Dirty, Sexy, Taboo (19 page)

So when I discovered that she had a really hot, very rich, and very pussy-whipped boyfriend who thought the sun rose and set in her blue eyes, I knew I’d acquired my target.

Sarah B. was pretty confident in her belief that she was going to be the next socialite-on-the-Beverly Hills-scene because she already treated the poor guy like her personal ATM machine and he seemed to buy into her bullshit, too, handing over the Benjamins whenever she did her thing, which was often enough to keep her dressed in the latest designer clothes and driving a pretty nice ride.

Honestly, it was almost too easy — I ‘d been breaking up cozy couples since junior high —
 
but I knew losing her little Sugar Boy would really fuck with her plans so I worked setting up the trap.

Amateurs to this game would assume that the hard part is getting the guy to fuck you — however, that’s the easy part —
 
the truly hard part is getting the sorry sap to actually fuck you and leave the chick for you.

It’s a double-whammy of emotional bitch-slapping that only the truly experienced can pull off.

First, I needed to know what made the guy tick, so I set up a little recon.

Boyfriend AKA Bradley Isaacs, was a real fanatic when it came to airsoft guns. I mean, he liked to run around like some commando on speed shooting at people with fake guns. It was kinda juvenile but a little cute how into it he got and frankly, I wasn’t looking to marry the guy so each to his own. I had a younger cousin who was really into the stuff, too, so I asked to give me a crash course on the hobby and then borrowed one of his cooler guns.

Then, I approached Bradley with a supposed problem with my gun (cuz guys love it when girls seem all helpless, you know?) and the trap was set.

He took the bait —
 
hook, line and sinker.

“Your problem is you have a screw loose in the pistol grip,” he said, handling my airsoft version of the M4.

“Damn,” I said softly, seemingly irritated at my ignorance. “So simple. I was afraid I was losing my favorite gun.”

He seemed impressed. “That’s a lot of gun for a small girl,” he noted, his gaze skimming my petite frame and resting on my big tits. I smothered a triumphant grin. It was almost too easy.

“Don’t let the package fool you,” I said with a coy grin. “I can take a lot.”

“You play competitively?” he asked.

“Now and then when I can fit it into my schedule. It’s a great way to let off steam, you know?”

“Absolutely,” he agreed. “That’s what I’m always trying to tell my girlfriend but she doesn’t get it. She’d rather get her nails done or something. Guess it’s true…opposites attract, right?”

“Sometimes,” I said. “But then, sometimes it’s nice to do things that you both like, you know?”

“Yeah,” he said, trying hard not to stare at how my deep-V top gave him an obscene view of the rounded tops of my boobs. Not to brag, but I have porn star breasts without the silicone treatment. They were high and perky —
 
thank God for good genetics —
 
but big and firm. Once when I dabbled in the escort service business, a Japanese businessman offered me a lot of money to be his personal breast whore. He wanted to do all sorts of nasty things to my tits. It was fun at first, but I bore easily and his cock wasn’t big enough to hold my interest, not even for the amount of money he was offering. Plus, I didn’t fancy the idea of moving to Japan either. “So, maybe if you were down, we could play sometime?”

“I’d love to play,” I said, adding just enough suggestion to my voice to make him wonder. “I’m down for all sorts of things…”

He swallowed hard, the bobbing motion of his Adam’s apple giving away his interest. But he wasn’t a cheater by nature, otherwise he’d have countered with an equally suggestive comment that would’ve set in motion a time and a place to get freaky but instead my thinly veiled suggestion had him nervous —
 
and turned on.

Players were easy to play, but the mostly noble…they could be a challenge.

A challenge for the less experienced, of course.

“I have a girlfriend,” he blurted, his cheeks reddening in an adorable fashion. I hadn’t noticed before but now that he’d caught my interest, I realized he wasn’t half bad in the looks department. He had the jock build —
 
wide, muscular shoulders from years of athletic training, a nicely trim stomach and tapered hips —
 
but a sweetness about him that usually got leached out sometime in high school with his type.

“I’m not looking for a boyfriend,” I said, smiling innocently. “Just someone to play
airsoft
with who isn’t a total jerk, you know?”

He seemed both relieved and disappointed and I chuckled inside. “Yeah, it’s a guy thing. But the girls who play are kinda hot, too, so I bet you get hit on a lot.”

I shrugged. “I can handle myself. So, what do you shoot with?” I asked, seeming as if I were eager to return to the topic.

His eyes lit up as he answered, “Depends. My favorite gun is my Magpole M4 but I really enjoy the MP5 because of the high rate of fire. It’s bomb. I tricked it out pretty nice, too.”

“I’d love to see it,” I murmured, seeming excited. “Sounds hot.”

“Oh yeah, I mean, there’s others out there that people may argue are better but I’m sentimental about this one.”

“Why?”

“It was the first gun I ever successfully modified on my own. I pieced it together from nothing. It was pretty cool.”

“Nice,” I said appreciatively. “I’d love to see it.”

“Sweet,” he said, grinning. “Come by my place and I’ll show it to you.”

He scribbled his address on a piece of scrap paper from his backpack and handed it to me. “Awesome. How about tomorrow?” I asked.

“I have an analytics class in the morning but I’m free after eleven.”

“Perfect. Will your girlfriend be there?” I asked.

“No, she hates when I talk about airsoft. She says it’s stupid and immature. But it’ll be nice to be able to share it with someone who gets it.”

I smiled. Oh, he was going to get it, all right. And he was going to love it.

***

I showed up at his apartment dressed skimpily enough for the summer weather, but not so slutty that I was obviously trying to seduce, and brought my “guns” that I borrowed from my cousin.

“You came,” he said, his expression breaking into a surprised smile as he ushered me in and closed the door. “To be honest, I thought you were going to bail.”

“Why?” I placed my gun case on the coffee table carefully with a frown.

“Well, girls like you aren’t usually into this sort of thing.”

“Girls like me?” I asked, confused.

He flushed. “Hot.”

I laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Listen, my cousin got me into it and I liked it. I don’t know, maybe I was a sniper in a past life and this satisfies some latent itch.”

He seemed to like that idea. “Or maybe you were some warrior huntress…”

I arched my brow at him and he blushed a little. “Okay, maybe that was a bit much…my girlfriend is always saying that I need to stop when I’m ahead.”

I smiled, already weary of hearing about what his
girlfriend
had to say about anything. She was a bitch and frankly, she treated Bradley like shit so, it was time to up my game.

“Are you going to show me what you’ve got?” I asked, deliberately allowing my gaze to linger on his groin, before settling my attention on his face.

There was no mistaking his interest. In fact, it was almost painfully obvious that he was struggling big time with his conscience. My guess was that prissy Sarah B. kept her sugar boy in line with the power of her pussy. The poor guy probably had the worst case of blue balls in the history of Vernon U. Time to take chance…

“Bradley, can I be honest with you?” I asked, moving toward him, my gaze holding his without breaking.

“Sure,” he said, his voice a throaty, almost pained murmur, as if he were afraid I was going to eat him up, yet the idea excited him.

“You’re yummy,” I said, pulling the hem of my tight shirt up and over my head to reveal my tits that were barely restrained by my white bra. His eyes bugged at the swelling mounds of sweet flesh overflowing the cups and he swallowed hard but he didn’t tell me to get the hell out. That was a good sign; a greenlight, in my opinion. I smiled and wiggled out of my tiny shorts, revealing barely-there thong panties covering my soft and bare pussy and sliding up my ass crack. “Do you like what you see?”

“God yes,” he groaned before he could stop himself. “B-but…”

“Shhhh,” I crooned, advancing. “I know about your girlfriend. I know she doesn’t treat you right. I know that you deserve better than a frigid society bitch who gets off by ordering you around.”

“She’s not like that,” he offered a weak protest, his eyes glazing at the sight of my full rounded hips and tight waist. “She…”

“She’s not…” I wrapped my arms around him, murmuring seconds before my lips descended on his, “here.” Within a heartbeat, he groaned into my mouth, his tongue delving in to tangle with mine. His arms tightened around me and I could feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing against my belly. He felt nicely shaped, big enough for a good time by any standard, and I was getting wet from the anticipation of feeling it slide into my pussy. It’d been a few weeks since I’d enjoyed a little action —
 
college expectations were a bitch —
 
and I was horny as hell. Our breathing mingled as one as our kissing became more intense. He had some good technique —
 
likely wasted on Sarah B. —
 
and I couldn’t wait to see what he did with that tongue on my clit. “Let’s see what’s behind door number one,” I teased, sliding down his body to unbutton his khaki golf shorts and jerk them down to his knees. His cock sprang from his boxers, tenting the material as it strained like a wild beast eager to be free. I molded the fabric around the shape of his erection and smiled my approval. “Someone’s got a nice, fat cock hidden behind those tacky country club shorts,” I said, grinning as he blushed, but his tongue slid along his bottom lip as he urged me to pull it out. I slowly obliged, revealing his cock as if it were a present just for me. I exclaimed when I saw the girth and the slightly curved rod. He was going to be just right for hitting my G-spot and I shuddered in delight.

“You like what you see?” he asked hoarsely. I answered by sucking his cock into my hot mouth. He moaned and his knees nearly buckled as I sucked, gently cupping his balls and moving my finger to his ass. He stiffened when I got close to his asshole so I backed off, not wanting to freak him out right away. My mouth barely fit around his girth but I was a pro at sucking cock so I made up for my small mouth with plenty of tricky tongue and suction. I laved the head, nipped gently at the sensitive tip, and carefully drew his twin sacks into my mouth for a different sensation.

“Ohmygod,” he groaned, the words running into one another as his hips pumped against my mouth, his hands going to the back of my head to thrust against me. “Yoursofuckingamazing!”

Tell me something I don’t know. But it was still flattering to hear, nonetheless. I gripped his cock and worked it with both my hands and mouth until his groans filled the room, mindless of who might hear him and tattle that he was getting some strange when his girlfriend wasn’t around.  A delicious thrill spiraled down to my pussy and juiced me good. Sucking cock and hearing how appreciative the guy was always made me wetter than a seasoned whore. I mean, who didn’t like getting a fat cock down their throat? Likely, frigid bitches. Like Sarah B.

I knew if I let him cum in my mouth, he’d love it but then it would be over and he’d be overcome with remorse and regret because Sarah B.’s frosty mug would appear in his mind and he’d trip on himself shoving me out the door. It was too wham-bam to remember with anything more than a fleeting flush of embarrassment and a fervent promise never to do it again. No, I needed to get under his skin. I needed him to be in a lustful frenzy of unquenchable desire so that when it was all over, all he could hear, see or taste was me.

I withdrew from his cock with a lingering, drawn-out suck so that his dick bounced from the suction when I finally let go. His cock glistened with my spit, and his balls were tight to the touch. “Don’t stop,” he begged on a groan. “God, don’t stop!”

“We’ve only just started,” I told him, wiggling out of my panties and tossing them at him. He brought the tiny scrap of lace to his nose and inhaled deeply. His gaze narrowed and I sucked in a tight breath at what I saw. I loved a man who got off from the raw scent of a woman. Men who got squicky over the smell of a pussy, weren’t men in my opinion. Once, I was with a man who thought my pussy was the best he’d ever buried his face into. Suffice to say, I let him eat me out whenever he felt the need. That tongue of his had never disappointed. I was curious to see how Bradley would fare. I walked to the sofa and sank down into the cushion. I moved the gun bag to the floor and then using the coffee table to brace myself, spread my legs to his wide-eyed stare. His gaze settled on my bare pussy and his breathing quickened. “Well,” I teased. “Are you just gonna stare or are you gonna get your ass over here and get a taste?”