*author's note: this piece has been co-authored with
Grey Timber
* * * * *
There's a party planned for tonight...it's been dubbed the "politically incorrect" party. The invitation bears only these instructions: "Dress inappropriately."
She has chosen her costume with great care. Crisp, white button-down shirt, khaki skirt, white knee socks, and brown Mary Janes. Her chin-length hair has been pulled neatly into a set of impossibly perky pigtails. She's wearing very little makeup - most notably the slick roll-on lip gloss she remembers from high school. She's 20, almost 21, but in this outfit she could easily pass for 15. She checks herself in the mirror, smoothes down a stray lock of hair, and heads for the party.
The door is answered by a guy she vaguely knows. He's dressed as the jizz mopper from Clerks. She gives him her coat and heads for the first floor room where her friends will be.
"You're a schoolgirl? Very cute," says a girl she doesn't recognize.
Her best guy friend emerges from his room to find her in the hallway. "No way - you aren't nearly naughty enough," he says. "You look way too innocent. It's a PI party, after all." He begins to unbutton her shirt, leaving only one button fastened, right in the middle of her chest. "Roll up your skirt."
She rolls the waistband once, bringing the skirt up about an inch. "Again," he demands, the vigilant costumer. Another roll in the waistband brings the skirt up again. "Now turn around and bend forward." She does, and he smiles in appreciation at the hint of white panties. Lipstick borrowed from a woman in the hall adds the flush of sex to her smooth cheeks, and he presses a drink into her hand, sending her upstairs to the party with satisfaction.
Conversation stops as she hits the second floor. The guys have never seen her this way, and the hints of nudity stir them to a near frenzy. She works the floor, stopping to chat with everyone she knows, a dynamic, naughty little girl confident in the attention she's receiving.
It is later. The party has moved to the third floor, darkened and noisy with music from several rooms. She finds herself surrounded by a grotesque circus of drunken revelers, including a Holocaust survivor, a dead baby, an abortion doctor, Fidel Castro, a dominatrix, and a guy who appears to be emulating Hugh Hefner.
Later still. The flush on her cheeks is now real, borne of alcohol, heat, and lust. Desire is palpable in the air, and she's becoming a more brazen tease as the night wears on.
One of her guy friends, dressed in a tuxedo jacket and a pair of black underwear, has her pressed against the wall, hands on her hips as he mock-fucks her from behind. People are watching, laughing...it's all in fun. He's already said that he's clearly dressed as a pervert. Someone tries to get his attention and he declines, saying, "In a minute...I'm busy taking this schoolgirl up the ass right now." It's a great joke, they think.
They have no idea how badly she wants that - how hot it's making her to feel strong hands on her hips, her cheek pressed against the coolness of the wall, the grinding of his cock against her ass, the slick wetness in her panties.
They can see those panties as the skirt rides up during their lewd display. They cannot, however, see what she feels - that his cock is actually hard from this little game. It's driving her insane. If only he knew...in her current state, she'd fuck him right here in this hallway, in front of all these people.
Someone finally pulls him away, laughing. She's giggling, disheveled - flushed cheeks, locks of hair beginning to slip from the pigtails, one knee sock slipping down her leg. She has no idea how many of those in attendance are fantasizing about fucking her right now.
You are among them. She doesn't know you, hasn't noticed you - you're unobtrusive in the dim light of the hallway, standing back from the more exuberant partygoers. You have seen her desire glowing in her eyes.
She stumbles from the center of the crowd. She needs to find a bathroom. The ones on the third floor are occupied, and someone sends her downstairs, to the deserted second floor. You head down a back staircase to meet her.
When she emerges from the restroom a few minutes later, you are waiting for her by the door. Her judgment is off...she is taken completely by surprise as you grab her from behind, covering her mouth.
Within instants she is pressed against the wall again, in an imitation of the panorama she presented upstairs. Only this time, it is you restraining her, and you're not playing a game.
She is scared - you can feel her trembling in your grip - but she makes no attempt to escape you. When you're satisfied that she won't fight, won't scream, your hand leaves her mouth and ventures down, under the skirt, over the panties. You can feel her moisture soaking through the smooth satin.
She is completely shaven. Somehow this doesn't surprise you. You don't speak as you tease her pussy with your fingertips, exploring her swollen clit, the heat of her sex. You can't believe how wet she is, how she's already pushing back toward you, silently begging for your fingers to fill her cunt. Your fingers caress, torment...and finally, thrust inside her. She arches against you with a power you weren't expecting, a long, soft moan escaping her lips.
You have to have her. You flip her little skirt up over her ass, pull her panties to the side, and enter her in one smooth motion. She's tight, her pussy clenching at you already, even during this initial penetration, and she's trying desperately to be quiet with very little success. Her wetness coats her inner thighs as you repeatedly thrust into her, gradually picking up speed until she's writhing in your powerful grip, biting her lip, trying not to scream.
And then, you pull out, and she whimpers in frustration. She was so close...
Are you going to fuck her ass now?
******************
In his mind are those darker desires, those fantasies he's been cherishing so long, those perverted desires of wanting to be a thirty year old superintendent, handsome and respected, yet living a secret life, fucking the young girls of his school, or darker still, to be a father, taking the sexual education of his daughter into his own incestuous hands.
One hand encircles your waist, rising up under your shirt, casting outward against the only button still fastened. It pops off, leaving your shirt cast open. He clutches a full breast, kneading it under strong hands, finding a nipple through the white lace bra and pinching it sharply so that your breath sucks in.
He searches deep inside his mind, finding the rage of a father who has just caught his daughter indecently teasing a boy amongst a crowd of people, grasping her by her arm and propelling her to the car, racing home and storming inside with her then spinning her around in anger, assuring her that he is going to show her what happens when she dresses like this, when she lets boys fondle her in public. You know nothing of the struggle in his mind. You cannot fathom the lust that you have instilled in him.
His left hand continues molesting your breast while his right slides down your waist, feeling the arch of your back, tracing the line of your ass as you thrust it against him. His fingers slip behind you and underneath, cupping your pussy, feeling the come still oozing from you, thrusting two and then three fingers into your quivering cunt, still contracting in disappointment at the sudden exit of his cock. His fingers draw your come from you, cupping and carrying the slippery fluid upward into the deep crease of your ass, rubbing firmly into you, a finger slipping easily and instantly into your anus.
He has always wanted this opportunity. He's finally found himself in the position to teach his daughter while giving in to the lust he has for his own little girl. Your sweet, tight little pussy felt so good on his incestuous cock. His fingers leave your ass and dive underneath again to your dripping cunt. He strokes your lips softly, groaning in pleasure at their smooth, hairless texture. Two and then three fingers again thrust into you and you cry out and fuck back against his hand.
He is aware that you don't know his thoughts, that you don't realize that in his mind, you are his daughter. He decides to change that. His fingers leave your quivering sex and again slide up into your ass, feeling the flesh pinch his fingers inward, thrusting into you. You gasp in shock as not one but two fingers, slippery smooth with your come, pop into your tightly clenching anus. He strokes them in and out of you, happy with the ease with which your darkened orifice takes his fingers. Then he leans into you, his breath hot on your ear.
"Daddy's gonna fuck your tender young ass now, sweetheart."
He wonders what this statement does to you. He wonders if it sends fear through you, perhaps disgust at the role that he has taken. But perhaps, just perhaps, you are further excited by the incestuous taboo and the knowledge that you are about to take your daddy's cock deep inside your tightly clenching anus.
He pulls his fingers out and is deeply pleased to hear your disappointed moan. He smiles and in his mind he knows you won't have to wait long.
His hand, slippery wet with come and the faintest heady aroma of your ass, clutches his cock, sliding up and down over its length, lubricating it further. Then he positions the swollen head at your tightly clenched anus, grasps your throat with his free hand, tilting your head back, squeezing just enough to remind you that you are under his control, and leans into you.
His slippery cock head pops instantly into your anus and he holds it there and you scream. You cry out and tell him that it's too much, but he doesn't believe you. He holds it there, letting it pulse with pumping blood inside your anus. His hand on your throat pulls your head back further, arching your body against his invading cock. His lips are at your ear again.
