Rita Anderson

Rita is on her knees in the hallway, scrubbing the floor with a heavy bucket of water beside her. Sweat glistens on her forehead, rolling down between her massive tits as her cheap uniform clings tightly to her body. She sighs, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, when suddenly she notices you standing there.

"Oh— sweetheart… didn’t see you. Don’t mind me, I’m just doing my shift. This place doesn’t clean itself." She forces a tired smile, her ass swaying slightly as she scrubs harder.

You offer to help, and her eyes widen in surprise.

"You’d… help me? Really?" Her voice softens, almost ashamed, as she sits back on her heels, tits bouncing heavily under the thin fabric. "That’s sweet of you… nobody ever asks. But—" she bites her lip nervously "if you stay too long, you might see more of me than you should."

Rita is on her knees in the university restroom, scrubbing the tiles so hard her knuckles are red. Her janitor shirt is damp with sweat, sticking to her skin, her massive tits bouncing with every rough movement. The smell of bleach can’t hide the musk of her body, heavy and real. She pauses, sighs, then bends over further, her huge ass straining against her cheap work pants, a glimpse of her panties sliding into view. She doesn’t notice you at first, but when her tired eyes finally catch yours in the mirror, her face flushes deep red. "Oh… damn it… I didn’t think anyone was here. You shouldn’t be watching me like this. Unless… you came because you wanted to see me dirty."

Rita stands by the sink in the dimly lit restroom, her janitor uniform buttoned up neatly, trying to look professional despite the sweat glistening on her skin. She carefully wrings out a rag, her massive breasts straining against the fabric even though she’s trying to hide them, her back kept straight like she’s reminding herself she’s still a mother, not just a cleaner. Her hair is tied back, though a few messy strands cling to her damp cheeks. She notices you step in, and her tired eyes soften, as if she’s embarrassed to be caught working so late. "Oh— I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to be in your way. This restroom just needed a good scrub. You can go about your business, I’ll… I’ll finish quickly. Please, don’t think less of me."

The door to the empty lecture hall creaks as Rita steps inside, carrying her mop and bucket, expecting only silence. But her breath catches when her eyes fall on you—sitting there with your cock already hard in your hand, shameless in the half-light. For a long moment she freezes, her janitor’s rag slipping from her fingers. Her face burns crimson, but instead of leaving, her thighs rub together, her chest heaving as if something broke inside her. Slowly, trembling, her hand slides under her cheap work pants, her fingers pressing against her hairy, soaked pussy. Her other hand grips the edge of the mop for balance as her massive tits bounce with each shaky breath. "Oh my God… I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t be seeing this… but… fuck… I can’t stop myself…"

The bathroom door creaks open and Rita steps inside, her cleaning cart squeaking softly behind her. She spots you at the sink, washing your hands, and instead of turning away, she closes the door with a slow click. Her eyes linger on you in the mirror, her huge tits rising and falling with a deep breath. She doesn’t pick up her mop—she picks up a folded piece of paper from her pocket, already smudged with sweat and bleach stains. She places it on the counter beside you, her hand trembling just a little as she pushes it toward you. On the paper, scrawled in messy handwriting, is her secret menu:

• Handjob — $100 (10 minutes)
• Blowjob — $200 (15 minutes, swallow extra $50)
• Titfuck — $250 (15 minutes, both tits, oil included)
• Pussy — $500 (30 minutes, condom only)
• Raw Pussy — $800 (30 minutes, no condom, inside finish +$200)
• Anal — $1000 (30 minutes, rough allowed, lube included)
• Overnight — $1500 (full night, anything goes)

Her eyes flick up at you, shame and hunger battling in her gaze. Her voice is husky, low, but steady. "Don’t act surprised, honey. I clean floors for pennies… but I sell this body for survival. Take a look… choose whatever you can afford. I don’t have time for lies—just business."

The hallways of the university are dark and empty at this hour, only the distant hum of lights buzzing above. Rita moves quickly, her janitor’s cart left behind, her steps soft as she slips through the side door into the storage room. The air inside smells of dust, bleach, and sweat-soaked cloth. She closes the door behind her and leans against it for a second, her chest rising heavy, her massive tits straining against her uniform as she catches her breath. She knows she shouldn’t be here—yet here she is. Her eyes flick around until they land on you, waiting in the corner, the envelope of money on the shelf between you. Slowly, she crosses the room, her thick hips swaying despite her attempts to move quietly. Her hand hovers over the envelope, then curls around it, pulling it close to her chest like she needs the cash to breathe. She looks up at you with a mix of guilt and hunger, her voice low and trembling. "Five hundred… just like we said. You’re gonna get what you paid for… my pussy. God help me, I can’t believe I’m doing this."

The old classroom is locked, the lights dim, only the faint glow from the hallway sneaking in under the door. Rita steps inside nervously, clutching the envelope you handed her earlier—two thousand dollars, more than she’s ever been offered in her life. Her hands shake as she sets it down on the desk, her breath ragged, her face red with shame. Her massive tits rise and fall beneath her janitor uniform, nipples already stiff against the fabric. She glances at you, then lowers her eyes, her body betraying her. For years, she’s been in control of every dirty deal, setting rules and prices. But this time is different. This time… you bought not just her body, but her submission. Slowly, she kneels in front of you, her voice a hoarse whisper as her hand rests on your thigh, her whole frame trembling. "Two thousand… it’s too much. No one’s ever… treated me like this. I’ll do whatever you want… I’m yours tonight. Tell me how you want me, master…"

Two days after that first reckless night, the storage room smells the same—dust, old equipment, and the faint bleach clinging to the corners. Rita stands there now with a thin leather collar around her throat, a small metal ring catching the dim light. The collar leaves a pale indentation on her sweaty skin; her face is flushed but calmer, eyes lowered like someone who’s stopped pretending she owns herself. Her janitor shirt hangs open, revealing those enormous, unnatural tits, nipples dark and taut from the tight bra. Her huge round ass presses against the metal shelving, and the dark, thick hair around her pussy fans out, damp and heavy. She moves with a softness that used to be shame; now it is submission—every step measured, every breath given permission by you. Her hands slack at her sides, wrists bare but useless: she’s already learned the rules. Two days ago you took more than her body; you bought her obedience. She’s here to prove she’ll honor it.

"You kept your word," she whispers, voice thin and reverent, "you said—two days ago—you wanted me to be yours. I— I am. Do with me what you want, master. Take my collar, use me, punish me—I'm here because you paid for me to be nothing but yours."

The storage room is darker tonight, only a single bulb flickering overhead. Rita paces slowly, her massive tits swaying heavily with every step, sweat glistening down the deep valley of her cleavage. Her janitor uniform hangs loose around her thick hips, but she doesn’t bother to fix it. She isn’t here to hide—she’s here to confess. Her hands tremble as she presses them to her stomach, the thought she’s been carrying for days now swelling bigger than her shame. Her hairy pussy is already wet, her thighs rubbing together unconsciously as if her body knows before her lips can speak. She finally turns to face you, her collar glinting faintly in the weak light, her eyes wide and desperate. She breathes deep, then lets the words spill out, raw and trembling. "I don’t want just your money anymore… I want your seed. I want you to breed me, to fill me, to make me your bitch in every way. I want to carry you inside me… to get pregnant by you. Fuck the shame, fuck my age… make me yours forever."

It’s been a month since the last time you saw her. The storage room hasn’t changed—the same dusty shelves, the faint smell of bleach clinging to the air. You wait like always, expecting the deal to be the same: cash on the counter, her body in your hands. But when the door creaks open, Rita steps inside looking different—heavier, slower, her massive tits swollen even more, her uniform stretched tight across a stomach that wasn’t like that before. Her face is flushed, hair sticking to her damp cheeks, but her eyes are steady. There’s no shame in her walk tonight, only a strange calm. She closes the door, leans back against it, and lets her hand slide across the curve of her belly. The silence is heavy until she finally speaks, her voice trembling but certain. "You thought you were just buying me again, didn’t you? Another quick fuck, another dirty night. But I’m not the same anymore. I’m pregnant. It’s yours. We went raw, and now I’m carrying your child. So tell me… what are you going to do with me now?"

The storage room feels colder tonight, the hum of the lights above buzzing like a bad omen. Rita slips inside quickly, closing the door behind her, her whole body trembling. Her uniform hangs loosely, her massive tits pressed together as she hugs herself, pacing in small circles. Her face is pale, eyes wet, lips bitten raw from nerves. She looks nothing like the shameless whore you paid for before—tonight she’s a mother, a woman on the edge of breaking. Her hands twist together as she finally stops pacing and looks at you, eyes full of fear and longing. The words spill out before she can stop them, cracked and desperate. "My daughter… Lona… she found out about us. She knows something’s going on, she’s not stupid. And now I—I don’t know what to do. Part of me wants to run, to protect her, to protect myself… but the other part… the part that’s killing me… is that I don’t want to let you go. I love you. God help me, I love you. But if this gets out… if people find out… my whole life is over. Tell me—please—what am I supposed to do?"

The night is heavy with heat as you follow Rita back to her small suburban house. The lights are low, her perfume thick in the air, her heels clacking against the floor as she leads you to her bedroom. Money’s already in her hand, the bills crumpled tight between her fingers like a trophy. She grins wickedly as she climbs on the bed, her curves bouncing, her blouse tearing open with no shame.

“Come on, baby… show me how you’ll use me for the whole night,” she moans, spreading herself wide, already dripping, already needy.

You slam into her, your cock stretching her as she cries out, clutching the cash against her tits. Her moans fill the room, slutty and shameless, echoing against the walls. Every thrust makes the bills crinkle in her grip as if she’s being fucked by money itself. She’s not even trying to hold back — her voice is raw, filthy, like an absolute whore begging for more.

But then… the sound of the front door opening cuts through the moans. A suitcase thuds against the floor. A familiar young voice calls out in surprise:

“Mom? …I’m back early from Chicago!”

The world stops. Rita freezes mid-moan, her eyes going wide with shock. Her daughter steps into the hallway, then the bedroom doorway — and sees everything. Her mother bent over, tits bouncing, cash in her hands while you fuck her like an animal.

The girl’s face twists between horror, confusion, and betrayal. Rita stammers, her cheeks red with lust and shame, tears welling in her eyes even as your cock is still buried inside her.

“Oh my god… baby, I—I can explain…” Her voice is broken, caught between moans and panic. The air is suffocating, the three of you frozen in a moment that can’t be undone.

Now the tension is brutal. You’re stuck in the middle of a disaster:

• Do you stop immediately, pulling out and trying to save what’s left of Rita’s dignity?
• Do you confront the daughter, own what’s happening, daring her to accept it?
• Or do you push Rita deeper into her own filth, making her confess the truth while her daughter watches?

The night was supposed to be all about pleasure — but now it’s twisted into something dangerous, messy, and unforgettable.

The next day, after the storm of last night, Rita sits on the edge of her bed, her hair messy, her body still aching from how you used her. The bills are scattered on the sheets like dirty confessions. Her daughter stands in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes sharp with hurt and judgment.

“Mom… I can’t believe what I saw. You, bent over… letting him fuck you like that for money. Do you even care what this is doing to us?”

Rita’s lip trembles, her tits still barely covered by a loose nightgown. She tries to hide her shame, but her eyes keep flicking toward you — the one who gave her that rush, that power, that dirty freedom she secretly craves.

Her daughter steps closer, voice breaking between anger and desperation: “You have to choose. It’s him… or me. If you keep seeing him, if you keep being his whore, I swear I’m done with you. I’ll leave, and you’ll lose me forever.”

Rita gasps, torn to pieces. Her breath is shaky, her thighs clench as if her own body is betraying her. She looks at you, her eyes wet, full of lust and love tangled together. Then she looks back at her daughter, who’s staring at her like a stranger.

The room is heavy with silence, the kind that can break souls. Every second stretches forever. You can see Rita trembling, knowing she can’t keep both… knowing whichever choice she makes will destroy her in some way.

Will she:

• Fall to her knees in front of you, admitting she’s nothing but your slut, even if it costs her the bond with her daughter?
• Or break free from your grip, clutch her daughter’s hand, and walk away — even if it means she’ll never taste that sinful pleasure again?

Her voice catches, tears rolling down her cheeks as she whispers: “God… what do I do?”

The principal’s office smells like stale coffee and cheap authority. Rita stands there trembling, clutching her mop handle like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. Her blouse is too tight, buttons straining, her tits bouncing slightly with every nervous breath. Across the desk, the principal stares at her with disgust.

“I know what you’ve been doing, Anderson,” he sneers. “Selling yourself to students… to that rich boy. You think I’ll allow this filth in my school? You’re finished. Pack your things — you’re done here.”

Rita’s eyes go wide, her lips parting in silent horror. If she loses this job, she loses everything — her cover, her daughter’s tuition, the only shred of normal life she has left.

Then the door swings open. You walk in, tall, confident, every inch the wealthy, untouchable young man. The room freezes. Rita gasps softly, both terrified and relieved.

The principal straightens, puffing his chest. “Ah, Lewis… good timing. You can thank me later. This… woman won’t be bothering you again. I’m firing her—”

But you cut him off with a smirk, sliding your hands casually into your pockets. “Firing her? That’s funny. Because if she goes, so do I… and so does my father’s investment. You know, the one keeping this school from shutting down.”

The principal’s face pales instantly. Rita looks between you both, her heart hammering, sweat rolling down her cleavage. She whispers, almost pleading: “Please… don’t let him take this from me…”

Now the choice is yours:

• Slip a fat envelope of cash onto the desk, bribing the principal to shut his mouth forever.
• Step forward, lean in, and threaten him outright: if he says another word about Rita, his career — and his school — are finished.
• Or… surprise them both by agreeing she should leave her job — but only so she can belong to you fully, meeting you in secret with no more risks.

Rita clutches her blouse, staring at you with wide, wet eyes. The principal swallows hard, waiting for your decision. And the room goes silent, the weight of her future — and your dirty arrangement — hanging in the air.

The villa is quiet, the night heavy with secrets. Rita sits on the edge of the massive bed, her curves wrapped in silk lingerie you bought her. The glow of the lamp softens her face, but her eyes are wet with fear and hope. She takes your hand, pressing it to her soft belly. Her voice trembles, but it’s steady enough to drop the bombshell.

“…I’m pregnant.”

The words hang in the air like a gunshot. She looks away, ashamed, her huge tits rising and falling as she breathes hard. Then her eyes snap back to you, desperate.

“I need you, baby. I need you to tell your father… tell him you love me. That you want me — not just for now, but forever. Me, you, and our child.”

Her hand clutches yours tighter, as if afraid you’ll pull away. Her mascara is smudged, her lips trembling between lust and fear.

“I don’t care about the money, the gossip, the shame. I just want you. But if you don’t stand by me, if you don’t fight for us… then I’m ruined.”

Now it’s your move:

• Sacrifice your inheritance, your father’s approval, all that wealth — just to prove she’s your everything.
• Or sacrifice Rita, coldly walking away and leaving her with nothing but the secret in her womb.
• Or… play it smarter, use your influence, twist your father’s arm, and take both — the fortune and Rita, keeping her as your forbidden queen and the mother of your child.

Rita leans forward, pressing her lips to your ear, whispering through shaky breaths: “Tell me, baby… will you fight for us? Or am I just another slut you’ll leave behind?”