The Harris’ didn’t mind me stopping around, as I had done it for so long, and I had thought that they were both still at work. All I wanted to do was hide on their back patio and sulk for a while, but it turned out that Guy had already finished work for the day and found me sobbing like a deranged loser. (“Now, darlin’, school is important, but one failed class ain’t gonna colour the rest of your life.” He told me, as I cried like a dumb baby into his work shirt. “You’re already a smart girl, don’t worry too much about it, hey?”)
I really liked how he looked after me like a dad, because my dad could be very distant when it came down to it. I’m sure it was not dad’s fault; I knew he could be quite thoughtful. He was a quiet kind of man, whereas Guy was more outgoing and a bit of a joker.
Pulling myself up to give him a quick kiss on the chin in thanks, the old man scoffed at me when I leant back. “You’re a very friendly little drunk, aren’t ya?” He teased me and I rolled my eyes again, not wanting to pull away even though I felt him start to shift.
“Nooo, I’m just happy that you’re here. You’ve done so much for me and I’m so happy that you’re here. Thank you.”
“Oh darlin’, honestly—“ He must have started to get a little embarrassed at my cooing because he began to pull away. “It’s not a problem. You’re a good kid.”
I beamed at him and pushed up again, the shift of weight making him step backwards. I took in his face and caught his cautious look, obviously wondering about how weird it would be to be caught in this position with his neighbour’s 17 year old daughter, but I tightened my arm around the back of his neck and stood on my toes and caught him on the mouth. His lips were warm and wet, and tasted like beer.
“Thank you for coming.” I said again, barely pulling back and relishing the thrill that shot through me. I had always wanted to know what it would be like to kiss someone for a simple thank you. I had no romantic intention lurking behind my kiss, but he sort of froze and his hand fell from my bicep. My thighs squeezed together beyond my control and I pushed into him once more, back on the tips of my toes to kiss him again.
It was longer this time, and I carelessly licked the taste of beer from his lips as I felt his dead arm slink around my back. The hand with the bottle slunk up the back of my shirt and the free hand wandered down my back, and the sparks in my lower tummy started up and I had no clue what I was doing – all I knew was that it felt awesome and I had never ever gotten a feeling like the one I got from kissing Guy.
He let out a noise that made the thrills inside me explode and he stepped me back towards the counter – and when my ass hit the melamine, I felt his hips press against my tummy. I felt his tongue swipe at mine and I shivered at the contact, sucking on his tongue gently with my naïve lips. He grinded on me because of that, probably more drunk than I had realised, and I felt something hard begin to press against my belly – another low groan breathed against my cheek as he thrust himself against my bare stomach. The rub of his denim jeans against the soft skin of my torso brought a tiny sigh from my busy mouth.
I wanted to crawl onto the counter to sit, so I could feel him grind between my thighs, but when my arm left his shoulders he pulled away from me.
Guy stared down at me, blatantly horrified at his apparently bad choices, and shook his head. “We shouldn’t have done that, Hannah.” He said plainly as he stumbled back a few feet, and I huffed, crawling onto the counter to sit in front of him. Sitting like the classy lady I was, I rested my elbows on my spread knees and stared up at him drunkenly. “You don’t kiss your parent’s friends like that.” He told me.
“But it was good, right?” I grinned at him and his face fell.
“What would Katie think if she found out, sweetheart?” The excuse sounded weak but it made me feel instantly horrible.
My heart fell and my face must have as well, because he got a very sorry look on his face and took a long gulp of his beer. He finished the rest of it and pulled it from the stubby holder, taking his eyes from mine to read the label he had probably read a thousand times over. “Don’t worry,” He said, looking back over at me. The feeling returned in my lower tummy and my legs squeezed together instantly, and his eyes widened at my response. “I won’t tell her.” He stumbled over his words, “I won’t tell your mum or dad either. We just keep this between us, alright?”
I nodded, and he nodded, and left me there to feel kinda bad about myself. After I finished what I had originally set out to do, finding out that I was absolutely dripping and my undies were soaked, I headed back out to my friends until mum called me from the balcony. Katelynn and Guy were heading home for the night, surprisingly early, and I had to go say goodbye.
The exciting throbbing between my thighs flared up again and I halted all conversations with my friends to meet the couple at the bottom of the stairs. I gave Katie a big, drunken hug and a kiss on the cheek, just to make sure Guy knew I was being incredibly lovey with everyone, and turned to the man I had probably scarred for life. Giving him an un-suspiciously normal-lengthed hug and a quick kiss on the cheek, I thanked them both for coming, and watched them retreat down my driveway.
The next week or two, I went without spending any time with my father and Guy. Usually I would lurk around when they spent time in the shed, listening to their weird old music from the 70s, but I gracefully avoided them by spending most of my time in the air-conditioning playing on my computer. When I wasn’t holed up in my room like a prisoner of war, I was out with my friends, so I wasn’t really home long enough to think about what I had done for too long.
What I did know, however, is that I masturbated like crazy, considering I could see into the Harris’ kitchen from my bedroom window. Just being in such close proximity to my dirtiest secret was driving me nuts – thinking that maybe Guy would take a sneak look through my dark bedroom window to watch my toes curl whilst I thought about him rubbing his dick against me. Sometimes I thought about what it would be like to have him fuck me – but I had only experienced the touch of my ex-boyfriend’s, so my view of sex was rather boring and bland in comparison to the way that Guy made me feel.
Everyone always talked about how great sex was, but I hadn’t felt it yet, so I began to wonder if my friends were just lying to me when they bragged about how many orgasms they had with their boyfriends. The last time Kieran had fingered me, it was like he had lost a pick in his guitar and was trying real hard to get it back. I wondered what it would have felt like to have Guy’s fingers in me – apparently it felt really good when a guy touched your g-spot. I tried to recreate it with my own fingers, but I couldn’t get the right angle, so I just got frustrated and rubbed my clit to the thought of Guy coming over my house while my parents were out, and eating my pussy.
I’d seen porn, sure, and even though the girl’s eyes were glazed over with fake pleasure most of the time, I always managed to get off to a woman getting her pussy eaten. Watching them get fake-fucked and fake orgasm made me feel dirty, but since I had delved into older-man/younger-female porn, I had gained a penchant for watching the experienced mouth of a greying man tongue the clit of a sweet-faced girl. Seeing the soft hips held by big, strong hands and hearing the real moans of a woman enjoying herself while some old dude devoured her sweet pink pussy made me come harder than I had ever come before.
Some nights when I really felt naughty, I would imagine Guy crawling beneath my sheets and pulling my undies aside – wondering what his breath would be like on my tingling lips, dreaming about the first warm lick of his tasty tongue on my shivering pussy. I wanted to feel that, and I began to dream of ways to get it to happen.
Surely it was never going to happen with Guy. Every time I saw him, he looked incredibly blasé about everything, so I began to fantasize about hanging around pubs and clubs to get the attention of the drunken older men that stumbled out. I just wanted to feel some old cock in me, and every day without it made me a little bit more stir-crazy. There was only so much masturbation that could sate me – I wanted to feel it for real.
My friend invited me out to an all-ages gig at one of the local taverns on a Saturday night. I figured getting out of the house would save me from becoming such a weird-ass nympho, so I said yes. Her name was Ainslee and she was a bit of a loose girl, and by the time we got there, she was already dancing with some beefy boy by the stage. The guy she was with looked like he only worked-out his upper body, and was stumbling around on these little twig legs that made me embarrassed for my friend and her choices.
The band was alright, but I was shy and nervous – the group of hormonal teenagers would have been fun for the Hannah that lived three weeks ago. Now that I had tasted the forbidden tongue of an older man, all I wanted was to be surrounded by older men who leered at me. I was beginning to get in THAT deep, like I had become some kind of pervert who needed a release. I began to sort of hate Guy, like he had spoilt me – like I could never get it on with a boy my age again because he had ruined by sexual desires. All I could ponder was what would it have felt like to have a man’s beard rub between my thighs.
I spotted an older man by the bar, probably having had his teenage years in the 90s or something. He was wearing an 18+ wristband, so I slunk towards him – trying to look older by straightening by back and squaring my shoulders.
“Buy me a drink?” I asked him sweetly, trying to purr but sounding very much my actual age. He looked down at me, grinned awkwardly, and shook his head.
“You’re a bit too young, sorry sweetheart.”
The pet name made my pussy throb and I groaned and apologised, slinking away like a scolded kitten to hide in the corner. A few boys tried me but I refused, telling them I had a boyfriend by the bar, and they left me alone. I didn’t want their naivety – I wanted a nice old man to come take me home. There was no chance of it, no, not unless I got on some dating site and pretended to be older or something.
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