“I’m thankful for having a good job, being healthy, and great friends,” you tell me. I retort with “And?” “And what?” you ask. “And what else are you thankful for?”
“Hmm, I guess that’s about it. What else can anyone realistically expect to be grateful for?”

This did not sit well with me. We were on the phone together when I asked you what you’re most thankful for this Thanksgiving season. Only moments before, you had won a playful bet with me on the football game. If I had won, you would’ve treated me to a little shopping spree. However, since you won, I owe you an amazing orgasm. The truth is you’re going to take me shopping anyway, and I’m going to make you cum hard too. By putting a wager on it, we got to taunt and tease each other throughout the entire game. I actually enjoyed losing the bet. I loved the idea of having to come over to your house in a trench coat, stiletto heeled knee-high boots, my favorite black thong, and nothing else. I’m actually a bit hurt that you didn’t put me on the list of what you’re most thankful for. Actually, I shouldn’t just be on the list, the list should start and end with me. For this error in judgment, I’m going to punish you. You will feel it. You’re going to feel it real good.

“So, nothing more I guess,” I respond. Suddenly you realize your terrible mistake.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m thankful for you, you more than anything in the world.” Unfortunately, it’s a bit too late. I’m hurt and disappointed, but I don’t let you know how much. I lie and assure you all is well, that I’ll be by tomorrow to make you cum.

I arrive at your house and park across the street from your house, just watching and waiting impatiently. About 45 minutes after I see that it has gone dark inside, I walk up to your porch. Once the clock strikes midnight, I begin to ring your doorbell incessantly. I don’t care that you’re already asleep. In fact, I’m glad that I’m waking you from a peaceful slumber! You come to the door disheveled and it’s clear that you’re groggy.

“Ashlee, what are you doing here?” “It’s officially tomorrow. When you won the bet, I told you that I’d come over tomorrow. Well, here I am!” I push right past you to get into the house. The way I shove you aside and against the door jamb tells you that I’m not happy. “What’s wrong Ashlee?” “Take off your pants,” I order. You turn around to walk towards the bedroom, but I stop you. “No, not in your warm, comfortable bedroom, unthankful one, in here, you fucking ingrate! Remove your cock from those horrid flannel pajamas, right here in the hallway, and lay down on the floor!” You do as you’re told despite the discomfort of the hardwood beneath your back. I wrap my not-so-gentle hands around your soft cock. Within seconds, your flaccid shaft is hard as a rock. I strengthen my grip, spit on the tip, and start pumping you vehemently. You’re taken completely aback, but not about to complain. It takes less than 90 seconds for a stream of cum to erupt from your engorged cock, but the joke is on you as I aim the head towards your face and milk you. To your chest, chin, and cheek it flies, then I slap your hand away as you try to wipe it off.

“Oh, no you don’t,” I exclaim! “Now roll over!” I can see the fear in your face. “See how it feels to have your hard cock pressed against the cold, wood floor!” You don’t know what you did to enrage me so much, but it’s clear; I’m not to be fucked with. Obviously, I do the fucking around here! Without uttering a syllable, you roll over onto your stomach. You want to complain, but you know better. I proceed to sit on your back facing your legs, putting all my weight on your body so that you can’t get up. From my handbag, I pull out a bottle of KY and spread the cheeks of your ass. I watch the top of the bottle as a few drops of lube drip onto your virgin asshole. You squirm and pucker as you feel the cold gel hitting your tight ass.

“You won the bet; I’ve paid up and made you cum, now I’m going to fuck you until you learn to appreciate me more!” “Wha…wha…what,” you stutter. “Baby, you can’t be serious, what are you doing?” I ignore your question and pull out a large dildo from my bag. Without any warning or lube on the large piece of latex, I jam it into your ass. “Holy shit! Stop! Please,” you beg and plead. All I can do is smile and laugh.

“Fuck you,” I respond, and fuck you is exactly what I do. “Your pussy needs a pounding, Mister I’m-not-thankful-for-you. Or would you prefer I call you Miss?” With as much fervor as I jerked your cock with, I take your ass, and shove in the dildo until it disappears. You scream, but it only makes me excited and wet. I grind my pussy onto your back, massaging my erect clit on you as I make you my bitch! You can feel the wetness oozing from my thong against your skin. The scent of my pussy wafting in the air helps you resign yourself to my sodomising you for my pleasure.

After a few minutes of this, I can’t take it anymore and pull my thong to the side. The silky, wet lips of my pussy glide over your skin with the slick, white cream I’ve left on the small of your back. I’m writhing with pleasure as the latex cock in my hands penetrates your ass repeatedly, the stiletto heels of my boots dig into your ribs, and I scream even louder than you when I squirt my juices onto you. I practically collapse when I’ve had my fill, the muscles in my hands and arms are numb, exhausted from raping you and grinding myself to orgasm. With my face resting against your leg, I hear you whisper, “Happy Thanksgiving, Ashlee.” I breathlessly utter the words “Happy Thanksgiving to you, babe. It’s about time you realize what to be thankful for.”

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