Robby’s Bunny

"You fucking liar!"

Robby frowns, pressing his ear up against the bedroom door. You'd excused yourself shortly after finishing lunch, taking the call from one of your friends back home in his bedroom. His hand is on the doorknob, about to ask you what's wrong when he stops.

"You told me that when you let Johnny…in the backdoor it helped you with your urges but it didn't. If anything it's worse. I just keep thinking about what it would feel like in-inside me."

He chuckles, waiting on his side of the door. Over the past few months you've gotten a little more confident in the bedroom, but you still have trouble expressing your needs. He thinks it's cute and a part of him hopes you'll always stay a little shy.

"No! I'm finishing," he wishes he could hear the other side of the conversation, but your exasperated yells are just as amusing, "But he said he doesn't want to ruin my virtue for my future husband. But the more he does it the more I just feel…feel empty."

He barely hears that last part, whispered in embarrassment, but it fills him with vindication anyways. He already has his appointment with the jewelers booked anyway.

He raises his fist, rapping on the door a few times and giving you a minute to finish your conversation before turning the knob and pushing through. You rush your goodbyes and hang up the phone, looking down at the floor like you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

"Everything alright, sweetheart?"

"Yeah," you say with a sweet smile, "Just catching up with Kathy."

"Kathy? That's the one your parents told you to stay away from right?"

"She's really nice," you say with wide eyes, chewing on your bottom lip, "They just found out that she lost her virginity when we were 14 and didn't want me to follow her."

"You don't have to defend yourself to me, kid," Robby chuckles, coming to sit on the bed, pulling you in between his thighs.

You're wearing one of your matching pajama sets he's come to grow fond of. It's pink with thin straps and a bow that ties under your breasts with shorts to match. Your hands land on either side of his head, scratching at the skin under his beard.

"Did she have sex sex, or holy sex," he jests, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"Sex sex," you respond, "But only with the first guy because she thought they were going to get married. But he dumped her when he went to university. After that it was only…her butt from then on until she got married."

"Ah," he nods. He thinks it's silly, sex is sex - if anything this is worse - but he's had trouble with women getting nervous about seeing his size and slamming the back door shut (one time the front door too).

Call him a pervert if you want, but he's been given the opportunity to mold you the way he sees fit, and he's going to take it.

"What were you talking about?" he asks, pulling you closer as if he hadn't heard most of the conversation.

"Nothing," you murmur, bending down to kiss him. Just as you're about to touch his lips, he pulls away.

"Nothing? You didn't tell her anything about feeling empty," his hands grip your ass, massaging circles into your cheeks. He pulls you into his lap.

You groan, hiding your face in his neck, "You heard all that?"

"Just the last bit, kid," Robby hates this particular set. The bow is a lie. When he pulls it, none of the fabric falls away. And yet he falls for it every time, "Why aren't you telling me things?"

"You'll make fun of me."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because every time I ask you to-to make love to me you say that I have to wait for my husband."

"I'm just following your wishes, baby."

You lift your head up, looking at him with a pout, "I changed my mind, Michael."

"You don't know what you want, sweetheart, " he leans forward, pecking you on the lips, "You're doing the right thing. Your future husband will thank you."

He toys with the ring finger on your left hand.

"But if what we're doing isn't enough there are other things we can try."

"Micheal!" you yelp as he rips your sleep top in his hands. The torn fabric falling off your body.

"I'll get you a new one, kid."

*****

He's got you bent over, that pretty ass of yours perched on top of your legs as his hands hold your hips still. The skin between your cheeks is starting get irritated from his beard but you haven't told him to stop.

"Mich-uhh," the last part of his name dissolves into a hiccup. It's music to his ears.

He groans as he laps at your hole. You keep squirming in his grasp, but he keeps his grip strong. His only complaint is that he can't see the way ears stream down your face like this, but he keeps going and circles the rim of your ass once more.

"Feel good, princess?" he asks, dipping his thumb in your hole, "Use your words."

"Mhm," you groan, nodding against your pillow, "St-still want you to make love to me, though."