This wasn’t new; I often took long walks deep into the night. And yes, sometimes I wore just a bathrobe and sweatpants. Sure, sometimes I’d nurse a bottle.
Rarely, though, would it be both. What other choice do you have, really, after you spend two furious hours breaking up with your girlfriend?
So I walked. On a better night I’d be out with friends, or staying in and watching a movie with… well, I wouldn’t be doing that anymore. I wasn’t really into the “party” scene, preferring one-on-one interaction. Call me old fashioned, but I didn’t like hitting on girls when I had to scream to be heard.
As I walked, I passed up the opportunity. Some cheerleader girl from school had won some cheerleading thing at school, and was celebrating with one of those no-holds-barred, shows-up-on-COPS-and-Girls Gone Wild type parties. From a block away I could hear the music. From half a block, the rabid sounds of drunken teenagers.
And I walked right past. Or I would have, had I not seen her sitting on the curb.
Sonja… something or other, I dunno. Slavic, so there were some silent ‘g’s and ‘z’s. I had shared some classes with her, and we had talked a little. Mostly, though, our relationship was based off of me catching glances and her pretending not to notice.
How could I resist looking? 16 and already DD’s, with honey colored skin and dark red hair. Shorter than me, 5’6” or so to my 6’2”, toned stomach, and an amazing ass. Really, though, it was the tits that did it for me. Larger than my hand and immune to gravity, they stood as monuments to the body of the adolescent girl.
I couldn’t see them at the moment, though. She had folded herself up at the curb, staring through her cigarette smoke to the houses opposite. She looked lonely and cold, dressed only in a halter-top and some track pants. I staggered over and sat heavily down next to her.
“Boring party, right? I don’t know anyone.” Her voice was bitter, but deep and sultry. You could tell she was a smoker as soon as she spoke.
“Meh, I wouldn’t know. I walked here. I live nearby. What, you thought I’d go to a party dressed like this?” I waved at my robe.
She snickered and looked straight at me for the first time. Eye shadow enhanced already seductive eyes. No lipstick, but the flush of a few drinks reddened her cheeks. “Oh, yeah, maybe. Some of the guys in there are pretty damn casual. “
I nodded reflectively, trying to look thoughtful but really just struggling for the next drunken exchange. I angled the robe to expose more of my six-pack. “Could I bother you for a smoke?”
She passed one over, along with her zippo, and she groped for the vodka bottle nestled between my legs. She found a handle, and lifted.
“Ow! Dammit, you’re pulling something else!” Her hand on my cock through sweatpants was arousing, but I was already pretty hard from the amount of sideboob action I could see out of the corner of my eye.
She glanced at me, confused, and grabbed the bottle on the second try. She downed the last of it, only a few mouthfuls, and coughed. Without saying anything, she leaned her head on my shoulder and started moving her hand up and down my thigh.
I put my arm around her. My hand slipped from her shoulder to the outside of her breast, where I slowly traced figure eights with my fingers. Our smoke mixed with our breath, visible in the cool February air. My hands were pale with the cold, but hers just glowed golden, betraying possible middle-eastern ancestry.
We stayed like this for a few minutes, soft-core bliss outside a rambunctious party. I noticed that she kept her hand between her legs, which pressed her cleavage together even more. At first I thought it was just for warmth, but then I noticed a slight movement to her arm, and realized she was rubbing herself through her pants.
I was as hard as possible as she lightly skimmed over my covered dick, and was nearly panting. Suddenly, without warning, she stood up and flicked away the butt of her cigarette.
She was pretty casual herself, really, dressed more for bed than for a night out. Her shirt barely reached the top of her stomach, where I noticed a bellybutton piercing. Her nipples stood in the cold, climbers on a mammary Mt. Everest.
“Well? Where can we go?” I stared at her, animal lust clouding my thoughts. It took a frustrated jiggle for her to get me to respond. “Oh. There’s an empty house only a few houses away.”
We walked. Her hands were all over me, gliding down my back, rising up my chest, lingering on my jaw and above my groin. Mine circled her ass, lifted and massaged her breasts, and toyed with her nipples through her shirt. In such a skintight shirt, her waist seemed too small to support the weight of her tits. She had a truly hourglass figure.
I kept the back window propped open, from previous nights smoking pot in the house with friends. She crawled through eagerly, and I smiled at her lack of panty lines.
She led me by the cock to the front room, lit by outside streetlights. As she peeled off my sweats, I fondled and played with her magnificent breasts. She pumped me twice with her hand, and hesitated.
I stared down at her, throbbing painfully. She glanced up. “Normally, at this point, I’d use my mouth. But since you seem so obsessed with them, would you rather I use my tits?”
I grinned. “I’d love it, babe, but can you do that dry? I don’t have any lube on me.”
She grinned back, and swallowed my whole cock in one go. 7 and a half inches is quite a bit of meat to take, but she managed it, and kept her dark eyes locked on mine. She pulled her head up, smiling with pride, and pressed her chest together over my cock.
She bounced lightly for a while, but I needed more. I pushed down on her, thrusting my hips, and got her up against a wall. Hair collecting drywall dust, she leaned down and licked the top of my cock every time it emerged from the warm, slippery prison.
I couldn’t take much of that, of course. I growled as I felt my balls start to churn, and grew to a roar as I shot on her face. She caught the first few spurts in her mouth, missed one to her hair, and let the rest just dribble onto her chest.
She scooped up the rest with her fingers and sucked it off with a “pop”. Wordlessly, she looked down. I was already rising again, from the sight of my own cumshot and her little display.
I handed her her clothes, expecting her to go back to the party, satisfied. Instead, she folded them up and put them on the floor. Placing her forearms and face on them, she waved her ass in the air.
I moved up behind her, running a finger up and down her slit. Pink, pinker than her skin, and shuddering at my touch. I was amazed at how it moved, and spread her cheeks. There, a tiny treasure in a valley, was her asshole. I continued to stroke her, and slowly worked a pinky into the ring of muscle.
She moaned. “You… douchebag… Just fuck me already!”
I needed no other invitation. Kneeling straight behind her, I held myself out with one hand as the other guided her by the hips onto me. I slid in slowly. Her apparent experience didn’t go as far as this.
Just being in her was warm, and wet, and almost peaceful. Then my eyes snapped open, and I starting hammering.
She yelped, which rapidly turned to more moans. My hands roamed over her hips and ass, before I hunched over her and grabbed her tits again. I slowly leaned back, bring her with me, until I was supporting most of her weight, and bringing it down each time I thrust up.
She turned her head and we kissed deeply, almost desperately. Her whimpering rang in my ears, and everything fell away compared to the pleasure we gave each other.
It didn’t last. After what seemed like both a lifetime and the blink of an eye, she gripped me tighter. Her moaning reached a crescendo and the world shattered and tumbled down around us. I could feel myself being milked of any seed I had left.
Panting, I dropped off of her and laid on the floor. We looked at each other.