Slut TV
Third Night Out, Chapter Two
There was a pause in the programming... right? Jared couldn’t be sure. His mind swam with double images. A conscious, clinical level that knew he was staring at a blue screen, marked by periodic flashes and a strange, pulsating strobe. And then a second, animal half watching a TV show about a teenager getting turned into a dripping pink bimbo.
Olivia looked to be coming slightly to. Or not—she had her legs in the air, propped up on the couch, and had her hand rubbing hard between her thighs. She had managed to get her zipper undone, button pulled out, and had her tight white shorts down just enough to permit access to her pussy.
“I think this is the part of the show,” she said, cheeks red, “where the boy comes over and takes advantage of the slutty girl with her legs in the air.”
And that made sense, right? Jared had a hardon to burst steel, and Olivia was—there was no other word—presenting for fucking. Head pounding, he knelt in front of her, and grasped her shorts with both hands. She moaned as he pulled her shorts up and off, taking a black silk pair of panties with her. Her slit was puffy and juicy, and her hand worked ceaselessly between her folds.
“Okay, I think now you smell me, and have to take your pants off and fuck me,” Olivia said, wide-eyed.
Jared sniffed, and stiffened. It was a sweet nectar of juice, and tossed away the remnants of his conscious thoughts. He stood up, pushed his pants around his ankles, and knelt back down. Her legs hadn’t moved at all, still pushed way up in the air. She had been ready for mounting all along. Jared pushed forwards, and his cock rammed into Olivia’s open slit.
“N-now,” Olivia said, trembling, “you to grab at my titties, and fuck me really, really hard.”
She kneaded and pulled, and Jared shifted forward to give himself better access. She was tight and wet, a beautiful combination, and the girl was already spasming, despite her dry recitation. She started to pant and shudder, legs finally waving back and forth, then moaned a deep and heartfelt orgasm over him. Her hands were wild at her own chest, reaching underneath her shirt to grab and pull at her nipples. They nearly poked through the shirt.
It was messy, awkward sex, the couch too deep to effectively thrust in. Jared managed anyways, grunting with each stroke, stripping Olivia of anything besides a quivering mass of pleasure-burnt nerves. He was close to a monster orgasm.
“Then, just as you cum, you remember you forgot to wear a condom,” Olivia said.
Jared started. But it was too late. He could feel it surging, up along his cock, and then he was spurting inside of her, dousing her cunt with a sticky white glaze, nineteen years of virginity in a fluid form. Olivia coaxed more out of him, murmuring and sighing, eyes still watching the TV screen behind her.
He collapsed, on top of her, and she put her arms around him.
“The show is coming back on,” she told him. “If you want to fuck me from behind, we can watch it together.”
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