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Molly didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so she just kept quiet, looking up into awkward, twisted face of the boy grunting above her. Oh my god, he looks like he's having a stroke. She sighed.

The boy looked down at her, panting, a stupid grin on his face. Well, Molly thought it was stupid. "Yeah, you liked that, didn't you?"

Molly had enough social grace to give a forced smile. Maybe she could convince him to finish her off, anyway. Not as good as cumming from a cock, but better than nothing. "Yeah, that was fantastic, Eddie. You want to . . . ." Her partner pulled out of her and was already off the bed before she could finish the sentence. Screaming now became a viable option, alongside laughing or crying.

"Maybe I'll see you downstairs?" Eddie already had his pants and shirt back on. Time to go back and brag to your friends? she thought. After receiving a weak smile and a silent nod as permission, Eddie left.

Molly lay there for a few seconds, naked, a bit of cum starting to drip out of her pussy. What. The. Fuck., she thought to herself. The sound of the party drifted from upstairs, past the door, which Eddie the Inconsiderate had left two or three inches open. A thin, sly smile crept over her face as she lifted her head up a little to look down at herself and thought, If you want something done right . . . . She moved her right hand to her clean-shaven pussy, rubbing her clit, and let her left hand slide up to her firm, full right breast, squeezing as much of the fleshy mound as her hand could cover. She began rubbing her clit harder, bucking her hips up, letting her other hand move to pinching and pulling her hard, cute little nipple. After about a minute, she threw her hands up in the air and tossed her head back against the pillow, causing her long blonde hair to spread out over the pillow. Her frustration with Eddie was a major turn off; she knew the time for an orgasm had passed.

Molly swung her legs over the edge of the bed, looking around the poorly lit room. The tacky decor and pristine condition (other than the now-soiled bed) made it clear that when teenagers weren't using it as a place to fuck the room functioned as a guest bedroom for the family of Tim, her gay best friend and host of tonight's party. She would have to remind Tim to wash the sheets as part of the post-party clean-up tomorrow. Wouldn't want Aunt Ethel or whoever to be sleeping on cum stains, after all. Eddie hadn't exactly released a torrent of man goo, but Eddie probably wouldn't be the only boy to release a load in the bed tonight. Molly pushed herself forward off the bed and on to her feet, sighing. "Standing shouldn't be this easy after getting fucked," she muttered to herself. As she looked around the room, her eyes passed over the digital clock, and her face sunk. "Oh, fuck!"

The poor lighting which had served to heighten the sensual mood minutes earlier now caused Molly to mutter a constant stream of cusses. "Well fuck," Molly said under her breath, quickly moving to pick up her clothes. "How's Aunt Ethel going to see in this shit? She wears like the worst glasses I've ever fucking seen." Molly found her red, lace-trimmed demi cup bra and hooked it back into place, providing some support for her 32Ds. A few feet away she found her top, a flowery, loose-fitting shirt. She pulled it on over her head and continued looking for her clothes. She managed to find her skirt; now all that was missing was her thong. Molly let out an exasperated sigh and grabbed her phone. She noticed the time again before turning on the phone's flashlight feature. "Maybe Aunt Ethel's got one of these." She crawled around for nearly a minute, her skirt in one hand and the phone in the other. Defeated, she hung her head. "Fuck this shit." She grunted as she stood, and began to put on the skirt; the thong would have to wait until morning, unless that fuckhead Eddie took it. But if that was the case, she would deal with him later. Molly adjusted the skirt. Yeah, it was a little small and tight on her thin, 5'4" frame, but she knew it could at least cover her small but shapely ass. Now looking decent, she grabbed her phone and her little wallet and rushed downstairs.

Several sets of eyes watched as Molly hurried down the stairs. They never seem to give those judgy looks to the boys I fuck, thought Molly. Fucking patriarchy. As Molly was making her way through the crowd, she felt a hand grab her arm and pull her backward. She was about to throw a punch when she recognized it was Tim pulling her in for a hug. Molly's face relaxed with the realization, and they exchanged exaggerated cheek-to-cheek air kisses, her very fair skin sharply contrasted against his ebony tone. "You okay, sweet thang? You nearly messed up my beautiful face!"

Molly shook her head and said, "Yeah, just a little frustrated, boo."

A white boy standing next to Tim smiled at Molly and hooked his arm around Tim's possessively, but didn't say anything. Tim looked like he was about to say something, but noticed the urgency in Molly's face and glanced at the clock. "Oh, girl, you better go! Your mom's gonna kill you if she notices you're still out!"

Molly smiled at her gay best friend and sighed. "Nah, she's with Daryl this weekend looking at colleges in New York. It's dad I've gotta deal with. He was supposed to hang out with his friends tonight, maybe they're still out. Or he's passed out already. He always comes home wasted after hanging with those guys." She gave Tim's hand a squeeze and said, "Alright, I'll see you tomorrow!" Molly turned from Tim, then looked back and pointed at the white boy next to Tim. "You hurt him, I'm going to mess you up!" Molly gave Tim a wink, then finally left.

Thankfully, Tim only lived about two blocks from her house, so the walk wasn't too bad, especially once she took off her heels. It was a very safe neighborhood, nestled in a residential area of a suburb in the Northeastern United States. A little boring at times, but that would be alleviated a little in six months, when she would turn 16 and learn to drive. The early August night was cool, and the air felt nice against her skin. By the time she reached her house, the sweat had evaporated from her skin, and she was fully recovered from the slight overheating from the party.

As she approached her house, Molly breathed a sigh of relief: her driveway was empty. She was nearly at the door when she heard a car approaching. Moving quickly, she made her way up the driveway to the front door, fumbled with the key in the lock, pushed open the door, and slammed it shut behind her just as the car was coming to a stop. "Fuck, fuck, I'm dead," she said through gritted teeth. She allowed herself a brief sob to escape her lips before shaking her head and regaining her composure.

She heard the car door open and the sound of a voice coming through the wall, loud but not shouting. "Come on, Andrew, here we go."

Andrew? My dad? Molly risked a peak through the window next to the front door, and saw a man with an arm around her father's waist, holding him up as he staggered away from the car. She frowned to herself, unsure what to do -- she wanted to help her father, but didn't want to get in trouble either. She watched as her father fell to the ground, causing his companion to start laughing, loudly. Fuck it, he's too drunk to remember anything anyway. She put her wallet on the edge of the couch, dropped her shoes by the door, and walked out. "You guys okay?"

The man helping her father managed to stop laughing and gave her a smile. "Yeah, sure, sweetie. Just gotta get your dad inside. Had a bit too much to drink." Although the voice was slurred, she finally recognized the man as Mr. Worthington, one of her dad's coworkers at a small law office, specializing in real estate. Molly held open the door as Mr. Worthington more or less dragged her father inside the house. She closed and locked the door behind them.

Mr. Worthington was struggling to get her father up the stairs. Andrew was a big man at 6'4". He wasn't particularly fat, but he was certainly not the physical specimen he appeared to be in older photos. Mr. Worthington was 10 years his junior, at 38 years old, and was aging with dignity. He had a full head of thick hair, a well-defined jaw, and clearly had an active gym membership. While Molly was fairly physically strong, considering her height and frame, it was clear to her that she would only get in Mr. Worthington's way. Instead, Molly trailed behind a few stairs behind them. This gave her time to admire the way Mr. Worthington's butt moved as the fabric of the dress pants stretched across it. Her eyes also drifted up to Mr. Worthington's arms, his thick bicep stretching out his polo shirt sleeves.

After a few minutes of slow work, the three of them finally made it to the top of the stairs. "Over this way, here's his room." Molly stepped around them in the narrow hallway, her body brushing up against Mr. Worthington's back, her hand feeling his firm, muscular shoulder. Damn, his wife is one lucky bitch. She quickly moved ahead of them, and pushed open the door for them. "In here, Mr. Worthington!"

Mr. Worthington lumbered down the hallway, his friend in tow, cursing his friend under his breath. As they got closer to Molly, he grunted with effort of carrying Andrew and said to her, "You gotta get your dad to go to the gym, sweetie."

Molly giggled a little, and moved aside so he could walk into her parents' bedroom. "I'll see what I can do. Why not make him go with you after work?"

With a final grunt of exertion, Mr. Worthington tossed Andrew onto the bed. The mattress squeaked under his weight. Molly approached the bed and watched as her father turned onto his side facing away from her, muttered something inaudible, and began to snore. Mr. Worthington gave a big sigh, giving Molly a nose full of whiskey breath, and said, "His shoes are still on. He's lucky I need to go home, otherwise I'd totally fuck with him. You're probably too young to know about that rule, if you pass out with your shoes on everyone gets to fuck with you."

Molly shook her head and said, "I know about that. Last weekend we drew all over Mark's face when he passed out. He went to work down at 7-11 and almost got fired!" Molly's eyes widened a little, and she turned from Mr. Worthington. Oh great, now my dad's friend knows I'm out drinking!

Mr. Worthington just laughed. "Oh man, one day that happened to me, I drank too much the night before, and I had to go to court in the morning. Thankfully I met with the client before going into the courtroom, otherwise I'm pretty sure I would have been disbarred!"

Relieved at the reaction of her father's friend, Molly laughed and shook her head. "That would have been terrible!" A few seconds later, their laughter had abated, and Molly said, "Thanks for taking care of my dad. He's a terrible drunk."

Mr. Worthington shook his head. "Nah, he's a great drunk! Just needs a little taking care of at the end of the night." He paused, thinking about what Molly said, then frowned. "But that's what he's like in public. I know people can be different behind closed doors. Does he drink a lot at home?"

Molly shrugged, looking away from Mr. Worthington. "He's got a stressful job. I can't blame him for wanting to drink."

"Do you ever feel scared of him?"

Molly looked up at Mr. Worthington. His clean-shaven face was gentle, his eyes relaxed, communicating real concern. "No, he doesn't like yell or throw things or hit me or mom or my brother or anything like that. He just drinks a lot, and doesn't want us to bother him. He's just so different, it's lonely when he drinks."

Molly gave Mr. Worthington a forced smile, and he responded by cupping her cheek with his hand. "Okay," he said. "Well, if he ever gets bad, I mean bad bad, tell someone. Teacher, school counselor, me -- someone." Molly nodded, and Mr. Worthington laughed, shaking his head. "Holy shit, that went way more serious than it should have. I'm sorry Molly. Here you are, just getting home from a probably kick-ass party, and here I am bringing you down."

Molly laughed, used a finger to wipe away a tear from her eye, and held the finger up to Mr. Worthington. "I don't even know what this is doing here!"

He laughed and took her hand in his own. "The human body is so weird sometimes." At the mention of "human body," his drunk brain pushed his eyes down her body, checking her out before he could stop himself.

Molly, reading more into the situation than she should have, squeezed his hand and said, "I don't think my body is that weird . . . ."

Mr. Worthington's brain released its control over his eyes, and let him look up at Molly's face. "Oh, no, not at all! Your body is fine. Well, more than fine. It's perfect. I love your body!" Apparently Mr. Worthington's drunk brain had a new hostage. His face flush, Mr. Worthington gave an embarrassed smile. "What I mean is, it's no weirder than any other body."

Molly felt at once relieved and disappointed when Mr. Worthington was finished speaking. After a second's thought, Molly decided that she didn't buy Mr. Worthington's retraction of the compliment. She figured out why he really was looking her up and down. So, Molly smiled. "Well thank you, Mr. Worthington."

Mr. Worthington winced. "Call me Greg, please. You're pretty much all grown up now. I'm pretty sure your dad would want you calling me Mr. Worthington . . . but he's passed out now, that overformal fuck."

Molly laughed. "Thanks, Greg." She realized Mr. Worthington was still holding her hand, so she lowered it, and Mr. Worthington let it slip from his grasp.

Greg looked down at her bare legs, and then back to her face. "Can I get a drink?"

Molly laughed and said, "I think you've had enough, M - Greg. I'm surprised you didn't hit a light pole on the way over!"

Greg looked seriously at Molly and said, "You mean that wasn't a light pole I hit on the way over? What the hell was it then?" He gave her a wink, and broke into a smile.

Molly playfully slapped his chest. "You're such a jerk! I was really worried for a second!" The older man laughed and grabbed her wrist, holding her hand to his chest. She tried to escape from his grasp, but only managed to slide her hand a little against his firm pecs. Jesus, thought Molly. This guy is built!

Greg grinned down at her, holding her wrist firmly for another few seconds before letting it go. Molly retracted her hand back to her side. Greg cleared his throat and said, "So, how about that drink?"

Molly gave him a dirty look and said, "One more drink, and I can't let you drive home."

He laughed and handed her his keys. "Fair trade. Spending the night with a beautiful young woman who is not my wife isn't exactly a sacrifice."

Molly blushed, taking the keys. Play it cool, Molly. "Well, alright. Come on downstairs, you want a whiskey and coke?"

The sound of Andrew's snores receded as they left his bedroom. Greg couldn't stop staring at Molly's tight teen ass, stretched across the tiny skirt. His eyes wandered up and down, from her exposed lower back, down the curve of her ass, and finally to her slim, well-toned legs. They say that skirts like that leave little to the imagination, but Greg's imagination was going into overdrive. And wait -- what was that stain on the inside of her thigh? Was that . . . ? Must just be that imagination, he tried to convince himself.

For her part, Molly was enjoying the effect she seemed to be having on Mr. Worthington. Greg. He's Greg, she had to remind herself. Just a sexy, drunk man who keeps staring at me like I'm a piece of meat. But Molly also had seen his sensitive side. Just a sexy, wonderful man who is totally staring at my ass right now.

Once they made it to the kitchen, Greg had a seat at the breakfast nook and watched Molly prepare two whiskey and cokes. He smiled as she offered one to him, and smiled broadly after the first sip. He looked at her, seated next to him, and said, "Ms. Molly, are you trying to get me drunk?"

Molly blushed. "Too strong?"

Greg shook his head. "Delightfully strong. You'd make a great barmaid. You've got the three talents needed for the successful bartender: liberal use of the booze, a strong will, and a beautiful body." Greg was beyond shame at this point, and didn't react when he saw Molly blush, except to take another sip from the drink, and watch as Molly lifted her own to her mouth. He watched as her red lips parted, thinking about other things that mouth could be doing. He cleared his throat, and said, "So, Molly, any boyfriends?"

Molly shook her head, and took another sip. "Nah, I'm sort of in between boyfriends right now." Her mind drifted back to Eddie the Inconsiderate from earlier tonight. "All the boys I've met just seem really stupid. Like, all they care about is sports and video games. It's okay sometimes, but come on, let's talk about life, politics, stuff that matters sometimes too!" Molly realized she was raising her voice, and offered a bashful apology.

Greg just smiled at her. "Wow, where were girls like you when I was growing up?" Molly tilted her head, confused. "I didn't meet any cute girls with brains until college. Don't worry, you'll find a great guy eventually. I guarantee it."

This did not satisfy Molly. "And until then? I'm stuck with immature, selfish morons?"

"Well, could be. Maybe you just need to find other people besides your school friends to talk about meaningful stuff."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I guess, but what about boyfriends? What, am I supposed to masturbate for the next 5 years until college? These little boys aren't cutting it!" Molly heard what she was saying just a second too late. Maybe those drinks were a little too strong after all.

Greg laughed and said, "Oh, is that the problem?"

"You wouldn't understand, you're a boy." Molly turned away from him, finishing her drink with one last gulp. "I'm going to bed."

As she started to rise, Greg put his left hand on her thigh, pushing her back onto the chair. He held his hand there, squeezing it firmly. "I get it. You want to be having sex with someone you respect, someone you connect with on more than just a physical level." Greg looked into her eyes, and saw her calming down.

She smirked at him. "Yeah. But right now, I'd even settle for someone who connected with me on a physical level. These boys are just looking for a warm, wet hole to pump into for like 30 seconds."

"Wham, bam, thank you ma'am."

Molly snorted. "More like 'wham, bam, you're a fucking slut, get away from me.'"

"Yeah, I never got that. What's with this whole 'I'm a Conquistador' thing?"

"You weren't like that when you were a teen?" Molly asked suspiciously.

"Well," Greg said, "I guess I was. It seems so much worse now. And I think it was a point of pride for a boy if he got a girl off too. But I'm an old fart, we always think it was better in the old days."

Molly laughed appreciating the honesty. "You're not an old fart. You're mature. Like a fine wine." He flexed his bicep, getting a laugh from Molly. "A really fine wine!" She reached out and put her hand on his flexed bicep and gave a squeeze.

As she did so, she felt Greg's hand slide up her thigh, just a little. Her breath quickened, and she slid forward in her seat. Sensing no resistance, Greg put down his glass, empty except for some slowly melting ice, and cupped her cheek in his right hand. His hand felt cold on her skin. She began to get goose bumps, whether from his cold hand on her cheek or the warm hand on her thigh. He leaned his face down toward hers, and softly kissed her lips. Her mouth opened, and she slid her tongue into his mouth. Molly's hand moved from his bicep to his waist, sliding under his polo and onto his firm stomach. Her left hand moved to his face, pulling him closer for a deeper connection.

Molly stood up, causing Greg to pull his head back and put his hands back on his lap. "I'm sorry, Molly. I shouldn't..." Molly silenced him with another kiss. Standing, she was slightly taller than him in his seat, and she kissed down on him hard, passionately, her tongue flicking quickly with his. Greg wrapped his arms around her waist, putting one hand on her hip, and his left hand resting on her ass. He was sitting on the edge of his seat, allowing him to pull Molly tightly against his body. His cock twitched in his pants when he felt her firm breasts against his chest. Molly put a hand on the back of his head as they kissed, her other hand on his waist.

They continued kissing like this for a few minutes, Greg's large hand periodically squeezing Molly's ass. Greg's hand then slid down over Molly's ass, to the back of her thigh. He lifted his hand back up, bringing the bottom of her skirt up with it. His hand moved back down and gave her bare ass a little slap, eliciting a moan from Molly. He broke their kiss, and began kissing her cheek, down to her neck, sucking gently on the flesh there. As Greg's hand moved around Molly's exposed butt, Greg realized that she wasn't wearing panties. He slid his hand down from heaven ass, past her crack and onto her exposed vagina. "Mmm, someone forgot undies tonight."

Molly moaned and looked down at Greg. "I'll tell you the story later."

"I'm not the first person to fool around with you tonight, am I?" It was in the form of a question, but Greg already knew the answer.

"No, you're the second." Molly looked down at him, a challenge on her face.

Greg grinned up at her. "I'll be the first time do it right, though." He darted his head up and pecked her on the lips. Challenge passed, he went back to rubbing her pussy. Molly's hand snaked down from Greg's head to his waist, and then both hands moved between them, reaching his belt. Her hands deftly unhooked the belt, and then unzipped his pants. She looked down, seeing her breasts peeking out from her shirt and Greg's cock push against the confines of his pants. He stood up, now towering over her, and let her push his pants and underwear down to his ankles, exposing his semi-hard dick, already 6 inches and not done growing. Molly wrapped her fingers around his cock, squeezing it once before releasing it and taking a step backwards. She took the bottom of her shirt and pulled it up over her head, tossing it behind her. She then unhooked her bra, and let it fall off her shoulders and down her arms. Greg stepped out of his pants, kicking them aside, and pulled his shirt up over his head.

They each took a step closer to one another, and embraced in a deep kiss, hands arms wrapping around each other, enjoying the sensation of flesh on flesh. Molly's movements became more pressured, forceful. Greg reached down and cupped her ass, then lifted her up into his arms. She purred into his ear and wrapped her legs around his waist. "I want you in my bed, now." He responded by squeezing her ass and kissing her again. He began to walk her back through the kitchen and up the stairs. Molly felt his cock growing, getting harder, occasionally twitching between her legs. As he walked, she began thrusting against him, feeling his hard cock run along her pussy lips. She kept kissing his neck, grinding against him. For his part, the older man held her firmly in his hands, the warmth from her body fueling his desire. He had never been so hard before, had never wanted something so much before.

Finally, they made it into Molly's bedroom. He laid her down on her back, kissing her neck. She leaned up and reached for his dick, but he pushed her back down firmly, hands on her shoulders. Part of him simply wanted to fuck her; his arousal was like that of the boys she had complained about. Something about the little nymph made him want to just pound the shit out of her. "Not yet," he said, as much to himself as to her. She watched as his mouth trailed down, kissing from her neck to her collar bone, slowly, slowly, his hands trailing down her slim sides, feeling each rib. His head went lower, looking at her large, pert breasts. His mouth moved from kissing her right breast to her left, his tongue licking her salty flesh, wrapping around her hard nipple. She let out a low moan, arching her back, pressing her breast up into his mouth. He went lower, a trail of kisses down off her ribcage and onto her flat, taut stomach. His hands, too, continued down, until they reached her hips. Her legs closed slightly as his head reached her pubic bone, no longer splayed wide enough for his entire body to fit.

The 15-year-old shuddered as her father's friend flicked his tongue on her clit. It felt rougher, drier, more forceful than the boys' tongues. She heard him moan from between her legs. It actually sounds like he enjoys it! Her pussy still tasted of cum; that wasn't a taste Greg necessarily enjoyed, but it mixed well with the taste of her juices. He thought he could taste the old, stale juices alongside the new. She lifted up her hips, and he slid a hand underneath her, squeezing her firm ass. His other hand went further, his fingers pressing against her ass hole but not seeking entry, simply giving another area of sensation. His tongue went to work, licking once all around her labia, slowly, drawing out the process. He was determined to show patience; the buildup was as important as the act. More foreplay meant better orgasms, for both parties.

Molly's patience broke first. She looked down between her breasts and saw Greg's head bobbing, sliding left and right. Her hand reached down and grasped the back of his head. She shuddered as she felt his tongue enter her. "Oooh, yeah, lick my pussy, taste those juices!" Her hips slid forward, grinding her pubis against his mouth. His tongue flicked around in her pussy, earning an increased flow of juices from her. Greg moaned, sending vibrations through her pussy. He flicked his tongue up out of her hole and onto her clit. At first, he simply flicked back and forth, left to right then up to down. Sensing the risk of carpal tunnel of the tongue, he switched to the alphabet method of cunnilinguis. Molly was panting, her breasts heaving up and down. She reached both hands up and squeezed her breasts with the palm of her hand, pressing them flat into her chest. "Oh fuck, you're so good at this! Mmm, don't stop!" She grasped her breasts in her hand and squeezed hard, pinching the nipples in her grasp, some flesh escaping between her fingers.

Greg had made it to the letter M before losing concentration and simply flicking up and down, hard, fast. He could sense her orgasm approaching: her body began to tense, and her legs were beginning to muffle the sounds around him, squeezing tighter around him. He grinned, but managed to keep his rhythm, when he heard those words he loved to hear: "Oooh, my God, I'm going to cum!" He redoubled his efforts, his five o'clock shadow scraping Molly's inner thighs as his head thrashed her pussy. He squeezed his hands and felt her ass flesh compress. Molly's legs began to buckle, and kick out a little. He heard gasping above him, and felt a tremble coarse through her body. A short shriek caught in Molly's throat, and another flood of juices accompanied her announcement: "Oh yes, I'm cumming!" Her body began to writhe as he licked her clit right through her orgasm. She eventually managed to twist away from him, and he stood at the edge of her bed and watched her try to catch her breath. He didn't give her much time, though. It was time to fuck this sexy teen.

The older man's cock had begun to retreat during the 10 or so minutes of cunnilinguis, an expected response to being put on hold for so long. Greg took his cock in his hand and stroked it, feeling the blood return to inflate his member. With his other hand, he grabbed Molly's knee and straightened her out, spreading her legs wide. He looked down at her cunt, the area red from his ministrations and the increased blood flow to the area. His eyes went up and caught the girl's. Letting out a primitive grunt, he bent his knees and lined up his cock with her hole. She spoke through gritted teeth, sounding equally primitive: "Fuck me, I need that cock now!"

Greg was happy to oblige. He pushed his still-inflating cock into her well-lubricated tunnel. Once he felt the head go in, he let go of his dick and used the hand to steady himself. Molly felt both hands pressing down on her shoulders, his whole body leaning forward, pressing his cock into her. His hands tightened as he went further into her. Molly's pussy was still sensitive from having cum only a minute previously, and every bit of cock sent a strong sensation over her body. She could feel it sheering against her vaginal walls, despite all the fluid.

Greg looked down at Molly, watching her lip curl. He kept pushing his way into her incredibly tight pussy. After getting half of his eight inches into her, he pulled out, leaving just the tip, then pushed forward again. The lubrication on the first half of his dick let him push even further. He felt resistance again, and pushed harder. With one final grunt, he felt his pubic bone hit hers.

Molly felt him finally fully in her, and her eyes snapped open. She let out a loud moan. "Oh my god, you're so fucking deep! You're like in my cervix!" Her hands reached forward, around Greg. She grasped his firm ass and pulled him tight, her pussy spasming around his thick dick. Is he cumming already? She felt his dick twitch, and looked up at his face. He didn't seem to have an orgasm face on. She sighed as he pulled back out of her.

Greg held his dick in his hand and slapped it against Molly's clit. She gasped and looked up at him, and he lined up his cock once more with her hole. "You ready to really get fucked?" The girl nodded, looking relieved. He pushed forward, entering with one stroke. He couldn't hold back any more. Gripping her hips, he stood upright, lifting her ass off the bed slightly. He slid his hands around to her ass and held her up. He pulled back his large cock, then slammed it back into to her, earning a grunt from her lips. He pulled back again, hearing juices fill the vacuum, and shoved in, hearing them compress under his force.

Molly couldn't think about anything other than the cock inside her - a much better, more enjoyable state of affairs compared to earlier in the night, with Eddie. Her moans filled her room and escaped into the rest of the house. Greg was picking up the pace. He pulled her hips into him with each thrust. Molly could feel his cock throbbing inside her.

"Yeah, take that cock, you little teen slut." Greg's voice was barely louder than a whisper; the sound of flesh slapping against flesh nearly drowned out his words. "Fuck me, fuck me good, you fucking perv! You like that jailbait pussy, don't you?"

Greg chuckled coldly, not breaking his pace. "I haven't fucked a pussy this nice in years. Didn't really think you could handle it."

Molly moaned. "If I wasn't so wet, you would have been out of luck." She felt him give an extra hard thrust, and added, "I would have been out of luck too!"

Greg let go of Molly's ass, letting it fall to the bed. He took hold of her ankles and forced them up around her ears, bending her in half. He climbed up on the bed and shoved his cock deep into her. Molly felt him hitting deeper, impossibly, than before. He grinned down at her, inches above her face. "A selfish reason to make a girl cum before fucking her. Tell your little high school boys that when I'm done with you." Greg began pounding her poor little pussy again.

Molly was crying out even louder than before. His cock was hitting the top bits of her pussy wall, and his balls were slapping against her asshole. The sensations were driving her mad. Her body trembled with pleasure. She leaned her head forward, nearly head-butting Greg, and screamed out, "Don't stop! Oh god, fuck, don't stop!"

Greg kept fucking her, not holding anything back. He felt her pussy walls contract, tightening around his dick, and had to wince as Molly shouted. His balls began to churn, the fluids rising inside him. Molly held her breath for a second or two before crying out, her voice dropping an octave as she came. Greg's face tightened, his jaw jutting out, and he gave one last slam into Molly, leaning all his weight down through his hips.

Molly looked up as her new lover began to cum. His face, twisted in an orgasm, wasn't the unpleasant distraction Eddie's was; instead, it heightened her own sense of pleasure rocking her body. She felt Greg's cock twitch as rope after rope of cum spewed into her cunt. Spent, he lay there on top of her, his cock flexing of its own accord every few seconds. He released her feet, and slowly Molly lowered her legs. Greg, who had been crouching as he fucked Molly, dropped down to his knees, letting his calves rest. They were both breathing heavily, a sweaty mess. Greg leaned down and kissed Molly softly, sending one last wave of pleasure through her, before he pulled out and lay on his back next to her, his cock slowly deflating. Molly looked over at him. "Wow," she breathed. She cleared her throat, recovering from her screams, and said, "That. Was. Incredible."

The man grinned over at her. "Oh my god, it was amazing. You're a hell of a fuck."

The girl grinned back at him. "I have never felt so satisfied in my life." Her features softened, her grin turning into a gentle smile. "Thank you."

Greg returned her soft gaze. He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You're okay. You'll figure it all out."

Molly took a deep breath, and let it out. "Yeah, I will."

Greg glanced over at the clock and sighed. "Shit, I really should go. Listen, this was incredible." He stood up and walked over to her desk. He took a pen and wrote on a piece of scrap paper. "Give me a call some time, okay? For an encore performance . . . or just to talk. Whatever you need." She nodded, and he began to dress. Molly lay there, watching her older lover. Once changed, he walked over to her. She sat up, and gave Greg a hard, passionate kiss. He pulled back after a second, and smiled down at her. "See you around, cutie." He gave her a wink and walked out of the door.

Molly closed her eyes, enjoying the post-coital flood of neurochemicals. Having to use the bathroom, she stood up -- but her legs were so weak, her pussy so sore, that she immediately sat down again. Molly let out a contented sigh. "This is how a girl should feel after a fucking."

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