Don't Ask, Don't Get (Part 1) free porn video

Prologue

My name is Steve Reynolds and I’m not a very nice man.

I never have been, really. I was never one of the good guys, even as a k**. I’ve always been a gambler, always pushing my luck, even when that luck came at someone else’s expense.

If you don’t ask, you don’t get. My dad taught me that, at a very early age. Son, you make your own luck in life. Another favourite of his. Nice guys finish last. Full of clichés, was my old man. But in my younger days those clichés served me well.

Especially when it came to girls.

Sure, I got verbally abused. Laughed at. Belittled. Slapped a few times. Even punched once or twice when the object of my attention turned out to be already taken. But I’d always keep on gambling, against the odds, until eventually the stars would align and I’d get lucky with a pretty young thing who was way out of my league but drunk enough or desperate enough or just plain curious enough to go home with the guy whose brash confidence seemed massively disproportionate to his decidedly average looks.

Years ago, that’s how I ended up with my beautiful wife. Persistence and blind luck landed me what should have been my biggest win ever. She was truly stunning, and truly lovely with it. Kind, compassionate, caring. All the things I wasn’t.
There was a problem, of course. Gamblers are addicts, and we’re the worst kind of selfish. It’s such a rush, getting to play the odds and win. Better than any d**g I’ve taken, and fuck knows I’ve done most of them. Maybe not better than the sex itself – at least, not if you’re doing it with the right person – but surely a close second. And just like d**gs, or sex, the euphoric hit that accompanies each win is tragically short-lived. Even if it’s a fucking gargantuan, massive win beyond all expectations, pretty soon it’ll be time to go looking for the next one.

I think my wife thought she could change that, at first. Maybe I believed she could, too. She apparently loved me enough to try. I loved her too, but clearly not enough in the end. So now she’s my ex-wife, and I’ve got two teenage daughters who I never see, who’ve grown to hate me nearly as much as I hate myself.

Which leaves me here: forty years old, hairline receding, paunch expanding, living on my own in a shitty council house in a shitty Essex town, claiming what I can off the state whilst working cash-in-hand on whatever shitty jobs I can pick up each week. All because I’m still gambling. Still pushing my luck. Still chasing pretty young things, like the tragic old creep I now am. Still unwilling to settle for women of my own age, unable to find sagginess, wrinkles, greying hair and neuroses attractive.

Yeah, like I said. I’m not a nice man.

Of course, now I’m older, the odds have got longer when it comes to acquiring suitably appealing female company. Much longer. Sometimes I have to settle for young, and not worry too much about pretty. But still, I’ve found that if you’re really prepared to push your luck, and you don’t mind throwing some hard cash into the mix, it’s surprising just how far you can go. Sometimes – just sometimes – if your morals are loose enough and you’re not bound by the shackles of needing to be a good person and you’re willing to really take advantage of a situation and to hell with the consequences… well, then you might just end up way beyond the realms of the likely, the plausible, the believable… and end up smack bang in the middle of what all you nice guys could only ever believe to be a fantasy.

Which, I suppose, brings us neatly to the events which I am about to recount here. I’m not proud of what I did. It doesn’t make me look good. In fact, it makes me look pretty vile. But can I bring myself to regret it? Any of it? Of course, not.
Like I said. I’m not a very nice man at all. As you’re about to find out.

Act One

On the day in question – a lovely sunny Saturday, in late June – I was in an unusually positive state of mind. It could very easily have been different, but such is the life of a gambler. As usual, I’d ended up in the bookies the previous afternoon, losing most of my week’s earnings. But then I’d dropped my last fiver on a triple acca, and all three horses had somehow come through for me. That meant I’d left with a nice fat roll of twenties in my pocket which totalled a cool two grand.

Two fucking grand. That had given me the shivers, just feeling it in my hand. Two grand bought some serious quality time with some proper top-notch hookers. But that just wasn’t my style. Where’s the thrill in paying for a guaranteed result? Where’s the anticipation? The chase? The challenge? Much more fun to patrol the pubs and clubs in town, searching for a suitably attractive young inebriate who could be persuaded to accompany me home. It would be a long shot. It always was, these days. But I knew from experience that throwing a chunk of my winnings into the mix might just shorten those odds a lot. With two grand in my pocket, I was pretty sure I’d be getting lucky that night.

So, I’d showered and shaved, and was going to head out to the barbers before they shut. I hadn’t been for a while and my thinning hair was approaching full-creepster length. It wasn’t a good look, and I knew I’d be needing all the help I could get later on when I was trying my luck. Trusting in fortune and the cash in your pocket was one thing. Looking like you still lived with your parents at forty was another.

That left me getting dressed in my bedroom, thinking of what the night might bring, idly looking out through the blinds at my small, unkempt garden below. The window was cracked open and I could hear the sounds of youthful frivolity from outside. Female frivolity, by the sound of it.

I smiled. That would be Lauren Carter, the girl next door. Well, one of them, anyway. Her mother, Amy, had churned out five k**s already, with another one on the way. At eighteen, Lauren was the eldest. As far as I knew, each of her siblings had a different father. The family had moved in a few months before, having been ‘re-housed’ by the council. Rumours were that they’d been evicted from their previous place and got dumped on our estate because no-one else would rent to them. Based on the endless comings-and-goings, the parties and the constant noise at all hours of day and night, I suspected the rumours were true.

I peered through a gap in the blinds, craning my neck slightly to get a better view. Two bikini-clad teens – Lauren and a friend – were playing some kind of cheapskate version of volleyball, batting an inflatable beach ball back and forth over a washing line. Unusually, Lauren’s younger siblings weren’t out there screaming and swearing and throwing things around. But then I’d seen her mother stuffing them all into a seven-seater minicab earlier that morning. Off to Pontins for the weekend, she’d said. Needed a break. Oh, and by the way, Lauren’s having a pool party this evening so there might be some noise.

Right. Like every other fucking Saturday night, then.

I finished buttoning my shirt and focused all of my attention on the girls playing outside. The ‘pool’ was a crappy inflatable thing that was slowly being filled by a hose. The party clearly hadn’t started yet, so I figured the girls were just bored and passing the time until the others arrived. I recognised the friend. She’d been around a few times and I knew her name was Shannon. Not because I was a proper stalker or anything, but simply because I’d heard Lauren yelling it at the top of her voice enough times.

My smile broadened as I watched. Neither girl could be called naturally beautiful, but in keeping with the local Essex tradition they made the best of what they had with copious amounts of make-up and artificially-induced tan. And whilst their bodies weren’t glossy-magazine material, their curves were mostly in the right places.

Lauren was the larger of the two, in every aspect. I guessed she was around five-six in height. I didn’t need to guess that she carried rather more weight on her than her smaller friend. Happily, a fair amount of that weight was on her chest, in the form of tits that were already captivating my attention as she threw the ball around. In my eyes, they were plenty enough to distract from her not-exactly-beach-ready tummy. I guess I’ve always been a sucker for a nice rack. Her hair, highlighted in a variety of blonde shades, was tied back in a loose plait. It was as fake as her tan, but it looked good on her. Hell, she looked good all round in the sun’s late-afternoon glow; almost pretty, in fact, with her false lashes and heavy eyeliner managing to emphasise her femininity rather nicely. Not that I was looking at her face. Her bikini might have been surprisingly modest in its cut, but it was still showing off more than enough to hold my attention.

Shannon was shorter and skinnier, and had her back to me at that point. I spent a moment admiring her small, tight, firm-looking arse which I considered to at least partially make up for her having very little up top for her bright red bikini to restrain. Her hair was darker than Lauren’s, cut with a tight fringe and just streaked with blonde highlights. She also had more visible ink on her, with a cheap-looking dragon tattoo spiralling all the way down her back and several other unidentifiable patterns on the backs of her legs. She laughed at something Lauren said, went and grabbed her phone, then posed for a selfie with the ball. Nobody’d ever call her pretty, with her sharp-looking features and perpetual scowl, but she clearly had some skill with her makeup brushes and scrubbed up well in a Cleopatra type of way. Still looked better from behind, though.

I chuckled to myself, as I cast my critical judgement on these two teenagers, like I was God’s gift myself. Like I wouldn’t fuck either one of them in a heartbeat, given half a chance. I smiled, posing a fantasy choice: Lauren or Shannon? Shannon or Lauren? The correct answer was, of course, both. But I figured if I absolutely had to choose, it would be Lauren every time.

It wasn’t the first time I’d perved on her from a distance; far from it. Hell, she was eighteen, she lived next door and even when she wasn’t sunbathing in a bikini, she had a liking for clothing that left very little to the imagination. I’d driven past her earlier in the week, tottering down the road in her heels, wearing a skimpy crop-top and a skirt so short I could actually see the curve of her buttocks peeking out from underneath.

Classy, she wasn’t. Not that I gave a shit about that. I also didn’t care that, as a person, she really wasn’t very pleasant. It didn’t matter that most of the interactions I’d observed her having with other people had been vulgar, aggressive and confrontational. Or that she’d been particularly rude to me when I’d called round early in their tenure next door, to ask for the music to be turned down. Or that, as far as I could tell, she seemed to spend most of her life either glued to her phone or shouting at someone, sometimes both at the same time. None of that mattered in the slightest. At least, not from where I was standing at that moment.

She was a teenage girl with a cracking pair of tits, in a bikini. I wasn’t looking at her fucking personality, that was for sure.

I watched Lauren’s chest bounce delightfully as she threw the ball up in the air. I swallowed hard, feeling movement in my pants. I was such a fucking pervert, standing there in my darkened bedroom spying on two young girls. But sometimes you just have to accept what you are. In truth, my rampant libido had always been a problem – I was always looking, fantasising, imagining, and occasionally getting to act out those fantasies when I got lucky enough. It simply never stopped. That probably had something to do with why my wife had taken the girls and moved to the other end of the country. It wasn’t just the gambling.

I noted that Lauren’s energetic movement had caused her bikini bottoms to slip down a little. They looked a little on the big side, despite her not being short of curves to hold them up. I watched, enraptured, as she u*********sly tugged them up a little, then smoothed the material over her buttocks as she waited for her friend to ‘serve’ the ball. She might have been an annoying little chav, but right then she had some serious fucking appeal.

I unzipped my fly and manoeuvred my hardening cock out of my pants. Might as well get warmed up a little for the night ahead. Once you’ve accepted you’re a pervert, it’s actually quite liberating.

I stroked my length gently, encouraging the blood flow. I’m not gigantic in that department, but nobody’s ever pointed at it and laughed, either. Maybe a little larger than average. Whatever, it still does the job. And, as it happens, genetics have blessed me with a party trick that never fails to introduce some alternative surprise and delight into bedroom proceedings. The surprise tends to be hers – whoever she is – whilst the delight is usually all mine. But I’ll come to that later.

I started wanking properly, peering through the blinds as Shannon bounced up and down like a tennis player, waiting for Lauren to hit the slow-moving ball over the net. I had a perfect view of the smaller girl’s rear, moving alluringly under the red material. She was lighter on her feet than Lauren and her bikini was a better fit, which sadly meant it had no trouble staying in position. That didn’t stop my fantasy. I imagined what those tight, sunbed-tanned cheeks would look like if that slinky red material did slip down; picturing their supple smoothness in my mind; imagining their firmness in my hands; my fingers gently questing further and further until I found the tight, sweet hole I so desired…

I felt my cock harden even more, and clasped my fingers tighter as I masturbated slowly, each squeeze rewarded with a shiver of pleasure. In my mind, Shannon’s red bikini bottoms were off now, torn away and discarded. My fingers had done their work, and now my cock was thrusting hard into that deliciously tight crack, right up inside Shannon’s rear hole as she squealed and writhed beneath me whilst Lauren looked on, fingers working between her legs as she obediently waited for her turn.

I was breathing harder now. I bet Shannon took it up the arse all the time. I bet they both did. Dirty little slags. I gazed at them again, leaping and bouncing in the garden, just the slightest shimmer of movement beneath Shannon’s skimpy bikini top. My brain somehow managed to superimpose stunningly vivid imaginations of me pushing her face down onto my bed, naked now, those tiny tits forced down hard onto the sheets, holding her down as I rammed my whole length right into her tight little anus again, and again, and again…

Shit! I realised my cock was starting to jerk involuntarily and I forced myself to let go, before the pressure mounting in my balls could spill over into orgasm right then. I was just quick enough. The tingles faded, leaving just a solitary drop of clear liquid oozing out. That was close. Too close. Warming up was one thing, but I wanted to make sure I was still fully charged for later on.

I shut my eyes and thought ugly thoughts until I started to soften again.

Looking outside, I was surprised to see that somehow the inflatable ball had ended up over the fence and in my garden. The two girls finished what had apparently been an argument about who was going to fetch it back, then Lauren – evidently the losing party – shoved a sunlounger against the fence so she could scramble over.

I watched the movement of her arse as she clambered up onto the fence with her back to me, struggling to hold on as she balanced precariously on the top. Our street is on a hill, and each house and garden is at a different level, stepping up or down. My garden was maybe a couple of feet lower, with a crumbling brick retaining wall underneath the fence. Clearly, she didn’t fancy the leap down. Instead, she reached down tentatively with one leg, perhaps too dim to work out that she was never going to touch the ground that way. Right then, I didn’t care about her intellect. All I could focus on was the stretching of the blue material over her curvy, soft-looking butt.

Subconsciously, I took hold of my cock again, before I realised what I was doing and forced myself to stop once more.
Finally working out that she needed both legs on my side of the fence to be able to drop down, Lauren swivelled around and scrabbled down awkwardly into my garden. Once on the scrappy grass, she bent down, apparently picking a splinter out of her foot, inadvertently giving me a fabulous view down her bikini top. Her tits hung pendulously, suspended by the thin blue material, jiggling as she balanced on one leg. My brain fed me another vivid fantasy image; of those tits suspended above my chest, as she ground herself onto me, gasping in ecstasy…

I blinked, and the vision disappeared. Back in reality, Lauren finished with the splinter and trotted over to where the ball had landed. She didn’t seem remotely concerned to be trespassing on my property – she didn’t even bother looking up at the house. I wasn’t concerned. I was still entranced by the movement of her nearly-naked body. I took in the sight of her tramp-stamp tattoo at the base of her spine – the only visible ink I could make out, and a lot less off-putting than Shannon’s. She batted the ball back over the fence, giving me another wonderful glimpse of her chest in motion.
That was when she realised she couldn’t get back over to the other side.

She started looking around my garden for something to stand on, but there was nothing for her to find in the dilapidated yard. After a couple more attempts to jump and pull herself up the fence, she gave up, realising that her arms lacked the necessary strength to haul up the eight-foot height.

She was trapped. In my garden.

Something about that notion sent the blood rushing back to my dick. But it also gave me an idea. With some difficulty, I forced my hardening cock back in my pants and carefully zipped myself back up. It wasn’t easy, but I knew it would be worth it, because I now had a good reason to see Lauren up-close in that bikini. I headed down the stairs with some difficulty, willing my cock to soften. There’d be time enough for that later. If I could just get some proper, in-focus, close-up memories of her body, that would give me some proper gold-standard wank-bank material to come back to time after time.

Heading through the kitchen, I unlocked the back door and hurried out into the sunshine, hoping I’d detumesced sufficiently not to be carrying an obvious bulge.

“Can I help you?” I called, as I walked down the steps from the weed-strewn patio onto the unkempt lawn.

Lauren looked up, surprised at my sudden appearance.

“Just so you know,” I continued. “If you’re planning to burgle my shed, I wouldn’t bother. There’s nothing in there.”

“I ain’t burgling your stupid shed, dickhead. I was just getting my ball back, innit.”

I shrugged, wondering if she actually knew how to be pleasant to anyone.

“No need to be rude. And you could have just rung the bell. I’d have tossed it back over for you.”

She sneered. “Yeah, I bet you’re good at tossing.”

I was rendered momentarily speechless. Not by her insult, which was actually crudely amusing, but by the fact that I had approached closely enough to properly see the shape of her tits. They really were worth looking at. Not so enormous as to be comical, but more than enough for a handful. And so firm-looking! The bikini top didn’t seem to be wired for support – in fact, it looked to be a size too large for her just like the bottoms – which meant the gravity-defying shape I was admiring had to be more natural than artificially lifted. I desperately sought out the shape of her nipples under the material, but clearly they were soft enough not to be visible at all. No matter. I was still entranced.

“Fuck’s sake, can you stop staring at my tits, now?”

I smiled, and tried to stop imagining what it would feel like to slip my hand underneath the cloth and squeeze, gently. Then, to tug a little harder. Then, perhaps, to roll a hardening nipple between thumb and forefinger…

“Sorry,” I said, my smile widening to a grin as I finally managed to regain control. “Although if you don’t want people looking, you could try wearing more clothes.”

“I don’t mind people looking, just not you, you dirty old wanker.”

I laughed, although there was no humour in her eyes.

“Old? Yes. Wanker? Yes. Dirty? No, actually. I’ve just had a shower,” I said, attempting to raise a smile. Not that I cared either way, I just wanted a distraction so I could sneak a look further down her body. My eyes caught just a hint of camel toe: enough of a hint for my fertile imagination to fill the gaps, as in my head I immediately slipped a finger down behind the material and into what I imagined would be a soft, slick, hairless groove.

“Whatever. Are you gonna help me get out of here, or what?”

I blinked back to reality again.

“Sure. I can give you a leg up, if you want?” That would work very nicely. I’d hold my hands together for her to stand on, and boost her up onto the fence. Which meant I was sure to get a feel of the softness of her body against mine, and if I played it right then at some point I’d have her gorgeous soft, young arse only inches from my face. I could feel my dick moving again in anticipation.

Clearly, she’d reached the same conclusion. Which was why was looking at me like I was crazy.

“Ugh. Like I’m gonna let a pervert like you actually touch me. Ain’t you got anything in your shitty garden I can stand on?”

I shook my head. I really hadn’t.

“I guess you’ll have to come back through the house,” I offered.

Before Lauren could respond, Shannon appeared over the top of the fence, apparently balancing on the lounger Lauren had used to get up and over from the other side.

“The fuck’s taking you so long?” she asked Lauren, before realising I was there. Then she laughed. “Oh, right. Is this the guy you were on about before?” She regarded me briefly, then giggled unpleasantly. “He does look a bit ****y, doesn’t he?”

Lauren laughed, with no hint of embarrassment or apology.

“Yeah, ****y Reynolds, innit.” She was fucking shameless, I had to give her that. Not that I took the insults personally. I figured they’d think any forty-year old, balding bloke who lived on his own was a creep. Hell, they were right. I was a creep. I’d just been knocking one out watching them play volleyball.

“I’m sure your mum wouldn’t like it if she heard you saying things like that,” I pointed out, although I knew full well that Amy Carter wouldn’t give a shit.

Lauren looked at me contemptuously. “Hardly. She’s the one what called you that in the first place, innit, after you was trying to look down her top the day we moved in. Now are you actually gonna let me out, or what?”

“Charming little thing, aren’t you?” I said, sarcastically. “Come on, then. You can go out round the front.”

“If I’m not back in five minutes, call the police,” Lauren joked over her shoulder as she followed me towards the house.
Shannon laughed nastily, and disappeared back down behind the fence.

I opened the back door and held it for Lauren to go through first, like a gentleman. Of course, my intentions were less than honourable.

“No way,” she said, refusing to go past. “I ain’t having you walking behind me, staring at my arse.”

Damn. Rumbled.

I led the way slowly through the kitchen and into the darker hallway, sizzling with frustration that I was so close to her, yet unable to keep enjoying the view. My mind was racing with possibilities, many of them likely to end in a prison term. But I had to do something, or else she’d just be walking out of my house with no more memories for me to revisit later on.

Fuck it. It was time to take a chance.

I stopped suddenly and turned around. In the narrow passage next to the staircase, I was effectively blocking her path. She managed to avoid running into me and instinctively took a step back, keeping her distance. The tension between us rose immediately. I wasn’t even entirely sure what I was doing, but I just kind of ran with it anyway.

“So, look. Lauren, isn’t it?”

I stole a glance down her body, looking at her curvy little tummy with its layer of excess flab and cheap gold piercing. My eyes roved further down, trying – and failing once again– to trace the outline of her intimate parts beneath the bikini bottoms.

“Wow, you know my name. You’re a proper stalker. Now stop fucking perving at me and let me past, or I’ll start yelling.”
I could feel the devil in me coming to the fore. The gambler. The chancer. The you-only-live-oncer that was responsible for so many of my questionable decisions in life.

“Hang on a minute, don’t start screaming yet,” I said, hoping to sound reassuring. I doubted I sounded anything of the sort, but at least she stayed quiet for a moment. My heart started beating faster in anticipation. One last chance to back away. Yeah, right. Like that was ever going to happen. I gave in to my base instinct, and stared her straight in the eye.

“Okay, you’re right. I am perving at you. Because I’m a massive fucking pervert, alright? A dirty old man. A tragic, lecherous old bloke whose wife has left him and who spends his day leering at teenage girls in bikinis.”

She frowned, clearly taken aback by my directness. A flash of fear clouded her face momentarily, perhaps concerned that ****y Reynolds was going to try to live up to his name. She had nothing to fear, on that front. Not really my style. But I didn’t care if she believed it, just for a moment.

“But I’m something else, as well,” I continued. “I’m cash rich, at least for today. Got lucky on the horses yesterday – accumulator came through for me. Took home a very big wad, last night.”

“So?” she snorted, recovering slightly. I realised that I kind of liked the way her nose crinkled up in disgust. It softened the usual harshness of her expression. Hell, it was almost cute. “Am I supposed to be impressed?” she continued. “You’re a sad old wanker living in a shitty council house, you ain’t ever gonna be a player. The fuck you telling me this for, anyway?”

I smiled again. “I’m not trying to impress you, Lauren. I’m just saying how it is. I might not be a player. In fact, yeah, I’m a sad old wanker. But here’s the thing. I’ve got cash in my pocket, right now…” I took a deep breath, and went for it. “And I’ll give you twenty quid to show me your tits.”

The words were out of my mouth before whatever was left of my conscience could get a hold of me. Impulse had overruled caution, as usual. The tension in the hallway went sky high. I felt the surge of adrenaline, just like I always did when I was pushing my luck.

Lauren was looking at me, mouth open. Silent, for once. I felt a spike of satisfaction that the gobby little cow actually had nothing to say to that.

Still, my heart was pounding, knowing that everything was balanced on a knife edge. Now was the time to laugh nervously and claim I’d been joking. Now was the time to stand aside, open the door and let her leave. Now was the time to step back from the precipice and avoid the headlong plunge into very dangerous waters.

Well, fuck that. I never had been very good at walking away from danger. It was time to double down, instead. I reached into my jeans pocket and pulled out the thick roll of notes I’d collected from my win at the bookies.

She made a disbelieving face, then recovered her voice.

“Oh my god. You’re actually fucking serious, aren’t you?”

“Uh huh,” I nodded.

“What do you think I am, some kind of fucking slag?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

She actually looked shocked at that and went to push past me. “Fuck you, you sick old perv...”

I stepped back, avoiding contact with her but still blocking her path. “Hold on. Twenty quid is twenty quid, right? Just for a quick flash. Right here, right now.”

My heart was pounding even harder, now. She’d stopped in her tracks, again, and I could see her processing the situation. That was good. That was unbelievably good, because it meant that – against the odds – she was actually thinking about my offer. I could sense what seemed like c***dish greed vying with her apparent disgust at what I was asking her to do.

I silently willed her on, and peeled off a twenty from the roll just so she could see it. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she wrestled with the decision. I wasn’t sure if they were actually tattooed on, or just made up to look like they had been. Either way, their neatness was as unnatural as her lashes. Not that it bothered me. I doubted she’d be naturally pretty underneath all the paint, but she looked nice enough done up as she was.

The moment stretched on. I actually started to shake with anticipation. She really was thinking about it. It actually might happen. And then, with a resigned sigh, she apparently made her decision.

“Give us the money, first.”

Oh hell, yes. Fucking bingo! When you gamble big, you win big. And it looked like it really was going to be my lucky day. I smiled genuinely and held the note out for her.

She reached out and grabbed the twenty, then took advantage of my own distraction as I was returning the cash roll to my pocket, pushing past me in an instant, before bolting the last few yards to the front door. I was taken aback, but made no attempt to stop her.

“Haha, dickhead,” she sneered, as her hand found the latch.

Mentally, I shrugged: you win some, you lose some. Although I hadn’t lost yet. I knew the door was deadlocked.
She pulled at it, but it just rattled it in its frame. Frustrated, she banged on the wood with her fists. “Let me out of here, you fucking pervert!”

“Okay, sure. But I’ll be needing my money back, if the deal’s off.”

She looked at the note clutched in her hand. I could almost see the calculations going through her head again.
“Come on. You clearly want that,” I said, nodding to the twenty. “It’s easy money. All you need to do is slip that bikini top down. I’ll stare for a bit like the pervert I am, then you put it back on and I’ll unlock the door. You leave, twenty quid richer.”

I fished the keys out of my other pocket and jangled them at her. I felt my confidence building.

“Either way, that door doesn’t open until I get titties or money. So, what’ll it be?” I asked.

She struggled with the decision for a beat longer, then scowled at me.

“Fine, whatever,” she sighed, then flipped down the material of her bikini top, tucking it underneath each breast.
Her action was sudden enough to stop my breath, as I realised I was staring at a pair of real, honest-to-god teenage tits. Sure, I’d seen tits before. Of course I had. I’d cast my eyes over some very fine young racks in my time. But this was somehow different. This was a girl I already knew. Sort of, anyway. And now she was standing in my hallway, flashing her lovely tanned chest at me.

I gorged on the sight. Just as I’d guessed, she didn’t need any real support from the bikini; she was still young enough to possess natural gravity resistance. Her nipples were perfectly placed, with unexpectedly huge areolae that made me briefly wonder if some lad had already knocked her up. I didn’t care. They were a fucking gorgeous sight. There was just the slightest hint of tan-line from the bikini - like most of the local girls, she’d clearly spent some quality nude time on a sunbed. Underneath her right breast was a small scripted tattoo. Live every moment. Right. I wasn’t a fan of ink, but it was small enough not to detract from the overall appeal.

“Jiggle them for me,” I said. My voice sounded strained. My cock was raging hard again.

“Piss off, you’ve seen ‘em. That’s enough,” she said, swiftly rolling the material back up and tugging it back into place. The tanned flesh beneath barely moved. So fucking young, and so fucking firm. I really wanted to grab hold of them right there, but I knew that was way out of the question.

I jingled the keys again, shaking my head. My confidence continued to build.

“Uh uh. I need a little jiggle. Then you get to go.”

“For fuck’s sake,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. But, to my surprise, she dutifully rolled down the material again and gently shook her chest. I watched, barely breathing, as her movement sent gentle ripples across her chest. Her nipples were just starting to harden slightly in the chill of the hallway, the delicious pink of those large areolae just beginning to wrinkle and darken. What would they feel like to run my tongue over, I wondered?

That thought was enough to prompt a pleasurable shiver, and my cock shifted uncomfortably in my pants, pushing hard against the restriction of my jeans. I saw Lauren glance at my crotch, then look away, clearly disgusted by the very evident bulge.

“Thank you,” I smiled. “Now, do you definitely want to leave, or are you up for earning some more cash?”

She pulled up the bikini again, and shook her head.

“I ain’t sucking your cock, if that’s what you want.”

It was a curious assumption. It made me wonder about what past experiences she’d had. And, indeed, what the potential might be for future experiences. I parked that thought and smiled, reassuringly.

“Fair enough. But I’ll give you forty, if you strip off properly. Top and bottom.”

“Forty? What, on top of this?” She said, waving my twenty back at me, disbelief written all over her face.

“Yeah. That’s sixty quid you’ll have earned. Just for flashing your tits and gooch to a dirty old man. Come on, I mean it’s not like you’ve never got naked in front of a stranger before, is it? You k**s do it all the time online, right?”

“Fuck off, you ain’t taking no nudes of me. Anyway, that’s different, innit. Boys need nudes first before you can get with them. And no fucking way am I getting with you.”

“No photos. Just a look. With these…” I pointed to my eyes briefly, then dug out the roll of cash and began counting off the twenties.

Just like buying a car. Always let the seller see the cash.

It only took a moment longer for her to make the decision. She held out her hand for the money and I passed it across. I frowned, catching what seemed like a flash of desperation in her eyes as she seemed momentarily transfixed by the cash. Then the moment passed and she scrunched it up tightly in her right fist. It wasn’t like she had anywhere else to put it, and clearly she didn’t trust me enough to leave it on the floor.

“Alright. Get looking, then,” she instructed.

Using the hand that wasn’t holding the cash, she untied one side of the bikini top, slipping it off over an arm before discarding it on the carpet. Freed completely from their artificial restraint, her tits bounced gently. She really did have a cracking pair, I thought, but my attention was already further down her body, anticipating an even more special reveal. Without pausing, she tugged the bikini bottoms down one-handed and stepped out of them, then stood with hands on her hips, one leg slightly in front of the other.

“Happy now?” she asked.

“Very,” I replied truthfully, and croakily. Right then, I was having difficulty speaking at all. Damn fucking straight I was happy. Teen pussy, right there, just feet away from me. This was shaping up to be a fucking historic day, and I knew I’d be knocking one out over this particular memory for years to come.

I ran my eyes over her body, barely believing what I was looking at. An eighteen-year old girl, fully nude, in the flesh, not five feet away from me. I felt my gaze drawn, inevitably, to the sweet spot between her legs. Unsurprisingly, there were no tan lines. Also unsurprisingly, she was fully shaved, although it had evidently been a few days since she’d carried out any maintenance as a dark triangle of stubble was just starting to show. She had a belly piercing, and a small butterfly tattoo just above the fuzz of tiny short hairs. With her legs slightly parted, I could see the beginnings of a sweet, neat-looking groove.

Fuck, that was hot. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my head. I felt dizzy with excitement. Dizzy enough to push my luck even further.

I took a deep breath, unzipped my trousers, and allowed my erection to spring loose. Without hesitation, I began working my cock again. Lauren’s reaction was immediate: a yelp of horror, and an immediate covering of herself. One arm in front of her breasts – her fist still gripping my cash tightly, one hand shielding her intimate parts between her legs.

“Seriously, like, what the actual fuck?” she exclaimed, looking like she might throw up.

“Relax. I’m just enjoying the view.”

“Oh my god, that is so gross.” I was disappointed to see that she wasn’t looking at my cock. In fact, she was looking anywhere but there. But at least she wasn’t screaming and banging on the wall for Shannon to come and rescue her.

“Come on. Another forty, just to stand there whilst I finish.”

She shook her head, but I could see in her eyes that the decision was still to make. And in the end, I knew it would come down to the numbers.

“Do the maths. That’s a hundred quid, Lauren. Think what you could buy with that. And all you need to do is just stand there looking bored for a few minutes.”

She looked uncertain for a moment, then I caught a hint of that curious desperation again before she suddenly reached forward and grabbed the cash once more. With it safely in her grasp she tucked both hands behind her back, as if protecting her hard-earned from me. I didn’t care. With her back up against the front door, it meant she was fully exposed; her arms pushing her lower body out slightly so I had an even better view between her legs.

“Fine, go on then, have a fucking wank. I don’t care,” she said, resignedly. “You’d better hurry up though. Shannon will wonder what’s going on.”

I didn’t need any further encouragement. I locked my eyes on that hot, sweet groove between her legs and squeezed harder on my cock. It didn’t take me long to get back in the rhythm. She really did have a sweet looking pussy. Okay, it wasn’t exactly smooth, but I didn’t have my face in it so that hardly mattered. And the stubble didn’t extend messily onto her thighs, or stretch far up to her belly button. It was just a neat triangle of shadow. I figured she’d still look hot with a nice natural bush down there, even if she didn’t shave at all.

I pumped away for barely a couple of minutes, lost in a fantasy of touching and tasting her, switching my gaze between those lovely round tits and their improbably large areola, that just-a-bit-too-curvy tummy and that sexy, tight-looking groove. It wasn’t long before I felt my balls begin to tighten. All thoughts of saving myself for the evening were gone – all I could think of was how far I could go with this girl in front of me. It was time to find out.

“Kneel down,” I suggested, breathlessly. “Let me come on your tits.”

Lauren made another look of horror. “Ugh, no fucking way. I’m having to stand here looking at an old man wanking. That’s bad enough. I don’t want your dirty old man jizz on me.”

“Another hundred,” I panted. That was a ridiculous amount of cash, really. I knew it made me sound desperate, but right then I was. And hey, in for a penny, in for a pound, right?

“A hundred?” She looked at me sceptically.

I switched hands, gently stroking myself with my left whilst I reached into my pocket for the roll of notes again. I tried to fumble more twenties from underneath the elastic with one hand, but it was no good. I reluctantly released my cock, then peeled off the right amount from the roll and threw the notes towards her so I could get back to wanking. She gathered them up from the floor and screwed them tightly in her fist, then backed up against the door again, making no move towards me. I realised I’d made a strategic error, as she now had the money and no reason to actually comply with my request. It looked like I’d just lost another ton for nothing.

Oh well. It was worth a try.

But then, unbelievably, she actually stepped forward and lowered herself to a kneel. Fucking hell. She clearly hadn’t realised her advantage, or else had suddenly discovered some weird sense of fair play. Either way, I didn’t care. She was actually going to let me do this. I watched her every movement, as I fiercely pumped away at my cock. Her tits wobbled alluringly as she lowered herself down.

“Not on my face, yeah?” she requested.

I laughed and agreed, before resuming my work in earnest, gripping my length with my right hand and working it hard, up and down the shaft, keeping it slow whilst rolling my foreskin over the end and back each time. The sensations were heightened by the sight of her gorgeous teenage body below me. Although her pussy was now out of my sight again, her tits looked fabulous from above.

She was staring down at the floor to the side, clearly desperate not to look at me or my cock. I reached down under her chin and tried to lift her face to make eye contact, but she wasn’t having it.

“Get off me…” she said, slipping out from my grasp and looking away, determined to stare at the carpet.

Something about that expression of bored disgust made me jerk my cock even harder. I was actually getting off on the fact that she didn’t want to be there. I wasn’t proud of that, but I couldn’t hide it. Like I said before, I’m not a very nice person.

I gazed down, as I felt the tingles start again in my balls. Her dark false lashes fluttered briefly, and she glanced up. Finally, I’d caught her eye. The nervous anticipation I saw in her expression was enough to take me over the edge. I grunted with pleasure.

Realising what was about to happen, she leaned back to get her face as far away from the action as she could. Her gorgeous breasts lay fully exposed in front of me, jiggling as she adjusted her position on her knees, putting her arms behind her for support.

I smiled, knowing she was about to get a surprise.

At that glorious sight, my cock jerked suddenly in my hands, catching even me unawares and sending a few tiny drops of clear liquid arcing way over her head. The pleasure shuddered right up my spine, as I bent my knees and aimed towards her chest. I had the briefest of thoughts – that it would be fun to come all over that almost-pretty face and ruin her make-up so she’d have some explaining to do when she returned home – then my orgasm took me fully in its grasp. I grunted with shock at the intensity of the pleasure which exploded through my body as I shot my first proper load straight down onto her tits.

“Ewww…” she complained, as an unexpectedly massive rope of thick, white come splashed down her front.

Yeah, my party trick. Maybe not as impressive as it was a few years ago - in my twenties I’d been a regular one-man bukkake machine. But my overactive balls were still capable of generating an improbably huge ejaculation.

Breathless, I shot another copious load, which spattered onto her chest and trickled down her cleavage towards that chubby tummy below. The sheer excitement – the wrongness – of what I was doing, just added to my pleasure.
I gasped as my cock jerked again, sending another gobbet of milky fluid splashing down.

“Oh my God! That’s disgusting!” she complained, struggling to shuffle backwards on her knees. But I wasn’t done yet. Another three gloriously delicious jerks sent waves of pleasure cascading through my body, and sent even more come erupting thickly from the end of my cock. Her tits were already completely covered in my emissions; those delicious pink areolae only just visible now beneath a thick spattering of milky translucent fluid.

I shuddered as my orgasm gave one final horse-kick of electric delight, muscles clenching at the intensity of the sensations emanating from my cock and balls. Gently rubbing my dick as the pleasure subsided, I squeezed a final few drops of come out onto that tanned teen body before finally stepping back, breathless, to admire the view.

I stood there, panting hard, just staring spellbound at her come-covered tits and praying that I’d be able to remember exactly what they looked like for all eternity.

It didn’t take long for Lauren to break that spell.

“Oh my fucking God. You disgusting fucking freak! It’s all over me!”

“And it does look rather good on you, even if I say so myself.” I couldn’t suppress a smile.

“You’d better not fucking tell Shannon. Or my mum.” She said it like she really meant it. It sounded incongruously innocent, momentarily reminding me of just how young she really was.

Still, I just laughed. She really was stupid if she thought that was on the cards.

“Like that’s gonna happen. Oh, yeah, by the way Amy, I paid your daughter two hundred quid to strip naked for me and then I came all over her tits. I don’t think that’s gonna…”

I was cut off mid-sentence by a loud banging from the front door, followed by a muffled female voice from outside.
“Lauren! Are you in there? Are you alright?”

Lauren looked at me, frozen in a state of abject panic. She was nude, drenched in my come, and her friend was now just feet away behind the front door, apparently coming to her rescue.

“Don’t fucking let her in!” she hissed at me.

I laughed, as I hurriedly fed my softening cock back into my pants and zipped up. I toyed with the idea of demanding my money back in return for not flinging the door open right then, but decided even I wasn’t enough of a bastard for that. Shannon hammered again, which was enough to send Lauren into fresh panic.

Frantically scrabbling for her discarded bikini, whilst still trying to keep hold of the cash scrunched in her fist, she was about to head back down the hall to the kitchen when I had an idea.

“Not that way!” I instructed, keeping my voice low. “Get upstairs. The bathroom. You can get cleaned up in there, and pretend you were just having a shit or something.”

For a moment she looked at me like she truly wanted to kill me but then, without needing any further encouragement, she turned and dashed up the stairs. Yes, I stared. I stared at those gorgeous tanned buttocks jiggling all the way to the top, imagining what it would feel like to slip my cock between them and thrust deep into her from behind.

Shannon started banging and yelling again, bringing me back to reality.

“Let me in! If you’ve fucking done anything to her, I’ll fucking kill you, you sick bastard!”

I waited until Lauren was safely out of sight, then carefully opened the door.

“What’s with all the shouting?” I asked, calmly. “There is a doorbell, you know.”

“Where is she? What have you done with her?” Shannon snarled, shoving the door and pushing past me into the hall.

I smiled. “Calm down. She’s just using the bathroom.”

Shannon looked at me like I was mad, then put her head into the living room to check for her friend.

“You’re a fucking liar! I swear to God, if you’ve laid a finger on her, you’re a dead man. I fucking know people, yeah?”

“Lauren!” I called. “Do you think you could hurry up, please? Your friend’s threatening to have me killed.”

The toilet flushed upstairs and I looked up to see Lauren emerging from the bathroom, looking slightly dishevelled, adjusting her bikini.

“Leave it, Shannon,” she called down. “It’s fine.”

“The fuck are you doing in his bathroom?”

Lauren shrugged, looking a little more confident as she made her way down the stairs.

“I needed a shit. Didn’t want to stink out our house before the party, innit?”

I laughed at that, genuinely impressed at her ingenuity. Maybe she wasn’t as dim as she appeared.

“Fuck’s sake, I was worried about you,” Shannon sighed, beginning to calm down. “I thought he might have a*****ed you or something,” she said, looking at me with a scowl.

“Clearly you were mistaken,” I said with a smile. I looked at Lauren, who averted her eyes briefly.

Shannon was still looking between the two of us, seeming to sense that something wasn’t adding up but not able to square exactly what that could be.

“Aww, babe, were you actually worried about me?” Lauren asked. She sounded genuine. Again, I was impressed. It was just the right thing to say to defuse the tension.

Shannon gave me one more hard look, then softened a little.

“Yeah, course I was. I mean…” she said, looking at me with disgust. “You’re in here with ****y Reynolds for ten minutes, what was I gonna think?”

“Sorry, hon,” Lauren shrugged. “I would have messaged you but my phone’s still back in the garden.”

“Oh, come here, you stupid bitch,” Shannon said, finally relenting as she opened her arms for an embrace.

I watched as the two friends hugged briefly, until Shannon stepped back suddenly, wiping something from where her tummy had pressed up against Lauren’s.

“Eeew, what’s that?” she said, holding a hand in front of her. It glistened with something gelatinous. I looked at Lauren’s midriff and realised she hadn’t been careful enough with the tissues in the bathroom.

“Oh my God. Is that…?” Shannon lifted her hand to her nose briefly. “Oh my God, it’s come, isn’t it?”

“No!” Lauren said, sounding defensive enough to provide absolute proof that it was, indeed, my ejaculate.

Shannon looked between the two of us, her face a picture of incomprehension, as she puzzled through the implications of what must have happened. Lauren just stood mutely, looking horrified. I think I probably just looked pleased with myself.

After a pause, Shannon reached her conclusion.

“Shit, Lauren. You fucking went and sucked his dick, didn’t you?”

“No!” Lauren and I both said, in unison.

Shannon just stared at us.

“Then why the fuck have you got his come on you?”

“I haven’t…” Lauren said, rather pathetically.

“Actually, she has,” I contradicted. There was another opportunity here if I played it right, which meant honesty was the best policy. I locked eyes with Shannon, so she could see I wasn’t lying. “But she didn’t suck me off. She never touched me, I promise. I just… well, I just paid her two hundred quid to get naked and let me come on her tits.”

Shannon looked incredulous. “Wait… what? Two hundred quid? Bullshit!”

“Show her the money, Lauren,” I instructed, before looking back at Shannon. “She’s not cheap. But worth every penny.”
Reluctantly, Lauren revealed the cash that had been scrunched in her hand.

“Fucking hell!” Shannon exclaimed, staring at the crumpled notes.

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” I added, still looking at Shannon. Still keeping things under control, for the moment. “Maybe you’d be up for earning a little easy money, as well?”

“Piss off, I ain’t a fucking whore,” she responded, looking accusingly at her friend.

“And neither is lovely Lauren here, who’s now two hundred quid richer,” I interjected before Lauren could respond. “She’s just a girl with a good eye for business.”

Shannon scowled back, but was clearly still lost for words. I knew I had to get in quick, before she just turned tail and left.

“Cards on the table,” I continued, holding my hands out in an expression of honesty. “I am a dirty old man. I know girls like you would never go near me without a considerable incentive, but the good news is that I could offer you a very considerable incentive indeed if you were to, say… come upstairs to bed with me now…” I returned my attention to Lauren. “Both of you.”

Shannon’s scowl turned into a sneer.

“Yeah, right,” she spat. “You’d need, like, a fucking grand to get me into your bed.”

I smiled, knowing I’d won.

“Alright, deal,” I said, smiling.

“You what?”

“I said, alright. I’ll pay you a grand if you both come to bed with me. A thousand quid. I’m good for it,” I said, pulling out the roll of cash and waving it at them both. “Lauren knows I play fair, don’t you?”

Both girls stared at the money.

“You taking the piss?” Shannon asked.

“Absolutely not. You must have an hour or so before the party gets going, right? I’ll pay you to spend that time with me, in my bed. You just have to be naked and prepared to indulge the fantasies of a dirty old man.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“It means he wants to shag us both, babe. Right?” Lauren suggested, turning to me for confirmation. I caught the same flicker of desperation in her eyes that I’d seen before. Was it just greed? Or something else? I decided I didn’t care, either way.

I nodded with a smile. The two girls were looking at each other uncertainly. Lauren looked like she wanted the money but didn’t want to admit it in front of her friend. Shannon looked like she didn’t believe the amount on the table. All I cared about was that neither of them had said no, yet.

I shrugged, knowing just how much of a long shot I was aiming for. It would only take one of them to bottle it, for it to all be off. But until that happened…

I made a show of putting the money back in my pocket.

“Look. It’s your choice,” I said, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice. The adrenaline was truly pumping again. “You can walk out of here right now and spend the rest of the evening dreaming about all the stuff you could have done if you’d taken the money. Or you could give up an hour of your lives, let an old man do the dirty with you, then go and have a proper shower…” I looked meaningfully at Lauren, “…and forget about me, so you can spend the rest of the evening working out how you’re actually going to spend all that cold, hard cash.”

They both stood, saying nothing, just looking at me. That was fine. It meant neither of them had said no, yet.

“Look. I’m not into anything weird. I won’t hurt you,” I promised. “No whips and chains or dressing up or kinks.”

“Nothing weird? Like some forty-year-old straight up offering teenagers money for sex isn’t weird? You know we’re both only eighteen, right?” Shannon queried.

I nodded, smiling.

“You’re fucking wrong in the head, mate,” she concluded.

She still hadn’t said no, though.

I paused, considering my next move. I caught Lauren’s eye again briefly, and came to a decision. Sometimes you need to push, to get what you want. One-on-one, that often works, just like it had when Lauren was on her own. But when you’re trying to bend two people to your will, backing off is sometimes better. Especially if it looks like you’ve got one of them on side already.

“Look, tell you what,” I suggested gently. “Why don’t you both just think about it for a minute. I’ll head upstairs with the money. You can talk about it and work out what you want to do. If you’re not up for it, just let yourselves out through the front door and forget it ever happened. Or, if you fancy earning the quickest grand you’ll ever earn, then come up and join me. The choice is yours.”

I smiled at them both.

“See you both shortly, I hope. If not, then have a lovely evening.”


TBC