Chapter 5
Maxine didn't need much persuasion. She darned near had her fingers around it before he got his lips back on her tit and started sucking again. As soon as she felt the fat knob of his glans in her palm she slid her hand down the smooth shaft to the base. She felt the thick, wiry touch of his thick hairs on the back of her hand.
"Ungh!" he grunted, "That's the way to grab it. Hard enough for you, honey?"
She wanted him to use his mouth on her tits instead of talking so she gingerly slipped her hand up and down a few times and whispered in his ear. "If it's hard enough to bust out of your shorts like this," she said huskily, "it must be hard enough to fill up my pussy."
Joe felt her free hand busy on the fly of his shorts and knew his cock must have flopped out when she touched it. He switched his mouth to her other tit and caught a glance of her fingers working hot and heavy on his prick. Just before grasping the nipple in his hungry lips he egged her on. "Now you're doing me good,' he cried. "You're really giving me a good hand job now, honey. Keep it up and you're going to feel the head of it up your cunt pretty soon."
Maxine spread her legs as wide as they would go an shoved her wet mound higher toward his fingers. He obliged by working his forefinger deep into her hot, horny hole.
She felt his fingertip caress the satiny walls deep inside and gave a gasp. He touched his thumb to the sweet swell of one of her pussy lips and, withdrawing his finger from her vagina, began rubbing the moist morsel between them. He jerked his mouth from her tit and plastered his lips over hers. Her mouth was half parted already and she made no effort to close it. His tongue surged inside and licked her white teeth. She opened up wider and presented her red, hot little tongue for his pleasure. In the new position she could feel the masculine roughness of his curly chest hairs right against her swollen, damp-tipped tits.
"Ooooooh," she wailed.
"You need it, now," he gasped, "don't you, baby?"
She only continued to make a low, moaning noise and push her tits harder into his sweating chest.
"Put your hand on my balls," he said hoarsely.
That was something she'd never done before but she was so excited and was so hot, she was more than willing to do it. She didn't know men liked to have their balls stroked. She already had one hand busy on his prick so she raised the other and gently grasped his hanging sack.
She squeezed too hard and Joe said, "Easy, honey. You're going to have a wad of come on your hand instead of in your cunt if you aren't careful. Go gentle."
She obeyed and he shoved his tongue into her mouth. She met it and made little sucking motions with her tongue. The feel of his big balls inside his hairy sack was strangely exciting to her. She had only done it because he asked her to, but now she was enjoying it too. The knowledge that what she was holding contained the hot come he had for her sent shivers up her cunt. She wanted more than his fingers now.
She scooted up on the bed and brazenly placed the red end of his prick against the top of her thigh. A little more wriggling and she had the bullet-shaped organ tightly pressed to the tender junction at the bottom of her pussy lips. The excitement of feeling her cunt so close was irresistible to him. He removed his finger from her hole and pressed the weight of his cock to her.
She felt the wonderful fatness of it split her little lips apart and threw her legs around his. She dug her naked heels into the backs of his calves and rocked forward for more of his meat. "Uuuungh!" she cried.
"You're going to ... oh God, you're going to have a nice cunt full now, honey," he exclaimed.
"Go ahead," she urged, "give it to me. Gosh darn it, you've got me so hot I need fucking bad!"
He powered his prick in slowly but firmly and heard her groans increase with each inch he fed her. Jesus, but this gal's tight, he thought to himself. If I didn't know better I'd think she never had a man in her before. What a beautiful twat for a man to shoot the meat to!
Joe would have discovered the reason she was such a tight fit if he'd just have looked her over a little more closely. Her makeup, her big tits, and her sexy talk had convinced him she was far from being a kid. If he'd known at the moment that Maxine's cunt was so tight because it-like the rest of her pubescent body-was thirteen years old, he would have been scared so bad his cock would have got soft as a noodle in nothing flat.
She could no longer play like she was too shy to keep her eyes open now. She stared in glazed fascination as he pumped the rod to her and squeezed her tits tighter and tighter with each energetic push. She saw the sweat running down his face and suddenly realized her own heated body was every bit as wet as his. She looked down between them and watched with big eyes as the thick, stiff cock rammed in and out of her cunt. Seeing what went on down there in addition to feeling it was too much for her. She felt herself getting wet as a goose inside her pussy. The temperature soared in her hot little box and she knew the sharp, sweet feeling of getting her rocks off was very close. She buried her face on his shoulder and set the edges of her teeth on his collarbone. Biting him made her feel really stupid, but her cunt was so hot it was practically smoking and she just had to do it.
Instead of yelling for her to quit, Joe only groaned louder and crammed his stiff meat into her box harder and harder. "How's that sweet little cunt now?" he gasped.
"It's hot," she sighed, her young hips pumping. "It's so hot I'm about to ... oh my gosh I'm about-"
"About to get your jollies off?" he lecherously broke in. "That what you're about to do, honey?"
"Oh, yes!" she yelled, gritting her teeth and taking every inch she could get of his hard machine. "Gosh, yes, I am ... ooooh ... ooooooh ... oh, my gosh, you're fucking me good! Ungh .. . ungh ..."
Joe was so near to it himself he could hardly talk. Hearing dirty words from her sweet mouth brought him to the edge of his desire and he grabbed her by the cheeks of the ass and ploughed into her sweating, tight little cunt at double speed.
"Open up and let me have it, honey," he screamed. "Here comes a nice, hot load for you!"
He hit his climax and spewed a thick, milky stream far into the back of her famished pussy. A few more thrusts and he was done for, but Maxine came hot and wet as soon as he shot off. She grabbed him and whimpered low in her throat as she drove her cunt against him a few more times to get the last drop of sperm, then flopped her hands on the bed exhausted and satisfied.
The air conditioner was on in the hotel room and the sensation of its cool output on her hot, sweaty skin was wonderful. She lay still until she was dry, then reached over and placed her hand on his groin. He was still breathing hard. He covered her hand with his but made no further move. He was dog tired but highly gratified by the hot fuck she'd just given him.
After fifteen minutes or so, Maxine began to get horny again. Her little cunt started pulsing like it did sometimes at home just before she dropped off to sleep. She knew if he'd just finger her some, she'd be ready to take him on again. When he rolled onto his side and began nosing around her tits and armpit she thought maybe he was coming. But when she saw his cock stay soft as ever, she lost hope of having it inside her anymore that day.
Joe kissed her a few times and then said, "Lay still, honey. I'm going to go to the bathroom and get a nice, wet, warm towel for your pussy. You just stay there and I'll clean it off for you as slick as a whistle. Don't put your panties back on yet."
But as he got up, he accidentally knocked Maxine's purse off the chair. It spilled open and the first thing that came flying out was her school lunch ticket. He grabbed it up and looked at it hard, then his eyes darted back to her naked body all stretched out on the bed.
"Hennings Junior High School, it says here," he said. His eyes narrowed. "You got a little sister?"
A lump of fear rose in her throat.
"Oh, that little lunch ticket? That's-" she began. She had started to make up some story to explain its presence but he interrupted her before she got started.
"Wait a minute-it's got your name on it too ... Maxine, it says here," he continued.
She sat up in bed and pulled the sheet over her. It was reflex. She wasn't afraid of what he'd see, but what he might find out about her true age.
"Thirteen!" he cried. "This thing says you're thirteen years old! It can't be!"
He ripped the sheet away and stared. In the heat of her passion most of her makeup and mascara had melted and smudged till it was no longer effective. Suddenly he saw her in a new light.
"Jesus Christ," he bellowed. "You're jailbait, aren't you? You're fucking jailbait! Where the hell a girl your age got knockers that big I'll never know, but I'm sure as hell not sticking around to talk about it. What is this, anyway-blackmail? You gonna run tell the cops some old man took you to his hotel room and raped you?"
"No, listen, Joe," she said, "it's nothing like that, really. I... I just couldn't..."
He was already jumping into his clothes. "Never mind, honey," he told her. "I don't know what you're up to, but whatever it is, it won't work. Not with me. I'm flying out of here this very minute. Now get your clothes on. Make it fast, you little prick teaser come on!"
Five minutes later he had pushed her out the door, now fully dressed, and had jumped into the elevator at the opposite end of the hall. Maxine checked the clock in the lobby on her way out. She'd done pretty well. Her mom wouldn't be home for an hour yet. Plenty of time.
As soon as she got home she showered long and lavishly. She shampooed her hair and washed her pussy thoroughly. On a whim she used some shampoo on her pussy hairs. After toweling off she sneaked into her mom's dresser and located a container of feminine hygiene spray. She raised a naked foot to the vanity bench, placed the nozzle between her trim thighs, and shivered as the pleasantly cool fog covered her exposed hairs and pussy.
In bed that night she chastised herself. Darn it, she thought, if it hadn't been for that dumb lunch ticket I would have pulled the whole thing off. But at least I know I can pass for a lot older if I fix myself up just right.
At school the next day she had occasion to smile inwardly on several occasions when she saw girls in her class trying to get the attention of boys in the eighth or ninth grades. They could tease her all they wanted to about her big jugs-while they were doing their darnedest just to get a fourteen or fifteen-year-old boy to look at them, she had been with a grown man the night before. A man who thought her tits and legs were as pretty as a college girl's.
She experienced a tingling sensation in the warm crotch of her panties when she let her mind wander over the events of the past few days. It had been less than a week since she lost her cherry, yet she'd had three different guys on top of her. She looked around the school room again, coldly assessing the potential of the other girls. One or two might have tits big enough to attract a boy. But none, she thought, would interest a man like she'd been with. As for the boys, not a one of them would know what to do if a girl stepped out of her panties and lay down in front of him.
That night at the dinner table she had another run-through of the argument she consistently had with her mother.
"But Mom," she pleaded, "I'm almost the only girl in my class that has to wear a dumb bra. Why can't I go without mine like they do?"
Mildred was firm. "That, my darling daughter, is simply because the other girls don't happen to need one as bad as you do. You have to realize, Maxine, that you started developing earlier than most of your little friends. You got a head start on them, and it shows. You should be proud of your breasts, dear, and you should enjoy taking care of them the way a girl should."
"It's not my breasts I'm griping about," retorted Maxine, "it's this dumb harness I have to wear over them."
"You just wait," Mildred predicted. "I'm quite sure that when your classmates have as much need for a brassiere as you, their mothers will most certainly make them wear one. How many times do I have to tell you, now-it's very unladylike for a girl as big as you to go running around flopping all over the place."
That ended the subject. Almost.
"Okay then," grumbled Maxine. "But if I'm gonna have to keep wearing them then I need a couple of new ones. The ones I have now sure are getting tight."
"But I just got you a larger-sized set a couple of months ago," said her mother.
Maxine shrugged her shoulders, "all I know is they're too tight now. Jeez, Mom, they pinch like the dickens when I move around. Sometimes my nipples even-"
"You don't have to be so graphic, dear," said her mother, acid dripping from her tongue. Mildred didn't like to discuss such things any more than necessary. "I'll pick you up some through the office like I always do."
Mildred always got a big discount on clothes of all kinds at the clothing company she worked for. Next day she picked out some things-among them a few brassieres for Maxine-and put the sales slip on her boss' desk to be signed.
Mr. Blevins, a white-haired executive of sixty, signed the slip perfunctorily and slid it back toward Mildred. Then he looked up and peered at the slip again.
"These ... uh, under things, Mrs. Lester," he said hesitantly. "You better check the boxes they came in. This slip says they're all size thirty-four, C cup."
"That's right," she said. "They're for my daughter."
"Oh?" he said, removing his glasses and wiping them with a tissue. "But I thought you only had the one daughter ... the little girl I saw at the company Christmas party a couple of years ago. You have an older girl too?"
Mildred smiled. "No, Mr. Blevins," she said. "Maxine's my only daughter. You wouldn't quite call her a little girl anymore, though. She'd really be insulted if anyone said that within earshot of her. She's shooting up awfully fast now. You know how girls are at that age."
"Hmm ... yes," said Mr. Blevins.
Mildred took her new purchases home at quitting time and promptly forgot the conversation with Mr. Blevins. But he didn't forget it. Although Mildred would have been shocked to discover her employer's secret, Mr. Blevins was a man who had much more than a passing interest in girls. It wasn't that he was the type to chase his secretary around the desk at lunch time. If that had been the case, Mildred would have heard it through the office grapevine. Mr. Blevins had darker, more secret desires than that. His preference in females ran to very young girls.
The next day he called Mildred into his office and told her it was getting to be the time of year when the company needed to start shooting artwork and still shots for their annual catalog. He mentioned, as casually as possible, that he believed there might be an opening for a young lady about her daughter's age.
"What's her name again?" he inquired. He knew very well what it was. He had been running the name through his dirty mind the night before like a prayer. But he had to maintain a completely business-type facade to cover his real purposes.
Mildred told him her name and he said that if she was interested, Maxine could pick up a pretty good fee for just a few hours' work a week. Mildred was immediately interested. The family budget was always a little strapped.
"Of course she'd have to drop by the office and have a few test shots taken to make sure she's suitable," he added. "But she's in the right age bracket."
He almost made a big mistake.
"Oh, then I'm afraid she wouldn't work out," objected Mildred. "She's rather . . . well, more developed than most girls her age."
"Oh, size bracket, I meant to say," Mr. Blevins quickly said. "Heh heh . . . what a silly error. I meant to say your Maxine is in the right size bracket."
"Then I'll bring her by whenever you say," Mildred said. She was thankful he'd made a slip of the tongue. She had already seen the extra money flying out the window.
"Fine, fine," said Mr. Blevins. "You can bring her by on Friday afternoon. Oh, one thing more, Mrs. Lester. Your daughter isn't especially shy or introverted, is she? You see, a few of the panels we'll need her to model for are, uh . . . lingerie shots. Those pay somewhat more than the regular ensemble pictures, of course."
Mildred had visions of greenbacks streaming through her head. "Oh, no I don't think there'll be any problem with shyness. Why, she's .. . she's a regular little flirt, ha ha."
If Mildred had had any idea what the old lecher's intentions were, she would never have resorted so lightly to that particular exaggeration.
"Yes, yes," Mr. Blevins said, his cock swelling inside his pants. "Well, then, plan to drop her off Friday afternoon after she gets out of school. You'll be excused from your job early, of course, to go and get her."
"Drop her off?" repeated Mildred.
"Yes," said Mr. Blevins. "The photographers always insist that any relatives not remain with the models. Often makes them nervous. You know how it is."
Their little meeting ended with great expectations for both parties. Mildred went away imagining money rolling into the family till and Mr. Blevins went away imagining the succulent delights that awaited him inside the daughter's clothes. At least he could work it where he'd get to see what was underneath that size thirty-four C brassiere that Mildred had bought for the girl and undoubtedly what was underneath the girl's panties too, if he handled things right. He felt his shriveled old cock swell. Maybe, with any luck--no, he couldn't even let himself dwell on thoughts of getting to touch what was under there. But if 'there was any way in hell possible ...
Mildred had a date that night so she called Maxine and told her to fix dinner for herself.
Groovy, thought Maxine, hanging up the phone. I can always have more fun when mom's not around. She didn't want to risk dressing up and playing her little games with older men too many nights so close together, so she settled down for a long evening of TV watching. She dashed to the refrigerator. No cold drinks at all. She'd have to get some from the grocery. She picked them up and on the way back found herself getting sprinkled again by Mr. Jackson's lawn hose. He came running out.
"My goodness, honey," he exclaimed. "Did that damned thing spray you again? I'm terribly sorry." He reached over the white picket fence and started drying her off before she knew what was going on.
"Oh, that's okay," she said to him, "it wasn't much. You don't have to bother with-"
"Now now," he cautioned. "I wouldn't want you to get a cold over this damned thing."
His hands were already rubbing the towel all over her back and sides. He patted it over her bright blonde hair and then, without a pause, started rubbing her shoulders and the fully packed front of her blouse. If the way he was rubbing her had anything to do with how wet she was, she thought, then her tits must have been drenched. He certainly seemed to be doing a very thorough job on that part of her anatomy.
"Just a minute, Maxine," he said. "I couldn't let you go home with your dress all wet from my sprinkler."
But what she was feeling and thinking about was the way he was touching her. "No, really, Mr. Jackson," she protested. "It's okay. I just got a little on my blouse. I won't get a-"
"Please, now," he begged her. "I really should watch this thing much better than I do. If you came down sick from this I'd feel terrible. What would I tell your mother if-"
"But it's nothing, Mr. Jackson," she insisted. "All it did was-"
"You got some of your clothes very wet," he pointed out. "And it even looks like you got your underclothes damp. Just let me . . . dry you off some, here . . . there -isn't that better?"
Maxine didn't know what to say. He was sounding so nice but acting so bad. Practically every time he touched her it was directly on the plump tips of her tits. And the slightly moist condition of her skin made for a few feelings she wished she didn't have to confront.
She took a step backwards, raising her grocery sack in front of her to show him how much in a hurry she was. "Mom needs this stuff real fast," she lied to him. "She's cooking and waiting for this. I have to go. The water's okay, really. Thanks, Mr. Jackson," She turned and made a bee line for her house.
"Okay, honey," he called behind her, still standing where she'd left him on the sidewalk. "But get those clothes off when you get home and get into something dry."
Maxine got home and made herself some dinner, then flipped the TV set on. She glanced down at her damp blouse. It did feel kind of icky from the sprinkling. She might as well change into something, even though she had laughed about Mr. Jackson's suggestion on the way home.
She stretched her arms in the air and drew the thing off over her head. Its damp fabric stuck to the moist surface of her curves as it came off. First the flat firmness of her stomach came into view, with the dimple of her navel in the center. Then the white cups of her bra were revealed. The plump skin squeezed together above reminded her again of her need for the larger-sized bra Mom was supposed to bring her from work.
She grinned to herself in the mirror. It made her feel proud to see the smooth swells of her curvaceous body being revealed from underneath her clothes.
She tossed the damp blouse away and thought of Mr. Jackson's words to her. How come she'd never noticed how horny he was before, she wondered? He'd paid an awfully lot of attention to her every time she came past his house for the last couple of years, but it hadn't really dawned on her that he had a sexual thing going for her. It sure had been obvious a few minutes before.
He couldn't keep his hands off me, she thought to herself. And the way he kept talking about my wet blouse, I'll bet he was thinking what it'd be like to see it off She glanced sideways at the mirror again. She giggled to herself. He'd probably freak out if he ever had a chance to see her like this, she was convinced.
At Mr. Jackson's house, at that very moment, he was doing more than just think about her. That kid's gonna drive me nuts, he thought to himself, the way she walks by here all the time with those sweet knockers busting through her clothes. If her mom wasn't home right now, I'd call her up and at least get to hear that sexy little voice of hers for a few minutes. His penis was hard inside his pants just from thinking about her. He'd give it a try anyway.
When the phone at the Lester house rang, Maxine was still in the middle of changing her clothes. She reached for the phone, her brassiere unhooked and dangling off her shoulders, and heard a very businesslike voice ask for her mother. She said she wasn't home and asked if she could take a message for her.
The little bitch, Mr. Jackson thought to himself on the other end of the line. She was lying about her mom being home cooking and waiting for her. She must have known fucking well I was getting kicks out of feeling up those wet jugs of hers!
Now that he had her on the line he had to think fast. He told her since her mother wasn't home, he would speak to her-that he was calling about her anyway. He said he represented a movie studio that was looking for young talent. That did it. Maxine had long nursed a secret dream of being an actress some day. He said her name had been recommended for possible testing.
"Wow, really?" she asked. She couldn't believe it. She told him she loved acting but wondered where he'd got her name since she hadn't even been in the school play. He was vague but convincing, telling her his office maintained big files that included even those youngsters who did nothing more than try out for plays. She was hooked.
"If you don't mind answering a few personal questions about yourself, I'll jot down the information over the phone," he told her. He was glad that he'd talked enough to her-especially on the telephone-for her to be able to recognize his true identity as the lecher down the street.
"Sure!" she exclaimed. "Just a minute, though. You kind of caught me in the middle of something."
"Dinner?" asked Mr. Jackson.
"No, I was just changing my clothes if you want to know the truth!" she giggled.
"Don't let me disturb you, then," he answered, his brain charged with the picture of Maxine with half her clothes off and getting more naked by the minute. "Can't you just hold the phone and keep talking to me while you finish?"
"I ... I guess so," she innocently replied. A thrill ran down her backbone. Talking to a man while she took her clothes off made her feel nasty even though he couldn't see over the phone. But it was the kind Of nastiness she secretly craved. r