Page 43 of My Girl

“Go on now. Lick it up,” I say. She licks leisurely, her tongue like a snail inching across my shoe. “Good girl,” I mock. “Doing everything I tell you.” My tone fills with agitation to ensure that she knows I’ve caught on to her game: “Did I do it just like you thought I would?”

She stops, twisting her neck to look at me. “What?”

“You think I want to use you like this.”

She huffs. “I don’t?—”

“Fuck yourself then,” I demand.

After a second of confusion, her instincts take over: she’s back on her haunches, spreading herself wide. Her hand shoves down the front of her thong, her skirt crumpled around her. She rubs her clit like her life depends on it.

“Eager to please, aren’t you?” I ask.

“Please,” she begs.

I smirk. “Because you asked so nicely.”

I pull out my dick, the erection rock solid from the anticipation. She has no idea what’s coming next. God damn, it hurts, but I strain, using my muscles until the piss fights the erection. The yellow stream crashes into her, ammonia wafting in the air.

Her jaw drops. She lunges out of the way. I step in front of her. Cornering her. Her eyes race, but her legs spread again as the piss soaks into her clothes.

“Beg for it,” I repeat.

“No—”

The stream trickles over her chin and neck, and as she closes her eyes, disgust falls over her face. Still, her hips inch forward, her piss-soaked pussy humping my boot.

“Look at yourself,” I say. “You’re grinding on my boots again.” I fist my dick harder, each ring of metal tight against my flesh. “What a little trash whore.”

“Crave,” she moans, and for the first time, the begging is real. “Please?—”

“You watched me kill people. You didn’t turn me in. You let me fist you with a spiked glove.”

“Let you?” she wails, but the slut keeps rubbing herself off on my boot.

“You licked spit from my shoes. Licked my boots like a shoe cleaner. You just let me piss on you, and you rubbed your hungry little pussy on my boots like you weregratefulfor it.” I lean in closer. “I could tell you to eat my ass, and I wouldn’t even have to try very hard, would I? You’d stick out your tongue like a hungry little bitch and let me sit on your face.”

“Fuck y?—”

I reach down, pressing my gloved hands against her pussy. The arousal oozes out, a different, slimier consistency than the piss. She curses under her breath, but it’s a lie.

“Would you eat my ass, little girl?” I ask. She writhes harder into my hand, smashing my fingers between my boot and her pussy. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Licking a stranger’s asshole. Feeling me fuck myself while you lick my asshole clean.”

“No—”

“Your cunt says differently.”

I shove my hand down her skirt and thong, inserting my finger into her pussy. She moans. I use my finger like a hook and drag her closer to me. “A little, bottom-munching whore like you loves to eat ass, doesn’t she?”

“Crave—”

“Beg me for it.”

Her eyelids flutter again. Hesitation.

Irritation simmers inside of me. She knows what she wants; she just has to admit it.

I remove my hand and stand up straight, taking away the friction she desperately needs. Her bottom lip trembles.