I groaned as I remembered those words, and suddenly ran to the living room. I blew air out through my lips. Thank God, the laptop I’d been browsing porn with the night before was still there, still closed. Yeah, that would’ve gotten awkward real fast if she’d busted me with pictures of girls her age all over my computer.
I ran my hand through my dark hair, catching my reflection in the hallway mirror. Yeah, I was getting older, but I was still in great shape, and I still had the smile that’d helped push the band into the spotlight. The “bad boy guitar player you’d just love to make some mistakes with,” I believe the cute Rolling Stone reporter had written in her expose piece about our second U.S. tour.
The cute reporter who I’d definitely fucked in the back of tour bus, I might add.
But that’d been a long time ago, before Rebecca and before I’d settled down. Before my hair was starting to get a little silver at the temples, I grumbled into the mirror.
I moved into the kitchen, and instantly felt the same throb of need in my cock as I glanced out the windows into the glassed-in pool in the backyard. Christina was still out there, only now she was strewn out across a lawn chair, her long supple body stretched out, her eyes closed, and the sun glistening off the water droplets cascaded across her perfect little body.
Jesus Christ, I needed to get a grip. I was forty years old, for fuck’s sake. I was old enough to be this girl’s damn father, and here I was lusting after her like a fucking creep.
It’s like staring at the sun.
And I couldn’t look away. I stood there at the island kitchen, sipping coffee and feeling my cock get harder and harder in my shorts as I let my eyes roam over the off-limits, barley legal girl lounging by my pool. I imagined slipping those tiny bikini bottoms off her body and letting my tongue trail up her thighs. I groaned as I imagined pushing my tongue deep into her teen pussy to taste that honey sweetness. I pictured her soft little mouth opening as she knelt at my feet, her innocent pink lips wrapping around my cock.
I imagined bending her over, holding her by the hips and slowly burying every inch of my cock inside that tight little pussy. I imagined taking her hard, and making her come like she’d never come before. And I imagined emptying every single drop of my cum inside her.
I growled to myself as I tore myself out of the fantasy, realizing I was standing there in the kitchen with my cock hard as stone in my shorts.
Just go back upstairs, get back to work, and forget that she’s even-
And that’s when I saw them. The clothes she’d changed out of were crumpled in a ball next to her purse on one of the kitchen table chairs. And right there, on the top, was a flash of pink.
Her panties.
They were in my hand before I even knew what the fuck I was doing, my pulse pounding like a damn diesel engine as I let my fingers slip over the tiny little pink thong. I brought them to my nose as I stared out the window at her, feeling my cock lurch as I inhaled the scent of her. And fuck did I want more. I wanted to bury my face in her pussy and inhale that scent, and taste it on my tongue.
And that’s the thinking that had me doing what I did.
Like I said, it was like staring at the sun, and I couldn’t look away if I fucking tried.
I was moving down the hall back towards my office in a second, dumping her clothes on the chair there in the hallway before I slipped into my office, her panties in my hand. My rock-hard cock was out in seconds, and I groaned as I wrapped my hand around it and started to stroke.
I closed my eyes, and it was her hand on my dick; her young, soft hand stroking my cock. It was wrong as hell to be thinking it, but that only fueled the fire. Because I knew how off-limits she was, and how fucking filthy it was to be imagining this tight little soon-to-be college girl that way. But the deeper I got into picturing her like that, the harder I got and the tighter my balls got.
I imagined taking her; claiming her and making her mine. I groaned as stroked my cock, imaging her climbing into my lap, straddling me, and sinking that impossibly tight little barely legal pussy down on my dick. I brought the thong away from my face and wrapped it around my trembling erection, growling at the way the soft little lacy cotton felt sliding over my cock. I could feel the cum boiling in my balls, could feel my muscles bunching as I raced towards the inevitable.
Oh, please fuck my little pussy, Mr. Weaver!
That’s all it took. Imagining sweet little innocent, barely legal Christina Ames begging for my cock send me right over the edge, and I groaned as the cum came rocketing out of my cock. I moaned and kept stroking, just picturing her cunt wrapped tight around my cock as I emptied my balls inside of her until I collapse back in the chair.
Holy shit.
It was only then that I glanced down and winced. Fuck. There was cum all over her fucking panties. Like, coating them. I swore to myself, when I suddenly heard a cellphone that definitely wasn’t mine go off loud in the kitchen down the hall.
I jolted from my chair, my heart racing. “Christina?”
The house was silent but for the pulse roaring in my ears. I swore again as I grabbed tissues from my desk and started to try and wipe the cum from her panties as I yanked my pants up. I stuck my head out the office door. “Christina?”
I heard the toilette flush in the bathroom by the kitchen flush, and I swore again as I madly wiped at the sticky jizz all over her panties.
Fuck, she won’t notice.
Right?
I was out of time though, and I grabbed her clothes - panties and all - and quickly brought them back to the chair they’d been on in the kitchen.
*****