by Sally Cox
“Yes? Yes?” he said.
“Sorry,” I said, and I could smell him, too, freshly showered but smelling very masculine. I could feel my heart beating faster, my breath quickening, my pussy getting wet. “I’m doing my community service hours, you know, for the high school,” and I hiked a thumb back over my shoulder in the school’s general, vague direction.
“Oh, right, yes,” he said, “I’ve heard about that, I’m glad we didn’t have to do that in my day, pain in the ass…” he trailed off, his smile fading as he sees maybe my look of disinterest in how things used to be, or maybe he feels something too and doesn’t want to sound too old to me.
“Right, well, I mean—anything you need done, cleaning, mowing lawns, whatever,” I said, looking at my feet, my face feeling hot—I’m terrified I’m blushing. I’m surprised my pussy juice isn’t running down my legs, and here I was in white Daisy Dukes and a low-cut crop top. I probably looked like real white trash from some trailer park.
But I looked up when he didn’t respond and saw his eyes had lit up. I’m surprised I didn’t see a lit lightbulb hanging in the air over his head. I’m also surprised his towel isn’t tented out with a massive erection because he’s looking me over from head-to-toe and practically has his tongue lolling out. “I know something you could do for me,” he said, practically licking his lips. If most men had looked at me like that, or said something like that to me, I might have slapped them. But he was very handsome. I could see that much better now than before, when I’d only seen him from afar, and seeing him now half naked in just a towel. Chiseled jaw, big chest, big muscular arms, broad shoulders, very handsome… A handsome man could get away with almost anything, behavior that would be labelled creepy in an ugly guy. I think I might even have giggled.
“How about babysitting?” he said, eagerly.
I don’t know if my face fell. I had been half-hoping, half-terrified he was going to ask me to perform some other service for him, and I felt myself get even wetter at the prospect. “Babysitting?” I said, tremulously, my voice cracking a little.
“Yes, I need to be out all day tomorrow, my ex-wife dumped my kid on me, it’s supposed to be her weekend.”
“Yeah, she seems like…” I trailed off. “Sorry, never mind.”
“What?” he half-smiled.
I shook my head. “No, sorry, never mind.”
“She is a bitch, it’s okay,” he said. “I know it.”
I forced a laugh. “Okay, well…”
“Anyway,” he said, “can you do it?”
“Well, uh, I guess I could…I’ve babysit before…”
“He’s real easy, don’t worry, he’ll be a dream,” Joe said. “And I can pay you.”
“Oh, well,” I said, but I guess my face must have lightened or something because he laughed.
“That always makes a difference,” he said, and thrust his hand out at me. I shook it. “Tomorrow morning, 9 AM,” he said.
“Okay, tomorrow, 9 AM, I’m just down the street,” I said, indicating with a sideways nod of my head.
“Right, okay, thanks,” he said, disappearing inside, starting to close the door, probably so I wouldn’t have time to change my mind. It opened again a little. “Oh, what’s your name?” he said.
“Penny,” I said.
“Pretty,” he said, and the door closed.
I went home to masturbate.
I came round the next morning at about a quarter to 9 and he introduced me to Paul, then almost immediately left. I might have wondered about a father entrusting his son to someone he didn’t really know, but I guess he figured I was Tara’s friend, and the whole thing with it being for my community hours, etc.
Paul and I spent the day having what I admit was a lot of fun. I didn’t know if I’d ever want kids of my own, but if they could be like Paul I might consider it. We drew pictures, colored, played with water guns in the backyard (and, I admit, in the house), watched TV, played video games, board games… Then as it started to get dark I put him to bed. I flopped down on the couch, exhausted but happy, and watch TV for a while. Then I got bored. TV sucked, and Joe didn’t have Netflix or anything else. I decided a little harmless snooping was in order. I was curious as to what I might find anyway.
There really wasn’t anything to find at first. I went all round the house and everything was so tidy and organized, no clutter at all, no dust, it was like he was a very attractive Rain Man or an ex-Marine or something—everything squared away to pass inspection, I thought with a smile.
I had put off looking around his bedroom. I was maybe a little worried about what I might find, or I wanted to save the best for last. I found he was a little bit old-school when it came to porn. There was a password-protected laptop on the nightstand, and these days most people’s porn “stash” was on the computer, but I found in the nightstand drawer a handful of porn magazines and even a couple DVDs. I flipped through the magazines and, getting excited, even stripped down and tried out some of the poses on his bed. His closet had a full-length mirror and I was excited to look at myself. I rarely had privacy at home, and I toyed with the idea of masturbating here, but didn’t know whether to risk it—how embarrassing if Paul woke up and walked in on me, or if I didn’t hear Joe come back home. Although, I was excited by the idea of Joe walking in on me. Despite our flirtation, I doubted a grown man would want someone as young and inexperienced as me.
In the nightstand, at the bottom underneath the magazines, there was a manila envelope, unsealed. I opened it and dumped out the contents on the bed. It was dozens of Polaroids, photos of Joe and his ex-wife, sometimes each separately, sometimes together having sex. Despite having decided not to, I couldn’t help reaching down and touching myself between my legs. His broad shoulders, big, toned chest, big arms, sixpack abs…and an enormous penis. I couldn’t believe how big it was. This was a real man. Not some high school boy, or a lame college guy, but a man. Exactly what I needed, if he would ever touch me. I felt with my fingers how wet I was. I started to finger myself, then brought some of my wetness on two fingers to rub my clit. I was very close to orgasm already.
Then I heard the front door open and close.
I sprang up, scattering the photos everywhere.
I pulled on my panties, I couldn’t get them on—they twisted, I put my right leg through the left leg hole… Finally I got them on, then the shorts, white jean shorts, zipped them up, I couldn’t do the button, I’d have to leave it… The top on, no bra, I hadn’t worn one… I grabbed the envelope and tried desperately to get all the photos back in, fumbling them, dropping some which I just kicked under the bed… He was calling out to me. I crammed the envelope into the nightstand drawer, flung the magazines in on top, and turned just as he entered the bedroom, he didn’t look happy.
“What are you doing in here?” he said, annoyed. He looked around, and even sniffed—could he smell me?
“Uh, just tidying up,” I said, “I was bored, so…”
He looked past me and saw the nightstand drawer hadn’t quite closed all the way. “How was Paul?”
“Er, he was a dream,” I said, truthfully, “I just put him down about a half hour ago.” I felt very hot again, my head felt huge like I had a fever or something.
“Were you looking in there?” he asked. Then he noticed something on the floor, one of the photos I thought I’d kicked under the bed, but just a corner of it was peaking out from underneath. He picked it up. He had looked very angry, but now, looking at the photo, then up at me, he cocked his head a little to one side and smiled crookedly. “So what did you think?”
I was floundering, I spoke but it was all gibberish at first, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if I’d had flopsweat. I felt like some comedian from one of those old black-and-white movie shorts, like the Three Stooges, maybe Shemp. “I, uh…er,” I said, then blurted out “are you really that big?”
He looked taken aback, like he’d started this but hadn’t expected that response. “Uh, yeah, I a
m,” he said, shrugging. “Want to see?” I could see he was getting a little excited too.
“I’m eighteen,” I said suddenly, in case he was worried about that, “I can show you my ID.”
“I know you’re eighteen,” he said, grinning, “I had you checked out before I let you watch my son, background check. You know I did some work with the NSA at one time, I called in a favor…” As he said this, he kicked off his shoes, at the same time undoing his belt and slipping it off, pulled his tie off and unbuttoned his shirt. He was about to unzip his pants too when he said, “Why don’t you do that?”
I went to him, almost stumbling, I was so nervous. Was it going to happen? I didn’t care about the age difference, he was so hot, and this was what I’d wanted—to lose my virginity, but especially to lose it to a man like this. A man, like I’d said before, not a boy. And what a man.
I fumbled with his zipper but forced myself to breath more slowly and calmed myself, I unzipped him. He’d undone the button already. I pulled them down. He was in boxer briefs, the bulge huge, he was semi-erect.
“Do it,” he said. “See for yourself.”
I pulled them down and his huge cock sprang free. “I’m a virgin,” I said suddenly, afraid that I wouldn’t please him.
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” he said, beaming, and he reached for my hand and put it on his cock. It felt huge, I could barely get my hand around it as it got harder and harder. I started stroking it. He was uncut, and as I stroked it and it grew in size the foreskin rolled back. It looked so good, I found myself leaning in to it, my mouth open, my tongue moistening my lips. But he pulled me up and said, “Not yet,” and kissed me on the lips, his tongue sliding inside, toying with mine and I felt myself getting wetter and wetter.
He broke the kiss and reached to pull off my top. It came up over my head and my tits were free, jigging slightly from the movement. He dropped the shirt and his big hands moved undo the button of my jean shorts, then the zipper, and he forced them down, over my thighs, he started kissing my neck as he slid a hand into my panties, feeling my wetness.
He kissed his way down, stopping to lick and suck gently at my nipples, kissing my breasts, then down and down, and with his teeth pulled my panties off. I could feel his nose on my pussy, his tongue in between my lips, he kissed my clit, then came back up again, kissing his way up, until he was kissing my mouth again and I felt my hand going to his cock and stroking it again. It felt so hard and hot but also soft, like thick silk stretched over iron.
I broke the kiss. I wanted to taste him. I wanted his beautiful penis in my mouth.
The head slipped inside, and I was very conscious of my teeth. And very conscious of my lack of experience in all of this. I sucked on the head with my lips and ran my tongue around it. He seemed to like that. He groaned. “We have to…be quiet,” he said.
I took a chance, never having done it before, not knowing if I could, and tried to take his entire length at once, to deepthroat him. I remember what Tara had told me about how to do this. I managed it, or almost, and managed to withdraw without gagging on it. I sucked on the head again.
“Play with my balls,” he said, and I reached for them, carefully, rolling them around in my hand, kissing them. I’d seen in porn how women would suck on each testicle separately, and thought he might like that—he did. “Good, good,” he said, “but squeeze them too.” I did, lightly at first but he kept saying “harder” and I did it harder, and twisted them from side to side, sucking on the head of his cock again until he finally told me to stop, saying, “Not yet, I don’t want to come yet,” and he picked me up as though I weighed nothing and lay me carefully on the bed.
His massive cock stood out, huge and red. It looked beautiful. I couldn’t believe this was finally happening, but I was also a little scared—I was a virgin and I didn’t know if I could take his size. I had masturbated a lot, and used dildos, some what I thought were big, I knew now what big was. I was afraid it would hurt.
“Let me taste you,” he said, and got between my legs, forcing them gently apart. “Beautiful,” he said, “such a beautiful pussy,” he tasted me again, licking between my lips, then sucking on each lip separately, he licked me again from ass to clit, then carefully revealed my clit and licked all around it before taking it between his lips. I groaned loudly, not caring about being quiet, not in that moment, and I touched my breasts as he ate me, I tweaked my nipples, pulling hard on them, twisted them, feeling the pleasure-pain mixed with the intense pleasure he was giving me. I couldn’t believe how good it felt, I was so close to orgasm already, but as good as it felt I didn’t want to cum that way.”
“Please,” I said, and I could barely speak at all, “I want you to cum inside me.”
“Let me,” he said, and I thought he might have been about to get a condom. I looked up and saw his handsome face shining wet with my juices.
“I’m on the pill,” I said, and this was true—just in case. “I want you to cum in me, inside me, I want to feel it.”
His smiled. He kissed me on the lips and I could taste myself, it excited me even more. “Yes,” I hissed, and threw my hand back, arching my back, pushing my breasts up. He moved to kiss them again, to suck on the nipples, even bite them a little, and pull on them with his teeth. I groaned deeply.
He got up suddenly, went quickly to the door, shut and locked it, then he was back with me, kissing me again, kissing my neck and all down my body, kissing my legs, my thighs, into my wetness again, then back up again and he crawled between my legs. I raised myself on one arm and grabbed his hard cock again, stroking it savagely a few times, then I lay back. “Give it to me,” I ordered, “fuck me!”
He slid his cock between my lips a few times, not entering me, and rubbed the head of it against my clit, driving me mad.
“Fuck me!” I said again, almost savagely, teeth gritted, desperate. Then, “Please,” almost pleading.
He sank into me, sliding in right to the hilt, balls-deep. I groaned, loud and long.
“Yes,” I sighed. “Oh yes, so good, so good.”
He started thrusting, slow at first, then faster, faster, faster.
I could feel my excitement growing.
“Harder,” I said, “harder, please,” pleading again, desperate. I need to cum, but at the same time I didn’t want to cum—it was such sweet torture to feel my pleasure build and build and to find no release. And he did as I asked, thrusting his huge dong into my tight, clasping virgin hole as hard and fast he could.
“You okay?” he said, gasping.
“I can take it,” I said, equally breathless. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop… I’m close, so close…” I felt it, nearer and nearer, but frustratingly far away—deliciously frustratingly far away. He slammed into me to the hilt again and this time started grinding clockwise and then counterclockwise, then pulled out till just the tip was inside me, the slamming hard into me. He did that over and over again.
I pulled the pillow out from behind my hand and put it over my face. I was so close, and I knew I was going to scream.
I had been a virgin, but of course I had masturbated a lot. I had cum a lot. I thought I had cum hard before. But never like this. I couldn’t believe I had missed out on this, but then it wouldn’t probably have been so good with another guy. High school guys were inexperienced, clumsy, small.
I lifted the pillow off my face for a second and gasped out, “I’m so close, baby, so close, fuck me hard,” and then pressed the pillow back over my face.
He put my legs on his shoulders, then pushed them back, back, and held them by the ankle with one hand. He licked his other thumb and started to play with my clit as he slowly thrust in and out of me—then, planting his knees, he took another pillow and lifted me up off the bed and put the pillow under my ass.
Then he started thrusting again, hard, fast, deep—pulled out so only the tip of the head was inside, thrusting fast and hard and deep into me, balls deep, then out again, and over and over again.
My orgasm hit me.
I screamed out “Oh God” into the pillow over and over, shrill, almost mindless with pleasure.
He slammed into me one last time and, almost on top of me, buried his face in the pillow I had over my face—and he erupted, spewing his hot cum inside my rippling, clasping, gripping pussy.
I could feel him pulsing, feel each hot shot of cum, could hear him groan loud and long mixed with my shrill, muffled screams.
Finally, my orgasm peaked and started to fade, deliciously slipping away, such a sweet, sweet release.
Joe ripped the pillow away from my face and kissed me, hard, then buried his face in my neck. He let go of my ankles and my legs fell to rest on his broad shoulders. We were both breathing like we’d just run a marathon. He pulled his head back and grinned at me. I grinned back. “Oh my God, that was so good,” I said, and I was suddenly so tired.
He pulled out, his cock sliding wetly from my gaping pussy, and I could feel his cum running out. My legs slipped off his shoulders and I lay there spread-eagled.
He lay on his back next to me and I felt between my legs, felt that delicious ache that I knew I was now addicted to. I brought my fingers up with white cum on them, sticky, sniffed, then sucked. I liked the taste.
He rolled on his side and slid two fingers in my pussy, and used those cum-coated fingers to play with my clit. “No,” I said, “I’m too sensitive,” and he brought those fingers up to my mouth and I sucked on them. “Yummy,” I said with a laugh.
“I can’t believe you were a virgin,” he said. “You’re a natural.”
I said, “I’m glad I waited, so glad I waited for you. What a wonderful fuck.”
“Much better than those high school chumps,” he said with a big smile.
I reached between his legs and gently squeezed his balls, then his now-flaccid but still monster cock. “Mm, yes, definitely,” I said. He laughed again.