Double Dare(330)

And with a sigh, I got to my feet in the tub, like a Venus rising from the waves. It was tricky getting up gracefully, I admit, the combo of the porcelain and water made for a slippery situation, but somehow I managed it, somehow I managed to rise gracefully, my form undulating, big boobs swaying gently as my hips appeared. Rivulets trailed my creamy form, and oh god, but the liquid sluiced so that a small waterfall descended from my pussy, a gush that was part me, part bathwater.

Mr. Parker was transfixed, those eyes devouring my form, making me go hot, then cold, then hot again.

“You like?” I breathed, shaking my ass sassily. God, everything jiggled when I did that, every single part of me bumped up and down, there was so much heft, so much flesh.

And Pete remained transfixed, body tight, almost unable to inhale. If I wasn’t mistaken, the man was about to jump me again, forget his resolutions about keeping it kosher, ravage my tits and sweet pink cunt. The alpha male struggled mightily, indecision in his eyes, the way his jaw ticked as he stared some more, eating up my curvy form. But finally with a low growl, he wrapped the towel around me, the terrycloth tight around my form.

“Get dressed woman,” he commanded, “Now.”

And I giggled because the towel wasn’t quite enough to cover my assets. Sure, it was tucked securely under my armpits, but the material had risen so that my pink pussy lips could be seen below, sleek and nubile.

“Oh sure,” I giggled again, this time shaking my hips, wiggling once more so that he couldn’t help but see my engorged labia, my wetly glistening cunt. “Oh sure,” I said lightly before reaching down to pick up my discarded clothes, arching my back so he could view my slit from behind, the flesh beckoning, so sweet and succulent.

For sure he was going to lose control this time. Pete literally inhaled and exhaled a couple times, eyes glued to my vag, ready to go. But the big man closed his eyes, summoning his deepest reserves of self-control, and growled.

“Git,” he commanded, swatting my rump with a big hand, the slap ringing loud in the bathroom. “Get dressed and come downstairs.”

I yelped then, more like a high-pitched squeak. Because it’d felt so good to have his hand on me like that, the initial sting had been so shocking, so delicious. And now a burn was spreading across my ass cheek, a warm tingling feeling that made my cunt shiver, gush a little. Would there be a handprint when I looked in the mirror? Oh god, would I be able to see his finger marks on my ass? The possibility made me cream a little harder, eyes flying open with shock.

And the big man smirked at me, reading my mind. But he just growled again. “Ten minutes baby girl. Downstairs.” And with that, he was gone, the door closing without a sound behind him.

I turned to look at myself in the mirror and barely recognized the girl staring back. Because it was me, sure, but it wasn’t me. The same brunette curls and big brown eyes stared back, but there was a knowing in them now, a sense of womanhood that hadn’t been there before. I’d tasted my first sperm, shown off my body to an appreciative man, and oh god, but he’d promised me more. More, much, much more … and I couldn’t wait.





CHAPTER SIX


Pete




Holy fuck, things had gotten out of hand. I’d come home early to find my babysitter masturbating in my tub. And instead of being the better man, leaving her to do her thing, pretending nothing had happened, I’d gone the opposite direction. I’d fucking busted in the bathroom, stripped off my clothes and come on that sweet body, forcing the curvy brunette to taste my semen. Fuck, I was a dirty motherfucker, there was no doubt of it, taking advantage of a sweet teen who didn’t know better.

But I argued with myself. Mandy was eighteen now, a college girl, and had every right to do what she wanted sexually. She was in charge of her body, an enlightened being, the beneficiary of all that women’s lib stuff. Right? Wasn’t that right? But while my logical brain argued I’d done nothing wrong, doubt still lingered because fuck, when I’d been eighteen I’d been a fucking lunatic, knowing nothing, getting in trouble, sowing my seed like it was a free handout for anyone with two X chromosomes.

So being eighteen didn’t mean Mandy knew what she was doing. Sure, she’d acted like a slut tonight, the woman of my dreams, but inside, I knew the girl was different. The Amanda I knew was studious and thoughtful. The way the brunette took care of my daughter, patiently playing the same games again and again, reading stories until her voice was hoarse, cutting food into tiny little bits, only underlined how different she was from me at that age. Fuck, this girl was an angel, how the fuck could I take advantage of someone so caring, inside and out?