I have always been a sexual creature, with strong appetites and yearnings. I have always been fascinated by the responses my sexuality evokes. It began a long time ago. My body grew up fast; my appetites grew up faster. I was barely 18; but I already knew how to play the woman's game. I knew what I wanted. I knew that older man behind the counter at the video arcade was someone I wanted; someone I wanted to touch me, kiss me, feel me beneath my clothes. That married man with a wife and children he made promises to.
I would lie in bed at night and imagine being alone with him, imagine how it could be between us as I worked my clit with frenzied hunger and imagination. During the day I flirted with him; I gave him looks laden with lust, my body screaming for attention. And one afternoon when the arcade was empty, save for us two, I made my move.
Young and fit, slim in the jeans that hugged my curves, a tight T-shirt across breasts irresistibly heavy and rounded—I leaned over a game. I pushed my ass toward him, showing him how ready I could be for him, showing him the position I dreamed of being taken. I wanted him to notice me; I wanted him to be filled with desire. I was draped over the machine in my most seductive pose, proffering myself to him with practiced yet fresh sexuality.
He came up behind me, his flesh pressed against mine. I thrilled feeling his hard cock against the fabric covering my ass. I moved myself slightly against him and heard the sharp intake of his breath. It made me feel powerful, sexy and seductive, to have this forbidden man want me. I knew I still looked like tasty jailbait. I knew I could give him thrills his wife no longer could.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" His deep, coarse voice growled roughly in my ear. Oh, I knew. I knew what I wanted. Fuck, my jeans were dripping wet as I knew I could have him, as I knew he wanted me. I moved as if to turn and face him to begin this fantasy, but someone came in, and he moved away quickly. He was always cautious in public.
But I knew he was hooked, and he would find a way. One night, he asked me to baby sit for him and his wife when they went out. Anxious for the chance to further invade his home and his life, I accepted. Alone within his walls I rifled through his belongings, stealing little items of his—a lighter, a T-shirt. I lay down on the bed he shared with his trusting woman and drove myself to orgasm again and again. When they returned, his wife insisted he drive me home—it was so late, after all. My thighs clenched at the opportunity.
He headed toward my house, but stopped halfway, parking in the darkness between the intermittent streetlamps. He leaned over to kiss me, and I crawled on to his lap and sat on top of him, my tongue in his mouth and fingers in his hair. He was rock hard beneath me, pushing up between not-so-innocent thighs. I spread my legs further and rocked on top of him—this was a dance I already knew well.
I moved until his breath grew harsh. He began to tear at my shirt, his teeth on my tits, biting and nibbling. Enjoying it more than I thought I ever would, I encouraged him to bite me harder, rougher, with a more urgent desire. Pleasure was exploding behind my eyes, and I was biting my lip to keep from crying out until he whispered that he wanted to hear me scream.
My hands dove under his sweatshirt, feeling his hard muscles, I ached to feel him inside me. I ran my hands over his nipples, feeling them contract at the touch. With wonder I grabbed at them, flicking lightly with my nails. His hands clamped down on my ass and he began to grind into me—I could feel it was coming. I didn't want to miss it.
I slid off him and undid my jeans, sliding them past my small cotton panties. With shame, I tried to hide them as they dripped with my wetness; I tried to shove them into the pants I had discarded onto the floor but he reached down and picked them up, inhaling deeply.
My eager hands were at his belt. His face held a question. Was I sure? I realized he hadn't planned to go any further, not knowing if I was ready—or willing—for the next step; he wanted me but was willing to come any way I would let him, even if that meant the dry humping as I sat astride him. I smirked and leaned over to lick his newly freed cock and heard him moan.
He yanked my head up and stuffed his tongue in my mouth like he wanted to shove his dick into my hot cunt. I instinctively understood and sat on top of him again—he put his hand on his cock, the head pulsing against my tight little pussy, with each stroke I could feel him bump against my clit. I began to whimper as he moved his hand faster and faster, harder and harder. Suddenly I realized that he wasn't going to fuck me, and I grew furious.
I opened my legs wide and grabbed his cock, impaling myself on him. I could feel how tight I was around him—I adored the feeling as I stretched to accommodate him. I was so tight that he wasn't all the way inside me with that first movement. I lifted myself and pushed down again, feeling him slide deep into me and bump against all of my favorite spots.
He groaned like he was going to die. I looked him straight in the face, watching him struggle for control. I knew his wife could never give him this. It made me dizzy with desire—this urge, this need to see him lose the control he was so desperate to maintain. He looked agonized and I flicked my hips forward, pissed off and wanting him to lose it. His eyes flew open and he grabbed me in sudden, frightened amazement.
"Fuck me," I hissed; my hands in his hair. "Fuck me," as I continued moving in demanding patterns.
His fingers curled around my arms—he suddenly looked so frightened. "Don't stop," I commanded, and raised myself along the length of him to fully take him once more. I lifted myself again until just his head was inside me, clenching the walls of my pussy with something I instinctively knew would feel good. He almost cried, his face wearing a tormented mask; suddenly his hands were on my ass and he was panting, undecided on whether to pull me off or push me down.
I made the decision for him—for me—and slid down so slowly; his head tilted back as he began to groan from deep within. I could see it, see this sound in the base of his throat, and I leaned in to bite him there, hard, fucking him with my tight, hot, dripping cunt. Harder and faster I moved until his hands flew to grab the fabric on the roof of the car and my hips were snapping furiously. I watched his stomach tighten with every movement. He grabbed my shoulders and pushed me down, crying out, yesssss!
He was coming inside me, coming like he was going to die, begging me not to move. I did, just once, and he gasped and writhed like I had knifed him, making me smile wickedly. Then I sat quietly as he crumpled before me.
After a second, I climbed off and got dressed.
He didn't meet my eyes as he turned the car on and drove me the six blocks to my house. We reached my driveway and I thanked him. He paid me the $25 I had earned from babysitting. I went into my room, climbing in bed with a Cheshire grin plastered on my face.
He never asked me to baby sit again. And I had decided I had just outgrown video games. There were better real-life games to be had and I was ready for those adventures. Multiple players, top scores, and so much more.
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