It was going to be a long week, and it hadn't started off well. The conference room my company would be using for management meetings was booked for a wedding reception, so I couldn't get in to set up until ten o'clock. The hotel staff said not to worry, they had all of our requirements and I'd been over the layout we wanted with the assistant manager a dozen times. But it wasn't their ass that would be on the line if it got screwed up. So I spent two hours supervising their crew and finally got the chair count right and the sound system and video working properly around midnight. The hotel was really spread out, with the lobby and conference center near the highway and the rooms in clusters of two-story units. My room was about a quarter of a mile from the conference center so I'd driven over; my Yukon jammed with boxes of brochures and other gear.
There was a bar off the lobby, and since I needed a beer I wandered in. The place was really hopping, but it was apparently popular mainly with the local younger set. The music was too loud and there was no place to sit. So I bought a beer at the bar and watched the action on the dance floor. At forty-two I was about twice the age of the rest of the patrons. Most of the boys wore baggy jeans and muscle shirts, with lots of tattoos and two-tone hair. The girls all had pierced navels; you could tell because they were wearing those jeans with no waistband or pockets, cut so low you could see the tops of their panties. The dancing was energetic, with plenty of grinding, crotch to crotch or better yet with the girl leaning over and rubbing her ass all over the front of the guy. I'd paid big money for lap dances that had less contact.
It was obvious that I wasn't going to get in on any of that action, so when I finished my second beer I made my way back out to the parking lot and my now empty Yukon for the short drive to my room. I'd only had two beers but was still being careful, which was why I saw the back-up lights flash on a sporty little blue Chevy coupe just before it started to jerk out of its parking space directly into my path. A blast from my horn stopped it in time, and I eased around its rear bumper experiencing that little rush you get when you narrowly avoid an accident. At the end of the aisle I eased over a speed bump and then stopped at the entrance to the ring road around the complex, trying to remember which way my room was. Left, I decided and started to pull forward as I felt the impact. Bamm! Someone had rear-ended me; not hard but bad enough to make it a big damn problem that was going to keep me up for an hour of police reports and other crap I sure didn't need.
I looked in the rear-view mirror and started to curse silently. It was that damn blue Chevy again, like warning that asshole once wasn't enough. I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, reminding myself about all the people killed every year in road rage incidents. Then I grabbed a pen and some paper out of my console and climbed out to confront my tormentor, hoping they had insurance.
The other driver was already out of the Chevy. I relaxed, it was a girl and she was by herself so a road rage confrontation was unlikely. She was leaning over her front bumper, studying the damage. She looked up, all teary and frantic as I approached.
"I didn't see you. It was so dark and you like slammed on your brakes!" she wailed.
"Whoa. Hold on little lady. I was completely stopped when you hit me. Didn't you see that stop sign?"
I was starting to get angry again. The girl looked like she might be twenty; I looked at her outfit and figured out what happened. Low-slung jeans that barely covered her crotch, a little sleeveless top that said "Perfect" in pink cursive across her tits, and eyes that weren't focusing very well. This bitch was from the hotel bar, and she'd had more to drink than I had. As I looked her over, the girl slumped against the front fender of her car and buried her face in her hands.
"My dad is going to kill me! I'm going to be so grounded," she sobbed, then looked up. "Do we have to report it? I mean, it doesn't look that bad."
I nodded my head. "I'm afraid so. Just the damage to the bumpers will cost more than five hundred bucks so we've got to have a police report. First things first though. I need your license and insurance card."
She went over and retrieved a tiny purse from the front seat of the Chevy and rummaged in her glove compartment. There was plenty of light from a big overhead mercury vapor lamp to see the cards she handed me. A current insurance card from a reputable company and a license that said her name was Christine Swanson, nineteen years old last December, five foot five and a hundred and ten pounds. She looked taller, but the open-toed sandals with the two-inch soles accounted for that. She was slumped against her fender again ignoring me, so I took the opportunity to study her more carefully. Christine had thick reddish blonde hair that was pulled into a ponytail that fell past her shoulders. There was about a nine-inch gap between the little white top and her jeans, revealing an ever-so-slightly-pudgy midsection and the glint of the jewelry she wore in her belly button.
"Look, Christine. You understand that this isn't my fault. Reporting the accident is the law," I said. All the anger I felt earlier was gone. She nodded, biting her lower lip.
"You've been drinking, haven't you?" I asked. She nodded again.
"Damn. That's a problem," I said.
"You think the cops will be able to tell?" she asked, this new threat suddenly dawning on her. The punishment from her father paled next to a DUI conviction.
"You were coming out of a bar, and if I can tell the cops probably will too. What's the drinking age in this state?" Christine didn't answer, her eyes wide.
"Hey, do we have to call the cops right away? I mean, I only had like three or four beers and I was here a couple of hours. If we waited an hour maybe I'd sober up enough to fool the cops," she said, mind racing. I shook my head.
"I've got to work in the morning, Christine. I can't just stand around here for an hour."
The tears started again, and I began to feel guilty about the trouble the girl was facing. And then it hit me. I had always been a little slow on the uptake where women were involved. I studied Christine again in a completely different light. The little top was cut low enough to reveal some impressive cleavage, and her midriff wasn't really pudgy. There was just a tiny little roll at her hips, probably because the jeans were so tight, and the bulge below her navel was a normal vestige of teen babyfat. Her legs were slim, thickening just a little at the thighs. Her shoulders showed a hint of muscle at the biceps, tapering to long slender arms. Christine wasn't what you'd call a classic beauty but she had big eyes, green according to her driver's license, a slim little upturned nose and very nice cheekbones. Add in a nice set of full lips and a mouth that was maybe a touch small for her face and the overall effect was very pleasing.
"Umm. On the other hand, maybe we could wait a while," I said. The girl looked up hopefully, wiped a hand at her eyes and worked up a smile.
"Really? You'd do that?" she asked.
"Yeah, sure. But it's kind of chilly out here and if we're standing around too long someone's going to think there's a problem." I glanced around; our cars were already at the curb and there was plenty of room to get around them. Besides, it was the back way out of the lot and it didn't seem to get much traffic this late. Christine was frowning; puzzled by the problem I'd raised.
"We could wait in my car," I said, my voice sounding huskier than I'd intended.
"Well, okay. If you think that's better," she said, and started to walk around toward the passenger side.
"No!" I said, a little too loud. Recovering, I smiled reassuringly. "I mean, we're not driving, so just get in here." I reached for the rear driver's side door. "There's more room in the back seat anyway."
Christine's eyes clouded a bit, feeling threatened, but then she smiled as she started to catch on. I opened the door and she stepped up on the running board and ducked to climb in. When she leaned over, the top strap of her panties peeked up over the waist of her jeans. White against her tanned lower back, the fabric glistened in the light. A thin band from hip to hip, and another narrow strip tucked into the crack of her ass. God, I loved thong panties. Christine sat, then scooted over to the passenger side to make room for me. I followed her, settling in with my right thigh pressed against her left leg.
"Well, that's better," I said. The smell of Christine's perfume filled the confined space. I let my eyes drift from hers, down to her mouth.
"You're one hell of a good-looking girl, Christine," I whispered. She smiled awkwardly, and before I lost my nerve I leaned in and kissed her. Her lips were incredibly soft, and moist with a lip-gloss that tasted of strawberries. Christine sat perfectly still, responding politely but not enthusiastically. I reached around her and put my right hand on her slender shoulder, my breath catching as I felt the smooth, firm skin, a degree warmer than mine. I stroked up and down her arm, which hung slack at her side, and enjoyed the kiss. Her ponytail lay across my arm, hair thick and silky. After a minute or so, Christine pulled back and looked into my eyes.
"Is this okay? I mean, is this good enough so we don't have to call the cops right away?"
"So far so good," I said, not feeling particularly bored. I let my left hand drift over to Christine's thigh, stroking her through the tight denim. She shifted a little, squeezing her legs together to defend against this new assault. I shifted my focus, sliding my fingers up to her right hip, stopping where the fabric of her jeans transitioned to more warm, smooth flesh. I started to kiss her more urgently, sucking on her lower lip, then the upper, my tongue working at the gap trying to get her to open her mouth. She resisted, her body stiffening slightly. My left hand continued to migrate, across her belly and onto the little knit top, stopping with my thumb resting against the bottom of her right breast. I nudged up with the thumb, stroking and probing at the soft underside of her titty. Christine allowed that for a minute, then her hand closed over mine, urging it down onto her tummy and safer territory.
As awesome as this had been so far, I realized with sudden clarity that this was one of those rare opportunities that came along once, and if missed would haunt for a lifetime. I had Christine exactly where I wanted her, and there was no way I was going to let her get away with just a quick grope in the back seat of my Yukon.
I pulled my hand away from Christine's stomach and stopped kissing her, withdrawing several inches so I could look into her eyes.
"Maybe this isn't such a good idea," I said. I reached toward the console between the front seats, opened it and retrieved my cell phone. Still close enough that I could smell the beer and mint on her breath as it puffed out of her mouth in little bursts, I flipped the phone open.
"When the cops get here, just stay quiet and maybe they won't catch on that you're drunk. That's important, because you don't want to mess with a DUI. That'd mean a night in jail, and that can be rough," I said, running my tongue over my lips. Christine's eyes got really wide with fear.
"Do we really have to do that?" she pleaded, looking down at her breasts regretting that she stopped me from groping them. Too late for that, I thought.
"Tell you what, Christine. I'm staying at this hotel; I've got a room. Why don't we wander over there while we wait for you to sober up a little? We can both get a lot more comfortable. Who knows, maybe I won't even have to report the accident. I could just tell my insurance company someone hit me in a parking lot, which is true. You could do the same thing, and your dad wouldn't even get mad at you." I said. She opened her mouth but didn't say anything for a moment, struggling with her decision.
"That would be great but I can't go to your room; it wouldn't be right. Can't we just stay here? I'll let you touch my boobs," she said hopefully. I gave her a stern stare.
"Look, I've got a big day tomorrow. I can't afford to waste my time. Why don't I just call the cops now, then we can call your insurance company. There's a 24-hour number on your card," I said coldly. The moment of truth had arrived. Christine opened and closed her mouth a couple of times quickly, her eyes wide with panic.
"No! Your room would be okay," she said quickly. Bingo, I said to myself. This gorgeous little piece of ass was mine. I reached up and held her chin between a thumb and finger, then let my finger trail across her lower lip.
"Hop up in the front seat where I can keep an eye on you, cupcake," I said, reaching across to open the passenger side rear door for her. I opened my own door and got out, adjusting my pants to allow for the rock-hard erection that was straining against the waistband of my slacks. I sat behind the wheel and waited for Christine to climb in next to me, then started the Yukon. I drove away from her Chevy, then glanced over at my passenger. She was slumped in the seat staring at her knees, hands folded daintily in her lap. I decided to loosen her up with a little small talk.
"Are you in school?" I asked.
She shook her head. "I finished high school but was kind of burned out. So I got a job, just to make enough for clothes and stuff." She mumbled the name of a popular fast-food submarine sandwich chain. "I'm going to go back to school, though," she added, still studying her knees.
We were entering the parking area for my building. I picked a space in a dim part of the lot, not sure if there were security cameras. I leaned against the center console and slid my fingers around her right tit, massaging it roughly. My breathing quickened, feeling her hard little nipple through her shirt and bra.
"Okay then. Let's go in," I said. I jumped out and hurried around to meet Christine on the passenger side, afraid she might bolt. I got a firm grip on her arm and led her toward the flight of stairs to the second floor of my building. I gave her a little shove up the stairs, wanting her to walk ahead of me so I could get a good look at her ass. Good lord, I thought. Christine's nicely rounded butt-cheeks were about all that appeared to be keeping her jeans from sliding down her thighs. The jeans were so tight that I wondered how she could walk in them.
"Left," I said, as we got to the landing. I pulled my card key from my pocket, and when we got to my door I grabbed Christine by the shoulder and turned her, then moved closer until my crotch was pressed against that incredible ass. My dick was so stiff it hurt, and when I shoved against her the head worked its way past the waistband of my boxers. I reached around her and cupped a tit with each hand, and leaned forward until my lips were pressed against the lobe of Christine's right ear.
"You understand what we're doing here, right?" I asked, my voice surprising me. It was deep, and throaty, almost a growl.
Christine nodded her head. "You don't have to do this, Christine. But if we've got a deal on this, then when we get inside you're going to do whatever I tell you to do, right?"
She bobbed her head up and down again.
I stroked the card key through the lock and the little green light illuminated, followed by a faint clicking sound. I shoved the door open, then reached around Christine and flipped on the lights. I moved forward, my hands on her shoulders. I pushed her to the edge of the bed and let go. Christine sat down, shoulders hunched, her hands folded in her lap again. I locked and bolted the door, then went to the mini bar and pulled out a beer for myself; my throat was really dry. I looked over the supply of liquor and selected a miniature bottle of tequila for Christine. I opened my beer and sucked down half of it as I walked back over to my little captive fuck. I dropped the tequila in her lap.
"Here. This'll loosen you up a little," I said. Hands shaking, she opened the bottle and then quickly drained it. Christine looked up.
"Can I have another one?" she asked. I nodded, taking another pull on my beer. She shuffled over to the mini bar and opened it. I sat on the bed, rubbing a thumb over the cool, wet beer bottle as I studied Christine from behind. In the light, her waist was narrower than I'd first thought, the smooth line of her spine dissecting it neatly. Her tanned hips swelled impressively at the top of her jeans, the strap of her thong now in full view. She leaned over and selected two more little bottles of tequila, then returned to sit next to me on the bed.
"Good idea to stick with the tequila, we don't want to upset your tummy. Now drain those like a good little girl so we can get started," I said. I watched as she opened both bottles and tilted one, then the other. Her throat worked, gulping the liquor, then she coughed. Christine's eyes, a gorgeous deep green now that I could see them, were watering from the sting of the tequila. She dropped the empties on the floor. Her hands were shaking a little and she looked like she might cry. I started to feel guilty about what I intended; Christine came to my room willingly, but I'd put her in an impossible position. I quickly quashed those thoughts; there was no way I was going to miss out on this because of an overactive conscience. Besides, I'd already gone too far to turn back.
I reached over and slid my hand under the front of her shirt. It was loose at the bottom, only three or four inches below her breasts, so it was easy to shove it up enough to see Christine's bra. It wasn't really a bra; it was one of those one-piece knit things with no snaps or hardware that girls who didn't need much support liked. I reached for the taut strip of fabric between her tits, intending to pull the thing up and out of the way but her shirt fell back blocking my view. I gave the shirt a firmer shove, all the way up past Christine's armpits. Liking the look a lot, I fisted a handful of the shirt and twisted it tight, then shook the teenager's upper torso a little and was rewarded with a nice bounce of her tits despite the snug stretch bra.
"I'll do it," Christine said quietly, freeing my hand and then pulling the tiny white cotton top over her head. She folded it carefully and placed it on the bed. Unimpeded, I grabbed the center of the bra and pulled it up until her tits sprang into full view. I sucked in a quick breath. They were awesome, high and firm, thrusting out from a nicely toned chest at a gravity-defying angle. Christine obviously favored a tiny string bikini; little triangles of tan-free flesh barely accommodated her nipples. As big as silver dollars and pale, her aureoles were puffy, sticking out a good half inch from each tit, topped by a perfect pebble of nipple. The bra had fooled me, pressing Christine's tits into firm rounded mounds the size of softballs instead of the proud, upturned wonders in front of me.
"Arms up, Christine." I ordered, pulling the bra all the way over her head and dropping it on the floor. She reached for it, intending to fold it like her top. I grabbed her slender arm just above the elbow, and pulled the girl into my lap.
"Take care of that later. First things first," I said. With her tight little ass nestled against my crotch, I reached around and grabbed a double handful of perfect titty. Squeezing and rubbing hard at the left one, I caught the right nipple between a thumb and forefinger. I pulled Christine back tight against my chest so I had a nice view over her bare shoulder. As I pinched and twisted at the nipple, it went erect involuntarily and Christine gave a little moan. Loving the effect, I repeated it on the left side. Nuzzling at the side of her neck I caught her earlobe between my teeth, enjoying the taste of her skin and the smell of her perfume.
"Christine, you are so fucking hot," I whispered, then twisted her around so I could see her face. She had a little spray of light freckles across her nose, and her nostrils flared with each breath, shallow and rapid. Her eyes were wide, more wary than scared. With my forefinger I traced around her mouth, then stroked her lower lip lightly with the fingertip. My hand slid to the back of Christine's head and pulled it forward, covering her mouth with mine. My tongue dove deep, chasing hers and probing every part of the orifice I intended to violate first, savoring the sweet taste of it. As I pulled away I found the frilly little band that held her hair in the ponytail and worked it free. Christine's hair fell to her shoulders, lush and glistening in the light. That was better; it made her look even younger, her upper body more delicate.
I shifted the girl forward, turning her so she slid off the bed and to her knees facing me. Holding her shoulder with one hand, I used the other to pop the straining button at the waist of my slacks, then loosen the zipper. I worked my boxers, damp with pre-cum, down a bit and my cock sprang free, fully erect. Christine stared at my nine-inch dick, as big around as her forearm, knowing what I wanted next. I pulled her forward until her tits were pressed against my thighs, then rubbed the head of my penis against each cheek, then her chin, finally resting it against her clenched lips.
"Open up for papa, Christine," I said, opening my own mouth as an example like I was feeding a toddler. She shook her head. "I'm not screwing around here. I call the shots and you obey, remember your promise? Now open that sweet little mouth of yours." Staring up at me, Christine finally opened her mouth a little, enough for me to force most of the head of my dick in.
"That's better. Now lick it... yeah, like that. All the way around," I said, sighing with pleasure. As she ran her tongue around me she had to open her mouth wider and I shoved another two inches in, holding her in place with my right hand, fingers twined in the hair on the back of her head.
"Good girl, Christine. Wrap your lips tighter around it and breathe through your nose or you'll choke... like that." Her eyes looked panicked and air was snorting out of her nose like a little steam engine. I settled in and got into a nice motion, working my dick further and further in until I was giving Christine at least four or five inches and could feel the head pounding up against her tonsils. I had to do all the work with my hips because it was impossible to pull her head forward anymore; she was bracing hard, hands on my knees. Christine's form was terrible but her mouth was soft and warm, and the desperate way her tongue was fluttering around felt great. And she was drooling like a basset hound, saliva running out of both corners of her mouth.
"Yeah, baby. Suck me, Christine. Suck my dick." Not very original, but I wasn't paying much attention to what I was saying because I was enjoying the blowjob so much. Christine wasn't listening either, because she was concentrating so hard on breathing and on trying to keep my cock out of her throat. She was shoving up from her knees, trying to get away that way, so I put my left hand on the top of her head. My strokes started to get more erratic and I felt my balls start to tighten up. I was getting ready to blow, and was going to do it right down her throat. The first spurt caught Christine by surprise but she handled it without gagging, swallowing quickly.
"Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. That's it," I moaned, leaning forward and holding her head firmly in place. I was cumming like a racehorse, in big hot gushing squirts, and she couldn't swallow it fast enough. Christine opened her mouth wide and let the streams of semen run out, down onto her tits and stomach. Finally the flood subsided and my dick started to go limp in her mouth. I let go of her head and Christine fell back onto the carpeting, gasping for air and wiping at her mouth with the back of a hand.
"That was great, Christine. Your form could use some work but you're a fucking natural," I said, catching my breath. I stood and finished getting undressed, looking down at her and enjoying the thought of pulling those jeans off so I could get a better look at her ass. I reached down and slid a hand under each of her arms, then pulled her to her feet easily.