Kiladre Gone Wild - 'Babyfaced slut dicked down after a party'
In which JJ fancies himself an amateur pornographer.
Some things are certain during Kildare Boat Week: Someone will exceed weight capacity and capsize, tourons will trash the water uncaring of those who make their living off it, and JJ Maybank will have the summers latest installment of what he calls "Kildare Gone Wild."
He picks indiscriminately. Kooks, Pogues, women, men (he always makes bank off some wannabe real estate mogul getting his shitter torn in two). At the end of the day its nothing personal, purely business—it was just enough money off the burned DVDs for groceries and ritalin.
It got to the point JJ's Boat Week escapades are well known. Girls tell their out of town cousins, and friends of a friend. Exaggerated pogue accents ring out, If a blonde boy mid height crooked teeth says his names JJ asks u 'Wan' see my boat?' Say no. Doesn't bother him, he knows a couple shots and a few beers are enough to get even the most tightly sewn snatch to unwind. Sure they regret it in the morning, and by the end of the week every deck hand has seen them spread open.
Sometimes though…sometimes it's easy.
The moment JJ spots you on the dock he changes gears, slipping out of the arms of some freckle faced ginger who's probably been drunk since 9am. He could have had you both, he pockets her Tiffany bracelet for the trouble.
He plotted out something different: a rich girl finds her way into some scum eaters boat with the promise of some coke, but this he can work with. A nice hometown hottie for people to settle down with and fantasize about when you stop by the corner store. Soft curves, derisive smirk, and big brown eyes. Your tapes always sell well.
Besides, you know how it goes and JJ's not easy to resist—something about him just glows. From his crown to the dirt. Even when he's sunburned and flushed. Lips chapped, knuckles gnarled, a crooked shark-like grin softened only by round dimpled cheeks. He's a ball of charm that one, something on the right side of rough, just enough to make your heart pound.
Still, you put up a fake fight.
"I got work in the mornin"
"What sellin t-shirts? If you hog all the youth mediums what'r the babies gon wear?
You both notice how your belly trembles when the brushes his fingers against the soft pudge of you, but that's part of it all. The fun of the hunt is in the fear and trepidation of it all.
"We all got our somethin JJ. I know you got yours, ain't you s'pose to be drugging some trustfunder and her daddy right now?"
So he backs up a bit, lingers to watch you pocket 20s and 50s as you sell your overpriced t-shirts to rich tourists who don't know any better. It gives him time to plan—maybe he'll keep your top on and push your bikini top to the side to frame your tits. A low angle shot to capture the way your shorts hug your ass.
JJ has a real eye for beauty.
When the sun finally dips and the fervor escalates he knows he got you—sundrunk and tipsy. The crown of your head has long since curled in the humidity, a quick dip in the water has left your skin all sea sticky. All your fight was gone, your face buzzed with the drink, and JJ knows if he stuck a hand down your shorts you'd already be wet.
"Just a quick little powwow in the cabin, I got somethin' you want."
You blink slow, watching as he seems to materialize two joints in the palm of his hand.
First half of the payment.
"Fine, fine a'ight let's go."
There's no light in the cabin, JJ killed it a while ago. The only thing illuminating the cramped room is the lights from the boats around you, the never ending thump of music seems to be rocking you more than the waves.
"You ever gonna get a new camera JJ?" You inhale, hold it til it burns, then you exhale. The smoke obscures him even more. It occurs to you sometimes how big JJ really is. Height is nothing compared to presence. Not when you're as strong as he is—stocky and solid more than he has any right to be. Now he no longer tries to seem approachable, the lanky, laid back boy has become a man. A man with biceps twice the size of your head, and he likes to show it to the point you wonder if he has any shirts with sleeves left. Which brings you—
"JJ you're dressed like a slut."
He barks out a laugh because its true, if anything your shirt covers more of your midriff than his and his shorts sag enough everyone knows what color boxers he were wearing.
"Gotta look the part what can I say. And to your earlier question, best not to fuck with the classics." It's a dinky little thing, some camcorder from 2009 that he's held onto. "Pass that over here, it's time to get to work."
The angle is perfect, just as he imagined. He lingers over curves of deep brown skin, your top tucked under your chin with your bikini pulled away to show off your tits. Soft heavy tits capped with hard nipples, your thick thighs frame your cunt so perfectly he's glad he has this moment committed to tape.
"Dear God, there's a reason you're my favorite y'know that?"
There can't be any real truth to that, just JJ talking shit like he normally does so you ignore it, bending over with your legs spread apart until you hear a husky fuck from behind you, "You just gonna watch or are we gonna fuck dude?"
Your face is a mirror of his, open and hungry, blinking owlishly at him as your eyes drag down his body.
He likes it, being seen, being desired. JJ realizes it then that he's as much a piece of meat that you are.
A mutual hunt of sorts. He forgets you have claws.
It makes him wonder if you knew he was looking for you, or if you made him think he was. All that earlier was you playing with him, and that makes his dick jump. You like that too, because JJ can see all your teeth as you zero in on the damp spot.
The flash of the camera makes you wince slightly, just enough for him to drop his shorts and knock his hips against you until you fall face first onto the bed, "Down, all the way, there you go."
When he spreads you open, you glisten in the low light. Already hot with anticipation you're moaning before he touches you. And the sound amplifies when he slips two fingers in the hot clutch of your cunt.
"Shit, you're real hungry for it huh?"
The lack of response says enough when you're already squelching around his fingers. When it comes to you, this part can't be skipped because your cunt is fat and sensitive and if he presses his fingers just right—
You'll spill down his wrist and onto the bed. A real visual feast.
JJ pulls out with a wet suck, using his sticky hand to coat himself in your cum. Not that he needs it really, he's just as wet as you are, "Goddamn I been waitin all day for this." He pushes until he's fully seated and sets the camera down on the stand beside you.
He hauls you back with ease, fingers digging into your dimpled hips with ease until there's nowhere else for you to go. Not like you would have tried anyways, JJ's too strong, one experimental thrust was enough to push you up the mattress, barely having enough time to slap a hand against the wall before he started on you.
The view was perfect, even with your hair in your face the camera could pick up on your blissed out expression. Each smack of his hips made you whine louder, JJ knew how to get you were he wanted you—overstimulated and shaking as he angled himself until he was grinding against the spout that had you creaming around him.
Each sound fucked out of you was obscene, but still it wasn't enough. He was greedy, he wanted everyone to see who he had in this bed moaning like a whore so he hauled you up—one hand fisted in the back of your hair and the other clasped around your neck and jaw, effectively man handling you until you were angled towards the camera, "Look at em, let em see what a fuckin slut y'are. Say it."
You bounce harder in his lap, drooling over his calloused fingers as you struggle to speak around where they're shoved in your mouth, "I'm a slut!"
His fingers go further, forcing a dry heave out your throat that makes you clench around him, "Couldn't hear you babydoll, say it again."
"Fuck yo—fuck I'm a slut! Imaslutimaslut—" JJ doesn't play fair, it's not his m.o. so hand going from your hair to your clit was just to be a dick, even at his own expense. You came fast and hard around him with your body jerking and your cunt choking him off at the base so tight he was cumming in an instant, he didn't even try to peel himself off of you until he was finished.
"You got some dangerous pussy you know that?"
Rolling your eyes you shove him until he's flat on his back, dick still hard like a missile, "Not dangerous enough clearly, look at you if it wasn't so wet you'd think I never touched you."
JJ reaches past you for the camera, panning it from your face to your swollen pussy, spreading you open all flushed and still twitching, "Fix it then."
This time he makes sure to keep the camera trained on you, watching how a full body shiver travels up your spine once your fully seated.
The rocking of the boat aids your movements as you roll your hips against his.
Now this is a fuckin shot.
With your tits pressed together and the gentle bounce of your tummy he almost let himself get lost in it.
He dug his fingers into your waist, almost slipping from the thin layer of sweat coating you both, and he got to work.
"S-Shit, you're an asshole, fuck I'm gonna cum again." It was everything you could to steel yourself against him as he fucked up into you. Each thrust filling the room with the sticky-sweet sound of your cunt. The second you barrelled over with his name edging on a high pitched whine, he pointed the lens at your face—brows knitted and lips swollen in pleasure. It was enough to send him with you with a hoarse moan as you collapsed against him.
And since JJ really liked you. He kissed you first.
The both of you came out, visibly wrecked and clothes askew. He kissed you again, uncaring of how people could piece together the action with the bite marks blooming on his torse. Courtesy of a scene for his…personal collection.
By morning you knew to expect $100 and a 3.5, and you got that. Along with several dms— both jealous and lustful, exclamations of 'slut' and 'whore' under each Instagram post. But worst of all were Facebook messages from aunts and uncles and most stomach churningly, your dad.
Wanna explain why the fuck I was sent a video of you and JJ Maybank?
There it was, clear as day—flat on your back, as you squirt on his dick and the phone screen with an atrocious watermark that read 'Pogue Slut stuffed with dick during boat week.'
