Debbie — Deeper depravity

Perverting Debbie

I decided to take Debbie home. I was still leaking from the encounter with the van driver, even though I hadn’t touched him, or he me. The closeness of a stranger's cock, fully hard, expelling cum, had had an effect on me. Driving home gave me a chance to reflect on that effect.

I couldn’t tell myself that having Debbie there gave me confidence nothing untoward would happen. You’ve seen her. So slight. I had to conclude I was mastering my phobia. One small step at a time. And that made me elated. Being elated made me need sex. Perverted sex. My eighteen-year-old companion the perfect vehicle.

I knew she liked to be punished. To role-play. I discovered that, at least with her, I enjoyed being the dominant partner. The one to administer pain. Weird in the extreme considering the reason for my man-phobia was suffering a similar fate. But she enjoyed it. I hadn’t. I couldn’t inflict pain on anyone who was not enjoying the experience, of that I was positive.

I broached the subject as we drove. “Fancy going home with me and doing some role play.”

“Oh yeah. I’m in the mood now.”

“Okay, starting now?”

“Yes, Ms. Parker.” I glanced across at her and she smiled. “I’m sorry if you think I’ve been bad.”

“I don’t think you’ve been bad. I know you’ve been bad. And I don’t think you are sorry at all. Strip off and give me your clothes.”

We had about fifteen miles to get home and it seemed a shame to waste them! She did as I’d asked and I threw the garments into the back of the car out of reach of us both.

I was feeling stupidly adventurous. I undid my blouse and let it hang over my breasts. That’s not the adventurous part! I drove into the next petrol station I saw that looked busy, parked up next to a pump, and got out, leaving the door open. My young friend's naked body available for all to view. I made no attempt to pull my blouse together and rather carelessly let it flap open even more as I pushed the hose into the tank. The guy filling up from the other side of the pump noticed and, for some unaccountable reason, slowed his hose right down. Shit. What was I doing? My nipples weren’t covered. I could feel his eyes penetrating. They were making me leak. He hadn’t noticed Debbie. I smiled at him. “Don’t ignore my friend,” I said, nodding toward the open door. Debbie was idly watching a youth fill up his motorbike while fingering herself. His eyes! He glanced into his own car. A woman was sitting in the passenger seat, looking at her phone. He looked undecided. About what I’m not sure but his tank was full and he reluctantly hung up the hose, smiled at me, and drove away.

“Did he like that?” Debbie asked when I got back in the car.

“I should think so.” I put my hand on her pussy. “So did you, you little minx. You’ve been bad again. Made my car seat wet. Punishment time.”

No more messing around. I had to find out if doing what I planned resulted in the turn-on I hoped for.

We got home. I’ve described my estate before; a soulless grouping of houses too young to have developed any community spirit other than twitching neighbourhood watch lookouts. Well, if any of them were on duty, they were about to have something worth reporting. There were no people on the street, no diligent men washing their cars. Which was a shame. “Okay, Debbie in you come.” She hesitated. “Don’t I at least get my skirt?”

“You forget yourself, Debbie. How do you address me?”

“Sorry Ms. Parker.”

“Better. No, you don’t. If anyone sees you, you will have to suffer the embarrassment.”

We were role-playing for sure. There was no way Debbie would be embarrassed. I could see the excitement of walking naked to my door in broad daylight in her eyes. As for me, being the strict school ma’am was fun and erotic.

As I suspected, we reached the safety of my hallway without anybody obviously spotting us.

“Go into the kitchen. Remain standing until I return.” (I’ve no experience of being a Dom, although I think some of you readers have. Perhaps you could give me advice as I was just winging it.)

Debbie disappeared into the kitchen and I went upstairs to change. It didn’t take long. I divested myself of blouse and jeans and simply put on some boots. You know the ones! I always feel good in them but couldn’t remember ever wearing them when I was otherwise naked. That felt even better. I went back downstairs, picked up a horse crop, and went into the kitchen.

I slapped the crop against my thigh and watched Debbie’s reaction. I hoped to see if she showed any sign of wanting me to use it or not.

Her eyes widened. It could have been fear, but she then said, “Oh Ms Parker. Yes, I do deserve that.”

I couldn’t believe my reaction. I moistened up. The thought of using the crop on her and in her was intoxicating.

“Right, bend over the table.”

I didn’t know if I should begin with gentle taps. I did last time but to hell with it. I put the crop across her buttocks. “You do deserve this don’t you?”

“Yes, Ms.”

“And hard?”

“Yes, Ms.”

I didn’t do it as hard as I could but by no means was it gentle. She gasped. “Fuck!”

“You deserve more?” At least this way I knew she wanted it.

“Yes, Ms.” I swung again. I wish I’d thought of recording it but didn’t know then she’d be quite so open about being on camera. My tits swayed with my swing. My pussy leaked.

“Fuck!”

“Your language is disgusting.” I struck again without asking. And harder.

Just a groan this time. Accompanied by very red buttocks. I couldn’t strike again. I had other priorities.

I left her as she was bent over the kitchen table, and knelt between her legs. I widened her stance, pulled her pussy lips apart, and lapped at her juices. My thumb found her clit. More moans. Of contentment rather than pain. My tongue sank deep into her young cunt. I had the urge to have her suck me but owed her this.

I picked up the crop, rubbed it along her lips. Before I could do anything more she squatted down on to it and started fucking herself. Hard deep thrusts. I was amazed at how much of the crop disappeared. “Fingers Trace. Please!” The words were breathed out. She had taken herself to the edge. My fingers joined the crop. One of them. She was young and tight. In to the knuckle. She cried out. “Fuck!” A spurt of her juices forced out. My face the lucky recipient.

She squirmed round so she faced me, her legs still apart. “Here,” she said smiling at me, “you wanted to give me this last time.” She opened her lips and pissed over me! Oh fuck. It caught me by surprise but I recovered, opened my mouth, and collected her pee. I swallowed the first mouthful but then when I’d refilled I stood up, pushed her to her knees, grabbed both sides of her head so she couldn’t avoid me, and let the pee dribble out over her. She struggled to avoid it. Role playing or did she hate it? Depraved. Debauched. I was hugely turned on. My mouth empty I kissed her. She returned the kiss. Our lips grinding into each other with urgency. Our passion was out of control. Her fingers frigging my cunt. Mine hers. We somehow slid to the floor rolling in the pee I’d failed to swallow. Wanton. Total. We erupted one after the other. I can’t recall who came first. Those last few minutes a blur.

This eighteen year old as depraved as me.

I can’t wait for her to return at the end of term.