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#1a Dean picks Sam up from catholic school

***

Dean waits for Sammy outside the school.

He grins at her classmates who go by, some of them giggling and blushing, but most of them eyeing him up shamelessly. In his experience, attendance at an all-girl school, particularly a catholic school, doesn’t breed shy, retiring girls, despite what you might think, and the teachers and parents obviously hope.

He idly watches them go, the hems of their plaid skirts flirting up above white knee-high socks and wonders why fetishists were allowed to design school uniforms. Although that’s probably a chicken-and-egg scenario, he thinks, but he stops worrying about it when Sammy comes down the steps.

At fifteen she’s getting taller everyday, probably going to end up pushing 6 foot, even, model height, and maybe model skinny, too, the way she’s dropping baby fat like a bad habit.

Not if Dean has anything to say about it, though, and he keeps trying to feed her up; getting extra pepperoni on the pizza, and buying the Reese’s cups she can’t resist. He figures he’s fighting a loosing battle on that one, but she’s currently still just a little bit soft and sweet under her prim little uniform.

She glares at Dean as she gets into the car, moving very carefully, waving at her friends, throwing her book bag into the backseat and settling awkwardly on the seat.

“Have a good day?” he asks sweetly.

“Bite me,” she says back, shortly.

“Oh, I will,” he says. He means to say it flippantly to annoy her, but it comes out a little hoarse, like a dark promise and she glances over at him, her face softening a little.

“Hurry up and get us home,” she says, uncrossing and recrossing her legs, flashes of white thigh visible beneath her heavy skirt.

Dean does.

***

Dad’s been gone for a week and is going to be gone at least one more, so he’s on her as soon as they close the door to the apartment they’re renting.

He pushes her up against the wall and kisses her, tasting mint and coke.

He doesn’t kiss her for long, though, he’s too eager, and he’s on his knees inside a minute, pushing her skirt up.

She’s so wet, he can see it on her smooth, white thighs. He’s hard already, too. Been hard on-and-off all day, thinking about her at school, without any underwear on under her skirt.

Been thinking about her, thinking about him; thinking how she’d be reminded of him every time the rough material of the skirt brushed against her bare ass. Sitting so carefully all day long, conscious of her nakedness, of her sexiness, that she could be exposed any minute, with a thoughtless movement, a shift in her seat, a heavy gust of wind.

He kisses the damp patch of dark hair, before pushing her thighs apart, opening up her pussy, looking at her all dark pink, swollen and wet.

“Fuck,” he groans. “So fucking hot.”

“I’ve been hot all day, asshole,” she says, but there’s no bite to her words, her voice rough and strained. “Fucking stupid idea.”

He shakes his head mutely, and leans in, pressing his lips against her.

She shudders, and grips his shoulders, spreading her legs unconsciously further apart. He holds her up with his hands on her bare ass, his fingers pushing in between her legs.

“Been thinking about this all day,” she says. “Thinking about you lifting up my skirts and fucking me in the halls, in the toilets, in the fucking library. Fuck,” she says as he rubs his tongue up against her clit, “bending me over Mr Hopkins desk, pushing up my skirts and fucking me right there in front of the whole math class.”

He groans against her, and pushes his fingers in where she’s hot and wet. He’s going straight for goal, working his tongue hard over her clit just the way she likes, fucking her pussy with his fingers.

She comes, swearing low and husky, grinding up against his face, shaking and he holds her ass in his hands, supporting her.

He doesn’t give her long for the afterglow, though, freeing his dick - which had been strangling itself in his jeans - with relief as he stands up. He turns her round to face the wall, hands against it and pulls her hips back towards him, she goes compliantly – always a lot more pliable during sex than at any other time in their lives. He pushes up her skirts and her smooth, pale ass is exposed.

He grips her hips, there’ll probably be bruises later, but he doesn’t care right now, too eager to be inside her.

He slides into her pussy, feeling her wet and hot around him. She moans, and he brushes his lips, still wet from her, against her neck, making her shiver.

“Sammy, Sammy,” he whispers and she strains back to kiss him, soft and eager and very his like this, like he can hold her here forever.

He fucks her as slowly as he can, feeling her clench and gasp around him. He’s not going to last long, and so he reaches in front of her, rubbing against her clit with his fingers, making her gasp and come, tight and sweet around his dick as he comes buried in her.

Afterwards, they go and sit on the couch and watch a movie, even though she complains she should really study some math, because she really didn’t concentrate in class today. He pulls her against him, into his lap, flicking up her skirts, and slides his fingers inside her, feeling her slickness and his come deep inside, and makes her shudder against his fingers again and again.

***


#1b Summary: She looks so good across his lap, thighs pressed modestly together.

***

Sammy’s laying over his lap, with her uniform skirt up around her waist. Her legs have gotten incredibly long, and the white knee-high socks somehow make them look longer. Her thighs are white and smooth, and her ass fills out the white cotton of her panties beautifully.

He still pulls them down her thighs, though, baring her smooth, round ass.

She looks so good across his lap, thighs pressed modestly together, like that can hide her from him, like he’s not going to spread her wide.

Honestly, he’s no good at role playing with her, despite how frequently he has to pretend to be someone else while hunting.

He’s been awesome at dirty talk with girls in the past, rocking their freakin’ world, thank you very much, but he just can’t do it with her.

He should pretend to be her teacher punishing her for smoking, or tardiness, or wearing her skirts too short, or whatever. He should say she’s a bad girl, who deserves it, a slut who’ll get what she deserves – she’s tried to get him to say it before – but he can’t, his tongue, usually pretty smooth, ties on the words.

He can’t be anything but awestruck that Sammy’ll let him do this, that she wants him to, needs him too, and the words always sound wooden and false, so he says nothing as he cracks the paddle down hard on her naked ass.

She gasps and bucks. It isn’t a love tap – she’ll be feeling it tomorrow, smiling secretly to herself as she shifts on her sore bottom on the seat next to him in the morning when they go for breakfast.

The paddle makes a startling red mark on her pale skin, but he doesn’t stop, raises it again and spanks her hard.

She’s wriggling already – her bottom turning red and hot under the paddle – and she rubs against his dick, which is already achingly hard. He can’t watch her squirm and writhe, watch her beautiful, hot ass dance under his paddle, knowing he’s doing that to her, without getting crazily hard.

He doesn’t tell her how many she’s going to get beforehand. He doesn’t know. He’ll just wait, spanking her bottom hard and relentless, listening to her gasp and cry, until she relaxes, cried out and finished.

He moves the paddle down her thighs and she yelps and he peppers that tender flesh, knowing she’ll enjoy really feeling it tomorrow.

When he’s finished her ass is bright red and hot to the touch. He does touch it; running his hands over the soft, hot skin - listening to her moan.

He slides her off his lap and sets her down on the bed, on her back, her skirt still up at her waist. Her face is flushed and wet, her eyes dark and gazing up at Dean. This is the only time she looks at him like this, like he’s the center of her world, and his heart pounds and his mouth is dry, like it always is.

“Spread your legs,” he tells her and she does, holding her thighs apart on the bed and opening up her pussy, red, wet and swollen.

He rubs his thumbs over her clit and she bucks up into it.

“Nuh huh,” he says. “This isn’t for you.”

It’s a lie, a total lie, it’s all for her, but she groans and nods, giving everything up into his power and it’s a heady feeling. He’s drunk with it.

“Don’t close your legs,” he says and he brings the thin paddle down onto her pussy.

She squeals, and bucks into the air, but keeps her legs apart. He spanks her again and she writhes. He’s not spanking her pussy anywhere near as hard as he spanked her ass, but she’s so sensitive, she probably doesn’t know that right now.

He does it for her, but he loves it too, loves the feeling that the ass and pussy he’s spanking are genuinely his to do with as he wants.

He spanks her pussy a few more times, getting the paddle wet, and taking her squeals and groans, before he tells her to get up on her hands and knees.

She does and he pushes her skirts completely out of the way, exposing her hot, red ass.

“Spread your legs,” he says. “Wider.” So she’s fully exposed.

He frees his cock, God, finally, and pushes down his jeans.

He rubs his dick between her legs, up against her wet, spanked pussy and she gasps and grinds against him, but he pulls away.

“Just getting it wet,” he reminds her. “Your pussy just gets spanked, not fucked today. You don’t get to come.”

He parts her red cheeks and exposes the tight, pink pucker of her ass.

He pushes his cock in, wet from her, slowly, because she hasn’t been stretched and he groans through clenched teeth as he slowly seats himself into her ass. He waits there, resting his head against her neck as she gets used to him in her before pulling out and starting fucking her properly, hard and ruthless, just as she likes.

It takes an embarrassingly short amount of time before he’s coming.

He pulls out and lets her collapse onto the bed, legs spread wide. It’s an amazing sight to him – her swollen, fucked asshole slick between her red, spanked cheeks and her pussy spread and wet, aching still. She mumbles something into the pillow, and he runs a hand over her hot bottom – ridden hard and put away wet.

He doesn’t bother to get her out of her uniform. She’ll sleep well tonight anyway.

Tomorrow morning he’ll soothe her aching pussy with his mouth, before taking her out for pancakes, and she’ll be sweet and loving, pressing up against him in the booth as she sits on her sore and well-fucked ass, feeling him all day.


#1c Summary: She probably fucks him nearly as often as he fucks her

She probably fucks him nearly as often as he fucks her.

Hand jobs are common. Sam doesn’t like giving oral, but she loves to receive it, rubbing her fingers all over his swollen, red mouth when he’s wet from her, and most often she’ll wrap a hand with long, slim fingers around his dick in reward, sometimes pushing the fingers from her other hand into his mouth at the same time, alternating between her tongue and her fingers in his mouth.

Sammy’s got a thing about doing it outdoors, in semi-public places - particularly in or on the Impala. Dean loves the winter months, when it’s dark when he picks her up from school, particularly if she’s stayed late for extra curriculars, and she gets him to pull over on the way home and fuck her over the hood of the Impala, with her school skirt around her waist and her panties around her ankles.

If they’ve got time, though, and they’re alone with no Dad and no hunt and maybe a lazy weekend coming up, she likes to put him on his knees.

When Sammy’s in the mood to receive anal, she likes it rough and fast, but she’s always torturously slow when giving.

Dean will often have eaten her out beforehand, because the large, purple strap on is stimulating for her, but not enough to get her to come, and Dean’s rarely in a fit state to do it after.

She’s usually naked when they do it this way, which Dean loves, because Sam’s a little self-conscious about her body and often hides it, fucking in her uniform or pyjamas. Her belly’s still a little rounded, and so’s her ass, although she’s getting thinner everyday, and her breasts are small.

Dean can’t find the words to tell her how perfect she is – how her small breasts with their tight, pink nipples fit perfectly in his hands, how he loves to push his face into the soft flesh of her belly – and when he’s tried, she’s put it down to elder brother teasing and punched him in the arm.

The large, fake cock should maybe look ridiculous jutting out from between her soft, feminine thighs, but it really doesn’t.

He’s on his hands and knees on the bed – legs spread far apart, and she’s settled between his legs, fingering him open. She uses huge amounts of lube, and fingers him for what seems like hours. As usual, she’s already come and in no hurry, pressing long, curious fingers inside, pushing up hard against his prostate, fucking leisurely in and out.

He’s sweating, sweat pooling on his back, making his hair damp.

She presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss against his shoulder blades, muffled words about how hot he is, how tight, whispered like benedictions against his flushed skin.

He feels hot, yes, but he doesn’t feel tight, he feels open, so open to her, ready for anything. She fisted him once, and while it’d felt like he’d never walk again after, at the time even that hadn’t felt like really enough of her inside him.

The lubed fingers of one hand are in his ass and the other hand is wrapped slickly around his balls, just rubbing gently.

He drops his face to the bed and groans into it.

There’s no point trying to hurry Sam, he knows that, Sam’ll do it in her own time or not at all. He should probably feel grateful that at least her other hand is on his balls – one time she’d waited for what seemed like hours, trailing her fingers in obscure yet bizarrely soothing patterns on the hot, damp skin of his back, trailing her free hand up and down his spine as she’d finger-fucked him with the other.

She withdraws her hand finally and settles into position behind him. She pulls his cheeks apart, and he feels the cold air on the slick, stretched entrance to his body. He clenches automatically and that makes her laugh slightly, rubbing her thumb over him.

“So eager,” she says, and he wants to say something about how it’s not unreasonable to be eager after two million years or so of foreplay, but she’s nudging the lubed tip of the fake cock up against him and sliding in.

His whole body shudders at the push and glide. There’s no burn with all the lube and very little resistance, but it’s still shocking to have something force its way implacably inside you.

Dean pants into the pillow, adjusting to the intrusion and she starts rocking, rubbing up perfectly inside him. He’s never done this with a guy, but he imagines it’s maybe better with a girl, not driven by the need of their own dick, able to focus better, and Sam does – each thrust just right. His dick throbs between his thighs and one of Sammy’s hands closes tightly around it. He jerks into her fist, startled at how quickly she’s there to jerk him off, she usually waits longer, but it only takes a few pulls on his dick, perfectly in time with her smooth thrusts, to get him clenching and spilling over her hand.

He lets his shoulders drop down to the bed, but Sam’s hands and fake cock keep his ass up high.

She keeps fucking him, rhythmically, his ass clenching, sensitive, around the unforgiving cock.

She’ll fuck him for as long as she wants to, as long as it pleases her to watch him shudder on her dick, and he closes his eyes and just feels it.

***

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