Fist

His hand curls into my hair, wrapping the long tendrils around his fist until there is no room between his flesh and my scalp. He lowers his hand, pulling me backwards.

Whimper.   Moan.   Hurts… Hurts…

His other hand is rubbing between my legs, up under my skirt.  I had not worn panties. I am a naughty girl sometimes. Who would know?

He rubs hard against my lower lips, his teeth bared in a sinister grin. In moments, in the poorly lit closet, I am groaning as I come into his palm. I feel his fingers probing, pressing inside of me. Dirty fingers, I had seen them just moments ago, fixing some mechanical thing in his workspace.

“Again,” he growls pulling my head close to his mouth, and taking a long lick of my ear as his fingers pump furiously into my pussy.

I’m barely balanced, bent back this way, my heels unstable with my knees knockered out this way. I feel it building in me again, intense and raw. My pussy hurts as he brutally slams his fist against my opening, jabbing as much of his hand as he can into my hole.

The sound of splatter on the dirty concrete between my feet embarrasses me.

“Fuckin’ whore. Cummin’ all over the floor. Dirty little slut, you better clean that up later. Later. Coz I’m not done with you yet, you bare-assed whore.”

He pushes me up and I whimper as his hand tugs out of my hair. Tears sting my eyes, as I feel my hair snapping away from my head. Fucking ouch! He pushes me over a dirty sink. An industrial sink, it’s once-white interior is dirty and dank-smelling. Some brown gunge on the inside makes me want to turn away, not smell it, not look at it.

His cock probes at my newly exposed cunt. I feel the roughness of denim against my ass as he slides to the hilt into me.  Some of my hair slides into the sink, but I don’t dare let go of the edge in case he pushes me in.

His groin smashes against me, fast, staccato stabs of his thick meat into my wet and throbbing pussy. His fingers bite into my hips, the torn and grubby nails ripping against my soft skin. He is grunting with the force of his blows, his hips pistoning into me. He stiffens, and I feel the throbbing inside me.

He is cumming.

I feel the wetness of it. The hot wetness of it. Feel his swimmers heading north for the promised land.

“This is what you deserve, you pantiless cunt. To have that bare cunt captured, taken, used, filled with my juice. Rounding your belly, pumping you up with it, making you own your title.”

“Whore.”

I hear a zip, the door opens, closes. I tug my skirt down. Down. Wonder how my husband will take it when the little stick has a plus sign on it.

I told him he only had to believe, and we’d get pregnant.

He didn’t need to know that Mrs. Eliot had told me about the many helpful things the school janitor could help a teacher with.

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