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He Shoots, He Scores!

You have been watching me for who knows how long, taking in my every movement, relishing in the sound of my voice. You pride yourself in the distance you've been able to keep for so long, and in the silent admiration from afar that awakens a slow-burning flame of desire with each encounter... desire that makes your trousers feel two sizes too small and takes every ounce of your self-control to subdue.

But tonight is the night that you claim what you believe is rightfully yours. You want to hear my begs rolling off my tongue in desperate little gasps of pleasure, moaning for more of you like my very existence depends upon it. And it's only a matter of time before you get just what it is that you want.

After a night well spent with my fellow shopaholic girlfriends, I bid them farewell as they all climb into their cars. They each insist on giving me a ride home, but I refuse. I live within walking distance of the mall, so there's no need for me to take up time and gas money when I have a perfectly functional pair of legs.

Thus I begin my trek home, humming happily along the way and completely oblivious to your tall, dark figure slowly trailing behind me. Your hood is pulled over your head in a way that casts a shadow over your facial features. Your hands are deep within your pockets, tingling with anticipation at what is to come.

As I continue walking, I turn my head to the left and look through the silhouettes of the trees that tower above me. I am pleasantly surprised; this is one of those rare summer nights when the concert pavillion isn't blasting live music for countless spectators. It looks dark and desolate, and I am tempted to go explore it. But I know better than to endanger myself with dusk quickly giving way to the night.

I still have yet to sense your presence.

You have been keeping an eye on the cars whilst following me, and you recognize the oncoming lull in traffic due to the slight falter of the lights. You realize this as one of your few chances to take me before I reach the safety and comfort of my home, where my parents are idly waiting for me.

And you take the chance.

At once, your muscular arm is around my waist, and the wind is knocked out of my lungs. It takes me a few moments to respond and you hear my sharp intake of breath. With a knowing scoff, you lean your tall frame down and growl into my ear, letting your lips ghost against the sensitive skin of my lobe.

"Don't you dare."

Your low voice stops me right in my tracks and my breath hitches in my throat.

With a low chuckle and a grope of my firm ass with your free hand, you say, "Good girl."

I gasp at the feeling of your large hands clamped on my soft skin, hurting me even through my clothing. With a groan you continue your assault on my rump, forcefully rubbing it and grasping it in your hand. I don't feel your other hand creeping downwards until it's too late and you begin roughly rubbing me through my clothing. I whimper, a sound you've been longing to hear from me for a long time.

"You afraid of me, sweet cheeks? Hmm?" you taunt me, slapping my bottom hard with the use of your pet name. I moan, a small noise of defenseless pain, and it excites you even further. "Mmm," you croon, delighted at how your ministrations are already affecting me. "You like this?" Again, you slap me, harder than before, and my resulting moan is louder still.

I'm embarrassed beyond belief, and my cheeks flush caramel in chagrin. "P-please...let g-go of me?" It comes out as more of a question than a demand.

You almost burst out laughing at how pathetic I'm being. You had expected me to put up more of a struggle, to give you some fighting spirit that you could crush mercilessly. Frankly, you are shocked. But this will do too. In fact, it will do quite nicely.

You let go of my now sore bottom and turn your attention to the woods beside us, grabbing my tiny hands in your monstrous ones and dragging me towards the pavilion. "Now, why would I do something as silly as that?" you half-murmur in a distracted tone.

I open my mouth to reply, to plead with you, but I find myself shoved against tree bark, legs open and lips stolen in an eager kiss. You explore my mouth with your tongue while your hands begin roaming over my body once more, this time with an affinity to my small breasts beneath my shirt. The A cup mounds fit completely beneath your hands; you squeeze them hard and my jaw drops in a silent moan. You take the opportunity to deepen the kiss, denying me the air I desperately need. At last, you relent and part from my swollen lips, letting me gasp for air like a suffocating fish. You smirk and nibble at my bottom lip gently while slowly removing the offensive barriers between you and your goal.

It is then that I truly fathom the severity of the situation.

"No. No! Please, don't touch me there. Oh God, no. No!" I scream and begin thrashing around in a futile attempt to throw you off of my small frame.

You groan with satisfaction. "Oh yesss," you whisper in my ear, shoving me back against the rough bark of the tree. "There's what I've been waiting for. Gimme more, baby."

I feel your fingers come in contact with my delicate region and again I panic and try to flee. In the process I somehow managed to impale myself on your finger. I gasp in shock at the painful sensation.

"Fuck! You're so damn wet it's flowing out of you like a river, sweet cheeks. Why is that?" you ask mischievously as you guide your finger in and out of me ever so slowly. "Hm? Ohhh fuck." Your eyes flutter at the sight of the expression on my face: pure terror and tantalizing pleasure.

I am unable to say anything to you any longer. My eyes are squeezed shut and my mouth is slightly ajar, labored breaths escaping from my parted lips. You take your finger out of me and slowly bring it to my lips. My eyes shoot open in horror.

"Suck it."

Immediately I purse my lips in defiance of such a demeaning act.

You grab me by the back of my neck and pull my face to yours, still keeping that finger of yours at my lips. I can feel the warm liquid and it makes me sick.

"I said, SUCK IT."

When I don't respond, you slap my ass harder than ever with a menacing growl. Like putty being molded at your will, I moan for you again, just like you knew I would. You stick your finger in my mouth and the sweet taste of my own juices coats my tongue. My body barely suppresses its gag reflex as you begin guiding your finger as slowly as before...

You chuckle. "I bet you taste delicious, huh?" you say as you retreat from my mouth . "But now it's my turn to taste your sweet little kitten," you purr as you lightly pinch the shy little bud between my legs.

My knees buckle, just like you knew they would, and you get down on the ground, pulling me on top of you so that I'm straddling you. With a smirk you hoist me up by the waist and force me to put myself upon your face. Tears of humiliation are streaming down my face now when I realize what you're about to do. You lick your lips and wipe my tears away with your thumbs, looking me straight in the eyes. You love what you see: complete and utter fear with a sprinkle of defeat.

Tentatively, you dart your tongue out at my core, and I tighten my muscles and throw my head back in despair. My whimpers of distress are back and I cannot keep the tears from returning. You gently shush me and bring head back down so that we're looking each other in the eyes again. You want to see every single expression that flits across my features as you lap at my river of juices, the river that you created.

Again, you dart your tongue out. I shut my eyes and bite down hard on my lip, subconsciously denying you the pleasure of witnessing the extent of my internal war.

"No. Open your eyes, baby. I want to watch you. I want to see just how good I'm making you feel," you growl.

I sense your anger returning and I do my best to spare myself from it. My eyes shoot open but I don't look down at you. Instead I look straight ahead with the best blank stare I can muster. Truth be told, my body was on fire, screaming for more. A thin layer of sweat is forming on my skin. Your tongue is all I can think about as you mercilessly pleasure me. You know exactly how to make me tick and I almost find myself giving in and begging you for more, but I barely stop myself.

That is, until you deviously begin sucking on that same shy, little bud.

I lose it. I scream. There are shockwaves of pleasure rippling through my body, tingling in my fingers and toes. I can't seem to stop screaming with delight at these sensations. I'm so preoccupied that I don't notice you've wrestled and pinned me down beneath you.

"God damn. I fucking love your voice. You know that? Fuck. I need you to scream like that again," you say shamelessly as you unbuckle and unbutton your pants.

What you get in turn is a different kind of screaming. "No! Please! Don't take my virginity from me! I beg of you! P-please let me at least have some dignity." I say the last part quietly, still shaking from the intensity of my previous climax.

With a low chuckle, you caress my cheeks, lit up in a blush the color of butterscotch. "I didn't know black women could blush," you mutter almost to yourself. Slowly, your attention travels downward, and you stop at my midsection. You lean down and plant the softest of kisses on my stomach, and I shudder against your lips. "Soon," you say, "the fruit of your womb will be plump, ripe with my seed."

And before I have a chance to process what has come out of your mouth, your impressive organ is deep within me, slamming against my virginal walls. I feel like I'm being ripped apart. The screams that rip from my throat barely sound human. You don't care about any of that though. You look down at me with those cold and calculating eyes, your hands gripping my narrow hips tightly, thrusting your length into me and out with frightening strength and speed.

I can feel the tears you are causing, and they hurt so much that fresh wave of tears spills from my eyes. Animalistically, you lean over and lick them away, then wrap your arms around my entire body so you can shift your angle of penetration. With each painful thrust I release a pathetic grunt of discomfort. You just look down at me and smile.

You last a long time, and it is several torturous minutes later that you lean your head over and whisper disturbing obscenities in my ear about how "fucking amazing" my "cunt feels" and how I'm going to "milk all this fucking baby batter" right into myself "like the sweet little temptress" I am. I am full-fledged crying by now, in utter humiliation. I think that is what sends you over the edge.

With exceptionally violent thrusts of your member and a low groan saturated with arousal, a hot liquid is spurting into me at a remarkable speed, and my body seems to lap it up as though I am internally dehydrated. I harmonize your guttural groan with a shriek of pain when your hot fluids sting my internal injuries.

Exhausted and praying for the appearance of the grim reaper, I fade out of consciousness, but not before you give me one last ravaging kiss, a smirk of satisfaction on your face.

The last thing I hear is, "And he shoots, he scores!"

And then it all went black.

~HAPPY WORLD CUP EVERYONE!!~

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