Wrestle her down onto the bed

“One thing I'll say for the South is the way you pretty plantation belles squeal when you feel a real man plow your furrow.”

“You have a foul mouth, Mister.” She pushes at my chest angrily, “no Confederate officer would use language like - wait, no!” There's a bit of a struggle as Alison tries to keep me from pulling off her shift, but it doesn't take long before she is cringing before me completely nude except for her knee-high stockings and blue slippers. I've seen every inch of her firm teenaged body just a few minutes ago but seeing her try to cover herself with her small hands is even sexier than seeing her fully exposed.

“Damn, I knew you'd undress real pretty!” I catch her hand easily, expecting the slap that she aims at my face. I had planned on putting her on her back, but with her arm twisted behind her back it is just easier to push her face down on the bed and climb onto her squirming body to hold her in place. Alison doesn't make it easy for me; I have to wrap my arm around her neck to hold her as pulled off my shirt and pushed my pants down enough to free my now fully erect cock. I get first one knee and then the other between her thighs and push her legs open so my access to her treasure is unimpeded.

“Please, Sir!” Once she realizes that I am more than strong enough to hold her how I want, she changes her tactics. “Have mercy ... Oh sweet Jesus, I'm begging you.”

“That's right, Miss Miller, I like it when you beg.” With my free hand I pushed the head of my cock between her petals and wiggle a little to make sure I'm positioned just right. “But I'm going to like hearing you cry out even more.”

“No ... no ... Ugh n-Aaaiigggh!”

At that moment, I'm completely lost in this scenario of deflowering an innocent Southern Belle. With her fake cry of pain and the very real tightness of her teen-aged pussy I forget that I'm just a bitter, old, widowed teacher. I forget that Alison isn't as chaste and virginal as she is pretending to be and that she's only letting me fuck her because she lost her job. All I can think about is how good it feels to have her bucking and twisting under me as I ram again and again into her perfect pussy. Alison too seems lost deep in this fantasy of hers, with each hard thrust she cries out in protest, her southern accent more pronounced than ever.

“Ow, it hurts ... it hurts ... you're too big ... Please, Sir!” I have to admit Alison's cries of pain are adding to my primal sense of male power. I've had this kind of **** fantasy before, but I would never have been this rough or demanding with Fran. With Alison, I don't have any of those reservations, I feel just like that nineteenth century cavalry officer might as he plunders this virgin daughter of the deep South. One other thing I forget as I'm balls deep in Alison, is that in the fiery build-up to this moment neither Alison nor myself remembered that I am supposed to be using birth-control.