Bomb Threat

I knelt in front of my boyfriend and pushed his knees apart. The bulge in his blue jeans seemed to be calling me. I wanted his cock inside me. He could do whatever he pleased with my body. Ass-fuck me. Cum on my face. I didn't care. As long as he shoved his dick inside me.

I slid my hands up his thighs and unbuttoned his pants. Pulling on his zipper, my pussy began to ooze. The breeze from the air condition vent teased my wet pussy. My nipples stood straight up. I was ready to suck him dry.

"Goddamn it, bitch," he said.

He shoved me back. I landed hard on my ass. My head almost went through the TV screen.

"Would you get the fuck out of the way?" he asked. "Can't you see I'm watching wrestling?"

I was stunned. The son-of-a-bitch would rather watch two lugs play-fight than get a blowjob from his loving girlfriend.

"Awww," I whined. "When we gonna fuck? I'm horny."

"Let me check my schedule," he said.

He set the remote control on the arm of the recliner and, without getting up, shuffled through the mess on the end table. After spilling half a beer on the floor and upsetting a bowl of popcorn, he unearthed a TV Guide. He opened it and ran his finger down the side of the page.

"Let's see," he said. "After wrestling, the Terminator movies are playing back to back on HBO. Then 'The Simpsons' come on at 10:30. After that, I'll have to watch the news to see who won the hockey game. Maybe I can squeeze you in when the news is over. But it's going to be late. I may be ready for bed."

He shot me a complacent grin. He knew that he paid the bills in our apartment and I didn't have a job and I had to follow his rules if I wanted to stay there. I used the only weapon I had left -- I cried.

It didn't work.

"Would you get out of here with that shit?" he asked. "Just get the fuck out. I can't deal with this shit today."

"Fine," I said, slapping my hand on the rug. "I'm leaving for the rest of the day."

"Good," he said. "Finally, I'll get some peace and quiet."

Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I ran into the bedroom and slammed the door. I was so pissed. Well, this time he wasn't getting away with it. I decided to give him a TV show he'd never forget.

I slipped on a slutty dress I wore back when I worked at the strip club. The neon green fabric barely covered me. My tits nearly burst out of the top. All I had to do to show off some pussy was bend over the right way. I laid on the eye make up and lipstick a little thicker than usual and headed for the door.

On the way out, I stopped in the living room to get the cell phone and the keys. My boyfriend did a double-take when he saw me.

"Where the fuck are you going dressed like that?" he asked.

I grinned.

"To the mall," I said.

He seemed bewildered, but I didn't take the time to explain my plans to him. Besides, I wanted to surprise him. I stomped out, my heels click-clacking on the floor.

"But it's six o'clock on Sunday!" he yelled, as I slammed the front door. "The mall is closed!"

Pretending I didn't hear him, I straddled his motorcycle and revved the engine. I saw through the window that he was running for the front door. His blue and pink Kawasaki Ninja was his most prized possession. No one could touch it. Not even me. But before he could tell me to get off, I zipped down the street.

I was at the mall in five minutes. The parking lot was deserted, except for a few employees' cars. I went around back and parked behind a Dumpster, next to the back door of The Record Rack.

The first step was to call the TV station on the cell phone.

"Hello, WXYX news hotline," the reporter said.

"Listen close motherfucker," I said. "There's a bomb at the mall. It's inside The Record Rack. It's going to blow in 10 minutes. Come to the back door if you want to see the explosion."

"Wow!" the reporter said. "Sounds like a hot story! Who are you? Why are you doing this?"

"That will become clear very soon," I said.

I shut off the phone and, with a snicker, stuck it back in my purse. Now I had to act fast. Ten minutes to get naked and get a dick inside me. I knocked on The Record Rack door.

I knew who was inside. My ex-boyfriend, the assistant manager of The Record Rack, always closed up shop on Sunday nights. He answered the door looking hotter than ever. The long black hair hung to his shoulders. Even in his work T-shirt, you could see he was built. The sleeves squeezed his biceps. He smiled when he saw me.

"Hi," he said. "Wow, you look great. What are you doing here?"

"Look, I don't have a lot of time," I said. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," he said.

As he held open the door, I glided in, deliberately brushing his cock with my hand. We were in the stock room. A Marilyn Manson poster hung above a small black-and-white TV tuned to wrestling on WXYX. I swear -- men are all the same.

"Leave the door open," I said. "I need fresh air."

He kicked a wooden wedge under the door.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"I'm gonna have to go away for a while," I said. "I won't be able to see you, and..."

I stared longingly into his eyes and made a tear fall down my cheek.

"And what?" he asked, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "You can tell me anything. You know that."

"And I wanted to be with you one more time," I said.

He took me into his arms and put his mouth on mine. I kissed him hard, slipping my tongue between his lips. He grabbed my ass and squeezed.

Behind me, I heard the news anchor break in on the wrestling program.

"This just in," the anchor said. "An unidentified caller has told WXYX that a bomb has been planted at ---"

"Ooooh baby!" I moaned. "I want you to fuck me like an animal."

I fell to my knees and found myself looking at a giant bulge, twice as big as I'd remember. My pussy drooled. I pulled open his pants, popping off the button off and ripping the zipper asunder. When his boxers came down, his dick sprang up.

My lips wrapped around the head. He grabbed me by my blonde hair and forced me to take the whole thing. It was so good I didn't even gag. My head bobbed madly. I knew it was the last time I'd suck his dick, and I wanted to make it memorable.

The precum seeped into my mouth. It made me even hornier and I sucked harder. I couldn't wait to take his whole load.

His grip on my hair tightened. For a second, I thought he was going to pull it out. As his knees trembled, I whipped my head back and let him cum on my face. The first load hit my mouth. Then he messed up my hair, tits, cheeks and chin. I never a knew a man could hold so much jizz in his balls.

The anchor on TV was saying: "We're now preparing to take you live to the scene where we believe a bomb may soon explode. Our reporter should be ready with a live report any second now."

My ex was pulling up his pants.

"No!" I yelled. "Not yet! I want it in the ass!"

I tore off my dress and got on the tiled floor in the doggie style position. I made sure I was facing the parking lot, so I could watch for the news truck. My ex grabbed me by the hips and put his cock on my puckered asshole. I felt it slide in slowly. His rod was so big! It really stretched my hole. I reached between my legs and slid a finger in my pussy.

My ex was pumping slowly. But I wanted him in a tizzy, really working my ass when the TV crew showed up. My boyfriend needed an image he'd never forget.

"Harder!" I screamed. "Fuck my ass! Punish me!"

He slammed his cock into me hard. I think he hit a kidney. But it hurt soooo good. The pace picked up, too. H was going hard and fast when the TV truck squealed to a stop.

I started moaning as loud as I could.

"Oooooh, yeah!" I said. "Treat me like the little slut I am!"

A camera man jumped out of the truck and trained his lens on us. The reporter came out next. I looked at the TV. There we were -- live on the air, my tits flopping as my ex-boyfriend ass-rammed me. My ex had his eyes closed and was groaning. He was so into it, he had no idea his sexual exploits were being broadcast across the Stateline area. His pumps shortened, he tensed and he came. I felt his jizz shoot deep inside me. I think his cum went through my intestines and filled my stomach because I wasn't hungry for hours after that.

The TV guys stood there, stunned, unable to switch back to normal programming. The whole thing had been caught on tape and they were still rolling. I looked into the camera and smiled at my boyfriend with my cum-filled face.

"That was for you, baby!" I yelled.

After the TV crew switched back to the wrestling show, I wiped off my face with my ex's pants, then pulled my dress back on. Everyone was so shocked, they didn't know what to say.

They didn't have to say anything. They'd put the pieces together eventually. I jumped on the motorcycle and headed for L.A. I laid low for a few months and changed my name to avoid the cops.

When things cooled off, a girlfriend of mine helped get me a tape of the news broadcast. I sent it to a porno company. The execs got hot over it and offered me a contract for a series of movies: "Naked News," episodes 1-10.

Now, I'm a rich porn star. You may have seen my movies. I'll never have to rely on a boyfriend for a place to stay -- or sex ever -- again.