Amber's First Apartment

Daddy Mike stood up before he came and exploded all over my mouth and chin. He left right afterwards while I still knelt on the bed, cum dripping down onto my new black dress. There was a mild disbelief at how quickly I was used and discarded. God, why did I do this to myself again? Sighing, I threw the stained dress in my closet and changed into clean clothes.

That evening my boyfriend took me to the movies at the harbor.

We had a great time. Reclining seats and enough soda to give me another cavity. Back at my place we necked and six months into dating I finally let him get to second base, but only over my bra. He snuck a finger in and caressed my nipple. I know I was taking it slowly but everything else in my life happened way too fast and I didn't want to cheapen the experience. It was so incredibly erotic to let him make frustratingly slow progress. His eagerness radiated and I loved him. But then I got distracted and lost the moment.

Then the ugly happened. While we kissed I remembered that fat finger trying to slide into my ass. In retrospect it felt oddly pleasurable to be touched there but only while I had a cock in my mouth. It's not what I wanted to think about but I couldn't get it out of my head for rest of the evening because that's how my scattered brain worked.

On Sunday, my front door buzzed and I wasn't expecting anyone. Whoever it was, I buzzed them in and waited in nervous anticipation. Was it my boyfriend? A package delivery?

But no, Daddy Mike came over unannounced again. Oh god, I thought, two days in a row? Within seconds he asked me to put on the same dress from yesterday because it looked cute on me. He was always irrationally needy for me to dress sexy and I remembered how it felt demeaning because it told me that my own body wasn't enough for him. There was always something missing in his mind and it grated at me.

"Last time, you hear me?" I said in my most annoyed voice but I obliged him because he was already here.

You could tell he was eager to have me alone so soon again and this time he ominously wasn't in a hurry. The stained dress was at the dry cleaners and so I put on a fun checkered orange and blue skirt in the bathroom. He admired it with his hands and then guided me to the middle of the living room, to get on my knees on the couch. His cock was out and he was breathing heavily pacing around the couch. It was as if he was choosing a hole, weighing heavy internal arguments for which one to defile first. Again, I wasn't even horny but something about watching this choice take place was exciting and I trembled in anticipation of first contact. He ran his hand under my skirt and just briefly checked inside my underwear.

"You still haven't shaved," he admonished me.

He settled on the front first. Instead of letting me suck his cock, he held my head in place and started fucking my mouth slowly. Eerily slowly, in fact. He wanted me to feel every quarter inch slide over my lips, and he wanted me to stay still, to not fight it. To get used. To drag my lips with his cock. It was so slow and so gentle and I focused on relaxing my mouth. He reached down under my shirt and fondled my breasts as he did it, so I helped give him better access by rolling the shirt up to my neck.

He said, "Love your outfit girl," with his hands running over my bra, adding "we'll need to get you something sexier."

"I swear this is the last time I'll let you do this," I told him impatiently when he let me breathe.

Within minutes he took his cock out of my mouth and I swallowed the excess drool. While still breathing heavily he walked behind me to put his hands on my hips. He pulled my panties down so slowly that I hated the speed for two irreconcilable reasons, an incompatible dread of knowing what came next and a repugnant impatience to get stuffed. Hiking my skirt up, he placed his warm cock right between my ass cheeks. It felt heavy and it pulsed, screaming of how horny he was.

At the moment I felt conflicting shame at both wanting him to leave and wanting him to fuck me hard. That latter anticipation spread out and took over my mind. His hands slid up my body and pulled my bra down, leaving my breasts to rest on top of the elastic band. He cupped them and I felt his cock press into me harder. Instead of sticking it in my pussy, he just slid it over my ass cheeks for awhile, so slowly, later spreading them apart with his hands for a better fit.

At the time I wondered if he wanted to fuck my ass and felt oddly curious about it.

My ass wiggled side to side slowly on its own and I felt his cock follow, guided by my motion. The swaying ended up reseating his cockhead dead center against my asshole and my jaw dropped from the nastiness of it all. Was he going to fuck my ass? Did I want him to? I didn't know but I kept swinging it side to side anyway out of horniness. Resting my head on the couch cushion, I reached behind and spread my ass cheeks for him.

But no, instead, he got back up and walked around to fuck my mouth again. This time he wasn't so gentle. He picked up the pace. With my neck on the cushion, my hands could only do so much to support my head so I mentally disconnected and focused on feeling my tits bounce with each thrust. When he finally did put his cock in my pussy I moaned because it'd been a year since the last time I've had sex. In fact, I screamed.

"OH GOD, YES," I cringed at hearing myself shout.

Memories of my early enthusiasm for it came to me and I smiled and moaned in pleasure. He was really working it in.

Over the next half hour he took turns walking behind and in front of me, fucking either my mouth or my pussy as he liked. Tasting myself on his cock was bizarrely hot. My tits bounced more violently when he took me from behind, and I focused on sensing them, watching them absorb and disperse the shock of the bounce quickly. Between switching positions he paced slowly like the horny animal he was and I got hornier hearing his steps thump on the floorboards.

I wasn't really horny, just willing, but his behavior made me want to feel that final moment, that splash of warm jizz. When would it arrive? When would he be done with me? Suddenly, he came deep in my throat without giving me a warning and his cum escaped through my nostrils as I coughed for breath. It burned.

He enjoyed seeing me surprised and humiliated. I looked it, and I felt it. Digging through my concealed bed drawer I fished out a towel and emptied my nose in desperation.

"Seriously, that was the last time," I told him as he was dressing.

Before he left he handed me a few folded money bills and told me to buy some lingerie with it. For minutes after he left, I just stared at the cash. Was I not sexy enough? It felt doubly demeaning.

He'd gotten me to buy some exciting underwear before, from my "allowance" as he put it long ago, but this felt so wrong. Not to say I didn't enjoy the perversity of crotchless panties but this was different. Now it was as if he paid to fuck me. It took hours to get the smell of cum out of my nostrils. Later that afternoon I went out shopping for groceries.

That evening I got irrationally horny masturbating to the memory of being used earlier and got carried away, buying three hundred dollars worth of lingerie and sexy outfits with money I didn't yet have. My credit card, still feeling the IKEA bill, felt heavier. The act was way overboard but daddy was persuasive and deep down inside I didn't want to disappoint him.

The whole time I poked through the site I was confused and deluded myself that I could use the lingerie for my boyfriend much later, but as it turned out that never happened. I started with some innocent miniskirts, then the obligatory schoolgirl outfit, then added some random items like a dozen different colored thigh highs. Bras and full back undies cost more than they should. Afterwards I worked my way up to lacy camisoles and corsets and even shoes, going by purchase ratings assuming that equated to attraction. The box arrived days later.

When the package arrived I felt strangely disappointed. The door bell meant it could have been a potential fucking, but it wasn't. Instead, it was just my whorish outfits. It was strange to not want something and want it other times. I opened the box and tried on a few, realizing I could never wear them in front of another person. They were so incredibly ... slutty. And yet half of what I bought was allegedly advertised as clubwear.

Weeks later, Daddy Mike texted me late at night to let me know he'd be coming over later. He didn't even ask if I was available, just said it. Though I was out on my date and having a wonderful time, I felt his imaginary leash tug my neck toward that bizarrely inappropriate thing we had going on. I cut my date short feigning being tired and raced to catch a bus. On the ride home I saw a lonely streetwalker trying to snare a driver. The driver braked to gawk at her but didn't turn into a side street to pick her up, like they're supposed to do. She didn't wear anything all that remarkable. Or was it a he?

Once I got home I dressed in the first new outfit I bought on that chunk of credit, a short wavy black skirt and a lacy black top, and for the first time since being a senior in high school, thigh highs and high heels. My God, but six inches were tough to balance in. They were called "Pleasers" and I thought that name very appropriate.

Dressed like a hotel hooker I waited and yet no ring at the door. Acutely aware of what I looked like, I got wet from the novelty and felt anxiety over being seen like that by anyone. Almost an hour went by and no word, no text either. Was he coming? Bet the streetwalker snagged one by now. By one in the morning I figured I was definitely stood up. Changing into my pajamas, I went to sleep. Think I wasn't disappointed because I actually didn't want sex but again I wondered, why did I do this to myself?

Being stood up actually felt like a relief that I didn't have to go through with putting out but I was annoyed that my time wasn't respected. The blown hookup made me feel like I was considered cheap and expendable. When I woke up in the morning I was bordering on feeling angry. There was no follow-up text explaining anything. Suppose that was fine because I'd mothball my whore outfits and there wouldn't be another time for him.

Days went by and I got a single line from him while I was at work, "what r u wearing."

Not even a question mark. No explanation for standing me up. There were several hours left to go on my shift and I didn't reply because our "thing" was over. His next message startled me however because I opened the phone in a dark room and backlight scatter from a picture of his swollen cock lit my face up. Gasping in shock I closed it as fast as I could and hoped no one saw me. And Jesus forgive me, but my pussy twitched in horniness.

"Can I leave early tonight?" I asked my manager who lazily nodded at the request. I was building a reputation for being unreliable, but my needs supressed that.

Once I got home I put the same outfit on as from the other night and replied to his message with a picture of my feet in nylons and the 6" Pleasers. It made him leave his truck parked illegally in the rush to see it in person. However by the time he got to my building, I had a change of mind and decided to go for the schoolgirl outfit, red plaid skirt, obscenely white thigh highs and a starchy button-up.

I even tied my hair up in pigtails.

Once he walked through the door and saw how slutty I was dressed, his hands swept the entire length of me twice and his lips landed on my neck, making me feel desired for once. Thing about us is we never kissed. He kissed plenty parts of my body, but never on the mouth. Kissing was exceedingly rare. Holding my arms to my body, he escorted me to the middle of the room. My new heels hammered the wooden floorboards.

He set his boot on my brand new leather couch and struggled to unlace it, then made me do the other one since his stomach was in the way. I undressed him and he sat on the couch and bade me to sit on his cock, arrogantly assuming I was already wet. He just happened to be right this one time. My phone rang and it got completely ignored. From the custom ringtone, it was my boyfriend and he should've known I was at work anyway and couldn't answer. Besides, for once I wanted Daddy's cock. More than that I wanted him to approve of how I listened and finally got a sexy outfit just for him. His hands running over my body assured me of that. I wanted to sit on his cock, I wanted it to shoot cum inside me. As I was starting to straddle him, he pushed me away and told me to sit next to him.

He pulled my panties aside and discovered nothing had changed.

"Well, this won't do girl," he intoned, "I'll have to take care of that for you."

He got up and walked over to my bathroom and I was unsure if he was serious. When he returned with my Venus razor, a towel and a glass of warm water I was worried. Was he going to make me shave it?

He knelt in front of me, and pulled my panties off. He then spread my pussy lips apart and licked me and I closed my eyes enjoying the moment.

"HEY!" I yelped when I felt the wet towel replace his lips, "what are you doing?" I asked in a mild panic.

Instead of responding, he stuck a finger inside my pussy and licked my clit again, then with his finger still there put the razor right up to my skin. It felt terrifying.

"Now you hold real still," he told me. Jesus, he was going to shave my pussy!

Not wanting to risk a cut, I sat still back there while he methodically cut larger bunches off, patiently cleaning the clogged razor in the cup. Once he got the brunt of it out of the way, he licked my pussy some more and then continued shaving my mound. He had me raise my legs and spread them for a better reach, checking for smoothness. Since he was right handed, my opposite side suffered from a cut against the grain and the shave was too close for comfort. I was sure it'll burn later, but I kept silent and remained still for the time being while the blade glided over my lips.

Once he was done, he put away the implements on the kitchen sink and then licked my pussy for a few minutes to test out the smoothness. Once satisfied with it, he sat back down on the couch next to me and asked me to get up.

He wanted me to sit in his lap facing away from him, but I thought it wouldn't be very comfortable so I got the bright idea to stand on my couch in my stripper heels and lower myself onto his cock, like from porn he made me watch long ago. He helped hold me upright and I was so excited to feel his cock in me. God, I lowered myself and slid down on it eagerly. My shaved pussy was so much smoother and I was so incredibly wet and enjoying it that I didn't blink when one of my heels dug into the fake leather and gouged a hole.

"Oh that went in there so much easier," he said.

No, all I cared about was to keep bouncing slowly and ride Daddy's cock.

Each dip made me squeal softly, because it felt surprisingly filling. The fake leather creaked with the movement and the sound of it burned into my memory. Despite my enthusiasm this got physically tiring after a few minutes and so I did finally sit in his lap, leaning back against his body. His tongue went into my ear and got me hornier, his arms held my thighs and he lifted my legs up in the air, spreading them apart. My stripper heels started dangling up in the air as he made the smallest movements to fuck me. This went on for a long while, him gyrating his hips minutely and lifting or lowering me by my legs onto his cock. I focused on watching my heels swing and counted obsessively until it was all over.

Over time I almost came when he pushed me off his lap and guided me to my bed. He made me lay down on my stomach and got on top of me.

"Close your legs together," he told me.

His cock started trying to go in the wrong hole. It wouldn't fit obviously so I didn't protest. I figured he was just teasing me before finishing in my pussy. To help him, I wiggled my butt and his head worked itself snugly around my hole. But after a minute of him teasing my anus I wasn't so sure about his intentions. Pulling both of my pigtails toward him with one hand, he pushed it in.

I screamed when I felt his cockhead slip inside. He shushed me and kissed my neck and said it was okay. It was a sharp jolt of pain and it felt as if my asshole got torn. Thankfully, he froze in place and didn't try anything else for awhile.

"That was the hardest part," he assured me. He pulled it out and stuck it in my pussy for a brief few moments, then slid the head back in my asshole.

When he started sliding in deeper and fucking my ass slowly, I was bound to agree with him. The shock of that first insertion surprisingly abated in minutes. The third time it wasn't so surprising and I now even felt a weird pleasure from the discomfort. It made me want to have a cock in my mouth at the same time, a strange craving. I tried to distract myself by focusing on the memory of riding him on the couch when suddenly I had a sobering thought. Jesus, he was inside my ass! And he was fucking it. This was unreal, so new. His lips were on my neck, kissing and biting it. Not wanting him to leave a mark, I twisted my head to the side and kissed him for the first time in years. His tongue was wet and slobbery but with his cock in my ass I didn't care, I wanted him.

"Ask me to fuck you," he said.

"Fuck me," I repeated.

"Daddy. Call me daddy," he steered my line.

"Please fuck my ass daddy," I said and that made him start grunting loudly.

He was now fucking me faster and deeper. Finally he nearly bottomed out - his cock was really thick at the base and each time he dipped into me that much it felt as if he stretched me more and more. Soon he started grunting louder and slamming into my ass faster and I was disoriented, I couldn't focus on anything but the feeling of his cock stretching me.

"You fucking whore," he growled as he entirely bottomed out inside my ass and started shooting cum. It felt so warm. I screamed in confused assent.

That was the deepest anything had ever been inside my ass and the feeling of my asshole stretched by his thick cock jolted me into screaming incomprehensibly in pleasure. His growl was so right. Yes, I was a whore. It made me want to be one. As his cock slowed down I thought I deserved being treated like this. It was all my fault, all those years of letting it happen and saying nothing to stop it, encouraging him by dressing up like a little whore. His warm cum filled me up and we stopped kissing. Some time passed with me unmoving and his cock slipped out. Even that part felt uncomfortable.

"Do you like my ass better than my pussy now?" I asked him worriedly and got no response.

He let himself out of my apartment and I fell asleep in my little trampy outfit, skirt still hiked up and panties pulled down, cum slowly running out.

The next day I was walking around in the grocery store when a very recent and vivid memory came to me. Holding a large cucumber in my hand, I realized absurdly that after all these years I finally got assfucked. It gave me pause because it was my first time ever.

That evening I cooked dinner for my boyfriend and afterwards we watched a movie on my couch. He complimented me on my cucumber salad. When he went to the bathroom I reached into my tights to scratch an irritated razor burn. The hole my stripper heel gouged came into view and I exploratively pulled my hand out of my tights and stuck my finger in it. It was deep. The first damage on my new furniture, and I did it being a slut. When he came back he caught me in thought still fingering it.

"Guess it came damaged like that huh?" he asked.

Shrugging indifference, we went back to watching the movie. Midway through it, I leaned over and rested my head on his lap. He stroked my hair lovingly and the movie was sweet. The devil possessed my right hand and I put it in front of me, stroking the hole that my heel made the night before. It jogged powerful memories. The movie disappeared in my mind and I was sitting in Daddy's lap again and he was lowering me slowly onto his cock. Over and over again.