Roxy - Sex Stories

Roxy

... little leakage. The beauty of small cocks is the blowjobs are effortless. I slid up and down like it was a hobby of mine... well I suppose it actually is. Anyway, I wasn’t choking, that’s the point I’m trying to make. It felt good because I only like choking on cock when the guy deserves to be slobbered on. However, I spoke too soon and the bastard pushed down on the back of my head with both of his hands, forcing the cock deep into my throat. My face was up against his soft bed of grey curls. I began slapping his skinny thighs, but he still wouldn’t release me. So I dug my nails into skin. He released me, but not until I vomited a mouthful spit over my blouse. I fell backwards, covered in the sort of mucus only your GP finds. However, rather than feeling defeated, my depraved lust kicked in and I felt ready to get my sexual revenge. I climbed to my feet. My blouse felt drenched and clung to my skin. He sat there on his chair, wearing a smile on his decrepit face. It made me hate him even more. He was going to get it... big time. In fact, I was going to retire the bastard... permanently. “You want it rough?” “I think I have made that perfectly clear, my dear.” “Your cock is going to be so sore, you’ll feel like you’re wearing a catheter,” Pulling my blouse over my head, I let it fall, before unbuttoning my black skirt and stepping free. Kicking off my Sunday school shoes, I launched them at the bastard. I then ran in my white school socks, and threw myself towards him. Our ...

... bodies collided and sent us rolling on his chair, crashing into a bookshelf. Text books and journals clubbed us as they rained to the floor. A weighty contacts book smashed me in side of the face, but I couldn’t care less as I went about ripping that fucking awful green pullover over his head. I pulled it over his face and watched it get caught on his hooked nose. He screamed as I pulled ... so I yanked it even harder. To my despair Graham wore a sky blue shirt with small vintage aircraft flying over his torso. A sure sign of questionable kinks. “Is your mum still alive?” “What the hell has that got to do with this?” “I’m sure she still dresses you.” Pulling my panties to one side I sat on his cock and slid it in deep. I’m easily excited so my pussy is constantly lubed. It would take more than a badly dressed dirty old man to cause a drought in my pants. I pulled at Graham’s shirt, popping buttons, ripping it down over his shoulders. It didn’t get any better as he wore a discoloured string vest. But I was too far gone to give him a lecture on his choice of clothes. Grabbing the back of his neck I began grinding my hips into his pelvis. I stared at him for point blank range, causing us to share the same air. My screams were an act, but my enjoyment was clear for him to see. Sex is never a choir, not with strangers anyway. As the sexual tension rose I began to tear at his neck with my nails, and smiled as I left rivers of red skin. I cried in agony as he tore at my bra, snapping ...