CONTROLLING DAWN
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DREAMING OF DAWN
Faith couldn't help it - even as she ate the pussy of the forty-something woman splayed out in front of her, she thought of nothing but B's little s!ster. The bitch in the suit - dressed for power lunches and corporate shenanigans, not to mention tongue fucks by tramps picked up in seedy bars – barely existed outside her peripheral vision. She was just a meal, someone Faith had said yes to, simply for amusement. The bitch didn’t know it, but she was just a prop in Faith’s depraved little fantasy...
This was the third such woman Faith had picked up. Or been picked up by, as they surely thought of it as. Her conquests didn't know who, or what, she was. They were looking for a quick fuck, something to take their minds off the stress of whatever-the-fuck industry they were tied up in. None of the three had even worn panties at their respective bars, which was what had attracted Faith to them. She took their drinks, took their offers, ate them, and then turned the tables. They always said no at first, always insisted on being in charge, but by the end of the night Faith always had them begging for more.
The only one she'd enjoyed was the young one. She'd been the second. Young, firm, with a long mane of dark hair and an air of innocence betrayed by her sexual expertise. The other two had been far older than Faith herself, though each did their best not to let it show - hello boob jobs, botox, and fuck, the first one MUST have had her twat tightened. Yet they showed no real signs of experience. Nothing worthwhile, at least.
Number Two, though, she was something special, just a few years older than the Slayer herself, full of energy, and full of ideas - she'd been up for all sorts of experiments of a sexual nature, and even Faith had been surprised when the girl had asked to be fisted.
Still, Faith aimed to please. So, she fisted the girl, fingered herself, and it was number two she had been munching on when she first envisioned Dawn.
Dawn. Buffy's little s!ster. Naked. Nubile. Wet. Fucking glistening.
Fucking yummy.
She'd bit down on the girl's clit as she came, screaming the name of her old rival's teenage s!ster.
Number Two didn't care. Number Two wasn't physically capable of hearing at that precise moment, as she'd passed out with Faith's fist lodged in her cunt.
Now, in the moments before she forced her current conquest's nose into her twat, she admitted to herself at last that it was Dawn she really wanted. These quick fucks had to stop. She'd only enjoyed the second girl because she had seen her as Dawn. Now this third bitch was just a stand-in, or a blank screen at least, onto which she projected the image of Buffy’s little sis. Damn.
Nothing short of B's little s!ster was going to satisfy her.
Sighing, she pushed the woman eagerly lapping her cunt away. The bitch actually made a moan of disappointment - amazing how quickly her resistance had turned to eagerness.
"Sorry, honey - time's up. My advice - get yourself a vibe. You being the busy working woman and all, it'd be wicked convenient, bang yourself between meetings, tease the boss..." she grinned at the woman's look of shock. "What, you expected pillow talk?"
With that, Faith made her exit.
* * *
The first few months after they'd finished with the First, Faith had been the good little Slayer, as close to it as possible. She'd taken over for B - Bitchy, err, Buffy, had needed the time off, and Faith figured it was the least she could do, aside from actually doing nothing at all. She liked to fight, and it would get her out of the ruins of SunnyD.
Evil, after all, had pulled up stakes and headed for blacker pastures.
So, there had been vamps slain, biker's boned (the highlight of her east-coast jaunt had seen her finger-cuffed between two beefy guys who outweighed her by at least a hundred and fifty pounds each), and every so often she phoned back to home base to keep them up-to-date... and to hear a familiar voice or two. As much as she hated to admit it, Faith was beginning to realize that there would always be home, complete with the closest things she had to "friends".
Now, at long last, she was going back. One way or another, she had to get Dawn out of her mind. She'd sent a letter, addressed to Dawn alone, Wednesday. By Friday she'd packed her shit and settled the bill at the sorry excuse for a motel she'd been staying at. Settling had involved giving the innkeeper (really just a drunk old coot) a good look at her goods, and Faith thought it was a pretty sweet deal for the old guy. She made sure to lean well down over the counter at the front desk, all the while explaining that her parents hadn't wired her the cash she needed to pay up (but she'd forward the cash in the mail just as soon as she could, really, thanks mister). Faith actually thought it was kind of cute, the old guy staring at her tits, a glazed look in his eyes (from an afternoon nip at the hard shit or from getting a peek at her nips, she wasn't sure which). She had a sneaking suspicion the old fart even felt a stirring where he might not have felt one for years. So, it all worked out well for the both of them.
The guy even called the cab for her.
* * *
In all his years as a cabbie, Al Samuels was never as shocked as when the young girl - the young girl ALONE at night outside a seedy motel - asked him to drive her half-way across the state. Until she gave him the cash, up front. And then kissed him - right smack on the lips. Not a lover's kiss, but not a peck from your s!ster, either. This little thing was something else.
So he plodded on through the night, fighting the need to sleeep that crept up on him with a sudden ferocity - it was well past the end of his shift - and kept a wary eye on his fare in the rear-view mirror. What was her story? How the hell did she have that much cash on her, had she mugged someone? Al had been mugged three times in his fifteen years behind the wheel, and twice, it had been by youngish looking females. The type that immediately caused you to let your guard down, when you were young and more than just a little green. He was a long way from green these days, and the girl had a vibe to her, but hell, she'd given him the cash. If she was out to roll him, why even play at being a legit fare? Who was she, and why the rush to get to a rat hole like where she was going?
The Girl - it was the only thing he could think of her as. He hadn't got her name, and she'd fallen asleeep almost as soon as they hit the road, so 'the girl' would have to do. Speaking of sleeep, she was muttering in hers. Dreaming, obviously. Every now and then a soft moan would escape her throat, which, even in the grimy rear-view mirror looked red, juicy, and inviting. He'd love to slip his cock between those lips. He could imagine her sucking on it in her sleeep like a new-born calf at its mother's tit. Could imagine unloading on that pouty, ruby-coloured mouth, and-
SHIT!
The blare of a semi's horn brought him back to reality. He'd almost crossed over into oncoming traffic while off on his little fantasy excursion. And now his fare was awake.
"Wicked close, dude," she admonished him. "The wad I gave you, I wanna arrive alive, you dig?"
Yeah, he dug. And he had a wad for her - well, in his dreams. Which, all k**ding aside, were going to get him into trouble. He didn't want to do this, but...
"Look, miss. I'm way past the end of my regular working hours. How about I drop you off someplace, refund you the difference, I'll call in, get another cab here. Better that than I drive us into a ditch."
He watched her in the mirror. She didn't seem to be listening to him at all. She seemed to be studying the backs of her hands with great interest, actually.
"Nah-uh sugar. I paid YOU. How's this - we stop for a breather. You take a nap, I'll get a breath of fresh air. There's a rest area back a ways - we passed the sign not five minutes ago. Right before you decided to play chicken with the eighteen-wheeler."
Al let an audible sigh escape. He was too far down the road now to make it home at any reasonable hour, and he really shouldn't make the girl wait for another yellow-jacket - getting a cab out here at this hour could take a while. Signalling for the next exit, he circled around and merged back onto the freeway returning the way he had come. The whole time, his fare never said a word. And sure enough, there was a rest stop just a few miles up the road.
How the fuck had she known about it? Al had been sure the girl was asleeep the entire time he’d been watching her.
* * *
The girl was DEFINITELY asleeep the second he parked the car after pulling into the rest stop parking lot. The pavement was cracked and marked with potholes, the last minute or so of the ride terribly bumpy, but she nodded off right away nonetheless. So much for her "breath of fresh air." He peered at her through the mirror once more. The rise and fall of her chest was mesmerizing. Damn, the little vixen had great tits. He watched her for a good ten minutes before falling asleeep himself.
When he awoke, something wasn't quite right. He was still crammed in the front seat of the cab, but things seemed even more cramped than before.
A glance to his side explained it - the raven-haired vixen had joined him. What's more, her head was in his lap, her body curled up on the passenger seat beside him, coiled like a snake. Despite the tight confines, she actually looked comfortable, but he didn't give it much thought, because, well, her head was in his lap! And her hand was massaging his crotch in a circular motion. What the hell was she up to?!
"Good morning sunshine. I wanna play," she informed him.
Holy Shit! At that moment, Al Samuels could find no better way to describe the situation. And he must have said it out loud as he thought it, because the dark-haired broad who'd decided to join him - and give him an impromptu hand job - smiled. In fact, he was so blown away that it never occurred to him until later to wonder how she had found her way into the front of the locked cab, given the safety shield separating front from back.
"Best day of your life, sugar? If not, it's gonna be. Tell you what... my name's Faith, and I have a whole hell of a lot in you. I've got faith that if I let you cream in my mouth, you'll still be able to get me off. Think you can handle that?"
As she spoke, she freed Al from his pants and swallowed him whole. Incredibly, the entire time he thought of his ex-wife. At least until he shot off in the little chick's mouth. She downed it in an exaggerated swallowing motion and smiled. Then she climbed up from his lap and whispered into his ear.
"Time to see if you can live up to your end of the deal. Just so you know, I'm one hard bitch to get off."
* * *
Faith examined the Plexiglas wall between the front and back seats of the cab. It was designed to keep rides from jumping the cabbie, she guessed. Just had a little slot to push money through and to talk into. She had no idea what it was supposed to do if the ride had a gun - the slot that allowed for money to be passed through pretty much eliminated any security the damn thing provided - but the larger problem was that it was in her FUCKING WAY! She wanted fun, and she wanted it now, damn it! The front of the cab - which she'd got into by breaking the lock on the door with sheer strength - wasn't roomy enough, and they really couldn't go outside; even at this time of night there might be another motorist or two milling about the washrooms and rest area.
Giving a quick demo of what Slayer strength really was, she slammed the barrier with both hands. HARD. It didn't break - instead, the entire length of the protective shield ripped from its mounting and sailed into the back seat.
Perfect.
Mission accomplished, Faith stood in the back seat, facing the back window. She spread her legs, bent over, and placed the palms of her hands on the seats. Tossing her hair back over her shoulder, she looked right at El Capitan, Mr. Cab Driver.
* * *
"Yank my pants down, and eat my ass," she demanded.
Patience being the very least of her virtues, she snapped at the frozen expression of bewilderment on the cabbie's face.
"Fucking eat it you dick. So, help me god I'd better feel your tongue so far up my crack that it's stirring things up in my stomach."
Al Samuels knew better than to make her ask a third time. Not that she'd really asked at all - the first two instances had been commands, orders – he’d just been too dumbfounded to carry them out. Once what she was asking sunk in, however, he made his way to her backside - not a long journey in the confines of a car - and undid the button of her almost painted-on black jeans. He pulled them down her legs roughly - forget loving caresses, this bitch was in heat, and he could tell she liked (nay, needed it) - rough.
He was not at all surprised to find the girl was without knickers. Instead, he was face to face with a shaved twat and a pink puckered shithole. Faith's backside glistened just a little with a few sparse beads of sweat. From Al's perspective, it seemed as if she was quivering just a little in anticipation. It made him think of her like a cat.
He flicked his tongue out once, then twice, over the red rosebud of her anus. Fuck, he'd never done anything like this before - he'd fucked his ex-wife in the backdoor only sporadically, usually when they were drunk (on those odd occasions she transformed from the frigid crone she had become over the years back to the adventurous girl he'd met in high school) - but he’d never even considered sticking his tongue there.
Still, when in Rome…
He continued teasing her, occasionally lick down towards her slit, and then back up again. He stroked the small of her back with one hand, and before long was lost in what he was doing. Not that it would last.
The teasing set Faith off. She wanted action, not some lovey-dovey shit. "Get it in there you fuck. Come on, tongue my ass, PUSH IT IN!"
As he struggled to comply, Faith ground her rear back into his face. She managed to reach one arm around herself and get a hold of his hair, using her grip to force him further into her backside. Slayer strength being what it was, she had to be careful not to suffocate him. Still, she could feel his nose pressing into her lower back, and feel her tongue stretching to get up inside her pucker in a desperate attempt to please her. The old dude was doing a pretty sweet job reaming her ass, but she needed more.
"Use your hands, dude, I have a fuckin' cunt too you know" she demanded.
She got off abusing guys this way. A flash of her ass and they'd be her complete slave. Just like this one. The dark-haired Slayer wondered if he had a wife or a girlfriend. Probably not the former as he lacked a ring, but then again who knew - maybe he slipped it off while on duty for fear of being jumped (or in case he picked up a randy little fuck slut like herself).
Now that he was jamming his fingers into her - three had slid easily into her twat, and a fourth had been added shortly thereafter - Faith could feel herself reaching the edge. A final thrust of his tongue into her backside pushed her over, and she came all over the cabbie's face. She saw stars - dancing around a naked, oiled up Dawn, and fuck, here was something new, and big sis was there as well, on all fours in front of Little Miss Jailbait.
Faith liked this image.
A lot.
A squirming - that soon developed into a frantic thumping - between her legs brought the Slayer back down to reality, where it became apparent that the cab driver turned fuck-toy couldn't breathe. It took a second or two more for Faith to realize that was because she was still pressing his face into her ass. Quickly she released. Sometimes slayer strength was a real pain: he'd be no good to her passed out.
* * *
Moments later, a gasping, panting Al Samuels found himself staring down at the buxom girl with the long, black hair while she sucked his rod for the second time that evening. He became entranced by the bobbing motion her head made - and, shit time to face facts, the incredible feelings her mouth was bringing out in him. She was by far the best cocksucker he'd ever had the fortune to cross paths with - not that he was all that experienced.
She took him deep into her throat, and a moaned "Faith," escaped his lips in an almost inaudible whisper. From her look - and the fact that she'd ceased swallowing his member - it seemed that he'd pissed her off.
"Don't say my name like it means shit to you," she snapped. "This is a sport fuck, plain and simple."
Al simply nodded his head, which seemed to satisfy her. Boundaries sufficiently drawn, Faith went back to work on the problem at hand - the cock in her hand. She slurped every inch of him for a few more minutes until she sensed he was at the brink, then let his wet, spit-shined member slip free of her lips. She climbed into his lap, her back to him, and engorged herself on his rod in one smooth motion, then proceeded to give him the ride of his life. She could see herself riding him in the rear-view mirror, see his face distorted in the throes of pleasure, but the sight did nothing to get her off.
Keeping her eyes closed did.
With her eyes closed, Faith could envision Dawn thrusting beneath her, a long, black, oiled strap-on punching into her twat. She felt the driver rubbing the index finger of his free hand between the cheeks of her ass, then pushing it in, violating her anus, and imagined it was Dawn. Dawn would add another, then a third, then reach around and make her clean them, but the cab driver didn't do that. He did pick up the pace though, and continued to stab into her shitter with his finger, while his other hand groped her tits under her top, pawing them and occasionally twisting her nipples. He was anything but gentle; other girls, not being Slayers, would have found the experience painful, but Faith loved it. She loved the searing heat that seemed to shoot through her entire breast, with its center at the tip of her nipple. And she loved that it was Dawn doing this to her, causing her to lose control.
The illusion was shattered, however, when with a grunt, the cabbie spewed his seed inside her, biting down on her shoulder as he did. The bite pushed her over the edge as nothing else could, and she came as well, but in the end, she wanted more - she wanted Dawn.
The cabbie was spent though, she could tell right away. Fuck, why couldn't some young stud have been driving? The go-all-night, ten-inch dick sort?
She ordered him back on the road as soon as she climbed off him.
* * *
They made good time. When the cab reached the outskirts of where she needed to go, she ordered the driver to pull over.
"This'll do," she told him, and made her exit from the back seat, where she'd stretched out (leaving the busted safety glass on the floor) for the remainder of the ride.
"You sure miss?" the guy asked. He still looked red in the face, worn out from... well, her. "This area's got a bad rep, I know it and I don't even come here much."
"I can take care of myself," Faith replied, hooking an eyebrow towards the busted-out glass in the backseat.
"Yeah... yeah, I guess you can," he said thoughtfully. And then, unsure of what to say next, he began muttering some sort of belated thanks, only to have Faith cut him off.
"Forget it. If you can," she teased. Then, before turning away and heading into town, she dug into her bag, pulling up a worn pair of thong panties and tossing them into the surprised drivers lap. "A souvenir. Not that I wear them all that often. Although, they're probably pretty fucking nasty, cuz I haven't had a chance to do the wash in, well... I don't remember when." She smiled. "I'm sure you'll put them to good use though."
With that, Faith headed off towards the town - towards Dawn - as the cab sped off back the way it came.
She’d be seeing her girl soon.
THE END
Faith couldn't help it - even as she ate the pussy of the forty-something woman splayed out in front of her, she thought of nothing but B's little s!ster. The bitch in the suit - dressed for power lunches and corporate shenanigans, not to mention tongue fucks by tramps picked up in seedy bars – barely existed outside her peripheral vision. She was just a meal, someone Faith had said yes to, simply for amusement. The bitch didn’t know it, but she was just a prop in Faith’s depraved little fantasy...
This was the third such woman Faith had picked up. Or been picked up by, as they surely thought of it as. Her conquests didn't know who, or what, she was. They were looking for a quick fuck, something to take their minds off the stress of whatever-the-fuck industry they were tied up in. None of the three had even worn panties at their respective bars, which was what had attracted Faith to them. She took their drinks, took their offers, ate them, and then turned the tables. They always said no at first, always insisted on being in charge, but by the end of the night Faith always had them begging for more.
The only one she'd enjoyed was the young one. She'd been the second. Young, firm, with a long mane of dark hair and an air of innocence betrayed by her sexual expertise. The other two had been far older than Faith herself, though each did their best not to let it show - hello boob jobs, botox, and fuck, the first one MUST have had her twat tightened. Yet they showed no real signs of experience. Nothing worthwhile, at least.
Number Two, though, she was something special, just a few years older than the Slayer herself, full of energy, and full of ideas - she'd been up for all sorts of experiments of a sexual nature, and even Faith had been surprised when the girl had asked to be fisted.
Still, Faith aimed to please. So, she fisted the girl, fingered herself, and it was number two she had been munching on when she first envisioned Dawn.
Dawn. Buffy's little s!ster. Naked. Nubile. Wet. Fucking glistening.
Fucking yummy.
She'd bit down on the girl's clit as she came, screaming the name of her old rival's teenage s!ster.
Number Two didn't care. Number Two wasn't physically capable of hearing at that precise moment, as she'd passed out with Faith's fist lodged in her cunt.
Now, in the moments before she forced her current conquest's nose into her twat, she admitted to herself at last that it was Dawn she really wanted. These quick fucks had to stop. She'd only enjoyed the second girl because she had seen her as Dawn. Now this third bitch was just a stand-in, or a blank screen at least, onto which she projected the image of Buffy’s little sis. Damn.
Nothing short of B's little s!ster was going to satisfy her.
Sighing, she pushed the woman eagerly lapping her cunt away. The bitch actually made a moan of disappointment - amazing how quickly her resistance had turned to eagerness.
"Sorry, honey - time's up. My advice - get yourself a vibe. You being the busy working woman and all, it'd be wicked convenient, bang yourself between meetings, tease the boss..." she grinned at the woman's look of shock. "What, you expected pillow talk?"
With that, Faith made her exit.
* * *
The first few months after they'd finished with the First, Faith had been the good little Slayer, as close to it as possible. She'd taken over for B - Bitchy, err, Buffy, had needed the time off, and Faith figured it was the least she could do, aside from actually doing nothing at all. She liked to fight, and it would get her out of the ruins of SunnyD.
Evil, after all, had pulled up stakes and headed for blacker pastures.
So, there had been vamps slain, biker's boned (the highlight of her east-coast jaunt had seen her finger-cuffed between two beefy guys who outweighed her by at least a hundred and fifty pounds each), and every so often she phoned back to home base to keep them up-to-date... and to hear a familiar voice or two. As much as she hated to admit it, Faith was beginning to realize that there would always be home, complete with the closest things she had to "friends".
Now, at long last, she was going back. One way or another, she had to get Dawn out of her mind. She'd sent a letter, addressed to Dawn alone, Wednesday. By Friday she'd packed her shit and settled the bill at the sorry excuse for a motel she'd been staying at. Settling had involved giving the innkeeper (really just a drunk old coot) a good look at her goods, and Faith thought it was a pretty sweet deal for the old guy. She made sure to lean well down over the counter at the front desk, all the while explaining that her parents hadn't wired her the cash she needed to pay up (but she'd forward the cash in the mail just as soon as she could, really, thanks mister). Faith actually thought it was kind of cute, the old guy staring at her tits, a glazed look in his eyes (from an afternoon nip at the hard shit or from getting a peek at her nips, she wasn't sure which). She had a sneaking suspicion the old fart even felt a stirring where he might not have felt one for years. So, it all worked out well for the both of them.
The guy even called the cab for her.
* * *
In all his years as a cabbie, Al Samuels was never as shocked as when the young girl - the young girl ALONE at night outside a seedy motel - asked him to drive her half-way across the state. Until she gave him the cash, up front. And then kissed him - right smack on the lips. Not a lover's kiss, but not a peck from your s!ster, either. This little thing was something else.
So he plodded on through the night, fighting the need to sleeep that crept up on him with a sudden ferocity - it was well past the end of his shift - and kept a wary eye on his fare in the rear-view mirror. What was her story? How the hell did she have that much cash on her, had she mugged someone? Al had been mugged three times in his fifteen years behind the wheel, and twice, it had been by youngish looking females. The type that immediately caused you to let your guard down, when you were young and more than just a little green. He was a long way from green these days, and the girl had a vibe to her, but hell, she'd given him the cash. If she was out to roll him, why even play at being a legit fare? Who was she, and why the rush to get to a rat hole like where she was going?
The Girl - it was the only thing he could think of her as. He hadn't got her name, and she'd fallen asleeep almost as soon as they hit the road, so 'the girl' would have to do. Speaking of sleeep, she was muttering in hers. Dreaming, obviously. Every now and then a soft moan would escape her throat, which, even in the grimy rear-view mirror looked red, juicy, and inviting. He'd love to slip his cock between those lips. He could imagine her sucking on it in her sleeep like a new-born calf at its mother's tit. Could imagine unloading on that pouty, ruby-coloured mouth, and-
SHIT!
The blare of a semi's horn brought him back to reality. He'd almost crossed over into oncoming traffic while off on his little fantasy excursion. And now his fare was awake.
"Wicked close, dude," she admonished him. "The wad I gave you, I wanna arrive alive, you dig?"
Yeah, he dug. And he had a wad for her - well, in his dreams. Which, all k**ding aside, were going to get him into trouble. He didn't want to do this, but...
"Look, miss. I'm way past the end of my regular working hours. How about I drop you off someplace, refund you the difference, I'll call in, get another cab here. Better that than I drive us into a ditch."
He watched her in the mirror. She didn't seem to be listening to him at all. She seemed to be studying the backs of her hands with great interest, actually.
"Nah-uh sugar. I paid YOU. How's this - we stop for a breather. You take a nap, I'll get a breath of fresh air. There's a rest area back a ways - we passed the sign not five minutes ago. Right before you decided to play chicken with the eighteen-wheeler."
Al let an audible sigh escape. He was too far down the road now to make it home at any reasonable hour, and he really shouldn't make the girl wait for another yellow-jacket - getting a cab out here at this hour could take a while. Signalling for the next exit, he circled around and merged back onto the freeway returning the way he had come. The whole time, his fare never said a word. And sure enough, there was a rest stop just a few miles up the road.
How the fuck had she known about it? Al had been sure the girl was asleeep the entire time he’d been watching her.
* * *
The girl was DEFINITELY asleeep the second he parked the car after pulling into the rest stop parking lot. The pavement was cracked and marked with potholes, the last minute or so of the ride terribly bumpy, but she nodded off right away nonetheless. So much for her "breath of fresh air." He peered at her through the mirror once more. The rise and fall of her chest was mesmerizing. Damn, the little vixen had great tits. He watched her for a good ten minutes before falling asleeep himself.
When he awoke, something wasn't quite right. He was still crammed in the front seat of the cab, but things seemed even more cramped than before.
A glance to his side explained it - the raven-haired vixen had joined him. What's more, her head was in his lap, her body curled up on the passenger seat beside him, coiled like a snake. Despite the tight confines, she actually looked comfortable, but he didn't give it much thought, because, well, her head was in his lap! And her hand was massaging his crotch in a circular motion. What the hell was she up to?!
"Good morning sunshine. I wanna play," she informed him.
Holy Shit! At that moment, Al Samuels could find no better way to describe the situation. And he must have said it out loud as he thought it, because the dark-haired broad who'd decided to join him - and give him an impromptu hand job - smiled. In fact, he was so blown away that it never occurred to him until later to wonder how she had found her way into the front of the locked cab, given the safety shield separating front from back.
"Best day of your life, sugar? If not, it's gonna be. Tell you what... my name's Faith, and I have a whole hell of a lot in you. I've got faith that if I let you cream in my mouth, you'll still be able to get me off. Think you can handle that?"
As she spoke, she freed Al from his pants and swallowed him whole. Incredibly, the entire time he thought of his ex-wife. At least until he shot off in the little chick's mouth. She downed it in an exaggerated swallowing motion and smiled. Then she climbed up from his lap and whispered into his ear.
"Time to see if you can live up to your end of the deal. Just so you know, I'm one hard bitch to get off."
* * *
Faith examined the Plexiglas wall between the front and back seats of the cab. It was designed to keep rides from jumping the cabbie, she guessed. Just had a little slot to push money through and to talk into. She had no idea what it was supposed to do if the ride had a gun - the slot that allowed for money to be passed through pretty much eliminated any security the damn thing provided - but the larger problem was that it was in her FUCKING WAY! She wanted fun, and she wanted it now, damn it! The front of the cab - which she'd got into by breaking the lock on the door with sheer strength - wasn't roomy enough, and they really couldn't go outside; even at this time of night there might be another motorist or two milling about the washrooms and rest area.
Giving a quick demo of what Slayer strength really was, she slammed the barrier with both hands. HARD. It didn't break - instead, the entire length of the protective shield ripped from its mounting and sailed into the back seat.
Perfect.
Mission accomplished, Faith stood in the back seat, facing the back window. She spread her legs, bent over, and placed the palms of her hands on the seats. Tossing her hair back over her shoulder, she looked right at El Capitan, Mr. Cab Driver.
* * *
"Yank my pants down, and eat my ass," she demanded.
Patience being the very least of her virtues, she snapped at the frozen expression of bewilderment on the cabbie's face.
"Fucking eat it you dick. So, help me god I'd better feel your tongue so far up my crack that it's stirring things up in my stomach."
Al Samuels knew better than to make her ask a third time. Not that she'd really asked at all - the first two instances had been commands, orders – he’d just been too dumbfounded to carry them out. Once what she was asking sunk in, however, he made his way to her backside - not a long journey in the confines of a car - and undid the button of her almost painted-on black jeans. He pulled them down her legs roughly - forget loving caresses, this bitch was in heat, and he could tell she liked (nay, needed it) - rough.
He was not at all surprised to find the girl was without knickers. Instead, he was face to face with a shaved twat and a pink puckered shithole. Faith's backside glistened just a little with a few sparse beads of sweat. From Al's perspective, it seemed as if she was quivering just a little in anticipation. It made him think of her like a cat.
He flicked his tongue out once, then twice, over the red rosebud of her anus. Fuck, he'd never done anything like this before - he'd fucked his ex-wife in the backdoor only sporadically, usually when they were drunk (on those odd occasions she transformed from the frigid crone she had become over the years back to the adventurous girl he'd met in high school) - but he’d never even considered sticking his tongue there.
Still, when in Rome…
He continued teasing her, occasionally lick down towards her slit, and then back up again. He stroked the small of her back with one hand, and before long was lost in what he was doing. Not that it would last.
The teasing set Faith off. She wanted action, not some lovey-dovey shit. "Get it in there you fuck. Come on, tongue my ass, PUSH IT IN!"
As he struggled to comply, Faith ground her rear back into his face. She managed to reach one arm around herself and get a hold of his hair, using her grip to force him further into her backside. Slayer strength being what it was, she had to be careful not to suffocate him. Still, she could feel his nose pressing into her lower back, and feel her tongue stretching to get up inside her pucker in a desperate attempt to please her. The old dude was doing a pretty sweet job reaming her ass, but she needed more.
"Use your hands, dude, I have a fuckin' cunt too you know" she demanded.
She got off abusing guys this way. A flash of her ass and they'd be her complete slave. Just like this one. The dark-haired Slayer wondered if he had a wife or a girlfriend. Probably not the former as he lacked a ring, but then again who knew - maybe he slipped it off while on duty for fear of being jumped (or in case he picked up a randy little fuck slut like herself).
Now that he was jamming his fingers into her - three had slid easily into her twat, and a fourth had been added shortly thereafter - Faith could feel herself reaching the edge. A final thrust of his tongue into her backside pushed her over, and she came all over the cabbie's face. She saw stars - dancing around a naked, oiled up Dawn, and fuck, here was something new, and big sis was there as well, on all fours in front of Little Miss Jailbait.
Faith liked this image.
A lot.
A squirming - that soon developed into a frantic thumping - between her legs brought the Slayer back down to reality, where it became apparent that the cab driver turned fuck-toy couldn't breathe. It took a second or two more for Faith to realize that was because she was still pressing his face into her ass. Quickly she released. Sometimes slayer strength was a real pain: he'd be no good to her passed out.
* * *
Moments later, a gasping, panting Al Samuels found himself staring down at the buxom girl with the long, black hair while she sucked his rod for the second time that evening. He became entranced by the bobbing motion her head made - and, shit time to face facts, the incredible feelings her mouth was bringing out in him. She was by far the best cocksucker he'd ever had the fortune to cross paths with - not that he was all that experienced.
She took him deep into her throat, and a moaned "Faith," escaped his lips in an almost inaudible whisper. From her look - and the fact that she'd ceased swallowing his member - it seemed that he'd pissed her off.
"Don't say my name like it means shit to you," she snapped. "This is a sport fuck, plain and simple."
Al simply nodded his head, which seemed to satisfy her. Boundaries sufficiently drawn, Faith went back to work on the problem at hand - the cock in her hand. She slurped every inch of him for a few more minutes until she sensed he was at the brink, then let his wet, spit-shined member slip free of her lips. She climbed into his lap, her back to him, and engorged herself on his rod in one smooth motion, then proceeded to give him the ride of his life. She could see herself riding him in the rear-view mirror, see his face distorted in the throes of pleasure, but the sight did nothing to get her off.
Keeping her eyes closed did.
With her eyes closed, Faith could envision Dawn thrusting beneath her, a long, black, oiled strap-on punching into her twat. She felt the driver rubbing the index finger of his free hand between the cheeks of her ass, then pushing it in, violating her anus, and imagined it was Dawn. Dawn would add another, then a third, then reach around and make her clean them, but the cab driver didn't do that. He did pick up the pace though, and continued to stab into her shitter with his finger, while his other hand groped her tits under her top, pawing them and occasionally twisting her nipples. He was anything but gentle; other girls, not being Slayers, would have found the experience painful, but Faith loved it. She loved the searing heat that seemed to shoot through her entire breast, with its center at the tip of her nipple. And she loved that it was Dawn doing this to her, causing her to lose control.
The illusion was shattered, however, when with a grunt, the cabbie spewed his seed inside her, biting down on her shoulder as he did. The bite pushed her over the edge as nothing else could, and she came as well, but in the end, she wanted more - she wanted Dawn.
The cabbie was spent though, she could tell right away. Fuck, why couldn't some young stud have been driving? The go-all-night, ten-inch dick sort?
She ordered him back on the road as soon as she climbed off him.
* * *
They made good time. When the cab reached the outskirts of where she needed to go, she ordered the driver to pull over.
"This'll do," she told him, and made her exit from the back seat, where she'd stretched out (leaving the busted safety glass on the floor) for the remainder of the ride.
"You sure miss?" the guy asked. He still looked red in the face, worn out from... well, her. "This area's got a bad rep, I know it and I don't even come here much."
"I can take care of myself," Faith replied, hooking an eyebrow towards the busted-out glass in the backseat.
"Yeah... yeah, I guess you can," he said thoughtfully. And then, unsure of what to say next, he began muttering some sort of belated thanks, only to have Faith cut him off.
"Forget it. If you can," she teased. Then, before turning away and heading into town, she dug into her bag, pulling up a worn pair of thong panties and tossing them into the surprised drivers lap. "A souvenir. Not that I wear them all that often. Although, they're probably pretty fucking nasty, cuz I haven't had a chance to do the wash in, well... I don't remember when." She smiled. "I'm sure you'll put them to good use though."
With that, Faith headed off towards the town - towards Dawn - as the cab sped off back the way it came.
She’d be seeing her girl soon.
THE END
Trisha
- 26.02.2020
- 42
- 0
