Message-ID: <20778eli$9903260428@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: "Joanna De Brito" Subject: {Joanna} Too Hot to Handle (MMF) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-type: text/plain 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: <19990325151014.55041.qmail@hotmail.com> Standard disclaimer: Over 18s only Too Hot to Handle by Joanna (joanna_de_brito@hotmail.com) March 1999 Copyright 1999 Joanna de Brito All commercial rights reserved. Non commercial use of this story is permitted as long as I am kept informed of that use by e-mail and all author and copyright messages remain intact. It was time to admit defeat. Neil Wyatt pulled into a small parking lot and stared over at the small guesthouse that stood murky in the darkness. Outside, the elements had gone berserk. A cloudburst was battering against the glass of his window, hitting it with all the fury the heavens could muster. It was stupid to travel further. The windscreen wipers had fought a valiant battle to clear a route through the deluge but had failed gloriously. Neil switched off both them and the engine and the relative silence came as a merciful release. He grabbed a small overnight bag from the back seat and scrambled out of the car. God, where was this place? The house seemed desolate. Did anyone actually live here? This was going to be some bore of an evening! A single bulb lit Neil's path to the solitary building. Suddenly, there was a mighty gust and the groaning trees behind him creaked to the accompaniment of the wind's roar and the wild fluttering of leaves. It was a hell of a night! The buffeting and the rain momentarily stalled him. For several seconds Neil could make no headway against the force of the wind, but then it dropped abruptly and he was free to climb the two dripping steps to the open porch. Flaking in one of the rain beaten windows was a wooden sign on which the single word VACANCIES had been daubed in an unsteady hand. Promising! But was there anyone in? Neil took hold of the rusting knocker and slammed it down hard. A hollow echo reverberated from deep inside. Christ, he shivered as the wind spat rain once more at his face. Christ, where was this place? Someone was coming. The light in the hallway had been turned on and he saw the shadow of an approaching figure through the frosted glass. The door opened and a toothless old man looked out suspiciously. "Aye?" was all he said. "Do you have a room for the night?" Neil shouted above the howl of the storm. "Aye, we got rooms," the old man said slowly. He moved aside and Neil gratefully stepped in. "What an evening!" Neil exclaimed, staring down at himself and his wet suit in amazement. "Look at me! I'm wet through!" The old man seemed unimpressed. "If you want a room it'll be twenty pounds: cash. And all moneys is paid in advance. I always insist: cash in advance." Neil nodded his acceptance. "No problem," he said pulling his wallet from his jacket pocket. He withdrew one of a number of crisp twenty-pound notes and passed it to his host. The old man took it suspiciously, holding it up to the dim light. "Breakfast is served downstairs," he said, finally pocketing the note and watching closely as Neil placed his wallet back into his pocket. "Between seven o'clock and eight thirty. And don't bother to come if you're late. We don't put up with no stragglers." "That'll be fine," Neil said, picking up his bag. "I won't be late." "Right then, good. Mary Ann will show you to your room." For the first time Neil noticed that they were not alone. A girl of about seventeen or eighteen was standing at the far end of the hallway and was watching them furtively from the shadows. Immediately she caught Neil's interest; there was something wild and earthy about her, an untamed savagery that grabbed him about the groin and squeezed with gusto. Her mousy hair hung untied and unbrushed about her face and shoulders. She wore a loose mustard colored top and beige shorts that had been scythed with scissors to a very indecent length. But best of all, from the natural bounce of her breasts he could see that she wasn't wearing a bra, her nipples made small bumps in the fabric of her top. Neil was a sucker for a girl without a bra: there was something deliciously naughty about it and he found himself staring unashamedly at her chest. "Take the guest upstairs and show him a room," the old man was saying to the girl. Neil was still staring at her bust. "Hurry, mind. You got chores still to finish." The girl glared back at him defiantly. "I don't want to do no chores," she said sullenly, chewing upon her thumb and remaining where she was. "I said you were to take the guest upstairs," the old man said with an edge to his voice. "Then you go and finish those chores." The girl pouted. For a moment they both stood irresolute, a clash of wills: she wanted to defy him, Neil could sense it. He could feel the tension, but suddenly, for whatever reason she crumpled under his gaze, strode forward, and without uttering a word she snatched Neil's bag from him and began ascending the stairs. "And I done the chores already," she called back defiantly. But she didn't break stride or turn or in any other way acknowledge the one to whom she was talking. Neil realized that he should be following her, and quickly did so, enjoying the naughty thoughts that surfaced at the sight of the long bare legs and wriggling backside mounting the stairs in front of him. Those shorts! Whoever had cut the length could not have known. Not only could he see right up her legs, he could also see the lower part of her cheeks! Maybe this wasn't such a bad place to have stumbled upon, after all. She led Neil to a cold dusty room that was part way along a short dingy corridor; she kicked open the door and escorted him in. He switched on the light: a single bare bulb that hung in the center of the room. Neil looked round, imagining that perhaps he'd been caught in a time warp: for the furniture, the carpets, the decoration, they all seemed to have been plucked straight out of the 1940s. You could sell this place on its period charm, he thought, if only 'charm' for this room was not such a lie. Mary Ann carelessly dropped his bag on to the floor and crossed to the window. Outside the windstorm was driving the rain into sheets and tossing it against the glass. She drew the curtains and suddenly the illusion was complete: he had been transported into a different world. "Are you married?" she asked curtly. "No," Neil replied, casually opening the bathroom door and looking inside. "No, I'm not married." "There's, there's hot water in there," she called after him, suddenly more cheerful. "And it's got a shower!" "Yes, I can see that," Neil sighed, noticing the torn curtain and the ingrained dirt. "It's a nice shower," she called out. "I use the shower in there sometimes." Um! He held that thought; it was a pleasant one. She had a good figure; he imagined her naked in the shower cubicle, that right now he could spy on her through the torn curtain; could see her rubbing lather along silky thighs, into the crease of her buttocks. He imagined he could see her reflection in the cracked mirror, the water running down her breasts, dripping from her distended nipples. In this dream he wanted her to turn, he wanted to see her pussy, but at the same time he was frightened that if she did so she would see him looking and would scream for help. "Perhaps we could take a shower together." He jumped out of his reverie; she had come up behind him and had whispered the words into his ear, totally disconcerting him by the abruptness of the suggestion. Had she sensed what he'd been thinking? He blushed at the thought. "What? No. Maybe, maybe another time." He couldn't believe what he'd just said. A sexy teenager had just offered to shower with him and he'd turned her down. "You got a girlfriend, then?" she asked ruefully. She pulled her top tight as she said it, making the material stretch and defining clearly the outline of her breasts underneath. This was stuff dreams are made of. The girl was trying to seduce him. Why didn't he just take her in his arms and kiss her? He might go his whole life and never have a stranger make a play for him the way Mary Ann was doing. "No. No girlfriend," he replied. "Then you're gay?" "No. Not gay either." She crossed to the bed and sat down upon it, bouncing up and down as if to check the springs. Obviously satisfied, she then rolled to the center, one of her tits almost escaping in the process. "I like this bed," she exclaimed, sprawling upon it luxuriantly. "It's all soft and comfortable. I come here to get way from Gramps, and sometimes I'll settle down and play with myself. You know there's room for two in this bed?" The problem, he had to admit, was that he'd never had experience of a woman who was this forward, who was so sexually aggressive and therefore he was in unknown territory. He knew what he wanted to do; he wanted to pull off her clothes and get in that bed with her; but did she understand the consequences of her little game? After all, she was barely more than a child. He had a nagging fear of her crying rape as soon as he responded. And how would that go down at home in leafy suburbia? Visions of police sirens and prison cells stayed his hands. "I feel horny," she said abruptly. "Would you mind if I played with myself now?" The question caused an image to flash into his mind. He pictured her nude body writhing on the bed with her legs open, her fingers stuffed inside as she brought herself to orgasm. He knew he would not be able to resist if the image became reality. "But why do you need to resist?" a dark voice inquired from deep inside him. "Why don't you just give the lady a little of what she's after?" He managed to defy that voice. "Don't you have a boyfriend?" he asked in an attempt to change the subject. "I had plenty of boyfriends," she asserted sullenly. "I'm sure you have," Neil replied. He unzipped his overnight bag and pulled out his suits. "You must be very popular: you're very pretty." "Pretty? Only pretty? Don't you think I'm sexy?" She bolstered her tits in an effort to make a better impression. "Gramps says I'm really hot." He stared at the decolletage thrust out towards him. "You're very desirable," he couldn't help himself saying. She was silent for a while. She watched somber and broody as Neil hung his suits in a small wooden wardrobe. "There's not many men come by here," she sighed finally. Neil paused. "I guess not," he said sympathetically. It was an apparently insignificant comment, but it gave Neil his first real inkling into her thinking. He put down the suit he had been holding and sat down on the bed beside her. "So why don't you leave? Go somewhere with a bit more life?" "I'd like to. But how would I go?" She then spoke more eagerly. "Would you take me?" He was about to answer, to promise her the world and more besides when the old man called from the bottom of the stairs. "What you doing up there Mary Ann? You leave the man alone hear! He don't want you bothering him." "Down in a minute, Grandpa," she called back. But she made no effort to leave. She sat waiting, so Neil asked, "Who else lives here?" "No one. I don't see no one. Not never. It's just me and Gramps." "You must get lonely," he sympathized. She agreed emphatically. "Highly lonesome. Sometimes I get real horny for a man, know what I mean?" The dark voice inside told him to grab her in his arms and rip off her clothes, but that was not his style. He moved close, looking deep into her eyes. "I know what you mean," he whispered. "Do you think I'm sexy?" she whimpered, her innocent eyes shimmering as they stared back into his. "Would you take me away from here?" "I said you were to leave the man and let him get some peace." The old man stood bent double in the doorway. Physically he was frail and weak, but he held a dominating presence in that doorframe. Mary Ann immediately jumped up from the bed, scowling and straightening her clothes. "I was just helping the man settle in," she protested. "I can see what you is doing," her grandfather snarled in rebuke. "When I tell you to do chores, it ain't time to play nooksie." "I done the chores, Grandpa," she whined. "You done the chores when I said you done them. Now get down them stairs!" She threw Neil a fleeting plea that communicated despair mingled with frustrated lust before spinning round and departing. As soon as she was gone the old man relaxed. "You must be hungry," he said easily. "Grown man like you. We got plenty downstairs. When you got settled you come down and Mary Ann will make you supper." "Thank you," Neil said. "That's very good of you." The old man's craggy face broke into a crooked grin. ************************************* "That was excellent," Neil said, pushing away his empty plate. "Thank you very much." The old man looked over expectantly at Mary Ann, and she obediently came and removed the plate. Neil watched her go: those legs just as long and bare as they had been earlier. "You don't have to hide the way you're looking," the old man said. "The way I'm looking?" "I see you and your lusting looks. But it don't bother me." Neil reflected. "I see," he said finally, his manner terse and deliberate. "But you is thinking about upstairs. I see it. You is thinking about what I done: when I caught you affectionate. What bothered me there was Mary Ann hadn't done the chores." "Of course," Neil responded briefly, not wanting to be drawn into a debate. "She's a very pretty girl." "Pretty!" the old man expostulated. "I know what you mean by pretty! But it won't do you no good. Mary Ann is way too hot for your kind." Neil didn't understand. "My kind?" "Yep, your kind. You city folk is all alike. You eye up Mary Ann, but you can't handle the beast in her. She's too much the animal for you to sex with." Neil protested. "Look, despite a lot of goading from her I haven't so much as laid a finger of your granddaughter." "I daresay. But you'd like to. You'd want to run your hands all over her naked titties; I seen you can't keep your eyes off them; you want to grab them and hold them. You want to run your hands down inside her knickers and to stroke her cunt." Mary Ann had come back. "Gramps?" "Shush, girl, can't you see I'm talking? You want to take her to your bed and have your way with her. But I got to warn you Mr. City Man, she may look just a girl, but she handles like a woman." Neil played with a loose cotton on the front of his shirt. He couldn't disagree with anything that the old man had said. He did want to hold her naked body and fuck her, but the issue he now had to face was whether he was prepared to openly admit it. "I'm telling you, stay away from her. You can't handle her." "Gramps," Mary Ann cried in anguished desperation. "Don't say that. It makes me cry!" He took her gently by the shoulders and looked into her tear filled eyes. "It's for your good," he explained softly. "He's a townie. How many times have I told you they're no good? They can't handle you." He swung round to Neil. "You don't believe it, do you?" he demanded, sensing his confusion. Neil at last allowed himself to be drawn. "If you say that Mary Ann is, er, lively, then why should I disbelieve you?" "We is not arguing about Mary Ann. We is arguing about you." Mary Ann was beseeching him. "Don't upset the man, Gramps, please!" "So what are you saying?" Neil asked, his temper beginning to rise. "Are you saying I can't satisfy a woman?" "Of course you can't! You're a townie! Townie's don't make a woman happy!" "And I suppose you can? There's more to satisfying a woman than giving her an orgasm. Do you think Mary Ann is happy here? She's alone and lonely and sexually frustrated: I'd say disturbed even. Christ! Who can blame her? When she's got no one to talk to except an old goat like you!" The old man smiled smugly. He seemed pleased by his success in baiting his guest. "So you reckon you can make Mary Ann happier in your town than I can here?" "A thousand times yes!" "You reckon she'd be happier in a city with city folk than here with me..." "Gramps, you know I would," Mary Ann interrupted. "I keep telling you." "Happier with men closer to her own age than with her Gramps..." "Yes, I do sir," Neil agreed. "And perhaps you think you are better at making her happy in a sexy way than I can?" This suggestion caught Neil off guard and he was disgusted by it. "What are you suggesting?" he exploded. "That's incest! Is that what you do? You're her grandfather for Christ's sake!" The old man smiled triumphantly at him. "You're right stewed, isn't you, boy? But don't boil away. We're not related by blood, Mary Ann and me. I raised her yes, she calls me Gramps because, because that's what I am, and I'm all she's got, but she ain't tied to me by blood." "Oh." Neil was deflated and confused. "Townies!" the old man exclaimed jubilantly. "I'm seventy eight years of age and I can please Mary Ann twice as much as a townie like you." "This is foolishness," Neil protested. "There's no need for this to get personal." "Foolishness, eh? You think I'm an old has-been, but there's things I can do that a lad like you can't." Neil smiled, but it was a mistake. It incensed the old man. "You think I'm just an old fool," he bellowed. "Don't you boy? Well, why don't you put your money where your mouth is?" "How's that?" "Three things. All you got to do is try and copy me. If you can do all three, then I'll let Mary Ann sleep with you. How's that?" Neil was aghast that he was willing to trade Mary Ann in a bet, but his cock began to harden; it didn't have a conscience. "What about Mary Ann?" he asked. "Doesn't the lady get a say?" The old man merely sneered at him. "The lady, as you call her, is itching for it, ain't you Mary Ann?" She scowled at him. "I said ain't you, Mary Ann?" Reluctantly she nodded. "I heard you, girl," he jeered at her. "I heard you what you said. Room enough in the bed for two, you said. I know what you gets up to in that room. I even watches you at times. Well, maybe you'll get your wish; maybe you'll get to fuck with the man. I'll even let him take you away if he does it, how's that? But then, don't hold your breath." "What does he have to do?" Mary Ann asked him eagerly. "You'll really let me go? He'll do your three things for certain." "Not so fast, girlie. The man hasn't told how he'll pay if he loses." "Loses?" "If he can't copy me in them three things." "What sort of payment are you after," Neil asked him. "The contents of your wallet," the old man responded immediately. "Now I don't know what's in there, whether it is much or whether it is little, but whatever it is, then it's mine if you can't copy." Neil considered the proposition carefully. "None of these three things involve anything dangerous? Or illegal?" he asked. "No sir. Not in the slightest." "And no special skills? Nothing I wouldn't know how to do?" "Nothing but what comes natural." "But sexual? These are sex acts?" "Three simple sex acts," the old man agreed. "And no one else is involved?" "Only the three of us here in the room." "And Mary Ann won't have to do anything against her will?" "No, sir. You is really stalling. Are you game or not?" Neil considered. "Let's do it," he said, holding out his hand. What did he have to lose? How was this old man going to be able to do anything sexual that he wouldn't be able to copy? He had as good as won! The old man beamed. He seemed exquisitely happy. Immediately he began directing matters. "You just get comfortable on that chair," he said to Neil. "Because for the first thing, Mary Ann's got to take her clothes off all sexy like and we both got to watch it. Do you think you can do that, Mr. City Man?" Neil nodded confidently, hiding a rather smug smile. "I think I can manage that." He was now convinced that the old man was going senile. The first of his three tasks was to watch Mary Ann undress, for Christ's sake! Did the old man really believe that this was such an enormous challenge? "How should I do it, Grandpa?" Mary Ann was asking. "Put yourself on some music," she was told. "One of them bad ones I usually tell you not to play. Then do an undressing dance like you do when you get real horny. That'll do nice." There was a childish excitement about her as she pulled an old LP record from a shelf and slipped the record out of the sleeve. Christ, Neil thought. He hadn't seen an LP for years. The music started playing. It was an old Abba number, "Dancing Queen", and Mary Ann immediately began swaying to its beat. "Go over there and stand by the fire," the old man told her. "Give yourself some room, girl." She began to jive to the music like the dancer in the song, but added her own little variation, holding the bottom of her top and pulling it tight across her breasts. She felt pleased with herself; she liked showing herself to men. Mary Ann moved confidently, though perhaps a little clumsily. She was doing what pleased her without embarrassment or coyness; neither did she feel shame for it was not something she had been taught. There was a flush of excitement about her countenance; it was a thrill to be exciting, to be abandoned, to be wild. She shook her hair across her face. Neil's cock was now pleasantly hard. He reflected that Mary Ann clearly found enjoyment in her breasts because her hands rarely left them for long, as she danced she held them, milking them, squeezing out towards the nipple. She pulled up the top and looked down at herself. She seemed to like what she saw, licking a finger of each hand and then using that finger to stroke a nipple. "She can make herself cum doing that to herself, five or six times sometimes," the old man said to Neil. "Doing nothing but feeling her titties." He then spoke to the girl. "Mary Ann, take off your top. Let the man see you properly." She lifted it over her head, allowing her breasts to spring free. "You seen anything like that, boy? Come up close, Mary Ann, let the man see you proper." Gliding across the floor, she stood as close as she could to Neil, wanting him to want her. Her tits were in his face, he could reach out, he could touch them, and no one could stop him. She was that close! "Don't be shy, Mister," the old man was teasing him. "Mary Ann, she isn't shy. Undo her shorts, I know she'll like it." In a daze Neil reached forward and pushed the button through the hole. There was a zip beneath it; he took hold of the zipper and pulled it down. Fuck! She was wearing nothing underneath. His fingers were touching her pussy! "You not wearing your knickers, again," the old man scolded her. "You know what I been telling you about that." "But I love the roughness against my pussy, Gramps." "Knickers is easier to wash," he grumbled. "You should be wearing knickers." "But it's me that does the washing!" Mary Ann yelled, sliding her shorts down her long legs and stepping out of them. "What should you care about it?" Neil wasn't listening to their squabble: rather he was staring in fascination at her revealed pussy. The hair was sparse and he could clearly see the slit beneath. As he stared, her hand came up and she slipped a finger inside. "Don't do that," the old man demanded. "Lie down of the sofa, girl and spread your legs. The man would like to see what a real woman looks like." She sat where he directed, pulling her legs apart, and her pussy lips gaped wide allowing them both to see her pink treasures. "Now Mr. City Man. What do you think about that?" "She's very attractive," Neil acknowledged. "Very attractive!" he mocked the words. "She's much more than that! She's far too hot for you, lad. Let me tell you the second task. I want you to lick her cunt until she cums. Do you reckon a townie like you can handle that?" Neil nodded, still hiding an air of smug self-confidence. "Yes. I think I can do that." "Till she cums, mind." "I understand." Mary Ann's breathing had accelerated already. She lay back with anticipation of the pleasure to come. "Now I don't want you to say I cheated," the old man said. "So I let you choose. You can either do it to her first or you can do it to her second." Neil calmed himself and thought about it rationally. What if there were some trick, some technique necessary to make her cum that he didn't know about. It would be better to go second so that he could watch the old man do it and then copy him. On the other hand, it might be harder to make her cum a second time. But he didn't believe that could be too difficult. She seemed a healthy young woman who was only too eager for it. "I'll go second," Neil said. The old man smiled. Neil panicked. Had he made a mistake? He watched carefully as the old man bent down and took hold of Mary Ann's haunches and pulled her in. He kissed her gently on her clit and she gasped in pleasure. "Do it, Gramps," she cried. "Do it to me, please, Gramps." Neil watched as the old man used his tongue to play with her. It darted back and forth; flicking her clitoris as it passed. Mary Ann groaned in pleasure, helping herself towards climax by caressing her breasts. Neil remembered what the old man had said; she could bring herself to climax several times doing that alone. With the help she was also receiving from below, what problem could there be in completing the task? Neil shifted himself to make his swollen cock more comfortable within his underpants. Mary Ann was staring at him and at that lump in his trousers; her eyes were glazed: seeing but unfocused. She was close now; he could see it. Her face was a picture of ecstasy, she held her breath savoring each sensation that the old man's tongue induced. Then she came, her body arching, rocking from side to side. She was certainly an exhibitionist; even now she was gazing at Neil, feeding off the arousal her climax brought him; finding excitement in being exciting. Then as her orgasm subsided, she collapsed back on to the sofa, recovering and drawing deep breaths. The old man rose to his feet. "Now it's your turn, boy." Neil was now relishing the challenge. He knelt down and took the other's place between Mary Ann's legs. He got his clearest view yet of her cunt and the light brown hair that grew there. She was certainly hot. He could see the moisture of both her perspiration and her arousal and he could smell her sweet aroma as he kissed her gently on her outer lips. In response her legs wrapped themselves round his neck and pulled him further in. He allowed his tongue to explore, to hunt along both her outer and inner lips, tickling around her clit, gauging when he had found the most sensitive places by the involuntary squeezing of her legs. "Oh, he's good Gramps," she cried. "Yes, do it, lick me, lick me out." Obediently Neil sucked, pushing her closer and closer to her second orgasm. He felt the throb of his own erection. Not long, he thought, only one more task. Then we would be able to sink the agony of his erection into the calming nectar of her cunt. It tasted good to his mouth; it would taste even better to his cock. She would be his to explore and own. "I'm cumming, Gramps," she cried. "He's making me cum!" Her body arched, her cunt was raised from the sofa once more as she tensed, and her enveloping legs lifted him with her. He continued to suck, to kiss, to flick at her clit and she pushed herself and it even harder towards him, desperately seeking a final release. She groaned: her breathing fast and her torso twisting. This was it, he had done it: she was cumming. He had no choice but to ride the storm with her, his head carried by the contortions of her constricting thighs. Then suddenly she sank back; he could hear her rapid breaths begin to slow, she had cum; the second task was completed. The hold of her legs loosened and he disentangled himself from her, sitting upon the floor only inches from her dripping cunt. He looked at the old man who was smiling his toothless grin. "She's too hot for you, lad," he smirked. Neil was angry. "Just get on with it. What's the third task? I've got the measure of you." "I don't think so." The old man crumpled his lined features into a lopsided grin. "You better get out that wallet Mr. City Man. Let me show you the third thing, bet you can't copy this!" He unfastened his trousers and lowered them. Neil watched in morbid horror as he fished inside his underpants and pulled out his cock. It was small and wrinkled and flaccid and the old man bent it easily in two. "Now you just do that," the old man smirked as Neil reached for his wallet. "I told you she was too hot for you." Mary Ann stared at the burning erection visibly apparent in Neil's trousers and screamed in frustration. "I hate you Grandpa. I just hate you!" Too Hot to Handle by Joanna (joanna_de_brito@hotmail.com) March 1999 Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----