Jan. Week 3: Frozen--Mr. Baker Cums inside Leah Doggy (Suspicion: +10)

"Oh, build a snowman inside me! Ughag, please!?!" she groaned out in a porn-inspired flourish, the words so cartoonishly over-the-top that it nearly made her break character.

"Shitttttttttttt" he huffed between thrusts, voice tight and **** as his hips slapped into her ass with rhythmic, sticky precision. Leah, still braced against the couch and feeling the full, relentless **** of him, let herself sink into the absurdity of it all—her knees digging into the threadbare cushions, icy blue sequins scratching at her skin, the wig threatening to become completely askew and half-obscure her face. She locked her gaze behind her and it looked at him fucking her. When he saw her look back it was more than enough.

The pounding was relentless, driven by more than just lust—Baker was eager to finish. Still, Leah couldn't help herself; she started to laugh, a dark, breathless giggle that spilled out between groans.

"Go on—let it go." she moaned.

He grunted, barely able to reply, but she caught the way his hand tightened on the camera and the tremor that ran through his thighs.

She felt his cock pulse and twitch, the pace faltering as he slammed into her with one final, animalistic thrust. He came with a guttural groan, his grip so tight on her hips that she was certain she'd find bruises there in the morning. Hot, viscous cum filled her up, leaking instantly from where he was buried deep; she felt it sluice down her thighs, slick and warm and almost comical in its abundance. For a heartbeat, the only sounds in the room were his ragged breathing and the sticky, humiliating squelches of their bodies joined together.

She turned her head, managed a smirk.

“Well—I am sure glad that load wasn’t on my face.” she said as his semen dripped out of her in rivulets after he pulled out.

“Damn,” Mr. Baker said, admiring his handiwork like some perverse Jackson Pollock. “That really was a fucking blizzard…” He sighed deeply then reached for a box of tissues took a handfull for himself then placed the box gently next to Leah so she could clean herself up. Leah dabbed herself with the dry, scratchy tissues, feeling them disintegrate as she swiped at the sticky mess.

Leah peeled the dress off, trying not to get any more stains on the loaner costume, and slipped back into her teacher clothes.

When everything was stowed and the last evidence of their little shoot erased, Leah grabbed her bag and made for the exit. The halls were silent. She glanced at the old analog clock on the wall and cursed—it was later than she’d hoped, and Jonathan would absolutely notice if she rolled in after dark. Leah’s panic simmered as she crossed the parking lot. She imagined Jonathan at home, already suspicious of her unexplained overtime.

By the time she reached her driveway, Leah was halfway convinced she could bluff her way through anything—so long as she didn’t look Jonathan directly in the eyes. She took a deep breath, braced herself, and went inside.