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Lilac: Hot, 18, Horny, Relentless!

By: NonStopFunGuy



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Author's Note: This story is a slooooowwwww, swwwweeeeet riiiiiide!!! If you are extremely horny and looking for a 'quickie' where the sex comes early and often, and the story is nothing but sex-sex-sex, then I politely suggest you read something else. This is another one of my stories with a tormenting build-up, best suited for someone who wants to be teased by graphic visual images, by a sexually-charged relationship that isn't permitted, and that eventually boils over into explosive sex. You need a little bit of time to read it, get caught up in the moment, then enjoy the thrill when it 'explodes.' So I don't want any negative comments, like, it took too long for the sex to happen. Duh, that's the POINT, stupid. Oh, alright, if you must, there is a promise of tons of sex, just wade through the opening half or whatever....! 

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The young, petite, smoking gorgeous blonde standing inside the front door of my house -- next to my wife -- had the hottest ass I'd ever seen.

Wrapped in tight jeans, my eyes were locked onto this petite, slim teenage butt, as I descended the steps from our second floor. When the long-haired blonde turned around, I saw her face: narrow, bony, with thin pink lips and wide hazel eyes, and a soft mouth that had a dainty smile. Her chest, in a tight babydoll top, sported proportionate little titties. She was truly beautiful and, something said in my head, she looked a little familiar too.

With my ever-vigilant wife of 20 years watching me join the two of them, I had to play it cool. I forced myself not to stare at the teenager's sensational body or gorgeous face, as I stood next to them.

"Honey," my wife said, her hand indicating the girl, "this is Lilac, the Morris' daughter from Broading Street, she's going to watch Tigger while we're on our trip." I actually had to look my wife in the eye as she was saying this, because otherwise my wife would see me staring at the hottie. "Lilac is going to be a Senior this year at Emerald High, I think she's quite mature enough to handle little Tigger!"

I could smell the girl, too, she was so hot. She had a sweet, inexpensive perfume that invaded my senses, almost assaulting me, but it was fucking sexy. "High school senior, huh?" I was trying to act like a normal, 40-something year old married guy, uninterested in a female under half my age. "So how's the summer going, what are you doing this summer?" I mean, we'd never had kids, I didn't really know how to relate to a high school girl -- what do you say to them to make small talk?

It was already July, the summer was a few weeks old, and the girl should have had plans. Not this one. "Um, I dunno," came her sweet, high-pitched voice, giggling and blushing a little. She wasn't looking at my face but at me, my frame. I would have liked the attention if she wasn't standing next to MY WIFE. "Umm, I just go to the pool, ya know, hang out -- have a good time, get ready for my last year."

Last year? She wasn't dying, she was just finishing high school. The perspective of youngsters, so different. It made me realize, I was probably, like, dead to her, at my age.

Suddenly, it clicked, my brain connected the random memories in my head. I recognized her, I had met this girl before -- and instantly I knew, she was that hottie at a neighborhood pool party a month earlier!

The party was in late May, just over a month ago, it had been a really abnormally hot weekend, almost July-hot. (Although, with global warming, maybe "abnormally hot" means, "the now-usual hot too early in the year.") My wife, still a member of the neighborhood community association for all these years living in our high-end suburban community, dragged me to a community party at the pool and tennis center with reportedly just about every family in the complex. I don't know a lot of my neighbors, and I didn't really want to go. Worse, the temperature was in the 90's, it was suffocatingly hot, and the "party" was really every neighborhood kid running around, screaming, splashing water everywhere.

But the good side of being at the community pool? The women, in bikinis and tight swim suits. College-age and 20-something hotties, a few of them, not many but enough to stare at time to time.

What kept my attention was this ONE girl, I had no idea who she was at the time. Looked like she had a young body, but her face suggested college-age, I wasn't sure. Long blonde hair, really long and really blonde. Small, triangular face, hazel eyes. And a fucking perfect, slim body. Petite shoulders, tiny waist, long slim legs; perky little A-cup tits, so deliciously in form with her slim figure, and a mouthwatering hot ass. Not a round ass, a flat one, narrow, bony, in the frame of her barely-curving hips. Tauntingly, the hottie was wearing a light-blue bikini -- not a thong, but a "conservative" one that covered her breasts and butt. However, clinging to her form, it didn't leave anything to the imagination. I saw the shape of her tits, and the little firm cheeks on her butt. When she moved out of the pool, fuck it, I could even see camel toe -- the shape of her cuntlips in the tight bikini bottom. As she moved around, the bottom dug into her asscrack, perfectly displaying the shape of her butt.

I watched her, flirting with teen boys, talking to the same grown man all the time. That was her father, I figured, a pretty good-looking guy himself. That apple didn't fall far from the tree. Indeed, her mom came over later, a petite short-haired blonde whom I recognized from driving down our street. I could have kicked myself, not knowing such a hot young woman lived near us.

That pool party got even better. I was in line for the snacks -- and it was a long line -- when I turned around and the hot blonde was standing there next to me, dripping wet. Beads of water curving around her breasts, her nipples were hard little bumps. Her flat tummy had water streaking down it. The water was heading down to her camel-toe crotch, right where my eyes were headed. And she was standing there, next to me. 

I couldn't resist, I flirted a little. Broke the ice about the weather, asked her where she lived, how old she was. I might have asked her name, but at the time, I didn't catch it -- now, looking back, I know why, the name "Lilac" didn't register with me. At first she was just polite, but after about five minutes, she was flirting too. Laughing at my dumb jokes; arching her back, showing off her sexy little tits on her petite frame; even staring at my body. I'm pretty fit, I have a firm chest, slightly-hairy chest, and a good-size package in my trunks. My cock twitched a little, realizing the teen was checking out my body.

That was the extent of my interaction with the hot blonde in the bikini at the pool party, but she left an impression. I jerked off thinking about her that night, and in days following. One really gorgeous, sexy little bitch.

And now, she was in my house! Here she was, her name was -- it was weird -- Lilac? Okay, Lilac. Who knew what got into her parents two decades ago, when they picked that name.

So we led sexy little Lilac into our house, showing her the living room, then heading into the kitchen and eating area. My wife showed her the vitals for our dog: where we kept the dog food and dog toys, the medicine, his leash, the emergency numbers. Wifey went through the ritual with the dog -- how and when to let her out into the back, how to take her for walks (if the teen wanted), that sort of stuff. Lilac was to come to the house, three times a day -- morning, after lunch, evening. Let the dog out, let him play around, refill his vitals. My wife didn't want our 11 year old mutt in a kennel, and she didn't trust these commercial dog-sitting services. A neighbor's daughter was far more trustworthy.

Meanwhile, I loitered around the area, just admiring the girl. My eyes gravitated to her gorgeous ass in her tight jeans, those two small orbs were tight and fit above her slim legs. Her babydoll top hugged her firm small boobies, I could easily suck those hot teen tits into my mouth. My wife had no idea of the lusty thoughts I had for our visitor, nor I figured did the girl. I kept my lewd thoughts and my eyes to myself.

Before she left, I found myself alone with her in the foyer by our front door. Wifey went off to look for the extra house key, she thought it might be up in our bedroom. I entertained the girl for a few minutes, trying not to drool. I think we met at the pool party, I told her, mentioning she had on a "very pretty bikini." Instantly, Lilac's hazel eyes got big, and her grin was seductive. "Ahhh, yeah, of course I remember you," she said, perhaps lying, but something told me she did. The sparkle in her eye, looking me over, suggested a familiarity, a memory.

"So guess what?" she said to me, giggling. When I played along, she told me she just turned 18 a week earlier. I wished her a happy belated birthday, and Lilac teasingly scolded me for not getting her a present. "Well you can make it up to me," she giggled, smiling up at my face with a gleam in her hazel eyes.

"How's that?" I asked, feeling old and dumb, just staring at her gorgeous face.

She pretended to think about it. "I dunno -- there's LOTS of ways to put a smile on my face!"

I had to chuckle at that. "Is there now?" I let the comment sit, thinking of a few ways I'd want that smile to turn into a scream of lust.

Dirty old man, I told myself. Start acting your age.

* * * * *

That night, someone benefitted from my state of arousal around Lilac: my wife.

I was so horny that evening, thinking about the divine blonde goddess in our house, that I couldn't wait to have an orgasm. Instead of beating off in the bedroom, I saved my aching tool for my wife. When she came to bed, she was instantly ravaged -- I threw her on her back, pulled her panties off, and started eating her hairy, loose cunt. "Mmm what's this about?" she inquired with a squeal, not really caring about the answer. Didn't matter to her.

Jumping on her, but picturing Lilac nude, I shoved my dick into my wife and started fucking her, pretending it was Lilac, picturing the hot young blonde. Seriously, I was so turned on, I squirted my cum into my wife's cunt after just a few minutes -- but, as I do when I'm really horny, I remained hard. I kept fucking my wife, going hard for a second round. She was impressed, remaining spread for me, letting me use her cunt to get off. She even got on her knees and let me bang her doggy-style, but her round fat ass was nowhere near as hot as Lilac's. So I thought about Lilac bending over for me, and squirted my jism a second time into my wife.

Lilac just fucking turned me on, I was realizing.

* * * * *

Two nights later, it was the Wednesday evening a couple days before my trip with my wife, I was engaged in a typical summertime chore: Lawn work. I wouldn't be around the coming weekend because of the trip, and our front yard really needed attention after a few weeks of my neglect. Edges needed to be trimmed, the mulch had to be churned and refreshed, a few weeds pulled, and the grass mowed. Sucks that I had to do it on a weekday night, and it was double sucky because of the weather. It had been in the high 90's that day, and even by evening time, it was still oppressively hot. At least the sun wasn't beating on me.

After a couple hours of work, I was exhausted, and covered in a layer of slimy sweat mixed with dirt and grass clippings. It was already 8:30 pm, but in July, that meant we still had some daylight. I left the mowing as the last chore, so I was dutifully pushing my mower around the front yard hoping to get this finished, get the tools put away, and get inside before darkness set in.

The thick, humid air mugged my senses, breathing was no fun, I was wiping perspiration off my brow constantly. I had doffed my t-shirt quite some time ago, leaving me topless and just in baggy shorts. I hated wearing a belt when I was outside doing yard work, and from having lost some weight -- I was really quite fucking fit by that point in the summer -- my shorts hung low on my hips. I actually didn't have underwear on, because with my shorts hanging low, my usual black briefs would have been visible. Not that anyone was watching a 45 year old married guy mowing his lawn at 8:30 pm at night.

Uh, check that -- I did have an audience, it turned out.

When I finished, cutting off the mower engine in the dim light at the side of our yard, I caught motion out of the corner of my eye from the sidewalk. I glanced over, and surprise surprise, there was the petite blonde smiling at me, standing there alone. 

Lilac had a beach towel wrapped around herself, from her armpits to halfway down her thighs, and the string of a bikini top arched above the towel and hooked around her skinny neck. She had a large, canvas beach bag hung over one shoulder.

When she saw me notice her, she lifted one of her small hands and gave me a little wave. "Hiya!" she giggled, sounding a little sheepish, almost apologetic for standing there.

Suddenly, I felt naked -- topless, my shorts drooping to hang so low that the thick curls of my pubic hairs were just peeking above the top edge, my chest fully on display. I had nothing to be ashamed of -- I wasn't muscular, but I'm fit and wiry, my shoulders are firm and broad, tummy pretty flat, nice salt-and-pepper curls of hair scattered over my chest plate. I never thought of myself as eye candy for teenage girls, but hell, I had grown women sometimes gazing at my physique at the pool or wherever. Its a nice rush, when someone of the opposite sex checks you out.

Using my broad arm to wipe sweat off my brow, I sauntered towards the 18 year old, finding it odd she was there. "What brings you around," I inquired in a friendly voice, pointing to her bag and towel, "you just at the pool, I guess?"

"Hee hee, yup!" She stepped off the sidewalk onto the lawn, towards me a little. "Was just walkin' home, thought I'd come by, see if, uh, if Tigger was out playing."

Part of me wished she was lying, hoping she had really come by to see if I was out. The other part of me, the married grown up, hoped she was being completely sincere. I didn't need an 18 year old coming by to flirt with me. But let's be honest, why would a hot girl her age have any interest in a married guy like me? That's what I told myself.

We engaged in some small talk, mainly as I caught my breath. She began asking about me, very politely -- what was my job, how long have I lived here, that sort of thing. If we had made a transcript, it would bore you to death. But a funny tingling in my stomach had me on edge, this wasn't a normal conversation with a neighbor. I was chatting with a sexy 18 year old blonde, wearing a bikini under her towel. But what I was sensing were her eyes. In the dim light, growing a bit darker by the minute, I could tell she was looking at my body -- a lot. At my firm chest, at my flat belly, where a path of dark curly hair led from my belly button towards the low edge of my sweat-soaked shorts.

I couldn't help it, I was getting hard, being ogled by the teenager. Seeing her eyes was not easy in the very dim light, but there was no question she was looking at my strong, broad shoulders, my firm, curly-haired chest and my flat stomach. The tent was rising, inevitably and uncontrollably, in my crotch, my seven inches of manhood pressing against the damp cloth without underwear to restrain it. I'm not totally sure she noticed; but, if I had to guess, she did.

Know what? I wanted her to. I swear, standing there in front of her like that, I was feeling guilty as fuck. Embarrassed. But, it was a rush -- a young woman checking out my fit body, and the size of the package in my shorts. Every guy likes that, right. This was harmless, just flirting, right.

"Hey," I interrupted her, waiving to the general darkness surrounding us, punctuated only by a small handful of street lights, "I gotta put the tools away."

Lilac offered to help, although, with her bag and towel constricting her movements, she wasn't going to be a lot of use. But she followed me, almost like a puppy, as I carried some garden tools and then pushed the mower back to the "shed." It wasn't really a shed, it was a small room abutting the backside of our garage, with its own door. Tucked on the side of our house, with rows of tall trees and shrubs just a few feet away on the one side, and the windowless side of the house on the other, the area was extremely private. Couldn't see it from the street or front of the house, and only someone in the backyard could see it.

I felt the girl's eyes on my backside, as I was hanging the hoe and shovel on the shed's wall. Almost like my ass had sensors, I could almost sense her gaze on my glutes. I guess I have a decent butt, it's probably not fat. My shorts were still low, just barely covering my asscrack.

Felt so wrong, yet, her gaze on me was energizing.

With only the mower left to put away, we kept talking, nestled in the grassy area tucked between the house, trees, and shed. I had half a mind to invite her in, but my wife would probably wonder what the fuck she was doing over. Already, just talking to her for ten minutes, I was feeling guilty.

But feeling frisky, too, her young eyes looking over me. While the rest of my body was weary and sweaty, my cock was hard, enjoying the female's attention.

My guard was down, I probably was willing to say things normally I shouldn't have. At a momentary lull in the boring conversation, I pointed to the pink string of her bikini visible around her neck. "That's not the bathing suit you wore at the pool party," I commented, "that one was blue, wasn't it?"

I don't know what my motivation was in saying it, but I was thinking about her in her bikini, wondering what she looked like underneath that towel. If I was saying I wanted her to take off the towel, and I'm not sure I was consciously thinking that, then it worked. Lilac giggled a little and said yeah, it was a new one. She didn't hesitate, pulling her beach towel open to the sides, revealing her skimpy outfit. FUCK, it was sexy! A bikini with a pink top and pink-and-white stripped bottom. Her perky, A-cup tits were nice little pink spheres, and the crotch of her outfit hugged her mound tightly. I could see camel toe, I mean shit, there was the girl's vagina. Her skin was a thick, dark caramel from being tanned, this white chick almost looked like she was changing races -- a darkness accentuated by the dim light we were in, with only the dirty overhead light of the shed behind me to illuminate her.

My dick got harder, eyeballing the bitch in her bikini. She dropped the towel to the grass and did a quick pirouette, showing off her backside and ass. That glorious, small ass, unfortunately covered by the bikini bottom -- it was not a thong. But it looked small and luscious anyway.

So we kept talking, just admiring each other. My eyes were on her little 18 year old boobies and the camel toe of her crotch, while she was still gazing at my shoulders, chest, and tummy -- and the bulge of my crotch. We were definitely checking each other out, flirting a little, smiling and giggling, talking about nothing like college, restaurants, and new cars.

It was definitely night now, approaching 9 pm, we'd been talking about 20 or 30 minutes I figured. My wife was going to wonder what the fuck I was doing. Thumbing the mower next to me, I apologized that I had to put it away. Turning my back on her a moment, I shoved it into the shed, pushing some other junk out of the way -- it was always a tight fit -- then softly shuttered the doors, locking them with a padlock.

When I turned back to her, she was still standing there, hands behind her back, arching her torso a little to push those young titties at me. She could tell I was admiring her, although I wasn't saying anything about it. It was just food for the eyes, that's all.


Lilac: Hot, 18, Horny, Relentless!



"Gosh, what time is it?" she suddenly blurted out. I didn't have a watch, but figured it was close to 9. She said she had to be home by 8:45, a girl friend was coming over at 9. "I'll check my cell," Lilac gasped. Then she turned to pick up her beach bag from the grass behind her. As her backside came into view again, and she bent over, I couldn't repress a moan.

Holy fuck, I was looking at her almost-nude asscheeks!

She's stuffed the backside of her bikini bottom into her asscrack, basically turning it into a thong. The flesh of her small, creamy buttocks were now exposed; the color was nearly white, highlighting a deep tan line on her hips. I mean, fuck, I had my eyes staring at the girl's exposed ass, as she was digging through her beach bag. My mouth watered, my cock was growing harder by the moment, I could sense it leaking precum.

I should say something, right, it wasn't right for her to be teasing me. Because clearly that's what she was doing, she didn't need to expose her ass this way. I was 45, married, this was so wrong. I had to be the adult and tell her it was wrong.

Instead, I stood there stupidly, gazing at her ass. She was looking at her cellphone, still bent over, a bright glow erupted from her palm as the phone turned on. She looked back at me, not standing up, past her hip. I was dead sure she was me staring at her butt. But she didn't seem to acknowledge it, instead, she sounded an alarm. "Shit, it's 9:04! Ohh, fuck!" Lilac grabbed her towel, standing up and wrapping it around herself again, hiding that glorious little teenage ass, and her nice bikini-covered tits and camel toe too. Hanging her beach bag over her shoulder, she turned to me very apologetic. "Shit, I'm sorry, I'm late, I have to go."

This couldn't last forever, of course. I had to get inside too; I had no excuse for doing yard work when it was nearly pitch black outside.

She waived at me, smiling amicably, even giving me a little wink. "I'll see ya later," the teenager purred, hopping across my lawn and heading off into the suburban night.

I was left standing there, watching, my dick aching in my shorts. That little tease was fucking gorgeous, and although I hardly knew her, I was already lusting for her.

And I felt like a creep for it.

* * * * *

The big event of the summer, starting that very week, was the 6-night vacation at a Caribbean island resort -- but in the middle of July if you could believe it. My wife's brother, her younger sister, her mom and stepfather wanted an exotic family gathering. I could see why they picked this fancy resort, but I wasn't sure about the logic of going to the Caribbean in JULY. We'd be leaving 93-degree weather for 103-degree weather.

Our flight was leaving that Friday, late afternoon. Friday morning was filled with packing and last-minute details, like getting cash for the trip, my wife's new hairdo, that sort of thing. One of the details was, my wife asked me to call "the girl," to make sure she was going to come over and let little Tigger out that evening.

Call Lilac? I was nervous just thinking about it, picturing her tits and ass on display a couple of evenings ago. I'd been jerking off thinking about since then, she was making me super-horny and I had four orgasms the day before from fantasizing about her body. So now I had to call her? I was both nervous and excited. She was turning me on -- and off -- in a multitude number of ways, all at once.

Fumbling around, my stomach queasy with excitement, I found the neighbor's number in a directory and called it. Is this what teenage boys feel like, calling a sexy girl from class? But her father answered, a stern voice. Surprised me, I wasn't expecting him. An older man calling for his daughter, I figured, would need an explanation, so I had to introduce myself. She's watching our dog this week, I told him.

A few moments later, I was on the phone with the sexy young thang. "Hiya!" she giggled into the phone, hearing my voice. "Whassup?"

I could picture the pretty blonde, smiling ear to ear. She was so alluring. The memory of her bare butt cheeks was fresh in my head, I was already picturing her naked. But I kept my voice calm, like this call meant nothing to me. "Well, my wife just wanted to make sure you were coming over today, we're leaving soon," I said.

"Sure!" Lilac cheerfully exclaimed, saying it was no problem.

My assumption was, we wouldn't see her that day -- she'd come over that evening for Tigger, when we'd already be gone. The better half of me actually hoped that would be the case, I didn't need the little vixen showing off her body to me in front of my wife. The macho stud in me appreciated the attention, and I felt revived that a girl her age found me worth of her affection, but I knew I wasn't supposed or allowed to be flirting with her.

It would just be easier if I didn't see her anymore, right? The little show in the yard the other night was much appreciated, but it was harmless flirtation. I didn't need it escalating any more.

Ah, but Lilac had tasted the hunt, and she was liking its flavor. Just past noontime, there was a knock at the front door, followed by a rustling of keys, and the door opened. I was in the TV room, watching CNN, on the cellphone trading messages with my busy office. I knew they'd be stressed with me gone for a week, and at the time I had no idea of the tsunami that was going to hit them when I was gone. Hearing the door open and knowing my wife was upstairs packing, I went to see what it was. I had a knot in my tummy. It had to be Lilac, right, who else would it be? Now what was I going to have to deal with?

Indeed, it was Lilac. She strode into the living room, smiling sweetly, moving gingerly. She had on a very loose, sleeveless, green tank-top, sort of an athletic one, with her high school's name across the front. It hung loosely down past her hips, but exposed the bottom half of her shorts -- tight, white, booty shorts, barely past her asscheeks, hugging her little crotch tightly. Fuck, she looked hot. Her legs, long and slender, were tanned and delicious.

"Oops!" she scowled, seeing me, "um, I thought you would be gone by now!" She whapped her head with an open palm. "Blonde little me, I'm so stupid!" She put her little purse on a table nearby, shaking her sexy head.

Inwardly, I was scowling. Damn, she always looked good, even in a stupid athletic tank top. But, as I would have expected, I started getting hard in my shorts, seeing her; she could have been in a winter fur coat and I'd be getting hard just from her being in the room. So that also meant, right away, I was nervous. My wife was in the house; we were leaving for our trip in a couple of hours; I couldn't be flirting with her, not today, although not ever really. So, confused about how to handle the situation, I stood there dumbly, trying not to stare at her body but instead grinning warmly at her face. "Well, it's okay," I lied, covering up the commotion in my emotions, "maybe you can to play with Tigger a little? Get to be friends. He always loves attention."

"Sure!" She turned to head for the kitchen, stopping at the half-height wire gate we use to block off the kitchen so our mutt can't escape and soil the sofa. As she stood there, with our 30-pound dog walking over to meet her excitedly, she bent over the gate to put her hand on Tigger's scruffy forehead. And, bending over, her shirt raised up, and I was staring again at her perfect, petite ass, not exposed like the other night but clad in skin-tight white booty shorts. I saw the firmness of her cheeks, the tight buttcrack, my dick pulsated more adamantly in my black briefs.

Stop looking at her butt, I told myself. "You can let him out, in the living room," I explained, "as long as you're watching him." The teen blonde opened the gate, and the little furry guy ran into the living room, immediately sniffing around for food crumbs that my wife or I could have left behind any of number of times in the past few days. Lilac settled on the sofa, facing me, her elbows on her knees. "Hey, Tigger! Hey, boy!" She kept calling him, but he was ignoring her, still sniffing around for a free snack.

My dog was ignoring her, but I wasn't. My eyes were on her pretty face and sexy, tanned thin shoulders, as her hazel eyes followed Tigger around the carpet. Standing in the living room, watching her sit there, I had no idea what was coming. The little bitch, she was taking teasing to a new level! She leaned forward, as the dog got near her, putting her hand down to him. Reaching out, stretching, really leaning forward. She had a loose, sleeveless tank top. And nothing under it. As she leaned, the tank fell away from her body, and it had a pretty large neckline, so -- as it fell -- someone like me, standing there, had a direct view inside her shirt.

Yes, I'm saying it, as she leaned forward, I got a perfect view of her just-turned-18 year old tit!

She didn't look up to see if I noticed, she was just petting Tigger. It lasted about five, ten seconds, but she wasn't moving much, so as I was statuesque with my eyes glued on her body, her little tit was completely visible. Perky little brown nipple; creamy white color, surrounded by a decently dark tan line of her caramel tanned skin. Not a large breast, but a soft round one, petite, so fucking sexy.

When she sat upright, still not looking at me but our dog instead, I had to shift my position because my cock was so hard in my pants. I plopped into the reclining chair nearby, just sitting there on the edge, watching her, smiling. I had to cross my legs, to hide the bulge in my crotch. I was nervous from the view of her tits, because my wife was upstairs, and I was married and not supposed to see her breasts. She was only 18!

Tigger was showing more interest in her, his stubby little tail wagging, dancing around her. The teenager climbed off the sofa, kneeling on our carpet, playing with him. She bent over to pat the carpet, trying to get him to run around -- and, of course, bending over, in the direction of where I was sitting, I got a second look at one of her naked breasts inside her loose shirt. Damn, it looked better the second time.

I was about to force myself to look away, when she looked up at me and smiled. "He's a playful li'l thang, huh?" She sat back her small ass on her feet, her tanned, slim knees together in front of her, patting Tigger. He was jumping up on her to lick her face. The teenage blonde cackled like a child. "Awww, you like giving kisses? I loooove kisses!" She bent over, a third time, lowering her face so Tigger could lick her, and once again her shirt fell away from her chest, and given the way she was leaning towards me, I got a third look at her nude boob.

Was this accidental? Couldn't be. The teen tramp was trying to tease me!

All I knew was, my cock was rock-hard, loving it. Fucking loving it. And I was sweating nervously, unsure how to react, particularly afraid my 41-year old wife would come down and find her husband ogling some perfect blonde teen's sexy boobies. That would not be a pretty scene.

Lilac and Tigger began playing around on the floor, Lilac on her fours chasing Tigger. She spun around, calling to my dog, raising her hips as she leaned her elbows onto the carpet, her knees together. Yes, that exquisite ass raised up, so mouthwateringly hot inside her skin-tight, skimpy white shorts, wiggling her ass at me as she chased my dog around our carpet a little.

Almost laughing, I rolled my eyes. Yeah, the hottie was showing off her body again. She knew I loved it, she saw me staring at her at the pool a few weeks ago, then in our yard the other night. Now, she was giving me more eyefuls of her slim, young little body. It was like the opposite of stalking -- she was compulsively forcing me to ogle her breasts, ass and crotch.

Stupid me, I ogled. I stared. I didn't stop myself from devouring the sight of her perfect, 18 year old figure. I knew it was wrong, I should have turned away, but I couldn't. I just couldn't. I wanted to savor every nanosecond of staring at her nude tit inside her loose shirt, or her soft butt cheeks in the skin-tight white shorts.

The teen played with my dog, and I stared at the teen's body, for a good ten or fifteen minutes. I must have seen her ass a dozen times as she bent over, and she made sure to lean over to show off her tits four or five more times. Sometimes, I thought she looked up to see if I noticed, but she never really made eye contact with me. Instead, she was blushing a little, although it could have been from chasing our dog around the carpet.

Eventually, she had to get up, her knees were sore. I stood up too, hoping the tent in my pants was not too obvious. The other night, it was a rush to show off the bulge in my crotch. Here, in my house with my wife upstairs, I was dreading it.

Lilac retrieved her purse that she'd brought, and fished her cellphone out of it. She wanted my cellphone number, in case she had to contact us for the dog. I thought she'd already had it, but I gave it to her, and my wife's number to be sure. The girl typed them into her phone, then looked up at me.

"I'm glad you were here," she said, looking me in the eye firmly. She seemed to swallow her words; as if she wanted to say something, but resisted. Instead, she just simmered in a saucy grin, looking through my eyes with her piercing hazel gaze.

Just hearing her say those words, I was getting light-headed. It's one thing to see her body, it's another to hear her speak sweetly to me. Once again, I was a confused mess of proud machismo and shameful married guilt. "Yup," I quickly spoke, trying to sound like her presence wasn't affecting me either way, "we only have a couple hours before we have to go."

Lilac had her head cocked to one side, her blonde hair spilling down her shoulder on that side, it was a very sexy look. She watched Tigger a few seconds, possibly thinking what to say, then turned to look at me again. "Well, maybe when you get back from your trip, we can talk, or something?"

Damn, hearing her say that? I wanted to kiss her, jump her. Was she asking me on a date? With my wife upstairs in the bedroom? Once again, part of me wanted to be desired, and wanted that to be the case; the other part of me was already drafting a speech to have her back off, reaffirm that I'm married and over twice her age. It was, sort of, making me mad at myself. I should have been acting more adult, but instead, I was letting her whiplash me with these torturous views of her body and butt, she was like a drug for my eyes that was completely addictive.

Fortunately, my wife came down the steps, rescuing me from my quandary. Not long thereafter, Lilac bounced out of our house with a smile, waiving good-bye to me, wishing me a good trip.

I was left with the images of her sexy naked tits, burned into my brain, in addition to the sight of her perfect small ass in her tight booty shorts. I had no choice, I excused myself from my wife, going into the bathroom and jerking off the throbbing erection I had. The girl was fucking perfect!

But a few hours later, we were on a plane, and I'd left troublesome Lilac behind at home. Or so I thought.

* * * * *

If I thought leaving home would put an end to Lilac's voracious appetite for flirting, I was wrong.

First, it has to be said, I couldn't get her out of my mind. When a sexy little slut shows off her perky A-cup titties to you, giving me a free little sex show in my living room, you better fucking know I'm going to fantasize about that constantly. And that ass -- mmmm, was a hot fucking ass she had, so fucking tight and petite. Every time I pictured her in that bikini with the fabric stuffed into her asscrack, exposing most of the creamy white flesh on those two little handfuls of flesh, I found myself wishing I could see those buttocks pressed against my belly, while my dick was driven into her moist teen cunt. Yeah, she had me fantasizing about fucking her, constantly. Constantly!

So, in the morning on my vacation when I showered or took long bathroom breaks, I was usually jerking my boner. I always had a usual staple of pervy fantasies to get me off, and being on a tropical island with near-naked women showing off fleshy tits and scorching hot legs, I had plenty of eye candy to fuel my libido. My wife's sister was quite the package herself, a 30 year old Latina with a completely rocking body. But for the most part, I was fantasizing about Lilac. How I'd love to see her little boobies on her back, while she rode my penis. How I'd bend her over and stare at her gorgeous ass while I boned her hot little cunt from behind. That teen bitch needed to find out what happens when you tease a grown, married man. When you play with fire. You get fucked!

In a sense, then, I couldn't get away from her, the petite blonde was in my thoughts and fantasies pretty much all the time, even though I was 2,000 miles away (or something like that, don't quote me on it).

But then -- ugh, the bitch was one sensational flirt -- it didn't matter she was there and I was here, on a tropical island. She still had her ways to flirt with me!

It started our second full day on the trip, which was Sunday. Past lunchtime, my cell received a text from an unfamiliar number. When I looked at the message, though, it was clear who it was.

Lilac wrote: "T is happy today we had fun!" I assumed "T" meant Tigger, and it was a cute little report.

My first clue that she was still teasing me should have been that she sent it to me but not my wife. My wife hired her and gave her the instructions, it would have seemed normal that Lilac would write my wife and not me. But the little tease wanted my attention, didn't she?

I knew I couldn't resist, because just knowing she was thinking of me was making my spine tingle and my dick get harder. It seemed innocent enough, being the object of a flirtatious high school girl's crush of the week, and it wasn't hurting anyone. So, stupid me, I wrote her back. Something dumb, I don't remember the text. She responded with something cute, I wrote back, and so forth, just a handful of messages across the afternoon. I made sure not to respond immediately, but let 30 minutes or so pass after each of her texts. I didn't want to seem anxious.

Late in the afternoon, possibly early evening, I wrote her something like, well when you come back to the house tonight it'll be empty, so you can have a party, "just don't tell my wife." I don't know why I said it, it was kind of silly. I wasn't used to flirting with teenage girls, you know. Lilac, however, read something into it. She wrote, "Well u [you] wont be here so it wont be a gud [good] party." I felt my dick leak a little precum reading that one; that was really a pretty flirty line, wasn't it? I wrote something back -- and pretty quickly -- along the lines of, you can invite your boyfriend, "I'm sure you have a HOT one." Lilac's response? "Eh no not really."

So, knowing she had the hots for me, was showing me her exquisite little body, was thinking of me during the day, and she was available? My blood was boiling. I had to excuse myself from the gathering of my wife and her relatives, to sneak to the bathroom for a quick orgasm. Lilac was really turning me on, the little hussy!

Like clockwork, I got another email the next morning, Monday morning, after she let out Tigger. This one, I ignored, not wanting to get into a day-long session of text-sex, if any such thing existed. Don't lead the little woman on, I scolded myself privately, don't let her think you're actually open to these flirtations. It's just not proper, I'm married and she's fucking 18 years old!

Another email came after lunch. Ignored that one too.

By about 3 o'clock that Monday afternoon, without any more texts from her, I figured she'd gotten the message that I wasn't going to be a text buddy. I was reclining on a very soft but overheated leather-covered bench, on the back of a patio of our resort's super-large pool deck. My wife and her family were inside, escaping from the blazing tropical sun. I had come outside to get a look at the scenery, accompanying my mother. How non-sexual can THAT be? But the old bag had to go inside, the heat was ridiculous. I had a big-brim hat on, the breeze was a decent offset to the unrelenting sunlight, and it struck me as a nice place to sit down. So I did.




Lilac: Hot, 18, Horny, Relentless!



The little bitch must have been reading my mind from thousands of miles away. I'd been sitting five minutes, maybe ten, when my cell pinged that I had a new text message. I almost didn't have to look to know who it was; my office was leaving me alone for this trip. Sure enough, it was Lilac's number.

This was not a report about our dog. "I'm excited today wanna know why?"

Sitting in the sun, knowing the sexy hottie was thinking of me and wanted to share her day with me, this horny married man couldn't stop texting three letters back, right away. "Why?" Yeah, I took the bait.

"Cuz," she wrote, "I got a new necklass wanna see it?"

Assuming she meant "necklace," and wondering why she cared that I saw some new necklace, I didn't stop myself from seeing where this was going. I typed, "Sure."

Time seemed to drag slowly on that pool deck, under the afternoon Caribbean sun, it was an eternal couple of minutes before my cell pinged that I'd received a picture text. Not sure what to expect, I opened it, and was greeted by one sensationally sexy photograph. It was a picture of Lilac for sure, a bust shot, with her face and top half of her torso, sort of down to a spot midway between her petite boobs and her innie belly-button. Her blonde hair was messy, unkept, almost like she hadn't showered; she had no makeup, but her tanned face was still attractive. She was scowling at the camera, a funny face, hardly a sexy one. My eyes gravitated to her small piece of clothing -- she was wearing only a hot pink tubetop, a single, thick, strapless garment wrapped horizontally around her slender torso and covering most of her small breasts. A little cleavage showed on the top, and the bumps of her firm nipples were pretty obvious. Dangling over the tubetop, between her boobs, was a gold chain with a heart-shaped pendant dangling midway between her soft breasts.

Lilac quickly sent a follow-up email. "Dont mind me i lk [look] like shit," she opined.

Sitting on that hot, padded bench, my penis was growing in my shorts, my eyes glued to the sight of her tightly-wrapped boobs. This vixen was teasing me mercilessly, did she have any idea of the effect on me? I had to put a stop to this, I knew. I really had to.

But, did I tell her to stop? Did I ignore her? No, I wrote back a friendly, flirty message. "You dont look like shit," I wrote truthfully, thinking of something clever to say and then typing it, "Even when you look like shit you dont look like shit." I wasn't sure what that meant, but it sounded cute to me.

Lilac sure thought it was cute. "Awww ur [you're] sweet," she texted quickly. That made me smile, I had to admit. It was rewarding to know a sexy young woman was tickled by my attention, as much as I knew it wasn't a good idea.

But in the realm of bad ideas, the all-text conversation up to that point was nothing compared to the next round of messages.

Lilac wrote again, right away, "Wanna see what i lk [look] like rite [right] now?"

Again, quite the teasing line. I had no idea what to expect. It was 3 pm or so my time, and I wasn't sure if I was an hour ahead or not. So, being the middle of the afternoon back home, how bad could it be, I figured? Maybe she was in a bikini, like the one I saw her wearing at the pool a few weeks earlier. That would have been nice to see. But, I knew I couldn't invite something too risque, and the bikini might not even pass that criteria. So, at the risk of not being cute anymore, I pretty much spelled out my grown-up rule. "OK but only if ur mom wouldnt mind."

The teen didn't get what I meant; Lilac quickly responded, "UMMM why wd [would] she even no [know]?"

Explaining quickly, I typed, "I mean dont show me wot [what] she wouldnt want u [you] 2 [to] show me." I figured that would be pretty clear.

It wasn't. "UR FUNNY," typed the teen blonde, "I dont kno [know] what dat [that] means." But, quickly following that message, I received her second picture text of the afternoon. This one I didn't have to open, it just scrolled in front of my eyes.

YOWZA!

It was a photo Lilac took of herself standing in front of a full-body mirror. The little bitch was topless, with a white towel wrapped around her waist as if she was going to take a shower. I couldn't see her tits, she had one hand clutching one boob, and her other tit was strategically hidden behind her hand and the camera as she took a non-flash picture of her reflection in the mirror.

Hot. Fucking hot. Her hair was still a mess, but who cares. Her caramel, tanned skin looked smooth and expensive, without a blemish, her frail shoulders and slim tummy would be the envy of 99.9% of adult women. Girl was fucking delicious, just a sensuous, prime example of the perfect female form.

Still, as much as I gawked at the photo and instantly wanted to see more -- as in, see her without the towel, and her hands down -- I knew, being a rational, married man, that I couldn't see more. I actually felt my hand burning just holding the camera near my head, under the rim of my hat to keep it in shade. I looked around, a fear rising that my wife or one of her siblings was coming out to see what I was doing. The prick is sexting with a high school senior-to-be, they'd say.

I was deliberating what to say back, something firm to put a stop to this, when Lilac explained a bit more. "Im gonna take a shower," she wrote, confirming the obvious, "itz HOT."

Erasing what I was about to send, I went halfway, trying to be cute but still firm. "You r hot," I typed, my fingers trembling, "but u cant show me pics from the shower cuz im married." I actually hated typing that, and before I clicked send, I thought about erasing that too, and saying, send me pics from the shower. That was the message I really wanted to send.

Lilac might have missed the last part, about me being married. "OMG I shd [should] get a waterproof cell," she typed, as if contemplating the idea of nude photos from the shower.

My attempt to avoid this line of conversation failed, she didn't pick up on me being married, and now I was horny and not going to repeat it. "You could sell those pics," I wrote to her, wondering if maybe she was actually going to send me some of her nude in the shower.

Lilac sent back an emoticon of a toothy smiley-face, and wrote, "4sur bt wd u bi them?" ["For sure but would you buy them?"]

After typing "Yes!," I didn't send that -- instead, the battle in me was being waged message by message, and for this one, the married adult was taking over. "No like I said im not allowed to see them," I wrote, then added a moment later in all capitals, "IM MARRIED."

On her end of the conversation, a few thousand miles away, the blonde teen was horny, being mostly nude in her room about to shower, and showing off her body to a married man. Like she showed off her tits to me, quite deliberately, inside her loose shirt in my living room the other day. She had my attention, and it was turning her on to keep feeding my lust.

So she wrote, "Ur not huh?" It was odd, since I just wrote her I'm married, but I believed her to be responding to the prior message where I told her I wasn't allowed to see pictures of her naked in the shower.

To repeat, she asked if I really wasn't allowed to see those kind of pictures. And she followed up her message with a third picture text, which scrolled onto my screen like an invitation from the devil. A photo of her reflection in the same mirror, but with her tits uncovered. Yes, I saw a photo of her nude breasts, those gorgeous little, A-cup boobies, creamy white, with triangular tan lines from her bikini top. Her nipples were brown, little, stiff. She had on a funny scowl on her face, like she was disturbed about something, but I think it was just to be silly. One hand was holding the camera to her face, so she could see the photo she was taking; her other hand was sort of waiving to me, two fingers up like a peace sign, but bent crooked at an acute angle.

My eyes were glued to the sight of her tits, fuck they were insanely sexy -- petite, so proportionate on her little frame. Not a busty girl, but with her skinny shoulders and slim hips, her breasts were divine, just perfect. My mouth watered at the thought of suckling them. Lower on the photo, her smooth, soft tummy cut off where her towel was wrapped around her, and my cock wanted to see another photo with the towel removed. That's what I wanted.

I must not have responded fast enough; I wasn't even thinking about typing, I was staring at her picture. Lilac typed, "did u get that?" She must have been anxious for my response.

She got my response, except it wasn't what she wanted. I was angry, frankly. I was being teased, and I couldn't deal with it. I actually deleted all three of her photos -- seriously, I deleted them -- and wrote, "That was SO inappropriate!" I didn't just hit the send key, I banged it with my thumb, as if doing that would send it faster, or make the message more stern.

The teenager must have thought I was teasing. "Nu uh," she typed, which I believe were the sounds "nuh-uhh." She was either mocking me, or disagreeing, but either way, my message wasn't coming through.

The hot Caribbean afternoon was melting my brain, not to mention the hot teenager sexting with me. I had to do something, I wanted to get up and walk around, sweat was beading all over my body. I felt guilty, I felt eyes of my wife and her family on me, which of course wasn't true but I was unnerved anyway. Lilac sent another message, "Want another one?" Five minutes earlier, I probably would have said yes, assuming I'd get to see her nude, see her cunt. But now, overheated, angry as shit, I just put an end to it.

"DO NOT TEASE ME ANYMORE," I typed, "IM MARRIED."

This time, message received.

"Geez ok tht ud like it," she wrote. ["Thought you'd like it."]

I sighed, not wanting to make her angry, but knowing I did the right thing. "I am not allowed to say I did," I wrote, very diplomatically. I was actually proud of that message, for a moment; I held my ground, but told her I liked it. I mean, what living male wouldn't like it? She showed me her hot titties!

My mood changed, as once again, I didn't understand my audience. She was 18, she was not a grown up. She was horny and doing things that were not a good idea, but she didn't know any better. Her messages reflected profound distress.

"Alrightiethen," was her first message ["All rightie then"]. A moment later, her second, "g2g kthxbi" ["Got to go, ok, thanks, bye"]. Extremely dismissive.

I slumped into the sizzling hot leather bench, my back against the concrete wall, baking in the scorching sun. That cool breeze from earlier either had stopped, or was of no effect anymore. I felt defeated, emptied of energy. I was on the verge of seeing her nude, but instead, I made her mad. I knew it was the right thing to do -- but, then, tell my why I felt like shit?

And another thing made me feel worse. You fucking idiot, I told myself, you fucking deleted the pictures!

* * * * *

The texts from her stopped coming to me after that incident, not surprisingly. That Monday evening, after she put Tigger out, she texted my wife that the dog was fine. That was a signal to me that she was now going to ignore me. I'd pissed her off.

Of course, I had forgotten how teenage females run hot and cold; it could be the end of the world with them one day, but the next, it was like it had never happened. Such are teenage hormones, and I wasn't accounting for that. More about that later.

Running parallel to these events, my office was having a minor crisis without me. Well, major crisis. Our second-largest customer was getting into a pissing contest with our third-largest customer, lawsuits threatened and all that, and we were being told to declare our allegiance. Were we with them or against them. Work was being frozen, and worse, we were being subtly threatened with being sued ourselves for sharing work for our #2 customer in projects with #3. It wasn't true, but a mid-sized company like mine couldn't survive that kind of war. It was bad.

My business partner let me in on the details Monday morning. My Monday evening, the temporary crisis seemed to simmer down, and he was telling me to stay on vacation. There was going to be a meeting planned the following week when I got back, and my office just had to prepare for the meeting. It would take a lot of work -- going through projects, to prove to our customer we weren't selling them out to another client -- but I wasn't critical to the project.

I told my wife about it, and she knew the importance of the event. "Do you need to go home?" she asked.

Go home. It was plausible. The vacation wasn't for me, it was for my wife and her ritzy family, so if I left, my wife wouldn't be alone. Some might say she wouldn't miss me, although that wasn't entirely true. The main airport was just a half-hour taxi ride away, I could be home by mid-day the next day, Tuesday. I knew my office could survive the week without me; but, on the other hand, my presence there could really help improve our chances of getting back in good graces with our customer at the meeting the following week, and avoid any messy hit to our revenues.

So what was bothering me? The thought that I had an ulterior motive for going home. When my business partner told me to stay put, I was questioning his recommendation, but possibly not for business reasons. Was I rejecting him because I wanted to be home for a half week without my wife -- so I would have opportunity to see Lilac's titties in the flesh? And more than just those titties?

That Monday evening, I had a pretty gut-wrenching conversation with my wife, but Lilac of course was never mentioned. I didn't want to bail on her vacation. She had been looking forward to it for weeks and weeks. But my business was in jeopardy, we couldn't afford a multi-million stoppage of revenues. I might have a job, but I'd be making less, we'd have to lay off people -- it was a bad situation. No matter what I was being told by the office, my wife probably correctly inferred, they needed me there.

"You need to go home, Mike, I'm sorry, that's just the way it is," my wife told me, comforting me.

Damn, it was actually happening. Around midnight that night, I booked the last seat on a flight home on the 8 am flight. I'd be home just after lunchtime, and could be in the office all afternoon and evening.

It was a whirlwind, happening so fast. I was sleep-deprived, sitting in the gateway waiting for the plane to board, saddened that I had to abandon this vacation to paradise and leave my wife behind. I was nervous about the situation at the office, of course.

And, there was Lilac. But, I knew I shouldn't -- and couldn't -- think about her.

I figured, I would be too busy at the office to see her at the house. Hell, I probably wouldn't get home until midnight, the folks at the office were burning the late-night oil to work on this massive presentation we owed in a week's time. We had to go through hundreds of deliverables, trying to make our case we weren't selling out client #2 to client #3. It just sounded ridiculous, but companies in heated competition are that way. You don't tell them they're wrong; you have to show them they're wrong. That was the primary goal for the week, there was no time to flirt with Lilac, much less have sex with her at my house.

Yeah, I figured, she would fuck me if I wanted to -- she was putting herself out there, wasn't she?

Sitting there, a bundle of nerves and emotions, my wife called me. Remember to tell Lilac that I would be home, my wife said, so she's not surprised if you're home -- but, if I was going to be at the office long hours, she still needed to come take care of the dog, at least in the middle of each day, if not in the early evening too.

So I did it. Sitting there in the terminal, tired, worn down, supposedly on vacation but having it end abruptly, I called Lilac. I figured this was going to be strictly professional. My fingers were too tired to text, and she didn't understand half the things I texted to her anyway.

She answered quietly, and I just spoke casually. I told her I had to come home for work, that I'd be leaving early in the morning but she didn't need to come mornings anymore. Still needed her to put the dog out each mid-day, and if she could still come by in early evening, that would be good because I'd be home probably really late each night.

I heard a pause, as if she wasn't understanding. I figured, how dense could the teen be -- she was already planning to come to our house three time a day, and I was telling her, it only needed to be two times, she could sleep in if she wanted. This wasn't rocket science. Why didn't she just say, yeah, okay?

"Um, okeeee," came her sing-song reply, with a giggle. "Um -- wait -- when will you be home, again?"

Tired, not thinking, I just looked at my ticket, added commute times, and told her. "About 2. You should still put Tigger out at lunch, in case I'm delayed."

The girl seemed chipper. "Alright -- you'll be at the house at 2, is that it?"

"Yeah." I was tired, I wanted to get off the call, but I didn't want to be too abrupt. Actually, I was nervous too, wondering if the subject of her naked tits could be raised. I hoped not, I didn't need further complications.

"Um, okay!" Lilac giggled agreeably, "well, have a nice flight!"

* * * * *

Flight was perfect -- I slept the entire way. It was in first class, and you have no idea of the expense of a first-class ticket from the Caribbean to the continental US, bought just hours before the flight. It was, almost a five-digit ticket. But the company would pick it up; myself, I got a ton of room to stretch out, relax, and sleep.

I had been in my house not even five minutes, at the most, when the front door seemed to unlocked and open by itself. I was standing in the dining room nearby, looking through the mail Lilac had brought in from the past couple of days, and I looked up surprised that the door was opening. Maybe I'd forgotten to lock it, maybe the wind blew it open? Which was stupid -- it was July, there was no fucking wind.

Into the house stepped Lilac, looking like a vision from a dream. Her hair was blazing hot -- golden, brushed out, flowing down from her petite head and down her slender shoulders and back. She was wearing makeup, possibly lipstick, some eye shadow; she looked refreshed. But her body was the star of the show. She had on a white bikini top, with triangles covering her A-cup boobies, the rest of her tummy and torso completely uncovered, a deep golden bronze tan from spending every day for a month at the pool. I suspected she had on a bikini bottom, but around her slim hips was a white skirt, probably a little wrap, something to wear commuting to the beach or pool.

My jaw agape, I dropped the mail onto the table and looked at her, frozen solid, the sexy, delicious teenager almost nude as her slender, sexy legs pivoted her super-slim body, closing the front door, then she took a step into the foyer. She glanced over, saw me standing there, and let out a little yelp, her hand holding my house keys to her opened mouth, putting a shocked look on her face. "Oops, you're home already!" she announced.

Obviously, I said to her, trying not to stare at her body. I'd seen those tits without a bikini top, but they almost looked sexier wrapped in the slim white garment -- teasing, seductive. Suddenly, all I was thinking about was Lilac. Her body, her girlish charm, her teenage enthusiasm. I was home alone, and she was here -- dressed for the pool.

Those sexy, tanned young legs strode in my direction, until she was standing next to the table near me. "I was just gonna check on ol' Tigger again," she said, probably lying to me, "then go over to the pool, ya know?"




Lilac: Hot, 18, Horny, Relentless!



I glanced at my watch, it was 2:45. Flight had been delayed. I knew she wasn't here for the dog, she would have come at lunchtime. Or, maybe she was way behind too. But I didn't confront her, I wanted to act like it was strictly professional, even though I'd seen her topless, and wanted to fuck her, and knew she was coming onto me. "Well, Tigger's in the kitchen," I indicated, where he would always be, "help yourself, it's why we hired you." I tried to keep my voice calm, almost to the point of sounding bored. Maybe passive disinterest would scare her off, it was the least confrontational way.

"Yup!" The girl put my house keys on the table near me, and our eyes caught for a second. She was nervous, almost biting her lip. I guess I wasn't being receptive to her obvious advances, and she wasn't sure how to get through my bravado. The moment passed, though, she slipped away, though, headed into the kitchen. I heard her call out sweetly to our dog, and heard his barks of excitement. I forced myself not to look, reading through the mail, seeing nothing of particular interest. Still, I stood there, hearing the back door open, hearing the girl and my dog go outside.

I was nervous, there was no doubt about it. This hot little bitch was in my house, wearing almost nothing, she'd been coming onto me and teasing me, then presented me with a topless photo of herself. Man, I could bang her so easily, I knew. But -- I also knew that was not proper. I was married, I'd made promises, I can't do it. She was only 18! How stupid would this be?

Fidgeting, I started looking for things to do. I kept thumbing through the mail, until I realized I'd seen the same envelopes two or three times. They weren't processing in my head. Tossing those down, I asked myself, what could I do to pass the time until she left. I didn't want to just sit there. I could make food, but I wasn't hungry. Instead, the most obvious thing was sitting in front of me, my luggage. Yes, I had to unpack. No, if I was trying to avoid a scenario where I might set myself up to be seduced, this wasn't the brightest idea.

I hauled my two pieces of luggage up the steps, quickly heading into my bedroom. It was like a retreat from the front; she was downstairs, I was up here, we were separated now. I tossed the two boxy bags onto the large King-size bed, but first realized the room was dim. My wife had closed the blinds. Now, our bedroom is in the back corner of the house, with eight separate windows on the two adjoining walls to provide ample light and a great view of the very green wild overgrowth behind our house -- something of an accidental forest, I suppose -- so opening the windows one by one is a process.

My back was to the door, I was about halfway through opening the windows when I heard a soft, high-pitched female voice behind me. "Oh, here you are," Lilac giggled, strolling into my bedroom. My bedroom! "Whatcha doin' -- are you unpacking? Need any help?"

My spine crawled with tingling, I was caught, and now in my bedroom. Part of me, of course, was loving this. My cock was already standing up in my pants. Had I lured here up here, telling myself I was trying to get away? Of course. But no, no way. Fuck, I was hating myself -- was I going to fuck her or send her home? Make your fucking mind up, you asshole! This was pissing me off!

I finished opening the eight windows, letting in tons of light of the bright summer afternoon, before I turned to look at her across the room. She was so petite, so young, the 18 year old blonde goddess, standing in the middle of my bedroom. "Uhh, no, I'm good," I forced myself to say, opting not to tell her to strip and get on the bed. She could tell, however, that I was observing her in a sexual way. The white bikini top covering her little boobs, and the tight white wrap around her petite hips, beckoned my attention, contrasting to her bronze tanned skin. I forced my eyes to look off her body and to her hazel eyes. "You, uhhh, no, you don't have to." Wait, that's the best I can do, to tell her she has to quit teasing me?

Lilac looked past me, at the windows behind me. "Wow, look at that!" Truly caught by the view, the teenager stepped around my bed and strolled up to a window pane next to me, looking directly into our back yard. Truly, we have a spectacular view. The land behind our house slopped downward into a valley, stretching back about 300 yards and probably dropping 40 or 50 yards over that span. The valley then slopped upwards on the other side, not quite as high, so you could see past the ridge behind us and across towards the city in the great distance. Most of the land was owned by the power company, I'd heard, and they didn't care about it -- it was virtually all trees and unkempt bushes. Pure wildlife. In the winter, it was barren and almost spooky; but now, in July, it was full green foliage. Beautiful, luscious, inviting. Not unlike Lilac herself, but in a very different way.

As she stood next to me, admiring the view out our back window, my eyes turned to admire the view of her body. Gravitating my gaze to her little ass, I saw how her wrap was tight around her buttocks, so as she clenched them, I could almost see the pocket marks of the dimples on the sides of her butt cheeks. I could also detect her feminine aroma -- a concoction of female sweat, some sticky-sweet perfume, and even maybe the fishy odor of a vagina. Looking at her chest from the side, I saw her nipples were hard, forming little distinct bumps on her teen titties in her white bikini top.

The girl looked at me, seeing me look at her, and she winked. "This is great," she said of the view again, but she was just passing time. We had another moment, like the one downstairs, just looking at each other, neither of us addressing the 800 pound gorilla in the room. I had a dry mouth, I wanted to tell her I wanted to kiss her and fuck her; but I knew I needed to say she had to get home, I had to go to work to deal with my crisis there, and I was a married man who shouldn't have sex with an 18 year old blonde.

The teenager seemed to have more sense of herself than I did. She turned her back to me, again showing me that fine young ass and bronzed tan backside, as she stepped to my bed and started unzipping a suitcase. "So, let's unpack you, see what you brought home for me," she laughed with a playful, schoolgirl's giggle from her younger days.

I should have felt my privacy being invaded, but instead, I was feeling enamored that this young hottie was making excuses to spend time around me. She was seducing my machismo, the part of me that wants to feel like a virile man. Just her mere presence in my bedroom was intoxicating; I was throbbing hard, gazing at her small body, smelling her aromas, seeing her about to go through my underwear.

"Hey -- my underwear!" I exhaled a shriek, snapping to attention.

As I jumped to Lilac's side, the girl was already removing one of my folded black briefs, holding it up with pinched fingers. "Hmm, black -- very sexy!" I saw her glance down to my crotch -- she did so very obviously, like she wanted me to see her do it -- then she compared a mental image to the underwear. "I dunno, these must be SO tight on you, you sure these are yours?"

Then she looked at me again, biting her lower lip. Either she was saying I was fat, or, she was questioning if the briefs could hold the size of my package. What a hot little tramp she was.

Putting on a fake scowl if disdain, I reached out to snatch the black underwear away from her. She didn't mind, not resisting, taking out another two pair, holding each one in a separate hand. Her voice the throaty, sultry; she looked at me with a hard stare into my eyes. "So this is what you like -- are you wearing one like this right now?"

She was inviting me to take my pants off, I was sure of it.

The married man in me wasn't ready to give up my moral high ground. It was like I was being forced to prove myself, show what I was made of. I had to find the girl's "off" button. Her directness was entertaining, and I let out a little laugh, before coughing and laying down the party line. "You know, you're really not supposed to ask that."

Lilac shrugged, putting my underwear back in the luggage. "Oh, you can tell me, I'm 18."

"Yes," nervously I retorted, "but I'm married." Please, please get the hint, I was whispering to myself, I didn't want to say to her what she should already know. I wanted to make this easy on myself.

I heard her growl, almost a purr of a cat on the hunt, as her young hazel eyes scanned my crotch and chest before returning to my face. "Mmm, yes I know you're married, it's one of the things I like about you."

Tell her to go away, tell her to go away, I commanded myself. Not quite the words that came out of my mouth. "Is it?"

"Mmm hmm," she snickered, her eyes dropping to my crotch again. I was hard, but I don't think I had a visible bulge; I wasn't going to look and fuel this. She cocked her body, sticking a hip out, her hand on it to bend her arm akimbo. "So, you didn't say if you liked my bikini," toyed the girl with me, adding fuel to the fire, "I'm going to the pool to impress somebody -- think it'll work?" With that, I watched her hand on her hip unsnap a button, and she pulled off her white wrap, revealing the white bikini bottom. She pivoted to put the skirt on my bed -- on a pillow, actually -- which turned her ass in my direction. The bikini bottom covered only half her ass; I found myself gaping at soft, creamy-white triangles of exposed flesh on her small butt cheeks.

I must have moaned, my intention to kick her out of my house was not working, I was adoring the sight of her sexy teenage body. She knew it too, looking at me gawking at her. "But, I don't have to go to the pool, if you don't want me to."

Wake up, wake up, she's starting to strip for me. "Uhhh -- no, that's okay -- I have to go to the office, we have a -- have a crisis, it's why I left my wife -- my wife--" Shit, I was thinking about her, we were in the same room where I slept with my wife, this girl was practically naked! I will admit it, I was scared, my response to this wasn't what I had hoped it would be. I wanted to fuck this hot chick, yes I did; but it was so wrong on so many levels, I had to prove myself I was a real man and stand up for my principles.

The blonde shrugged, and answered my comment by putting one of the luggage bags on the floor. In the space she just cleared off, she hopped onto my bed, sitting on her butt, her hands behind her torso to arch her back and push her titties in her white bikini top towards me. "Oh, you sure you have to go into the office now? Can't you relax just a LITTLE, you had a long trip, right?" She could see my eyes were on her tits in her bikini, mentally removing the white triangles of thin fabric.

Say no, say no. "Umm -- no, honey -- really, I have to get into the office." Good boy, score one for me. Now, tell her to leave.

Lilac wasn't leaving, she was grinning at the reaction of the pervy, middle-aged married man, seeing her in the bikini on my bed. "Well," she offered with a soft, devilish snicker, teasing me mercilessly, "maybe this will convince you to stay?"

I saw her hands move to her back, she sat upright, and a second later, she was pulling off her bikini top -- exposing her glorious, sexy little 18 year old breasts. They were creamy white, a triangular shape of her tan lines against the caramel of the rest of her skin surrounding them. Hard, stiff nipples, light brown, with quarter-sized areolae. They had a soft, round shape, a definite curvature to the bottom of them, firm and perky; but small, they easily would entirely fit in my mouth, each one.

Staring at her nude tits, I balked. "Uhhh -- ohhh, Lilac -- uhhh!" I wasn't thinking about being good; I was in lust for those teen tits, and I didn't want them to go away.

The bitch knew her plan was working, for the moment. "Or, this will convince you?"

I couldn't believe how aggressive she was. She leaned back, both her hands moving to her hips; and a second later, she was slipping her bikini bottom off. She tossed it to her side, and laid back. She spread her creamy tanned tights. I was now gazing at her cunt.

Her cunt!

It was shaved bald, entirely hairless. Two pink, parallel pussylips, glistening. Her little clitty was barely poking through the hood of flesh above it. Below, she had a clean, puckered brown asshole, equally tight. I could see her firm, untanned butt cheeks from the inside, as she pried her legs open. "Don't you want to stay, Mike?"

My dick was leaking precum in my underwear, my eyes already fucking her. But I was trying to be a man about this. "Baby -- I'm married." There, I was proud to say it, even though my eyes were gazing at her naked body.

"I don't care," she whined, sounding anxious now. She had one hand on her pussy, rubbing her wet little clitty, while her other hand cupped one of her breasts and stroked her stiff nipple. Her hazel eyes peered at me lustfully, her voice trembled with a young woman's unsatisfied hunger. "I don't care, you're hot, and I'm sooo horny. I like that you're married, I bet you don't get pussy like mine -- young and tight -- cum on, cum feel it." Her fingertip was orbiting her clitoris, rubbing it faster, she was so turned on watching me watch her masturbate.

Trust me, I wanted to fuck her, but the conflict was being won by Reason. With a sigh, almost a sad one, I dropped my final word on the subject. "I can't, really -- I really, really, really can't." I averted my eyes; I looked away, staring at nothing, more hiding my shame and emotion than trying not to look at her gorgeous, petite nude body.

I could still hear her, though. "Please -- pleeeeeease, I'm soooo wet . . . pleeeease . . . just this once . . . pleeeease fuck me!"

Shit, she said it; and yes, fuck yes, I wanted to fuck her.

So, I turned my back on her. I had to do this, it was the Right thing. "I can't!" I yelled, almost mad. "You need to get dressed."

The overly horny, naive 18 year old was almost sobbing. "What? No -- please -- just this once!"

I sighed again. I felt better about myself, I'd controlled the beast, put the monster back in its cage. Now I could turn to face her again, seeing her tits and pussy, and she looked like a young female unfit for a mature man like me. "I really appreciate your attention, and you really make me feel good about myself. And of course I would love to fuck you, you are so hot -- really, really, so hot, you have no idea -- but, sweetie, I just can't -- I can't -- I'm married, I have to go to the office until late tonight -- I can't." My eyesight drilled into her eyes, into her brain. "I can't, okay?"

She sat up, pouting, looking away for a second, then at me. She saw I was serious. "Um -- okay." Her voice was saddened, but not angry. She was taking a chance, she knew it was over the line. She couldn't blame me, right? "Okay, I understand."

Brutal honesty is not always the best thing, when a nude girl is on your bed. "I wish I could, really -- but I can't."

She reclaimed her bikini thong. "No, I get it."

After I left the room for her to get dressed, then didn't even see her leave the house because I was hiding in plain sight in the kitchen, I thought I'd ended it. The opportunity had passed, right, and I survived with my marriage and ego intact.

So why did I feel like shit?

* * * * *

Needless to say, I couldn't work that afternoon. Oh, I was in the office until the evening, but my mind wasn't on the business crisis. I didn't want to see word comparison charts and revenue profile projection software diagrams, I didn't want to argue about how to word an introductory presentation, I certainly didn't want to lay blame on how two software projects were intermingled in violation of company policy. No, I wanted to sit and think about the gorgeous blonde girl who wanted me to fuck her, and who I threw out of my house. I didn't even say good-bye. What an asshole I am.

But, besides being mad, I was horny. I surfed some porn websites, rubbing my penis through my pants. Videos of slender, tanned blonde chicks were really turning me on. Humm, wonder why. Seeing pictures and movies of hard cocks pushing open their tight little pussies, watching them scream and ache while being fucked deep . . . I could have had that, I told myself. So was I a "man" to stand up for my marriage, and toss her out? Or would a "man" have said, fuck it, this hot little whore needed some grown-up dick, and I was going to give the 18 year old what she wanted? What's a "man's man" reaction to that situation?

I also felt bad, kicking her out without a further word. I was hiding from her and my emotions, waiting for her to leave the house. I should text her or something, I thought. Say I'm sorry.

So I did. Around 7 pm, I had just eaten some bad Chinese food, I grabbed my cellphone. First I exchanged texts with my wife, making sure she was alright; and she was, of course. Then, staring at my cellphone in my hand, I told myself I was taking the upper road. I wrote Lilac a short text, which seemed to say it all: "I'm sorry, ur really great, its my fault." I'm not sure it was, but, I didn't mind taking all the blame. Hell, I'm married, I've been taking all the blame regardless of justice for 20 years.

I wasn't sure she'd respond; she was probably really pissed at me. But, 18 year old affections are funny things; one moment they run hot, another cold. Such were the raging hormones as she dealt with her first days of adulthood. Her text came back about five minutes later, actually surprising me. "No its not its mine," she wrote of the fault-apportionment debate, "Im 18 and cant stand it."

That was an odd comment, and I had to admit, it made me feel old. What was "it"? Was this something the teens knew she meant? I had no clue. So, of course, I bit. "Cant stand what?" I asked in my next text, writing so quickly that she'd know I was paying rapt attention.

Lilac's response took only a minute, and seemed to tell me her life story in less than 140 characters. "Wanting 2b fukd by sum1 exprcd n not an immatur prick even if he lks gud." ["Wanting to be fucked by someone experienced, and not an immature prick even if the immature prick looks good."]

I was flattered that I had something she couldn't get from the teen and college boys she obviously knew -- they were like flies on the carcass around her, at the pool, as I observed a month earlier -- but we all have our roles to play, and I had told myself, this wasn't mine. "Ur so hot," I wrote back, maybe sounding fatherly, "u will find sum1 im sure." I could just see her patrolling malls and stores, hunting for adult men, looking for the guy who would stick his married cock in her and give her what she wanted. I felt really, really bad that the guy wasn't me.

"Yup I hope," she wrote, "and SOON."

Not sure if this was helping or hurting my feelings. I was glad she wasn't mad at me; but I was feeling worse that I didn't have the balls to fuck her myself. I wasn't feeling like a man. "I have to get back to work, sorry," I texted, deciding it was time to move on. It would allow me to avoid my feelings.

The teenager either had a wicked sense of humor, or no clue about real life. "K have fun," she wrote, ending our text exchange for the evening.

* * * * *

That Wednesday night wasn't as late at work as I had expected, at least for myself. The staff was going to be working past midnight. But, weary from the travel and my nerves frayed by Lilac, I was a useless lump of flesh most of the night. At 9 pm, my business colleague told me to get my ass home and get some good sleep. I delayed and stalled, but eventually, I headed out, feeling defeated.

All I could think about, driving home, was Lilac. Nude Lilac in my bed, wanting me, begging for it. I turned her down. I was proud of doing it, it was the right thing to do. I still couldn't figure out why I felt like shit, there was something wrong about this whole situation and it was pissing me off. Something needed to be right.




Lilac: Hot, 18, Horny, Relentless!



I slumped into my house about 10 pm, knowing I needed to get to bed. I put Tigger out and played with him a bit, thinking I needed to eat dinner. I wasn't hungry, however. My stomach was a mess of emotions.

But if I was anything, I was horny still. Lilac's naked body on my bed was an image that had me constantly horny. Almost like a robot, as soon as Tigger retreated to his bed -- it was late, his time, he was 11 years old, which is 77 years to us -- I headed up to my bedroom. I stripped nude, lying on the very spot Lilac had been lying. I smelled her perfume, it was so sexy. My hand grabbed my seven inches of swollen penis, slowly stroking it, thinking about her. I was fantasizing about her petite nude body riding me, swallowing my dick into her bald cunt, screaming while I fucked her senseless. My dick was leaking precum as I masturbated, I was so fucking hard for it to happen for real. As my fist wrapped around my throbbing, seven inch penis, I laid back on my bed, dreaming about nude Lilac, fantasizing about shoving this hard prick into that hot little pussy -- what did she call it? "Young and tight." It was definitely young, at age 18; and I was sure she was right, it probably was insanely tight. She needed a big dick to stretch it out, didn't she? She could lie back and let me jam my meat into her spread-open vagina, or bend over and let me stare at her hot all while I pumped her doggy-style. Yeah, that's what the bitch needed, a good poking from the rear, driving her around the bed like a toy for a horny man. She's just a dumb fucking whore, a young little slut who needs to be used. Fuck, she was so sexy, I loved fantasizing about her.

Then I heard a noise, the doorbell. I snapped to attention, listening intently. There it was again, someone was at the door. I didn't have to think long to guess who it might be.

I jumped out of bed, sliding on my black briefs and a pair of jogging shorts and t-shirt, hoping I didn't look sexy at all. "Hang on," I yelled, bouncing down the steps. I was excited, hoping it was her; but I was hating myself, already telling myself that I couldn't let anything happen. Maybe, after all, she was here just to let the dog out -- although, she would have done that hours ago. And why do it, if I was home?

When I opened the door, Lilac smiled softly at me, her hair brushed nicely, soft makeup on her face. She was not dressed slutty, she had on a white t-shirt with colorful peace symbols all over it, and a loose skirt that hung down to her knees. She sounded almost apologetic, shrugging as she spoke. "I was lookin' for your car, I didn't know if you needed me to put Tigger out again tonight."

Keeping check on my emotions, I acted like it was strictly business. Honestly, I was growing tired of this; the slut needed to back off, I made myself perfectly clear earlier. "No, uhhh -- I took care of Tigger, he's asleep now I'm sure."

Lilac shrugged again, her hands clasped together in front of her petite figure, as she stood on the doorstep still outside my house. "Um, oh, ok -- well, anything else you need taken care of?"

As much as I now hated her for pressing the issue, I found myself smiling; laughing, actually. This was almost like a joke, she was the opposite of the Terminator -- she was going to kill me with love, and she couldn't be stopped, she couldn't be reasoned with. She was the Teasinator, or something like that. "Lilac -- damn, you're just a little devil, aren't you?" My frustration was coming out as brutal honestly, although my tone of voice was playful, not confrontational. "Why are you tempting me so bad?"

Again, she shrugged. "Cuz -- you're temptable." She took my playful tone as an invitation, and she stepped into my house. Her perfume was refreshed, she smelled sweet and sexy. My spine tingled, my hair almost standing on end, I was nervous as shit. She was 18, I was 45, and she was the one in control, I couldn't stop her. So I didn't send her out of the house, instead, I closed the door -- looking around to make sure no neighbors were overtly spying on me, seeing me alone with my wife on vacation, letting the sexy high school girl into my house late at night.

"My mom thinks I'm at a party at my friend Payton's house," announced the girl, pausing to look around. "I'm 18 now so I can stay out as late as I want, my Dad doesn't really care, and my mom's asleep now anyway."

I wasn't sure why I needed to know all that information, but it sounded ominous -- like she was justifying her ability to be at my house a while. That was not good. She headed into our living room a few steps away, and dutifully I followed. My brain was formulating a list of things to say to her, almost like a speech from her father -- how I was married, she can't be tempting me, she had to stop, she had to go home, I didn't want this, and I didn't need the distraction when my business was falling apart, I had to interrupt a vacation for it. That's what I needed to tell her, in a cross voice, make her cry if I had to, she had to understand.

A strange thought floated in my tumbled, angry brain. As much as I needed to cuss her out, I suddenly fixated on her father. Imagine being her daddy? "Lucky daddy," I sighed to her, thinking out loud, "he gets to see you every day."

Lilac peered at me quizzically, then grinned with appreciation. "Oh, I s'pose -- I'm the lucky one, he's really great, he's sweet and nice -- and I guess he's hot, too, my friends say." She was setting me up, admitting that about her father. "Hot -- like YOU."

My mouth was dry, I had to put an end to this. I pointed to the sofa nearby, wanting her to sit there, while I sat down on a small chair. Time for a talk. As she perched her small figure on my sofa, I was gathering my strength to unload negativity on her. "So -- you just won't stop, will you, Lilac?"

It was a challenge to her, I think; she continued to study my face, her small, sweet smile on thin pink lips no leaving her visage. "Oh, well, I'll stop if you want me to -- but, you don't want me to, do you?" She grinned more, putting her hands behind her back, and arching her chest -- pushing her breasts forward in her t-shirt.

She knew my eyes were on her bosom in her clothing, but I forced myself to peel them away and look at her face. "Okay, I mean, you know I don't WANT you to stop -- but the point is, Lilac, you HAVE to stop -- it's not what we want, it's what you should do, that's what's important." I sighed, looking away, trying to find the strength to be brutally direct with her. "Like I said earlier today, I just can't -- you have to leave me alone, sweetie."

Pivotal moment coming.

The 18 year old blonde shrugged, pretending to think about it a split second, but she sat upright on the sofa. "So -- then, tell me to stop?"

And she stood up on the carpet, a few feet in front of me, and put her hands to her hips. She grabbed her t-shirt, and yanked it straight up, off her body, tossing it aside. She had no bra on.

She was at it again, showing me her nude body.

You know, the definition of "insanity" is doing something a second time, expecting a different outcome. Was she insane for doing this? She had already stripped nude for me, and I said no, tossing her out of my house. So she was doing it again? Why would the result be any different?

She was standing there in front of me, topless, exposing her nude tits, the soft creamy flesh with brown nipples surrounded by her deep-bronze, tanned body. I was frozen, not expecting that she would do it again. No rationale girl, as gorgeous and popular as she was, would set herself up for this kind of rejection -- twice in one day! Still, seemingly unaware that I was going to have to say no again, the petite teenager grinned at me, lifting her small hands to her chest, fondling her own little melons, rolling the soft A-cup boobies in her petite hands. She watched me, seeing me staring intently at the sight of her teen boobs.

Her voice was casual, relaxed, confident. She continued her onslaught, purring, "Sooo -- go ahead, tell me -- not to do this?"

She let go of her tits, putting her hands behind her back, unhooking her loose, long skirt. The garment fell to her feet, and I immediately saw she didn't have underwear on either. As she stepped out of her skirt, slipping her sandals off, she was nude again, buck naked -- once again showing me her tits and cunt, this time standing in front of me in my living room.

Same attempt, stripping nude for me; same result, right. Why she thought the outcome would be different tonight from earlier in the afternoon, just a few hours ago, I had no idea. What did she know that I didn't? She was just a stupid, horny 18 year old, right? I was the mature 45 year old, right?

"Ohhhh, no," I panted, my eyes locked on the sight of her bald cunt, it was petite and pink, glistening wet, "No, no -- don't do that, you can't do this again."

"No?" The anxious little bitch was stepping towards me, where I sat on the chair. "You sure? You really sure?"

She didn't stop, she climbed onto my lap -- and I let her. Straddling me, her wet cunt was inches from my crotch in my jogging shorts, and her small hands rested on the base of my neck, around my shoulders. I could hardly speak, wanting her to go away and to fuck me all at the same time, my penis was trying to bust through my shorts. I was saying something like, stop, I'm married, I can't; but my words were soft, uninspired. Having her nude body on my lap had me drunk with lust.

The nude slut wiggled her ass, sliding forward, grinding her wet nude pussy on my aching penis in my shorts. "I know you're married," she sighed, "it's okay, I won't tell anyone!" Her back arched more, she was pressing her tits towards my face, those teen boobies were inches from my eyes and mouth, and as she ground her pussy into my dick through my clothing, she panted at my reaction. "Mmmm, don't you like these? I knoooow you do!" She did know me.

I gulped, still telling myself it wasn't too late to save myself. "Hun -- really -- please, don't -- I'm weak." I was begging.

Lilac wasn't going to save me. "No," she disagreed, her small body under half my weight, under half my age too, gyrating her wet vagina into my erection and soiling my shorts, "you're strong -- I want a strong man -- make me feel good!"

My hands -- I didn't know where to put them; I didn't want to touch her body, it would encourage her to continue. I wanted a more passive resistance; maybe if I didn't respond to her pussy grinding on my cock, she'd go away. "No, really," I continued to pant, "we shouldn't."

"Shhh!" She put her little lips to my hear. "I won't tell anyone, promise -- my li'l secret." I felt her cunt, sopping wet, drenching my shorts and crushing my hard erection in my clothing against my stomach. "Look how bad I want you, I bet your wife doesn't want you this bad -- does she?" She was purring, grinning, seeing I was not pushing her away. She continued to dry-hump my dick through my shorts, and now she was brushing her nipples just inches from my mouth, enticing me to suck them. "I'm sooo tight, and young -- I want a big, adult cock to take me -- make me your little cumslut -- you KNOW it'll be good, I'm so tight, you're sooo hot!"

My eyes were riveted on that nude tit, right in front of my face. I was developing an alternative plan; she felt so good, she looked so good, I couldn't say no twice. But -- could I her what she wants, without taking my clothing off? Without fucking her? A compromise -- a half-hearted one, but something to salvage a part of my moral dignity. "So -- you can't tell, anyone, ever -- EVER?"

Lilac giggled. "Tell them what?"

I swallowed hard, gathering my strength, making a mental plan, plunging in. "Tell them what I'm about to do to you." I was feeling better about this, hatching an evil plot to get her off, then send her home.

She snickered again. "And what's that?"

I answered quickly. "This." And I put my plan into motion.

My mouth shot forward, I wrapped my lips around her entire nearest teen tit, salivating on it, suckling it, my tongue lapping at her firm nipple. Fuck, her boob was so soft and sexy, so petite. One of my hands clenched her ass, fondling the nude soft flesh. My other hand dove into her crotch, pushing her body away from my crotch, relieving the pressure on my penis inside my shorts. Then, giving her what she wanted, I shoved my fingers against her cunt, finding it silky, fleshy, wet, warm. She was so fucking turned on, and, indeed, so tight. As I mouthed her booby and groped her small asscheek, I sent two fingers upwards into her vagina, a couple knuckles deep, giving her aching pussy some of what it wanted -- my attention.

"Uhhhhh, FUCK!" She shrieked so loud it undoubtedly filled the house. Her pelvis crushed into my hand, her knees spread as she straddled me, letting me finger-fuck her teen vagina. "Uhhhhh, yeah!" Arching her back, clenching my neck, she let me swallow her tit into my mouth as I sucked hard, and shoved fingers farther into her hole.

Lilac felt my twin, stiff fingers probing into her vagina, and she began humping them, almost like a little cock sticking out of my lap, pushing her slender hips downward to take my finger inside her hole. Her wet clitty rubbed my palm, she was crunching my hand between her pelvis bone and my thigh bone. Meanwhile she leaned back, pushing her small breast into my warm mouth, then sliding her body sideways so her other boob replaced it, leaving a wet trail of my saliva across her naked bosom. I slipped my other hand up from her ass to hook my arm behind her slim back, allowing her to lean to the side more.

Soon, she was lying almost sideways on my lap, spread-eagle still, arching her back around my strong arm behind her. I had my face bent over, licking and sucking her exquisite young tits back and forth, tasting teen flesh for the first time in, what, almost two and a half decades. My fingers were stiffened, and with her sitting almost sideways, I could shove my two fingers deep into her cunt, until the rest of my hand was against her cuntlips, filling her with those two digits. She was indeed fucking tight, I felt her pussy grasping my fingers, milking them, as I pumped them inside, driving hard in and out, her cunt juicy wet.

"Uhhh, uhhh!" Her head was back, her blonde hair falling down, her mouth trembling. "Uhhhh! Uhhhh!"

I had her maximumly aroused, sucking her tit and finger-fucking her. Her vagina was sopping wet, drenched, making squishy noises as I shoved fingers into it; but then she tensed, let out a loud howl, and the juices around my fingers tripled. Her muscles spasmed, she was having a fast, intense orgasm -- days and days of flirtation building up, releasing, the fantasy enjoyed.

My fingers were drooling with her cuntjuice, it was pooling on my palm. As her cum subsided, I pulled my hand out of her twat, looking at the clear fluids coating it. She looked longingly at my fingers too, then at my face, a half-smile, her mouth open because she was still panting. Instinctively, without thinking about it, I raised my fingers to the young woman's mouth, and the 18 year old let me put my messy fingers inside. Looking at me with those lovely, lusty hazel eyes, the blonde sucked her own pussy juices off of my fingers.

Her hand gripped my wrist, keeping my two fingers in her mouth. Maintain eye contact with me, she swirled her tongue around my fingertips, then began sliding my fingers in and out of her mouth to suck off her juices -- and to emulate a blowjob. She was blowing my fingers, showing me what her mouth could do.

My plan had been to get her off without me taking any clothing off, and the way she was looking at me, sucking my fingers, I had a feeling my plan was going to fail.

Indeed it was. Lilac slipped off my lap, kneeling on the carpet in front of my chair, and her mouth lowered to the crotch of my shorts. "Mmmm," she moaned, rubbing the side of her petite face over the bulge of my shaft inside, finding my dick super-hard for her, tenting out my shorts, her cheek moistened by her cunt juices that she'd rubbed into my clothing. "Mmmm, baby, you're sooo hard -- let me see it?"

Sitting there, knees apart, staring at the blonde rubbing her gorgeous face against my dick through my clothing -- surely, I was going to say yes. I was supposed to say no, I knew I had to say no, but I wanted her so fucking badly.

"Baby," I grunted, trying to find the strength to remain clothed. "You know -- no, it's -- it's a bad idea."

The blonde's hazel eyes were locked onto mine, making sure I was gazing directly back at her, as she rubbed her face harder against my dick through my clothing. "Pleeeease," she begged, her tongue sticking out, licking my shaft through the clothing a little, "you know you want this, don't you baby?"

I didn't say anything at all, grunting and remaining still, trying to resist what no mortal man can resist, and she wasn't waiting any longer for permission. Her small hands reached inside the elastic waistband of my jogging shorts, and inside my black briefs at the same time, yanking them down. I lifted my ass, so she could remove them. Yeah, I was not stopping her, I was so fucking hard. The smell of her body and cum had me drunk for lust, I had to at least let her suck me off. Maybe, I figured, if she relieved me by using her mouth, I'd have the strength to end it here and send her home without vaginal penetration. That, I thought, would let me say I've never fucked another woman -- the Bill Clinton defense, right. Worked for him, and he was the President.

"Ohh, fuck, it's HUGE!" The girl's small hand wrapped around my thick base, pointing my seven inches fat manhood towards the ceiling. My bulbous cockhead was streaming precum out of the slit; the purple veins and rigid bulges on the fat shaft were throbbing heat, burning a hot temperature against her small palm. Below, my shaved balls -- yeah, I shave them -- ached with an oversupply of sperm. I could see from her reaction she wasn't just teasing me, or complementing me to be nice. Her eyes gazed up and down the length of my erection, her lips were smiling, she was unquestionably admiring it with great approval. "Fuuuck, baby, it's sooo big -- ohhh my gawd, I fuckin' looove our cock, mmm!"

Keeping it pointed to the ceiling, she looked up at my face as her lips moved forward. Her small pink tongue darted out, she kept my cock aimed upwards, and she began swirling her mouth around the head. "Mmmm, ohhhh," she moaned at me, staring at me, watching me examine her exploration of my married penis with her teen tongue. She was moving slowly and deliberately, but going crazy on it. Alternatingly, she would just lick it -- sticking out her tongue to slide it up and down my shaft, or swirl around my fat cockhead -- and then kiss and suck it. Almost eating it, her lips surrounded it on the side, sucking a chunk out of it; not touching her teeth to it, but mouthing it, leaving a sloppy wet path. She wrapped her lips around the helmet at the top and shoved it inside her mouth, looking at me, watching her cheeks stretch for it.

Lilac smiled, seeing me stare at her giving me the blowjob. "So, gonna stop me now, baby?"

I had to laugh -- no, I wasn't.

After working the head and shaft endlessly, making it completely sloppy with her saliva, she moved her mouth down to my balls. The young woman was an experienced cocksucker, I could tell, expertly sucking my scrotum into her mouth and running her tongue around the sack, while not tugging too hard to cause pain. Her eyes remained focused on mine, she was seeing how much I was enjoying it.

Oh, the bitch could suck a cock. I was glad I let her do this, although feeling really fucking guilty about it. I couldn't take my eyes off of her gorgeous, tanned face, her thin pink lips wrapped around my concrete pole, applying loving licks and powerful sucking to me up and down my shaft.