"He gave her a flower. She gave him her flower. Fair trade. Fat, stinking, migrant handyman handed her a half-dead daisy. She took it, all innocent, model face, plump lips, tits straining that yellow floral sundress. He didn't wait. Just spun her around, hiked that dress, and forced his way into the tightest white fourteen-year-old pussy in the suburbs. One push — a squeal, a tear, a gush of cherry blood down those skinny tan legs. She dropped the daisy. He kept drilling, laughing, "You like flowers? I plant seeds." Now her flower's gone, and a new one's growing in her belly."
"So — this is my little sister. Model face, blonde waves, big blue puppy eyes, mouth made for pouting. Sixteen, seventeen. Tight black lace minidress climbing up her thighs on its own, stockings, the whole angelic-slut starter pack.
New Year’s. She bats her lashes at me: "Big brother, I totally forgot your gift, I feel terrible." Then she stands up, tugs the hem of her dress up over those creamy stocking tops, and peels her black lace panties down her thighs right in front of me. Slow. Deliberate. Little wiggle of the hips as they come off her plump white ass. Drops the still-warm panties in my hand. "Here. Take these."
I almost said thanks. Then I turned. And there he is — the reason. Enormous sweaty migrant "family friend," gut hanging over his belt, mouth open, tongue nearly on the carpet, eyes locked on the exact stretch of thigh she just exposed. He’s practically drooling into his own beard.
Ahhh. Present wasn’t for me. It was a runway show for uncle.
By midnight that ugly gut-monster is grunting on top of my precious sister, mashing his crooked brown cock into her tight pink pussy, and she’s biting her lip like a starving little kitten. Turns out princess likes ‘em rough, ugly, and unwashed.
My real gift is already fizzing in her champagne. Fertility pills. Max strength. She’ll be ovulating like a rabbit right when he blows the third load in her. Sweet dreams, sister. See you at the ultrasound."
5deak2783| Jul 17, 2026
Charge extra? Baby, how old are you even? You don’t look a day over sixteen. That baby face, those big shy blue eyes, that flat tummy still with a little softness — rubbers are for grown-ups, princess. You’re a clean little girl, pure as fresh snow. What would you need protection from?
Certainly not from the fat migrant boiler guy who’s been watching you through the peephole this whole time. He’s clean too. Definitely. Ignore the sores. Ignore the cough. He and two of his gut-heavy buddies just want to lay your skinny porcelain body across the hot wooden bench, spread those tight little thighs, and pump load after load into that virgin teenage cunt. Bareback, of course — you’re clean, remember? Nothing to worry about. Except the thing growing in your belly by autumn.
Misha_biii| Jul 17, 2026
Naive white girls just want an immigrant's hot cock. They believe in their love and sincerity.