Sean watched out his kitchen window as the scene unfolded in his backyard. The girl, a young teen, led a strange man toward the rear of Sean’s property, to the rickety old shed. He watched her grow frustrated, and then mad, when she found the shed padlocked.
Sean grinned, in his kitchen, as he reached into his pocket, removing his key-ring and examining the two shiny new Master-Lock keys. As he watched, the teen seemed to make a decision, and she led her man around to the side of the shed. She knelt in front of him and unzipped his pants with her frantic hands. Soon, she had his pants around his knees, and looking around, the teen seemed confident she wasn’t being watched. She took his cock into her mouth. The man grabbed the youth’s head and began to slowly thrust his hips. Before long, the man’s hands wandered down the girl’s halter top, fiddling with her small breasts, as his pants slid down to his ankles. Sean grinned again when he saw the girl’s hand slowly fall to the ground beside her, and begin to search the man’s pants. He needed to buy some binoculars, he thought.
Then Sean grew concerned at the thought of the teen being caught lifting the man’s wallet. He didn’t want her getting hurt on his property. He mentally kicked himself again for buying this fucking house just a month ago. He hated it, and he hated the ratty fucking neighborhood. Crack infested. He had foolishly rushed into buying the home, and actually thought he was getting a bargain at the time. If he sold it now, he would take a financial beating, for sure.
The man may have suspected the girl’s deceitful nature, Sean thought, because he suddenly pulled his hands out from under her halter and pushed her roughly against the wooden shed and restrained her arms. The man’s voice reached Sean in the kitchen when he hollered at the teen, causing Sean to wince as he wondered who else may have heard the commotion in his back yard. The teen, trapped, looked up at the man. . . and then opened her mouth. With his pants around his ankles, the man shuffled forward and began to face-fuck the girl, her head bouncing off the shed with each thrust. "Jesus," Sean thought. "I need a security fence around my yard."
The teen squeezed her eyes shut, but accepted the abuse her trick was dealing out. Sean had watched her suck-off several men in his backyard, usually inside his tiny shed, which is why he had so recently secured it. He saw the teen’s little breasts jiggling under her tight halter top not thirty feet from his kitchen window. With a growl, the man pulled out of the girl’s mouth, released her arms, and began to jack-off, spraying his sperm all over her young face.
Satisfied, the man pulled up his pants and reached for his wallet. Throwing a couple bills down onto the ground next to the shaking girl, he spun around and marched out of Sean’s backyard. Sean watched her for a moment as she knelt aside his shed. She slid down the wooden wall until she was sitting, and began to wipe her face with her hands. Sean had seen enough, and headed for his backdoor.
"Hey, girl." Sean called out quietly. She tensed, looked at him and then froze. "It’s alright. Don’t worry. I won’t give you any trouble." Sean tried to sound sincere. He didn’t know exactly what he was going to do, but he wasn’t going to hurt her. "Get up, come in here." She didn’t move. "Now, c’mon." Slowly, Sean walked out onto his back porch watching the teen closely, her body language suggested she would soon take flight.
"Come in, wash up. I’ll get you a. . ." Sean said, thinking of offering her a soda, but they called it a "pop" here in Michigan, he had learned. ". . .Pop. A root beer." She was considering it, he thought. "Maybe I’ll give you a key to that shed. You can wash your face in my kitchen sink." He turned and walked into his house. He walked down his hallway and stopped before a closet just before his bathroom. He opened it and grabbed a large thick towel.
Was inviting her into his house a good idea? He knew nothing about her, except that she sucked dick for cash, and that this behavior fascinated him. He felt sorry for her, sure, he worried about her, but mostly, he wanted to talk to her. He wanted to get her to stop using his property, to go somewhere else and suck dicks. He walked back down the hall to find the teen standing in his backdoor way, peering inside, her face soaked with sperm. He tossed the towel to her and nodded at his kitchen sink.
"Thanks," she said quietly. Holding the towel to her chest, she crept into his house, wary and tense, watching him closely. Sean sat down at his kitchen table. She set the towel on the counter and turned-on the water, hot and cold, and waved her hands under the faucet as she gazed at Sean, still anxious. Without taking her eyes from him, she leaned forward and began to splash some water on her face. Sean faced away from her, looked out toward his sparsely furnished living room. He heard a small sob escaped from the girl, but Sean kept looking away.
Soon, he could hear her washing and sobbing and when he looked again she had her whole head under the kitchen faucet and she was scrubbing at her hair urgently, frantically. Sean watched her. Her hands returned to her face, scrubbing and scrubbing, and then back to her shoulder length blonde hair, as she pulled rubber band from her ponytail, freeing it, she nearly climbed into his sink, frantically washing herself, now crying. A minute later, her head was still under the running water, her hands gripping his counter, her little legs a bit shaky. Sean wanted to say something to her, but had no clue what. He stood and crossed the floor to his fridge, opening it and looking inside.
"Root Beer or Diet Coke?" he asked. He heard the water being shut off, but she didn’t answer. Holding a root beer, he turned to face her. Her face was buried in the towel. Being six-and-a-half feet tall Sean towered over her. Weighing two-hundred-and-forty pound of nearly solid muscle, he dwarfed her. She was tiny, but when she lowered the towel and looked up at him, he sensed she was far from helpless. She had defiant eyes. Blue, rimmed with puffy red lids. She sniffled, but her features stiffened, her chin thrust out. She shook her head, and then wrapped the towel around her shoulder length hair, while measuring Sean with her eyes. With a graceful little hop, she bounced up and sat on the counter and grabbed her root beer.
"Thank you," she said warily. Sean liked her delicate little collar bones, her thin neck, but he kept his eyes from wandering too far from hers. Sean was never very comfortable around girls, women. He had had only two girlfriends in his life. He had slept with his first girlfriend only once before she dumped him. It had taken Sean more than a year to recover his self-esteem from that. Then he had met Azura, who he almost dated for more than eight years; they had nearly married. Her mixed Hispanic and Navajo blood left Azura susceptible to the curses of alcohol, which fatally flawed their relationship, though, leading Sean to leave her just months ago. Azura had been beautiful women, larger and dark skin. She would have dwarfed this teen on his kitchen counter.
"Listen. . . um," Sean started. The girl produced a box of Marlboro reds from her back pocket. She opened it. . . producing a cigarette and lighter.
"Tracy," she said, lighting the cigarette.
"Tracy, I was hoping, or, I was gonna tell you. Ask you. I want you to stop using my backyard." Sean watched her absorb this. She seemed to relax, and took a sip of her pop. Her eyes sparkled with a bit of mischief. She took a long drag off her smoke.
"Gimme a key to the shack," she responded, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "You got spiders in there, you know? Look," she said holding out her hand. Sean saw a small welt on the side of her hand, next to her pinky. "Got bit. Should sue you. Better hope this doesn’t get any worse." Sean took a step toward her, and took her little hand into his. He examined the bite closely, and decided to give it some attention. Soon, he stood in front of her again, cleaning it with some alcohol and putting a band aid on it. Probably didn’t even happen in his shed, he thought. He looked up and searched her eyes.
"What are you gonna do with that money he gave you? Buy crack?" Sean asked her.
"If it’s any of your fucking business, probably so." She looked down as she said this and flicked an ash from her cigarette into his sink. "Want some too?" She showed no fear now when her gaze returned to Sean. She was relaxed and calm, defiant.
"How old are you, where do you live?" She looked at him, shaking her head. With that big towel wrapped around her head, her shoulders looked impossibly slight and were peppered with about a dozen freckles.
"Can I use your brush?" she asked, hopping down from his kitchen counter and removing the towel. "You got a hair brush? Huh?" He did, he went and got it, watched her quickly run it through her hair. She quickly had it tied back in a pony tail. "Anything you want before I leave?" Sean looked at her blankly. "No?" He shook his head. She marched right out his back door, hopped off his porch and ran quick as a rabbit out of his back yard. Sean got on the phone and began shopping for a security fence.
Sean dreamt that night. He stood in a long line with other men, all of them naked. They were in a large room; it reminded Sean of a theater lobby, their line formed within thick red ropes held up by brass poles. It was hard to tell where the red walls met the red carpeting. Way up at the front of the line, a young man dressed like an usher waited. Sean felt uncomfortable when he looked at the other men. Their cocks were so large and his was strangely small. Weird, he thought, he always had a big cock.
Then Sean saw Tracy walk out into the lobby, nude, thin and tan, very sexy. She looked impossibly young to be exhibiting herself like this, Sean thought. Sean about choked when she winked right at him, and he covered himself, embarrassed by his small size. The usher allowed the first man in line to approach Tracy, fondle her. She smiled like a little devil, and took this man’s cock into her mouth, cupped his balls with her hand.
The usher allowed another man through, and he approached Tracy from behind. She sighed with pleasure when he manhandled her, entered her eager young pussy from behind with his large cock. As the two men spit-roasted Tracy, the usher allowed another man through. Soon Tracy was busy pleasing three men, jacking-off one, sucking-off another, and being roughly fucked by the third man’s large cock. A groan escaped from the first lucky man, who started to ejaculate all over Tracy’s face. She seemed to love it, and she even glanced over and gave Sean another quick wink.
Sean shuffled forward in line occasionally, as Tracy expertly pleased man after man.
Now Sean noticed each man in line held cash in their hands. Sean had no cash! It wasn’t long before Sean saw Tracy look over at him again. He raised his hands high, palms open, No Cash, See? And though she was pretty much covered in sperm now, she seemed to laugh a bit, and shake her head and form words with her mouth. "That’s ok," She seemed to say.
Men were fucking her hard now, two at a time, one in her ass, one in her puss. She gratefully accepted a new man into her mouth. She jerked-off a fourth man with one hand, while counting cash with her other hand. Sean watched as each man pumped his sperm all over her. Sean’s cock was growing very hard now, getting closer to the front of the line. The man in front of Sean was stroking himself, as he handed the usher his money, and waited his turn.
The man abusing Tracy’s ass grunted loudly and pulled out of her. A river of come poured out of her young tight ass, before a black man plugged her hole forcefully. From the rear of the theater, a policeman approached Tracy, walking slowly, his thumbs hooked into his weapons belt. Tracy unzipped the cop’s pants when she had a free hand and started sucking him off too.
Now Sean was next in line. Men were coming all over Tracy, there wasn’t a dry spot on her. The cop erupted into her face, pulling hard on her pig tails, "take that whore!"
Suddenly, the usher placed a rope in front of Sean! No! I’m next Sean thought, Next! He looked over at Tracy, but she wasn’t looking at him now. She had a terrified look on her face as the cop threw her to the floor, and pinned her down. He stuck his large finger into her belly button and pushed really hard. A loud hissing noise filled the lobby, as Tracy began to scream and holler. No! No! Sean!
Sean watched in horror as the hissing grew louder. Tracy was deflating! It was like she was a doll and the stupid fucking cop was letting all the air out! I’m next! Hey Asshole, I’m next! And Tracy screamed and screamed.
Sounds woke Sean up that night, grunts outside his bedroom window. Fuck. He sat up in bed, it was nearly two in the morning. Now something was thumping against his wall. Listening to the grunts, he thought he recognized Tracy’s voice. With the too-vivid dream still clouding his mind, he crept toward the window, peered outside. A black man knelt just below, his pants around his ankles. He was thrusting away, between a pair of thin white legs. Sean thought maybe he could make out the man’s cock, sheathed in a glow-in-the-dark condom. Still dreaming? The black man began to groan.
"Pull out!" Sean heard Tracy cry. He saw her hands begin to pound the man on his shoulders. It seemed to Sean that the man pulled out of Tracy, and he heard the snap of rubber, the man’s arm wagging frantically at his side, as he groaned. Sean remained at his window when the man stood and dressed himself. Sean saw him throw something down on the ground, probably cash. From this angle, Sean couldn’t see straight down outside his window. He was pretty sure it was Tracy, though. He slid the window open, feeling the cool spring Michigan air wash over his body. He wore only boxers.
"Tracy!" He hissed. He heard her scrambling around just below. "Get in here! Back door . . . now!" Sean was mad. He stomped across his bedroom, turned on his light and slipped on his sweat pants. He met her at the back door. She stood there when he opened it, covered in sperm. She was still wearing the same clothes from this afternoon, except she held her little shorts and underwear in her hands, covering herself, kind of. She was cold, shivering. But her eyes remained defiant. In contrast to his dream, she looked much more innocent now, and pathetic.
Sean opened the door wide, and indicated with a nod of his head for her to follow, as he walked down the hallway. He heard her padding after him. He flicked on the light in his bathroom.
"Shower," Sean commanded. "And then we’ll talk." Cautiously, she slid by him into the bathroom, her eyes fixed on him. She was still shaking with cold, he saw. "Are you hungry?" She nodded, her eyes beginning to fill with tears, Sean noticed. He pulled the door shut and walked back to the kitchen. He pulled some leftover pasta out of the fridge and began to heat it in the microwave. He got another towel out of the closet, and a sweatshirt for her out of his dresser drawers. He opened the bathroom door and set them inside, by the sink. She was crying, he could hear, and seemed to be thrashing about in the shower.
"You ok?" he called. He saw her hand pull the edge of the shower curtain back a bit, and then a soaking wet wash cloth came flying toward him. It hit the wall next to Sean with a splat. Sean grabbed it as it slid down the wall, and tossed it arcing back into the rear of the shower. He closed the door and returned to the kitchen. Later, wrapped in her towel, carrying his sweatshirt, she walked into the kitchen, where Sean was sitting at the table. She sat down, looking at her pasta and milk on the table.
"Do you have some rolls? And some Parmesan cheese?" she asked. Sean nodded, he had both, and stood to get them for her. "And some pepper too . . . I don’t really like milk, how ‘bout another root beer, Mister?" She stabbed at the pasta, and began to shovel it hungrily into her mouth. Sean set a loaf of rye bread and a canister of Parmesan cheese down in front of her. She looked at him and then at her glass of milk as Sean sat down. With a shrug, she continued to eat. She finished it fast so Sean heated-up more. As she waited, she used a slice of bread to wipe the plate clean. She finished a second helping.
"Thanks mister, that hit the spot. I didn’t eat all day."
"Maybe you should set aside a little of your income for some food," Sean suggested.
"I got some Taco Bell, but had to drop it when the friggin’ cops started chasing me." she explained, pushing her plate away. Sean stared at her, shaking his head in wonder. "Oh don’t worry, Mister," she laughed, producing her cigarettes and lighting one. "I got away."
"It’s Sean." She looked at him closely now. Sean stood, took a step toward her and knelt down. He reached for her hand. Her band aid was gone. He looked at the small spider bite by her pinky. The red swelling still looked angry. Sean felt her eyes on him.
"Look at you, all big and muscley." she cooed, closing her hand over his. Sean smirked at her and rose, headed for the bathroom and grabbed the alcohol and band aids. "How tall are you? What are you, thirty, thirty-three?" He returned, glaring at her. She hadn’t attempted to answer his questions from their early afternoon encounter yet, he wasn’t going to answer hers.
"I’m sixteen," she said, at last answering one of his questions from this afternoon. "And I live in the apartments, usually, with my ma." Her eyes fell over his body. "Damn you’re big. Good shape too..."
Sean knelt in front of her and reached for her hand. He dabbed some alcohol on the spider bite. Next to Sean’s house, to the north, in a row, were three large, old apartment building. Past them the road ended. Just ended, dead-ending into three giant graffiti stained cement blocks. To the south was a trailer park. Across the street were more run-down apartments. Behind his house, nearly a hundred yards behind, was a parking lot, and a Denny’s restaurant. Sean didn’t know why his house still stood here, in this awful crack-infested neighborhood. He swore to himself he would fix this home up quick and cheap as possible and move the fuck out.
"I’m Six-six, and twenty-eight," he said, answering Tracy's earlier questions.
The sweatshirt he gave her lay across her lap, her bare thin legs were crossed, her foot gently bounced up and down in front of him. Her little toenails were partially covered in an old coat of fingernail polish, but most of it had flaked off, or worn away. Her legs were covered in tiny scratches. He guessed the towel he had leant her wrapped around her just about twice, she was that thin. Her legs and shoulders were slightly tan, oddly, this early in the spring. She wore no jewelry; he could see no tattoos. She didn’t look like a little crack whore, yet. Yet. But it wouldn’t be long, he knew.
He had been in Detroit for a month now, south of Detroit actually, a town called Taylor. The biggest white-trash town Sean had ever seen. When Sean’s new co-workers discovered his real-estate gaff, they sympathetically shook their heads. Taylor was full of used-up looking crack-whores. Tracy would soon join that crowded sorority, he guessed. But, as his eyes lingered over her, she didn’t look that way yet.
"Your mom and dad know your out?" He asked her, standing and returning to his chair. Tracy chuckled at his question.
"Yeah," She claimed. "Ma knows. She strips at Henry The Eighths, been there yet?" Sean shook his head; his new friends had mentioned it, a titty-bar. "She’ll be there till three in the morning, maybe she’ll even come home tonight, dunno though, she usually doesn’t."
"She smoke a lot of crack too?" Sean asked, a little bitterness creeping into his voice.
Tracy pursed her lips shut, suppressing another belch. Then she blew out a long breath of smoke.
"Yeah, and heroine too." She picked up her glass of milk and finished it, stood and walked toward his fridge. She opened the freezer and got out some ice cream. She spun around, and after opening several drawers, found a spoon. She returned to the table, with the ice cream and opened it. "Yum."
"What time do you have to be in school tomorrow?" Sean asked her. Tracy looked at him like he had lost his mind, and spooned some ice cream into her mouth. She dipped her spoon back in for some more then held the spoonful out to Sean. He shook his head.
"Dropped out last semester. You can, in Michigan, when you’re sixteen. Ma signed all the papers." She explained, simple as that. Sean considered that.
"Guess it gives you more time to suck dick in my back yard." He pointed out. She glared at him, her spoon half-way between the tub of ice cream and her mouth. "And you can stay up late, fucking niggers outside my bedroom window."
With a growl, she launched her spoon at Sean, and she missed; it sailed passed his head and impacted on the wall behind him. As if spring-loaded, she hopped out of her chair, kicking at him, futile, but kicking at him none-the-less. She hollered, and began to swing an open hand toward his face.
"You don’t know! You don’t know!" She cried. He caught her hand, so she swung the other at him, kicking his legs and hollering. "You don’t fucking know!"
He intercepted her wild assault and held her wrists firmly as she struggled to get free, her towel loosening with her exertion. Sean stood and spun her around like she was nothing, and wrapped his strong arms around her, pulling her close, her struggles slowing. And then she stomped on his bare foot, hard, with her heal. Ouch! Now that hurt! She squirmed away, and ran for his living room, securing the towel around her body. Sean sat down heavily in his chair, reaching for his aching foot. Tracy stopped when she heard him sit, his chair groaning under his weight, sliding a bit across the kitchen floor. She looked at him holding his foot.
"Ha!" she cried. "Good! I hope that hurt!" She started to cry, her emotions smoldering, her eyes defiant, but filling with tears. She was so angry her fists were clinched and she shook, stomping her feet. Looking at her, Sean let go of his foot. He tried to relax and gather his thoughts. Perhaps he had gone a bit too far with that last comment. It obviously had touched a deep, painful nerve in the girl, he thought sadly. Sean considered his sore foot, knowing the pain would ease. He knew too that cruel words could be much more painful than a stomp on the foot.
"Sorry. . ." he said. "I don’t know, I don’t know you well, Tracy." First, she stopped her stomping, and then her shoulders relaxed. Slowly, she unclinched her fists. But her wet eyes still accused him, but only for another moment. Then she stuck her nose up in the air.
"No," she claimed. "You don’t know nothing." She looked at Sean and bit her trembling lower lip, considering him. She took a deep breath, and returned to the table, picking up her cigarette and extinguishing it on the plate. She picked up his sweatshirt off the floor, and unfolded it, from which she produced his hair brush. She sat down and began brushing her hair. Her thin little shoulders actually looked a little muscled, her arms too, slightly, as she brushed away at her hair. Sean rose and walked to the bathroom and picked up all her dirty clothes. Crossing the kitchen, he entered his tiny laundry room, a utility closet really, opening the washing machine and dumping her clothes inside.
"That shower was great, Sean, and the food too." She said, gratefully. He poured in a bunch of liquid soap, and started the wash-cycle. He liked his shower too, how hard the water shot out. He had moved to Michigan from New Mexico, and that whole fucking state was low on water-pressure. Yeah, he recalled his first shower in this house, and how nice it felt to be pelted hard with that large volume of water. He stood at the washing machine and thought, as Tracy talked.
"Don’t get many showers. I would love a bath. Oh, that would be good. Do you have any razors? Y ou need conditioner. Hair conditioner." He had an electric razor, expensive one, and he liked it. Hadn’t bought razors for more than a year, since his sister had sent him that electric one for his birthday.
"Sean? Are you listening to me?" He turned away from the washing machine and faced her. He nodded.
"No razors, Tracy, sorry." He answered. She smiled up at him, seemingly happy as a bee in a flower-bed now. He didn’t understand much about women, and this particular young one promised to be especially puzzling. And she fascinated him, her behavior, her appearance and her mystery. She lit another cigarette, after setting down the hair brush.
"Come. . . sit down." She told him, indicating a nearby chair. He did. She stood, cigarette dangling between her thin pink lips, and picked up the brush. She walked around behind him, and started brushing his hair.
"My mom, she used to cut hair. . . was a stylist." Tracy told him. As she brushed his hair, the bristles caressed his scalp, it felt good. "I would watch her, and then sometimes I would practice on my Dad. But he left a couple years back." She walked around in front of him and ran the brush through his bangs. "Good fuckin’ riddance, if you ask me. Bastard. Drank all day and night." She grabbed his face in her hands and twisted his head slightly. She looked at him closely.
"You, mister, really need a haircut." She smiled at him sweetly, and then bonked him on the head with the brush.
"What I really need is some sleep."
She frowned at him for saying that. Only losers sleep, her eyes said, as she stood back from him. Then, her expression grew serious.
"Sean, can I ask your advice on something?" He nodded, standing up. "Do you think I should get my belly button pierced?" She dropped her bath towel to the floor.
As she stood before him nude, she was smiling like a fox. Sean couldn’t take his eyes off of her, and his cock began to fill with blood. He sat back down. Fuck! What a little hotty, he thought. Little perky tits, curvy hips. Her little tummy, full of pasta, swelled a bit. Her belly button looked too cute, an inny. She placed her hands on her hips.
"Well? Should I?" He shook his head, reaching for his sweatshirt. She didn't look like a crack-whore.
"No, and put this on." Sean said, handing her his sweatshirt. Her tan lines were all fucked up, for sure, he saw. He recognized her skin type as one that would grow golden in the summer sun, her blonde hair would lighten a great deal. "I’m going to bed." He started down the hallway, but Tracy scampered ahead, blocking his bath, holding his shirt.
"How about a tattoo?" she asked, spinning around and thrusting her tight little ass out at him. She pointed to a spot on her back right above her ass. "Right here!" Definitely not there, Sean thought, admiring her tremendous ass, her thin waist, her curvy legs. He tried to squeeze around her, but she stood right in the center of the hall way. He waited. She turned around and faced him again . She pointed to a spot just about at the top of her little blonde pubes. " Here?" she asked. He shook his head and gently grabbed her arm and pulled her aside. He had to keep his eyes off of her until he could get under his covers and hide his erection. He squeezed by her and walked quickly to his bed.
She followed right behind him. "Do you have any tattoos you want to show me Sean? Have any thing pierced?"
"No, I don’t, sorry," Sean answered, climbing under his covers. Tracy hopped up on his bed naked, still holding his shirt.
"Thanks for loaning me this." she said, referring to his shirt.
"No big deal, could you put it on?"
"You sure?" Sean nodded, he was sure. He didn’t want a naked sixteen year old on his bed. Well he did, but he shouldn’t want one on his bed. Definitely a no-no. Even a fucking hot looking naked one. She pouted a bit, but pulled the sweatshirt over his head. "You really are going to sleep, aren’t you?"
"Um huh, I gotta lot of work to do tomorrow, going to start early." Sean explained. "The washer makes a loud clunking sound at the end of the spin-cycle, just so you know. You can do whatever, Tracy, but I have to sleep." His erection was making an obvious bulge in the sheet, but Tracy didn’t seem to notice.
"Well. . ." Tracy said, their eyes meeting. Then Sean saw her gaze travel down his long body. "I guess. . . Oh! Looky!" She grabbed his erection. "Oh my! Sean!" He knocked her hand away. She gasped.
"Sean, it’s so hard, so big!" Her eyes were wide, her pink lips formed a perfect circle. She reached for it again, but Sean stopped her. She giggled and giggled. "What’s wrong Sean?"
"You’re not really my type, youngster," Sean explained. She seemed to preen herself a bit, and Sean wondered if she knew exactly how cute she was.
"Really? I’m not your type? Is there something, something. . . not right about me?" she asked, crawling closer and leaning over him.
"You’re a kid, Tracy, just a kid." Sean could see down her sweatshirt, her perky little tits, her nipples hard and erect.
"Can I touch it Sean, please?" she asked, pouting. "I just want to feel it once more."
"No!" Sean cried. Just then, he heard a loud clunking. The washer. He gripped his sheets and yanked them off, spilling Tracy over in the process. She yelped. "Sean!"
He climbed out of bed and marched out of his room. Walking down the hallway, adjusting his sweat pants, he picked up the towel Tracy had dropped and headed for the dryer, Tracy scampering behind him. "I can do it! I can put them in the dryer, Sean, let me do it."
Tracy darted around him, reaching the utility closet before him and opening the washer. On her tippy toes, she reached in and grabbed her clean clothes. Her little ass peaked out from under the shirt, so Sean spun around, trying to avoid more torture. While she loaded the dryer, he gathered up an extra blanket and pillow, and threw them on the sofa in the living room. When he turned around, Tracy stood before him, her arms crossed over her chest, her legs spread shoulder length apart, and she had a grim look on her face. This made Sean laugh, the way she looked, all serious an really small. And this made Tracy giggle.
"Let me show you something, Goofball," Sean said. Her reached down and picked up a remote control from the coffee table. His TV came on. "HBO, The Movie Channel, I got it all. And look here." Tracy followed Sean to the entertainment center. He opened a couple cabinets. "Movies, Movies, and more Movies. And here... Music... all kinds." He smiled down at her. "Head phones too. Wireless, you can crank it up and dance all around, while I get some sleep." He thought he should feel very good, very hospitable.
"Any porn?" Tracy asked, looking closely at his his DVDs.
Yes, but it was still packed away in a cardboard box in the garage. "No," he lied.
"What the fuck!" She poked him. "You got porn, stop lying." Sean took a deep breath and showed her how to work the stereo and everything. He watched when she slipped the headphones on. She did a little dance.
"You can listen to those while you watch a DVD too." he pointed out, hoping to get an undisturbed night of sleep. He held her hand and led her into the kitchen. He showed her the pantry full of food and told her to help herself to anything she wanted.
"Beer? You have any Beer?"
No. Thankfully, and oddly, he didn’t. "No, little Pop-tart, I don’t," Sean replied. He got a bowl out of the cabinet that she could use for an ashtray.
"Want me to do any laundry for you while you sleep, Sean?" She asked sweetly.
Could this little crack whore actually be domesticated, he wondered. Bah! He shoved that thought from his mind. He would lead her out of his house first thing in the morning, before she robbed him blind.
But he didn’t. Because...
When he woke up in bed later that morning, oddly enough before his alarm, he sensed someone lying next to him. Slowly opening his eyes, he rolled his head to the left, and there was Tracy. All pretty and stuff, her big blue eyes sparkling.
"Morning Sean," she purred seductively. Then, she started to laugh, her hand traveling to her mouth in an attempt to contain her giggles. "Were you dreaming about me? Gee, I certainly hope so." She giggled some more, her little nose wiggling. His erection was standing tall and proud under the sheets. Shit. He saw Tracy reaching for it, too late to stop her. Still giggling, she grabbed it and squeezed. "Oh Sean!" He slapped her hand away. This was no way to be woken up! He knocked her hand away, again!
"Tracy!" Sean hollered, he voice cracking. "Stop! Damn it. Girl, what’s wrong with you?" She tried to grab it again. His cock wanted to be grabbed, handled, certainly. It was standing there, all hard, ready. But he thwarted her.
"But it looked so good, standing there, hard and ready, lonely. A little blanket tent just waiting for someone to play with." Tracy pouted.
Sean took a deep breath, and wondered if he could fall back asleep. Tracy climbed up on his chest, and looked down at him. She didn’t weigh very much. She was still wearing his sweatshirt, and her face was close to his. "Phew, stinky breath!" She grabbed his bangs with one hand and yanked up, his head following, ouch! This girl! With the other hand she fluffed some pillows up behind him, before releasing his bangs. This was pretty good, Sean thought, more comfortable, and now he was able to see right down her shirt. He liked that, he did. She wiggled atop of him, he felt her small butt brush against his cock.
"You sleep at all?" he asked.
"Nope. I made you coffee, want some?" She was domesticated! Yes he did, but he shook his head. Not yet, he thought, enjoying the feeling of her little body on his. It had been awhile since he had been in such an intimate encounter. He wondered if she would mind if he felt her a bit with his hands, just a little. She probably wouldn’t. What the fuck, he thought, I have some cash around here. He wrapped his arms around her thin waist, resting his hands on her back, feeling for a bra. She smiled, seeming to enjoy his curious hands.
"Why Sean," she cooed. "Are you looking for my cigarettes, or something?" she giggled, and he felt her little toes tickling his shins. He ran his hands over her bare butt. She smiled at him proudly, knowing he liked her young teen ass. She quietly moaned, and squirmed a bit. He looked down her shirt again, and she was hospitable enough to raise up a bit. Nice girl. She stroked his face with her hand.
"I used your toothbrush, I hope you don’t mind." she said, her minty breath fanning his face. He slapped her ass, causing the girl to gasp.
"Ok Mr. Frisky," she said jovially, "how about that cup of coffee?"
Sean nodded, feeling a tinge of disappointment when she slipped off him and hopped off the bed. "Black?" He nodded . "Thought so. . ."
Soon she was back with a hot cup of coffee. She curled up next to him again
"Thank you," Sean said, taking a sip of the strong brew. "I wake up a little slow."
She laughed. "Probably because of the critical shortage of blood circulating to your brain," she mused. Her hand began to slowly travel back to his erection. Sean wondered if that was anyway for a young crack-whore to talk. It didn’t sound like highschool-dropout talk, no it didn’t. He took another sip of his coffee, finding the dark brew quite good.
"Good?" she asked, watching him intently. Then, she slid her small hand along the sheet, finally wrapping it around his cock. He nodded, lying his head back and relaxing.
"Good," he moaned. Looking down, he saw his cock poking up a pyramid through the sheet, a small wet spot forming where the tip of his dick was. She started to jack him off through his sheet. He wrapped his arm around her, scratching her lower back, moving her shirt up a bit in the process.
"That’s good," she said. "Mm." She tickled his cock through the sheet with her small fingernails, causing Sean to shiver a bit. His erection managed to grow a bit taller, thicker. "Mm." She slid down along his body, her shirt sliding up her body more, bunching up under her arms. She lay her head on his stomach, and he could feel her warm breath on his cock. He took another sip of his delicious coffee, and watched her slip her sweatshirt over her head. She threw it on the floor and lay her head back down on him, stroking him with her hand. "Mm." The skin on her back was very soft. Where ever his fingers went, goose bumps followed. He felt her lips on his cock. He felt the warmth of her mouth, her humid breath through the sheet. She cupped his balls in her other hand, weighing them and squeezing them gently. He took another sip of his coffee, as the sheet grew more wet, her mouth warmer, the grip of her hand more firm. "Mm." He felt her tongue tickling him as his hand traveled to her tight teen ass, he groped her, felt her youth. She moaned.
"Can I suck on your cock, Sean?" He took another sip of his coffee, and leaned over, setting it down on the night stand. Tracy quickly pulled the sheet down, and took his cock into her mouth.
"Yes you may," Sean moaned, feeling her mouth and tongue. She moaned, sending pleasant vibes through him. She got the head of his cock wet with her mouth, and smeared it around with her hand. Slowly she took more of his cock into her warm mouth, coating it, spreading her saliva with her hand along the length of his shaft. It felt wonderful. She took his cock out of his mouth and he heard her spit, felt it land on the sensitive underside of his cock. She gathered it with her hand, as it slid up and down his slick cock. She took him quickly back into her mouth, taking him deep, until he felt the back of her mouth. She held him there, one hand squeezing the base of his cock, jacking him off, the other cupping his balls. She started to suck pretty hard. She let a long breath out through her nose and increased her suction. Sean groaned. With a plop, her lips let go of his cock, as she lifted her mouth off it again. she gathered all the saliva she had spat on his cock, smearing it around with her hand.
"You like that, baby?" She asked nastily, her hand sliding up and down.
"Good," she moaned, taking his cock back into her mouth, slowly, further and further while her tongue bathed him. When he felt the back of her mouth again, she started to suck on him real hard. Harder this time, like she was trying to suck a baseball through a garden hose. Sean groaned in appreciation of her strong cheeks. Then he felt the head of his cock slip into her throat, just a bit, as she kept sucking, stroking, squeezing. She gagged slightly, her mouth coming off his cock again. She drooled all along his cock, gathering it with her little hand and taking him back into her mouth, sucking, swallowing, moaning. Her blow-job not only felt great, it sounded fucking amazing! She squirmed, trying to get more of his cock into her mouth. Again, her mouth came off his cock, as Sean groaned in frustration. She chuckled a bit at him, as she rose off his stomach and crawled between his legs. Now he could watch her suck his cock, though he missed having her little body lying across his stomach.
"Big cock you got here," Tracy said, licking him from his balls to the tip of his dick. "Mm." Her hand was traveling swiftly up and down his length as Tracy placed her lips over the head of his dick. With her eyes locked to Sean’s she swallowed him again. Slurping, sucking, spitting, squeezing. "Mm." She was working him with both her hands, and her marvelous mouth, lips, tongue, as he slid past the back of her mouth into her throat. She started with the suction again, harder, more than before. She seemed to be trying to suck his sperm right out of him. It was working, kind of, nicely. Her eyes never left his, her noises pleased him. Her hands stroked him just right. "Mm." She sent little vibes through him. He felt a little tingle in his large balls, his eyes rolled back a bit. Tracy saw his expression and squealed in glee, on his cock, doubling her efforts.
"Coming..." Sean warned. She tripled her efforts. " Coming...coming a lot!" Gleefully, she squealed and squirmed, her anticipation enhancing Sean’s excitement, as he started pumping load after load into her mouth. She eagerly swallowed, but soon she gagged, coughed, her eyes finally leaving his, closing, focusing on swallowing as much of his sperm as she could. She gasped finally, pulling off his cock and taking his last squirt of semen on the chin.
"Oh baby," she moaned, coughed. "Golly, Sean. What have you been saving all that for, huh?" She laughed, coughed, and continued to stroke him, coaxing a bit more fluid from him. "Mm...Good boy, that feel good?" Sean managed to nod. "Good, good and tasty." Tracy burped.
"That was. . . fucking great." She could stay around, he decided, when he left for work.
"What do you do, anyway?" she asked later, still naked as he headed out the front door.