Message-ID: <15134eli$9809100539@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: sundance69@hotmail.com (Sundance Tales) Subject: (Sundance Tales} NEW! 'The Fan Man' [1/1] (Voy, F-solo, F/M, Teen) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.stories.erotic Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <35f70ee3.616185@enews.newsguy.com> ''The Fan Man' by Sundance Copyright, 1998 : All Rights Reserved First Published: 9/9/98 ==================================================================== This is my second posting ever on USENET. If you caught my first effort, 'Amy Visits for the Summer', you'll recognize differences in the approach to that story and this one. Those differences were intentional, in that I am experimenting with different story lengths and varying degrees of emphasis on plot and character development. If you didn't catch that one, it can be retrieved from my web page referenced below. One additional note. If you've already read this story on my web page, it has changed, albeit slightly. The changes are not significant, but were instead focused in minor clean up of sentence structure and hopefully a subtle improvement in flow and ease of reading. The web page version will be updated accordingly. If you like this story or don't like this story, could I make a shameless request? Drop me a line and let me know. I'm not at all ashamed to say that external feedback is what keeps me motivated to write. Comments / criticisms are always welcomed provided they are constructive and provide opportunities for me to improve. I can be reached at: sundance69@hotmail.com Or visit me at http://extra.newsguy.com/~suntales Please don't repost unless you repost all parts of the file, including this intro and the following disclaimer and NEVER post it on anything other than a non-profit venue. Lastly.... Enjoy! Sundance +==============+Now the disclaimer +=====================+ The following is a work of total fiction. The characters, names, and places are all products of my imagination and any resemblance to anybody or anything, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This story contains potentially obscene terms and sexually explicit content that some may find to be offensive. If you are offended by such material, or if you are under 21 years old, you have the option to stop now and not continue reading. By continuing to read you are making the following legal statement: I am over 21, I want to view a list of potentially obscene terms, and it is legal for me to view potentially obscene terms in my community, state, nation or province. If you're not sure... STOP now ..... Delete this text ..... This isn't being forced on you. +=====================================================+ I was looking forward to this time off. 'Use it or lose it', the boss's words were loud and clear when referring to my leftover vacation from last year. The kids were in school and the wife was swamped at work, which left me with some quiet days and lazy afternoons. I had a list of 'honey dos' I was working through, but I would get to those later. I looked at my watch and realized I had just enough time for a nap before the Andy Griffith Show started. I was two steps away from a comatose state within five minutes of stretching out on the sofa. Just as I was sinking into some serious REM, expecting to wake to the sound of Andy and Ope whistling as they made their way down to the fishing hole, my afternoon dreams where shattered by the piercing ring of the telephone. I clamored for the receiver, knocking it off the hook and grappling around on the floor before finally lifting it to my ear. "Hello," I mumbled out of a groggy stupor. There was an annoying silence on the other end of the line. "Helllooo," I repeated. There was still nobody there. I was just about to throw the phone or hang it up, I hadn't decided which, when I opened my eyes and realized I was speaking into the earpiece. "Shit," I mumbled out loud, turning the receiver right side up before making one last attempt at conversation. "HELLO!" "Craig?" "Um... yeah?" "Craig, it's Cynthia. Did I wake you?" "Oh Hi Cynthia. Uh ... yeah" "I did wake you? I'm sorry" "NO! I mean... never mind", and I chuckled. "What can I do for you?" "Well, I know you're on vacation this week and probably really, really busy, but I was just wondering if you could do me an itsy bitsy, little favor." She was using that sweet voice of hers, not to mention the words 'itsy bitsy'. I wasn't fooled. This was going to be a big favor. "And what favor would that be, Cynthia?" "Well, I bought these ceiling fans and the guy at the store talked me into buying some fancy light switches that will turn on the fan without the light and vice versa. Anyway, I was just wondering..." "You were just wondering if I could install those ceiling fans and fancy light switches for you this week while I'm on vacation, weren't you?" "Oh you're such a smart man!" "Oh Cynthia, you're so full of it", and we both laughed. "Of course I'll do it, but won't be able to get to it today". "Oh of course not", she commented after a brief pause. " It's almost time for Andy Griffith, isn't it", and she snickered. "You're on to me" "Actually, later in the week would be better anyway", she added. "We can pick a time when you can have the house to yourself. I'll leave the key in the usual spot and you can just let yourself in. Deal?" "Well...on one condition. I'll be looking for my usual compensation" "One of my world famous chocolate cakes will be waiting for you on the counter" "Then I think we have a deal" "You really are a sweetie, Craig" "I know Cynthia - I know". I could hear her smiling through the phone. ***** Actually, I didn't mind doing such favors for Cynthia, even if it did cut into my vacation. She is my next door neighbor, a good woman, a hard working woman, who has been dealt a tough hand from life. Her husband Frank passed away a number of years ago unexpectedly leaving her with challenges far beyond coordinating home improvements. If I could make her life easier by helping out with simple tasks like the fan installation, I was always willing to do so, vacation or no vacation. The challenges Cynthia faces as part of day-to-day life are only made tougher by the fact that she has to face them alone. These days her biggest concern involves her oldest daughter Karen, now 17. Her concerns regarding Karen are not the typical problems most parents have to deal with. Luckily, Karen has stayed far away from the pitfalls facing many teenagers like getting involved with drugs and alcohol or skipping school. No, Karen's problem, if you want to call it that, is that she is a voracious flirt with an insatiable appetite for male attention. The good news, I suppose, is that Cynthia is convinced Karen is more 'flirt' than 'action'. Still, I can see her concerns. If there are such things as 'chick magnets', Karen is the original 'stud magnet', and Cynthia is right in assuming that a lot of men caught in her tractor beam will likely have single-minded intentions. Karen stands about 5'6 in height, with a flowing mane of naturally curly blonde hair, striking blue eyes, and the cutest set of dimples this side of a Shirley Temple movie. Her shoulders are slender, as is her waist, which makes her otherwise average bra size seem slightly larger in proportion to the rest of her frame. At the tender age of 17, her infatuation with male adulation is nothing short of obvious. Loathed by the neighborhood wives and relished by the husbands, her biggest claim to fame involves the hot summer afternoons when, sporting her bright orange bikini, she lathers her body and that of her bright red Toyota in the driveway of Mother's suburban home. Males wander from the furthest reaches of the neighborhood to glimpse at Karen bumping and grinding to her stereo while kneading and scrubbing with her oversized sponge. Gasps can be heard as she reaches so far forward that one of her blue deck shoes leaves the wet pavement, all the while pretending not to realize her tiny bathing suit leaves little to our wanting imaginations. The wetter the car would become on those hot summer afternoons, the wetter Karen would become, and the more it seems her silver dollar shaped nipples might pierce through the wet material of her thin bikini top. She would grab that big wet sponge with both hands and squeeze hard until pools of soap would gather on the car's surface. With her legs locked at the knees, she would lean across the hood and move the sponge in slow, methodical circles, rocking her narrow hips and tight bottom to the rhythm of the music. Knowing Karen, I'd bet each stretch, each scrub was choreographed. She knows exactly the effect she has on men and loves every second of it. Myself, I try desperately, but usually unsuccessfully, to stay inside the house on car washing days, but always find myself sucked into Karen's web like every other male within a country mile. I do have one advantage, in that living next door affords me the masquerade of pretending to handle some household chore or a car repair while I watch the white foamy suds trace like lava rivers down her young, tanned form. Like my peers, I marvel at how the thin material of her bikini top barely clings to her ample young breasts. It doesn't seem possible that there is enough cloth to hold in place that much cleavage and, on several occasions, I've waited for her breasts to burst free, to dance and sway for my admiring eyes. I'm wrong, of course, as the material remains strained, but always in tact. The worst part usually comes when I get so consumed watching Karen I don't notice her watching me, watch her. The routine is always the same. She turns to face me, a bundled strand of her hair dangling in front of her pretty face. A heavy breath flings the hair to one side without the use of her hands, followed by that sexy smile and innocent greeting. "Hi Craig! Isn't it a great day", like she hasn't noticed my lecherous glances. "Hi yourself", I always reply, followed by a pair of flaming ears, ripe with embarrassment. "Hey, you can start on my car when you're done". I really should think of something more original to say. Still, she always laughs at that lame reply, like it's the first time she has heard it, even though I say it every damn time I got caught ogling. To make matters worse, It's usually about that time that Cynthia arrives home or comes out of the house and notices her nubile young daughter in all her sudsy glory. "Karen! Can't you put some clothes on when you're washing the car? You might as well be working at a nudist camp!" she always complains. "Oh Mom -- But it's so hot out here", is Karen's usual reply, almost always followed by a knowing smile tossed in my direction as if to ask why I don't jump in to argue the case for bikini car wash day. Yes, Karen is quite the force to be reckoned with, and I'm sure, quite the handful. I confess. Even though I sympathize with Cynthia's plight, I too would like to have my hands full around our dear Karen. **** Cynthia and I agreed to do the fans later in the week. Thursday, to be exact. That was the best time to do the installation without people trekking in and out of the house. She would be at work all day, the younger daughter was spending the night at a friend's house, and Karen had cheerleader tryouts and wouldn't be home until late. I grabbed my toolbox and made my way next door, finding the key under the mat and the cake on the counter, just as she had described. I briefly surveyed the house, checking the back bedroom where one of the fans would be installed. The house Cynthia had bought was fairly old and the light fixtures were not going to support the weight of the fans she had purchased. I would have to get up in the attic and install some reinforcing brackets before I even thought about how to address the wiring for the fancy light switches. I found the fans still in unopened boxes in the same room. As I checked everything out I was pleasantly surprised to see the ever-suggestive salesman had included the reinforcing brackets I needed. I inventoried the necessary tools to ensure everything was in tact before setting out to locate the attic access point. I found the porthole in a walk in closet just off the guest bedroom. I positioned my ladder and, with my trusty flashlight in hand, climbed up to explore the crawl space. The batteries in my flashlight were running low and the light emitted was dim, if almost non-existent. Once in the attic I had to navigate my way around the tight crawlspace in near darkness without any real idea where I was. I had decided the first fan would go one of the girl's bedrooms so I made my way due north to that general section of the house. Not completely sure if I was in the right place, I could see a trace of light seeping around the edge of an air conditioning vent. I loosened an attached duct and pulled it back so I could see if I was in the right place. The slats of the vent were a good three-quarters of an inch apart, which made it easy to see down into the room below. I could tell it was one of the girl's rooms and not Cynthia's, but I wasn't sure which one. There was a pink ruffled bedspread with a series of stuffed animals all neatly aligned and posters of some rock band I'd never heard of on the walls. I continued to scan around until I spotted on the dresser a picture of 'Mr. Quarterback', Karen's latest boyfriend. This was the right place, all right. However, it was clear I'd have to get these damn batteries in this flashlight replaced before I could make any real progress on the fan installation. I started to back out of the crawlspace when I heard the front door open and close. That was odd. Somebody was home. Within moments the stereo was on and judging from the type of music playing, I was pretty sure it wasn't Cynthia. The phone rang a couple of times and I could hear somebody answer it, but still couldn't make out who it was. The mystery was solved within a few moments when I saw Karen enter her room carrying a shopping bag and yapping into a cordless phone. Now what the hell was she doing home? Surely Cynthia would have told her I was coming over to do the fans. Oh well. I'd just sit tight, as I was sure she'd be leaving any second for cheerleader tryouts. I watched quietly as she reached into the shopping bag and pulled out some type of outfit wrapped in plastic. With the phone clutched between her shoulder and ear, her conversation never slowing, she tore through the packaging and laid out the individual garments on the bed. It was a red and white striped cheerleader's uniform with the high school insignia emblazoned across the front. Confident, aren't we, I thought to myself. The try-outs aren't until this afternoon and you're already buying the uniform? Typical Karen, ever the optimist. From her side of the phone conversation I guessed it was one of her girlfriends on the other end of the line. "Yeah, he was over the other afternoon." Pause. "Well, what do you think we did???" Giggling. "Yeah, it's this afternoon. That's where my Mom thinks I am now, at try outs". More pauses. "No, remember, I don't need to. I was varsity my sophomore and junior years so this semester I'm automatically in. I picked up the uniform today. Looking at it right now. It's really cute. I can't wait to try it on". Neither can I, I thought to myself, thinking ahead to a time when I would get to see that little 'hardbody' coming to and from practice in that skimpy cheerleader outfit. God what a lecher I was. Finally, with the call ended, she returned to admiring the outfit on the bed when the phone rang again. "Hello? Well. . . hellllo there birthday boy", she purred, in a little sexy little voice similar to how her Mother asked for favors. Must be Mr. Quarterback. I doubted any conversation with Mr. Quarterback would be a short one and thought it a good time to get out of here. This attic is hot and I'd rather be sitting in my recliner, sipping a cold Coors and watching Jerry Springer than listening to this teeny bopper swoon over some jock. I'll just wave on my way out and tell her to call me when she leaves so I can finish the fans. Hopefully I don't give her a heart attack. I started to back out of the attic when I sensed a change in Karen's voice inflection and in the topic of conversation. My curiosity peaked and I scooted on my stomach back over to the air conditioning vent and peered down into her room. At first I thought she had left. Then, as I looked around, I noticed her in sitting in a type of sprawled position on a nearby chair. She was leaning back, holding the phone in one hand, while using the other to curl and uncurl her long blonde hair. Her seated position provided a much-improved view over her roaming around the room. She was wearing a thin white cotton sundress with large blue polka dots. The dress seemed to be a half-size too small, as it hugged every inch of her slender frame, leaving very little room for extraneous movement. Two thin spaghetti straps connected the front to the back. Again I noticed how large her breasts seemed in proportion to her frame. They seemed much too developed for a teenager, I was sure of that. Just like in the bikini, they seemed to be fighting for freedom. The top two buttons of her dress remained undone, providing a teasing and very provocative view, especially when looking down from above. The white of the dress perfectly accented the golden tan she got from spending so much time washing and re-washing the car. As she relaxed in the chair, the short one-piece outfit raised up, providing a very erotic view of her shapely athletic thighs. Her one knee was bent; the other extended, which left her legs slightly spread, revealing intermittent flashes of her white panties. I knew looking down on her secretly like this was so wrong. It was a complete invasion of her privacy and I knew it. But honestly, as wrong as this was, it was so arousing. I could feel the stir in my trousers as my imagination raced with erotic thoughts of young Karen. In my private fantasy I could see myself entering her room as she spoke on the phone and whispering for her to keep my presence a secret to whoever was on the other end of the line. I envisioned a mischievous grin crossing her sexy mouth as she watched me approach, slowly descending into a kneeling position in front of her. I could see in my mind's eye her legs parting as I pushed up her short skirt. I could imagine starting at her muscular calf muscle and using my mouth to work my way up her thigh, one succulent inch at a time, until I was able to run my teeth over the moist cotton of her white panties. I could imagine how she must taste as I pulled to the side the thin strip of material that shielded her sex from my wandering tongue. The more I looked down at her, the more my mind raced... and the more aroused I became. "Did you have fun the other night", I heard her sigh into the phone, a broad smile crossing her lips as she teased Mr. Quarterback. Again there was a pause. "You know what I mean -- did you have fun?" More pauses, but this time the pace with which she was playing with her hair quickened and she began to stroke it with the palm of her hand. "Uh huh...Uh....huuuhhhh". Her words were slower now and more drawn out. I couldn't hear what they were talking about, but judging from her reactions it sounded pretty intimate. She released her hair with her free hand and began to unbutton the front of her sundress. 'Oh, yes baby', I thought to myself, my eyes growing wide in anticipation. 'Take -- it -- off'. Again wedging the phone in between her chin and shoulder she used both hands to finish the remaining buttons, pulling open her sundress to reveal her firm, gorgeous breasts. She was tracing the fingers of her free hand along the edge of her lace bra and then down across her nipples as she began to rub her thighs together. She continued purring into the phone as she used her free hand to work loose the front fastener of her bra. I couldn't believe this was happening. Now I was stuck. Not only could I not tell her I was here, I'd be a fool to announce my presence at a time like this. "Cmon baby, keep going", I heard myself whispering out loud. "Yeah. . . . And then what will you do to me", Karen moaned into the phone. There was no mistake where this conversation was going. With her bra undone, I watched her raise her bottom far enough off the chair to slide her panties down her thighs. She bounced the cotton briefs on the end of her painted toenails for a moment before flinging them off to an area of the room I couldn't see. She leaned back in the chair and spread her legs revealing a blonde patch, glistening slightly with traces of wetness. By this point there was no turning back. I was so aroused, watching my fantasy girl begin to pleasure herself, without a clue she was being watched from above. I couldn't look away as she slowly ran her free hand up between her slender thighs. Her entire palm crossed over her crotch in gentle stimulation. She began slowly, running her fingers inside her moist opening, in and out, back and forth in gentle strokes. This continued, speeding up, then slowing down, entering deeper, her facial expression one of intense, erotic concentration. "Yeah, baby, yeah... and your mouth...what would you do with your mouth," Karen moaned. Her breathing was getting louder and her breasts were heaving upwards as the pace and rhythm of her fingers quickened. Her round nipples were standing at attention and she would pause briefly from stroking between her legs to squeeze hard and tug at her sensitive points, leaving them even more erect with each pass. Eventually she clutched the phone with her chin so that one hand could work her breasts as the other massaged her steaming pussy. "Ohhhh...godddd...oh yeah...oh yeah... I...I think I'm going to cum", she gasped. She almost couldn't finish her sentence as her hand continued working, faster and faster, the tides of her orgasm beginning. Her moans became louder, her entire arm was now moving in frenzy, her legs stiffening straight out and spreading wider. I moved back and forth in my attic-hiding place, trying to find some relief by rubbing my hardened cock against the rafter as I watched her cum. The waves of her orgasm caused her to thrash about in her seat, her hips rocking up and down against her imaginary lover. She was pretty much a screamer. I could imagine Mr. Quarterback's ears were hurting from all the noise, but then again, he was probably keeping busy himself on the other end of the line and didn't mind. The whole orgasmic scene seemed to go on and on, until finally, her movements slowed. Still, it was obvious from the look on her face that she had more to cum. "I want you RIGHT now Jeff. I NEED you. How fast can you be over here," she whispered, finally resting from her pleasure. There was almost no pause this time. I sensed it didn't take him long to answer. "Ok, hurry. Oh yeah, I've got something for you too.... I'll give it to you when you get here", and she hung up the phone. She leaned back in the chair with her eyes closed, her bare breasts heaving upwards towards me, her tanned legs were still spread in front of her. I was transfixed on her form and almost didn't notice as she opened her eyes, staring upwards towards the ceiling, then to the general area of my attic hiding place. "Shit!", I mumbled to myself, quickly rolling on my side so she wouldn't notice me peering down through the vent. My heart raced with a mild state of panic. A few moments passed and I heard her stand, likely on her way to calling the cops. Slowly I leaned across and looked out the edge of the vent. I breathed a sigh of relief, as it was obvious she hadn't seen me after all. She was moving around the room, just as she had been doing before the call. "Whew, was that ever a close one", I mumbled out loud. I rested for a moment than peeked back down into her room. She pulled back on the shoulders of her sundress and let it fall to the floor, followed immediately by her bra. She was standing nude next to her bed, her fingernail clenched between her teeth as she looked around, seeming to contemplate her next move. I watched with anticipation. Her body was everything I had imagined. Firm, young, yet so well developed. My moment of desperation when I thought I had been discovered was long past. This whole experience was so sexually charged it had left me mad with desire and I waited with painful anticipation for whatever would happen next. She moved to the bed and picked up the garments individually, putting on each layer of the cheerleader uniform, not bothering with her panties or bra. She grabbed the accompanying pom poms and proceeded over to the full-length mirror located in the corner of the room. She bent over slightly, posing, before launching into what must have been some team cheers, swaying her hips, bending down, and lifting her leg above her head. All I could imagine was pulling up that short skirt and taking her from behind. I wanted that little girl so bad right now. Each time she moved I caught a fleeting glimpse of some part of her bare anatomy. The whole scene, the tease, was driving me crazy. I was squirming in my limited space, my mouth dry, my breathing heavy, wanting so badly to find relief. I could only lie still and watch for so long. Sooner or later I would have to get out of here or die of erotic torture. Suddenly the doorbell rang. Mr. Quarterback had arrived. She left the room to answer it. I first thought that would be the last I would see of her and would have to lie here in the attic until one or both of them left. However, it was only a few moments and the two of them returned to her room. She grabbed the pom poms and did a little dance for her guest. "How did you get over here so fast", she asked in between cheerleading moves. "I borrowed my Mom's car. Told her it was an emergency". They both laughed out loud. "I was just trying on my new uniform. Do you like it?" "I especially like it with your boobies sticking out like that", referencing the hardened outline of Karen's nipples pressing against the sweater material. 'Boobies', I thought to myself. I remember when I used to call them 'boobies'. Ah, the joys of youth. "So do you want your birthday present now, or later", she quizzed him. 'Skip the present exchange, dude', I thought to myself. 'Jump her bones already'. Obviously not listening to me, Mr. Quarterback elected to receive his gift now and Karen went to the closet, returning with a gift-wrapped box. He opened it and held up a shirt that was larger than normal. He was probably hard to buy for. He was a big kid and obviously spent quite a bit of time in the gym. Your typical stereotype, buffed out, football jock. As he continued to admire his gift, she returned to the mirror to look at her reflection. No denying, she was sexy as hell, but I wasn't sure who was having more fun admiring her attributes, her or me. "So I have another birthday present for you", she purred, examining herself in the mirror from top to bottom in the sexy cheerleader outfit. "What's that?" "Well...I picked today... ". She paused and turned to him. "To do that thing with my mouth you've been wanting me to do". My jaw practically dropped. "Would you like that?", she whispered innocently. Jeff Quarterback was leaning against the wall now, his muscular arms crossed in front of him, smiling. "You know I'd like that" She strolled over to him, dropping the pom poms to the ground along the way. Reaching him, she started with her hands on his shoulders, running them slowly down his chest until she reached his belt. Clenching handfuls of his shirt material, she worked it loose from inside his pants and helped him to pull it up and over his head. I was right about his gym work. He was a pretty classic specimen of the male species. Tarzan-like, with large, well-defined shoulders, a ripped midsection, and a broad chest; the type of guy who could easily pass for a contestant on American Gladiators. I watched as her eyes became hungry over his physique, digging her fingernails into his exposed flesh. She began to slowly work loose his belt while he reached forward lifting her short cheerleader skirt, just now realizing she was without panties. "Hmmmm....you're ready for me", I heard him growl as he started mouthing her neck. He gripped and massaged her bare buttocks with his strong hands as she worked steadily on his buckle. Unbuttoning his pants she dragged them down and he sprang forward, only partially aroused, but not for long I was sure. Standing in front of him she took his man-sized cock in her hand and began a slow, methodical stroke. His moans were loud and I found myself hoping that, in his youth, he could last, as this was just starting to get good. She left his cock unattended only for a moment while she helped him step out of his jeans. Finished with that, she stood to face his nude body, running her fingernails slowly down his chest. He was fully erect now and she grabbed his thick shaft and led him like a pony across the room and into a seated position on a cedar chest located near the opposite wall. Why she chose that spot to work him over instead of say, the bed, I wasn't sure, but I couldn't have planned the whole situation better. I could see directly down from above and had a perfect profile of her kneeling in front of him while his stiff cock raged towards the ceiling with anticipation. Karen shuffled up between his legs. She looked up in his eyes as she grabbed the bottom of her cheerleader sweater and pulled it up, but not off, revealing her firm young breasts and erect pink nipples. She moved closer, carefully brushing her tits against his huge erection and she began to lick the underside of his neck. Finally, she leaned back admiring his swollen member as she gripped in once again in her small hand. "I'm not sure how to do this", she sighed with uncertainty. "I'll guide you.... It's easy". For such a macho guy, he was very gentle with his words. "Just start by kissing it" She leaned forward and brushed her thin innocent lips across the head. He was already wet and she paused to brush aside the goo that had started to form on her lips. She used her hand to clean aside the rest of his pre-cum before resuming with her mouth. She began slowly, kissing him, the way you might kiss a sleeping friend; gently, yet with affection. This went on for a few moments and she eventually opened her mouth a little wider, taking in a bit more of the head. The view was astounding. She was on her knees, her sweater pulled up to just below her neck, revealing the profile of her firm breasts as they brushed against the inside of his thighs. Her cheerleader skirt was hiked up slightly and the cheeks of her bare, tight ass were clearly visible. She had one hand resting on his knee for support; the other gripped tightly around his throbbing dick. She would periodically throw her long curly hair to the opposite side of her head to avoid it getting in the way of her mouth, which was perfect for helping me to take in every erotic detail of this private lesson in cock-sucking. At first, as she continued, I thought she might stop. Being as young as she was it takes time to truly enjoy giving, as well as receiving, oral pleasures. But she fooled me. Continuing slowly, with each third or forth kiss, she would take a bit of his cock in her mouth. I watched as his well developed thighs began to quiver against the floor as she opened her mouth still wider, sliding more and more of his shaft down her throat. She eventually paused, clearly out of breath, but careful not to leave him wanting for long, using her hand to pump and maintain his arousal until she was ready to resume. "Are you liking this", her strained words in between breaths. "Am I doing ok?" "Oh baby, yes. Can you... maybe... take a little more of it in your mouth", his whispering plea. "I'm trying, but you're so big. Jeff, this is making me so hot -- I don't know how much longer I can keep it up" After her last rest period she had lost track of any inhibitions. I don't know how many times he had tried to convince her to go down on him before, but I bet he wouldn't have to beg next time. She was into it, and in a big way. He was too thick for her to take all of him in her throat, but her oral strokes were now long and luxurious, reaching at least two thirds down his girth. She moved her hand up to work the base in unison with her mouth, stroking, sucking, and stroking some more. In the course of several minutes this girl had gone from an insecure amateur to practically a starring role in a feature length porn video. I could tell from the look on his face and the trembling of his limbs that he was close. "I'm going to cum baby", his staggered words. She stopped immediately and stood up in front of him. His dick throbbed, but he held back his ejaculation. "Not yet...not until I do", she responded. "Well cmon then", and he tried to pull her into a straddled position on top of him. "No, not yet. Where is your Mom's car parked" "Out in front, why", his voice clearly irritated. "You need to go move it. The neighbors will see it and know you're here. They'll tell my Mom. Go move it around the block" "Cmon Karen". He was starting to whine. "Let's just finish this and I'll go move it as soon as we're done. I swear". "NOW Jeff", she ordered in a scolding voice. "I'll be here when you get back". It was almost laughable watching this 5'6 little girl exert so much control over this 6' foot plus he-man. He stood up, pouting, threw on his pants and shirt, and stomped out like a small child who had just been sent to his room. Gone now, she stood and pulled down her cheerleader sweater. She moved to the mirror and began straightening her hair and brushing the saliva from around her mouth. "Who would have known", she asked the person staring back from the mirror's reflection, "that sucking cock could be so much fun." I smiled as she continued to talk to herself. "I mean, if I would have known it was that much fun, I wouldn't have held out so long, -- you know what I mean Craig?" I froze. What was that? It sounded like she said my name. I watched as she stopped her primping and turned to face upwards towards the air conditioning vent, her hands on her hips. Again, I rolled on to my side and out of view as fast as I could. "HEY! I'm talking to you up there!" I shut my eyes for a moment and tried to think. She knew I was up here, but how could she know? How long had she known? What was next? I rolled on my stomach and slowly looked out the slats of the vent, which probably looked a lot like the jail cell I would be peering out of some time soon. Seeing my face reappear behind the vent, she continued talking as if I was sitting right there with her. "I mean, he's been begging me to do that for some time and I just thought it was gross. But I kind of liked it. Do you think I did a good job? I mean, HE obviously liked it, but what did you think?" She just stared up at the vent, waiting for me to answer. "How did you know I was up here", I finally spoke, not addressing her original question. "Well... you're not exactly discrete, Craig. First of all, your ladder is hanging half way out of the guest bedroom closet and that access thingy for the attic is sitting on the floor. I thought you had already been here and left, until I heard you rolling around up there and all that heavy breathing when I was -- uhm, uhm", and she cleared her throat, "talking on the phone". She started to giggle. "At one point I was looking straight up at you. Didn't you notice?" "Well actually, I thought I did. Why didn't you say something? I would have left, or at least given you some privacy. I figured if you heard me up here I'd scare you to death" She had returned to her primping in the mirror, but continued to talk. "Oh, you're harmless and I figured out a long time ago how much you like to watch. I mean every time I wash the car you're out there pretending to be fixing something in your front yard. A couple of times I thought you were just going to whip it out and do yourself right there. You probably would have felt a lot better…. Mr. Blue Balls," and she started to laugh. I felt myself blushing. "Well, I'm sorry. I'll leave before your boyfriend gets back". I started to inch my way out of the attic. "You can stay if you want!" she called out to me. Then in a quieter, slightly embarrassed voice, "I mean... I really don't mind. I was sort of having fun knowing you were watching. It was kind of turning me on." I scooted back up to the vent and looked down at her. "You didn't MIND me watching?" The skepticism was obvious in my voice. "Why do you think I had him sit right where you could see, not to mention making sure my hair was pulled to the side so you could - you know, get the full view" I couldn't believe this was happening. What I was hearing? I wasn't sure how to answer her, but I thought this was a good time for me to act somewhat responsible. "Karen, I better go. This was wrong and I'm sorry" "Suit yourself", she said, acting disinterested. However, I could sense something else in her voice -- an uncertainty, a subtle form of embarrassment. She was trying to act tough with me, tough beyond her years, but her stern exterior was cracking. If I didn't know better, I would have thought she really did want me to stay. I continued to stare down at her. "Karen, like I said. Hiding up here was far from intentional." I paused. "I won't lie. You're a very sexy young lady and I'm glad you're also sweet enough not to have me arrested. But, like I said, this was wrong and I should go now, before anymore damage is done". She finally looked up at me. "I guess", and she paused, as if she might not finish her sentence. "I guess I just thought you might like to stay and watch us fuck". She couldn't make eye contact with me, but was obviously waiting for my answer. I was dumb-founded. Stay and watch her fuck? I don't fucking believe this! I remained silent. "Well, would you", she asked in an irritated voice, finally looking up at me again. "Answer me!" "Well, honestly -- sure Karen, I'd love to stay and watch you fuck", more sarcasm evident in my voice. But then I heard myself take on a more serious tone as my last words just hung in the air. "But... Well... Will you tell anybody?" Oh great, now I was starting to negotiate. Insanity had sat in for sure. "Oh right...Who am I going to tell? Certainly not my Mom and if Jeff found out he'd string us both up. Of course, I could just pretend I didn't know you were there, act really scared and mad, and then you'd be the only one getting strung up" "Good point", I replied and we both laughed. "Look, if you want to stay, I'll even let you come down out of the attic and hide in my closet. You can really see good from there" This was not happening. I must have been dreaming or experiencing an acid flashback. I paused, thought about it, and figured, as Tom Cruise once said when referring to similar Risky Business -- "Sometimes you've just got to say, 'What the Fuck'. " "I'll be right down", my last words as I scooted backwards out of the attic. "Ok, I'll get ready for you", a weird sound of excitement in her voice. I made my way down the ladder and into her room. She was just coming out of the closet. "There, I set up a seat for you. Oh yeah, use this, " and she handed me a dishtowel. "I'll kill you if you get anything on my outfits" "Are you sure you want to go through with this?" At that moment we both heard the front door open and close. There was no time for her to answer. She pushed me quickly inside the closet, shutting the doors all the way until there was only a thin opening from which I could peer out. She jumped on the bed and assumed a waiting position as Jeff entered the room. "There you are...we thought you would never get back" "We -- who's we", Mr. Quarterback chuckled. "It's just you and me here, babe" "Of course it is", she mumbled, pulling him on the bed and starting to undress him again. "Of course it's just you and me." THE END -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----