Chapter 2: Her

Two days later, with the house fully occupied, Alan walked past Dawn in the kitchen. Without so much as a glance at her, he said, sotto voce, "My den at midnight."

Our little fledgling strumpet smiled to herself. After two nights of somewhat satisfying masturbation — her orgasms pleased her clitoris greatly but she still couldn't get the sight of the Senor's cock out of her mind — Dawn was ready to spread her legs, to take him inside her, to feel the throb of his ejaculation. The day before she had again lain naked at the pool, her crotch soaking with girl cum, but she saw no movement in the upstairs den. Her inner smile also signified her amusement at the thought that the Senor and the Senora had often screamed loudly about each other's infidelities, no longer — if ever - a secret around the house. Perhaps he did not want to publicize his latest conquest because of her age; that fucking bitch could really put the squeeze on his balls then.

Suddenly, with wisdom far beyond her fourteen years, Dawn realized that she had just thought of Melody Dean as 'that fucking bitch.' She wondered what sort of hold Alan Dean had over her that she would begin to think as he did, about a woman who had never been anything but sweet to her. It mattered not to Dawn how the Senora spent her husband's oodles of money, nor that she apparently — she never denied her husband's accusations — gave her body freely to one or more tennis instructors at their Club. It was the place that both Deans spoke of with a capitalized C and Dawn didn't give a damn. But how, she wondered, had she allowed herself to take sides in a battle that she cared nothing about? She had no dog in that fight! Could it be because she had decided to allow Alan Dean to be the one to formally take her maidenhead, albeit symbolically because her own fingers had long since obliterated that virginal obstacle?

She shook her head as if to clear cobwebs, to put Melody Dean from her mind. Her thoughts for the next few hours would be only about the thrill that she anticipated as Alan Dean put his monstrous male member, that COCK into her waiting vagina for the first time. She went to her room, shut the door and sat down, closing her eyes. She pictured again the hard flesh that had been in her mouth, spitting its seed. Her mouth watered and so did her vagina, with a different fluid. She touched herself, feeling the dampness of her panties. Her mind drifted; she no longer thought of that sweet spot between a girl's legs as a vagina, it had become a pussy. She leaned back, rubbing harder, imagining Alan's cock inside her, plunging, plunging inside that most sacred and secret space, now thought of as her CUNT!

Dawn pondered, like a debutante preparing for her first ball or a movie star for a grand opening, what she should wear on her midnight visit to the Senor's den. That it would be a regular fucking and not just a blow job she had no doubt. She had refused him that visit between her legs two days earlier and surely he would brook no further rejection; the Senor was a demanding man. The eagerness she herself felt about her upcoming first formal step into womanhood tempted her to sneak up there stark naked, but she lacked the nerve. Her trepidation saddened Dawn, for surely Alan Dean would love the sight of her dark tanned body totally revealed, so much closer than the one hundred feet away of the other day.

Her concern about being seen annoyed Dawn. At fourteen, she still lacked the savoir faire that would want others to know how she shared her sexual favors. At that age, she knew only that she had the proverbial 'itch that must be scratched' but she hadn't yet shed her shyness. She had hoped for a boyfriend to take her virginity, but only Alan Dean waited to perform that delightful chore. Might the same bikini bathing suit she had thrown off the other day be the vehicle to rush the blood to fill that man's cock? She almost laughed out loud at the concept that any artificial assistance whatever would be need for that erection. Perhaps the sexy skimpy panties and bra that she had bought for herself, that outfit that every teenage girl hides from her mother? It would definitely make her feel sexier, but anyone seeing her would know her destination.

So unfortunately it came down to a choice between jeans and a shirt on the one hand or a long cotton nightshirt on the other; the jeans won. Dawn decided that a loose blouse would hide the absence of a bra, an iffy decision given the exquisite nature of those breasts and their dusky nipples, but a chance she would take. The missing panties would never be noticed by anyone but the Senor, and then only after her jeans had hit the floor. Surely he wouldn't mind. Dawn didn't yet know that the idea of a woman walking around without panties, pussy unprotected, gives every man one of his most supreme excitements, an instant erection.

Allow me to interject. Try going out with your lover to a crowded formal Dinner-Dance, with neither of you wearing any underwear. Mingling, joking, playing kissy-face, even a little flirting with international bankers, movie and television personalities, people you don't usually hang with, people who casually wear gowns and tuxedos every evening, while you are buck naked beneath your own dress garments. Your outer garments rub your clean-shaven pubes all evening; you can't wait to get back to the king size bed in your hotel room. It was wonderful foreplay for the most erotic and yet romantic night of my life, of both our lives. You will think of it again every time you make love. For that night it will be making love, not just fucking. Trust me on this.

Dawn looked at her watch. It would be hours before she had to shower and dress for her assignation. Too bad that she had no perfume to excite the man who would be her first. All she had was some eau de toilette given to her by Senora Melody. It had been a re-gift from her, something someone had given her, some peasant who didn't know that Senora only used the real parfum. She would dab a little behind each ear, some under each breast and, the piece de resistance, a few drops on that smooth area between her cunt — Dawn's temporary new word for her sacred area — and her ass.

Poor little Dawn never stopped to think about the fact that Senor Alan Dean, moneybags himself, didn't give a flying fuck about how she dressed for their appointment at midnight. Her brain acted as though it would be a seduction, as though the Senor would have to be convinced of her charms. Nor did he care how she smelled, as long as she didn't smell like cat piss. He thoroughly enjoyed eating pussy whenever he had enough time to do so, whenever he didn't have to think of making more money or where his wife might be. Tonight he didn't have that problem; Melody would be staying with her friend Carolyn. Alan knew that Carolyn was just a beard, that Melody used her name whenever she needed an excuse to do an all-nighter with Nick, the tennis pro at the 'our shit doesn't stink' Club.

Dawn watched a cable show while she waited, one of those soft-porn shows where they show nipples but only a fleeting glimpse of pussy and absolutely no cock, fucking where they show asses moving toward each other but not the connecting parts, and heads between legs but again neither tongue nor twat. She had occasionally watched it previously, but didn't consider it porn because they never showed the actual acts. Whatever; it had her wet as she turned off the set and stripped for her shower. Down to bare skin, she looked up when she heard Mama open her door. Rosa's brow tightened when she saw that Dawn had no tan line around crotch and breasts.

"Oh, little girl, you are growing up. I see that you are sunbathing without a bathing suit."

"But I like it, Mama. No one can see me."

"But I see the way that Senor Dean looks at you, little girl."

Dawn, caught by surprise, blushed. Then she made a mistake. She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it wordlessly. Rosa's eyes widened.

"You have been with Senor Dean?" she asked. Though ended with a question mark, the words meant that Rosa knew. Dawn nodded slowly.

"When?" she pressed on.

"Two days ago," came the answer.

Knowing the truth, Rosa still could not believe her ears when she heard it. "You must never never be with him again. Promise me that."

Dawn shook her head sadly. "I am meeting him at twelve o'clock."

Rosa did what all mothers do when they learn that their precious daughters have had sex before mother thought that the time had arrived. She cried. Then she tried every trick she could think of to talk Dawn out of meeting the Senor, all to no avail. After all, what has more power, a mother's tears or her teenage daughter's raging hormones?

But most important of all, Rosa, whose only sexual experience in her entire lifetime had been on the night of Dawn's conception, spent the next morning obtaining a prescription for 'THE PILL'. She had it filled and gave it to Dawn that same afternoon. Though it violated all the religious principles that she had been taught, Rosa did not wish to become a grandmother. Not then, anyway.

The confrontation had reduced by one-third the risk of Dawn being seen meeting with Alan Dean, but she decided not to change from the decision to wear jeans and a blouse. After her shower and dabs of scent where planned, plus additional drops on each nipple, Dawn slipped out of her room and headed for the upper stairs. She hadn't wanted to hurt Mama, but she knew that if she cancelled this date, Alan would have her soon anyway, with her full consent, probably in a matter of days.

Dawn was alone in the hall as she slithered upstairs. The den was illuminated only be a small desk lamp. The Senor sat on the couch, wearing a silk bathrobe. Despite the dimness, Dawn could see that the belt had been opened, that the two sides had fallen apart. She saw him slowly stroking his cock, his hand hiding most of it but its length clearly apparent.

"Shut the door, Dawn, and come here."

She did so and stood before him, her eyes fixed on the lance of lust, that weapon for which she had just delivered her cunt to Mama's employer. Without thinking, she knelt and reached out her hand for the pale piece of hard flesh, flesh she had previously touched only with her mouth. The Senor reached under her arms and lifted her, shaking his bald head vigorously.