Once inside his room he slammed the door shut. He swiftly pinned you against it, pushing himself roughly against you. His lips were like fire. He always knew where to put his hands, how to move his tounge, what exactly to do to make you go crazy. He cupped your chin and pulled you further into his room, his kisses growing sloppy as he tugged off his coat and belt, throwing them to the floor along with his backpack. He backed you up against his desk, practically pushing you ontop of it, his lips never left your body. He pulled your hair back, softly kissing your jawline before growing more intense and rough with your neck, leaving marks scattered all across your soft skin.

You pushed him off with a small giggle, pulling your top over your head. He bit his lip and helped tug off your bottoms, practically drooling over you. The buldge in his pants was obvious, painfully obvious. You pulled him back in for a kiss and trailed your hand down to his jeans, playing with the zipper and brushing your fingers against him. He let out something between whine and a groan, "fuck, you're such a slut," he breathed into your neck, pairing it with a rough squeeze of your ass. He grabbed your wrists and bent you over the desk, pinning you down heavy and harsh. He started grinding his crotch against yours, making the wetness of your cunt obvious. 

"Fucking like that baby? Yeah? God, you're such a fucking slut, all fucking dumb and drooling for me," he growled, sticking his thumb in your mouth with his free hand. He gripped your jaw tight, thumb in your mouth, pointer on your jaw, the rest of his fingers trailing down your neck. He forced you to look at him, "I wanna hear you fucking say it. Say you're a dumb, fucking, slut," the way he said the last three words, punctuated, slow. A harsh, teasing, command. 

"I-I'm a dumb f-fucking slut," you murmered, looking up at him with hazy, dumb, eyes, and drool all over your chin. 

"Say it louder." 

"I'm a d-dumb fucking slut!" you groaned, coming out slurred due to his finger obstructing your tongue. "That's a good fucking whore," he muttered, taking his hand out of your mouth suddenly, moving it to your neck, squeezing just enough.. He unpinned your arms and as your hands made their way to your breasts, his hand moved to your panties. He pulled them down so they were just hanging down on one leg. He slapped your cunt a couple times, moving two digits to your pussy and his thumb on your clit. He pumped his fingers a couple times before he pulled out his cock, his pants and boxers halfway down his legs. He leaned down into you, pressing his head into your neck, nipping it roughly. He pushed his cock into you before steadying his hands, one at your waist for support and the other squeezing a breast. 

He set out a fast pace, which you expected. He only degraded you like this (or worse) when he needed to fuck you. You gripped onto his neck and let out staccotic moans to match his pace. You guys were being fucking loud. You could probably hear it in the house down, your loud long moans, his groans, curses screamed from you and curses aimed at you from him. And that's when you heard it, the car, then the jingle of some keys. Stans mom was home. Stan clapped his hand over your mouth and burried his head into your chest, his breath was hot and heavy againt your breasts. Occasionally he'd press a kiss into one of them. 

"Stanley? Stanley?" You froze, Stan didn't. "Yeah, mom?" He yelled back, lifting his head up to do so. "I'm home! Gonna do the laundry!" She yelled, you could hear her toss her keys down. Stan slowed down, fucking slower, deeper, harder. "Okay! My girlfriends over!" He half yelled, half groaned back. She yelled back a slew of greetings but you didn't hear her; you couldn't over Stans breath. He kept his hand firmly over your mouth, the other hand stationing firmly on your clit. You could just about scream, but you didn't, not with Stans hand over your mouth. You were drooling all over his hand. He felt so good, maybe the best hes ever been. 

He kept up a harsh and heavy rhythm, it was so fucking deep, and he felt so fucking big. He was twitching inside of you, you didn't care, you had plan b. You gripped his neck tighter, pulling him even more impossibly close. He grunted into your neck, breathing out; "When I cum, keep your fucking mouth shut". You wanted to bite him, fuck. He kept his hand clasped over your mouth, his other hand rubbing hard circles into your clit. He pushed deeper into you, his movements becoming more intense and erratic. "You're such a fucking slut, drooling everywhere while I have you pinned to the desk, my desk. With my mom fuckin' downstairs. Perverted little whore". 

There was a knock at the door, but it was barely heard over the sound of skin slapping and you twos breathing. He fucked deeper into you, groaning louder, too loud. He was so close, and you were too, it was getting harder for him to stifle your moans. And thats when he pushed into for the last time that his mom walked in, mid cream-pie. You didn't know if you locked the door and she unlocked it or if you left unlocked to begin with. Either way, it didn't matter, she saw. "Stanley Marsh!" she scolded, his cum leaking out of you and onto the desk. "Are you not wearing a condom?! We talked about this young man, you can half sex under my roof as long as you use the condoms your father gave you!" she continued, slapping his head with a spare rag from the laundry. "Mommmm," he groaned, "it's fine she's on birth control and has plan-b". She looked at him with disapproval but quickly turned away, leaving the laundry on his bed. Before she exited the room she ended it with, "and nice to see you darling, stay for dinner!" directed at you. 

Stan pulled out of you and wiped you up with a washcloth, helping you off the desk and handing your bottoms to you. "Now, go piss girl," he said, with a playful squeeze of your ass.