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For fuck’s sake, were are they teaching these young girls these days?
If she wasn’t eighteen, I’d eat my fucking tie. Though, looking at her now, the way she perched on the edge of my bed with one leg tucked up under her, grinning that sly, feline grin, I had to wonder if she even cared about laws, or if she was simply waiting for someone to bend them for her.
I poured her another inch of wine. My wife always joked that I poured heavy, not light, but with this little minx, I found myself wanting to see just how red her lips could get, how glossy her eyes. She took it, swirling the glass like a practiced sommelier. She was wearing my son’s hoodie, sleeves dangling past her wrists, but that was all—the hem barely covered her ass, and each time she shifted, it rode up higher, showing smooth thigh and the faintest flash of white cotton between her legs.
“You’re not nervous,” I said. It came out flat, not really a question. She giggled.
“Should I be?” She sipped. “You’re the one acting nervous, sir.”
I almost choked on my own grin. The way she said sir, like it was a dare. She watched me with those eyes that were too old for her face, as if she already knew how this would go, as if she’d already decided what would happen eight moves from now.
She leaned back against the pillows, one hand trailing over her stomach, drawing the hem of the hoodie higher, high enough to see the goosebumps pebbling her skin. She was bare under that sweatshirt. No bra. Nothing but a pair of cotton panties with tiny blue bows on the sides, the kind that looked like they’d come from a cartoon. Somehow that made it worse.
Or better.
She stretched, long and slow, and her thigh brushed mine. The television in the next room was still blaring—the laugh track, the canned voices, and under it, my son grumbling at whatever he was watching.
There was something fucked up, delicious, about this. The way she kept glancing at the door, but never looking worried. The way she licked the wine off her lip, like she knew I was watching.
I set my glass down. “Does he know you do this?”
She tilted her head, playing coy. “Do what?”
I reached over and slid my hand up her leg, just past her knee. Her skin was warm, soft as peach fuzz, and she didn’t flinch. If anything, she opened her legs just a little, like she was offering herself up for a taste test.
“This,” I said, squeezing a little. “Getting into bed with older men?”
She purred. There was no other word for it. “Of course he doesn’t. And I like keeping him clueless. Your son is kind of…” She tried to find a good word. “He’s fun, you know? But that’s all.”
I chuckled, low and mean. I’ve always been a selfish man, and this time’s no different. My hand wandered higher, thumb tracing the edge of her panties, feeling the shiver in her thighs. “So. Are you gonna make me work for it, or…?”
She brought her wine to her lips, draining the rest in one daredevil gulp. “How about you show me what you can do, and then I’ll decide if you’re worth it, sir?”
The little brat.
I liked her even more for that.
Finally, my son brought home a good one.
I leaned in, catching her mouth with mine. The kiss tasted of cherry wine and insolence; she bit my lip, just hard enough to sting.
Her hands found my belt, nimble fingers working the buckle before I’d even parted her knees. She was greedy, in that way. She wanted to be touched, devoured, but only on her terms, only if she could make it seem like her idea. Well, two could play at that game.
I palmed her ass, dragging her closer, pinning her down into the mattress so she couldn’t wriggle away. She squealed, muffled against my mouth, and her legs wrapped around my hips. That hoodie bunched up under her ribs, so each time she moved, her tits peeked out from underneath, perfect little handfuls with nipples already hard as marbles.
She grinned, breathless, when I broke the kiss. “You’re a lot rougher than your son,” she whispered. “I like that.”
“Yeah?” I yanked her panties to the side, fingers slipping between her folds. She was soaked. She gasped, arching her back, both hands flying to my shirt to dig her nails into my chest.
I found her clit, rubbing in slow, lazy circles. Teasing her. This close, I could hear her panting, her breath hitching every time I pressed just a little harder.
“You’re noisy,” I murmured. “You want my boy to hear us?”
She bit her lip, eyes wide. She was trembling now, all the bravado melting away under my touch. “Maybe I do,” she whispered.
Fuck. Something inside me snapped at that. I shoved two fingers inside her, curling them just so, and she moaned, loud enough to make the headboard rattle. I clamped my hand over her mouth.
“Shh,” I growled in her ear. “You want him to walk in here and see you like this? Bent over for his old man? Better shut your little mouth, baby girl.”
She squirmed, grinding down on my hand, eyes rolling back. I could feel her coming apart, right there on my fingers.
She bit my palm, hard. “Don’t stop,” she whimpered, muffled and desperate.
I didn’t.
She came with a shudder, legs clamping tight around my wrist, her body shaking so hard I thought she’d snap me in half. I held her until it passed, then pulled my hand away, wiping her slick off on her own calf.
She looked ruined, hair in her face, cheeks flushed. But she smiled, baring her teeth. “Your turn,” she said, voice hoarse.
I stood, shucking my pants, letting my cock spring free. It stood up, angry and eager, and she eyed it with a kind of hungry awe. She crawled to the edge of the bed, kneeling, and took the head between her lips.
She was eager, sloppy, drooling all over me. She loved the taste, the weight. She sucked like she wanted to drain me dry. Spit dribbled down her chin, and she looked up at me, eyes glazed, as if daring me to fuck her throat.
So I did. I grabbed her hair, tangling my fist in the back of her head, and pumped into her mouth. She gagged once, then adjusted, opening wider, taking me down to the hilt. Fuck, she was good. Too good. She must have done this before, but I wasn’t about to ask questions.
Out in the living room, the television roared. I could hear my son’s laugh, muffled, oblivious to what was happening just a wall away. It made me want to ruin his little girlfriend all the more.
I pulled out, not gentle, and wiped my cock across her cheek. She gasped, catching her breath, licking her lips with a kind of grateful greed.
“Get on your hands and knees,” I said.
She obeyed instantly, arching her back, presenting herself. The hoodie rode up, baring her ass, and I yanked her panties down to her knees. She was pink and ready, glistening, a work of art just waiting to be signed.
I guided myself inside, slow, savoring the tight heat. She whimpered, pressing her face into the sheets, and I started to thrust, hard enough to make her whole body rock forward. She took it, panting, her hands clutching at the rumpled bedding.
“You’re tighter than I expected,” I said. “You been saving yourself for me? Or my son that small?”
She laughed, breathless. “Maybe both. Maybe, ah, I just like you better…!”
I smacked her ass, hard enough to leave a handprint. She yelped, but pushed back against me, hungry for more. I bent over her, grabbing her by the hair, forcing her head up so she had to look at herself in the mirror.
“You see that?” I asked, fucking her deeper. “That’s mine now.”
She groaned, eyes glazing over. In the mirror, she looked destroyed, mouth hanging open, drool on her chin. The image made my balls tighten.
She milked me with every stroke, squeezing me so tight it hurt. I reached around and rubbed her clit again, and she came for me a second time, body spasming, screaming into the mattress.
She went limp for a second, like I’d switched her off at the wall. Then she shuddered, ass grinding so hard against my hips that I nearly lost it right there. The room was dark, dim, but she practically glowed, sweat running down her back, glistening on the peaks of her tits as she struggled to catch her breath.
I didn’t stop. Not for a heartbeat. I grabbed her by the waist, both hands gripping tight enough to bruise, and pounded into her with everything I had left. I wanted to see how many times I could wring her out before that sly little brain of hers just short-circuited altogether.
She whimpered, high and desperate, her voice catching on every thrust. “Fuck, fuck, oh my god, you’re so much bigger than him—!”
I laughed at that, low, claws-out. “You like my cock better than his, don’t you? Bet you never even knew it could feel this good.”
She tried to lift her head, but I had her by the hair, forcing her spine into an arch that made every inch of her body mine to play with. She met my eyes in the mirror, cheeks burning, mouth slack. “I like it,” she managed, and then whimpered again when I slammed into her, balls-deep, driving the air from her lungs.
“Louder,” I growled. “Say it. Tell me what you want, dirty little girl.”
She sobbed, just a little, but she was smiling through it, wild-eyed and giddy. “Want you to fuck me, please, I want you to ruin me for anyone else, please, daddy, please…!”
Something in that word set my blood boiling. Daddy. So she knew exactly what I wanted to hear.
I bared my teeth, and leaned in, my chest pressed to her slick back, every motion forcing her harder into the mattress. She was so small under me, so helpless in all the ways that mattered, and it made me want to split her open and crawl inside.
“You’re such a greedy little slut,” I said, right in her ear. “My son brings you home for the weekend, and you’re already begging for his daddy’s cock. You gonna go back out there and kiss him with this dirty little mouth?”
She sighed, almost a purr. “If you want me to, daddy~ whatever you want…!”
I squeezed her ass, fingers digging in, feeling the give and bounce of her skin under my palms. I must have left a dozen marks already. I wanted her to be sore tomorrow. I wanted her to remember me every time she sat down, every time she crossed her legs, every time she touched herself in the shower wishing it was me, instead of my idiot son.
I smacked her again, just to hear the sound, and she gasped, bracing herself. The hoodie was up around her armpits now, those tiny boobs dangling down, swaying with every shockwave of my hips. I reached under her, grabbed a handful, twisted. She squealed, arching back into me, legs quivering.
“You take it so good, baby girl. So damn tight. You ever been fucked like this before?”
She shook her head, hair clinging to her cheeks, but couldn’t find words. I was pounding her too hard, too deep, fucking her into a speechless mess. I felt her pussy flutter around me, greedy, clutching, hungry for every inch.
“Didn’t think so,” I said. “Bet you thought you were so grown up, didn’t you? Parading around my house half-naked, trying to see if anybody’d notice. Turns out you’re just a cock-hungry little brat. Fucking hell, you kids these days…”
She made a sound, half sob, half laugh, her face turned sideways so I could see her eyes in the mirror. She wanted me to see her. Every second of this. Wanted to be caught, ruined, put in her place.
I shifted my angle, pistoned into her faster, not caring anymore about being gentle. She could take it. She wanted to be broken open, filled up, marked as mine. I reached around, two fingers pinching her clit, rolling it between knuckles slick with her own mess.
She nearly screamed. “Please, daddy, don’t stop, I’m so close, please make me cum again, I need it, please, please, please!”
I could hear the TV still, the canned laughter, my son’s voice yelling at the screen. He was so close, so fucking stupid, and his girl was in here getting turned out by the man who made him. I couldn’t help myself—I talked louder, so she’d know, so she’d remember this every time she heard his voice.
“Yeah? You want to cum on daddy’s cock while my son’s in the next room? You want him to hear you get fucked dumb?”
She nodded so hard I thought her neck would snap. “Yes, yes, I want it, please, daddy, please, I’m yours, I’m all yours…!”
Her cunt spasmed, milking me, and I felt her gush all over my cock, her whole body seizing up, toes curling. She shook like she was being electrocuted, and I clamped a hand over her slutty little mouth so she wouldn’t scream too loud now.
I didn’t last three more strokes. She was so hot, so tight, that I emptied everything into her with a growl, burying myself so deep it felt like I was fusing with her spine. The orgasm hit like a car crash, all violence and shock and no warning. I ground my hips against her, filling her up, not stopping until my balls were spent and my cock twitched in aftershocks. It felt like I was painting that pretty little pussy white with my cum, and the little girl took it all.
Maybe she was raised right. Or maybe she wasn’t.
She slumped, arms giving out, face mashed into the sheets. Her ass was stripy with red, decorated with my fingerprints and the shape of my palm. I stayed buried in her for a long moment, savoring the mess, the obscene fit of her, the way she trembled with every pulse. I wiggled my hips as the last few spurts of cum shot out of me, turning to a slow drip, like caffeine in the morning. My muscles hummed. I was spent, but I felt so fucking good. Better than I had in ages, felt like.
“Ah… ah! Daddyyyy~” She half-moaned and half-giggled as I grabbed her little waist and gave a few more deep thrusts, like I was making sure to wring us both out.
“Atta girl,” I said. “Atta fucking girl.”
When I finally pulled out, she whimpered, shifting so she could collapse sideways. Her breath came in shallow, greedy little wheezes. She smiled up at me, dazed, lips swollen. There was cum smeared down her thigh, glinting in the lamplight.
“Look at you,” I said, voice soft now. “Daddy’s little girl, huh?”
She rolled onto her back, panting, laughing softly. “You really are better than him,” she whispered.
I wiped sweat from my forehead. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”
But she just smiled, lazy and satisfied, and pulled the hoodie down to cover herself. She didn’t bother with the panties.
“Can we do this again tomorrow?” she asked.
I grinned, pouring her another glass of wine. “As long as you keep calling me Daddy.”
She giggled, clinking her glass to mine. “Deal.”
Outside, the TV kept blaring, my son oblivious. But in here, the air was thick with sweat and sex, the kind of secret that could ruin a family, or make it stronger, depending on how you looked at it.
I looked at her, spread out on my bed, and thought: Fuck.
They really don’t make them like they used to.