You want it in your hole

Mr. Goreman holds you by your waist, pummeling your ass with his fat dick, pushing your face down into the rumpled beadspread. You can feel his cock swelling and his whole body tensing up as he prepares to spunk up your eager teenage hole. Clearly fucking your ass to orgasm Mr. Goreman cries out with pleasure.

"Fucking give it to me," you cry and look back at his straning red face, "I want to feel your hot cum in my ass."

Mr. Goreman groans and redoubles his efforts, hammering his swelling spear into your tenderized ass and mashing his balls on your tingling taint. Fuckgrease and spit oozes out of your throbbing ass. His dick seems so big, skewering your teenage butt, but Mr. Goreman is so powerful, mounting your ass like a beast and pounding heavily into you. The sound of your anal rutting fills the small bedroom. Sweat drops splash from his head on your firm asscheeks.

"Dirty girl," Mr. Goreman groans, his thighs slapping against your ass as he pounds your hole. "I'm going to give it to you now. Is that what you want?"

"Oh fuck yes," you moan, fingers blasting your clit. "Fucking spunk up my little shithole. Pump me full of your old man jizz, Mr. Goreman."

"Ahhhhh!" he shouts and you feel his plunging prick throb inside your raw rectum. Hot cum blasts into your hungry hole, basting your bowels with his thick ball batter. Each spermy spew rockets into your guts and you feel the heat of his cum filling you up.

"Oh fuck that feels so good inside me," you moan as he slows his thrusts and finally stops. He watches you work your hips, his dick slowly wilting in your ass, as you frig yourself to antother orgasm. As your world goes white and your orgasmic spasms commence the **** of your vaginal contractions clenches your gaped butt on his dick, spitting his withered cock out along with a warm trickle of ass creampie.

"Just what I wanted," you say, once you've regained your senses. You stand up and turn around, running your hands over your naked body. Your clothes are heaped beside his bed. You pick them up, figuring you're going to get dressed, but Mr. Goreman isn't quite ready to see you go.

"My dear, I wanted to talk to you about an idea that occured to me while your little derriere was squeezing the milk from my loins." He stands, adjusting his boxers and shuffling over to you.

"What's the idea?" you ask.