“Um, having a fun afternoon?” When Greg opened the door, he saw Olivia standing in her usual lazy Sunday garb of tight pink yoga shorts and a midriff-baring v-neck. Her chestnut-colored hair was braided down her back and she was just as chipper as at all times.
She smiled in a confused manner, “Hm? What do you mean Mr. Williams? I just got up like an hour ago. It’s nice to have a break from college…even though I just started up again. And, hey, did you happen to have any coffee? I know it’s a little late for it, but we’re out and I have this unbearable craving for caffeine!”
“Sure, come in Olivia. I’ll brew you some quick.” He stepped apart, letting his ridiculously cute neighbor inside. She didn’t seem to be aware of the gigantic block letters that said “CUMSLUT” in black Sharpie on her forehead, but it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. She clearly had some dude over last night–I think her parents were on some overnight trip–and, well, apparently she’s a little kinky. Greg *wondered* he heard some squealing when he was taking his dog out before bed.
He gave her a bemused look as they walked to the kitchen, though he let her get a bit in front of me so he could see her small but tight ass shift against her skintight shorts. She took a seat at the kitchen island while Greg started a new pot of coffee. While they waited they made light conversation about her semester. After pouring her a cup of cream-filled coffee, Greg had an idea.
“Hey, do you mind if I snap a pic?”
She cocked her head to the side while she held her hug between her small hands. “Um, what do you mean? Of me? Oh god no, I just woke up.”
“Just *real* quick,” He pulled out his phone and took a snap of her sitting befuddled across from me. “Perfect.”
“Uh, what’s this about Mr. Williams? Are you forgetting what I look like since I’m not around as much?”
“No, it’s not that, I just really wanted to preserve this moment.” He turned his phone around so she could see the picture of her sitting at the island, sipping coffee with those dark block letters on her head.
As soon as she saw the picture she spat coffee across the countertop and turned deeply red. “Ah!” She began to frantically rub her forehead, managing to further smear her brand. “Wait, wait, you have to delete that! It’s, uh, it’s not what you think!”
“Oh? I’d love to hear your explanation that *doesn’t* involve you getting *railed* last night.”
Olivia pursed her lips–and, damn, if those weren’t a perfect pair of beautiful cockwarmers–before replying, “Okay, so what’s this about? Are you going to tell my parents?”
“That depends on whether we can reach an agreement.”
“Really? Are we gonna negotiate now?” She was squirming in her seat and I wondered I caught her nibbling her lower lip. Maybe she really was so kinky that the wondered of being blackmailed turned her on.
After a brief moment of silence, she sighed, “Okay, fine, I’ll suck your dick.” She got up from the island, walked around to Greg and immediately groped him through his pants. He was a little surprised by how forward she was. “Already hard too. Have you been fantasizing about fucking my pretty little mouth?” She let her mouth hang open so that a strand of spit began to slowly dribble out onto her top.
Yep. he was gonna fuck that pretty little mouth.
About thirty seconds later, his hand was wrapped tautly in her braids, his forearm flexing as he snapped her back. His wide, hungry eyes fixated on hers as he unzipped his fly and pushed at his boxers with his thumb. That great erection fell like a tree in a forest, coming to bounce against the bridge of Olivia’s nose. He smiled with delight, nearly overcome with the pleasure of seeing her right there sitting obediently on her knees while his manhood fell across her face and left behind a trail of sticky precum.
Greg indulged in the moment, dragging his thick prick up to Olivia’s forehead and then down to her cheek, over her nose again and then tapping it on the other cheek. Finally he pushed it back and forth across the warm wetness of her lips, tracing their curves as he taunted her, “Is this what you need? Hm? Ready to show me how much of a cumslut you are?”
Olivia gave him a wry smile, sizing him up as he teased her with his erection. He paused just a beat, shifting his hips back as he lined up his entrance. Both of his strong hands found handles in her braids. Those greedy eyes still staring into hers, he thrust forward, burying his vein-ensconced member as deep as he could manage in her throat. With anyone else, he might have started out slow. But Olivia was *asking* for it and he didn’t care much if she couldn’t take it.
And so Greg felt liberated from his inhibitions when he thrust forward, plunging his throbbing appendage hard against the back of Olivia’s throat. She squirmed against him, her yoga shorts riding up her tanned thighs, exposing her luscious, jiggling ass cheeks. He paid little attention to her gagging and choking, but *did* reach behind her to give her a hard smack while his balls were squished against her chin.
“Mmph!” She yelped in shock, but didn’t stop sucking.
Greg felt the vibrations of her vocal cords moaning and squirming and perhaps even talking. Was that a “take it easy” that rang like a gorgeous melody in his ears? *Sure, I can slow down,* he wondered, too caught up in his testosterone-fueled violation to actually speak aloud.
The living room became a swirling blur as he thrust his upper thighs against her cheeks. He would draw his entire shaft back, so that only the cleft tip lay against the point of her tongue—let her spit up the saliva and mucus he drew up from his excursion—and then, while she was still half-gagging, he would plunge deep again, shoving his pubic bone against her cute nose. He let out primal exhalations that modulated into every version of the word “fuck” imaginable. First he went slow.
But then he saw her dripping a puddle onto the hardwood floor, the wetness of her pussy gathering and dripping like honey through her fingertips. During the oral assault, she’d managed to slide those tight pink shorts over her peach-shaped ass and down to her bent knees. One hand was between her thighs, clearly rubbing her clit. So he sped up, pushing her head against the sofa and watching with hedonistic elation as a waterfall of drool poured down her chin and fell in syrupy dollops on her small top.
He felt a soothing warmth as her esophagus constricted around his cock. He decided to make it tighter, reaching down to grasp her neck. With a firm squeeze, he could feel her throat distend as his considerable length descended. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, his wavy hair beginning to stick as he put in her to work.
It was so good. Too good. He knew if he kept it up just a few seconds longer he could easily blow a heavy load of cum into her empty stomach. He took a brief breather–with a loud POP he broke his spit-soaked dick from her inviting lips and then banged it like a club upon her forehead.
“Jesus Christ,” Olivia exclaimed, catching her breath. “Are you trying to suffocate me with that thing?” She flicked her tongue out teasingly, catching a droplet of precum from his reddened tip.
“I’m just verifying the truth of that label on your forehead.”
She giggled, her tongue flicking against his frenulum, “It says *cumslut* not *throatslut*.”
“Same difference,” he answered, filling her mouth again with his slab and plugging her nose as he dove past her uvula. “But we’ll see about the cum part soon enough.”
And it was *soon*.
Though he would have liked to last longer–Olivia’s v-neck was only *partially* splotched with spit–feeling her tense up as he continued to pummel her throat pushed him past the point of no return. The first rope of cum splattered against Olivia’s palette. Then Greg managed to free his cock and send the second, third, fourth, and fifth ropes in numerous directions across her surprised face. Fittingly, the final streak of cum cascaded across the smeared Sharpie ink before running into her hairline.
Olivia dropped her jaw in mock surprise, “You didn’t tell me you were going to cum on my *face*!”
Greg laughed, “Well, I thought you were a cumslut.”
“Now I have to walk back to my house with my shorts fucking *soaking* and your cum dripping down my forehead.”
He smiled at her, “Don’t be a brat. Just go clean up in the bathroom before you go.”
She got up, clumsily sliding her shorts back up to her waist. “Fine, but next time ask before you spray semen in my hair. Are you going to delete the photo now?”
Greg rubbed his chin, pretending to consider the question. “How ‘bout this? You come over for a swim tonight and I’ll let *you* delete it.”
Olivia paused in the doorway, biting her lip while thinking about what might happen later. “Fine. I’ll be here at 9 PM.”
“That’s a good girl.”