Author's note: this story is a sequel to "Mr. Jackson Marks Marie," but may be read independently.
Over the next few days, Marie couldn't get her encounter with Mr. Jackson out of her head. Every night she replayed the way he'd battered her petite pussy with his gigantic cock while holding her hair and growling filthy things in her ear. She longed to feel the slap of his hand across her ass again. She needed to be manhandled. Taken.
Her boyfriend Shawn was of no use in that regard, and besides, Mr. Jackson had made her promise not to fuck Shawn again without his explicit permission. So far, she had kept her promise. At first it wasn't very hard. Shawn had never really satisfied her, even though she found him physically attractive. He was just a little too passive for her liking.
After more than a week without hearing from the Jackson family, Marie was beginning to get desperate. Sure, she could make herself cum, but it wasn't enough. She was worried. What if Mr. Jackson had come clean and told his wife everything? What if they'd found another babysitter and she'd never see him again?
Friday afternoon came and went without the Jacksons calling her to babysit. She was beginning to get depressed, and horny beyond belief. When Shawn called and asked her if she wanted to go out that night, she eagerly agreed. What was the use in resisting any further? She needed to be fucked, even if she knew it wouldn't satisfy her. Anything was better than nothing.
Shawn picked her up and they went to his house. His parents were out for the night, so they were all alone. They watched a movie together and cuddled on the couch. It was clear what Shawn wanted, and Marie was finally ready to give it to him. But she had to try and see if she couldn't get him to be a tad dirtier.
"Look at that girl," she said, indicating the female protagonist in the movie, "she's dressed like a total slut. Someone needs to teach her a lesson."
Shawn chuckled.
"What kind of lesson?"
"I dunno," said Marie, cuddling in closer to him, "I think a good spanking for starters."
She took his hand and moved it to her ass as she cuddled him. He just held it there, cupping her ass cheek, saying nothing. Totally clueless.
She kissed him and rubbed her tits against his chest.
"You feeling horny baby?" she whispered.
"Oh yes," he said, guiding her hands to his package.
"I'm going to be a bad girl for you tonight, Shawn," she whispered.
"What do you mean? What are you going to do?"
"Whatever you want me to do," she said.
"Um, give me a blowjob?"
"Why don't you make me do it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Take control. Make me give you what you want."
"But I can't do that!" he protested, "I love you."
"I want you to," she pleaded, "I need it."
"I'd like a blowjob please," he said, trying to sound authoritative.
His voiced seemed passionless, almost frightened. Oh how she longed for Mr. Jackson!
"Oh yeah?" said Marie, "what if I don't want to give you one?"
"I guess," he hesitated, "I guess you don't have to then."
She sighed.
"No, don't worry, I'll give you one," she said, kissing him sweetly.
They made out for a few minutes, then he fingered her until she faked an orgasm.
She sank her head into his lap and did her duty. After swallowing his cum, she went to the bathroom where she bent over the sink, rubbing her clit until she reached orgasm.
"Fuck me Mr. Jackson," she whispered, "take my little pussy, it's yours!"
When she emerged from the bathroom, she had a smile on her face.
"You can take me home now Shawn," she said.
When they pulled up in her parents' driveway, Marie's heart skipped a beat. Mr. Jackson's car was parked where her mother's car usually went.
"Looks like your parents have company," said Shawn, kissing her goodnight.
"Um, yeah," said Marie, faking nonchalance.
"Goodnight," he said.
"Goodnight," she said, slamming the car door behind her, her heart racing as she walked up the steps and turned her key in the lock.
There was light, laughter and the sound of the television set coming from the downstairs den.
"Marie?" called her father, when he heard the door, "is that you?"
She didn't respond. Her heart was pounding too hard at the prospect that Mr. Jackson might be in her house, watching TV with her father. What would she say to him?
"Marie," called her dad, "come downstairs and say hi!"
She walked to the edge of the stairs, then took them one at a time, feeling the moistness between her legs spread. Oh god, she thought, he's down there, isn't he?
When she turned the corner and entered the basement den, her father and Mr. Jackson looked up at her from the couch in front of the TV set. They were watching a basketball game together.
"Hey honey," said her dad, "I thought you'd like to say hi to Mr. Jackson. He came over to watch the game."
"Hi Mr. Jackson," she mumbled, barely able to meet his gaze.
"Hi Marie," he said, "I haven't seen you since the barbeque! How've you been?"
"Fine."
"How's that boyfriend of yours? Shane? No – Shawn?"
"Shawn," she said, "he's fine."
"What did you two do tonight?" asked her dad.
"Just watched TV at his place."
"Ha ha," laughed Mr. Jackson, "I know what that means at your age."
"That's all we did, honest," mumbled Marie, blushing and looking at the floor, "it was nice to see you."
She turned and left the room, heading up to her bedroom. She closed the door and lay back on her bed. The mere sight of the handsome older man had gotten her wet again, and the sound of his voice had made her almost lose control entirely.
She kicked off her shoes and pulled her panties down her legs partway so her clit and pussy were accessible. With one hand she reached under her sundress and played with her nipples while the other hand raced across her clit.
She was on the verge of coming, imagining herself under Mr. Jackson, when she heard the sound of a car in the driveway.
He's gone, she thought to herself. On the one hand, she was relieved. Having Mr. Jackson in her house made the sexual tension almost impossible to take.
On the other hand she was disappointed. Shouldn't he have at least tried to see her? Had she done something wrong? Was she just a one-time fling for him and nothing more?
Just then, the hinges of her bedroom door creaked. A shot of adrenaline coursed through her body.
"Hey!" she yelled, thinking that for some unfathomable reason her father had opened her door without knocking.
But even through her haze of arousal and surprise, she discerned that the intruder was not in fact her father, but rather Mr. Jackson.
"But –, you –," she was stammering uncontrollably. "just left," she said, frantically trying to pull her panties up and cover herself.
"That was your Dad's car," he said, matter-of-factly, as he stepped all the way inside the room and shut the door behind him.
"He should be gone for a while. He's picking up some beers for us at the grocery store. By the way," – he unbuckled his belt – "does he know what a slut he raised?"
