Jessie

Don't matter where we sleep, don't matter where we park

All we need is a spark, spark, Spark In The Dark

- Spark In The Dark, Alice Cooper

"Ok, you've got a full mag, one up...er, one in the chamber. You're ready to fire." I stepped back and watched McKenna steady herself both physically and mentally, and then squeeze through the trigger. The stubby little gun barked, twisted up in her hands slightly, and she pushed it forward again, hammering out another shot.

It was Tuesday, and I was making good on my guarantee to take McKenna to the range. I was still exhausted from the weekend, from watching over Sienna eight hours a day in addition to work, from having a kid in the house and constantly underfoot, but a promise was a promise. I'd gotten home from the bank this evening, showered and changed into street clothes, and let the petite programmer sort through my safe for what she wanted to bring. After explaining to her that the smaller, "cute" pistols had more recoil than the big ones, she had picked out a surprising variety, I'd added a few, and we'd headed out to the quarry.

The quarry was owned by Don Jackson, a local construction company magnate, who, left with a big hole in the ground, an interest in competitive shooting, and a desire to make money from the two, had lined most of the inside of the pit with piles of old tires and rented it out to pistol shooting clubs in the Milwaukee area. It was open year-round to any of the members, and though it was a haul to drive that far out of the city, it occasionally made for a relaxing trip to engage in some ballistic therapy.

I watched Mick - er, Kenna - lean forward into the recoil and, with greater confidence, pound out the rest of the magazine.

All while keeping the green-apple sucker tucked in the corner of her mouth.

She was kind of cute to watch, and she knew it. Five-foot two, and a hundred and fifteen pounds in her late twenties, she looked like she'd aged until about sixteen or seventeen and then just STOPPED. And today she was playing that illegally youthful look up with sandals, a short denim skirt, a lime-green polo, and her long cocoa hair tied up in pigtails. At least she wasn't wearing something low cut that would let hot brass fall between those full, heavy tits. Probably Jessie's idea.

I thought back to my first day on the range with my gothic lover. Yup, Jessie's idea.

Gravel ground behind me, and I looked back at the gate to see a familiar yellow Escalade drive through and pull up at a nearby lane of tires. Don got out and strode over, a black box in his hand. "Gary, how's it hangin'?"

I shook his free hand. "Doing alright, you?"

"Just fine, just fine. Who's the lady?"

McKenna had the presence of mind to keep the gun pointed downrange, but I could tell she didn't know how to dispose of it, so I took it and kept it angled in a safe direction while I set it on the table. She reached out to shake Don's hand, and he brought it to his lips instead for a quick peck. She giggled nervously, rolled the sucker to the other side of her mouth. "McKenna Krossley. And you are?"

"Don, I own this fine establishment. Friend of Gary's?"

"Yeah, he's teaching me how to shoot."

He squinted downrange at the sheet of paper. "Sure you haven't done this before?"

McKenna glanced at me questioningly, then back to Don. "Just enough to know which is the naughty end."

That earned her a chuckle. "Well, keep it up. Pleasure to meet you. I've gotta go sight in."

The petite programmer watched him walk down the gravel driveway between lanes, then set up at a stall about fifty feet away. "Fuck, that man is gorgeous!" she hissed.

I glanced down the range at Don's table. "I've never looked at him that way." The man was an athlete, running and boxing and circuit training constantly - he'd actually introduced me to the boxing studio I attended, and the sleeveless shirts he wore for all but the absolutely coldest Wisconsin months showed off thick bulges and cords of muscle under his dark brown skin. He was BUILT.

"Those eyes," McKenna said dreamily.

"You little fox."

"I can't help it," she whined. "I see arms like that and I start imagining getting thrown around a bed."

I sighed. "C'mon, nympho. Back on target."

#####

The sun was setting and Don had left by the time we packed up. In the cab of the Suburban, I asked McKenna what she liked best. She thought back, rolling her neck to relieve the feeling of safety glasses and hearing protection. "Ummm, that matched pair. The big one and the smaller one."

"The Remington hi-caps? Seriously?"

She shrugged. "Trigger was nice. Recoil was... Soft. They weren't as loud as that little one of Jessie's."

Fair enough points. "You want'em?"

"What? Are you joking?"

"Not at all. I dabbled in the platform briefly. They're my only forty-fives. You like em better than I do. And I kinda owe you for saving my life."

"Ummm... Maybe? Not right now. I still don't know enough about them. A few more trips to the range, then yeah, maybe."

"Ok. I do have one thing you have to take though." I fished in the truck door pocket and came up with a small cloth bag, handed it to her.

McKenna regarded it cautiously. "What is it?"

"Open it and find out."

She picked at the drawstring, emptied the little sack out into one palm, then held the gold chain up, the cylinder dangling at the bottom, it's empty end set with a purple jewel. Her eyes were suspicious.

"Jessie still knows a couple of designers. That's the forty-four special cartridge you used to save my life. I know you like purple, so I had an amethyst set in the case mouth. I figured it might help you if you had a constant reminder that something good came out of that encounter."

The little programmer contemplated it for a while. "Wow. Thank you."

"Thank YOU, Kenna. Thank you for giving me today."

She snickered wryly. "That's a helluva better nickname than Mickey."

"Yeah, it doesn't bother me either. I'll probably still call you Mickey when you get on my nerves."

"Of course you will. Put it on me?" McKenna rotated on the seat, folding one leg under herself and turning her back to me. I clasped the lock behind her neck, and she pulled out her phone, pulled up the selfie camera to admire the necklace. "It's not exactly everyday jewelry."

I shrugged. "It could be."

She turned slightly, youthful face looking up at me. "Thank you, Gary."

I tilted my head down, kissed her soft lips gently, then more forcefully, gripping the back of her head as I added pressure, my tongue questing for hers. McKenna whimpered, relaxed, let me kiss her. "I seem to recall you asking for some occasional rough, hard-fucking," I growled at her when I pulled away, drawing out every word.

"Yes?" Her voice was small.

We kept kissing over her shoulder, more and more urgency building. My hands roamed from her shoulders down. She gasped when they slid roughly over her breasts and down her torso, then up under her polo to cup and squeeze. She was wearing some thin, lacy bralette underneath, and it did nothing to interfere with the sensations I was causing, lifting and kneading those heavy tits, pinching nipples to hardness through the flimsy fabric.

I slid one hand out from under her shirt, down across the front of her denim skirt. The small piece of fabric slid easily up as she lifted her butt off the seat, and I saw lacy pink panties, a dark spot of aroused moisture over the crotch. I traced her slit through the barely-there garment, circling around her clit, sliding down to press that wet spot against her entrance, teasing her delicate lips. She rolled her hips against my touch, and after a few more moments of driving her crazy, I shifted the gusset aside to expose her bald, wet pussy. This time I was less than gentle, pressing down on her little pleasure button and rubbing firm circles over it.

McKenna bucked, grinding her groin into my hand with sinuous shifts of the hips, her breathing hard and fast in between cries of enjoyment. A minute or two of stimulation later and she went over the edge, loudly, arching back against me, her lips pressing to mine frantically. I held her close as her breathing slowed and her body relaxed from the twitches that had been tightening her torso.

"Fuck..." she groaned, pulling away and straightening on the seat. "That was nice..."

I grinned. "I'm glad you liked it."

We looked at each other across the center for two beats, and then McKenna dove for my groin, fumbling with the button and zipper, getting them open, and finally pulling my hard rod out of my boxers and lifting it vertical. I could feel her breath hot on my sensitive skin, and the few experimental licks she took were soft and wet and gentle. "Fuck, this is a great dick," she whispered to herself.

Then she went down on me. As deep as she could go, up slightly, right back down, over and over, tongue sliding against me, head tossing side to side. She shifted position, stabilizing herself, lifting her ass in the air like I had her planted face down on a bed, and I took the opportunity to lean to my right and reach around her asscheek, slide two fingers under the strap of her panties. She coughed in surprise as I teased across her wet opening, then resumed gagging herself on my meat.

With two fingers of my right hand buried in McKenna's pussy, I rested on my left on her head, pressing her down and letting her up, guiding the depth and the length of time she spent with my meat in her mouth. When I let her up, she gasped, looking at me with a nasty look of lust in her eyes, sucking in air as she pumped slimy saliva up and down my shaft. "Get back down there," I commanded quietly.

She took her time, licking and fluttering her tongue against wet skin, top to bottom and back up again, kissing and nibbling around the glans before talking me between her lips and lowering her mouth around me. I felt her gag, cough, retch with my erection in the back of her throat and she half-swallowed forced herself further down. The wines and tightness weren't nearly as erotic as the knowledge that she was willingly choking herself on my dick. McKenna looked up at me out of the corner of her eye and her stretched-wide lips curled up fractionally at the corner in as much of a smile as she could muster, then bobbed her head a few times, pulled back with a gasp and a slurp.

I pulled the tiny programmer up by her neck, kissed her wet mouth. "Get in the back seat."

She scrambled to climb over the center console, and I followed, pushing my shorts and boxers down as I followed her. McKenna flopped back on the second-row bench seat, grinning up at me as she roughly squeezed her own breasts through her shirt, lifting one squat-muscled leg up to catch against a headrest.

Given my height and the fact that we were in a vehicle, it took a few scrambling moments to get us positioned right. McKenna laughed as I struggled to kick my shorts and boxers off one leg, stopped as I grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head, lowered myself on top of her. "You gonna be a good girl for me while I fuck you?"

She nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir."

"I don't believe you. You're a naughty little brat."

Her hips bucked up against my groin, and she tried to grind against me. "I will, I promise."

I fisted my erection, pressed the crown of it to her swollen, wet labia, her lacy little panties still pulled to the side. "This what you want?"

"Uh-huh."

I filled her in a slow, insistent press, and the look on her face told me both of us were enjoying the feel of that soaked tunnel stretching around me. "Fuck, that's good pussy," I whispered when fully seated.

"MY good pussy?"

"I don't give a shit, I just feel fantastic." McKenna liked to be insulted, objectified, called names during sex. She liked being thought of as a bad girl, being used. I could do that.

I kept her wrists pinned down to the cushion as I moved, and she arched her hips up with every thrust, using her foot on the floor to lever her pelvis up against mine for a delicious press every time I surged forward. Fuck, that felt amazing, filling her completely. She was one of the smallest women I'd ever had sex with, five two or thereabouts, compared to my six feet and change, and everything about her was just... Smaller. Tighter.

She was moaning with every stroke, struggling to free herself from my grip and my weight, and lifting her head to kiss at my face and neck and chest, whatever was within reach of her lips.

"Awww, is someone anxious to cum?" I taunted, slowing my thrusts to a painfully long drag.

"Yes please," McKenna replied pitifully. "Please let me cum, I need it..."

"Are you sure I should let you? Maybe this feels better for me, going slow like this."

"Mmmhmmm. You should let me cum." The youthful programmer nodded earnestly.

"And what are you gonna do for me in return?"

"Whatever you want."

I grinned. "Good girl, Kenna. Good girl." I kissed her and slammed forward, holding my hips against hers and carving back and forth, less thrusting and more grinding. She shrieked loudly into my mouth, and stiffened, eyes going wide, and the little tunnel I was embedded in clenched even tighter around my member. I kept her pinned down, kept thrusting as hard and as deep as I could despite the bucking and spasming going on beneath.

Fuck, she was hot. Sometimes I felt a twinge of guilt about our trysts - she looked so damn young. Jessie was a beautiful woman. McKenna looked like she should still be in high school.

She ground her head back into the cushion, tried flexing her wrists out of my grip to no avail, and I watched her come out of her orgasm-induced stupor, heaving chest slowing, eyes focusing on my face and traveling down to our joining, back up, her face lighting with a naughty smile. "So Gary, what is it you want? How can I repay this fantastic fucking?"

I stirred her wet channel with my prick, shifting and rotating my hips, changing the angle at which I drove into her for each thrust. "Right now? Hmmm..." I thought about it. "I want you to ride me."

"Really?" McKenna whined. "You don't want to be in charge?"

I laughed. "Oh, I'm always I'm charge." I pulled back, the warm summer air surprisingly cool on my penis now that it wasn't buried in slick, heated flesh. I sat, leaning back against the heavily padded seat as McKenna pulled her feet out from under me. She turned, and I guided her to straddle my lap, back to front. Extending her tongue, she licked her palm suggestively, reached down between her legs and wiped the moisture over her pussy lips, then gripped my already slippery member and guided it up into herself. She groaned as she settled down, feeling the stretch, the depth.

"This is what you wanted?"

I slid my hands up under the sides of her short denim skirt to grip her hips tightly, started guiding her up and down, setting the place for her to raise and lower herself on my cock. The change in angle felt fantastic, as did the little roll of the hips she gave me when she bottomed out on my lap."Oh yeah."

McKenna had been right about her familiarity with squats, with her hands on the ceiling or on the seatbacks ahead of us she kept bouncing her cute round ass on my groin far longer than I would've thought she'd be able to. The view was awesome - with her skirt bunched up around her waist and her panties stretched to the side, I got to watch her rise and descent upon my rod, and when she leaned forward, her cheeks parted to reveal wet lips and her dusky, wrinkled pucker.

She didn't do ALL the work though. Content as I was to watch McKenna bounce on my lap, I enjoyed watching her get off even more. I groped and squeezed her firm, round tits under her shirt, occasionally pinching or twisting the nipple slightly to add a brief surprise of stimulation. When her moans and little cries of pleasure started ramping up, I slid my hand down her taut stomach, over that cute denim skirt, to fiddle and press and rub at the apex of her soaked slot. The clit stimulation stopped her squatting on my prick almost instantly, and she tilted forward to grind and roll her hips, so wet now that the twisting and pressing squelched lewdly.

Dragging my hand out of her shirt, I grabbed McKenna by the throat, pulling her back, holding her still. She whined piteously, hips trying to grind back, legs opening and closing as she tried to bring herself to climax. "You gonna do what I say, Kenna?" I growled in her ear. "You gonna behave?"

"Y-yes?" Slowly, she stopped trying to squirm her way to orgasm on my lap.

"Good. Get off me and bend over, stick your ass out."

She rose from my lap, my erection slapping back to my stomach, then knelt on the seat beside me shoulders on the seatbacks, legs widespread, back arched at a ridiculous degree. One hand tugged the hem of her polo up over her hanging breasts so she could begin to knead them, the other reached back and pulled one buttcheek aside, pussy and asshole stretching slightly open. "Like this?"

I ducked in the cramped space, eased into her from behind, marveling at the way those wet lips parted to swallow my thick member. "Yeah, like that. I'm close."

"Uhhhhhnnnn..." McKenna groaned as I began moving. "You're gonna cum in me?"

One hand on her hip, holding her in place, I tangled my other hand in her hair, close to the scalp, and pulled her head back. "I'm gonna fucking fill you," I growled.

That was all it took for McKenna to come again. She shrieked and ground her ass back at me, trying to take my dick even a millimeter deeper inside her, and I pushed forward too, abandoning control to the sensations of slippery flesh compressing and releasing me. I felt my cock throb, the muscle spasms almost painfully hard as I pumped cum into her wet hole with each contraction. "Fuuuuuuck..."

I held myself hunched over her a long time, our breathing slowing, the heat radiating off our bodies almost intolerable in the still air of the Suburban.

"Wow." McKenna's voice was weak.

I pulled my softening prick from her slit and flopped down on the bench beside her, sliding my other foot into my shorts and pulling them up. "There are wet wipes in the center console," I informed her.

"Nah, I got this." McKenna took her pink lace underwear down her legs, slipping out and balling it up, pressing the little handful of fabric to her bald twat to soak up the fluid that was beginning to leak out. This done, she rolled over and flopped on the seat next to me, straightening her skirt to some semblance of modesty and looking up with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "I'll blow you if we can stop for Taco Johns on the way home.

"You'll blow me regardless, and we MIGHT stop for Taco Johns on the way home."

The petulantly pouty face she made was totally worth it.

###

Thursday

###

"Sienna actually took Jane out into the yard today," Jessie told me quietly. "Came down and helped me do dishes, then spent some time with the kid."

We were laying in bed together, me flat on my back, my pale, gothic lover on my chest, chin propped up on her hands. The sweat was still drying on our skin, our worn-out state the result of an intense session of spanking, followed by a blowjob nearly to completion. Completion had been found in Jessie's tight anus, bending her over the edge of the bed and hammering away against sore, bruised buttocks until I'd splashed her rectal walls with semen, repeatedly calling her a bad girl and a dirty slut for enjoying the sensation, for allowing "daddy" to defile her like this.

Yeah, she was kinky.

Now though, we were cuddling. McKenna was upstairs with Sienna and her daughter, watching over the two together now that the worst of the cold turkey oxycodone detox had passed. It was nice to get some time with my woman without having to worry about any of our three houseguests.