A 35 year old man has a hot, brief affair with his 14 year old neighbor
Everyone who knows me, knows I cannot stand my neighbor. First of all, the man is thirty-nine going on ninety and I swear he has never had a happy day in his life. For this, he has no excuse because he lives in a goddamn palace, his wife is smoking-hot, and he's not even that bad looking. Most people in his situation would be pretty damn happy, but not Steve. Unless of course, he is waxing his Porsche. On those occasions, he is nearly orgasmic.
Steve Roth's house is directly across from mine on a wide street in a nice neighborhood in Northern California. My home office window looks out on to his driveway and every weekend I see him caressing his 911 with a touch more sensual than I've ever seen him lay on his wife, Kim. He's not buffing his car, he is making sweet love to it. Meanwhile, his three year old kid is running out into the street nearly getting run over by neighbors who have the nerve to drive on the road -don't they know the street is his child's personal playpen? And before you think I'm some kind of sports car hater, I'll mention that I not only drive a Porsche myself, but, by sheer coincidence, it is the same make, year and model as Steve's. I just don't use mine as a sexual companion.
On Sunday mornings, Fucktard-Steve and Trophy-wife Kim drag the kid, whose name I've yet to learn -I call him Snot-Boy, to church. Good move. Steve strikes me as the kind of guy who racks up sins during the week. Probably with his secretary. Any way, while the three annoyances are out, left at home is their daughter, a depressing vision in black I've dubbed Emo Girl. Emo Girl hates the world. This isn't entirely her fault. After all, her role models are a plastic mother and a wooden father. Still, there is no excuse for floor length black coats layered over black clothing in August when you live in Silicon Valley. Sometimes I want to throw open my office window and scream, "You live in a three million dollar house and have absolutely no problems, for God's sake -cheer the fuck up!"
I do not know where Steve was born, but if I had to guess, I'd say Fantasyland. Wherever he hails from, it is not New York. I know this, because I was raised in New York and, during the time I've known Steve, he's done at least five things that back home would have earned him a hearty ass kicking. He leaves strange notes on the Petersons' door when they play loud music -never mind that they're probably trying to drown out his barking dog or Snot-Boy's tantrums. And, I swear, I saw him sneak on to Peterson's yard once with a bag. I'm still not sure what that was about.
But what's important is this: last Sunday, while Fucktard, Trophy, and Snot-Boy were out confessing their sins, Emo Girl knocked on my door.
"Hey." Emo Girl said with the enthusiasm usually reserved for dentists and Jehovah's Witnesses.
My response was to lean out the door a bit and then look left and right whilst scrunching my eyebrows.
She said, "I'm locked out."
"Oh," I said. "I don't have a key to your place."
"No shit." Emo Girl said, noticeably rolling her eyes in a way that should get you killed if you try it after you turn eighteen.
Then she said, "You think my Dad is a fucktard. Why would you have a key?"
Ah, the directness of youth.
I delivered my best nervous laugh and asked if she tried her parents on her cell, at which point she cocked her head to the side, put a hand on her hip and said, "Do I fucking look like I've got my cell?!"
She had a point. Emo Girl was dripping wet and wearing only a towel. Black, natch.
"I was taking a shower when the fucking dog started barking so I went to let him in, but of course he ran and then," she looked behind her and gestured with her hand, "the door closed and locked me out."
She sighed theatrically. "You going to let me in or what?!"
"Oh, right, Jesus. Come in."
"Let me grab you some clothes," I said. "Here's my cell. Go ahead and call your folks."
I have to admit, she cleaned up nice. Emo Girl was now wearing a pair of my red Stanford U sweats and a matching t-shirt. Her long black hair was pulled up in a pony tail offsetting blue-gray eyes. And her heart-shaped face, without its customary layer of goth make-up, held the freshly-scrubbed beauty of youth. I offered her a Coke, which she accepted, and asked if she was able to get a hold of her parents.
"Yeah, they're on their way back. Thanks."
"No problem." After a moment I asked, "Why did you knock on my door, any way? Not that I mind, I'm just curious."
"Well.. Bethany wasn't home and there was no way I was going to let Tommy Fredricks see me in a towel and," here -I swear- she blushed, "You're cooler than the other older guys on the street."
"Gee, thanks," I said laughing. I'm thirty-five, by the way.
"You know what I mean. You're not old, just older. Than us kids any way. But you're all okay. I hear you listening to Q-Tip, but old school stuff too."
Just then Fucktard pulled up in his sex-toy on wheels. As Emo Girl walked across the street, I caught him glaring at me What the fuck? Did he think I was fooling around with his eighth-grader behind his back or something? Damn. She knocked on my door, pal. And, hello? Get a fucking spare key, why don't you?
Now..my mother is dead, but I think her ghost was hanging around that day because as Fucktard gave me the stink-eye, and Emo Girl bounded across the street rocking my Stanford gear, I heard a voice distinctly in my head, and that voice said, "This will end badly."
It had been about six months since Emo Girl was locked out of her house and, well, things had gotten a bit interesting.
I suppose there had always been tension in the Roth household, but it really seemed to have ratcheted up in the days after Emo Girl happened by. Not that the two events were related. Rather, I think the fact that she was not with her parents that Sunday in the first place was probably just one indication that all was not harmonious in Fucktard's kingdom. At first, it was just the occasional loud voice and peeled tires as one member of the couple or the other would make a break for it during the heat of a fight. Of course, I had a front row seat to the drama from my office, and, for the first few days, I had a good ol' time posting some of their more colorful moments on to my Twitter feed.
I think it was about four days in that I realized a good portion of the arguments were centered around Emo Girl, and if I didn't know it then, I would learn it soon, because that Friday I came home from the store to find her in my living room.
"How the hell did you get in here?" I asked.
"Hello to you too."
"How did you get in here?"
"Unlike my parents, you don't lock your house." She said.
This was true. I've since changed my habit in that regard.
"Ok. Now I know how you got in. Let's talk why."
"Let's not." She said, walking toward me.
My eyes grew wide. "Whoa. Um, what's happening here?"
She walked up close to me, standing no more than three inches away, and smiled. Was she actually coming on to me? I couldn't wrap my mind around this fast enough to keep up with what was happening. Her hand was touching my waist lightly. I decided to be the gentleman.
"Look," I said, "If I've given you the impression..."
"Don't you think I'm pretty?"
Instinctively -I am a man- I looked her over. Her hair was down today and fell to her breasts which were semi exposed under a tight black and white mid-drift t-shirt. The shirt was paired with a black miniskirt which she wore with knee high socks and expensive looking black sneakers. The overall effect was gothy and young, but admittedly sexy. Still, she was fourteen and, while like any man, I had my fantasies, I didn't want to go to jail or get shot by Fucktard Steve.
Because I'm an idiot, I said, "Of course I do, but..." and then nothing.
She said, "I think you're cute."
I'm not bad, actually. My hair is naturally black and my eyes are a deep blue, which probably appealed to her Gothic leanings. I'm also fit and athletically built, having stayed in shape with mountain biking and racquetball.
"Do your parents know you're here?"
She looked at me as if I were a silly child, "Obviously not. You're not even on their radar. They think I'm at Bethany's."
"I'm embarrassed to say I don't even know your name." I couldn't call her Emo Girl forever, right?
I laughed, "You're named after your dad?"
"Yeah," she made a face, "Why's that funny?"
"It's not," I said, recovering. "I like the name, Stephanie."
"Good." She said, moving so close that I could feel her apple-sized breasts against my chest, "Because I like you too, Tim."
And this is where I'm going to admit something I probably shouldn't: Right then, being with Stephanie, it wasn't just the temptation of a beautiful girl, although, that would be enough to weaken any man, it was opportunity to literally fuck Mister Fucktard over. In the seconds that she was pressing up against me, my mind went wild with lusty thoughts, not just of this beautiful creature before me, but also of how delicious it would be to see Steve Roth rubbing down his car, bitching about this or that, one day and be able to think to myself, "hey Fucktard, I loved screwing your fourteen-year-old daughter."
The second that scenario went through my mind, I leaned down and kissed Stephanie full on the lips, taking us both by surprise.
Damn, she was delicious. Immediately, she was returning my kiss, probing my mouth with her tongue, wrapping on to me with both arms, allowing me to run my fingers through her hair. Wow!
I'm sure for her this was about getting back at her parents as much as it was about me. I mean, why me? Why not Tommy from down the block who had been trying to get into her panties all Summer? But who knows why any of these things work the way they do.
As we kissed, I moved a hand to slightly graze against her bosom and was amazed at how full and uplifted it was. She was a good b-size and wearing the flimsiest of bras and yet everything pointed perfectly north. I lifted her shirt over her breasts and kissed her perfectly rounded brown nipples. She arched her head back and let me. Stephanie had done this before. She was so light, barely a hundred pounds, that I had no trouble lifting her and carrying her to my bedroom.
Things were moving at porno speed. If it weren't for the fact that I was certain I was dreaming I might have stopped and considered the moral ramifications. Well, that is, if I had any real sense of morality to begin with, which, if I'm being honest here, I didn't. My life was more about living in the moment and right then, the moment was pretty damn wonderful.
Undressing Stephanie was bliss. Her skin was perfect and unblemished. She looked at me nervously and I wondered if she was a virgin, a safe guess at fourteen, but I didn't want to ask. It was more exciting not knowing.
I eased her back on to the bed, gently tongue kissing her while caressing her bare, girlish breasts. I pinched her nipples and they responded instantly, her whole body rewarding me with a shiver. Smiling, I kissed her lips once more, than her smooth neck, and, finally, her glorious bosom. She put her delicate hands in my hair, softly moaning as I suckled nipples. Easing one hand south, I felt her mound which was covered with just a dusting of dark hair. Gently, I eased her legs apart and slid my index finger vertically, tracing the lines of her tiny slit. Tentatively, I poked the tip of my finger inside of her opening. Damn... she had to have the smallest cunt I had ever felt. I seriously wondered how my now rock-hard cock was going to fit inside of this adolescent girl.
Spreading her legs wider, I moved down to lick her pinkish pussy lips. She tasted sweet and unspoiled. After getting her good and wet, I continued to lick her tiny hood while gently fingering her cunt with just one finger. Even that felt snug, so it was no surprise that trying to introduce a second finger was difficult. As I tenderly eased my middle finger inside of her along side my index, I thought back to my youth. My first time had been when I was sixteen and that had been with another sixteen year old. Stephanie was the youngest girl I had ever fucked. I loved pushing up inside her, licking her teenage clit, hoping to give her her first orgasm, wondering if she was was even old enough to have one....
Just as I was ruminating over these things, Stephanie eased me up so my face was back at hers. God, she was so young and I ached to be inside her. Looking at her for permission, I pressed the tip of my swollen cock against her wet pussy. She smiled in consent. At first, there was no give, and my earlier thoughts about not fitting into the adolescent cunt became irrational fears. This only lasted for a second, however, as my mushroom head was soon just inside of the young girl. She breathed in sharply, her eyes wide in surprise, putting to rest the virgin question. "It will only hurt for a moment," I said, continuing to advance into her. As I built up a subtle rhythm, moving deeper inside each time, she began to loosen up and move against me, finally allowing herself to enjoy the sensation.
"Just like that...damn, you're hot," I said, positioning a hand under the small of her back and pushing into her even harder. Now I was inside of her fully, my seven inch cock thrusting to down to the balls. Her young body pressed against mine with lithe legs wrapped around my midsection. She was so light, I loved getting deep inside of her, knowing I was the first one to be there. "Oh, Stephanie....that's it...."
Again and again, I thrusted hard into the young girl until I felt my orgasm swell hot inside of me, ready to burst, "I'm going to come! Here it comes..." I knew I should pull out, but she was so tight, and no one had ever come in this girl, "I want to come inside you!"
"mmmm" she said.
I took that as permission and pumped everything I had into her teenage body. Holding her tight against me, I felt my come flow directly into her, filling her up. "Stephanie, you feel so good!" When I was done, I pulled out slowly and saw my come leaking out of her. Fully spent, we curled up on the bed and fell asleep.
The next morning, we fucked the moment we woke up and, again, she let me come inside of her. I figured that was the end of it and I'd never get to have sex with the girl again, but, to my surprise, the following Friday, she showed up on my doorstep!
For a while, she had this routine, where she'd come to my house after school, we'd fuck, and then she'd go home. Sometimes, on the weekends, she would tell her parents that she was at her friend's house and we would stay in bed all evening. Although she was only fourteen, she was surprisingly adventurous. Part of her rebellious nature I supposed. All of it was fine with me, since I was a little on the wild side myself when it came to the bedroom.
The first hint I had that she was a bit kinky was when she was over on a school day. Here it was, three in the afternoon, and she was asking me to tie her up.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Yes." she said.
Apparently, she had heard all about it and wanted to see if she would like it.
So that day, I had her remove her clothing while I grabbed some ties from my closet. At first I had her tied rather loosely to the bed, one appendage to each corner, but then she asked me to tighten them up. I did so, and she asked me to tighten them again.
"I want to feel like I'm being pulled apart."
Hearing her say that got me rock hard and I pulled the ties as hard as I could until she yelped in pain. Her body was really stretched now and when I asked her if she could move at all, she said she couldn't. Red marks were already forming on all four limbs and when I moved on top of her, just that small amount of pressure made her call out.
"Wow," I said, "Are the ties so tight, that it hurts so bad just for me to lean against you a little?"
"Yes" she said, her eyes stinging. "They're really tight."
I started to get up. "I'll loosen them."
"No." she said, "I like it."
I breathed deeply and smiled. Though I would have never admitted this to anyone, seeing her in pain like that was turning me on immensely.
I ran my hands over her naked flesh, enjoying every curve and watched her wince when I exerted even the slightest pressure on her. It was like having someone on the rack, and I wished there was a way to pull at her even harder. Then, I realized there was, and I pushed my now rock-hard dick inside of her causing her to move with each heavy thrust.
"Ow!" she screeched, and then "Yes!"
I slammed into her as hard as I could, "Am I hurting you, baby?"
My face was cheek to cheek with hers and I could feel tears streaming down, "Yes. Ow, fuck! You're really hurting me."
"Oh, God! I'm going to come." I reached under her with one hand and pulled her up toward me sharply causing her arms to bend backward painfully.
"AHHHHHHhhhhhhh!" Her scream ripped through the room as I came deep inside of her, shooting load after load, deep into her anguished body. I loved it!
Afterward, I untied her, and asked if she liked it. Her arms and legs were red around the wrists and ankles and I knew she would be sore for days. Her eyes were swollen from crying. Still, she said, "Yeah, it was wild."
The next thing she wanted to try was screwing in public. This one I said no to, my reasoning being that I am thirty-five and she was only fourteen. If we got caught, it wasn't just going to be an embarrassing laugh-off with the cops, I was going to go to jail for the rape of a minor.
But she wasn't hearing it, and when I put up my objections, she said, "Hey, you got to tie me up. I want to do this and we're going to do it. Today."
The look in her eyes told me there was no room for arguments.
"Where do you want to go?" I asked her.
As if feeling charitable, she said, "You pick." and then, "But there should be people around."
Great. So, my mission, as I understood it, was to fuck an eighth grader in front of a bunch of people without getting arrested. No problemo.
I ended up having her wear a skirt with no panties and we hopped on a bus that was only about half full. Fortunately, most of the buses in Silicon Valley are amazingly well maintained and air conditioned so they're actually quite comfortable. We sat toward the back and didn't attract much attention. After a few blocks, she sat on my lap looking as innocent as possible. We got a couple glances, but she managed to look playful enough that people just thought she was horsing around and not up to anything untoward.
Stephanie was wearing her long raven-black hair in pony tails and her top was a white fitted tee. I was dressed casually in loose Adidas shorts and matching shirt.
As discretely as I could, I moved my hand down between my legs and up under her skirt. She lifted slightly to accommodate me and I had to admit this was really starting to turn me on. As we rode down toward San Jose, I slipped a finger into her tight cunt. She let out a little moan, causing a couple people to turn their heads, but only momentarily. I added another finger and gave her a good finger fucking as we moved down the road. She was facing front with her back toward me and hopping down on my fingers with each bump in the road. Meanwhile, her hands gripped the seat in front of her. Just the sight of this petite, naughty, child wiggling her ass over me was enough to send my mind into space.
When I couldn't stand it any longer, I pushed the front of my shorts down to expose my hardon which, thankfully was hidden from public view by Stephanie's skirt. In one, impressive, fluid motion, Stephanie reversed her position and was now facing me. This made entry much easier, but also left no questions about the nature of our relationship to anyone who might be looking. Still, as my now naked cock brushed up against her pussy under her skirt I was beginning to care less and less.
As these thoughts went through my mind, she leaned in and kissed me, causing and older woman a few rows back to gasp. I put my hands around Stephanie's girlish hips and guided her on to me. God, she felt good. I had already put some lube on before getting on the bus, so she slid on to me easily and was now moving up and down nicely. I'm sure a few people could tell what we were doing, but we were -technically- clothed. In any event, she felt so damn hot on my cock, I really didn't care. Instead, I just let my head lean back against the seat and kept my hands on her hips as I moved her sweet body up and down my shaft. Toward the end, I even allowed myself to lean into her and briefly bite her nipple through her t-shirt. Stephanie looked way to young to be fucking and I knew we had to stop soon, so I concentrated on feeling as good as possible and getting us both off. She was in heaven as well and moaning out loud at times.
Finally, she pushed up to me and lifted her t-shirt just over the nipple and this time let me suck her bare tit, which I did, right there on the bus. Just as I began sucking on her, my balls cried for release...I grunted, "Steph, I'm going to come. Oh God..."
She moved up and down in quicker motion..."Come inside me, baby."
"Here it comes.... Oh yeahhhhh..... God." Just then, I let loose inside of her and and she collapsed against me.
She rested her head against my chest, still straddling my lap, and said, "That was wonderful."
I said, "We better get out of here. Quick."
You would think this would be enough excitement, especially for a girl who was still in junior high, but no. She wanted more. And, if I'm being honest, so did I. So, next time, instead of using my old ties, when I restrained her, we used rope. It burned against her more and I could tie it tighter. She looked so sexy bound up in rope, fully restrained and held to whichever objects I chose that day. One afternoon, she came over for a visit and I wanted to try something new. I had hooks in the ceiling of my garage that I used to hang my mountain bikes.
"What if I tie you up and hang you by the arms and legs to those?" I asked her.
She wasn't sure, which I took as a good sign. It meant we were pushing boundaries. The way I tied her up was she was facing toward the garage floor and was spread in a narrow x position. Each limb was tied to a separate bike hook in the garage ceiling so her body was forced to hang downward. When I pushed her from the side, she started swinging like a human hammock.
"This is kinda fun." she said.
I said, "Wait a little while, until the ropes start to dig in. You'll get tired of hanging."
Stephanie was hung low enough that I could enter her from behind and literally swing her back and forth on my cock. When I tired of that, I could walk around to face her and, still swinging her, have her give me a blow job. The first time I fucked her that evening, I came so hard, I thought my balls would explode. Afterward, she was still hanging and my cum was seeping from her cunt and dripping on to the garage floor. I stood looking at it, mesmerized.
Knocking me out of my trance, Stephanie said, "Are you going to take me down?"
I thought about it. "No," I said, "I want to fuck you again."
She looked at me questioningly.
I explained, "Later tonight. But why bring you down, just to have to tie you back up again?"
Stephanie squirmed against the ropes trying to get comfortable. Her wrists and ankles were raw with rope burn already and her neck was aching from trying to hold her head up. Finally, she simply hung her head down, but the rest of her body remained in increasing amounts of pain.
"Tim, this is really starting to hurt."
That evening was the first time I fucked her in the ass. She had been suspended for many hours and had actually passed out. I had to revive her. Once she was alert, I lubed her up and positioned myself behind her.
First, I pushed my index finger into her tight sphincter and she let out a tight protest, "Ouch!"
"Shh," I said, as I moved my finger in and out of her, readying her for my dick.
"Oh, shit," she said, clearly becoming aware of what was next.
When I was ready, I pushed the mushroom head of my cock inside of her virgin ass.
"AHHHHHHHH!" she cried! "Stop!"
Using the swing motion, made possible by her being suspended by rope to the garage ceiling, I put one hand on my penis and one on her and rocked her back and forth, pushing her on to me just a but further with each motion. She screamed the entire time, never stopping to take a breath. I never heard anything like it. Stephanie didn't tell me stop, or say my name, or even cry. She just screamed.... ahhhhhhhh and owwwwww, the whole time, and she rocked back and forth.
Standing between her legs, I had my hands on her hips and I was swinging her on me. Each time I watched her get just a little closer to my balls as the adolescent cried out in pain, really sounding like the young girl she was. Finally, my balls touched against her tight ass cheeks. At that point, I was fully inside, and for a moment I simply gazed at her. She was wailing too much to appreciate it, but it really was incredible. Not able to hold back any more, I went at her with renewed vigor and crashed into her as hard as I could, over and over. She surprised me by yelling even louder and each scream brought be blissfully closer to my next orgasm.
"Oh God, Stephanie," I said with each hard thrust into her, "You are so hot!"
"Damn," I said, laughing. "I want to fuck you so hard I crack you in half like a goddamn wishbone, girl!"
I leaned over her back and grabbed her black hair, using it to pull her head back. "That's it, slam on me, girl. Make me come!"
Holding her hair with both hands I was able to pull her head back enough to see her eyes and was now able to see that she actually was crying beneath her screams. Just a few more thrusts, pulling her on me as hard as I could and I was desperate for release. I came into that girl harder than I thought I could. "Oh yeah..... oh yeahhhh...."
Finally, I let her go and she completely passed out from exhaustion.
I didn't see Stephanie for three weeks after that day and I thought perhaps she was finished with me. Figuring our fun was over, I set my mind to finishing a work project and getting ready for some travel. Then, late one night, as I was putting together some materials for a meeting, she rang my doorbell.
"Long time, no see," I said.
"Can I come in?"
Before I could answer, she was inside. I closed the door behind her. She was dressed in her usual costume of gloom. Deliberately ripped black stockings, designed to look trashy, but which probably cost fifty dollars at Nordstrom, black miniskirt adorned with creepy, smiling white skulls, and a midnight wife-beater which simply said, FUCK. She wore more eyeliner and make-up than an Indian bride on her wedding day.
I grabbed a Coke from the fridge and pointed it in her direction. She waved it off. I popped it open and took a sip. "So... Not that I'm not glad to see you, Steph, but it's eleven-thirty at night. Anything particular bring you by this evening?"
She was sitting on the couch, her platform shoes discarded on the floor and her petite, smooth legs tucked beneath her.
"I ran away."
She threw me that look, which I had learned was teen-speak for, "The answer is obvious -dolt. Think."
"From home," I said, answering my own question. "Why?"
"You know why. My dad's a dick."
"All dad's are dicks at your ag-"
Before I could finish my thought, she hopped off the couch and said, "What you're on his side now?"
"Um.. no, I..."
"What?! You don't even like him!"
"Look, I -"
"What? You don't know shit!"
"Steph, if you just calm down a sec-"
"He did this!" she said, thrusting her bare arm at me. I inspected the bruise. Although it was probably not the most appropriate reaction, my first thought was if he ever noticed the rope burns and other injuries she picked up here during our sexual adventures. As if reading my mind, she said, "He thought all my other marks were from sports, so take it easy. Besides, like I've been trying to get through to you, he doesn't give a shit. The only reason he even did this was because I got in the middle of one of his go-arounds with mom."
"I'm so out of there," she seethed.
"Where are you off to?" I asked.
She gave me a look that caused my stomach to drop. "I was hoping I could stay here."
"Stephanie, I haven't even heard from you in weeks. I thought we were done."
"I was grounded."
"You just told me your dad doesn't give a shit. Why would you be grounded?"
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and then said, "I wasn't grounded. I was a little freaked, OK? You like things.... you know."
I raised my eyebrows.
"And you don't now?"
"No, it's not that," she said quickly, "It was just, well, really extreme. But that's what you like, right?"
I said, "Right."
She moved closer, "Well, you can do that stuff to me. You know... if you want. I'm cool with it."
She smelled wonderful and I could feel myself weakening.
"We can't do this," I said, taking a deep breath to sober up from the intoxicating effect she had on me. "Your parents will have an alert out on you tomorrow, if not tonight."
"They won't," she said with confidence. "This isn't the first time I ran away, and the last time, I was gone for two weeks and they never even called the cops. They're just used to it now."
I nodded, considering this. "But won't they at least check around the neighborhood? Who knows you might be here?
"No one. And, no, they won't even ask Tommy or Bethany. At least last time they didn't. Instead, my father went to a stupid convention and my mother went with Ben somewhere."
Stephanie looked at me as if I was crazy. "Ben." Still no response from me. "My brother Ben!"
"Oh." I said, my eyes widening a bit. "I didn't know his name."
"Damn, you've lived here since he was born."
I ran my hand gently down the back of her head, over her smooth raven hair to the small of her back and pulled her close to me. Stephanie stepped in and placed her arms around my waist, looking up, meeting my gaze. The moment I kissed her, I knew that I had to let her stay over for at least that evening. Her lips were full and sweet with a hint of berry. My hands roamed down to cup her ass and she ground up against my quickly responding cock.
That night, we didn't do anything crazy. I think we were both too preoccupied. Stephanie fell asleep soon after we had rather vanilla sex in my bed and I went into my office to finish my email. The curtains were open and I glanced out my window catching a view of Stephanie's house. Her father was in his driveway, washing his car and gibbering away on his cellphone. I cracked my window a bit, wondering if he was reporting Stephanie missing. He wasn't. Instead, he was yelling at some poor bastard on the other end of the line about tickets that had been screwed up and isle seats that had become middles.
Something dark stirred in me. My eyes fixed on him and for a moment I was motionless, barely able to breathe. The lights shone brightly on him as he circled his car, highlighting the absurdity of washing it at midnight. He was unaware of me, lost in his own world as I was lost in mine, although, of course, my world possessed one of his moons. My heart was beating audibly. I could feel it pressing and I put my right hand over it noticing for the first time that my palm was sweating. I broke my gaze and shook my head. Surely these thoughts were not thriving within me. And yet, the passion in that moment was palpable. I was a man driven by opportunity.
Stephanie, completely unaware, lay down the hall in my bed. What an interesting child. Why had she come here? Adventure? Rebellion? Hatred toward her father? Toward men? All of it I supposed. Did I hate her? No. No, I did not. But I did want to possess her. Even as I thought about it, my pulse quickened to the point that I worried about having a full blown panic attack. Remembering meditation I learned at a corporate retreat, I breathed in deeply, counted to three and breathed out through my mouth.
By the time I fell into bed, curling up beside my young lover, I had made my decision.
The next morning I wrote a quick note to my boss letting him know I had some family business come up and I'd be taking a couple weeks off. I figured that was the quickest way to clear my schedule and provide lots of quality time with Stephanie.
Over breakfast, we discussed her next move. I was wondering if she would be expected at school, however, apparently, this was one area that Fucktard-Steve had under control. Figuring his daughter had run away and would be back in a week or so when she cooled off, he called her school and told them the same lie I had just told my boss: family business. Wondering how she could know this, she showed me her iPhone and explained that each student has a log on for her own account and hers showed her as out for the week. Progress and private schooling.
Of course, I couldn't take Stephanie away anywhere. Flying or anything requiring tickets and identification was clearly out of the question, and even driving carried some risk. So, we would be staying at home. At least for the time being. My secret plan still whispered in the back of my mind.
For the first few days, we played home-bound vacationers and did nothing but eat junk food, watch movies and fuck. No wild games or wacky stuff, just good ol' fashioned goofing off. It was actually kind of relaxing and I felt a bit like a kid again. Still, after three days of acting like a teenager, I was growing restless and was in the mood for some hot sex.
And so, for the next three nights, we lived our every passion.
The first night she let me choke her until she passed out. She enjoyed it and said that it made her have her first real orgasm. Feeling her body under me, her neck in my hands, it was so hard to hold back. It took all of my will power not to go all of the way, but I was able to stop myself and it was an interesting evening.
The second night was a bit more bizarre. She showed me a scar on her arm. I had seen it before. It was a straight line about an inch long on her upper forearm. She told me that when she was twelve, she went through a cutting phase. I had no idea what that was and she explained that received some sort of release by cutting herself. This is not something I could imagine doing to myself, but it seemed like something that would fit her Emo repertoire perfectly.
She produced an Exacto knife and said that she wanted me to cut her. I raised my eyebrows.
"But I want to be choked out for it," she said. "Do it after we have sex and you choke me out and then carve something into me. Like your initials or a heart. Surprise me."
What surprised me was the amount of blood that is released when you cut someone's skin with a razor. Damn. I ended up making a few cuts on her chest. I knew this was going to piss her off, since she had wanted the arm, but she looked so sexy passed out and her breasts were so perfect. The idea of giving them just a but of imperfection was irresistible. So, while she was passed out, I began tracing around first the left nipple. The amount of blood was staggering and so bright it looked fake, like something straight out of a grade-b horror movie. Just moments after I began cutting her and the blood was flowing down her wondrous breasts, she began to wake up, so I choked her out again. I had to do this two times to get all of the marks I wanted, but she looked stunning by the time I was done.
Looking at the finished product, I found myself getting hard again. Stephanie was still unconscious and her body was bloody on my floor from all of the cutting. Before I bandaged her up, I fucked her right there on the floor, using her own blood as lubricant. It was probably the best sex I had had with her yet. It was almost a shame she wasn't awake to enjoy it.
Needless to say, the next day she was furious and she even threatened to go home. I was able to talk her down, however, explaining that lots of people have decorative scars and I even showed her some websites. I promised her she'd like it all when it healed.
At this point, I was really wondering what else was left to do to her body. I had used it up pretty good over the short time that I had known her. With some sadness, I realized that I had done almost everything to her that I wanted to.
That evening we were in the kitchen having dinner.
"I want to take you right here," I said.
She smiled. "Okay."
My kitchen was remodeled a year ago and I have granite floors and matching granite counter tops, creating a soothing effect. In the middle of the room is a center island, also smooth granite and that's where I put Stephanie. I decided to tie her down on her back so she was facing up at me. By this time, we had played so many sex games that she pretty much just went with whatever I wanted to do with her. This was convenient for what I had in mind for this particular evening, but was also indicative of why this could never be a long term arrangement. The spark, so bright at first, was fading with her continued submission.
Still...... she looked sweet tied down to my table. Such a small thing. It was times like this when her youth really struck me. Sometimes, when she was being particularly naughty or playful in bed, it was easy to think of her as somewhat adult. Perhaps eighteen or even older. But at times like this, when she was naked, trembling and apprehensive, and wearing no makeup, she didn't look a day over fourteen. And of course, she wasn't.
"Let's do a bit of everything tonight, Stephanie," I said.
"Okay..." she said.
I walked around her in a full three-sixty, running my fingers over her skin. "We have the ropes, already of course," I said. "Let's see if we can make them a little tighter." I pulled the ropes taught and fixed better knots until she was in sufficient agony. I wanted her hurting enough to be crying, but not enough to actually pass out.
It's funny, thinking of this now. This story makes it sound like I was calm and in control. I wasn't. I was nervous beyond measure. My heart was pounding and my mouth was dry. Truth be told, although I was talking, I could barely speak. Second by second, I was about to stop the whole thing. But, of course, I couldn't. It was too late now for any of that. She had been in my house for days and had been my lover for weeks. I had abused and raped the girl regardless of what level of so-called consent she had given.
Beside all of this, there was the fantasy in my mind that had run like a tape on a loop since I was a boy. If I just do it this once, I thought to myself, I'll have done it. My fantasy, I reasoned, is driven by the not knowing. A burning curiosity over what it would be like to cross a threshold woven by our basic sense of humanity. Out loud, my voice was rational, confident, cruel, sexy, manly. Inside, I was scared, nervous, but more than any of it, I was pleading. Bargaining with my inner demons. At the risk of sounding dramatic, I just wanted it to be over. Even as I relished this moment and felt the hotness of my arousal, I looked toward the end, a dying of a fantasy that set me apart from others.
I grabbed the Exacto knife. "I'm going to cut you again."
"Wait!" Stephanie said, "We already did that and I don't even know what the scars are going to look like. Let's skip this one."
I wasn't listening and I put the knife against her abdomen.
"STOP!" she cried, trying to move against the ropes. But, of course, she was immobile.
Just over her ribcage, I made three cuts as she cried out in pain. Then, to help in lubrication, I repeated the process on her inner thighs. Stephanie's chest was heaving now and she was crying hysterically.
"Tim... why, are you .....doing .....this?" She asked between sobs. "To.....me?"
I got on top of the table and made just a couple more cuts to get her good and wet. Many people do not realize that shallow cuts actually bleed much more profusely than deep ones, so just these small Exacto slices were enough to get her young body nice and slick. Rubbing her blood on my dick, I entered her and we began to fuck. My hands slid against the wet table. The ropes were crimson. Everything was.... The table. The floor. Us. It seemed that we were all bathed in her blood as I moved in and out of her.
"Oh God, fuck me Stephanie."
Her gray-blue eyes looked directly into mine, "Tim, please. Let's just stop. We can stop."
I ran my hand through her hair brushing it off her face, leaving a rose colored trail in its wake.
I was completely with her now. Deep inside her. My eyes so close to hers our lashes practically brushed against each other. Each of her shallow breaths both hit me on the mouth and registered on my chest as her supple breasts rose and fell.
"Stephanie," I said, "I'm going to kill you here tonight."
Her eyes welled up, "No.... please. I'm only fourteen."
"I want to do it while I'm inside you."
"I have a family, a life... please let me live!"
I moved my hands around her throat and began to squeeze, "You've done this before, baby."
I squeezed her neck harder, my hands slipping a bit from her blood. Even as I bared down on her I was moving inside her, trying to get one last fuck.
Her eyes began to bulge and her tongue was swelling outside her mouth. If I'm being honest, it wasn't as sexy as they tell you it is in snuff or as quick as they imply in the movies, but it was more incredible than any of it! Her whole body shook. And her eyes! They fixed on me and they were the first to go. That was where I watched her die as I came inside her.
"Oh Fuck, Oh Fuck Oh Fuck," I said, as I looked deep into her turning-lifeless eyes. My come was moving into her body even as it shook in its last gasp for life. Fluid, and then, matter even less attractive exited her body, but I was too lost in the moment to care. All I could see were those eyes. They never left me. Even after she was gone, they just fixed forward and slowly grayed over.
A few days later, after I had cleaned my kitchen and driven Stephanie's body somewhere safe in the woods around Half Moon Bay, I ran into Steve. He was washing his car.
"Hey!" I called out. "How are you?"
"I'm good!" Fucktard-Steve said, waving a waxing-rag. "Never better. Kim took the boy to a party so I've got the day off. Ha!"
I smiled. "Good for you. Got to know how to live right?"
"You said it," Fucktard-Steve said.
Six months later, I started having those same fantasies again.....