Chapter 2 : Educating Angel

After I dropped Angel off a where she told me, a block from her home, I sat there thinking about what had just happened.

And what had just happened was, I can’t believe my luck!

I mean, what are the odds of me actually finding a sexy little twat who’d be willing to get into my van with me and who turns out to be willing to “play” – even asks me if I want to “make out” and if I want to make out again!

And then the pessimist in me kicks in and I start to think of all the things that could go wrong. Her not showing next Saturday is the least of them – although that would be a MAJOR disappointment. But the other things, like telling her friends, or her parents finding out – these could definitely be “career enders.” And by “career” I mean, “living outside of prison.”

But then I start remembering what just happened less than two hours ago. I got her to come into my van, then talked her into taking off her shirt and letting me play with her pointy little tits and fingered her to a climax, then sucked her pussy til she came again, even squirted some on me while I was doing it. Then she jacked me off through my pants, and then she asked me to take my pants off and she got on her knees and sucked me off and had me cum in he mouth.

After that I fingered her pretty strongly and she ended up having a humongous climax that caused her to squirt a bunch pee onto my van carpet.

And also, what I did. She’d asked me if I wanted to kiss her, right after I came in her mouth – and I did. In fact, I actually ran my tongue around inside her slutty little mouth and could taste my own cum, and god help me, it actually turned me on. Don’t know what that implies for the future.

But while I was driving back home there was one main thing on my mind: Will she show up next Saturday? And if she does, what will I be able to get her to do then?

I turned into my driveway, pushed the button on the automatic garage door opener, drove in, closed the garage door and walked through the door that opens into the little hallway that leads to my kitchen – and to the stairs to the basement.

My house is in what you might call a “semi urban-semi-rural” neighborhood. Every property is at least and acre, some an acre and a half or two, and most have lots of small and medium trees. The streets are blacktopped but there are no curbs or sidewalks, and lots of the houses – like mine – have gravel driveways, often with several cars in varying states of operability parked on them. Some of the houses, the ones that don’t use electric for heating, have tanks outside for heating oil.

So in other words, not a lot of nosy neighbors seeing who’s coming and going into my house.

I dropped my car keys on the formica counter and got an Old Style out of the fridge. I deserved a Heineken to celebrate today’s unbelievable success at being a creep but I never got around to replacing the carton I finished two weeks ago. And that got me thinking – about preparing for next Saturday’s “guest.”

I wanted to make sure the mini-fridge in the basement was full of appropriate beverages, but there was a lot more I needed to do to make it right for the ideas I had.

The vacuum cleaner first, of course, but this time not limiting it to the to the soft, deep burgundy plush carpet that covers the entire floor. (It’s really nice carpet, much better than anywhere else in my house. Normally I couldn’t afford anything this good but a buddy of mine “knew a guy” who had a bunch that had been “left on the truck,” if you catch my drift.) And really deep foam padding, so it’s almost like walking on a cushion.

Corners, shelves, lamps and fixtures, and, of course, the futon that would be the center point of Saturday’s entertainment!

Yeah, the futon. I invested in a really good mattress – queen-sized 8-inch thick foam-and-cotton-batting, and it’s perfect for my needs – you can use it like a couch and sit and talk “normally,” but if and when things start to get frisky I can pull it off the frame and onto the carpet and I’ve got a great soft-yet-firm fuck cushion.

I also got a 50-inch TV with a VCR, a DVD player, and a laptop computer hooked up to it

In fact, if you haven’t got the picture yet, my basement is set up pretty much as a play room. The rest of the house is stereotypical bachelor – a few pieces of inexpensive furniture and minimal decoration, but the basement is designed for... play.

But no – no neon “Bud Light” signs anywhere!

Back to the futon mattress. I was going to put on the mattress pad but then realized that the one I was going to use was pretty well washed out and I was planning (hoping!) that I’d need more protection than that. Time to do some shopping.

I got in the car and drove the two miles to the local supercenter to get a new heavier-duty mattress pad. In the same section I saw some bed sheets I thought would look sophisticated and sexy to Angel so I bought a set. Those, plus a supply of drinks – Red Bull, Monster, some Frappachinos, and several flavors of Powerade and I thought I was ready for Angel visit.

Then I got another idea and on impulse picked up some snacks that I thought had the potential for some naughty fun – soft ice cream custard, banana cream pudding, some little cakes that I never heard of, kind of like Twinkies but smaller around and less spongy.

Then I was good to go.

As soon as I got home I tossed the mattress pad into the washing machine to get any new-made smell out of it – I figured I could wash the new sheets later. When it came out of the dryer I went and put it on the futon mattress, but then I had this thought. Since the girl – damnit, what’s her name again? – Angel, yeah, Angel – seemed to have a rather ... casual attitude toward the occasional spurt – or burst – of pee during sex, that maybe I oughta put the plastic mattress cover on over the mattress pad. Better safe...

And speaking of pee ... I was practically peeing my pants all week thinking about whether she – Angel – would actually be at the park Saturday, and if she was would she still be up for a continuation of the things we did in the van last week – and maybe even more!

I even thought about washing the van. In fact, I even had the hose and the long-handled brush out but then I remembered: inconspicuous! Keep the van looking nondescript, unnoticeable, unmemorable.

So Saturday comes and it’s drizzling a little and I remember she said that if it was raining she’d be in the park shelter house. And while I’m driving to the park, was I thinking about what I was doing (hell, yeah!) and how immoral it was (rat’s ass), and about the risk I’m be taking? Yeah, I thought about them. I’ve thought about them all the years I been doing this, cruising for pussy, the younger the better. But this one – Angel – seemed cool about it so I don’t think it’s a big risk with this one.

So as I turn the corner I’m a little nervous. There’s a knot in my stomach and it’s like there’s a lump in my throat. And it’s not fear. Well, yeah, it’s fear, but it’s fear that she’s not going to show. But then I get closer and I see that she’s seen my van and she’s walking toward the corner of the parking lot.

And I realize, my cock’s starting to thicken just looking at her.

Because she’s perfect! Perfect for me, at least. Mid-teens, maybe five-foot-four or -five, with those pointy tits that are starting to form little cones on her chest pressing out against the white ribbed tank-top she’s wearing, and her cut-off denim shorts that are creeping up into her crotch. She’s got this face which is kind of Hispanic, or maybe Asian, or both, and her dark brown hair is pulled back into a single ponytail this time...

And seeing her, like this, now, what I want to do is throw her in the back of the van and rape the shit out of her, that’s how fuckin’ hot she looks!

But I realize that if I play my cards right that I can get months, maybe years, of raping the shit out of this little cunt.

So I lean across the seat and pull the handle so the door opens for her and she takes it and opens it the rest of the way and slides in.

I want to get the hell out of there before anyone and takes any notice of us, but the first thing I do is say, “Seat belt,” and she says oh yeah and buckles herself in. Yeah, wouldn’t that be the icing in the cake – all my precautions and I get pulled over for a seat belt violation!

So I pull away from the curb, carefully we drive for about a block, and she still hasn’t said anything. Gotta love teenager eloquence. So it’s up to me to get things – to get the day – started.

“Hey ... Angel, I’m really glad to see you,” and then added, “again.”

“Yeah.” And then realizing that the situation might call for something more said, “I mean, I’m glad to see you again, too.” And then she added, “Tell the truth, I wasn’t sure you’d be here. I was afraid maybe you’d forgot about me ... or ... somethin’”

Oh, I can’t believe this! She’s afraid that I forgot about her? Oh, this is just too good to be true! I have to play on this insecurity of hers.

“Angel ... Sweetheart ... do you think I could forget about you? How could you think ... why would you think I’d ever forget about you?” I tried to set it up so she’d have to reply – truthfully, I hoped.

She thought about it, but not for long.

“‘Cause you’re a man and I’m just a girl, and why would a man like you be interested in someone like me, just a kid.”

Oh, my sweet, naive darling – you can’t even imagine how much a “man like me” is interested in “a girl like you.”

“Oh, Angel, that’s just...” What is that, anyway? “That’s just silly. Why wouldn’t I be interested in you. You’re smart” (yes, I managed to choke that out) and pretty...,” and then what I hoped would set the tone for what’s to come, “ ... and sexy,” and I saw her perk up when she heard me say that she’s sexy.

And to demonstrate that I think she’s sexy I reached over and placed my hand softly on her sturdy thigh – and left it there.

She jumped a little at the first touch, but then she relaxed – spread her thighs a little wider, even.

So I just let my hand move around a little on her soft young skin, not trying to “do” anything, just letting her get used to the fact that I felt free to touch her. Her hips started to move in response to being touched “there,” and it looked like she was trying to slid her hips forward in the car seat, bringing her crotch closer to my hand that was on her thigh.

“I thought about you, too, Angel. All this week I’ve been remembering what we did – last week, last Saturday – here in the van...”

She smiled.

“Yeah, I thought about that, too.”

To keep things going I said, “Remember, some of the things we did last week?” She didn’t answer so I guess it’s up to me to get things moving.

“Remember when you put your hands on my pants, and you touched me through my pants?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, maybe you could do something like that – now...”

Still not real quick on the pick-up, so I reached over and took her hand and placed it on my pants, right where my cock was.

She certainly seemed to remember what to do then, and she started giving my cock that same through-the-pants treatment she gave it last week.

After about a minute of this – remember, we’re still driving – she asks, “So, are we gonna park, like we did the last time, mister?”

Now’s the time to spring my agenda on her.

But first,...

“I’m Mike.” (No I’m not – my name’s Ed.) “I was thinking – maybe we could go to my place this time. I’ve got lots of space and it’s real comfortable, and I got a fridge full of drinks, and I thought it’d be nice if this time we went there – but that’s only if you got the time, o’course...,” hoping...

“Yuh, I don’t gotta be home til dinner” (oh, happy day!), “so I guess that’d be okay.”

So I concentrated on my driving – her gifted hand was still working my cock – taking a round-about route to my place so I hoped she wouldn’t know exactly where it was – in the event that questions ever came up about where...

I ended up driving north of my street, then looping back south so we’d be coming at it from exactly the opposite direction from where we started. I pulled into the drive and hit the automatic garage door opener so no distant neighbor could see a young girl getting out of my car. I showed her into the house and straight down the stairs and into the basement playroom. She looked around, and her eyes seemed to be caught by the big colorful throw cushions I had scattered around, and also by the big TV that was front-and-center.

“Cool.”

I guessed that about the best I could hope for, so I just told her she could leave her backpack by the stairs.

“Would you like something to drink?’

“I guess so. Whaddya have?”

“Easiest if you come and see for yourself.”

I went to the half-fridge I have down there and opened the door.

“Cool, Red Bull – I love this.”

“Smart choice. “ Can’t hurt to lay on a little compliment. “I think I’ll have one too.”

So we popped the tops and I guided us over to the futon, which I’d left in couch mode – didn’t want to scare her with the sight of a bed right at the start.

So we sit, and I try a little conversation. I ask about school and family and friends (especially about friends!), but as you’ve probably figured out, she is not very loquacious.

I’m sitting right next to her, and we’re touching, thighs and arms and shoulders, but I haven’t made any moves, remembering that we have all afternoon, when she says, “Don’t ya like me any more?”

Huh!

This could be bad – or good!

“What do you mean, Sweetheart?” slipping in that familiar term of affection, “Why would you think I don’t like you any more?”

“Well, cuz you haven’t made any moves on me since in the car.”

So that’s it. You want moves – I got lots of moves I’ve been planning all week for you.

“No, Angel, Sweetheart,” Sweetheart again, “I just figured we have plenty of time.” But then added, but if there’s something else you’d like us to do, I’d like that, too.”

She thought, like she hadn’t really thought about specifics before.

“Maybe if you kissed me – if we kissed...?” As a question.

“That’d be nice – I’d love to kiss you, I mean, I’d love it if we kiss.” Mister Smooth.

Now, how to get started.

I set my Red Bull down on the end table, then took hers and put it therethen put my fingers under her chin and tilted her head toward me and kissed her, very softly.

Her lips! They were so young, and soft, and smelled of something tropical, maybe like a pina colada or strawberry daiquiri lip gloss.

And she didn’t react at first.

At first.

But all of a sudden she started kissing back, real hard – but not very expertly.

My fingers were still under her chin, so I kind of guided her head to stay still while I backed my lips away a bit and looked right into her eyes, real sincere-like.

“Mmmm, that was nice. You really kiss good. Now let’s do it this way.”

I put my lips to hers again, only this time I moved them around, just rubbing them back and forth across her plump, firm lips, then putting my lips around her bottom lip and squeezing it a little, then rubbing lips again, then slipping my tongue in between her lips and moving it around, not trying to shove it down her throat, but enough for her to know that her mouth was being invaded.

And my hands.

While she was mostly lost in our kissing I slid my hand up her thigh and over her hip – and up to where that pointy little tit and began to roll the hard little nipple that was pressing against her loose-weave tank top.

When I did that she groaned and her body seemed to sag into me, and I’m thinking, “Off to the races!”

I thought that I’d have to keep up this “petting” shit for a while, so she surprised the crap out of me when she suddenly shifted her whole body on the couch. I thought she might be trying to pull away from me, but what she did was, she lifted her leg over me and straddled me on the couch and mash her lips against mine while her hands were grasping the the hem of her tight tank top.

As soon as I realized what she was doing I reached down and helped, til I pulled the top up over her head and arms, and once she was free of that she pulled my head to her bare chest, or else it was shoving her tits in my face. But whatever it was, it ended up with her tits in my mouth. My lips immediately closed around one nipple and I squeezed it, then held it in my lips while I tongued it, then pulled her closer and took that perfect cone of a young tit into my mouth.

I ran my tongue all around it, giving it a good spit bath and sucking gently on it, and at the same time my other hand is squeezing her other tit and rolling the tip between my fingers, Then I switched, putting my lips around her right tit and giving it the full treatment while I fingered her left tit.