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Spanish Homework

2338 words | 3 |4.00

I hated my dad, cock blocking. I mean I loved him too, but I wanted to get back at him…

This time, he went to far. He picked me up from school, but he even had them call my teacher from the office so I couldn’t get away again. Since I left from school the other night, and came back home late, with semen on my pantleg.

It was just a hand-job, my boyfriend was willing to take it slow, and happy to just feel me up under my shirt, but of course, my dad thought the worse. That I was out whoring, because I was dressed “Like a whore,” when he would know.

Since the only way he could get layed any more was paying for it, and mom couldn’t put up with it for very long, so what gives? It’s okay for him to go out, and bang whores whenever he got a hardon, but he doesn’t want me having a boyfriend, because that makes me a whore?

He just gets upset, and says the worst thing he can think of when he’s mad, but that’s no excuse. I’m not a whore, and I never want to be, but I’m 15, and I’m starting to get needs. Sexual needs, and they’re distracting me from my schoolwork.

So, I kept my shirt buttoned up, so they couldn’t see my bra in class, and get boners when they’re supposed to be paying attention to the teacher, but I must’ve been fertile. I could practically feel my egg falling out of a fallopian tube with a splash, like an egg dropped in a toilet.

Then, he locked me in my room, so I went right to the window, and pulled the blinds up. Great view of the alley, and the trashcans, through the security bars. They were like that when we moved in, to keep burglars out, but now they just made my room feel more like a prison, and I guess the block masons were working late.

“Huh!” At least one of the workers walked past, and didn’t even look up. Let alone see me out of the corner of my eye, but I unlatched the window, and pushed it up. I already had my collar unbuttoned, and my tie off. The sweater vest on the chair by my forgotten homework, but then he came back, with a cinder block in each hand.

“Hey, uh.” I leaned over, “Whatcha doing?” He saw me, but he didn’t stop. He just kept walking, but before he came back. I had my blouse undone, and tied it up inside the bib of my dress. The uniform dress, at least it’s not an all girl school, but. Still, not a whole lot you can do with it, which is why he started checking my bookbag in the morning, so I couldn’t smuggle something a little sexier to wear out, after school. He came back for more. “Hey, you speak English?”

“Of course,” heavily accented. “But I have work to do.” This time he stopped, and glanced down at my bra exposed. The winter uniform, with a dress like overalls, except for being Night Watch Stuart Tartan. He came back, carrying cinder blocks again, but this time, he looked, and held them up. To show me.

“When do you get off?” He kept walking, but looked back.

“When the work is done.”

I saw the truck parked on the sidewalk, at the end of the alley when dad walked me home from the garage. At least we’re on the ground floor, but I guessed there was no way, they’d be able to turn that truck around in the street, and back in to drop off the cinder blocks.

So, he had to carry them, 2 at a time, and lucky me. Here he comes. “Well, I need to work on my Spanish.”

“Can’t help you, I speak Portuguess.” The way he said it, “From Brazil?”

“Oh,” I nodded, and tried to stick my head out of the window, to watch his ass move in the back of his grubby jeans, spattered with cement.

He came right back, with cinder blocks, “I know a little Spanish.” He shrugged, and lifted the cinder blocks out the sides, to flex his biceps. “For working with South Americans, and Puerto Ricans, but not much.”

I guess that explains why he’s so dark? Curly hair too, but not like African American curly, and short, but long enough on top, and in the back to curl up a little. “Uh!” Almost like a mullet? I didn’t care, he could have had a pig head, and tusks like an Orc, and I would have wanted him.

Not because of dad, I was way past worrying about what he might think, if he came in to check on me, but. Okay, that was still in the back of my mind.

‘Two more.” He held up 2 fingers, “Then I get off.” He winked, and hurried, to get the last 2. I couldn’t wait to get my underwear off.

Bloomers FFS, or for not fucking sake. Even if I did let my knees slip apart, and gave my boyfriend a view up between my legs. All he could see was the ruffles around the hem. They’re like cotton shorts, with cuffs around the legs, and a drawstring around my waist.

“I just have to get my pay for today.” He practically jogged, with 2 cinder blocks, but I took the time to grab some panties out of my dresser drawer.

“Uh!” I was so wet, so I dried my cunt, with the crotch as if I’d been wearing them, and rushed back to the window. Slipping the straps off of my shoulder, so I could push the bib down to my waist, and stand up, with my shirt still knotted, but my bra.

My plain old utility bra, to match my plain white cotton panties, because that’s all dad would buy me to wear. He doesn’t want me going out, dressed like a whore, after all. “You strip, for me?”

“Huh?” I blinked, and shook my head, but he held up a $20.00 bill. “No, I don’t want your money. Keep it.” I pushed his hand back. Feeling up my sweaty tummy and pinching the knot. One handed, “I’m not doing this for money, or for you, I’m doing it for me. So, get your pants down.”

He looked around. “Out here?”

“Well, I can’t invite you in, my dad.”

“Oh.” He nodded. “Yes, I see.” But he got his pants unbuttoned, and held up his gut to fish around in his shorts.

“Huh, you don’t know me, so don’t pretend that you have any idea what my father is like. He’s not racist.” He’s just overprotective, and gives mixed messages about prostitution. It’s okay for somebody else’s wife, or daughter. To make a little money on the side, but if I show so much as a little knee, I’m a whore?

The knot came free, and the corners of my blouse slipped out of my fingers. “Huh!”

“See?” He took a step back, from the window sill, holding it up, and squeezing it, so the skin slipped back from the head.

I nodded, wide eyes, and closed my mouth. Before I started drooling. “Yeah, huh. You want to see more?” Reaching up behind my back. “Get it hard, get it good and hard for me.”

“Show me more, and it will be plenny hard for you.”

“Huh!” I relaxed, when I felt the sweaty cups go loose, and let my arm down. Pulling the sides of my blouse up, to dry under them, and squeeze them. Looking down, so I could make sure the edges pulled back to reveal my nipples right when I wanted to, I looked up. “Yeah, jerk it, jerk it harder for me. Jerk off all over the place, huh!”

“Show me more!”

“Huh!” I remembered the panties I dropped, and bent over. With a shake to make them jiggle. slipping my blouse off my shoulders before I stood up, then my bra straps fell down. “God, I’m so wet. Smell how wet I got, just talking to you.” He took them, and held them up to his nose. Took a deep breath, but his eyes never left my chest. His hand never stopped working on his cock, so the foreskin bunched up around the big red warm looking head, and sure enough, I was fertile.

I wanted him inside me, pumping me full of babies. Mixed race babies, but that’s the real reason for my father’s cock-blocking. He didn’t want me to be another statistic, and other unwed teenage mother, like a whore. “HhuhHhuh!”

“Here.” He held the soiled underwear through the bars, his hand right inside the window, and dropped them. Pulled the front of my skirt up when I got closer, and my knees hit the wall. I had to hold onto the bars, but he felt up under there, and his fingers were rough. So rough, and strong, thick, and. “Uh, huh! Fuck me, yeah, fuck me more.”

“One more?”

“Uh all of them, I can take them all, fuck, ahn!” My knees went weak, so I slipped down a little, but just kept humping his hand harder, and his thumb got stuck up. My pubes curling around it, and the web right against my clit. “AIGH! Ah uh, Huh!” I just he;d onto the bars, for dear life. “Huh!” Tried to breathe. “Huh!” Swallowed, when the drool started running out of the corner of my mouth. Like the piss running down my legs. I don’t know if he found my G spot, or not, but I could feel him searching for it. That squeezed my bladder, and I couldn’t help squirting a little in his hand, but he didn’t mind.

“You’re hurting my hand.”

“Oh,” I stopped clamping it between my legs, and bending the wrist back over the window sill, then grunted when his fingers slipped out. “Uhn!” I almost fell down, and squirmed around on the floor in orgasmic extacy, but then I saw his hardon. Still hard, he just held it, with the forskin pinched back, and rubbed under the head with a fingertip. “Huh, I want your cum.” I reached through the bars, and he let go, to get his strong rough fingers on my breasts. “Huh, yeah, cum for me. Don’t hold back.” Pumping it, and cupping his hair balls with the other hand.

“A la verga!” Down the alley. He turned, and yelled something back.

“No, tell him to stick around. Tell him he’s next.”

“Uh!” His hands relaxed. Loosened their grip on my chest, and then I felt the pulse. In his balls first, so I could drop them, and cup my hand in front of his spurting head. Catch his load, and then I saw his friend. His Mexican friend.

“Quanto?”

“No, no Dinero.” He shook his head.

“Sin de’nierro.” He rolled the R. Correcting the Brazillian’s Spanish, but the first workman backed up. Turned away, tucking in his flaccid penis, with the skin slipping back over the head again, as it shriveled up. Satisfied, he ran off, but the Mexican? I guessed.

“Where are you going?”

He came right back, with a couple cinder blocks. Set them down, right under the window, and climbed up. Holding onto the security bar, with his fly right above the window sill.

“Smart.” I got down, and started with the button. It might surprise you to hear that I’ve never actually had a penis in my mouth, before. Only handjobs, and never made a cent for them.

I don’t know now. Honestly, I’ve been trying so hard, not to be a whore, but I have to think that I would be pretty good at it. What, I’m too good to take their money? I’m somehow better than a cheap bus station whore, when I should be out there, in the alley. Waiting for men to drive up, all night. I could make a lot of money, and my legit job.

God, it sucks. Working for a living, when I could be making a lot of money doing what I love. “Snh?”

I just got lost in the moment there, until his thumb, and fingers bushed my lips. Pulling back, so just the tip stuck in past my teeth, and the foreskin bunched up against my lips.

Don’t swallow, for the love of god, don’t swallow it. He’s probably got ever disease in the book. No, not because he’s Hispanic, but because he’s a construction worker, and he’s probably. No definitely, he asked his Brazilian friend how much?

So, he had been with whores. He has had this dick in at least one whore, maybe even up her ass?

“Huh!” I just sat back, on the floor.

“Gracias.” He stepped down, and grabbed the cinder blocks, on his way out.

I spit it out, holding up my skirt, with 1 load already wiped off on it, and caught the wad in the middle. Then, I took it off, folded the bib under, and put it on my bed.

Knowing dad would come in to check on me, some time. The first thing he’d see is the evidence of his failure. He can keep me locked up, like a princess in a tower, but he can’t keep the dick out. No matter how he tries, I’m going to find a way.

So, I put a bra on, and panties. Fresh clean underwear, and finally sat down to get started on my homework.

With any luck, someone else might stop by to see me, in my underwear. You know, I think I like Hispanic men? I know for sure now, that I like foreskins, a lot, and my boyfriend was circumcised, because he’s white.

In fact, I really have to ask myself if he’s what I want? “Huh! Snh!” I can smell the sperm, clear across the room, but I really need to work on my Spanish, especially. Most of them are Catholic, or Spanish Catholic, right?

Maybe I just haven’t met the right man yet?

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3 Comments

  • Reply Jenny ID:1i2kovirk0c

    I lost my virginity at 12, I like it. So I decided to find other guys. They all would wear condoms, except the Mexican guys. They said they pull out but never did. I guess that’s why I like Mexicans more. For some reason I never got pregnant until I was almost 15.

    • vive-la-baise ID:3i7n800lk0d

      did you write your story in here?

    • Debbie ID:7ylren3fij

      I always wanted to try a Mexican, blacks are good to