The answer is yes.
I absolutely want Sir’s child.
I am desperate to carry his baby.
I can’t wait for him to fill me again so I can get pregnant for him.
I dwell on that when Sir leaves for work the next day and I get busily to my own work, finishing my chores early and working on my college applications.
That’s another thing I do now. I work on my college applications. I honestly wasn’t even sure if I was going to go to college when I graduated, but Sir insists that I pursue an education. So, I work on a cover letter and the various forms I need to fill out to apply to several different schools.
I don’t manage to get much done on that today, but it’s not because I am lazy or bratty. It’s because all I can think about is how Sir intends to get me pregnant.
I think about that when he comes home that evening and fills me again. I think about that the next morning and the morning after that and the morning after that and when my period comes two weeks later, I am surprised to find I am crushed by the news.
CHAPTER THREE
I realize blasting right through everything that happens first in my relationship with Sir really doesn’t tell the whole picture. I also realize anyone might think my parents are kind of assholish for the way they make me move out on my own at eighteen as though they just toss me to the wolves. There is a great more involved in that decision than how I describe it.
Alcohol.
Drugs.
Cutting classes.
Disturbing the peace.
Trespassing.
Property damage.
Two wrecked cars.
I mean, I make it seem like I’m just a normal eighteen-year-old whose mom and dad threw here in an apartment and then use paying the rent as some kind of leverage to get me to work at the law firm. My internship is with Sir because Sir is my family’s lawyer and my parents assume, correctly, he will straighten me out and if any girl ever needed straightening out, I’m that girl.
Sure, Mom and Dad have no idea how Sir goes about straightening me out. Nonetheless, I’m a fucking wild child. I cause trouble constantly and it’s a wonder I’m not in jail already. I don’t know why I’m so fucking crazy. Sometimes I tell myself it’s the education system’s fault. After all, every class I ever take is easy as fuck and so I’m bored as fuck and so I act up like crazy.
But that’s all bullshit.
I mean, I can give you a hundred reasons for my behavior but the only honest thing I can say about behaving the way I do must put the blame where it belongs. I’m the reason my behavior is what it is. I’m the reason. Nobody else makes me what I am. Ultimately, I think being smart in elementary school and junior high makes me feel entitled.
I get to high school and it’s hard to listen to teachers when I feel like I’m smarter than they are. It’s hard to submit myself to their authority when I find myself completely disdainful of them. Once I think of them with disdain, it’s natural to think of all authority figures disdainfully. The point is, maybe someone somewhere along the line can prevent a girl like me from turning into a brat but I’m still responsible for my behavior. I mean, other smart girls get bored in school. Not everyone like me makes their parents’ lives a fucking nightmare.
I just want that clear.
Because I don’t want anyone to believe anyone other than me is responsible for me being in this situation.
At present, this situation is me on top of sir with my hands behind my back. I am required to hold my hands together tightly as I bounce on top of him. It’s sexy as hell but it’s also very difficult because (naturally) my ass cheeks hurt like hell and without being able to hold onto Sir’s shoulders, it isn’t an easy thing to keep the position someone situated so my ass cheeks don’t scream bloody murder at me.
Ten weeks.
Ten weeks are passed but, thankfully, my internship will become regular employment when it ends on September 1st.
Oh my God, his cock feels so good! At this moment, Sir makes me do all the work. He does this even though he very much limits the activity I can perform. I mean, not only are my hands behind my back like this but my legs don’t hang down to the floor. I straddle Sir but my knees are bent so my feet rest over his knees. I mean, if this situation is exercise instead of sex, the core workout I get is fucking brutal!
I love it.
I don’t know why I love this.