Page 34 of CurVy Forever

Fucker hasn’t learned his lesson yet.

Veronica’s tits are sitting on the bar top, full double-Ds, nearly spilling from her low-cut white camisole. Pair those bad boys with her hand frequenting his shaft through his jeans, and he’d be aching through some serious blue balls.

I paid Veronica to be here.

This is too easy, but Oliver is as dumb as shit. I only wish I could remove his teeth, pluck one out at a time; the only thing stopping me is her.

I need to get back to Vallie.

Weeks ago, when I first decided to torment my Curvy Thirteen, I never thought for one moment I would fall. I never thought I’d care like this. I do. Too much.

I set my beer down on the Jack Daniels bar runner and continue to watch their courting.

Oliver stands on wobbly legs, then grips the bar with a laugh. He’s pissed. And horny. Perfect.

Veronica makes fuck-me eyes at him, and the smile that consumes his face plays right into our game.

She takes his hand, leading him around the high tables and stools towards the back. She is thick like Vallie, bouncing to the music, peering back at him in invitation.

Not as pretty as my pup.

No one is…

She needs to be like Vallie. A reminder. A tease. Oliver needs to be controlled in this way. His own self-hate is what makes him lash out at girls. Mock their appearance. It’s important that he sees himself as above her.

Pulling my hoodie down to cover my brow, I follow them into the back alleyway.

I stoke up a cigarette and watch him hump her beside a rusty drainpipe. Opposite them is a window, and above them the moon, creating enough light to see.

Inhaling the scorching smoke, I can’t help but feel this is my own personal hell. Watching a girl like Vallie get dry-fucked against a brick wall by this arsehole, I could easily kill him.

I want to.

I won’t.

He’s not even inside her, but his shoulders are bunched in crazy tight—dude is in all kinds of distress. He needs to get off. I know how he feels right now: intense pressure building at his groin, aching through his muscles, a heartbeat that thunders for a release.

It’s painful.

Something men can’t switch off. It’s in every inch of our being—he is right where I need him. Desperate. I retrieve my phone and start to record.

Soon, he is spinning her to face the wall, and she gasps a little. Could have been excitement. Wasn’t, though.

Kissing her neck, he uses his heavy body to hold her to the brick as he pulls his cock out. The fuck. He’s gonna explode if he doesn’t get that purple thing inside her. I wonder how long it’s been. A long time—better have been a long time. I want to cut it off, knowing it’s been inside my girl.

“I don’t think we should,” she protests.

“You have to be kidding me?” He sneers. “After all that? You fucking bitches are all the same. You should be so lucky to get all over my cock. It’s okay. I’ll pull out.”

“N—” she starts, but Oliver covers her mouth on the word. Can’t hear the word no. She never said it. Right, mate? So predictable. He fights with her underwear and pushes into her. She’ll be wet. It’ll be easy to get inside her.

I suck the cigarette, draw the smoke into my lungs, and hold it there as I record the designed rape scene.

Veronica thrashes against the wall, sobbing into his hand, but her pussy would be clinging to him like a fucking mad, lock-jaw dog. She loves rape play. I’d know.

I watch him pull out.

And jerks his cock off on her thigh.