Hailey Miller and I were sort of friends once. In kindergarten. We were in Brownies together. After we finished the cookie sale that year, her mother invited us all over tot heir house for a big pool party. We still go to school together, but we don't hang out or anything. Hailey's a cheerleader and I'm ... well ... not a cheerleader. We're aware of one another, but don't even nod hello when we pass in the hallway

So it was sort of weird to be lying in her bed.

Naked.

With her dad.

"Oh yeah," Mr. Miller grunted, as he thrust himself into me so hard I yelped out loud. "Take that big cock, you dumb little whore!"

Lots of guys moan that their cocks are big, but Mr. Miller's really was. Too big for a girl as small as me. He knew it, too, but the old bastard liked to make me wince.

"Oh yeah, Mr. Miller," I wailed. "Pound my cunt. Do me harder!"

It turned him on when I called him "Mister Miller", which was good because I didn't actually know his first name. Jim or Bob or Tony or something.

He was riding me missionary style on Hailey's bed, with my knees pulled up over his shoulders. At that angle, his rod strained my vagina, and every thrust felt like it'd burst right through me.

"I'm gonna cum in you, whore," he snarled, his facing flushing red. "I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna fill your dirty little snatch up and there's nothing you can do about it!"

"No, Mr. Miller, you can't," I pleaded. "I'm not on the pill!"

That was a lie. I'd been on the pill since I was 12, but its what he liked to hear.

"I don't care ... Katie ... you ... dirty ... little ... bitch ... It's not my ... fucking ... problem..." his thrusts got quicker and shallower, and his face got redder. "You're ... a ... worthless ... fucking ... WHORE!"

He shouted "whore" and his whole body tensed. He was cumming.

After a few breathless moments with my legs still pulled up high on his shoulders, he collapsed down on top of me and we spooned there on Hailey's bed. I didn't even pretend to orgasm, and he probably would've been mad if I did.

"Aren't you supposed to be in school still?" he asked.

"Left early," I said. "Therapy appointment." That was a joke; my therapist, the esteemed Dr. Bruce Elder was our mutual acquaintance, and the guy who arranged these little rendezvous. Either Mr. Miller didn't get it or he was too disinterested to laugh. "Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"Yeah, probably," he said. I have no idea what he did for a living. He had plenty of money though, and always called me in the middle of the day.

We were quiet again.

Mr. Miller and I had fucked in Hailey's bedroom lots of times before--it was like his favorite place to do it--but this was the first time we'd actually ended up on her bed. Usually he did me on the floor. The mattress was an improvement, super soft and way more comfortable than mine. She even had the slippery smooth sheets I liked. I wondered if her dad'd let me take a nap before I left.

His hand traipsed down my bare belly to rest between my legs.

"Again?" I asked. It was sort of surprising, since I could feel his still limp dick against my back.

"I just like feeling teenage pussy," he said. "Don't worry, I'll pay you extra."

That hadn't really been my point, but paying me "extra" was meaningless anyway. The money thing between us was barely defined. He always paid me, but sometimes he'd fuck me sideways and leave me with fifty bucks, and other times he'd pay five hundred just to finger me. There was no rhyme or reason to it.

"Isn't it getting kind of late though?" I asked. School let out at 2:30 and it was pushing 4:00. Hailey's cheerleading practice had to be ending eventually, and Mrs. Miller wouldn't work all night.

"Relax," was all he said.

His fingers danced over my clit and across my pussy lips. Maybe it was because the sex had left me worked up and unsatisfied, but it actually felt really, really good. Even as I continued to fret about getting caught, I hoped he wouldn't stop. "Mmmm," I purred, "I like that. I might have to pay you extra!"

He laughed. When his cock was throbbing Mr. Miller was a sadistic asshole who wanted to hurt me, but between erections he kind of sort of liked me.

"I can't believe how wet your pussy gets," he said. "Taking it hard really gets you going, doesn't it?"

I just smiled, closed my eyes and let him continue to toy with my pussy. If only every man could touch me like that!

But then there were footsteps. Right then, when I was so close I could almost taste it, someone was coming up the steps. We both jumped up in a panic...

Under pressure, I kind of go to pieces. There's not a resourceful bone in my body, and true to form I pretty much froze up there thinking of ways to apologize. Mr. Miller, thankfully, was better about it, and he yanked me with him into the closet.

We were trapped, but at least we were hidden. And it was an impressively large closet, the walk-in kind with a whole set of cubbies for like a million pairs of shoes.

Through the slats in the door, we saw Hailey come into her room, still in her little cheerleader outfit. Hailey wasn't dumb--we'd even been in a couple of honors classes together--but its hard to think of cheerleaders as anything but moronic. And slutty. Moronic and slutty.

And actually, given the slutty part, it wasn't all that surprising when Hailey's boyfriend, Josh Gillen, followed her into the room and closed the door. At least it wasn't surprising to me; those two were way into the PDA, in the hallway, in the cafeteria, in the parking lot, there really wasn't a spot at Harmony High where they hadn't hooked up.

Mr. Miller I guess didn't know about all that, cause he looked kind of surprised and kind of mad. I wanted to point out the irony of that, seeing as how we'd just finished screwing on the exact same bed, but some things just aren't germane to discuss while you're hiding naked with a teenage prostitute in your daughter's closet. Also, Hailey and Josh were on the bed like four feet away and I didn't want to get caught.

So there we were, a teenage girl and a middle aged man, huddling in a closet like scared animals. Also, we were naked. That last part shouldn't have slipped my mind--usually, when you're naked, you're very aware of being naked--but it did. It apparently slipped Mr. Miller's mind for a moment, too. Which was really unfortunate.

"Shit," I cursed softly when it finally dawned on me. "Our clothes are still out there!"