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Ongoing story of a young man's training.


She didn't, not with anyone else; he was a whim, a fantasy that she acted upon after caging all of her cravings and lustful dreams far too long, but she didn't want to reveal that to him, "What difference does it make?"

Her answer set him off, his brows lowered to knot in a sullen frown, and she felt his fingers dig roughly into her thighs, "Do you?" he enquired again fucking her faster as if to chasten her pussy for ever embracing another cock.

Jillian gasped rather loudly, then swallowed nervously, "No, I don't..." then she added, "I swear." And grimaced at her weakness, and turned her head to the side.

"That's what I thought," he grumbled settling his right hand on the small of her back to keep her from bouncing as his pounding got more feral, and insistent, "you might be a little cum-slut, but you're my cum-slut, and it's my cock you'll be begging for."

What brought that on? Why was he suddenly so intent on staking a claim on her? She didn't need any more confusion to add to the bewildered tangle of emotions that raged within her everytime she thought of him, "How come you can say that I'm yours, but I can't say it about you?" she struggled to keep her eyes focused on his while his cock pistoned in and out of her making a variety of luridly pornographic sloshing sounds.

"Who said that you can't?" he paused for a heartbeat, and she inhaled swiftly, taken aback by his loaded question, and her inability to find an answer. Her vision cleared, and she gulped, "Marc...I don't-"

He shoved his cock into her, and ground out, "Yeah?"

She cried out feeling his encroachment on her body and now mind, complete in all aspects; he wanted to takeover and she was letting him, "Why did you make it so difficult?" she framed his face with her trembling hands, wanting so badly to staunch the traitorous part of her that was glad he took things further than they agreed upon all those months ago.

"I didn't make it difficult," he faced her, and when she dropped the subject, too wound up in her arousal to contest his argument, he kissed her and slowed his thrusts readjusting his stance to stuff himself all the way inside her until he hit all the places that made her squirm at once. And squirm she did, scratching at his shoulders, and pulling at his tie and the lapels of his open shirt as she felt every thick vein on his solid erection titillating and scrubbing her softness raw.

She was so close...his pubic hair scraped her engorged clit, his cock hit her all the way to her womb, the lace of her panties added to the maddening friction of his thrusts, and his left hand palmed her breast through her dress...she was so close, she swallowed the nervous saliva forming in the back of her throat, and heard her own heart thump loudly in her ears, her blood thinned by arousal like it was light with alcohol, yet this was more intoxicating than the hardest liquor, "Marc, I'm going to come," she leaned forward breathing against the place where his neck met his shoulder, "I want you to come with me," her tongue darted out to lick the small beads of dew her breath left on his skin, then kissed him hard enough to leave a hickey, "I want you to come with me," she whispered shakily whimpering and beating her left leg back, hitting the desk with her heels.

"Yes, baby, come for me, squeeze my dick with that tight pussy, Jillian, come for me," he pumped into her faster, then she heard him groan, and wheeze a strangled curse as he released into her. His large cock felt impossibly larger as it surged deep spurting into her, and the power of his combustion set hers off. She had to bite his shoulder to keep from screaming, the ebb and flow of her orgasm milking him dry, and drawing out his pleasure. He pulsed inside her, his heartbeat hers for those countable, precious moments, and her cunt gobbled him up greedily squeezing him, clenching against him, spasm after spasm announcing the "Mine." Declaration she couldn't bring herself to voice.

He stilled within her, but she was wracked by lingering, softer s

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