Brat

You're in a tight, blue t-shirt with some band's logo stretched across your young tits, and your legs bare under scuffed jean shorts. A black baseball cap on the table, white lettering saying "BLAH BLAH BLAH".

Checkered shirt draped across the chair. My shirt.

You look at me, pissed off as I approach. Setting your book down you hiss, "I've been here an hour."

"The meeting went on too long," I explained. I don't take a seat. "I texted."

You cross your arms, your cheeks bulged with an annoyed pout. Your mouth's so pretty. "You left me waiting. I thought a grown man wouldn't do that."

"I'm sorry," I say, gently. The people at the next table have turned to stare. They're sizing me up. It's a contrast, and there's question in their eyes. "I had to stay."

You're legal here, of course, but the age gap invites scrutiny.

"I thought I was with a real man," you say in your pretty southern drawl, your eyes shining with something. Irritation, certainly, but something under there. I've seen this performance before. "A real man who doesn't let his boss push him around like he's some boy working the counter at McDonald's. You just a boy too, Zayn?"

"Kylee." My tone is even, almost dead calm. Pretense or not, your words are getting to me. This wasn't the right place for this, but that was part of why you were doing it. "We can talk about this at home. Come on." He reach for your shoulder, but you shake it off.

"No, I'll stay here. You obviously don't mind either way," you say, raising your voice just a tad. More people are staring. "Maybe I'll go home with one those boys over there instead -" you point towards a gaggle of high schoolers, blonde and fit and tanned. "Bet they'd treat me real nice. Appreciate me, like someone like you won't."

The tightening bulge across my jeans proving how hard your words are making me, I growl, "That's enough, young lady. Get your ass up, now."

"Hey, man, I don't think she wants to go." It's one of the high schoolers, a handsome boy your age, standing behind me. "How about you take your ass back where you came from and leave the girl alone?"

I turn around slowly to face him. He gets a good look at me, eyes opening wide as he apologizes and sits back down.

I turn back to you, and bark, "If you're done making a scene, we can still make the movie."

I go to the counter and pay for your coffee and bagel as you gather your things. Meekly following me to the car, you mumble something when we get inside.

"What's that?"

"I don't want to go the movie. I want to go home," you say, quietly, staring at your lap, clutching the cap in your hands.

"What?"

I've cancelled plans because you wanted a date. Because you complained that I hadn't taken you out in weeks.

"Do you have any idea -" I begin, but you cut me off, looking me right in the eye.

"Your home. Take me to your home."

Your little pink hand reaches for the bulge over my jeans. It's warm. You stroke me though the denim, looking me right in the eye, mouth hanging slightly open as you pant.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Daddy! Oh my fucking God, Daddy, yes!"

I have your slim, pink arms clutched in my big, dark hands, squeezing them tightly, holding you upright against my broad, hairy chest. Your head turned to look towards me with your mouth gaping open, eyes staring in adoration. The baseball cap on your head, worn backwards, the words making me furious, angry, as my cock slides in and out

Thrusting up

Sliding out

Thrusting up

Your pussy making the loudest noises as the fat bulge of the middle of circumcised penis stretches you and then leaves you, air pushed in and out of your tight, jailbait pussy. Jailbait everywhere but here.

Your fat, white ass pink, red handprints covering it the skin, shiny with my spit. A big bitemark on your left cheek. Slapping against my groin. My abs. Soft and jiggly flesh striking my belly. Thwack. Thwap.

"Fucking brat," I growl, my fist leaving your arm, a bruise shining on it where I'd grip, and clutching your throat. "Fucking whore, little white piece of shit. Think you'd rather fuck a boy, huh?" I squeeze your neck,

"Oh God, no, no, Daddy! I-ghhk!" I cut your voice off with my fingers. Just your excited breathing through your noise, hyperventilating like an animal as I tame your fuckhole.

"You're mine," I grunt as my other hand reaches under you, hooking your thigh up and lifting it as I keep fucking into you.

"Mine! Mine to rape, mine to fuck, my fucking little white cunt!"

Your breathing rises in volume, pitch and intensity, your pussy soppy and fluttering and squeezing as your cunt shows me - yes, it is mine.