2 comments/ 34530 views/ 3 favorites Group Home Lust By: FranklenStein The jersey isn't long enough on her, reaching only mid-way down her thighs. She tugs at the hem nervously, shifting from foot to foot, offering up more and more of one leg, and then the other as she asks her question. "Do I have any appointments tomorrow?" "Can you ask Ms. Jenny to wake me up at 5:00?" "Can I get a drink of water real quick?" The questions are a nightly ritual at the group home I work at. The question itself is irrelevant, just another excuse to be up after 10:30pm. It's a contest to see who can get away with being out of bed the longest before we staff become flustered enough to start doling out the punishments. But it's her birthday. She knows she'll have to really push her luck before I become truly annoyed with her. She's 18 now, a woman old enough to vote, smoke cigarettes, and do all sorts of other unsavory things. A rare success story whose overcome the odds, enrolled already in the local community college, as resilient as a dandelion. By this time tomorrow she'll be moving into her very own apartment. What's the worst that I can do to her? I'm having trouble focusing on what she is trying to say as the jersey keeps moving, making me wonder if she has anything on underneath. She's beautiful. I've never noticed before, but there's no doubt about it. Something's changed since this morning. Some switch has been thrown, an unexpected gift bestowed. The usual restraint and shyness are gone, blown away like the flames on her birthday cake. I don't have long to speculate regarding her more intimate attire, as a moment later the shirt dances higher yet, revealing her panties as she laughs at whatever response I've managed to come up with. They're a shade of white-blue, different than the ones she'd worn earlier in the day. She'd given me several unsolicited glimpses of the filmy red pair she had on beneath her skirt, lounging on the couch across from me, sitting with her knees apart, then jumping up suddenly with legs splayed, hurrying off to greet another party guest. The replacement pair is pulled snug against her body, the left side wedged high up between her thigh and the pudgy lip of her pussy, effectively outlining the bulge of her sex. I get the feeling that she's picked up the direction of my gaze, but I'm unable to avert my eyes. Not a single stray hair protrudes beyond the elastic piping of that underwear. It's apparent that she keeps her pubic hair, what little she even has, cropped close. Indeed, the way her underwear molds itself against her body makes me wonder if she's shaved herself altogether. I shake my head to break free from my trance. These are not the types of thoughts that I'm accustomed to having about any of the young women I work with, and I'm suddenly very conscious of the fact that I'm working alone. Generally speaking, men aren't scheduled to work shifts at any of the girls' houses, but from time to time, one of us gets pulled in to help maintain coverage. A chatty tribe these teenage girls are, so many little meth orphans who can't seem to get enough attention. One would never suspect they could be so difficult to manage. I didn't start the night off alone. But my coworker has gone home sick with some sort of stomach complaint, the details of which I find it wise not to delve too deeply into. It's no big deal really. We've all been screened, our fingerprints checked against a federal database of murderers, pedophiles, and scoundrels. It's more a matter of not wishing to put any of the staff into potentially compromising positions, than any real concern for misconduct. Nevertheless, those panties have got my mind to wandering. Suddenly I can picture her sitting alone in the bathtub, naked as a jaybird, goose bumps running along the length of her arms and legs where they jut out of the water. I can see vividly her breasts peeking out from behind the bubbles, bobbing on the surface- amazing actually that a teenager already possesses breasts large enough to accomplish such a feat. She's craning her neck as she tugs at and stretches the little lips of her pussy in order to prevent a flat surface for the razor. We can't afford the luxury of shaving cream, and she has to resort to plain bar soap to build up a lather. I can tell that all that pulling and stretching has activated her clitoris, causing it to elongate and peek out from her pink folds like a tiny periscope. I know she'll have to concentrate hard to finish the job properly, the goose bumps gone now, replaced by beads of sweat that cling to her tits and forehead. Her own moisture begins to seep out from her body, helping the razor to glide smoothly over the pale, intimate flesh. When she's finished shaving, she runs the bar of soap over her crotch, a still squared-off edge going over her clit and making her flush, making her thighs go tense. After the first time, she has to do it again. And then again, making sure her pussy is clean and smooth, that she didn't overlook a single follicle. I can imagine her biting her bottom lip, the line between hygiene and outright masturbation blurring. She glances over at the lockless door when she hears voices coming from out in the hallway- one of her nine housemates, or perhaps even the low reverberations of my own, coming to her faintly and adding to her excitement. By now, her moisture comes faster, dispersing in the bathwater, tingeing and infusing it with her scent, so many parts per million, the water level in the tub rising infinitesimally, drop by secret drop. Unknowingly, she'll carry the scent along with her on her body once her bath is done, once the hounding of her housemates drives her from the tub, her hand reluctantly leaving her tingling puss. Without being aware of doing so, she's sending out signals as she hugs me goodnight, a single nostril hair detecting arousal on the air and passing it wordlessly along down low to my brainstem, to the place where those things primal and sightless still live in dark, dank swamps. The arousal trickles undetectable, spreading itself like a virus, the information lighting sectors in my brain. Undoubtedly, her own arousal is several steps ahead of my own, the sensations new to her still and hard to pinpoint for what they are. It's merely something that will keep her tossing and turning once I crack the bedroom door to call "lights-out", something that will make sleep an impossibility, the proximity of her roommates stifling any chance for relief should she even recognize it for what it is, knowing only that her pussy is taking a lot longer to dry than the rest of her body. Free now of the bra, her nipples are hard, refusing to deflate, irritated and insistent against the fabric of the jersey she sleeps in. More trails of arousal are being sent southward, continuing to build until it all becomes too much to take and she has to get up, the need unspecific still, merely a restlessness that manifests itself initially as a sudden thirst, and then a tingle bone-deep in her pelvis that she confuses with the urge to pee. Stumbling back to the bathroom on unsteady legs, the drops coming reluctantly and then stopping, the rasp of the toilet paper across her crotch further confusing and inflaming, bringing her back to me sitting in the office time and time again, making up questions on the fly that can wait until morning. My own chemistry triggered as well now, churning, coughing to life and sending out it's own hormonic invitations, tendrils that flutter and beckon her back, her receptors finely tuned, flickering hot... "Are you even listening to me?" She's still there. Or there again. I realize that I'm exhausted. It's my eighth shift in a row and I can't be certain. But that shirt's unquestionably still there, going up and down, drawing my complete attention. "Careful with that shirt," I tell her. She blushes and her arms go still. "Oh yeah, sorry." "You better have something on underneath..." I say, knowing the answer already and treading some invisible line of conduct. "I do," She tells me, smiling and lifting the shirt all the way to her waist, giving me a chance to examine the way her mound pushes against her underwear, before dropping the hem again. "Don't show me that," I chide her gently. "I meant besides your underwear. You know you can't walk around here without shorts on. Especially when there's a man on shift." "But they're so cute," She argues. "I just got them. My caseworker took me shopping." I wait. Again the shirt comes up. She runs her palm over the front panel, taking another step closer as she smoothes the fabric over her groin. "They're soft. Don't you like them?" She asks. I look away. I can feel myself shaking as I try, without success, to focus on my paperwork. "I like them," she states decisively, taking hold of the waistband and pulling up on the new underwear in order to seat them to best advantage. The move serves to pull the fabric even tighter across the bulge of her sex. Both of her lips are clearly visible, and then, miraculously, the split between them- the doll going anatomically correct, knocking the wind from me. She doesn't notice. She's waiting for me to compliment her on her taste in lingerie. "Camel toe," I say before I can stop myself. Immediately the shirt drops. "Shut up!" She giggles. "I'm serious." She lifts the jersey again to examine herself. "Oops," She says. She has my complete attention now. I've forgotten all about my paperwork as she reaches into the leg of her underwear with a forefinger and runs it downward, pulling the fabric out and away from her body, revealing for the briefest of moments the hint of a cleanly shaved lip. Once freed, the fabric is noticeably damp where it has been pulled flush up against her entrance. She spots the wetness as soon as I do and runs her thumb over it. "Whoops," She says, flushing further and rocking back on her heels, resisting the impulse to flee back to the safety of her bedroom. "Have to pee?" I ask her. "That's not pee..." She laughs, gathering herself. "No?" I ask, feigning indifference. "Don't you know anything about women?" She asks me. "You're not a woman." I tell her, reminding myself as much as her. "18 years-old is a woman." She tells me, raising her thumb to her nose and sniffing it. I laugh, but it rings false. "Oh, that's right. You've been 18 for all of, what, twenty hours now?" The words trip over one another. I can't believe she's sniffing herself like that. She pays me no mind. "What's it smell like?" I finally ask. "Me." She says. "You mean like your pee..." "It's not pee you idiot." She comes even closer, sticking her thumb under my nose. "Smell." Jesus. Her scent is faint, but it's there. Even so, I sniff a time or two before shaking my head. "I can't really smell anything," I fib. "Hold on a minute." The hand goes beneath the shirt again. I can't take my eyes away as she strokes herself through her underwear. I can tell that she's having a hard time pulling her thumb away from her crotch and returning it to me. "Still nothing," I tell her. "Besides, I've smelled pee plenty of times." "You're an ignoramus," She tells me, genuinely concerned by my naivety. "Ignoramus? Good word," I say. This time her whole right hand disappears down into the pouch of her panties. "It was one of my vocab words last semester." There's a hitch in her voice that I've never heard before. "What are you doing now?" I ask her. "Just wait." The hand flits around beneath the shirt. It's as if a small bird, a sparrow perhaps, had become lodged there. Her breathing comes faster, making her breasts rise and fall, the nipples going hard, breaking the clean slopes of her chest. This time when the hand emerges, two fingers are coated in her syrup, as if she's plunged them into a piece of ripe fruit. "Smell now," She tells me. I take hold of her wrist and get the fingers right up under my nose. I breathe her scent in deeply before letting her go, my cock beginning to fill with blood. "Smells good," I tell her. "Not like pee?" "No." She takes another whiff herself, and then surprises me by putting her middle finger in her mouth and sucking on it. "Mmmm," She purrs. "Taste good?" I ask her. "Oh yeah. I taste good." "What's it taste like?" "Here," She tells me. "I saved you one." She offers me her index finger and I waste no time getting it into my mouth. I suck on it hard, as if it were a small dick. My own considerably larger member is beginning to press up against the underside of the desk. She begins making moaning noises before checking herself, watching me as I clean the juices from her finger. "You like it?" She asks me. I nod, still sucking, determined to take in every last droplet of her essence. "What is it?" I ask, reluctantly releasing the finger. "You really don't know?" Somehow I'm able to keep a straight face as I tell her no. "Do you want me to show you?" The words hang in the air overhead. I can't believe my luck, and I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from jumping up and taking hold of her bodily. I manage to eek out a yes, and she glances out into the shadows beyond the office door to ensure none of the other girls are spying on us. All seems quiet. "You sure?" I tell her that I am. Quite sure. I watch as she gathers the jersey up at her waist, trapping it beneath her elbow and reaching across her body with her right hand. I hold my breath as she pulls the crotch of her panties away from her body and off to one side, baring the glorious whole of her shaved pudendum to my view. I'm worried I may faint as she peers down at herself, using her hand to brush away a piece of lint left behind by her underwear, her little finger glancing off her clit. "You ever see one before?" She asks me, a strange smile on her face. She seems utterly unconcerned at having her exposed sex staring me directly in the face. "I've seen drawings before in books," I boast. "I thought they had hair on them." "I've been shaving it since I was 13, silly." "It looks smooth," I tell her. "It is. I just shaved it this morning. You want to feel?" I know this is the moment of truth. Up until now, I've been nothing more than an innocent bystander, a diligent employee just trying to get his work done so he can go home. What man or woman could find fault with me? After all, it isn't my fault if a consenting adult chooses to flash me her beaver. But I know once I touch her, there can be no going back. It'll mean my job. I won't do it. I can't. "Okay," I shrug, as if I can take it or leave it, as if I regularly have newly-minted 18 year-olds offering to let me manhandle their coochies. She comes around to the side of my desk. Her crotch is level with my mouth I note, somewhat frantically. I can smell her clearly now, and I know that her scent will linger long after I'm relieved by Ms. Jenny an hour from now. "I'll just have to crack a window and hope for the best," I have time to think before she takes hold of my wrist, laying my palm flat against her skin. I stroke her gently, my pinky following the path of her own, edging close to the groove that nestles her clit. With a finger I push against her fleshy lip, noting its elasticity. "If feels spongy. Kind of like Jell-O," I tell her. She smiles, pushing her hips forward the slightest bit, as I explore her with my hand. Her eyes are closed and she's moaning quietly, hoping I don't hear, content to pretend for the time being that this display is solely for my edification. "But where does the wet come from?" I ask her. "Feel lower down." She tells me, keeping her eyes closed. I sweep my thumb lower across her lips, catching slightly on some stubble before picking up moisture where they come together over her hole. "It's sweat," I tell her. "Nope." I continue to rub her with my thumb, pulling her glistening lip aside a fraction, getting my first peek at the pink inner lips that hang down. She feels it and tells me to hold her open. "See the hole?" She asks. "That's where the wet comes from." I must look doubtful because she adds: "Put your finger inside if you don't believe me." I waste no time in taking her up on her offer, getting my index finger up against her vagina proper, inserting just the nail before looking up at her. "It's okay," She tells me, her breaths coming faster. "Go ahead and do it." "I'm afraid I'll hurt you." "You won't. Bigger things than a finger can fit in there," She says. I insert a little bit more. My finger goes in easily enough, despite how tight she feels. "Is this where babies come out?" I ask. She nods and then laughs, her cheeks flushed. "Kids and cocks." "Oh yeah." I give her a little more of my finger before abruptly withdrawing, a small sound of disappointment making it's way past her lips. I lay my hand on the desk. We both stare at it as she pulls her underwear back into position. The index finger is glistening with her moisture. "Don't waste it," She says with a nod. "No," I say, putting the digit in my mouth, lapping up most of her juice before remembering my manners. "You want some?" She nods and takes my finger in her mouth, sucking at it even harder than I'd done to her, an unspoken promise in her eyes. After a while I tell her she's not being fair. "You're taking it all and you can have it whenever you want." I try to take back the finger but she sucks even harder. I stand up and move my face close to her, tongue out, fighting for a taste when the finger emerges from her mouth. Soon my tongue is going over her lips. I'm only partially aware of the fact that my dick is pointed obscenely towards her, nudging against her bare leg as we struggle, thumping behind my zipper like a dog's tail against the carpet. She becomes aware of my condition as we share the last traces of her fluid. "You've got a stiffy!" She says, taking a step back before pointing at my groin and laughing nervously. My hips go forward when she says it, but even so I try to deny it, covering my midsection with my hand, trying to smooth over the offending lump. My dick's having none of it though, and when I remove my hand, the lump remains. "Shhhhhhhh!" I tell her. "Not so loud! And I do not have a stiffy." She laughs at me and calls me a liar, boldly poking my cock through my pants down low at the base. "You're hard as a rock. Look at it!" It's true. My cock is pointing straight up, having climbed almost to my waistband. She pokes it in several more places along its length to make her point. "That just happens sometimes. It doesn't mean anything. Besides, you've got a couple of stiffies there yourself," I tell her, reaching up and tweaking a nipple through her shirt. She squeals as I give it a little twist. I know the rough fabric of the jersey will make her nipple stiffer still. "That's only because I'm cold is all." "Mine too," I say. Again she tells me I'm a liar. "Boys don't get stiffies when they're cold. It's because you're horny. Look at that big thing. It's about to rip through your pants." We look together. The damned thing is certainly conspicuous. It's like another person has come into the room. "I am not horny," I insist. "And even if I was, it wouldn't be any of your business." She ignores me, still eyeing the lump in my pants. Again I cover my dick with my hand, squeezing and pressing against it on the sly, making it grow even more. So much blood has rushed to my midsection that I've begun to feel somewhat lightheaded. "It's gross," She tells me, shaking her head. "I think penises are ugly." "My penis is not ugly!" I protest, genuinely offended. She merely stares at me. "I'm serious. Compared to most of the penises I've seen, I'd even say my penis was rather handsome." Group Home Lust Still she looks unconvinced. "When have you seen any penises?" I shrug. "You know, in locker rooms and such. It's not like I've seen a ton of them," I laugh. "But I've seen a few." "Well the ones I've seen were all ugly," She says, refusing to give the matter any further consideration. "Be careful," I warn her, suddenly annoyed at the direction the conversation has taken. "If you keep calling him ugly, I may have to prove you wrong..." "You wouldn't dare," She says. I say nothing but reach down and audibly lower my zipper, staring at her all the while. It's an intimate sound, and all at once the musky scent of her is almost overpowering in that little room, making my nostrils flare. "You're bluffing," She tells me, knowing already that I'm not. I take hold of the button and wait. "You think so?" "Someone would see." She takes another quick glance out into the darkness, squinting hard. There's nothing to be seen. "Everyone's asleep," I tell her. "And this is your last chance. You still say my penis is ugly?" A moment passes and then she nods. She holds my gaze for as long as she can before letting it drop, watching as I pop the button, the flaps of my pants parting. Now only the thin fabric of my boxer shorts shields my dick from her. She's doing that shifting from one foot to the other thing again. "It's handsome," I tell her. "No. I bet it's ugly." It comes out in a whisper. Her mouth has gone dry, as if all the moisture in her body has been rerouted to help lubricate her pussy. I give her a moment to change her mind. "Don't say I didn't warn you." With that I pull my boxers down, trapping the waistband underneath my balls. The motion initially causes my dick to point straight out towards her, as if in accusation of its present condition. But once freed, it slaps thickly back up against my stomach. She doesn't say a word but can't bring herself to look away either. She's squirming more than ever as she stands there, her leg muscles flexing and then relaxing. "Do you still think its ugly?" I ask her, sitting back down in the chair. I'm nervous all of a sudden, aware that I've been charged with the responsibility of having to single-handedly enlighten her as to the merits of the male reproductive organ. Cautiously she moves near, leaning in to get a better look. My dick has begun to twitch, thrilling at all the attention. "It's okay I guess. Why don't you have any hair on your balls?" I tell her she's not the only one who's fastidious about their grooming. She takes another step forward. I get the impression she won't be able to resist taking hold of it for too much longer. Her desire is palpable and I realize, belatedly, that things have gone too far. "Enough," I tell her, summoning up the last shreds of my willpower and pulling the boxers back up over my dick. "It's bedtime and I have work to do." She makes a little sound of disappointment, but straightens up obediently, as if making to head off to bed. "I need a hug," She tells me, stopping suddenly. When she turns and spreads her arms, her breasts rise and separate, the nipples still rigid. I stay put, refusing to look at her, trying to immerse myself in my charts. "Don't be mean," She tells me. "It's my birthday." I sigh as if begrudging her the favor, but get to my feet. The movement causes my pants to slip down around my ankles. Before I can bend to retrieve them, she pulls me close. Previously our hugs have always been chaste affairs, our waists pointedly averted. But this time, as she pulls me to her, her hips come forward, bringing her mound up against my hardness. Even through her shirt and panties, I can feel the heat coming off her body. She grabs onto my hipbones and gives the smallest of grinds before laughing. "Won't that thing ever go back down? You won't be able to ride your motorcycle like that. Besides, it'll probably give Ms. Jenny a heart attack if she spots it." "Oh, I have my tricks to make it go down again..." I chuckle. She pulls back slightly, our hips still pressed together. I'm certain she can feel my dick throbbing she's so close. "What kind of tricks?" "That's not something the birthday girl needs to be worrying about." "But I like tricks," She pouts, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, increasing the friction. "I know, but this is the sort of trick that most boys do when they're alone." I tell her. "Don't some boys do it in front of girls though?" I consider it a moment or two. "I suppose they do," I concede. "But I never have before." "Please can't you show me?" She's begging now. "Stop whining," I tell her, pretending to be annoyed. "I'll show you I guess, but you have to promise not to tell anyone first." "Okay, I promise." The pout is gone, and I can tell by the way she's squirming in my arms that she's pleased at having gotten her way. "No matter what?" "No matter what," She agrees. "Cross your heart?" She does so, solemnly using her right hand to trace the horizontal crossbar, starting at one nipple and going across to graze the other before adding the vertical post, further emphasizing her tits. "Fine. Sit on the desk and just watch. Sometimes it takes a little while." I sit back down awkwardly, the pants still bunched around my ankles as she climbs up on the desk facing me. Her legs part a little and I can once again make out her panties. They look wetter now, as if someone has taken a plant mister to them. "You're a leaky girl," I tell her. She spreads her legs wide, looking down at herself and running her fingertips across the fabric of her new underwear. It's my turn to peer out into the shadows. I can't see anything. I'm not sure I'd care if I did. "Show me," She says, closing the gates of her legs. I stand back up just long enough to pull my boxers back down, my cock sproinging out into the air. I watch her watching me, feeling a bit like a snake charmer as I take hold of myself with my right hand and begin to stroke. I start off slow, squeezing hard when I reach the root of me, making my dick swell and flush dark with blood. I'm in no hurry; the motion is meant more to accentuate my penis, rather than an attempt at bringing relief. From time to time I push my cock down so it's pointing at her. When she licks her lips, I can't help but stroke myself a bit faster, stifling a moan. "That looks like it feels good," she says. "You're starting to leak a little yourself. The little eye is crying." I nod and reach up with my thumb to pick up some of the pre-cum, working it into the head and shaft. I notice that she's got her hands on her thighs, and is squeezing them methodically. High up under her shirt they've begun to glisten she's so wet now. "How come you're doing that?" She asks me. "It keeps it from getting friction burns when I'm jerking off." "Is that part of the trick?" "Uh huh," I tell her, squeezing down low at the base of me and then running my fist slowly up the shaft, trying to call up more of the clear fluid, both of us watching as a solitary drop overflows the tip. It's not enough to grease the whole of me, so I pause to lick my hand before starting up again. I'm in no danger of coming yet, but my dick has flushed a darker shade of red, and little prickly sensations run up and down the length. "You're drying out again," She tells me after a while, keeping close watch on the situation. I move to lick my hand again but she tells me to wait. "I want to do it..." She makes a show of putting several fingers in her mouth, holding them high above my cock so that her saliva drips down, stretching all the way onto the head of me. "More," I tell her. "Get it all on there." She tries to shake the rest of her spit onto me, but senses right away that this is an unduly inefficient way of going about things. She hesitates for only a split second before summoning the courage to take me in hand, feeling my hardness for the first time, even giving my dick a stroke or two and making me moan, before turning the reins back over to me. "It's so hot," She observes, shaking her hand as if nursing a burn. "Hard too. Why's it so hard?" "It's supposed to be hard so it will go inside," I tell her. I watch her eyes, seeing that the mental picture has dropped into place. She appears somewhat woozy with desire, and it occurs to me that if she takes a spill from the desk there'll be some explaining to do. I speed up my stroking to try and bring her back into the here-and-now, jerking myself off in earnest, even using my left hand to rub my balls, making them draw up tightly to my body. She's doing some rubbing of her own now, focusing on her legs, the shirt working its way higher. I stare, watching as her fingertips move to her inner thighs, even going under the legband of her panties slightly before reemerging. "What are you doing?" I ask her, pausing mid-stroke. She blushes but doesn't stop. "I can't help it. She itches." "Who itches?" I ask. "My girl." "Your girl?" "My pussy," She admits. "I'm so horny it feels like ants are crawling on it." "Well cut it out," I tell her. "You're distracting me. I thought you were just going to watch." "I was watching but you stopped." "My arm's tired," I admit. "Then use your other one," She tells me. "Just do it quickly. I can't take much more of this." "I can't use the other one," I say, summoning up a blush of my own as I give my cock a couple of awkward, half-hearted strokes with my left hand to show her. "I'm not coordinated enough." She groans in disappointment and cups her pussy with both hands, giving it a squeeze before letting go. "Let me do it then..." She says. I try, with mixed success, to put on my shocked face. "You can't. It wouldn't be right. Besides, you don't even know how," I argue. "You don't know if I do." She counters. I don't see any sense in pushing the point, and she gets down on her knees in front of me, taking hold of my hardness. As she begins to move her hand and arm, I can tell at once that mine isn't the first dick she's ever handled. She masturbates me for a while, even using both hands like I've showed her. She's doing wonderfully, and I let her go to it, leaning back in the chair and watching her work. "Am I hurting you?" She asks. "No, it feels unbelievable. Get it wet again," I say, taking myself back from her for a moment. I expect her to use her hand again, but instead she leans in close, her lips just inches from my cock. I watch as she opens her mouth and a string of saliva emerges, dripping down onto the knob of me. Her hand joins mine as she works the spit into my entire length. "Again," I tell her, shaking myself obscenely an inch from her chin, as if my dick were some sort of magic wand that will compel her to do my bidding. She surprises me by raising the stakes again, this time leaning in and licking the bulbous head of my cock, her hands taking my place on the shaft. "Yeah, like that," I tell her. "Keep licking." She keeps at it, looking up at me to make sure she's doing it right. Slowly, she licks all the way down to my balls and then works her way back up again. It takes a long time, and when she reaches the top, I can't help but lift my hips a little, pushing up at her mouth. "Stop that," She laughs. "I can't help it. It feels too good." She squeezes my dick hard making the head swell, as if to punish it for its mischievousness. "You want to put it in my mouth, don't you?" She teases. "I bet you even want me to suck on it." "Oh God, please suck on it," I groan. "I can't," She whines, pulling her head away. "Why not?" She blushes, and it takes her a minute to answer. "It'll make me too hot. I won't be able to sleep." "Don't worry," I tell her. "I'll take care of you." She looks unconvinced, but leans back down to give my dick a couple more licks. "How will you do that?" "With my tongue," I tell her. God help me I'll eat her until the orgasms peel her scalp back from her head. She shudders noticeably when I say it, looking me in the eye to see if I'm joshing her. "You promise?" "Yes, just put it in your mouth." I don't need to tell her twice. I can't look away as she bends over me, her long dark hair tickling my legs as her lips come into contact with the head. Already I can feel the suction. And then the tip goes in, her lips catching and pulling on the big ridge of me. "Oh fuck," I groan. "You've done this before, haven't you?" "Maybe..." She tells me, suddenly coy. "Oh you naughty girl..." I say, as she takes more and more of me into her mouth. "Mmmmm...Tastes good," She says around my cock. "Kind of salty." I get my fingers in her hair in order to get her to take a little more. "You're going to get something really tasty if you keep that up," I tell her. Instead of stopping, she sucks even harder, moaning around my dick, the vibrations making me squirm. I can feel her upper body pressed against me, her nipples rubbing up against my legs. She's becoming desperate for friction now, and her left hand is down in her lap teasing out more of her moisture. I'm getting close to coming as she works, and I debate with myself whether I should warn her before I go off. She makes the decision for me though, stopping without warning mere seconds before I reach the point of no return. "Oh God, why did you stop?" I groan. She looks ashamed. "I'm sorry. My jaw hurts. I guess I'm not used to it." "It's okay," I lie. "Don't worry about it." I notice the hand is still working in her lap. "Stop playing with yourself," I order. "But you said you'd take care of me if I sucked on it," She complains. "I meant if you took care of me first." "But I did my best!" She's so frustrated that I think she may cry. "Hush," I say, standing and pulling her to her feet. I help her back up onto the desk. Her legs are closed tight, and I can tell she's not quite sure what to expect. "Lie back," I say, cupping her breasts and giving her a gentle push. "You can only play with your tits. The rest is for me." She moans and immediately takes hold of them, kneading herself as I roll the chair in closer, reaching up under her shirt to tug at her panties. They cling to her skin like a wet bathing suit before the suction gives way, so wet that they're nearly dripping. Her hips go up as I peel them away from her body. I wait until she looks up before bringing them to my face and breathing in deeply. She's quivering now, as if she's contracted a fever, squeezing her tits harder as I reach behind me to stuff her underwear in my bag. "Pull your shirt up," I tell her. Again her hips go up as she works the shirt out from under her, exposing the miracle of her little shaved slit but no more. "Higher," I say. "I want to see your tits while I eat your pussy." She swoons when I say it, but does as she's told. Her tits are beautiful, bigger than I'd expected, with little rosy nipples that pucker into hard pebbles as they're exposed to the air. "No one's ever eaten my pussy before," She whimpers, causing me to hesitate. "Why not?" I ask her. "I guess I never let them." I move in close so that she can feel my breath against her crotch. "Are you going to let me?" I ask. "Uh huh." I reach out and touch the tip of her clit with my tongue, causing her to jump, as if goosed by electricity. "Are you sure?" I ask her. "God yes I'm sure. Do it. Eat my pussy." I don't need another invitation, immediately latching onto a slick, shiny lip with my mouth, sucking on it and pulling it slightly away from her body before letting go and watching as it quivers. I do the same to her other lip, my nose brushing her clit and making her ass jump even higher. "Watch me," I tell her. "Put this under you." I hand her my sweater and she bunches it underneath her head so she can see me going down on her. "I'm going to lick your clit now." She makes a sound from somewhere deep inside of her, twisting her nipples hard as I start to lap gently at the little pink bud of her clit, teasing it from its valley. Her breath comes faster and I'm able to give her a little more pressure. Her thighs close around my head as she lifts her hips, trying to fuck my face with her cunt. I let her grind up against me a little while and then pull free, dropping down a little lower and sticking my tongue inside her hole, pushing the muscle in and out. "Oh my God, you're fucking me with your tongue!" She's getting loud and I have to reach up to cover her mouth as I keep jabbing at her, running my hands over her tits and pinching a nipple along the way. "Hush," I say again. "Or I'll stop. "No, no! Please don't stop!" She begs, frantic to come. I move my tongue back to her clit, and before she knows what's happening I bury a finger deep inside her. Her pussy is unbelievably tight, but after a minute of work I'm able to get a second finger in, stroking the top wall of her and sucking gently on her clit all the while. She's lost all control of her hips, and they buck violently up at me. She's so close now that her voice is escaping in high-pitched grunts, far past the point of caring about how much noise she's making. Even should one of her housemates walk into the office, I know she'd be powerless to stop grinding herself against my face. I can tell she's on the verge of a tremendous orgasm, her nectar oozing freely, coating my face. But I'm afraid that if I let her climax, she'll refuse to let me fuck her. So I stop. "Enough," I tell her, sitting back in my chair, my dick pointing decidedly north. She doesn't quite understand what I'm saying. Although I'm no longer touching her, her hips continue to bounce, seeking out contact. Her pussy is so hot that I expect to see steam coming off it. When she realizes I'm not going to continue, she groans in disappointment, reaching down to try and finish the job herself. I slap her hand away. "Enough I said. It's bedtime." "No, no, no. I'm so horny. Please fix it," She pleads. "There's not enough time. Ms. Jenny will be here soon and I still have to fix myself. She'll have a heart attack if she sees this flagpole in my lap," I say, shaking my dick a time or two. "You said so yourself." She's frantic now. No doubt she's never been this horny in all of her brief sexual career. "Can't we just fix each other?" "How could we do that?" I ask. "What if we rub against each other? That way we can both get some relief." I consider it a moment, trying my best to look reluctant before agreeing. I take her hand and move her so that she's standing over me in the chair- her legs spread and bent slightly- so that her pussy is level with the head of my dick. I start stroking myself again as she spreads her chubby outer lips to expose her clit. It's easy to find now; I could take her pulse in it she's so aroused. I close my eyes until I feel the little bud rubbing against the underside of my shaft. Once I feel it, I take myself by the root and tap my dick against it several times, making her thighs quiver. Her pussy is so wet that it's practically drooling in my lap now. But still I want more. I've come this far. I've risked everything and I want to be inside her. "Get my dick wet again," I tell her, watching as she positions herself directly over me, running her hole over the tip until it glistens. It's too much to take: the heat, the wetness, the proximity. As she concentrates on coating me in her juices, I jerk my hips upward, catching her off-guard, the head of my cock entering her suddenly, making her breath catch in her throat. "Oh my God! What are you doing?" She looks alarmed, but makes no move to dislodge me. "He was cold," I lie. "I'm just warming him up." Warming up or not, I'm moving ever so slightly, sliding in and out a fraction of an inch, the motion causing her folds to pull taut around her clit. Group Home Lust "He doesn't feel cold," She says suspiciously. "He feels hot." "He's much better now," I acknowledge with a shrug. "But how about the rest of him?" She cranes her neck and looks down to where we're joined together. "Isn't it cold too?" "A little," I tell her. "Maybe I can warm up a bit more of him?" She suggests. "Go ahead. I wouldn't want to catch a cold." We both watch as she sinks further, maddeningly slow. It's all I can do not to lunge up and impale her. She's so wet that I go in smoothly despite the tightness of her pussy. "How's that?" She asks when I'm halfway inside her. "Nice," I say. She bounces up and down a minute, generating little squishy sounds at the place where we're connected. "I think I can take a little more." She doesn't wait for my approval, groaning as she raises herself up slightly. Putting both hands on my shoulders, she sinks down on me again, a millimeter at a time, so that only the root remains unsheathed. Her thighs shake with the effort, and I take hold of them, afraid she'll fall down. "Fuck that feels good," She says. "There's still a little piece of me that's cold," I complain. She swallows and takes her tits in her hands, rising up so that only the head of my cock remains inside before giving me her weight, corkscrewing her body down onto the entire length, skewering herself on my dick. It's too much. "I think I'm going to..." She doesn't get the words out. As soon as she bottoms out she begins to orgasm, grinding her clit against my pubic bone and shuddering uncontrollably. I have to cover her mouth as she screams, her pussy clamping down on me, her juices spilling over and coating my balls. When she's through, she slumps against me. I lift her shirt, taking her nipple in my mouth, suckling it until her pussy stops spasming. She's having trouble catching her breath. "I'm sorry," She tells me. "I couldn't help it." I tell her not to apologize. "That was just a little one. There's another one that wants to come out." I put my hands under her thighs, lifting her up so that I have room to move. There's only ten minutes left until I'm scheduled to be relieved, and I hope that Ms. Jenny is running late rather than early as I begin thrusting up at her, maintaining a steady rhythm and thump, determined to bring off an orgasm of my own before we're through. Already my balls have begun to tingle. I'm close, but I want to make her come again. My thrusts come faster, my dick fairly sopping when it emerges from her body. I've never been with anyone who got so wet. I dip my thumb in the puddle around my nuts and use it to work on her clit, grazing it time and time again. She's recovered her wits fully by now and begins to fuck me back, mauling her tits, our bodies making wet smacking sounds as they collide, harder and harder, faster and faster. "I want to see it," She pants, her eyes rolling up in her head. "I want to see you come." "Oh God! Oh fuck!" I groan, leaning in to latch onto a nipple with my mouth. At once she's coming again, her pussy contracting wildly around me, drawing the semen higher and higher up along my shaft. "Now, now, now!" I say, lifting her up and off of me at the last second, taking hold of myself and beginning to stroke furiously, my load exploding out of me in little white arcs that land on her tits and her face and in her hair. She watches in stunned silence, unprepared for all the semen she's coaxed forth from me. We both hear the car door slam at the same time. Ms. Jenny right on time as usual. Hurriedly, we both rearrange our clothes and run for the door- she heading for her bedroom, me off to the bathroom to try and wash the scent of sex from my face and cock. We bottleneck for a moment at the office door, and I lean in for a quick peck on the cheek. "Happy Birthday," I tell her.