It's unbelievable how easy it is to have crazy hot sex right under my family's nose. I mean, I am obviously having sex nonstop like a rabbit in their basement, and it goes unnoticed. I think that adds to the fun. Knowing that we could get caught turns me on like nothing else. It's like I am supercharged. I can cum without a moment's notice if he asks me to.
Christmas dinner has always been fun. And when I say fun, I actually mean hell. True to life hell. I hate the holiday. Not what it means, but I hate the commercialization of it all. I hate how it makes people insane. People do get insane. Apparently the suicide rate goes up too. I think it is some kind of pandemic. People get violent. They get greedy. And then they feel so guilty about it, that they kill themselves.
Anyhow, back to Christmas dinner. I hate it. I don't have to dress up. That is what my grandmother says. When I was younger, I always did. Not a dress, I do not like dresses. I would put on a nice pair of pants and a top. This Christmas, I am wondering if I should dress up. Then I realize that we go to my aunt's the next day, and there it is mandatory. So that means no dressing up for me.
You have to realize that my family is uptight casual. That is what I call them. Even when they are casual, they are not. There are words you don't say. There are topics that are taboo. I am used to side stepping issues, and pretending that things that are bad in the world don't exist.
"So, Derek... Don't you feel horrible that you aren't with your family today?" My grandmother asks as she passes food around the table. we've already done the force prayer.
"My mom needed to see her sister. I can understand that." Derek agreed with a nod as he accepted a basket of rolls. "She hadn't seen her in yeas."
"Well, that is nice." My grandmother agrees with a smile as she shovels food onto her plate. As I look around the table, the amount of food on the table is a slap in the face. There are starving people and by the end of the dinner, we will throw out enough food to feed a nation.
Eating is hard. You were never realize how hard it is until you are in a position that makes it not so easy. I am trying. I try to eat the mashed potatoes. I'm not really a fan of that starch that grows under the earth. I mean look at it. You have to scrub it to get the dirt off. No thank you. Anyway, dinner is hard when all you can do is look next to me into blue eyes. But the thing is, I don't give a shit about his eyes. It's that tool. It's the big cock that is in his pants. For a cock that big, it has to be confining. I think it's either forced into a ball, or laying down his leg. He is inches away. We are crammed into the table lie sardines. So close. Okay, so now do you see, just how difficult it is to eat.
So now, my grandma is talking about aunt Betty. Yeah, I love aunt Betty, but do you know what I love more? Cock. I am moaning in my head. I am thinking about it as we speak. My core it hot. I am dripping wet just thinking about that slipping and sliding. I can feel his strong body against mine. I love it when he lays over me, showing he is in control. Apparently, Derek is thinking the same damn thing. I feel him grab my hand. As first I pull it away, I have no idea what he is doing. He makes another grab for me and holds it to the crotch. Holy shit he is hard. I think he is about an inch from lifting the table off of the floor. He's a rock hard rod, ready to pierce through his pants.
I'm a little devil. A vixen. A vixen in a female fox. And they are cunning and coy, right? Well, that is what I am. I know this, because here my fingers go. I ever so gently unzip Derek's pants. It was quiet. Not the usual zip sound resonating. Not that they would hear. This family is so damn loud, they wouldn't hear sirens going off. In my hand goes. Into the cave I work my way in. Through the boxer briefs. And there it is, it pops out so easily.
Derek's eyes get wide. I don't think he was expecting this. I think he just wanted to make me hot. I think he wanted to tease me. Now it is I who teases him as I run my thumb over his red velvety head. I swirl it around and around. My hand grasps the pole tightly. It feels so amazing. So hard in my hand. Truly his flesh is soft over this hard meat. I can feel the vein running along him. He is all man. And god I am dripping.
Derek groans softly as he sucks in breath. See, I am talented. I have mad skills that people only wish they could posses. I am eating. With one hand, I am lifting spoonfuls of food to my mouth. And with the other hand, I am jacking this man off. I am doing a damn good job of it. I can feel him swelling in my hand as I run up and down, up and down. Derek is trying to eat, but he can't. There is no way to eat when a girl has her hand on your cock and is going to work so meticulously.
He's ready to cum. The family is talking about the latest gossip, and he is ready to blow a load on our table. I abandon the cock, only to receive an "Oh no you didn't." Look on his face. I massage the boys. They are rock hard and tight against his body. He is more than ready. My tired hand quickly grasps again, this time squeezing just a little tighter. My one hand is having a hell of a time trying to do it. Up and down. Up and down. Such a little motion has him feeling unbelievable pleasure. I can feel him starting to pulsate. I pump harder and tighter.
"Derek... Ar you okay?" My uncle asks as he looked up at him. Derek's face is beat red in a pre-orgasmic fog.
"Fine." Derek gasps as I continue on, nonchalantly. Harder, harder, harder and there it goes. I can feel the spurting going on as my hand goes silent. He is shooting messy loads all over. Another pissy day. My uncle will think there is an incontinence problem here. "Horseradish." Derek manages to spit out as he continues to cum.
"That stuff will kick your ass!" My uncle tells him with a nod, the table agreeing. As I sit there with my shit-eating grin on my face, I run my hand along the underside of the table. It's gross, I know. But I need to know. The curiosity is killing me. I feel it. Slippery and wet. He sprayed our table. I let out a loud belly laugh as I sit there. They look at me like I am insane. Derek looks at me like I am dead. I know I have it coming. And I can't wait.
After dinner, we open presents. But before presents, we have the dishes. My grandma is one of the freaks that washes dishes before she washes dishes in the dishwasher. And I am not susie homemaker. I don't plan on being her. So I avoid. I am semi-nice and scrape the food from the plates into the trash. As I stand there, semi-bent over, I feel a hand cop a feel of my mound. I knew it was coming. I told you so.
I have to admit, I am a whore. I get off damn easy, and it feels good. People are around, but Derek is smart. All I want to do it stay there and grind against his hand, imagining that gigantic cock between my lips. No my mouth lips. My pussy lips. My dripping wet, needing pussy lips. I feel Derek pull away. Who's the teasing bitch now?
"Mer... Can you take the trash out?" My grandmother asked as she walks in. "To the garage."
"Of course. But you know I won't come back, right?" I ask her honestly. Why can't the worthless men do the stuff around the house. I am not their slaves. Not by any means. In bed, I am more than happy to be a slave. But if you hand me a pan, the only thing you will get is a crack upside the head.
I walk out. I know he is near. I can feel it. His hot breath is grazing my neck as I stalk away from him. I make my way through the double doors. He shuts each door behind him. Just as I get ready to lift the lid open to the can, he grips my sides. I squeal softly as I drop the bag.
"You're a little bitch." Derek says as he spins me around. I look at him. He will not call me that. I quickly raise my hand and crack him across the face.
"Don't call me that!" I spit as I glare at him, my eyes piercing his.
"Oh, honey... I only mean it in the most respectful of terms." He says with a smirk. "And I think you have it coming to you. Jacking me off at the table. So naughty and nice..."
"I like naughty." I say frankly as I look at him. His eyes are dark. It's just need. Pure sexual need. He shoves me back against the car just a little too hard. I have to admit, I like it a little rough.
"Than you deserve a spanking. Some discipline. You are a bad little girl." He growls as he looks at me, ripping his pants down. He is hard and ready once again. I decide this time, I will let him take charge. He quickly rolls the condom on and begins to play at my jeans. He wants me as much as I want him.
"You were bad. So bad." He says as he grabs my face roughly. My eyes get wide as his mouth comes near mine. No kissing. He is breaking a rule. He grips me so I can't turn away and he forces his tongue into my mouth. Now this is a tongue lashing. A tongue lashing at it finest. I pull away angrily. I can't believe he did that. "That is what bad girls get." He tells me as he grips my arms tightly and shoves me against the car.
I can't help but go limp. The man is giving me what I want. I am up against the car, his body covering mine. He is ready to fill me up. He is ready to cum inside of me. Well, in the condom. I kick my jeans off and spread my legs. I was a bad girl. Oh so bad. I wrap one long leg around him as I keep the other on the ground. He goes in deep and hard. Way too deep. Way too hard.
"Ahhh!" I scream softly as I feel the pain that has ripped me apart. Derek smiles. The rat bastard is smiling with satisfaction.
"You know you fucking like it." He growls as he grips my thighs and throws me up on the hood of the car. My back slams down, and he never misses a beat. I feel him pushing and pulling into my core. he leans forward and lifts my shirt, kissing my abdomen. I love every minute of it, but I refuse to show him any sign of satisfaction or affection. "You are a tight little fuck. So much tighter than that little hand of yours!" He shouts as he struggles to go deeper. I feel him stand and grip my thighs tightly, ripping them apart. "Look at you, spreading your legs. My bad girl wants it bad, doesn't she?"
"Fuck you, Derek! I am not your girl. Fuck you... Oh fuck... ME! Fuck me!" I scream loudly. Probably too loudly. But the man is more than waking me up with his hard member deep seated inside.
"Oh god... Oh god... You like it. You fucking like it. Scream my name. Do it." He says as he grasps me tightly. "Scream my name!"
"Derek! Derek! Oh god... Derek!" I yell as he pumps harder and deeper. I can feel the beads of sweat forming on my hairline. I can feel the sweat on the small of my back. Derek has his hands all over my body. He wants it. He needs it.
"That's what I thought!" He grunts as he begins to go faster, feeling my tight walls well on their way. "You like your discipline. You got off on it... Oh fuck! Oh...You tight little..." He shouts as he leans in, making his thrusts shorter and faster. "Oh god. Oh my fucking... Oh!" He spits as he cums into the condom shooting his hot spurts of man into the rubber.
"Oh yes...Oh yes... Oh yes... Oh god... You have the biggest cock! Oh... There it is...right...Oh...There!" I yell as I cum hard and fast, my walls, and uterus strangling him hard. "Oh..." I moan as I lay my tired head back and let my fluid run all over myself. I am sure that the car is covered in me. I look up at Derek. His eyes are closed. He is spent in every meaning of the word. I feel him slide out, leaving a void. I moan as he pulls me to my feet, legs buckling.
"Damn girl..." He mutters as he looks at me. I feel like I went through war. Derek looks down at the hood of the car and his eyes get wide. "Look at that. That is all you." He says in amazement. I laugh as I wipe my sleeve across the car. "That is good shit."
"That it is." I agree with a nod as I pull my pants up. I am seriously addicted. This cannot be good.
--
My grandma goes to church. I am supposed to go to church. But I am not so into. In fact, I am not into it at all. I find it boring. If that makes me a bad person, so be it. But I don't think I need to find god that way. My grandma wanted to be a nun. A true to life nun. That was her dream. She never did it. Something happened, I probably wasn't listening when she told me that story, but nonetheless, she did not. If she had, I would not be here. Well I hope not. Because if she is a nun and I was here, we have problems. Serious problems.
Well grandma has one request every year. I will always ask her the same question. What do you want for Christmas? I always receive the same answers. First, a handmade card. Apparently she is holding on to something. She is holding onto the scraps of my childhood. I always tell her the same thing. I do not have time to make you a car. It's probably as shitty and insensitive answer. I mean, she is healthy, but eventually she will die. We will all die. And will I regret not making her that card that she wanted so badly? There is no way of knowing. Knowing me, probably not. So I always hand her a card. Store bought. I hate them. I think they are the stupidest thing. I have always operated the same way when I receive one. Rip and dump. If money comes out, great. If not, trash. Like I said, I hate cards. All I need is the envelope. Full of cash, if you please.
The second gift is one I always give her. It's a ridiculous gift. A gift that she should not ask for. To me, a gift is material. A sweater. A gift is the wretched sweater that makes you sick just looking at it. The red knit one with the Christmas tree with the real bells on it. The one that jingles all the way. That is a gift. It's disgusting, but it works. There are all kinds of gifts. Food. Food is great. Clothes never work out. Ever. Occasionally you will get some useful stuff. If not, it goes somewhere. My grandma is an avid regifter. I on the other hand, am an avid stacker. I stack it all in the corner of my closet. You can tell what year it is from by the layers of dust. So anyhow, the gift. Church. Seriously? Seriously? Who requests that? She does. It's hell, but I do it. I do it because I have to.
So I get dressed up. Apparently, barn clothes don't work. No muddy boots. No fleece jacket covered in hay. No torn jeans. This is one of those times when I have to wear dress clothes. I mean, I am going. She should take what she can get. But no, she pushes for more. And the whole family goes. And we suffer. We suffer together. In church hell. If that isn't an enigma, I don't know what it.
Derek is going. His mom does church. His whole family does. I bet he was even an alter boy. I will never ask. I have no interest in such things. But I do have interest in one thing. Cock. Yep, cock. And I can't get that at church. I moan as we all pile in the car. I want my frustration to be heard throughout the land.
"Don't smile." I growl at Derek. He is just way too fucking happy. Way to happy. This is church.
"What? You don't like church?" He mocks as he drive along, all together.
"Shut up." I say, signaling to him to back off. I am not having this conversation with him.
I look good. Really good. Derek had never seen me looking good. I wonder if he notices. I wonder if his cock is jumping like a begging dog. I don't see it. It actually makes me kind of sad. I'd love to see some iron action right now. I would love to see it. So yes, I look good. And damn-it, Derek had on a red shirt that is heating up my core like an inferno. I wonder what everyone would think if they knew I was creamy-white right now.
So church to me is boring. I don't know what they are talking about. I have never paid attention. I'm not knocking it. It's great. For some people it is the best thing. But it isn't my thing. Not close. So I choose to count lights. There are well over one-hundred. And fans. There are fifteen fans. I count. Over an over. Occasionally I come up with different numbers, and have to recount. That just adds to the fun.
One thing you should know, I laugh spontaneously. At the worst times. Like in church. They are talking, and I am struggling to keep it all in. First it is a faint giggle. Then it is near a full-on belly laugh. Then, I have to try and reel myself in. See, people tend to look when you are laughing. In church. They now place me next to grandma. The gestapo. The enemy. This only makes me laugh harder. The more they get mad the more I lose control.
Okay. So laughing is bad. You know what is worse? Cock. Thinking about cock in church cannot be good. And I am looking at it. I think it is starting to rise. We rise, it rises. It wants me. It wants to slide deep in my walls. It wants to taste my wet folds. I look at it. My core is watering. My mouth is watering. I'd take it in anywhere. Wherever he sticks it, I will take it. I look up at him and lick my lips. I want the cock. I want the cock. Derek gives me a wink. That is all it takes. I'm gushing and laughing.
I giggle loudly. His body rubbing mine. His hard member begging to have me. I can feel his mouth my my flesh. My breasts laying on his hard chest as he pulls me against him. His cock sliding in and out as I rise and fall. Our juices flowing freely as I ride like it is the ride of my life. I can feel his hands on my ass as I rock his world. Such good thoughts. Good giggly thoughts.
"Out." My grandma growls as she looked at me. "Go." She says again. Damn. I just get kicked out of church. So much for my impure thoughts. I will just take them to the car with me. And Derek, he things it's funny. I see the smirk. Bullshit. Complete bullshit. So, this is fun. Now he will get it. Now he needs a spanking. Bad boy.
