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Introduction:

Taking home a passed out 18 year old girl...

TAKING BRITTANY HOME

”Daddy, can you come pick us up?”

“Hey, sweetie,” I spoke into my cell phone. Ashley, my eighteen-year-old daughter, sounded concerned.

“So soon? Who’s ‘us’”?

“Brittany and me. You know my friend, Brittany?”

“Yeah, sure. baby. You’re still at Melinda’s?”

“Yes, daddy. Can you come now?”

It was a Friday night in late March and I was trying to get my income tax material ready for my accountant, but my little girl needed me. “Of course, sweetie. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

“Thanks, daddy.”

I saved my work on the computer and grabbed my jacket and keys. Backing the Porsche 911 Carrera out of our suburban garage, I glanced at the clock on the dash. It was only 8:15 pm. I had dropped Ashley off at a party at Melinda’s house only forty-five minutes before. I was going to pick her up 11:00. I wondered what had happened. The party must have been a bummer.

As I drove toward Melinda’s, I thought about how important Ashley was to me, especially after her mother ran away with her boss a year ago and left us alone. If it wasn’t for Ashley, I don’t know how I would have coped.

Ashley had a good head on her shoulders. Very unlike her mother. She had her mother’s looks, though, which was certainly okay. I saw my ex-wife in every move my daughter made.

As I pulled up to Melinda’s house, I could see Ashley among a small group of other teenagers in the bright light on the front porch. She waved as she saw the Porsche pull into the driveway, and I then saw her turn and help someone up from one of the porch chairs. I watched as Ashley helped a girl down the steps of the porch, and then began leading her across the grass to my car. I leaned over and rolled the passenger window down as they came up to the car.

“What’s going on, babe?” I asked.

“Dad, you should have brought the Mercedes. I told you I had Brittany with me.”

“The Mercedes is in the shop, sweetie. One of you can squeeze in the back.” I then noticed that the other girl, Brittany, was wobbling precariously. As Ashley opened the passenger door, Brittany suddenly bent over and vomited. Shit, not on the car, I thought!

I watched as Ashley tended to her friend, patting her head as the girl finished tossing her cookies. I backed the car up a bit so that the girls wouldn’t have to step over the vomit, or in it, to get into my car.

“I’ll get in the back, Dad. We can’t put Brittany back there. Can you come around and hold her while I get in?”

I got out of the car and did as my daughter asked. Ashley, who was wearing jeans and a jacket, pulled the back of the front seat down and nimbly hopped into the back while I held her woozy friend. It was when I was searching for an appropriate part of the girls’ body to hold that I noticed that she wasn’t wearing much: a shoulder-less raspberry colored tube top with bare midriff, and a very short white mini-skirt. It was not the way a daughter of mine would have been allowed to dress in public.

“Doesn’t she have a jacket,” I asked of Ashley, who was settled in the tiny backseat of the 911. “It’s really cool out.”

“I don’t know, Dad. I asked her, but…I couldn’t get an answer, and nobody knew if she had one or not.”

Gently, I pushed the teenage girl into the passenger’s seat of the 911. Off balance, her butt plopped onto the seat, while her bare legs, like those of a young colt, stuck awkwardly out the car door, her skirt hiking up a very unladylike distance of thigh. With her now sitting beneath my eye level, I could also not help noticing that her tube top allowed a shocking amount of cleavage—shocking for a parent, certainly! She must have been wearing a push up bra, because there was no evidence of a bra on the upper portion of her ample young breasts, a good portion of which were bare for the world to see. Not exactly certain how to proceed, I bent over and lifted the girl’s feet—she was wearing a pair of moderately high heeled shoes—and maneuvered them into the car, bending her long legs at the knees in doing so. I then shut the door of the 911 and walked around to the driver’s side.

As I pulled the car into the street and drove away, Ashley, leaning forward in the backseat, proceeded to tell me what had happened while her friend slumped in the front passenger seat. The party at Melinda’s had quickly gotten out of hand because the girl’s parents weren’t at home. There were guys who had brought a lot of booze. “Honest, Dad, I didn’t know her parents weren’t going to be there.”

I looked at my daughter in the rearview mirror. “Did you have anything to drink?” I asked.

“Duh! I’m not a total dork, Daddy. I had a gin tonic. Just one, though. But Brittany, I don’t know how many she had. And this guy I know really well told me that some of the guys had roofies, and I think they might have given Brittany one, and I was scared for her, so I thought I’d better get her out of there.”

”What are roofies,” I asked.

“You don’t know roofies? Ruffles? Rochies? Date rape drugs, Dad.”

“Oh.” I learn things from my 18 year old daughter every day, but I was uncomfortable hearing the word “rape” come out of her mouth. “You did good, then, sweetie. That was the smart thing to do.”

“Well, she might have taken some, I don’t know. She seems pretty out of it.”

I then made some comment about how inappropriate Brittany’s clothes were for a girl her age. My daughter called me old fashioned. But I remembered a slumber party that Ashley had had a couple months before. She had four or five girls over for the night, and Brittany was one of them. Actually, I found out later that that was Brittany's eighteenth birthday. I recalled now how I had gone into the kitchen for something around midnight. I thought all the girls were in the basement, but I found Brittany getting water from the spigot on the refrigerator door. The kitchen was rather dark, but from what I could tell she was wearing nothing but a white t-shirt, and there was nothing “old fashion” about seeing the inappropriateness of that. Why, the shirt just barely covered her…her…crotch! And there definitely was no bra beneath that t-shirt!

Brittany had caught me as my eyes were making that judgment about her braless condition, and I’m sure my face reddened. There was a brief, embarrassing silence between us that she broke when she said: “Hi, Mr. Adams,” as she continued to draw water from the refrigerator door. The voice caught me off guard with its low pitch, which seemed very mature for such a young girl. “I’m Brittany”, she said.

“Hello, Brittany,” I managed to say, trying to regain a composure that had been momentarily thrown off balance by the—well, there was no other way to say it—the “sexiness” of this young girl. She had apparently just brushed her long, dark blonde hair, for it fairly shinned in what was just enough light in the dark kitchen.

She maintained eye contact with me even after she had filled her water glass and let go of the spigot, and I found that to be not only atypical of a teenage girl, but to be additionally disconcerting, as well. The fact that she did not take her eyes off mine could not prevent me from shooting an involuntary glance at what was really a remarkable pair of legs on display beneath that skimpy t-shirt. I became deeply embarrassed, and was certain that she not only was aware of my discomfort in her presence, but was rather amused by it, given the devilish little grin that seemed to play at the corner of her lips.

“I really like your car, Mr. Adams,” she then said, again breaking what had become an awkward silence. “You’ll have to give me a ride it in some day.”

She was flirting with me!

“Sure,” I said. “Anytime.”

I snapped out of my flashback recollection just as we approached our house. Ashley had been talking, but I’m afraid I hadn’t been listening. “Is Brittany going to spend the night with you?” I asked.

“Dad! I just told you. No. Can you take her home? I was talking to her before she got wasted, and she said she just HAS to be home tonight by eleven, or else her parents are going to ground her.”

“Sure. We can take her.”

”Dad, actually, well…Billy Powell is going to come by soon and pick me up. He’s leaving the party, too. We’re going to go to a movie. Okay, Dad? Can you take her home?” From the backseat, my daughter put her hands on my shoulders and massaged them as I drove. The little devil knew that her dad could not resist anything she asked when she rubbed his shoulders. “I’ll type her address into the GPS for you.” I hadn’t said yes yet. I didn’t have to. It was a done deal.

At our house, I got out of the car and Ashley squeezed out the driver’s side door, leaving Brittany undisturbed in the front passenger seat of the 911.

“Look,” I told Ashley, taking her by the arm. “This Billy character, he doesn’t have any of those…roofies, does he?”

My daughter laughed. “No, Dad. He’s the one who warned me about them.”

“Do you really think someone slipped her one of those things” I asked, motioning toward the passed out girl in the car.

“I don’t know, but she did have a lot to drink. And the more you drink, the worse that stuff is.”

As Ashley walked toward the house, I checked the GPS and saw that Brittany’s house was a full sixteen miles away, going out on the state route. I sighed, thinking the round trip would take over a half an hour. The things I do for my daughter! I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

It was at the first stop light that I glanced over to the unconscious teenage girl sitting in the front seat of my sports car. Actually, she was more laying than sitting, as Ashley, when she had been in the backseat, had reached forward and dropped the back of the front seat to a forty-five degree angle so that her friend would be more comfortable. My concern was that she would throw up again.

While at the stop light, my eyes couldn’t help but notice the expanse of thigh showing below the hem of the girl’s tight mini-skirt. How could parents let their daughter go out in public like this?

I looked up at the stop light. It was still red. Then, casually, my eyes traveled back to my passenger. She was softly illuminated by the glow of the streetlight that came through the 911’s moon roof. My eyes darted to those bare thighs again. This young lady certainly had nice legs, I thought. And then I felt ashamed of myself for having that thought. She’s just a KID, I told myself. Okay, she's eighteen, but just barely. Get your mind out of the gutter.

Thinking back, I recalled again that time that Brittany had had been to the sleep over, and how, well, very MATURE she had been for her age. It seemed that many of my daughter’s friends were really kids in the true sense: braces, bubble gum, giggling and obsessions with boy musical bands. Most of these girls were as sexy as fence posts. Brittany was certainly different, I had to admit. The way she dressed. And the way she had maintained eye contact with me that night! And the way she flirted with me! The experience had certainly made me stand a little straighter that night, suck in the gut a little tighter.

My gaze now was lingering on the girl’s thighs, mesmerized by the way her legs were slightly parted as she lay reclined in the passenger’s seat. At that moment the car behind me at the stoplight honked. How long had the light been green?!

I let out the clutch and took off, but soon came to a second red light. Stopping again, I could not resist the temptation of looking over again at the unconscious girl. I felt a twang of self-consciousness in doing this. A little voice told me I shouldn’t be looking at my own daughter’s friend this way. But…well…the way this girl was dressed made it pretty much impossible for a red blooded male to not take in a little eye candy, and it didn’t matter if she was so young! No harm in looking, in my book, so my eyes ignored the little voice and this time settled on the way the girl’s fully developed breasts filled her tight fitting raspberry tube top. Below the top, the bare skin of her flat tummy was bathed in the eerie light of another street lamp. My gaze then traveled back up to the twin mounds that were so enticingly encased in the stretchy material of her tight top. My gaze then continued on up to her bare shoulders over which cascaded long locks of dark blonde hair. They didn’t build sixteen year olds like this when I was sixteen, I thought wistfully.

I have no idea how long I must have been staring at her before once again a car behind me honked impatiently. Was it the same car that had honked at the first stop light? As I sped away from the traffic light, I felt something. It was a bulge that had grown in my pants, straining against the confines of my boxer shorts and jeans. Easy boy, I said to myself. Easy!

I now turned onto the state route and got up to speed. As I did so, I checked my seatbelt, and it occurred to me at that moment that I had never fastened a seatbelt around my young passenger. I tried for a few moments to reach over and pull the belt around her while traveling at speed, but then thought better of it and decided to pull to a stop on the shoulder of the road to do so. With the car at a stop and the emergency brake set, I reached over and pulled her seatbelt from its harness above and behind the passenger-side door. I pulled the belt over the girl’s body and fastened its clasp in place. The interior of the car was dark, as there were no street lights where I stopped. Only the lights of the car’s dashboard provided what little illumination there was, and it just enough for me to notice the particularly enticing way that the shoulder strap of the seatbelt fell in between the girl’s twin breasts. Something about that image caught me off guard and virtually paralyzed me. Oh, what a lovely sight she was! What a sleeping beauty! I suddenly wondered if those marvelous tits on this sixteen year old girl were real or implants. Ashley had told me before that some of her friends had been talking about implants, but I never heard that any of them had actually done it. What parent would allow their teenager to get them? What doctor would do it?

Sighing, I sat back in my own seat, grasped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead through the windshield and into the darkness. I shut my eyes, took a deep breath and listened to the steady purr of the Porsche’s idling engine. The bulge in my pants was becoming painful. I reached into my pants and pulled my cock into a straight position inside the boxers to provide it with some space to grow if it was intent on doing so.

Joe, I told myself, let’s go. Put the car in gear and let’s go. Please. Instead, I turned my head and looked yet again in the direction of my passenger. Not only that, I turned on the dome light so that I could see her better. Were they real, or false? Oh, but to find out! She was so close to me, yet so far!

There was that little voice again. It was saying something like, well, if this were Ashley, and some man were bringing her home, that man was correct in stopping to put a seat belt around her, but then, that man would continue driving. A correct man would continue driving now, Joe!

I ignored the little voice. “Brittany?” I called her name softly. When she didn’t respond, I repeated her name in a louder voice. Nothing. Tentatively, I touched her bare shoulder. I let my hand linger there, and then shook her gently. There was no doubt that she was completely passed out. I thought of what Ashley had said about the—what had she called them?—whatever, the date rape drug. Had this girl in fact ingested something like that? If so, from the little I had read about these types of drugs, the victim remains passed out for hours.

My hand on her shoulder began to tremble. No one would ever know if I just…if my hand just…if I just let my hand on her shoulder…drift…downward. To find out if they were real or not. No one would ever know. The girl would never know. No one would. It would just be my little secret. My own dirty little secret. And it would feel so GOOD!

Take her home! the little voice demanded.

My little finger was the first part of my hand to reach the tube top as the hand roamed downward from the girl’s shoulder. When my other four fingers arrived, the five of them cupped the girl’s breast—the one closest to me—through the soft, stretchy material of the tube top. It was one of the most exciting experiences I had ever had. Her well developed tit was firm yet soft and squeezable, and stood upright, probably not requiring the tiny, lacey bra that I could feel was delicately holding them beneath the tube top. I was thrilled by the discovery that she was all natural! There was no silicon inside these babies!

While feeling her tit, I noticed for the first time a delicate, gold necklace that adorned her lovely, slender neck. My eyes then traveled to her expensive looking ear rings that dangled from her lobes. What a classy young lady, I thought.

Feeling confident that the girl was indeed unconscious, I became bolder, and sent my hand underneath the tube top, where the skin of my fingers touched the skin of her ripe young breast. This electrified me. The bra was one of those little numbers that only holds the breasts’ bottom hemispheres while permitting the upper hemispheres to remain bare while being uplifted into cleavage. The bra just barely covered the girl’s nipple, and it was an easy matter for me to push the delicate undergarment downward just a hair and allow the nipple to pop out unencumbered, where it became pinched between my eager fingers.

At that moment a semi truck sped past our car, shaking it. I decided that I needed to park in a better spot. Panting from excitement, I withdrew my hand from the teenage girl’s breast, put the Porsche in gear and drove forward, and had not gone too far until I found a construction site beside the road where some earth moving equipment had been parked for the night. The area offered a wide expanse of gravel where I was able to pull the car a good thirty feet off the road.

I turned the engine off this time and turned impatiently toward my slumbering teenage passenger. With the dome light on again, I noticed appreciatively how most of her left breast had remained exposed, as I had already pushed the tube top down a few inches. Her delicate nipple was peeking out above the pushed down, frilly lace bra. If I was going to get cold feet about this terrible thing that I was doing, those feet were quickly warmed by the sight of that naked breast.

I twisted my body in the driver’s seat to better face the sleeping girl. The first thing I did was to undo the seat belt that I had not long ago put around her. I wanted free access to those breasts, and the seat belt was definitely in the way.

With both hands I urgently pushed the girl’s tube top downward, completely exposing both breasts, with the bra covering only the right one. The gold necklace that graced her neck sparkled softly in the dome light. Excitement had my heart thundering within my chest. I paused only a moment and then, with hands trembling, reached for that portion of the skimpy bra that still covered the right tit and likewise pushed it downward, out of the way. My teen angel’s full, ripe breasts were now exposed in all their glory as she remained lying there, reclined at a forty-fie degree angle in the passenger seat, unconscious, unaware that she her young, hard body was providing viewing pleasure for a horny, middle aged man who was supposed to be taking her home.

It was my left arm that reached across my body toward her, and my left hand that now came into contact with the soft, warm flesh of this beautiful eighteen year-old’s remarkable young breasts. I massaged them thoroughly, alternating between soft and aggressive, and could feel the breasts’ nipples harden as I did so.

Meanwhile, my right hand had taken the girl’s chin and lifted her face upward so that I could see it in the glow of the dome light as I fondled her bared breasts with my left hand. She was certainly a very pretty girl. Except that her hair was lighter, she looked a little like a very young Angelina Jolie, complete with the pouty looking lips. I played briefly with her delicate ear ring, and tugged lightly on the ear lobe which it adorned.

I bent over to kiss those lips, but with the console between the bucket seats, the confines of the interior of the 911 severely restricted my movement and allowed me to get my lips only to barely touch hers. But I was able to feel her warm breath on my face, and as I fondled her tits I thought that my penis was going to explode.

Damn it but the tight interior of the Porsche 911 was so constraining! I wished I HAD brought the Mercedes. I could have pulled this hot little honey into the back seat of that car and had much more room to play with her!

I stroked the girl’s long, dark blonde hair, feeling its silkiness as the strands flowed through my fingers. My fingers of the right hand then began to trace the features of the young lady’s face: her cheeks, her nose, her full, luscious lips. A finger parted her lips and entered her mouth, feeling the warm wetness of her tongue while my other hand kneaded and molded her tits. My cock, which I had the foresight to set in a straight position, now fairly throbbed, its hardness complete.

Any little inner voice was now totally banished to the deepest recesses of my brain, and my left hand now departed from the young lady’s fantastic breasts and traveled downward. It passed over the lump that was the tube top and bra bunched around her abdomen, and then lingered when it reached the arm, bare skin of her flat tummy. There, the tip of my forefinger toyed with her belly button. As I did this, I carefully watched the girl’s pretty face, illuminated by the Porsche’s dome light, searching for any sign of her coming to. What the hell would I do if my daughter’s friend did come awake at this moment and found herself half naked in this car with an adult man’s hands all over her?! I shuddered to think of the possible consequences. At the same time, the very illicitness of what I was doing was proving to be a powerful turn-on in its own right. I knew that what I was doing was wrong, wrong, wrong, but it felt so very good!

I was helpless against the spell that this beautiful, sexy teenager was having on me, and therefore had no control over my hand as it now continued to roam her hard body, moving downward. Again I told myself that this was okay because no one would ever know. No one! So the hand kept moving, and soon felt the top of the tight miniskirt. Pressing against the girl’s body, the hand moved sideways, feeling the curvaceous swell of the hips of this woman-child.

Eagerly now, and impatiently, my hand went to the girl’s bare thigh, her left thigh, the one closest to me. I massaged this wonderful, warm flesh, so silky smooth and soft yet, when squeezed, so firm and toned. Then my roving hand traveled up the thigh, passing beneath the hem of the tight miniskirt and after just a few more tantalizing, heavenly inches came to the warm, panty-clad juncture of the young girl’s two beautiful legs. I pressed my hand firmly against her sex as my eyes traveled back and forth between her bared breasts and the peaceful expression on her pretty face as illuminated by the soft rays from the dome light.

Eagerly my fingers sought access into one of the leg openings of the lacy panties. The actions of my arm and hands under the miniskirt had hiked the tiny skirt all the way up to the point where I could see my hand as my fingers disappeared inside the girl’s panties. My middle finger quickly found the lips of her girlhood and, with no hesitation, sunk its inside up to the first knuckle.

There I paused to study the girl’s face, looking for any sign of consciousness. There was none. She was sleeping peacefully, her eyes closed, her mouth slightly open, and my finger was inside her sweet, young pussy!

I then introduced a second finger into her warm, moist interior, also up to the first knuckle. Then, with my other hand—the right hand—I slowly inserted two fingers into her slightly parted mouth where I felt the same warmth and wetness that the fingers of my left hand were experiencing. Mad with lust, I thrust the two fingers of my left hand deeper into the teen’s warm vagina. I was now inside her up to the second knuckles, and felt no resistance to indicate that she was a virgin. Pushing inward even further, I convinced myself that there was no hymen. Unless there had been some kind of bicycle or horseback riding incident in her past, my fingers were apparently not the first intruding object to explore this particular piece of real estate.

With excitement grabbing at my throat and making my heart pound, I began to eagerly finger fuck the teen beauty. As my left hand had its way with her young cunt, the fingers of my right hand were fucking her mouth, the tips of my fingers feeling the warm, wet softness of her tongue and the hard, equally moist surface of the roof of her mouth. I became insane with lust, and quickly was overcome with the wild desire to fuck this 18-year-old hottie with something other than my fingers. My god! I was contemplating RAPE! I had never in my life even thought about raping a woman. What was coming over me? Come on, Joe, enough of this madness I scolded myself. You’ve gotten enough. You’ve gotten your fingers wet. Take this girl home and then go home and masturbate smelling her on your fingers!

But I was helplessly under the terrible influence of my swollen cock which, painfully constrained by my pants, was wanting this girl in no uncertain terms. Yes! Rape her! Right here! But how!? There was no room to maneuver inside the compact interior of the Porsche 911. I could recline her seat even more and try to climb on top of her, but I didn’t suppose I could get her legs far enough apart so that she could be fucked. My mind raced desperately as my hands continued to violate her pussy and mouth, respectively. Damn it! It was too cold outside to lay the girl on the ground beside the car, plus it seemed that raindrops had started to fall and, anyway, I didn’t have a blanket or anything. Crap, why did the Mercedes have to be in the garage!? There would have been plenty of room to fuck this girl in the backseat of that sedan! But then it occurred to me that I didn’t have any condoms on me anyway. I couldn’t fuck this little honey without a condom! Even in my present state of raging lust, I knew that I could not run the risk of impregnating her. Two and two would be put together very quickly if she turned up pregnant, and by deduction I would be a suspect and then, with DNA testing, confirmed as the father. Big jail time!

Okay, I told myself with resignation, this was going to have to be it. Some sort of a dry hump was going to have to be good enough. Life sucks sometimes. As I removed my hand from the girl’s mouth and fumbled for the zipper of my pants to expose my cock for masturbation, I was already picturing what I was going to do. I was going to cum on my fingers and then put them back in the girl’s mouth to get as much of my cum into her mouth as I could! The idea of that made my boner ever harder.

With my left hand reaching across my body, vigorously finger fucking the 18-year-old’s pussy, my right hand was now stroking my throbbing cock , I began to rock the Porsche 911.

It was at that moment that I was aware of the police car lights that had come on behind the Porsche!

I cursed madly, and quickly yanked my fingers from the girl’s pussy. I pulled the hem of her miniskirt down as far as I could and then pulled the tube top upward to cover her tits. I saw in the outside rearview mirror that a police officer was walking toward me. I had my penis back inside my pants by the time I rolled the window down as the officer came up to the door.

“Is everything okay?” The voice of the police officer surprised me. It was a female officer.

Thinking quickly, I responded, “Yes, officer, I just pulled over to reset my GPS. I wanted to get well off the road to do it.”

I could see the policewoman bend slightly to look beyond me and to the passenger in the other seat. I suddenly wondered if the officer had been able to see what I was doing? How visible had I been from the outside with the car’s doom light on? The windows were slightly fogged, so I don’t think she could have seen too much.

“Is she okay?” the officer asked, nodding toward my passenger.

“Yeah.” I tried to sound casual. “She’s just really tired.” My mind was racing as to whether I should identify to the officer who my passenger was. I didn’t feel comfortable telling the truth, that she was a friend of my daughter that I was taking home because she was passed out drunk. Something told me not to lie, though, so I said nothing and hoped the officer wouldn’t ask. But I really began to freak out. Was there any smell of alcohol inside the car from the girl's breath? What about the smell of pussy? I was aware of a considerable amount of pussy juice on my fingers.

“Can I see your license, registration and proof of insurance, please?”

“Of course.” My hands shook as I reached for the glove box to retrieve the documents. Because I was doing something I should not have been doing, I was feeling guilty and extremely nervous. Was the officer noticing this? RELAX! I told myself. Take a deep breath and fucking RELAX!

I willed my hands to not shake as I handed the documents to the lady officer.

“I’ll be right back,” she said.

She went back to her squad car and was obviously running my stats through the computer. Damn, why did I have to pull off here at this spot!? Although I knew there was nothing to worry about concerning my paperwork, this was really freaking me out. I was taking this as an omen to quit this madness I had initiated, and if I was lucky enough to get out of here without this police officer discovering that I had been sexually molesting this girl, I vowed to take the girl home immediately and deliver her to her parents as I should have done all along without pulling over at this fucking construction site!

Soon the officer walked back to the Porsche. Rain drops had started to fall. “Here you go,” she said, handing back my documents. “There’ve been reports of thefts at this construction site,” she continued. “We’ve been asked to keep an eye on it. I’m going to have to ask you to move along.”

“Of course, officer.” I rolled the window up, turned on the engine and carefully pulled away. A huge sigh of relief escaped my lungs as I got up to speed.

A few minutes later the rain was hard enough that I had to turn the wipers on. As I drove, I was almost afraid to look over at my passenger, but at last did so. It was dark, but I could see enough to once again marvel at just how hot she was, especially that now, those breasts outlined beneath her tight tube top were now totally braless, her bra having remained around her midsection to where I had pushed it. The sudden appearance of that female police officer had really killed my boner, but the sight of Brittany was bringing it back. Oh, I knew now that there was nothing else I could do with her except, well, before getting her home, I would have to stop and get her bra back in place beneath her top. I’d have to check her panties, too. I had stretched one of the leg openings pretty far. I hoped I hadn’t torn the damn thing. It had seemed so dainty.

It was then that I realized that the Porsche was nearly out of gas. I looked at the GPS and saw that we were still some eight miles from the girl’s house. I needed to stop for gas before then. That’s where I would get around to making sure that the girl’s undergarments were in place.

Three miles passed until I saw the lights for a gas station between the moving wiper blades. I pulled in. The gas pumps were underneath an overhanging roof, which was good, given the rain. At the pump, I read in irritation a hand written note informing that the pay-at-the-pump option was broken. I pulled the hose from the pump and began filling the tank. Setting the hose on automatic, I stepped to the passenger door of the 911 and opened it. My eyes were greeted by that pair of very nice legs sticking out from that very short skirt, and an instant surge of gratification struck me at having recently finger fucked the pussy that lay at the juncture of those hot thighs.

I squatted by the open door, then hesitated. Where did I begin? I would have to reach underneath her top and push her bra back up in place but, well, while having a lot of experience in taking off women’s bras, I had no experience in putting them back on! I first had to pull the girl’s top down to find the bra. In doing this, of course, her lovely bare breasts spilled forth. For an instant this visage paralyzed me. I looked around me furtively. There was an abundance of lighting by the gas pumps, and anyone watching could clearly see what I was doing. Fortunately there was no one else pumping gas at that moment, but what about surveillance cameras? Maybe there was a pimply teenage boy inside at the cash register gawking at what I was doing?

Fuck it, I thought, and proceeded in my task. To my relief, the clasp of the bra had not come loose behind her back and it was a simple matter of tugging the frilly thing upward until it once again cupped the bottoms of her fine twin mounds. Wistfully I then pulled the top back up and smoothed it into place as best I could. I then reached underneath her short skirt to check on the condition of her panties, and found that they had not really been moved out of position. Pausing, and again looking around me like a criminal, I succumbed to the urge to quickly once again penetrate the sleeping girl’s vagina, this time with the fingers of my right hand. My middle finger eased inside one the panties’ leg openings and sought the entrance to this high school senior's femininity. I thrust the finger deep inside her and held it there. I then leaned over her and kissed her slightly parted lips, and slipped my tongue between them as my middle finger reamed her cunt. After a full minute of this, with great effort I pulled free from her, bringing my tongue and finger out from the respective bodily cavities of this eighteen year-old honey. Breathing hard, I thought again of the shock wave of fear that had run through me when the lights of that police car had gone on, and reminded myself that I needed to cease my errant ways and simply take this girl home! Enough of this madness already!

I shut the passenger door before the inside of the car got any colder, and went back to the gas pump. It had automatically shut off for some reason after only pumping five gallons, so I squeezed the handle and manually began pumping more. As I stood there while the gas flowed, I looked around my surroundings again, trying to clear my head, trying to forget my passionate lust for this to-die-for young hottie in my car. What I needed was a very cold shower. I thought—only half seriously—that I should stand in the rain for a while. As my eyes aimlessly roamed while I waited for the tank to fill, I vaguely noticed one of those old, mom and pop motels across the road. It had an “old school” neon sign that must have been as old as the motel—fifty years, I would have guessed. I noticed that the “L” in motel on the old, red neon light was missing, so that it read “Mote”.

The handle on the gas pump flipped off automatically, indicating that the tank was full. I then proceeded into the gas station office to pay. As I walked toward the door, I noticed that this was one of those older stations, one that was actually a bit seedy. I really had had no need to worry about surveillance cameras. This was not a principal highway we were on. If it had been, surely this station, and the mom and pop flea trap across the street, would have been torn down long ago and replaced by a fucking Mini-Mart Pump-N-Shop and an Econo-Lodge, respectively.

After paying—the clerk on duty was not a pimply faced teen, but rather a forty year old loser who probably had once been a pimply faced teen—I realized I should probably take a leak. In the dirty bathroom, at the urinal, my eyes looked around the room in disgust as I pissed. Why didn’t that lazy bastard clerk get off his ass and come in here and clean this filth once in a while?

My eyes did a double take on the condom machine. You sure don’t see those anymore in the Mini-Mart gas stations, I thought.

After pissing, I walked to the sink and washed my hands before remembering that I wanted to leave the girl's fragrance on my fingers so I could smell them while masturbating when I got home. Damn it! At that moment, a trio of images began reverberating around the inside of my skull like pin balls: 1) unconscious girl; 2) condoms; 3) motel across the street.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. After looking into my own eyes for a long moment, my head swiveled on my neck to the condom machine. Only four quarters for a bright colored, ribbed condom guaranteed, as stated on the front of the machine, to “give her pleasure”. I happened to have those quarters in my pocket.

The image of the mom and pop motel danced in my head, as did the vision of that marvelous pair of firm, young thighs that was at that very moment still gracing the passenger seat of my Porsche 911.

Unconscious girl. Condoms. Motel.

I glanced at my watch. It was 9:20. The girl didn’t have to be home for another hour and forty minutes. Staring again at my reflection in the mirror, another image came into focus: flashing cop lights. Remember how freaked you were, Joe, when that cop came sniffing around? Remember that?

Arguing with the face in the mirror again, there were two lines of thought that weighed predominate: no one will ever know, and you only live once. End of argument.

A minute later I was back behind the wheel of the Porsche 911, crossing the highway, and pulling up to the office of the mom and pop motel. The motel consisted of a single row building with the doors of perhaps twenty rooms facing the parking lot. There were only three or four cars in front of various doors, so I didn’t figure that reservations would exactly be necessary. The Porsche, though, would definitely look out of place here, I thought as I stepped out of the car and entered the motel office, which was at the near end of the long building. The rain had mostly stopped, with only a few sprinkles still coming down.

Mom and Pop operation was right. Pop was behind the reception desk. I could hear the TV in a back room where I supposed Mom was hanging out. I asked Pop for a room at the far end of the building. I wanted to be as far away as possible when I carried a body into the room. Plus, I had noticed that the outside lighting toward the far end of the building was darker. It was $38, payable in advance. I wished I had had enough cash in my pocket for the payment, but did not, and had to use a credit card. What, was I concerned about the traceability of a credit card?

The age old adage about a man not having enough blood to run his brain and his penis at the same time is so true. As I sat once again behind the wheel of the Carrera 911 and stared through the windshield at the dark motel room door to which I had driven, the blood going to the brain was sufficient for that little voice again to tell me that this was NOT a good idea, to bail out before taking this any further. What if the girl came to inside the room? How would I explain that? However, there was more blood going to the penis at this moment, especially after I cast another ravenous glance at that incredible pair of thighs that awaited me if I really wanted them. My penis said yes to those thighs, and to rest of the little sexpot high school senior that slumbered in the seat of my car. I reached over and touched those thighs. Yes! Most definitely a fantastic idea! She was not going to wake up. Anyone as drugged as she was going to be out for hours. I certainly wasn’t going to waste this once in a lifetime opportunity for a forty-one year old man to fuck a hot teen honey! Hell no!

I got out of the car and went to the door of the motel room where I fumbled with the key in the door. No newfangled magnetic strip key cards for this joint! The door creaked open and I entered the room and flicked on the light. There was a stale smell to the room, to be generous, and the carpet was well worn. I hadn’t been in a hotel room this bad since my backpacking days out of college. I immediately went over to the bed and pulled the bedspread and blanket off, and carefully examined the white sheets. They looked clean enough. What, was I going to abort this mission if I had found a pubic hair? I certainly wasn’t going to abort because I didn’t like the tacky still life painting over the bed or the fact that the TV had rabbit ears.

The room was rather chilly so I turned the heater on. It was one of those noisy things under the front window to the parking lot. I waited for a few seconds, leaning over the contraption, until I could feel air coming out of it that was warmer than the air in the room, and knew that it was a functioning unit.

It was time to bring my “date” into the room. I walked outside, leaving the door to the room ajar. My girl was waiting for me in the passenger seat of the 911 just I had left her, a veritable sleeping beauty waiting to be carried to our love nest.

I opened the car door and, bending over, reached in and undid the girl’s seat belt. I then scooped her up in my arms. She must have weighed about 115 pounds, and I had to exert myself, being careful to keep my back straight as they instruct in those health care videos. I certainly didn’t want to throw my back out at this point!

Shutting the door to the Porsche with my foot, I then proceeded to carry someone’s teenage daughter into a sleazy motel room with the intent of raping her. As I passed through the doorway with her in my arms, feeling like a cheetah who had just captured an unfortunate prey and was now dragging that prey to safe ground in order to consume it at leisure, I wondered if this girl had a father like me, who would rip a man’s penis off and shove it down his mouth if I ever caught the man doing to my daughter what I was about to do to his. No, I figured, he probably was not like me, or else he would never have let his daughter leave the house dressed like a little slut!

Still holding the girl in my arms, I kicked the motel room door shut with my foot and carried her to the bed, where I lay her down gently on her back upon the white sheets. One of her high heel shoes had fallen to the floor before I got her to the bed.

I actually felt a pang of guilt for a few moments—but only for the few moments that it took me to stand back and gaze down upon this beautiful young creature who now lay helpless and at my mercy, all alone with me in this otherwise depressing excuse for a motel room. The guilt had sprung from the fact that my own, courageous daughter had stepped up and saved her friend from possibly being raped by who knows how many horny young teen studs, and then delivered the girl into the care of what she thought were the trusted hands of her own, dear father. The irony was compelling. What would Ashley think if she knew that with her father, her friend had gone from the frying pan and into the fire?

In any event, the guilt was quickly washed away by the perfect setup of this caper: no one would ever know anything about what was about to happen here. Only me. My responsibility was to return this girl in one piece to her parents by 11:00 pm, and that is what I would do. It was just that, before doing so, I would enjoy a thorough tasting of that one piece!

The room was warming up nicely. I looked at my watch. 9:35. I would have a full hour before having to leave. I took off all my clothes. My penis hung heavy in the air as I turned and looked at the teenage girl on her back, passed out on the bed, one shoe missing, her miniskirt hiked up to her soul, her tube top, bulging with her young, firm tits, covering no more than a five inch wide swath of her upper body. Her hair lay strewn about her lovely, sleeping face. She was eighteen. She was lovely. And she was MINE!

For a second I saw my own daughter laying there, about to be raped by an evil man, but was quickly able to shake that vision from my head, and return to the mental state of a young boy at Christmas about to unwrap the biggest present under the tree. As I stood there looking at her, I debated with myself if I wanted to fuck her with her clothes on—simply pull the tube top down around her belly and push that sexy miniskirt up just far enough to give me access to her pussy—or if I should strip her naked? I decided on the latter. I wanted to have the little cock teaser completely NAKED—except for her pretty little earrings and the tiny gold necklace around her neck, plus the matching chain I now noticed around her right ankle, the one above the shoeless foot. The boy at Christmas would TOTALLY unwrap his present before playing with it. In fact, the unwrapping was half the fun!

Before proceeding, I grabbed my cell phone and snapped a photo of my subject. The phone’s strobe flash bathed her body in illuminating light for a fraction of a second. This would surely be the only time in my life that I would have an opportunity such as this, and I wanted to have a pictorial record of it.

My palms were sweaty as I now took the girl’s arms and extended them over her head. This allowed me to pull the tube top over her head and off her arms. I stepped back and again took a picture of her, now in only the miniskirt and the dainty bra which, as I had already seen, covered only the lower portion of a pair of tits that would have been the envy of any woman. I then rolled the girl onto her side, giving me access to the clasp of the bra behind her back. Jesus, I thought as I undid the snap, I hope to hell I can get this thing back on her when I’m through. As I said, I had taken many bras off women in my time, but I had never put one back on. Oh well, I would worry about that when the time came.

Rolling the teenager back onto her back, her arms flopping lifelessly, I pulled off her bra and carefully laid it aside. I then turned to gaze upon her now wonderfully exposed abdomen. My eyes devoured her now bared breasts, and then studied the shape of her grown woman’s body as its lines curved inward to a tiny waist and then swelled back into a pair of wide hips. The waistline of the miniskirt hit her at the widest part of those hips.

I would have this vision of her—naked save for the miniscule skirt covering her private parts and the single high heel shoe—for eternity, as I again snapped a flash photo of her. Her arms lay bent at the elbows in the photo, with the palms of her hands facing up on either side of her head.

My heart pounding, the sweatiness of my own palms seemed to increase as I again rolled the high school senior onto her side and undid the clasp of her skirt, and then pushed the zipper down its entire four inch length. Shouldn’t be too hard to re-dress her, I thought, as I then began to tug the miniskirt downward off those curvaceous hips. As the waistline of the skirt came down, a pair of pink, thong panties greeted me. I paused to take another photo with her skirt in a bunch around her knees and the thong panties guarding the most intimate part of her young, hard body. These photos would provide fantastic masturbation material in the future!

Impatiently now, I pulled the skirt the rest of the way down the young girl’s shapely legs and off her feet. Her remaining shoe also came off at this point. Another photo. Actually, I took several photos of her with only the thong panties, positioning her legs in various poses, some where her thighs hide her crotch, others with her spread eagled so that her panty-clad crotch was fully visible.

Next, my trembling, sweaty hands grasped the thong panties by the strings that wrapped around the girl’s broad hips. Holding my breath, my pulse racing, I pulled the panties downward, off those hips, down her legs and off her feet,

My young girl was now totally naked!

Her lovely body was a delight to behold. Her skin, as pure and smooth as honey, showed tan lines that evidenced sunbathing in a very skimpy bikini. I spread her thighs and noted how the lips of her pussy were framed with the tiniest of fine, light colored pubic hairs. The crude lighting of the shitty room actually bathed her nude body in a very attractive manner. I was sure that the flash photos I took—including one just after removing her panties, would not do justice to the beautiful tone of her skin as she lay sleeping on the bed before me.

Some men might, at this point, have suffered a change of heart, might have taken pity on this poor, defenseless young girl. They might have covered her nakedness and taken her, untouched, back to the protective custody of her parents, which would have been the honorable thing to do. If you had asked me a couple hours earlier, I would have considered myself one of those honorable men. Instead, I climbed onto the bed and spread the teenage girl’s legs even wide apart. I then lifted her right foot and started to suck her toes. Soon my mouth trailed onto her foot, then to her ankle, then proceeded up her calf, my tongue licking her smooth, soft skin as I went. The girl’s leg was spectacular and I tasted it all the way, past her knee, on to the inside of her thigh, and all the way up to her girlhood.

Grasping the girl by her ass cheeks, I lifted her lower abdomen up to my face and began eating her sweet, young pussy, just as a man would hold and eat a quarter watermelon. She tasted fantastic! Before too long, evidence of vaginal secretions greeted my nose and taste buds. The girl’s mind was shut down, but her body was responding to stimulation!

I draped her legs over my shoulders, which meant that I no longer needed to support her ass with my hands while my face was buried in her pussy. My hands now traveled to her breasts to fondle them as my mouth continued to devour her fresh, eighteen-year-old cunt. I stuck my nose inside the lips of her sex and breathed in the full flavor of her youthful femininity.

I could have kept eating this girl’s vagina all night long, but I was under some time constraints. If I was going to fuck her, I had to start. Reluctantly I pulled my pussy soaked face away from her crotch, and allowed her legs to drop gently to the mattress.

The room by now had become quite warm, so I left the bed and turned off the noisy heater. My pole of a penis swung in the air as I moved. Clicking the off switch, the room suddenly became deathly quiet once the old heater coughed and sputtered to a merciful stop.

I then turned and looked to the bed. On it laid sprawled a beautiful, naked teenage girl, unconscious, waiting for me, her legs lying open in a provocative manner, just I had left them after thoroughly eating the female organ at their juncture.

On the bed once again, I knelt between those wide spread legs and reached for my condom. I watched her peacefully sleeping body intently as I rolled the purple colored latex over my throbbing male member. It had been years since I had used a rubber, and I was somewhat clumsy in getting it unrolled and onto my shaft. How fantastic it would have been to fuck this little bitch without the condom, knowing that I would be sending cum deep into her young, hard body! Unfortunately, she was probably as fertile as a laboratory rodent, and I could not run the risk of knocking her up.

With the purple condom now encasing all but the last two inches of my cock—and making it look like a fucking grape popsicle—I spit on it for lubrication. The girl’s pussy seemed to be well oiled with her own secretions, but I knew from having explored her with my fingers that while she might not be a virgin, she was definitely tight down there for a man my size, and all lubrication would be a plus.

I lifted the girl’s legs up and again draped her knees over my shoulder. This lifted her ass off the mattress several inches and brought her sex into perfect position to receive me. As I held her thighs with my left arm, my right hand reached beneath her ass and guided the head of my purple penis into the lips of the sixteen-year-old vagina.

The head of my penis entered her. Looking downward, I watched in fascination as the lips of the teen’s cunt parted to accept the head of my rigid dick. I paused to look at her face. She was sleeping peacefully, her face angelic in the muted light of the cheap room.

I pushed forward, against her, and felt my cock gain a full inch of penetration, the head now disappeared inside her. Again I paused. My hand was no longer needed to guide my penis, so as I leaned over the prone girl’s abdomen, her thighs at a forty-five degree angle over her body, her knees still draped over my shoulders, I placed my hands over her upturned palms and pressed her hands into the mattress, interlocking my fingers with hers.

The first inch of my cock had penetrated her effortlessly, but I could feel that getting the entire diameter of the thing deep into her would not be so easy, given the tightness of her young cunt, regardless of whether or not she was a virgin. A little force would be required, but at least I knew that there would be no telltale signs of a broken, bloody hymen after I was through. I could simply not have proceeded with this mission had that been the case.

“I am going to possess you now, my little tramp,” I spoke to her aloud, squeezing her hands. I then gave her a powerful forward thrust with my pelvis that did, indeed, send my manhood deep into a pussy that had no choice but to cede. Had the girl been conscious, I am sure she would have cried out in pain. As it was, the only sound that she emitted came not from her mouth but from her cunt—a slurping noise as her juicy love canal received its male counterpart. With the heater off, the room was very quiet, and I could clearly hear, and not just feel, one of the greatest sensations of my life: my cock entering to the hilt the pussy of a high school hottie with a marvelous slurping sound
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I thought my cock was going to explode in orgasm at that second, given the tightness of her cunt and the excitement of having taken sexual possession of her. But I remained motionless with my dick buried within her and was able to will myself back from the brink. I didn’t have all night, but I certainly wanted to enjoy fucking this little bitch a lot longer that than just one entrance slam!

Remaining motionless, with the fabulous feeling of her cunt walls hugging my penis, I waited out the danger of instantly creaming her. I was loving the feel of her tightness—the walls of her teen pussy seemed to be clinging desperately to the male member that now impaled her. Had she so much as moved a single muscle at that moment, I am sure I would have exploded with cum; fortunately, she simply continued lying there, unconscious, unaware that her young body was being used in such a vile way. I again studied the face of the sleeping beauty, and thanked whoever the hell it had been who had slipped this girl the date rape drug. Feeling at last that I had control over when I would orgasm, I slowly began fucking the little bitch. I pumped her with slow, careful in-an-out thrusts, steadily increasing my pace until I felt her lifeless heels banging into my back like those of a rag doll. If I could have told her something at this moment, it would have been that I was doing this for the way she had stood in my kitchen that night of the sleepover, in her t-shirt and nothing else, and flirted with me like a little whore! This is for that night, Brittany! This is for standing in my dark kitchen wearing nothing but a t-shirt and amused by the way you made me feel uncomfortable! These were my thoughts as my cock went in and out of her repeatedly.

After enjoying the girl in this position for a long while, I let her legs drop from my shoulders. They fell to the bed with a thud, spread wide apart by my presence between them. I then laid my weight down upon her, smashing her breasts against my body. With myself in position so that my cock was as far into the girl as it could possibly go, her head came only to my chest. I then scooted my body down—careful that my cock not exit her—so that I could nuzzle her neck, bite at her delicate gold necklace, and take in the sweet, faint scent of her perfume. Lord did she smell great! Everything about this young lady was a turn on: the way she looked, dressed, flirted, and smelled.

Suddenly I heard her moan! I froze. Was she coming to? I ceased my fucking of her and lay still, my penis buried inside her. She moaned again, but then was silent. I studied her closed eyes carefully in the dimness of the room. For several minutes I watched her intently, expecting that she was going to wake up and discover that she was being raped! What would I do then?!

But she remained quiet, motionless, eyes closed in unconsciousness. Carefully, monitoring her as if she were my patient and I were a doctor looking for vital sins, I resumed fucking her. With the fear I had felt at her possibly awakening, my penis has shrunk perceptively, but as I renewed screwing my high school hottie, I felt my friend rejoining the battle. In no time at all it was as hard as ever, its external diameter once again stretching the internal diameter of the girl's vagina.

Soon I was fucking the sleeping young girl with the same vigor as previously, but it did not take long before her perfume, her nakedness, the feel of her hard body—before all these things conspired against my attempts at self-control and were bringing me to the verge of orgasm. But I did not want this to end so soon! At the last moment, with my balls hard and ready to explode, I withdrew abruptly from her vagina and sat up between her spread legs. My dick loomed heavily in the air above the naked girl’s body, the garish purple condom that shrouded it fairly glistening with the young girl’s cunt juices.

I was breathing hard and was somewhat dizzy. There was certainly some pre-cum already in the condom which, by the way, I had noticed had slid downward an inch or two, and I tugged back up as much as I could.

After catching my breath and calming myself down from the precipice of orgasm, I rolled the high school senior onto her stomach. Her lifeless arms flopped like a rag doll’s as her hard body was turned over. My eyes now devoured her pert little ass. I marveled at the way its perfect roundness curved upward into the air, and ran my hands lovingly over it. I then increased the upraised effect by sliding a pillow under the girl’s flat tummy, positioning the ripe, young derriere in a manner that made both her asshole and her cunt ready to receive a man.

The sight of her fine ass in the air gave me pause. Did I not want to try to fuck her in the ass? I pulled her butt cheeks apart and stared at the tight, round sphincter. I even parted the sphincter with the tip of my middle finger and, when it ceded, plunged the finger two or three inches into the warm, tight rectum. Fucking her here was certainly tempting. I could rip off this ridiculous condom and go in bareback, no worries of contributing to the problem that is teen pregnancy by using THIS hole! But I quickly dismissed the thought. I had time for only one round with this sweetie, and I hadn’t yet had enough of her cunt. I therefore contented myself by keeping my finger deep inside her ass for awhile as I kissed and licked every square inch of her buttocks. I then removed my finger and rubbed the head of my phallus against her asshole, but then aimed it lower an eased it back into the hole that god had intended.

I entered her with half my condom sheathed penis, feeling the warmth of her love canal envelop it. I then extended my body over hers and lay heavily on top of her. Her round butt felt wonderful pressed against my lower belly. I ran my hands underneath her body and grasped her breasts with both hands, squeezing them with my fingers as I began to hump the little bitch, slowly at first, then harder, then harder still. The sounds of skin slapping against skill, together with the slurping of cock going in and out of cunt and the animalistic grunts that I know I was making, filled the seedy motel room. The old bed, which probably dated from the 1960’s, creaked in protest as I banged the little babe. I was glad the room next to ours was vacant, or someone would have been pounding on the wall by now for us to shut the fuck up.

I could feel that I was again on the verge of climax, and this time, instead of denying it, I let it swell. I continued sending my penis in and out of her tight vagina with deep, solid stokes, feeling the walls of the vagina cling to my dick like a baby monkey clinging to its mother’s belly. I felt my balls harden in anticipation of the release of what I knew would be a monstrous ejaculation.

When the explosion occurred, I ceased my pumping in mid-stroke so that I could better feel the spasms of my cum leaving my balls and shooting into the condom that was this poor girl’s only protection against a possible teen pregnancy.

When the spam subsided, I renewed humping her lovely ass, crying “yes, yes” over and over until, at last, I collapsed in exhaustion on top of her, burying her from view on the cheap mattress.

My rape of this beautiful, eighteen-year-old was now complete. The room was now eerily quiet.

Minutes later I stirred myself back into action. I had to. I would have preferred to have just remained there, lying spent on top of the young honey that I had just ravished, and savoring the warmth of her body beneath me in the afterglow of what had been an extremely satisfying sexual exploit. But I couldn’t. What time was it? I had taken my watch off and put it in my pants pocket.

I pulled myself off the unconscious girl. My penis slid from her cunt. When it did so, I stared at it in horror. The condom was not on it!

Shit! Panicking, I got down between the sleeping girl’s spread legs and took a close look at her recently fucked pussy. Her body was still face down, her belly still on the pillow that I had placed there. The condom had to still be inside her! I had to reach in and get it!

I rolled the girl onto her back again to perform this procedure. Gingerly, I reached a finger into the sopping wet pussy. When I felt nothing immediately, I pushed the finger in further, about two inches, and there it was! I could feel the damn thing. Cursing, I sent a second finger inside the wet teen pussy that I had just fucked and, by pinching the condom between the two fingers, was able to pull the damn thing out.

As I did so, I saw—again with horror—that the fucking thing had broken! Fuck! How much of my cum had gotten into the girl?! Did any of it get pumped as far as her uterus?! Or were any of my “boys” crawling their way at that very moment to get at her fertile chamber?!

I closely examined the tattered purple prophylactic. Fucking cheap ass gas station rubbers! A significant amount of my cum appeared to be in the thing, but from the way the thing was torn, it looked pretty obvious that some of it had probably gotten out. I cursed as an amount of my cum trickled from condom and onto my fingers, and angrily threw the torn latex against a wall.

Fighting against panic, my mind raced for ideas. Could I douche her? No, what would that accomplish? Nothing unless I had a spermicide, which I didn’t, and there were no pharmacies for miles. I had seen an ad recently for an over-the-counter morning after pill, but again, who knew WHERE the closest pharmacy was?

I looked at my watch. Ten thirty. I had to go. Forget it. I told myself that I did NOT just knock this little bitch up, so quit worrying. I had to get her dressed and get her home quickly, that was all.

I looked at the cum on my fingers, and then had a devilish idea. Instead of wiping the cum off on the sheets, as I was about to do, I reached to the girl’s mouth, inserted my fingers between her slightly parted lips, and wiped the cum on her soft, wet tongue.

I then dressed rapidly and, once I was clothed, proceeded to round up the few items of the girl’s clothing. This was certainly going to be something I had never done before! As indicated earlier, I had taken the clothes off many a female in my time, but never had I had the occasion of putting them back on!

Before starting, there were a few last photos that I needed to take. Pictures of the girl’s nude body post-rape from various angles, including a close-up of a very wet pussy. Once done with that, I noted with amazement that I had taken a total of some thirty pictures altogether since bringing my young victim into this lair.

No more time to waste. I took a towel and wiped the teen’s snatch as dry as I could, then slid her panties over her feet and pulled them up her long, lovely legs until they snugly fit into position at her crotch. Next came the strapless bra. I felt like a little girl dressing her Barbie doll. Did Barbie ever wear bras, though? Good question. I don’t think so.

I paused for a moment to stare at the teenager now in her sexy bra and panties. “You were a fantastic piece of ass, sweetie,” I said aloud.

Next was the tube top, over the head and arms and into position fitting tightly against those remarkable twin peaks. Then the skirt, which proved to be as difficult pushing up over her hips as it had been when pulling it down. Finally, the high heeled shoes went back onto the girl’s feet. My little Barbie doll was ready to go home.

I carried my rape victim’s lifeless body back to the Porsche and carefully sat her in the passenger seat and fastened the seat belt around her. Her short skirt had hiked up scandalously high on her thighs. I tugged the hem downward as much as I could, but it wasn’t more than an inch at the most. As I shut the car’s door, I took a last glance at those marvelous thighs with the satisfaction of knowing that I had just fucked the pussy that lay at their delicious juncture.

In only ten minutes I was pulling into the driveway of the girl’s house, thanks to my trusty GPS. The timing was perfect. It was only 10:45, sixteen minutes before the girl’s curfew. A moment of reckoning was approaching. My god, I was about to meet the parents of a teenage girl I had just raped! Stay cool, I told myself.

Lights were on in the house. How best to deliver the girl? What to tell the parents about their darling daughter passed out in my car? I decided to leave her in the car and introduce myself first and explain the situation. As I walked up to the door I saw a woman at a downstairs window. The curtain closed and she disappeared, only to open the front door before I was able to knock.

There was a worried expression on the woman’s face. “Everything’s okay,” I quickly reassured her. “Brittany’s okay. She’s in my car. I’m Ashley Collins’ dad. Ashley called me and had me bring Brittany home. I’m…I’m afraid she had a little too much to drink.”

The woman was obviously relieved and opened the door a little wider. I looked over her shoulder to see if the man of the house was there, but saw no one else.

“Thank god,” the woman said. “I’ve been calling Brittany’s cell phone, but knowing her, the battery’s probably dead.”

The woman was very attractive. I could see that Brittany had taken after her mother.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to carry her in,” I said. “She passed out right as I picked the girl’s up, and she hasn’t come to.”

I turned to go back to the car, and the woman, pulling a sweater over her shoulders, followed me. “How embarrassing!” she cried. “I’m so sorry, Mr….Collins, you said?”

“Joe”, I said. “Don’t worry. Kids these days. They do kind of go overboard now and then.”

“I am grounding her for this,” the woman muttered as she walked behind me to my car. “She is so grounded!”

The mother shut the car door for me after I lifted her young daughter out of the passenger seat. She then ran ahead of me as I approached the front door carrying the girl in my arms, the girl’s arms and legs dangling, her miniskirt hiked so far up that there would have been nothing left to anyone’s imagination. Maybe a neighbor or two were watching? I knew that this was embarrassing the mother greatly, but what the hell could I possible do about that?

The woman opened the front door for me and I walked inside carrying her precious daughter. Still no sign of the father.

“Could you please take her upstairs? To her bedroom?” The embarrassment in the mother’s voice was palpable. “I’m so ashamed. This is not how we raised her. I am so glad her father is out of town and can’t see this.”

I, too, was glad that daddy was out of town. I really didn’t want to see him or even think he existed.

Upstairs, the mother lead me down a hallway and stood by the open door to the girl’s bedroom as I carried her daughter in. The room was softly illuminated by a night light. There was a single, twin size bed in the room on which I lay the girl. As I did so, I could have sworn that her eyes flickered open. I hesitated a second to look, but I must have been imagining things, because she appeared now to be sleeping peacefully.

The skirt had ridden up so high when I lay her down that her pink lace panties were visible. I pretended not to notice. In fact, I made a point of turning away quickly so that the mom would think I was a perfect gentleman. What the shit. I had already seen—and had—everything this little girl had to offer, so I sure as hell didn’t need to gawk at her further in front of her mother, who now rushed over to the bed and pulled a blanket over the girl’s body after removing her high heel shoes.

I did take a moment to glance around the dimly lit bedroom of the sixteen year old girl whom I had just had the privilege of fucking. That proved to be a turn-on: the requisite stuffed animals; posters of Hollywood celebrities and musical groups; clothes strewn about. I felt my penis stirring anew as I walked out into the hall.

Brittany’s mom came out after me and pulled the door to the girl’s bedroom shut behind her. “I can’t thank you enough…Joe”

The pain in her eyes really made me feel sorry for her. “No trouble at all, ma’am.”

“Julie,” she said. Suddenly I became concerned that she might smell her daughter’s cunt juices on my face. But then, as I could at last get a good look at her in the hallway light, my mind turned to something else. I was now able to notice how beautiful she was despite the worried lines around her eyes, and I felt something other than sorry for her. Let’s see: her husband was gone and her daughter was passed out. I felt like dragging her to her bedroom and scoring a mother/daughter combo in one night. That would really be something! Too bad I didn’t have the cojones to do it.

I am sure I masked my true feelings at that moment. I am sure she saw nothing in my eyes other than what she interpreted as the mutual, worried concerned of a fellow parent. “No problem, Julie. It was nothing I wouldn’t expect anybody to do for my daughter.” Liar. I chuckled inwardly.

The woman followed me down the stairs. As I walked toward the front door, she offered me a cup of coffee. I politely declined. As quickly as I could I took my leave.

On the drive home my mind replayed the fun I had had, from the time I had dropped Ashley off at home until the time I laid Brittany in her bed. What a fantastic opportunity that had literally fallen in my lap! But suddenly the visions of the broken condom, and of Brittany’s eyes opening as I placed her on her bed, danced before my eyes. I shifted uncomfortably in the seat of the Porsche 911 as I drove home through the night.

Just as I was opening the garage door to my house, a car drove up to the curb in front of the house and Ashley emerged from the passenger’s seat. I drove the Porsche into the garage and shut off the engine.

“Dad!” Ashley exclaimed as she walked into the garage. “You’re just NOW getting home?”

I panicked. It was over three hours since I had left to take Brittany home. How was I to explain to my daughter why it had taken so long to take her friend home? Damn, I hadn’t planned a story explaining the long time that it took! I guess I had assumed Ashley wouldn’t be getting home at the exact fucking minute I did!

“I…I had a flat tire,” I said as I climbed out of the car and hit the button to close the garage door “And my spare was flat. A real bitch. I had to get a tow and it took forever.” Then I added hastily: “But I got Brittany home on time.”

“Great, Dad!” Ashley kissed me on the cheek. “You’re tops, pops.”

We entered the kitchen from the garage. “Those guys at the party were real jerks,” Ashley continued. “I just KNEW I had to get Brittany out of there, the way they were acting. Thanks for coming to the rescue. You really saved Brittany.”

I winced internally. “You did the rescuing, sweetheart,” I told her.

Later, I was in the kitchen and it was dark and there was a girl standing by the refrigerator. She was wearing nothing but a white t-shirt, but the t-shirt stuck out grotesquely in front, and then I realized that the girl was Brittany and that she heavily pregnant. I awoke from the dream in a sweat, and had trouble getting back to sleep.

It must have been close to noon the next morning, Saturday when I heard signs that Ashley was awake and stirring. She was coming from her bedroom to the kitchen where I was having a late breakfast and reading the newspaper. She was talking on her cell phone. I was unaware of what she was saying or with whom she was speaking until she actually came into the kitchen and I heard: “Yeah, I’ll tell him. I know, he’s a sweetie.” Then, pulling the mouthpiece of the phone away from her lips, she called to me: “Dad, Brittany says thanks for taking her home last night. She’s sorry she was passed out.”

I was taking a sip of hot coffee when she said this, and involuntarily sucked in more of the hot brew than I should have, which went down the wrong pipe. I coughed for a few seconds, and then, waving my hand dismissively, said “No problem. My pleasure.”

“He says you’re welcome”, I heard Ashley tell her friend as she opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a bottle of orange juice.

I stared at the newspaper page I had been reading, but instead of seeing the newsprint any longer, my eyes had lost their focus and instead I was seeing the lovely body of Brittany once again, naked, her legs draped over my shoulders, my cock buried inside her teenage pussy. My god but what a fantastic piece of fuck meat that young girl had been! I felt my cock stiffening inside my shorts as I sat at the table remembering her. I knew that I would be masturbating to the memory of her for months to come. And not just the memories: the explicit photos taken of her , both before AND after fucking her, would allow me to relive that evening in vivid detail. I smiled subtly to myself and surreptitiously—so that my daughter wouldn’t notice—adjusted the position of my hardening cock inside my underwear.

I was aware that Ashley continued blabbing with Brittany on the phone as she sat at the table with me and her orange juice, but had little idea for how long or about what they spoke. It was typical young female chatter. But then I heard her say: “You can talk to him now.” This raised my eyebrows. I looked up from my paper and over to my daughter. “Okay, then, call him later.” I then heard her give her friend my cell phone number.

When Ashley finally hung up, I asked her why she had given Brittany my phone number.

“She said her mother insisted that she call you personally and apologize for last night. But she had to do something right now. She’s going to call you later.”

Oh, really? I thought, draining the last of my coffee.

“She got grounded”, Ashley said.

“I got her home before eleven”, I said.

“But she got grounded anyway for being passed out drunk and having to have someone carry her home.”

I nodded. “Well,” I said thoughtfully, “maybe she’ll learn from this experience.”

An hour later I was driving the Porsche 911 to a computer store when my cell phone rang. The call went to my car radio speakers through Bluetooth. After I said hello, the voice of young Brittany filled the auto’s tight interior.

“Mr. Collins?” Her voice was soft. Sensuous.

I started to say “yes” but I found suddenly that I could hardly speak. I felt like a teenager myself, one with little or no social skills. Finally, I spit it out: “Yes? Brittany?”

“Yeah,” she said. There was a pause. Then: “Mr. Collins, I’m calling to apologize for being drunk last night. I am so embarrassed.”

”That’s okay, Brittany. But you should watch out. You’re eighteen now, but that's too young to be drinking like that.”

“I know.” There was a pouting sound to her voice, and the way it reverberated throughout the interior of the 911 with the Bluetooth made me swallow hard. “I’ll be more careful from now on.”

“Yeah. People your age can have fun without drinking.”

“I know,” she said. Then there was another pause. I thought she was going to say goodbye, but instead I heard: “Mr. Collins, I wanted to ask you a question.”

”Yes, Brittany, what is it?”

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

I almost hit the car in front of me who was braking for a car that had pulled out in front of it from a fast food establishment. “Excuse me?” I said.

“I asked if you enjoyed yourself last night. When you took me home.”

“Well…what do you mean, honey?”

“You don’t remember what you did last night? Am I that forgettable?”

I felt as if a choke collar had been applied to my neck. I quickly pulled into a strip mall parking lot and brought the Porsche to a stop before I hit something.

”Mr. Collins?” the girl’s voice came softly across the car’s speakers. “Are you still there?”

“Yes,” I managed to say. Then: “Brittany, what are you talking about, honey?”

“You know what I’m talking about, Mr. Collins.”

I felt like I was going to throw up my breakfast. “No,” I finally was able to say with what I hoped was a calm voice. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. Can you…can you tell me?” My heart was in my throat.

“I found your DNA in my panties this morning when I woke up.”

It was as if a solid fist to my face had sent me reeling. I was speechless. After a long silence, I heard the young girls’ soft voice say again: “Mr. Collins?” Her tone of voice so far had been as if she were discussing the weather.

“Brittany!” I said breathlessly. “What in the world are you talking about? Do you know what you’re saying?”

“Uh huh. Is your memory better now?”

I had absolutely no idea what to say. Was I busted? My shaking hands grasped my head. The thought that I might, indeed, be busted would not register.

“Mr. Collins,” the girl said after another long silence, “I was thinking, I have two options.” When she heard no response from me, she continued: “One, I could take my panties to the police.”

I stared out the windshield of the Porsche 911 with unseeing eyes as her words reverberated around the interior of the Porsche 911 and the inside of my head. “Or,” I heard her continue, “the other option is, I could sell them to you.”

How did she KNOW?! I shouted silently to myself through clenched teeth. DNA on her panties!? So some of my cum DID remain inside her! And it trickled out onto her fucking panties after I put them back on her! I shouldn’t have put the damn thing back on her! But then, I couldn’t very well have taken her home without her fucking panties!

“Did you hear the options, Mr. Collins?”

It dawned on me that the little bitch might be recording the call. I couldn’t afford to admit to a thing. I had to talk to her in person, where there was no fear of being bugged.

“Brittany,” I said in a calm voice, but it sounded flat to my own ears. “You must be having some sort of…problem, child. You need some help. I…I…let me meet with you. Let me try to help you.”

“You want to meet? Sure. This afternoon?”

“But where?” I asked. “Ashley told me you were grounded.” Suddenly a sickening thought struck me. “Brittany,” I said, unable now to disguise the nervousness in my voice. “You…you haven’t told anybody about…about this fantasy of yours?”

I actually heard a laugh in the girl’s voice. “No”, she said. “It’s just our little secret, Mr. Collins. So far.”

“Look,” I said quickly. “Can we meet this afternoon? When? Where?”

“There’s a strip mall on the highway close to my house. There’s a McDonald’s there. I’ll be in front of the McDonald’s at three o’clock.”

“You’re not grounded?” If this hadn’t been such a fucking serious situation I would have laughed at sounding like a teenager taking to his girlfriend.

“I can tell my mother I’m going to study at my friend’s house. She’ll let me leave for that. But I’ll have to be back by five.”

At three sharp I pulled up in front of the designated McDonalds restaurant. My heart was pounding fiercely. I looked around for several minutes but didn’t see the girl. Suddenly, there she was, standing beside my driver’s side window. She was nicely dressed in jeans—tight ones—a white blouse and black leather jacket. She was holding school books, which must have been her ruse for leaving her house. I motioned for her to go around and get in the car. As she did so, my heart was racing faster than the 2,000 rpms of Porsche’s idling engine.

I was dying to look at her, but refused to do so as I put the car in gear the second she got in and had shut the door behind her. I pulled away, paying attention to traffic as I entered the road, but I could tell that she had fixed her gaze upon me. I passed her a written note that I had prepared in advance. She started to read the note out loud, but after I abruptly gave her a silence signal with my forefinger in front of my lips, continued reading the note quietly to herself. The note read: “No conversation until I’ve had the chance to search you for a listening device.”

I heard her giggle as she folded the note. It was the first thing I had ever heard or seen—or felt—about this girl that told me she was only a teenager.

I drove out of the commercial area and soon we were in forest land where trees crowed the highway. After a few minutes, my passenger asked: “Where are you taking me?” When I didn’t answer, she said, her voice shaking slightly: “I told my friend that I was meeting you…” For once she didn’t sound so…so much in control! But what a smart little bitch. Maybe she had told someone, maybe not, but she obviously told me this so that I wouldn’t kill her and bury her in a fucking hole in the forest!

After not too many miles I pulled off onto a logging road and drove a hundred yards into the forest. I stopped the car and got out. I walked around and opened the door for the teen girl, who unwrapped her lithe hard body from the low slung car and stood to her full 5’6” height. Without high heels she was a little shorter than she had been the night before.

With no introductory niceties, I immediately told the girl to take off the leather jacket. Looking at me, a noncommittal expression on her pretty, young face, she obliged, and handed it to me. Meticulously, I searched the garment. I was trusting her that she had not gone to the police, and therefore it was unlikely that she had any sort of sophisticated audio surveillance device, but a small tape recorder was a possibility. This little bitch was not to be taken lightly.

There proved to be nothing in the coat. I then demanded her purse, which she proffered. Inside was her cell phone, which was not in record mode, but no other electronic device. I took the girl by her shoulders and spun her around rudely until she faced the car, and made her put her hands on top of the car. I then frisked her body thoroughly, leaving no part of her unexamined. My cock, despite my potentially dire circumstances, had the audacity of stiffening slightly as my hands felt the girl’s firm, natural breasts that lay beneath the white blouse and what must have been that familiar, flimsy push-up bra. I then made sure with my hands that there was nothing in the pockets of her jeans that stretched across the curves of her hips and ass, although the jeans fit her so tightly that just by looking one could tell that they held no foreign object. My hands also confirmed beyond doubt that there was nothing of a extraneous nature in the snug fitting crotch of the jeans.

The girl tried to watch me over her shoulder as I patted her down. I could tell that an open mouth smile played on her lips. She appeared to be highly amused, which irritated the shit out of me. I wanted her to be terrified. Instead, I was the one who was terrified. When I was done, and satisfied that she was clean, I gave her back her jacket to put on. The day was rather chilly. Her eyes, which were fixed on mine as she pulled the black leather jacket back on, fairly flashed with amusement. God was she beautiful! “Maybe you better do a cavity search,” she purred. “There might be a listening device in my pussy.”

“Get back in the fucking car!” I hissed.

Once we were both back inside and out of the chill air, I demanded: “Okay, talk!”

The girl tossed her head and her long, dark blonde hair flowed over her shoulders. “Well,” she began, “you never answered my first question.”

“What questions?”

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” She was looking out the windshield.

“Enjoy WHAT?” I hissed, exasperation getting the best of me.

The girl turned her beautiful face toward me and, as calmly as if she were ordering a burger with fries, asked: “Did you enjoy fucking me?”

Hearing the f-word like this coming from the pretty mouth of such a good looking teenage girl caught me momentarily off guard. Recovering quickly, I nearly shouted: “I did not…” At first I could not even repeat such a word in front of such a young, sweet looking girl, but then I persevered. “I DID NOT FUCK YOU!”

The way she merely smiled at me told me that the game was over. “Give it up, Mr. C. We both know what happened.”

Even though I was twenty-five years older than her, and she addressed me as Mister, she seemed every bit the patient adult telling a wayward child to quit lying about something. I shut my eyes against this nightmare as she continued speaking. “I really was shit faced last night. The last thing I remember clearly was talking with Ashley at that party. She told me this morning when I called her that she got me out of the party. For my safety, she said. She thought I was going to be raped or something. So she delivered me to the protective custody of her dear father.” The sarcasm fairly dripped from her voice as she spoke.

She continued: “I remember coming to at some moment, just for a few seconds maybe. I was on a bed and…I was being fucked! I felt that…that I had my ankles around a man’s neck…and we were doing it. Gee, am I blushing?” She paused to giggle. “And then I felt my legs fall to the bed. And the man kept fucking me. But then I must have passed out again.”

I sat there in cold silence hunched behind the steering wheel of the Porsche, my eyes shut, my hands together, fingers interlocked, the knuckles just below my nose.

“I remember only bits and pieces after that. I…felt the man’s fingers in my pussy and he was cussing. Muttering something about a broken condom. And then I could sense some camera flashes going off. I felt so scared at that moment, but I couldn’t do anything. My body wouldn’t respond. It was weird. It was like I was having an out-of-body experience. Ashley told me she thought I had been slipped a date rape drug. Maybe that was the effects, I don’t know.

“I then remember cold air hitting me. I was being carried into the cold outdoors. And then I was sitting in a car. I must have opened my eyes about then because I saw this red neon motel sign, only the “l” in motel was missing. I remember being bothered by that, like that Monk guy on TV. I don’t remember anything after that until somebody was carrying me upstairs to my bedroom. I could hear my mom babbling. And I saw your face as you laid me on my bed.”

There was a pause in the girl’s monologue, but I didn’t open my eyes. I just sat there, petrified.

Then she continued. “My mom came in around nine this morning and woke me up. She was mad as hell and wanted to read me the riot act. She was bitching at me, but my head was terrible. I had this really fucking bad hangover.”

Did most girls her age swear as bad as this girl, I wondered vaguely.

“Then my mom left my room and left me lying there in bed. I wanted to go back to sleep but I couldn’t. My head hurt too bad. I was under the sheets but I realized I was still wearing the clothes I had gone out in. I just lay there, wishing I was dead. And then those few memory flashes of the night before came crawling into my head. I remembered that I had been raped. I reached under my miniskirt and felt my pussy. It was a little sore. I think I did sleep then a little bit. When my mom came into the room again later, I asked her who it was that brought me home, and she said it was you, Mr. C. And she said how much I had embarrassed her. She told me I had to call you and apologize.”

Did I hear a giggle in her voice?

“I finally got up and went to take a shower. When I was in the bathroom and took my panties off, I looked at them really carefully. I’ve seen guys’ dried cum before, and I saw a small trace of it right there in the crotch of the panties. Somebody’s DNA just as plain as could be.”

She paused there, and there was total, deafening silence in the car. Then the girl continued. “YOUR DNA, Mr. Collins. Really, you should have been more careful. Did you really use a condom, but it broke?” There was no doubt this time that she had actually laughed.

“What a gentleman to have used a condom,” she went on, sarcasm coating her words. “So considerate, Mr. Collins. But next time, let me recommend Trojans. Good quality. They won’t break.”

I sat there cursing the phone call that I got from my daughter the night before to go pick her up.

“You could have gotten me pregnant with that cheap rubber! Thank god I’m on the pill.”

Well, at least there was relief there, I thought bitterly.

“And what a flea bag motel you took me to! I think that bed gave me cooties. I thought you had more class than that, Mr. C.”

I know that she thought these snide remarks could get a rise out of me. When they did not, she went on. ”So, I thought, hum, I should go to the police and report that I was raped.”

I at last opened my eyes and glared balefully at the teenage girl.

“You know, you really should be punished for what you did,” she said. “That was really, really, wrong, taking advantage of a young girl like that. But, should you go to prison for thirty years? I hear they do awful things in prison to rapists.

“So I had this idea. I’m saving for college, and, well, a donation to my college fund would be appreciated. It would be like a raffle. You buy the panties I was wearing last night, and we both come out ahead.”

There was another long silence. Finally, I asked, “How much?”

“Well,” she said, “I don’t want to take too much advantage of the situation. I was thinking, one semester’s tuition. $10,000.”

I almost shit my pants. “What?”

“I should charge you a lot more for the unauthorized photos you took of me. How many did you take, by the way?”

I simply at there with my eyes closed.

“I know you’re going to do real creepy things with those photos, Mr. C. So, I don’t think asking for $10,000 is too much. Especially when you consider that, otherwise…” Until here, her voice had been light, airy. Then, her tone turned downright vicious: “Otherwise, I could ruin your fucking life with what I’ve got on you.” The dark tone continued as she added: “Don’t under estimate me, Mr. Collins. If you think for one minute that I’m bluffing about going to the police, you’ll be very sorry.”

As I looked at her beautiful, young face that was now deadly serious, I knew instinctively that she most certainly was not bluffing. The little bitch had me by the balls, and we both knew it.

“And if you want, I’ll give you a preview of what I would be like on the witness stand at your trial, pointing to you as the man who took me to that cheap motel without the ‘l’ and raped me while I was drugged. I would be crying pretty hard when I did that. Why, you might get forty years!”

“Okay, okay,” I said. “You win. I’ll pay you off. But…but $10,000 is a lot—“

“Bull shit!” she cut me off. “What’s this fucking car worth? And that house of yours. Don’t bull shit me, ten grand is chump change for you. I should be asking for a lot more!”

I shut my eyes again in exasperation. Why, god? I cried to myself. Why couldn’t I have kept my fucking hands to myself last night!

“Look,” she was saying. “I’ve got to be going. I’ll give you four days to get the money together, or I’ll take my panties and the name of that dump of a motel to the cops. Maybe you used an alias when you registered at that shit hole, or paid cash, but I think the cops will be able to trace you to it.”

I was stunned by the trashing I was receiving at the hands of this eighteen year old girl.

“I suppose you’ll want to pay cash so there’s no paper trail,” she went on. “That’ll be fine. One hundred hundred dollar bills. By Wednesday evening.”

“How are you going to account for $10,000 suddenly showing up in your hands?” I asked wearily.

Like a chameleon, the girl’s tone and demeanor switched back from the angry bitch to sweet young girl. In a sly voice that, she replied: “That’s MY problem, Mr. Collins. Now, take me back to that McDonald’s. I really do have homework to do.”

After spending the rest of Saturday kicking myself for having been so reckless the night before, I spent Sunday on-line reviewing my financial portfolios, and decided that taking a $10,000 loan from my 401k account would be my best option. I could repay it over the next twelve months.

By Monday afternoon the money was transferred to my banking account, and on Tuesday morning I withdrew $10,000 in cold, hard cash. What an expensive piece of ass that fucking little cunt had turned out to be! But, I realized gloomily, I was, in fact, very fortunate that she turned out to be the perfect little bitch that would prefer blackmailing me to turning me over to the judicial system.

Tuesday night I dialed her cell phone.

“Hello, Mr. C.” She had noticed my number on her caller ID. Her voice on the other end sounded positively sultry.

“I have your money,” I said dryly.

“Good,” she purred. “Meet me tomorrow. After school. I’ll get off the school bus close to that McDonald’s . That’ll be about 3:30. Wait for me there.”

“And you’ll have…what I’m buying?” I asked.

The girl giggled. “My panties? The one’s with your cum stain on them? Sure, Mr. C. I’ll have them for you.”

There was a pause, then she added: “Look, you won’t have time to take me to the woods and feel me up this time. I’ll have to be home before 4:00 or my mom’ll raise shit. So let’s meet INSIDE the McDonald’s this time. That’s better for the hand off.”

“What do you mean?”

“Not that I don’t trust you, Mr. C, but once I have the money in my hands, and you have…what you’re buying…I don’t want you to be able to take the money back from me. If we’re in a public place where I can scream, I don’t think you’ll try any funny stuff.”

Silently I shook my head. “Right, I said. What a smart little bitch!

Wednesday afternoon I arrived at the McDonald’s parking lot well before 3:30. I had never met a blackmailer before, and was very nervous. At 3:30 there was still no school bus. I must have looked at my watch a dozen times over the next five minutes, and then there the bus was. I watched carefully as half a dozen high school kids piled off the bus. Brittany was the last one. She looked like a swan among crows, dressed stylishly in designer jeans, riding boots and a jacket that I had seen on many women during a trip to Italy several months ago. Her classmates wore sneakers and bulky coasts with professional sports team logos. A handsome book bag—unlike the backpacks that most of her peers used—was slung over a shoulder.

I watched her as she scanned the McDonald’s parking lot and then, once she spotted the Porsche, began walking briskly toward the entrance of the restaurant. Her long hair fairly shone in the late afternoon, late winter sunlight. Her tight jean hugged her fine ass just below the hem of the jacket. She looked absolutely stunning.

When I walked into the restaurant, Brittany had already seated herself in a booth. She watched me and smiled slightly as I walked up to the booth.

I looked around the restaurant. I guess I was looking for surveillance cameras that were recording my rendezvous with this hottie teen. It didn’t matter, really, as long as nothing went wrong. Any tapes would be erased for reuse eventually.

“Shall I order us something?” I asked. I didn’t want any management types noticing people sitting in their booths having not ordered anything.

“I’ll have a Diet Coke”, she said.

After a short time in line at the counter, I brought the girl’s Diet Coke back to the booth, as well as a regular coke for me. The girl was still smiling as I slide into the booth across from her.

“You’re not going to search me this time?” she asked in mock disappointment. When I said nothing, she continued: “I knew it wouldn’t take you long to raise the cash. Let me see it.” She sounded excited. Like a kid at Christmas.

“Where’s mine?” I said.

“Show me yours first.” She giggled. “Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” she continued in a mocking, sing-song voice, followed by more giggling. There were moments such as this one—though they seemed not to be too frequent—when this girl seemed like she was actually YOUNGER than eighteen.

“I don’t trust you, you little…”

The girl smiled at me. “You’re not the one holding the upper hand here, Mr. C.”

Wishing I could strangle the little bitch, I reached into my inside coat pocket, removed the thick envelop and slid it across the table.

She kept the envelope close to her body as she carefully removed the stack of bills and began counting them. I sat there, humbled, as she quickly flipped through my hard earned bills with the deftness of a casino dealer. I watched her beautiful young lips move slightly as she silently counted bill after bill. What a delicious mouth, I thought, almost in a trance. My mind wandered to the memory of sticking my cum drenched fingers between those lips and wiping them on her warm tongue. My cock stiffened at this thought, despite the pain I was otherwise feeling at watching my money flying away through her speeding fingers.

“One hundred bills,” she announced gleefully when she finished counting. “Perfect.” She took a sip of her Diet Coke and smiled at me.

She then stuck the envelope into her book bag and, at the same time, produced a manila envelope which she placed on the table between us. “What you want is in here,” she said.

I took the manila envelope in my hands. There was something soft inside. I opened it and peaked in. I recognized them immediately: the delicate, pink thong panties that the girl had been wearing Friday night. I wanted to take them out of the envelope and examine them, but realized obviously that I couldn’t do that on the table top of a public restaurant. There were probably already busybodies watching us, wondering what a middle aged man was doing with a teen girl. I was hopeful that they assumed we were father and daughter. Why wouldn’t they? Why was I feeling so guilty? Anyway, pulling out a pair of thong panties for public display would not have been cool. Instead, I put the envelope in my lap, beneath the table top, and removed the contents carefully, keeping them hidden from anyone who might be watching. I glanced at the girl and saw a bemused expression on her pretty face as she sipped her Diet Coke through a straw. I twisted the tiny feminine undergarment around until I found the inside of the crotch. And there it was: a small but telltale sign of dried sperm, as plain as the nose on my face.

I shut my eyes and sighed as I placed the panties back into the envelope and stuck it in my inside coat pocket.

When I at last opened my eyes, the girl was still watching me intently. She had almost finished her drink. “Well,” she said. “I have to go. My mother will be waiting for me. She’s still super pissed about Friday night.”

SHE’s pissed? I thought.

The girl began to slide out of the booth, but then she stopped. “Mr. C?”, she said.

“Yes?”

The girl’s face suddenly seemed to redden slightly. If I hadn’t known better I would have sworn that she was blushing. “If…if you ever want to fuck me with my eyes open, give me a call. I’m only $300 an hour. Much cheaper than what you spent the other night.”

My mouth must have gaped opened, but I was utterly speechless. I stared at the girl stupidly. I literally could not believe what I had just heard. “Huh?” I said dumbly, finally managing a word.

The girl smiled. “You heard me. $300 an hour. It beats the hell out of what I get for babysitting!”

She scooted completely off the bench and stood. I looked up at her in disbelief. “Are you…are you sure you’re only eighteen?” I asked.

She giggled. “Yes. Why?”

“If you’re like this at eighteen, what the hell are you going to be like at thirty?”

“Rich,” she said, and briskly strode away

For the next two weeks I was actually quite busy and really didn’t have too much time to think about Brittany or dwell on the painful loss of my $10,000. I did mention to Ashley that I didn’t think she should hang out with Brittany any more, but my daughter came to the defense of her friend. “Dad, just because she wears revealing clothes? Really! Get with the times! I wish you’d let me be more like her.”

“No!” I shouted the word much too emphatically, and Ashley looked at me in astonishment for a long moment before charging out of the room. I couldn’t very well tell my daughter that I had confirmed evidence that her friend was a $300 an hour whore. So I dropped the issue.

It was after those two weeks that Ashley had some friends—boys and girls, she had told me—over one Friday night. I came home late from a business dinner and could hear them downstairs. I went straight to my bedroom, took off my clothes, and got into bed with a book. But I had trouble concentrating on reading. I was wondering if Brittany was one of the invitees that at that moment was under my roof? Suddenly, I couldn’t get her out of my head. I realized I was horny. My normal love life was showing no promise. As I say, I had been very busy, and had had no time to devise any plan to get laid with a normal woman.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Brittany. “If you want to fuck me with my eyes open”, she had said. “Just call me. $300 an hour.”

Suddenly, the thought of that intrigued me to no end. I put the book down and reached for my cell phone on the bedside table and for the first time looked at the pictures I had taken of the girl that night in the motel room. I should have downloaded those photos by now to get them off my phone. Put them on a memory stick or something. It was stupid to keep porn shots of the girl in my cell phone, for Christ’s sake! What was there about her that made me do stupid things?

The photos were fabulous. There she was, in progressive stages of undress, until she was finally stripped naked and laying before my lens in gloriously unladylike positions. My penis swelled.

I went to a dresser drawer where I had hidden the girl’s panties. Another stupid thing was probably not having burned the fucking panties right away. I went to my bed and lay down with the panties in my hands. I could barely hear music coming from my daughter’s party in the basement. It seemed like it had gotten softer. Was the owner of these panties down there at this very moment? I was dying to know. I turned the bedroom light down low and reclined naked on the bed. I put the pink panties, unwashed since last adorning the crotch of a lovely sixteen year old hottie, over my face and began to masturbate. “Call me,” I moaned to myself as I stroked my hardened cock. “$300 an hour…you can fuck me with my eyes open”. I fantasized that for $300 an hour she would probably wear whatever I requested. Her cheerleader’s uniform? Maybe her Catholic school girl outfit, with those short plaid skirts and white shirt with necktie? For $300 she would also surely suck my cock, a cock which now became bone hard in my hand as I envisioned that lovely mouth enveloping it.

In my fantasy, after sucking my cock in her cheerleader’s outfit, Brittany got on her hands and knees with her cheerleader’s skirt hiked up over her naked ass. She looked around at me with wide open eyes. “Fuck me like a bitch dog!” she cried.

I came in a tremendous explosion that sent hot cum squirting onto my chest, some of it as far as my neck. I lay there for a long while, feeling the pleasurable afterglow of my ejaculation, breathing through the panties of the girl to whom I had just masturbated. I was hearing the music coming from the basement. It seemed softer still, and suddenly I was convinced that there was a teen sex orgy going on down there, led by the little whore Brittany and involving my own precious daughter. I pulled the panties from my face and used the scanty undergarment to wipe the mess off my chest. I then reached for my cell phone on the night table to call Ashley and demand that she break the party up. But I hesitated after dialing and before pushing send, and then let the phone drop. I continued listening to the slow music as I lay in the darkness, convinced that my daughter was losing her virginity at that very moment, but feeling oddly benign about it. My ejaculation had mellowed me considerably. I soon fell asleep listening to the music.

The next day, a Saturday, I dialed Brittany’s cell phone. My palms were sweating. I felt like a high school kid, which made sense, really, since it was a high school kid that I was calling. The girl again obviously recognized my number on caller ID, for her first words when answering were: “What took you so long, Mr. C?”

THE END

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