Miss Parker

It was parents' evening: only the second she'd done, but already a chore. Half the k**s were boring, the other half beyond saving - of course, you couldn't say that to the oh so loving, caring parents. She was already bored of the sound of her voice. "Thoughful c***d... improved effort... detailed knowledge of... blah blah blah." She couldn't stop her mind from wandering back to the previous night. Against common sense, her friend Karen had persuaded her to come out. "It'll be wicked, Hels, promise!" Wicked was right, thought Helen with a smile. They'd gone to a flash bar in the city centre: blue lighting, glass walls encasing flowing water. Karen wasted no time in setting up shop at the bar; and before they knew it, two handsome guys were buying them drinks. True to form, Karen and her bloke rushed off to the bathroom after the second round. Value for money! thought Helen. Helen had always been less adventurous than her friend; and, left alone with a stranger, felt slightly uncomfortable. But his gorgeous eyes were hypnotic, lighting his dark, rugged face. He'd introduced himself as Mike, in a smooth, deep voice. "I'd love to buy you another drink." And another, and another... Now completely relaxed and uninhibited, she dragged Mike onto the dancefloor. He wasn't a flamboyant dancer; but had a sure, understated rhythm; and ckept his body close to hers. She moved around to the front and pushed her arse against his bulging crotch. He leaned forward and kissed her on the neck. "Let's go back to my hotel." It seemed as though they were transported straight from the bar to the bedroom. She walked to the window: a gorgeous fifteenth-story view of the night-lit city. Without a word, he pressed up behind her and slowly pulled down the zip on the back of her dress. It fell to the floor. She had no bra on, which let him kiss her neck; her smooth back, all the way down... He bit her tiny white knickers, catching a bit of her skin, which sent an amazing thrill racing through her body. He pulled them down to the floor. Then, in one movement, he spun her around and licked her clitoris. It felt so good, standing there so exposed while this gorgeous man, on his knees, devoted himself fully to her pleasure. She gasped as he f***ed two fingers into her throbbing cunt. Her heart was beating so fast; she could barely stand up. She felt it rushing on and on and on: she was making involuntary sounds; sounds that she'd never heard before. Her pussy tightened. Her body twisted. She came with a long groan. Cool as anything, Mike stepped away and smiled. But she couldn't wait to feel his big hard cock inside her. She pulled his trousers and pants down. It sprang up, rock-hard. She wrapped her lips around it; sucked it, licked it, circled the end. Mike grunted in a****l-like pleasure. He fell onto the bed. She wanted him to keep feeling that good. But she was desperate to have that pulsating dick inside her twat. She stood, turned and lowered herself onto him. It was a perfect fit: rubbing the edges of her pussy; stretching it as she got more and more turned on, and her twat closed in it. Mike grabbed the bedcovers, desperate to keep this most amazing pleasure going. "Fuck!" he screamed. But it was too much: he slammed his feet into the ground; unloaded thick jets of spunk deep into her sweet pussy. Back in the present, Helen waved away another boring middle-class couple: glasses, plain clothes; middle-of-the-road c***d with nothing interesting to say for himself. She looked at her notes for the next c***d, aware that her parents were sitting: Jane Taylor. A pretty, popular girl - in other words: a bitch: the kind of girl she hated when she was at school, and who still went out of her way to be nasty to her. Helen looked up - and it was as if all the bl**d drained from her body. The girl's father was Mike. "Hi, you must be Miss Parker," he said, showing no sign of worry; but smiling in a way that let her know he remembered (and enjoyed) everything. This set her at ease slightly. "Mr and Mrs Taylor, nice to meet you." Mike replied in kind; Mrs Taylor just stared. "Shall we get onto the report?" she said in a cold voice. Clearly Jane inherited her mother's manners. In truth, she could barely remember their conversation. All she could think about was the previous night, spent fucking in every position: Mike pinning her legs back, ankles bouncing with his grinds; her pushing her round arse back and forth on him; but most of all his firm tongue on her clit; and the growl he made as he dug his feet into the ground and came that first time. Eventually she waved them away. Jane Taylor, resident bitch, turned to give her a withering look. She smiled back: the biggest, friendliest smile she could manage. That night, exhausted in body but excited in mind, she settled into bed naked with her rabbit. She slid it deep inside her pussy... ...and thought about Mike Taylor, fucking his wife with the big, hard, throbbing cock she thought was all hers. She imagined his firm arms holding her down; his muscular legs and arse tensing and relaxing, always pushing; harder and harder. It wasn't long before she reached a moaning, body-shaking orgasm.