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Everyday he dreaded going to school. High School had never been “as advertised” to Jess. He was a loner, an outcast. He had not even a handful of friends, everyone knew everyone, but that was about it. Recently he had been feeling more and more depressed, his thoughts sometimes turning to suicide. Home life was...well it wasn't a home anymore... “Good morning Mr. Knight”, said his homeroom teacher, Mr. Toer. “Morning”, Jess replied back. He took his seat and started on the homework he didn't finish last night. Math was a particularly hard subject for Jess. He was just one bad grade away from failing the subject for the semester, but at this point that was the last thing on his mind. Staring at the blank sheet of paper in front of him, his mind started to wander. “What am I even doing here? I have no purpose, no desire, no happiness. If I decided to just run away today, will anyone care? Will my parents notice if I'm not there?” The bell for the end of homeroom rang, jolting him. I loved it. I reveled in how thick he was. How much he stretched my pussy. How he made me gasp and shudder. My eyes fluttered.“Pound me, Daddy. I need to cum again. On your huge cock. Oh, yes, Daddy. Please, please, make me cum. I need it. I want to spasm on your shaft.”“Because you're a whore?”“A wicked, wanton slattern.” His groin crushed my clit every time he buried into me, sending wonderful pleasure sparking to my depths. My pussy clenched on his huge dick. The sore ache from my cherry popping was quickly replaced but the absolute delight of his cock reaming through me. My eyes rolled back in my head. I bucked hard against him, grinding my clit into him.Gasping, moaning, shuddering. His dick was amazing. My daddy's cock churned my naughty pussy. Pleasure rippled out of it as my body tensed. Another orgasm built inside of me, ready to explode out of my cunt and flood my body with rapture.I humped so hard. I was ready for it. His every stroke brought me closer and closer. I.
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There was no sweat, no fevered heat and no nightmarish scream. There was only silence. And a stillness that was broken only by the spasmodic shuddering under the sheets. The coarse, dry surface of her lips resisted the brush of her tongue and she struggled to swallow and wet her throat. There had been no nightmare, at least none that she was aware of, only the violent shaking of her arms and legs. There was no sweaty fever. In fact, her skin was dry and an ache pulsed in her muscles. She gasped as another spasm jerked through her then cast her eyes about. Her room was swathed in a darkness that was broken only by the moonlight that splashed in through the window and across her bed. She made a conscious effort to calm herself and breathe deeply. A last tremor ran through her body but faded fast. She had been shaken awake. Pushing aside her confusion for a moment she focussed on her need for a drink. Her mouth was at that stage whereby it was so dry that it was sticky and her lips.

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