The warm water enveloped me like a lover’s embrace, bubbles popping softly against my skin as I lounged in the oversized tub. My parents were gone for the weekend, leaving the house all mine, and I’d wasted no time stripping down and sliding into a nice hot bath. At 18, with my blonde hair piled up messily and my big tits floating just above the foam, I was already aching with that familiar horniness that never quite left me.

My hand dipped below the surface, fingers circling my swollen clit, teasing my slick pussy lips until I was gasping, legs spreading wide. God, I loved this, being alone, naked, free to touch myself without a care.

But then the doorbell rang, sharp and insistent, shattering the moment.

“Coming!” I yelled, my voice breathy from the pleasure I’d been chasing.

I twisted the faucet off, water sloshing, and grabbed the thin white half-towel from beside the jumbo fluffy one. It was barely big enough to cover my ass, let alone wrap around properly, but who cared?

The pizza I’d ordered right before hopping in the bath was probably here.

I didn’t bother drying off; droplets trailed down my thighs as I padded to the door, the cool air hardening my nipples into tight peaks. Tugging the towel higher over my chest, I swung the door open, steam from the bath still clinging to my skin like a second layer.

There he stood, towering over me at least six feet, broad shoulders straining his black T-shirt, muscles rippling under the fabric. His blue jeans hugged his thighs and that bulge at his crotch like they were painted on, fuck, it was snug. Salt-and-pepper hair framed a stern face, cool green eyes narrowing as they raked over me. He had to be in his 50s, all rugged experience etched into his frown.

On one hand, the pizza box steamed faintly, the scent of cheese and pepperoni wafting in. “I don’t have all night, Miss,” he growled, voice deep and gravelly, like it could command obedience without trying.

“Here’s your money, Mister!” I chirped triumphantly, turning to snatch the bills from the side table.

But the damn towel, slippery from the bath, slithered right off, plopping to the floor in a wet heap.

I froze, completely naked, my big tits heaving with my quick breaths, my spankable ass on full display, pussy still throbbing from earlier.

His eyes widened for a split second, then locked on, devouring every inch. Heat flooded my cheeks, but deeper, that traitorous pulse between my legs intensified, making me clench.

I lunged for the towel, but my foot caught nothing. He’d stepped forward, his boot pinning it to the threshold. “You can pay me naked, little Miss,” he said, a smirk curling his lips, those green eyes gleaming with control.

Before I could react, he yanked out his phone, the flash popping rapid-fire, click, click, click, capturing my bare body from every angle. My tits, my ass, the trimmed blonde patch above my dripping pussy. Horror twisted in my gut, but so did this sick excitement, my nipples aching as if begging for attention. A guttural sob escaped my throat, my hands flying to smash against my chest, hiding what I could.

“You can’t do that,” I whispered, voice trembling, but my body betrayed me, thighs pressing together to ease the ache.

He just chuckled, low and menacing, pocketing the phone. “I can, and you’ll behave, or else this gets added to the drivers’ chat group. Every guy on shift will see what a slutty little thing you are.”

My heart pounded, humiliation burning hot, but god, the way he said it, the power in his stance, it made my pussy clench harder, wetness trickling down my inner thigh. Not that.

The thought of those photos spreading, strangers jerking off to me...

It terrified me, but the exposure, the vulnerability, lit a fire I couldn’t ignore.

I took a shaky step toward him, hands still shielding my breasts, but faltered. What was I gonna do? He was huge, strong, and I was just this slender, naked girl, heart racing with equal parts fear and filthy want.

“Don’t. Don’t do that!” I pleaded, holding up my hands in surrender.

His gaze dropped instantly, feasting on the jiggle of my tits as my arms wavered. It was mortifying, being ogled like this by a man twice my age, but the thrill shot straight to my core, making me whimper softly.

“I’ll behave!” I blurted, voice small, defeated.

He nodded, not a hint of surprise, like he knew I’d fold. “Of course you will.”

He held out his hand, palm up, expectant. I blinked through the haze of my arousal, grabbed the cash from the table, and shoved it into his grip, my fingers brushing his rough skin. No way was I asking for change, not with my naked body on display, his eyes still stripping me bare. He pocketed the money without a word, then let the pizza box drop carelessly to the floor, the thud echoing like a promise of what was coming.

“Now on your knees,” he commanded, his voice dropping lower, laced with that daddy-like authority that made my stomach flip.

My breath hitched as he unbuckled his belt, the metal clinking ominously, his zipper rasping down slow and deliberate. I sank to my knees right there in the doorway, the cool tile biting into my skin, my pussy throbbing with humiliating need. His jeans tented hugely, and as he tugged them open, that thick, veined cock sprang free, older, experienced, demanding.

My knees hit the tile with a jolt, the cold shock racing up my bare thighs, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his. Those cruel green eyes pinned me in place, boring into me like he owned every trembling inch of my naked body. I was already bare, the towel long forgotten under his boot, but the way he stared made me feel even more exposed, like the open doorway behind him was an audience waiting to watch my downfall.

His belt hung loose now, the leather dangling like a threat, and his zipper was halfway down, that massive bulge straining against the denim. At 18, I’d always had a thing for dominant older men, their experience, their control, but this was terrifying. My heart hammered, a mix of fear and that filthy heat pooling in my pussy, making me slick and desperate despite the tears stinging my eyes.

He stepped closer, his boots scuffing the threshold, the scent of his musky cologne mixing with the pizza’s greasy aroma on the floor. “Hands at your sides, little girl,” he ordered, voice rough as gravel, dripping with that daddy authority that twisted something deep in my gut. “Let me see what I’m working with.”

I hesitated, my arms still half-covering my big tits, nipples hard and aching from the chill and the humiliation. But his eyes narrowed, promising those photos would spread if I disobeyed, so I dropped them, letting my breasts bounce free, heavy and full, the blonde curls between my legs on full display: God, the exposure burned.

Anyone walking by could see me like this, on my knees for a stranger more than twice my age.

That’s when he pulled out his phone again, the screen lighting up his stern face.

Click. Click.

Flash after flash, capturing me from above, my flushed cheeks, my heaving chest, the way my thighs quivered apart just enough to show my wet pussy lips glistening.

“Smile for the camera, slut,” he sneered, angling for a shot straight down my body, zooming in on my tits and the trimmed patch above my clit.

Humiliation crashed over me like a wave, my face burning as I forced a shaky smile, but fuck, it ignited something twisted inside. The idea of those pictures out there, strangers seeing me exposed and eager, made my core clench, a fresh gush of arousal dripping down my inner thigh.

I was his now, photographed and trapped, and the vulnerability only made me hornier, my body betraying me with every snap.

He tucked the phone away, satisfaction curling his smirk, and finally shoved his jeans down his thick thighs, kicking them aside. His cock sprang out, heavy and thick, veined and uncut, easily eight inches of mature meat bobbing right in front of my face. The musky scent hit me, sweat and man, older and potent, making my mouth water even as shame flooded my chest. Pre-cum beaded at the tip, and I stared, transfixed, my pussy throbbing with need.

“You know what to do,” he growled, his rough hand shooting out to tangle in my wet blonde hair, yanking my head back so I looked up at him. The pull stung, roots tingling, but it sent a jolt straight to my clit. “Open that pretty mouth and suck my cock like the needy little whore you are.”

Tears spilled over then, hot tracks down my cheeks, but I parted my lips, tongue darting out to taste the salty bead on his tip. The flavor exploded, bitter, masculine, forbidden, and I moaned around it, the sound vibrating through him. His grip tightened, fingers digging into my scalp, guiding me forward as I licked along the underside, tracing every ridge and vein with my flat tongue.

God, he was so big, stretching my jaw as I wrapped my lips around the head, sucking greedily. The humiliation fueled it all, the age gap glaring in his salt-and-pepper pubes brushing my nose, the dominance in how he held me like a toy, the exhibitionism of it all with the door still cracked open. I was sucking off a delivery guy in my own doorway, photos of my degradation already taken, and it made me so fucking wet I could feel it pooling beneath me on the tile.

I bobbed deeper, taking more of him, my big tits swaying with the motion, nipples grazing his thighs. Saliva dripped from my chin, mixing with his pre-cum as I hollowed my cheeks, sucking harder, tongue swirling around the shaft.

“That’s it, deeper,” he commanded, his voice a low rumble, hips bucking to force another inch past my lips. “I know this is not the first cock you’ve ever sucked, whore.”

I gagged, throat convulsing, but pushed on, eager now, the emotional storm inside me, shame, fear, raw desire, turning into this fiery need to please him. My free hand slipped between my legs, fingers circling my clit, but he noticed, yanking my hair harder.

“No touching that tight pussy. This is about you serving me.”

The denial only heightened it, my body aching, untouched except for the cock invading my mouth. He growled deep in his chest, approval vibrating through his body as I deep-throated him, nose burying in his coarse hair, the scent overwhelming.

“Good girl, taking it all like a pro. Bet all the old men around here use you like this.”

His words hit like punches, stirring my vulnerability, making me whimper around his thickness. He thrust harder, grip unyielding, pushing me into complete submission, tears streaming, throat raw, but my pussy clenched with every degrading plunge. The world narrowed to his cock, his control, the open door whispering threats of more eyes on us.

What if he didn’t stop here?

What if he bent me over right there, fucked me raw for the neighborhood to hear?

The thought terrified and thrilled me, building that storm higher, leaving me on the edge, desperate for whatever came next.

His thrusts into my mouth grew erratic, hips snapping forward with brutal rhythm, that thick cock choking me until stars burst behind my eyelids. Saliva bubbled at the corners of my lips, dripping onto my chin and my heaving tits, the mess slick and degrading. I was a wreck, throat burning, tears carving paths through my smeared mascara, but the ache in my pussy screamed louder, begging for him to fill it.

At 18, here I am again reduced to a trembling slut for a man old enough to be my dad, his salt-and-pepper groin grinding against my face like he was marking me. Suddenly, he yanked my hair back, pulling his cock free with a wet pop that echoed in the hallway. Strings of spit connected us, and I gasped for air, coughing, my lips swollen and numb. His green eyes blazed down at me, wild with lust and that cruel dominance that made my stomach twist.