Mick slapped it hard and turned it crimson.
 

He watched her blood race to the surface, then pushed his hand hard against her shoulder blades, and pumped her fast with nine full inches.
 

Mick was in mid-fuck, sweat beading his temples, having a better morning than he’d had in who knew how long, wondering how this girl knew how to fuck so fierce, seeing as how she had far more years worth of moving her hole around than her innocent face would indicate.
 

He could’ve probably smelled her a block away, the sex was soaking her aura. Mick wondered who she was, what made her such a minx, and how much he was going to end up paying for the pleasure of her pussy.
 

He wondered how much the scent would be on him, before wondering for the tenth time where he’d seen her before.
 

Mick’s dick slid into her dripping pussy without friction. The young woman was already loving it judging by her rapid pants, but she must have wanted to love it more. She pulled herself from Mick, pushed him to the ground, then straddled his cock and started riding him like a bull in a bar, pushing her hands on his chest for balance again, and bouncing wildly around.
 

She was slowing down, teasing herself, taking her time. Normally, Mick would’ve been happy to let her take all the way until Turkey Day, but he needed to empty his balls in her catcher’s mitt, and get the fuck out of the elevator ASAP.

For the first time, he wondered if there were cameras in the elevator. But he was running out of time.
 

He toppled her to the floor, pushed her shoulders, and thrust himself inside her, driving himself to an orgasm.
 

“Oh MY FUCKING CHRIST!!! Fuck me like an architect!!!” she screamed.
 

How in the hell did architects fuck?

They were rolling around on the floor, attached like dogs. Mick wasn’t slamming her G-Spot how he wanted, so he put his hands under her ass, thanked himself for the countless hours at the gym, then lifted her up and smashed her against the back of the elevator wall, driving his dick as high as it would go.
 

The young woman clutched the railing as Mick continued to thrust himself inside her. She bit his ear and he swung around, slamming her against the row of buttons on the opposite wall. Mick continued to pump, seconds from spilling his seed.
 

She lifted her leg, then propped it against the side wall of the elevator. Mick kept fucking. She lifted her foot up higher on the wall and Mick pushed her head toward the floor, stretching her body to its max. Mick kept fucking.

“Oh, YES!” she screamed.
 

Mick noticed all the numbers on the elevator were lit, just as the door opened to a crowd of people standing open mouthed on the other side. The man closest to the elevator took a step back. Shock from the people behind him kept them from blinking.
 

The young woman yelled, “Fuck them and FUCK ME!!! Don’t stop, don’t stop, DON’T STOP!!”
 

The door closed.

They twisted and turned and banged against every wall of the elevator as it moved from floor to floor. Mick lost count. He wasn’t sure which floor they were on and didn’t care. He continued to pound the young and tight but beautifully slick young pussy, thrusting his hips, with the back of his ass slapping the cool metal of the elevator door with every pass.
 

He grabbed the young girl’s pony tail and pulled, bringing her body closer as he filled it with thick spurts of hot cum.
 

She screamed loud enough for every floor to hear.

Mick pulled his cock out just in time for the second load to splatter her ass, knowing Mr. Wells would make him pay for this one more than most, probably more than all of the rest together. He set the head of his cock between her butt cheeks, as a bucket’s worth buttermilk continued to squirt.

The elevator door opened again.

Mick stumbled backwards through the opening, while the young woman fell to the elevator floor. For a moment they stood gazing at one another until the door closed separating them forever.
 

Mick looked around and saw his office mates staring in wide-eyed disbelief, his pants down at his ankles. Another elevator dinged behind him and out ran two police officers who pushed him against the wall and cuffed his hands behind his back.

 
A few minutes later, Mick found himself in his boss’s office with his pants back where they belonged. “How long you say he’s worked here?” The officer asked Mr. Wells.

Mick didn’t hear the answer. He was too busy looking at the photos behind his boss’s desk; photos of the daughter Mick just fucked to a puddle in the company elevator.
 

XXX

The Drug Lord’s Whore
 

Rick disliked most of the steaming heap of shit that made up his job, but this part was definitely one of the worst. He sat staring at the woman across his desk, as she twirled the ends of her blond hair around her long, skinny fingers, her legs crossed and body frozen, both of them doing the same exact thing they’d been doing for the last seven minutes.
 

Sarah Hudson wasn’t going to talk. None of them ever did. For reasons that only made sense in a psychology textbook, woman like Sarah always stayed loyal to these sniveling, no-good drug dealers who did nothing for them but break their hearts, then leave them in an empty pile when they were done.
 

Sarah was cute, too. Rick hated that he cared, and hated that he couldn't help but look even more. Her thick blonde hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, and her tired eyes looked downright exhausted beneath the heavy awning of her mascara.

She kept staring into Rick’s eyes with her tired smile, drawing lazy circles on her pants leg with a slender finger. He couldn’t hold her in the office much longer, but hated to see her go running back to the prick he couldn’t put away, even though he’d been trying for a big fat year and a half.
 

“So, nothing else you want to add?” Rick asked for the fourth time.
 

“Listen, I’ve told you all I know. I can’t tell you any more than that now, can I?”
 

“Alright, Ms. Hudson,” Rick said, handing her a card with all of his numbers. “If you think of anything you’ll give me a call?”
 

She sighed, took the card, and dropped it in her purse. “This is the third one you’ve given me, Rick. Christ, I think I have your fucking Twitter feed memorized by now.”

It was true, he’d handed her a card every time, always hoping she’d eventually spill her guts and send that fucking sleezebag into the slammer where he belonged. Usually she slipped his card in her back pocket, where Rick was certain it hit the trashcan before she had made her way out the door. At least this time it made it all the way into her purse.
 

“Is that all?” Sarah said, standing.

“That’s it,” Rick said, feeling more defeated than usual.
 

“Alright then,” Sarah said, sarcasm practically dripping from her lips, “Guess I’ll see you the next time.” She turned from his desk, then sashayed her sweet, tight ass out the door, turning every head as she went. Her scent lingered at his desk, saturating his office and attention.
 

FUCK.
 

Rick was tired, frustrated, and had a wife at home who would probably bitch him silly as soon as he stepped through the door, like she did every goddamn day that started with a sunrise and ended with a sunset.
 

He loosened his tie, ran a hand through his thick thatch of chestnut colored hair, then shuffled through the papers laying inch thick across his desk. He pounded his fist beside a pile of pens, rolling one from the edge and onto the floor.

“Fuck it. Nothing more to do here,” Rick growled to the empty room, then pulled his coat from his chair, said his goodbyes to the boys outside his office, and left the station. As he turned the corner of the building toward his car, Rick saw a figure lurking in the shadows. He squinted, gathered that the figure was far too small to pose a threat, then kept walking toward his Accord.
 

“Rick.” It was a statement, not a question, meant to grab his attention. He swung around to see Sarah Hudson standing, arms wrapped around her waist, draped in shadows. “Let’s take a ride.”

Rick was confused, but opened the driver’s side door, then hit the button unlocking the rest. He climbed in the car and turned the engine as Sarah slid into the other side. Damn she looked good. Her tight jeans were whispering compliments to every curve of her tiny body, and her low cut shirt spilled the tops of her small, tight tits into his vision; just round enough to make Rick involuntarily lick his lips, and would certainly get any fucker with a heartbeat to do a double take, then dare his heart to stop beating faster.
 

“Drive. We can’t stay here.” Sarah said, sounding like more warning than suggestion.
 

Rick was downright clueless why he should be taking orders from the local drug lord’s bitch, but he pulled from the curb anyway, driving in no particular direction, just like she had ordered. They drove in silence for the first few minutes until Rick couldn’t take it any longer.

“What is it Ms. Hudson?” he asked, using his best professional cop voice.
 

“Really Rick? This isn’t the time to be fucking formal. There’s a spot off Route 20. You know the one. Take me there. There’s something I want to show you.”
 

He made a few turns, then headed toward the spot where Rick had fucked her hard in high school, a lifetime or so ago, instinctively checking his belt to make sure his gun was still on him.
 

“You won’t need that,” Sarah laughed.
 

Rick couldn’t tell if she was mocking him or being serious.
 

He pulled into the deserted parking lot of the old factory off Route 20, and killed the engine. “Alright, Sarah. What is it you want to show me?”

There were a few lights in the parking lot, flickering against the shadows and playing tricks on Rick’s eyes as he scanned the area for potential dangers. When his eyes returned to Sarah, the thin gauze of her shirt was laying on his console. The thin lace of her bra did little if not nothing to hide the hardened bullets of her rosy pink nipples.

His body reacted before he could stop it. The instant throbbing in his hardened cock bleached his focus. Rick shot Sarah an uncertain look, then opened his mouth to say something, anything that might give him an answer as to why she was sitting half naked in his Accord.
 

“Shhhh,” she whispered gently, her finger on his lips as though consoling a child. “I told you, I want to show you something.”

This was dangerous, and Rick knew it. But damn if he could get his aching dick to listen. He watched Sarah unbutton her jeans, then wiggle from the denim. The sweet scent of her sweating pussy was like a pie in a windowsill, calling to him and demanding his attention as she piled all her clothes into a corner of the car, then inched closer to him.
 

She ran her hands up his leg toward his throbbing bulge, then unzipped his slacks and snaked her hand inside them before moving to his boxers. The warmth of her hand brushed his dick and he could no longer control himself.
 

Rick slapped her hand from his pants, then pushed her toward the passenger’s seat. She hit the opposite door with a thud, shock on her face swallowing every other expression. “Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he shouted – not a question, but a challenge.
 

Sarah shifted her weight in her awkward position, adjusting her back against the door and silently searching for a more comfortable spot to huddle, “I don’t understand,” she stumbled over her words.
 

“What is it that you don’t understand? You said you had something to show me. Now fucking show me.” Rick’s anger had little to do with Sarah, and everything to do with the world. He was pissed at his caseload, pissed at her cocksucking scumbag of a boyfriend, pissed that he couldn’t fuck the holy shit out of her, and pissed that there was nothing but a few strips of lace between him and the best goddamned pussy he’d ever seen, eaten, or slathered with spunk.

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