“I want you to fuck me,” Amy began, her voice soft but slightly husky. “I want you to throw me down and tear off my clothes and take me hard. I’ll resist you, but you’re stronger, and you’ll make me do everything you want,” she said, and I could hear that her breathing was becoming deeper, and there was a hint of her scent in the car. I glanced over and saw that she was rubbing slowly, but pressing her hand hard against her crotch.
“Take off your tights and your underwear,” I said, again hearing the command in my voice. “When you’re done put your shoes back on and touch your pussy for me.”
I watched the road but glanced over at her several times as she struggled out of her tights. I came to a light and stopped, then chose a side road to continue down. When I looked back at Amy her tights and panties were balled up on the floor of the car, her fingers dancing over her wet folds.
“Tell me what’s going to happen now,” I said.
“I’m rubbing my pussy for you, trying to make you happy. When we stop you’re going to drag me out of the car and into the woods. You’re going to throw me down and fuck me, and I’m going to scream and hit you but you won’t stop,” she said and then moaned.
The car reeked of her scent, and I glanced over and saw her fingers glistening as two of them repeated disappeared inside her. Her head was back against the window, her eyes closed as she pictured her fantasy.
“Are you a slut?” I asked her, “Are you a whore who wants to be used like a whore?”
She looked at me with her pretty blue eyes wide. She turned bright red, and she looked like she was going to cry. “I’m not a slut. I’m not. I only want to be with you,” she said. Her voice was shaky and she was distraught.
“I want you to be a slut for me,” I said. “Whenever I want you to, I expect you to be the biggest slutty whore in the world.”
“Yes,” she said as she nodded, “I’m your slut. I’m a slut for you, a whore for you to use,” and she went back to fingering her pussy. Her eyes closed again and her head lolled against the window as she whispered, “I’m your whore. Use me like a slut, use me like a fuck toy.”
“Take off your bra, and leave your blouse unbuttoned to there,” I said, pointing at the button just below her breasts. She did, and her unencumbered breasts strained to split the blouse open, her cleavage impressive.
We were driving through a small town when she started to rub herself again, and she stopped and sat up when I pulled into the parking lot of a small diner.
“Why are we stopping?” she asked, panicky.
“I want some coffee,” I said, and I parked and turned off the car. Seeing her reach to the floor of the car for her underwear I said, “Stop. Get out and straighten your skirt. I want to see you like this inside with me.”
Amy held my arm as we walked up the ramp and I held the door for her watching her pretty legs as she went in ahead of me. I watched her as we waited for the waitress to seat us, and even though there was no possible way to see that she was naked beneath her skirt and blouse, she was flustered and nervous enough to raise suspicion.
We sat, and I ordered two coffees. Amy scooted around the booth and sat close to me, and I could feel her tension. I glanced around the diner and saw only two older men, one at the counter eating, the other reading a paper in a booth.
The waitress came over and poured our coffee, and I put my hand on Amy’s thigh and slipped it up under her skirt. As the waitress told us to call her when we were ready to order, I opened her thighs and placed my fingers against her wetness.
“I’m scared,” Amy whispered. “Let’s not do this here.”
I looked into her eyes and whispered back, “If you want to be my slut, prove it,” and I pushed the tips of two fingers into her. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps, and she became so wet that it ran down my fingers and into the palm of my hand.
I gently fingered Amy’s pussy as I slowly drank my coffee, and then stopped to take out my wallet. I tossed a ten on the table and walked Amy to the door, her coffee cup full and cold. I saw that the older guy at the counter was admiring her legs with a leer, and I flipped up the back of her skirt to give him a shot of her tight, round ass.
The old guy blew a silent whistle as his eyebrows shot up, and I escorted Amy out of the diner and put her in the car. I didn’t make her do anything on the drive back to the hotel, and she fell asleep after a while nestled into my side.
I parked my car and escorted Amy back up to our room. As soon as the door was shut I was kissing her, and she me. I pulled her blouse off of her slowly and tugged her skirt down over her hips until it dropped around her feet.
I swept her up in my arms and placed her in the bed, still wearing her heels, and I undressed. She was asleep when I got into bed, and I pulled her close to me and was out like a light in minutes.
Sunday
Wake Up Time
I woke the way every man likes to wake, with a gorgeous blond sucking my cock. Amy was far too inexperienced to recognize a piss hardon, and what she was doing felt too damn good to stop her.
I don’t know how long she had been sucking me before I woke up, but I watched the digital clock change from ten forty-seven to eleven ten before I sat up and told her to stop.
I went into the bathroom and relieved myself, then called her in. We showered like the night before, with me first soaping up her Centerfold body and then washing her hair, and finishing with her tenderly washing me from head to toe. I still had to wash my own hair.
After the shower Amy ran over and jumped onto the bed, staring at me hungrily from all fours. She was ready to romp, and apparently in a damn playful mood. What else could I do but shoot her down?
“Put some clothes on, we’re going out,” I said as I pulled my clothes out of my bag. Amy pouted but didn’t argue, putting on a pair of tight jeans and a sweater over white cotton bra and panties. She pulled her Army jacket on and stooped to tie her combat boots, and I was struck by the strange personality of this girl.
On one hand she was a fabulously beautiful blond with a killer body the boys would go nuts for, and she craved that attention. She would fall over and spread them wide if a guy told her how hot she was. But she hid it all beneath angry grrl clothes, like she didn’t want anybody to notice how fucking fantastic she really was.
We stopped in the hotel restaurant and I ordered us each a light omelet breakfast with coffee and juice, and we both cleaned our plates. I walked Amy out to the car, and after stopping to fill up I drove to a giant mega mall off the Interstate.
Going Shopping
We went into the mall to find it packed with people of all ages and social status. Amy kept looking around, and I could tell she was afraid to run into anyone she knew.
I kept my eyes on the crowd as we wandered along, noting with satisfaction that Amy was getting quite a bit of attention from the male crowd. Checking her reaction, I saw that she was totally oblivious to their attentions. Typical.
My plan quickly unfolded in my mind, and I led Amy into a popular store for the girls and young women. Inside, she tried on several skirts and tops, and I told her to pick out a skirt and two tops to go with it. She did, choosing a denim skirt and two short sleeved T-shirts. I forbade her to pick anything like that and sent her to look again.
When she returned that time, she had a short black skirt, a long sleeved blue stretch top and a sleeveless white thing that hung from her shoulders but nicely showed off her breasts.
With a smile I paid cash for her new clothes, and then took her into a shoe store, where she was much more confident, choosing a pair of black leather pumps with a pointed toe. Satisfied, I paid and took her next to Victoria’s Secret.
I bought her two sets, one a black lace bra and panty set with garter belt and matching stockings, the other a white camisole and panty set. Again, as is my way I paid cash.
We walked out into the mall and I asked Amy if she was hungry. She said yes, and I told her we’d grab a quick bite at the food court after she had gone into the lady’s bathroom and changed into her new clothes. I was left with one bag, containing the white camisole and panty set and the white top, and Amy took the rest with her.
She was gone for about twenty minutes as I smoked in the mall (ah, the good old days), and when she came out it was breathtaking.
She was striding confidently toward me, her blond hair flying around her shoulders. The blue top seemed to be painted onto her, her new bra holding her ample bosom out proudly. Her skirt hugged her hips and came to mid-thigh, where her gorgeous stocking-clad legs came into view and ended at her petite little feet in the pumps. To say that she was turning heads would be a criminal understatement.
An aside, if you don’t mind, but why is it that women never seem to know that most of them do indeed look like cover models when they take the time to dress up and show some confidence? A 190 pound woman who has care in her appearance and dress and a confident attitude can be one hell of a lot more sexy than a 110 pound girl with a knockout body and a crappy attitude. Sorry. Now, to continue;
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