Chapter 4
Mike slept badly, when he slept at all that night. In the morning he was in a foul mood, almost as if he had a hangover. Christ, he thought, it isn't fair-all those little men with mallets sitting inside my head and pounding on it, for the teeny weeny bit I had to drink!
He shook his head, trying to clear it, wondering drowsily what it was that worried him so. He remembered Kirst, then, and groaned. Something was going to give, and soon, he thought. Unless he could do something about it-and he couldn't think of what to do, short of throwing her out, or getting out himself. And he couldn't very well just send the girl away. How the hell would he explain that to Sally?
Sally?
Damn, wasn't he supposed to have called her, the night before? Or was she to have called him? He couldn't remember; he was certain, though, that they had planned to talk to one another by phone. And he was just as certain that they hadn't.
Or maybe he'd forgotten everything that had happened the night before-maybe he'd wanted to. Maybe he'd screwed that little bitch Kirst, the way she'd begged him to, and couldn't even remember it. He could be suffering from amnesia, couldn't he?
Yes, he told himself. He could be. But it wasn't very likely. So he'd better try to get in touch with Sally now and then get to his office-and on the double.
He dressed and showered and went downstairs to make coffee before Kirst got up. He found that she'd set the table for his breakfast and even prepared it for him, the night before. There was a tall glass of orange juice in the refrigerator. The coffee was measured out into the percolator, which was set on the kitchen counter, just waiting to be plugged in. There was even a scrawled note that said, "Good Morning!"
Mike crumpled it up and threw it across the room. Then, while the coffee perked, he put a call through to Mona Bitt's house, hoping Sally was still there, and that she hadn't left yet for the hospital.
The ringing on the other end seemed interminable; Mike was almost ready to hang up when a breathless Sally answered. She'd been on her way out, she said, just closing the front door, when she'd heard the telephone, and had rushed back in to answer. Mona? Pretty bad, Sally admitted, but not so bad as they'd thought. A fractured hip, a sprained shoulder, and various cuts and bruises. But the x-rays had shown no internal injuries, thank God.
"Will you be back soon?" Mike asked, seizing at a straw. She had to go. then. Mona was expecting her; besides, she wanted a chance to talk to the doctor. "I'll call you tonight, darling," she finished.
He went back to his breakfast, and was just finishing when Kirst came downstairs. She was wearing hot pants today, brief little shorts that barely covered the jiggling little cheeks of her enticingly rounded bottom, that stretched tight across them, clinging to Kirst like the skin of a peach clinging to the fruit inside. God, Mike thought, she probably has to strip them off with a potato peeler. She sat down, and the pants caught in the little cleft of, her pussy, obscenely outlining the thin narrow slit there. Above the pants, she wore a bright, tailored blouse, open almost to her navel, flapping wide to expose her lewdly tilted little breasts.
Mike took a gulp of coffee and choked on it. In a fit of coughing he wiped his mouth and rose from the table. "See you later, Kirst," he said, waving in a vain attempt to be cheerful. "Have a good day."
His own day was miserable. A sale he'd been counting on for weeks fell through; his most important client failed to show. To make matters worse, Sue, his secretary, was in a lousy mood, too. It had something to do with a fight she'd had with her boyfriend; Mike, though, never found out what the fight was about. Still, Sue was in a lousy mood, and slammed the typewriter carriage home hard at the end of each line, until Mike thought he would go mad. And, of course, he kept thinking of Kirst, all dressed up in that tight little pants outfit of hers, and every time he did, he felt his prick lurch and his balls begin to ache. He worried about Sally too, and wished he could reach her, somehow, without alarming her. But he didn't know how to do that, so he sat at his desk, squirming and stewing; finally, when Sue began to shoot puzzled looks at him, he got up, slammed the desk drawers shut with a loud bang, and headed for the golf course.
His game was way off, and when he got tired of whacking at the ball and missing, he packed up his clubs and headed for the bar. He nursed a couple of martinis, trying to decide what to do. He'd have to go home sometime, he knew, and he knew that when he got there, Kirst would be waiting for him, ready and willing to "play house" as she put it. Still, he realized at last, he could ward off temptation, at least for a while, by taking Kirst out to dinner. He'd be less inclined to rape her if there were others watching.
From the bar he called the house. "Hi, Kirst!" he greeted her, "Why don't you slip into your best bib and tucker, and I'll take you out for dinner?"
Kirst's answer was a delighted squeal, and a promise to be ready "when you get here, Mike."
She wasn't though. When Mike parked the convertible in the front of the house, Kirst was still lying by the pool in a bikini so small it reminded him of nothing more than a band-aid with a couple of beauty patches in strategic places. "Hey," he said, "I thought I told you to get some clothes on."
Kirst stood up, letting the straps of her bikini halter slide off her shoulder seductively. "I'm wearing clothes," she said with a pout.
"Yeah? Well, I've seen topless waitresses better dressed than you!" Mike announced. "Now go and get dressed!" He gave her a swift swat on her rounded bottom, and Kirst squealed again, then hurried off upstairs.
She came down a few minutes later, in another mini-mini, and another wide open blouse. "Better?" she asked.
"Not much," Mike said. He went over to her and began to button her blouse. Kirst moved closer to him, grinding her hot little cunt up against him, and Mike felt a stirring inside his shorts again, and admitted to himself that Kirst had excited him once more. Here we go again, he thought to himself. Then, for the hundredth time that day he reminded himself that this was a child ... "A child, Mike, for God's sake. Someone still in kindergarten, practically." And then, again, for the hundredth time, he asked himself, "What the hell are you, man? Some kind of pervert?"
The thought disgusted him, and with a brutal shove he pushed Kirst away from him! "Come on," he said. "Dinner time." Without another word, he turned and led her to the car.
On the drive to his and Sally's favorite Chinese restaurant-The Pearl Lake-and why the hell did he have to choose that place?-he ignored Kirst, ignored her scintillating smile, her incessant chatter, even her sly little body brushes. Once there, he brusquely ordered her out of the car and into the restaurant; suddenly the thought flashed across his mind that everyone in the place-Ed Tom, who ran it, and every waiter and busboy and dishwasher, even, would be talking about his turning up with this young blonde.
Well, it was too late to turn back. Mike guided Kirst into the restaurant ahead of him, stopping to introduce her pointedly to Ed as "our au pair girl from Denmark," to explain Sally's absence, and to assure Ed that the three of them would be in, together, the following week.
Mike ate his dinner in silence, aware that everyone was looking at him, although Kirst chattered on and on. He was aware, too, that he was drinking too much. A couple of martinis to begin with, a bottle of wine, which he grudgingly shared with Kirst, and a brandy to finish things off. He felt a little unsteady when he called for the check, a little elated when, outside, the fresh air blew across his sun-burned face. He'd get Kirst home, have another drink here himself, then turn in. And maybe Sally would be back the next morning. He might even put in a call to her, he thought. Yes, he definitely would.
Sally was still on his mind when he and Kirst reached the house. He unlocked the door, followed Kirst into the hall, then went into the living room, hoping the girl would go upstairs. He'd just poured himself another brandy when he heard her, purring like a kitten beside him, her sweet warm breath on his neck sending little shivers of excitement crawling through him. "Me, too?" she asked.
Mike shook his head. "No!"
"Yes!"
"No!" Kirst crossed the room, found another snifter, and brazenly poured a drink for herself. She held the glass cupped in her two hands, peering over the rim of it, wide-eyed as a small child with a glass of milk. "What are you thinking, Mike?" she asked. He set his own glass down on the coffee table and leaned forward, staring still again at the long slim legs, the ripely firm thighs, the hard little nipples standing up and peering through her loosely-woven blouse.
"Yes?" Kirst raised her eyebrows, still peering at the older man over the glass. "Tell me," she teased.
Mike shook his head.
"Please." The voice was husky, seductive.
Mike picked up his drink and drained it. He set the glass on the coffee table again, then moistened a finger and ran it around the rim. The glass whined, sending shivers up his spine. Still Kirst looked at him over the rim of her own glass, a mocked, amused gleam lighting her face. "Please?" The voice was as sultry as before.
Suddenly Mike was on his feet. In two steps he crossed the room and snatched the glass from Kirst's slim, small hand, throwing it against the fireplace. Brutally, he clutched her young shoulder with his strong hand, his nails clawing into her soft white flesh. As easily as if she were a cotton mop, he pulled her to her feet, holding her at arm's length.
"What are you thinking, Mike?" she whispered, smiling mockingly.
"You know damn well what I'm thinking, you teasing little bitch," Mike snarled through heavily clenched teeth.
Kirst laughed again, lowering her sparkling green eyes to stare at the obvious bulge in the front of his pants. Mike could feel his face turn scarlet, and for a moment, he hated the snide little bitch, still laughing at him, still leading him on. Christ, he thought, I've got to have her. And then Kirst pressed her full lips to his, her tongue flicking out in a long wet kiss. Her hand inched down his trousers, found his rigid cock beneath them, stroked it sensuously, lewdly. With a quick gesture, she unzipped his fly, inserting her hand into the opening to take the thick, fleshy member in her hand, trailing a long fingernail across the sensitive underside of it until Mike gasped.
"Shall we?" she whispered.
"Oh, my God! What is it you want?"
"You," Kirst said. "Do you want me?"
"God, yes!" For the last time the vileness of what he was about to do, the sheer and utter depravity of it, flashed across Mike's mind. He gritted his teeth. God, if anyone had done something like this to his young daughter, Jean, he would have killed him. Well, maybe someone would kill him, but Jesus, it would be worth it.
He began to unbutton the filmy blouse, tearing at the fabric in his lust and passion. His hand slipped beneath it, cupping the snowy mound of her round white breast, squeezing it, massaging it, teasing and coaxing the small buttons of the nipples until they stiffened into alert, alive buds. He bent his head and his tongue lashed out, to lave the erectly quivering mound, and then he fastened his teeth on it, as Kirst let out a stifled scream of mingled pain and pleasure.
With a quick gesture, he flung his head back, pushing Kirst away from him as he did so. "Not here," he said, his voice harsh and hoarse with uncontrolled lust.
"Where?" Kirst cooed, wriggling her hips provocatively, darting her moist red tongue out at Mike in a lewd, insolent gesture.
"Upstairs!" Mike hissed. Kirst turned and scampered across the room, the rounded moons of her buttocks swaying under the tight, short skirt. Mike, following close behind, caught her at the top of the steps, pulled her back towards him, grinding his aching, raging penis into the crevice between her firm young young ass cheeks. "Oh, God!" he moaned. "I can't wait. Come on!"
"Where?" Kirst asked again, almost breathlessly this time as a wild excitement flowed through her body.
Mike grasped her by the wrist and pulled her to the bedroom he and Sally shared. "Here," he gasped. "Here!"
He closed the door behind them, and by the shard of moonlight that pierced the darkness, bathing the room in an eerie, yellow-tinted light, he led her to the king-sized bed against the wall on the other side. Kirst licked her soft lips, parting them in anticipation as Mike lunged at her blouse again, stripped it from her tingling young body, and flung it to the floor. His hands cupped her breasts, kneading their soft, resilient flesh brutally until Kirst whimpered with pain.
"What's the matter?" Mike sneered. "You've been asking for this ever since you turned up here, you little bitch. And now, by God, I'm going to give it to you!"
"Give me what?" Kirst demanded, barely breathing the words.
"I'm going to screw you silly," Mike hissed. He ran his hands down over the soft, sensuous flesh of her quivering belly, touching her ripe, full thighs. His two hands slipped under the elastic band at the waist of her flimsy white little panties, and with a quick jerk, peeled them down, caressing the soft, smooth cheeks of her buttocks as he did.
Kirst stepped out of the soft little pile of her nylon panties at her feet, and moved back, so that the pale moonlight washed across her voluptuous young body. Mike sucked in his breath. Christ, even at fifteen, she was really already something! Sally had been beautiful, too, when he had first known her this way-and God damn it, she still was-but Kirst, as he'd thought when he first saw her, was a young goddess, a Venus de Milo with arms. Her soft, smooth skin was like alabaster, made whiter by contrast with the tangle of silken hair that crowned her exquisite little pussy mound. Her limbs were finely chiseled, as if by some master craftsman, one who had outdone himself as he sculpted them, then gone on to even greater perfection in shaping her lovely shoulders, her thighs, her hips. With all the perfection of marble, she was still flesh and blood, and now her firm, rounded little breasts rose in thrilled anticipation. This little prick-tease wants to get fucked! She really does. As much as I want to fuck her, Mike groaned hotly to himself.
He pushed the girl slightly, and she fell backwards onto the bed, her legs shooting out in an obscene spread open position as she did so, exposing the moist, tight slit of her pulsing pink young pussy to his fascinated eyes. While he hesitated, standing beside her, the girl seductively raised her hands to him-their very touch made his blood race, his cock stand up, as hard, as rigid, as an iron bar-and pulled him down beside her.
She mussed his hair with cool, sensuous fingers, murmuring something low in her throat as Mike quickly, clumsily shed his clothes. Oh, God, this is going to be a hot little fuck, he thought.
Kirst, her sensuous curved body stretched out on the bed, thought exactly the same thing. Oh, this is going to be good. She gasped in stunned admiration as Mike pulled his shorts down, as she saw the enormity of the long, thick cock that extended from his loins. It was so big! SO BIG! Bigger than any she'd ever seen. Why, her hand would barely go around it, she thought, and now she was going to take it all inside her, take the whole huge rigid rod in her tight little cuntal passage, suck it in deeper and deeper until it brushed against her cervix, speared into her trembling belly and sent her into searing spasms of ecstasy. Oh, it was going to be so good-doing this for the first time with a real man, and not with one of the boys like those she'd always done it with before. She let out a low moan and then began to murmur, "So good ... so good ... so good ... " in a sing-song voice, bending her head to whisper in Mike's ear, then catching his lobe between her even little white teeth, nibbling on it in much the same way as a small child nibbles on a cookie. She stopped just long enough to ask, "Like it?" before she took a swift, sharp bite.
"Like it! God, I love it," Mike moaned. He'd never seen anything like Kirst, never dreamed a fifteen year old kid like this could be so hot.
"You'll like this a lot more then," Kirst murmured, guiding his head down the length of her taut, tingling body to the softly curling little pelt topping her pubic mound. Squirming slightly, she opened her thighs wider, and eased Mike's head between them, until the pink, hair-lined slit of her almost baby-like little cunt was only a few inches from his lips. Mike tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry with his lust and passion, and he found it hard to breathe. ,He groaned, and placed his two hands on the moistly throbbing edges of her cunt, parting them like the soft coral petals of some exotic jungle flower. Mewling with pleasure at this new intimacy, this new assault upon her maddened, quivering flesh, the young blonde drew Mike's face forward further, then began to rotate her hips slowly and sensually around on the mattress, as his tongue flicked out, snake-like, and whipped its way into her hot, pulsating little vagina.
Little gasps of ecstasy escaped from deep in her throat, and she pushed her cunt forward, pressing it against Mike's face, while her little ass cheeks bounced in a jerking spasm against the bed. Her gasps turned into a low, guttural moan as his tongue slipped from the velvety sheath of her vagina walls to trace the long, thin line of the wet pulsing slit, licking teasingly the full length of it, and settling at last on the tight little bud of her clitoris. Back and forth his tongue went, in a mad flicking that coaxed the tender little button into a ruby hardness, moved again the length of her full fleshy lips, then on to the narrow furrow between her smooth young buttocks.
"Oooooooo! Oooooooooo, Mike!" Kirst purred, responding to the shivering excitement shooting through her teased, tantalized body. She tangled her hands tightly in his hair, pulling him closer to her, raising her crotch to him so that his face was buried deeper between her thighs. She began to groan out something now, words that seemed somehow familiar, yet which Mike could not fully understand because of her passion. Then, his mind went back to the movie he had seen with his wife and the girl in it who had looked so much like Kirst. He vaguely remembered that she had said the same thing, and it dawned on him that Kirst, like the girl in the movie, was begging him to fuck her.
He lifted his head from the clasping little opening of her vagina, pulling his tongue back from the moist, velvety channel. "Say it," he ordered brusquely. "Say it to me, Kirst."
"Oh, God! What do you want me to say?" she mumbled, her teeth clenched tightly together.
"You know, you little bitch."
"No, I don't. Really, I don't!" she panted heavier now.
"The hell you don't!" he snarled. "Say it. Say it good and loud, and say it in English."
Kirst pulled his head back up her body, crushing it against the snowy globes of her breasts. He was lying on top of her now, her legs open, and she drew a deep breath, hesitated a moment, and then, with a sudden, wild freedom she began to repeat, "Oh, Mike ... Fuck me ... Fuck me ... FUCK ME!"
Her slim white hand slid the length of his torso and closed around his rigid, aching cock. Her fingernails scratched lightly on the sensitive underside, and then she began to massage the fleshy shaft gently until he too groaned with tortured delight. She stopped long enough to cup his tender, silky balls in her cool, soft hands, then stroked again his thick, heavy cock. At last she guided it to the expectant, throbbing little mouth between her widespread legs, parting her soft golden pubic hair with the bloated head of the fleshy instrument, easing it between her hotly quivering cuntal lips.
She gasped as the long, rigid penis slid between the moist, narrow walls of her vaginal passage, then sank in deeper and deeper, probing up into the very depths of her warm, soft belly. Then suddenly, she seized Mike's hand, guided his fingers beneath her to the narrow valley between the cheeks of her smoothly rounded bottom, and towards the tiny little hole hidden there. My God! Was she asking ... ?
Kirst answered the unspoken question, whimpering, "Yes ... oh, yes, Mike. Please! Slip your finger up in it!"
An electric shock of excitement thrilled through Mike's body at the vile request, couched in such innocence. He reached under her, searching for the tiny, gently flexing hole, and found it at last, moistened already from the trickle of dampness seeping from her hot, wet cunt. He probed at it, then with a sudden swift movement wormed his finger in deep as the tight, elastic-like ring of flesh seemed to pop wide, opening to suck his finger in to the first knuckle.
Kirst let out a little scream, a whinny of pain that faded off into a sigh of contentment as Mike's finger slid in all the way to the palm of his hand, while his huge iron-stiff prick fucked in and out, in and out of her drenched and throbbing little pussy. She began to writhe lustfully beneath this double ravishment of her loins, mewling ecstatically as Mike's swollen cock invaded her moist, clasping cunt, as his finger fucked into the depths of her tightly clenching rectal passage. With wanton delight she chanted, "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," and Mike quickened his strokes, driving deeper and deeper into her quivering little belly, shooting crashing waves of searing, indescribable joy through her whole, nerve-tingling, desire-drenched body.
Again, Mike quickened his strokes, slaving above her, arching back, drawing his thick cock almost out of her hungrily sucking vagina, spearing in again until his heavy, sperm-bloated balls slapped heavily down against the widespread moons of her ass cheeks. As he thrust again, grinding hard and deep, he felt a sudden spurt of wet sticky fluid that flooded out from the tightly clinging walls of her hotly throbbing little passage, and then her obscene chant of "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," turned into a long, low wail. "Oooooooh! I'm cumming ... I'm cumming ... Oh, my God! I'M CUMMING!"
Mike felt the hot, white sperm in his bloated balls begin to boil and churn unbearably, building to a maddening explosive pressure, then shoot the full length of his aching, bulging prick, to squirt deep into the flooded, hot recesses of the young, fifteen year old blonde's desperately contracting little vagina. His testicles jerked wildly between his legs, emptying out the last of his sperm to mingle there with her own hot juices flowing warmly, gently down her pulsing inner thighs, as the girl's legs dropped lifelessly to the sides, to lie limp and open on the bed. Mike eased his now deflated penis from the narrow cum-drenched channel of her cunt, and rolled over beside her, all passion spent. Good God! He'd never known anything like this. Well, he thought, he'd fucked the hot-cunted little bitch, and he'd fucked her good. He'd given her just what she'd been asking for....
And she'd given him just what he wanted, too.
Maybe more, he thought with a sudden frightening shock, maybe more than he'd bargained for.