Seducing the Older Gentleman

Seducing the Older Gentleman Seducing the Older Gentleman

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Sara is a good girl with naughty thoughts, especially of a certain older man...

Summary

Sara is a good girl with naughty thoughts, especially of a certain older man...

Content

Submitted: June 26, 2017

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Content

Submitted: June 26, 2017

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"A toast," Oliver announced, "to old friendships revisited!"

 

The three oldest adults at the table lifted their glasses so that they clinked one against the other. Beneath the pale light of the chandelier, the crystal ware sparkled. The white linen tablecloth had been set out, and the good china taken from the cabinet to pair with their most expensive silverware. It had been a long time since Sara had seen the dining room spread out in all of its splendor, but none of the decadence could keep her attention for long. The sight of the hunky guest seated across from her was far too distracting. 

 

The last time Sara had seen Harry, she'd been eight years old. Even then, he'd left an impression. Over the last decade, the shy little girl he'd charmed and entertained with stories of his travels had grown into a young woman. Sara had just celebrated her eighteenth birthday the week before his arrival, and for as much as she'd grown during the time they'd spend apart, Harry had grown, too. The tall, dark haired man she once knew looked wiser than ever. A twinkle of life in his eyes spoke of new experiences had and new sights seen. So far that evening he'd regaled them with tales of Africa, but the entire time he'd been speaking, all Sara could imagine was how stunning Harry would look amongst the African plains, shirt stripped off to expose his strong core glistening with sweat beneath the blistering heat of the sun. 

 

"It's a pleasure to be sitting here with you again, all three of you," Harry replied with quaint sincerity. "It's hard to imagine this much time has passed; it seemed like just yesterday I sat across from an eight year old Sara, and now look at her — a beautiful young woman at eighteen years old. Where has the time gone?" 

 

Harry looked every bit the researcher and world traveler he was. His hair was kept respectably short and a little old fashioned, but current enough that it nodded politely to the trends. It had started to turn silver towards the temples, belying his spry body and upbeat attitude. Likely somewhere in his forties, time was catching up with Harry in small ways, but he refused to allow those cracks to chip away at who he was as a person. Even though he was so much older than she was, Sara thought that he looked mature instead of aged. Certainly she found him handsome. Not overly muscular, but physically active enough that his body remained firm and lithe; Harry was a treat on the eyes. The cunning slope of his nose and the hard lines of his jaw further added to his natural allure. This was no high school boy with his head up his ass and uncultured — this was a man who deserved to be respected. Sara thought she'd like to know him much better than she already did. 

 

"It gets away from you when you're not looking," Oliver, her father, replied. As far as Sara knew, her father and Harry had been close friends since their days in college. Quite a lot of time had passed since then. Now both men were experienced, mature, and content with where they were in life. Oliver had settled down with an academic career and a family, but Harry had always stayed wild. 

 

"I bet you're regretting it now that Sara is grown," Harry said. "Fighting off all the young men pounding on your front door must take it out of you." 

 

The nomad cast his gaze at Sara for a lingering moment to return Sara's stare, and Sara's cheeks burned red with embarrassment and flattery. She knew she was pretty, but to hear it from a fully grown man unrelated by blood made the compliment all the more thrilling. 

 

"So far so good." Oliver lifted his fork with a grin. "Not a man has dared approach this house for fear of me. Sara has never had a boyfriend, or expressed much interest in boys. Have you, sweetheart?" The fork sank into a piece of broccoli seasoned with butter and black pepper. Sara's cheeks grew warmer yet. 

 

"No. No boys. I'm not interested in games and immaturity." 

 

As she spoke the words, Harry caught her eye. It was hard to tell from the short length of the glance, but Sara could have sworn that something less than innocent lurked in the depths of his startling blues. 

 

"The girl has good taste," he said. "At that age, boys have little of quality to offer. Relationships are much more fulfilling when they are approached from a place of maturity that young men simply cannot offer at eighteen." Harry looked from Oliver to Sara, fixing her with a pointed glance. This time she did not mistake the look he gave her — veiled lust. Oliver nor Mary, Sara's mother, had noticed it, and when Harry's gaze returned to his old friend, Sara began to doubt it had really happened. Perhaps she'd been projecting emotions onto him and imagining things that we're really there.

 

But maybe, just maybe, she wasn't. 

 

"Perhaps in a few years she'll find a man her age has matured enough for her tastes, and at that point I'll have to make sure these old joints are up for the challenge of fighting off young men," her father said. Harry simply grinned. 

 

"Well, count yourself blessed, Oliver. Had I a daughter, I'm not sure I could sit there so confidently. Sara is a true gem." 

 

Sara glanced down into her plate, partially embarrassed and partially too flattered to allow anyone at the table to see her grin. It wasn't appropriate. If her father saw how much Harry's words had affected her, he might begin to suspect that Sara did have an interest in the opposite sex. Boys had never interested her; that much was true. Men were a different story entirely. But Sara had never had a shot at one until that moment. 

 

They ate dinner at a leisurely pace. Harry and her father spoke of travels and of their work, of hobbies and of tragedies. When the last fork was laid upon the white tablecloth, Mary whisked the dishes away and brought out dessert. 

 

"Will you stay tonight with us, Harry?" Oliver asked. "Heaven knows we have the space, and it's been such a long time since we've seen one another that it would be a shame to cut things short so soon into the night."

 

Piece by piece on pristine white china plates trimmed with gold foil, chocolate cake was served. Sara watched Harry from across the table, trying to gauge his reaction to the invitation. Perhaps to tease her, perhaps to appear polite, the man kept his emotions guarded. What cogs turned in his mind she did not know. 

 

"You know," Harry said with some weight, "I've had a lovely time with you so far this evening. I'd love to take you up on your offer. Is there a spare bedroom that I may use, or will I be taking up residence on the couch?" 

 

Sara felt herself light up, and she tried to hold back her grin. A little more time with Harry was exactly what she wanted. The casual, flirtatious looks they shared across the table had stirred her blood and filled her gut with the warmth of arousal. Even if Harry wasn't serious, thinking about him in naughty ways was enough to get her riled. 

 

"There's a spare room for you." Mary seated herself at her place and dug the side of her fork into the chocolate cake on her plate. "I'll prepare it for you after dessert. You boys can settle in the living room and continue to chat."

 

"So generous of you. Thank you."

 

Dessert continued in placid silence. From time to time, Sara would look up from her cake to spy upon Harry. Most of the time he was engaged in conversation with her father, but from time to time, Harry’s eyes flicked up to gaze directly into hers. Each time their gazes locked, a chill shot down her spine. It wasn't just that older men were more mature and grounded, but that how young she was in comparison felt so naughty. The thought of a fully grown, experienced man pushing her down to claim her untouched, virgin body as his own had given her more than one overheated night beneath the sheets with nothing but her hand for company. Sara was young enough to easily be his daughter. How other men would whisper and point to see them together in public, envious of him and desirous of her. How many older men would fantasize about her once they knew she'd slept with one of their own? Sara shifted her weight as she sat at the table, her sex slick already. What a fantasy Harry was. And all in plain sight of her family. 

 

After dessert, Mary disappeared upstairs to fix one of the spare bedrooms, and Harry and Oliver disappeared into the living room to continue to talk and reminisce over old times. Sara passed the living room after seeing that the dishes were washed and spied upon the two of them on her way up the stairs. Harry was seated in a recliner facing the doorway, an easy, content expression on his face. When she passed by the doorway, his eyes flicked to her and his grin broadened, and then he looked away. 

 

Sara took to the stairs with her heart racing. A simple look was all that it took to speed her pulse up, and she knew that Harry knew as much. He was playing games with her now. What he had said at dinner had been meant to rile her. He was as attracted to her as she was to him. 

 

The upper floor of their house was spacious, boasting five bedrooms of which only two were regularly occupied. Her father had taken one of the bedrooms as his study. There, the walls were lined with books and academic papers, a desk littered with written works and ballpoint pens. The other two were for guests, but guests were few and far between. Harry would be the first one to stay with them overnight in just about as long as Sara could remember. 

 

Sara's bedroom was the very first at the top of the stairs, across from one of the spare bedrooms. She could hear her mother rooting around inside, changing the musty sheets and freshening up to prepare for a guest. Instead of offer to lend a hand, Sara ducked into her bedroom and closed the door behind her. Summer break before university meant no homework, but Sara had another kind of project to attend to. Instead of invest herself in books and papers, she invested herself in her appearance. 

 

At dinner she had dressed modestly, as her parents preferred her to. A white sleeveless blouse with a high collar was hidden beneath a dark turquoise lace blouse, her legs hidden beneath black slacks. None of that was going to cut it. Not tonight. Not for Harry. If he was going to flirt with her, she was going to flirt back. It was time to have a little fun. 

 

The back of her room was devoted to closet space. Sara parted the white slatted folding doors and observed the clothes she owned, all hung up before her. Prim and proper. Modest. Article by article, she discarded each piece. Nothing was going to cut it. 

 

She was going to have to try another approach. 

 

Sara removed her cardigan and top, revealing small breasts cradled in a simple white bra beneath. The pants came next, and she stooped over to pick them up and fold them, placing them in the hamper in her closet. A pair of white panties matched her bra, the back of it hugging the tight, round outlines of her ass. Sara was a slender girl, but she had enough curves where they counted. Many girls had bigger breasts than she did, but what she had was cute and just enough to have fun with. Instead of mature, she was girlish. Innocent. Pure. To Sara, her appearance added to the fantasy. The thought of giving her young body to an older man and letting him do with it what he pleased had her hot. 

 

Slender fingers saw the back clasp of her bra undone. Over one shoulder and then the other, Sara brushed the straps down until the cups parted from her perky breasts and left them bare. There would be no need for it with what she was wearing, not that her breasts were in need of much support, anyway.

 

From amongst her possessions, Sara chose a little summer nightie she often wore to bed. Made of a beautiful, light cotton, it fell high on her thighs to show off her slender legs and tease at the hidden treasures it barely concealed. The neckline plunged to reveal her cleavage in a dreamy sweetheart pattern, and thin spaghetti straps rode over her shoulders to expose the soft outline of her collarbone in full. It was the most revealing article of clothing she had, and although the white color lent it an angelic appearance, Sara was well aware of how seductive such innocence could be. Tonight, she hoped to play it up. 

 

Dressed, she turned back and forth in front of her full length mirror, assessing herself. Bare footed, bare legged, she was nymph like. Blonde hair fell in lazy ringlets down either shoulder, set perfectly. There was little else to touch up. All that was left to do was to make herself known, and then disappear for the night and take the memory of Harry's reaction with her. Tonight, she was going to cum to fantasies of him until she passed out from exhaustion. 

 

Sara padded from the room and headed downstairs. Each bare step on the carpeting left her more eager for what was to come, and it wasn't long at all until she'd made it down the stairs and lingered in the doorway to the living room. From where she stood, Harry faced her fully, but her father sat in a chair facing away from the door. If she knew him as she thought she did, Sara was sure he would not turn to face her. To her father, guests deserved all of his attention, and beyond that, often times his thoughts were so scattered he didn't think to pay attention to his family. It wasn't the first time he had dismissed Sara without much recognition. 

 

It wasn't long before Harry caught sight of her, eyes glancing quickly before returning to her father, and then doing a double take to look back at her for an extended period of time. Surprise widened his eyes just a little bit, enough for her to notice it from the doorway. Sara flashed him a warm smile and pressed her shoulder against the doorway, keeping her gaze on him. 

 

"Sorry to interrupt," she chimed after a long pause, letting Harry devour her body with his eyes. "I'm going to bed now. I thought I'd say goodnight before I tucked myself in so as not to be rude." 

 

For the first time since she could remember, Harry was speechless. Although he did his best to keep a straight face and look unaffected, she knew she'd crept beneath his skin. The man shifted his weight where he sat in an attempt to hide a budding erection. She'd hit him in the best of the worst ways. 

 

"Goodnight, sweetheart," her father replied without turning. He'd never see how his daughter taunted their guest with her body. How she played coy with a man close to three decades older. What a delicate little game it was. 

 

"Goodnight, Sara," Harry said. Although he did his best to mask it, Sara thought she could hear husk in his voice. Without listening for it specifically, she was sure she never would have noticed, and her father certainly thought nothing of it. Oliver continued where they had left off, discussing the value of geographical surveys in little charted areas of the world. Sara tuned out of the conversation quickly, but she did not lose focus on Harry. And, try as he might to engage her father with his eyes, he was having trouble keeping his gaze away from her. Sara was determined to give him something worth staring at.

 

As she propped herself up from the doorway, one of her hands brushed against the exposed skin of her thigh and ran upward slowly, lifting the bottom of her nightie against her hip to expose the creamy track of thigh beneath and the arch of her white panties. Although the center of her body remained covered, Harry was given his first peek at the fabric of her panties that covered her shaved mound. Sara had dropped her gaze innocently, and when she looked back up with a doe-like expression, Harry was visibly bothered — so much so that her father stopped his story midway through a sentence. 

 

"Are you alright?" he asked. Harry swallowed hard before he replied. 

 

"Yes. Sorry. My mind was elsewhere for a moment. Do me a favor, and let's restart from the last sentence." 

 

Sara's part was done. She'd tempted and teased, and now that she'd played with him and left him flustered, she would curl up in bed and play with her clit until she came to the thought of the man sitting just below her in the living room. The man who would sleep just across the hall from her. Bare feet padded back up the stairs, and Sara enclosed herself in her room just as her mother finished up in the guest bedroom. The timing was fortunate — no one but Harry had seen the state of her undress. 

 

The light switch flipped off, already undressed, Sara headed for her bed and curled up beneath her thick blankets. With gentle affection she slid her right and down her chest and along her stomach until she pulled forward the end of the nightie to leave her lower body uncovered. The same hand tucked itself beneath her panties and traveled over her soft, smooth mound. A single finger dipped between the lips of her sex, and she began to stroke her clit with tiny, teasing motions. 

 

Already wet from the flirting at dinner and the fantasies of Harry's body beneath the African sky, Sara's body was more than ready for her attention. The little nub she toyed with engorged quickly, and amplified pleasure swelled with in. Harry and the silver hairs around his temple — would the hairs elsewhere on his body be greying from early aging? She imagined his chest and stomach, and what they might look like speckled with silver. How magnificent an experienced cock might look nestled in a dark patch of pubic hair struck through with steel? The finger at her clit circled a little faster, and Sara lifted her hips just a little to grind against it in response. Tonight the fantasy was more real than ever. 

 

Long ago she had learned to mute her activities, so no gasps or moans tumbled from her lips. Instead, she buried her face against a pillow and fought to regulate her breathing. Playing with herself always left her forgetting to breathe, and as her heart raced and her lungs began to burn, Sara knew she had to calm down. If she came this early into the night, she'd waste the best material she'd ever have to a quick fix. Thoughts of Harry had to be savored. She had to let herself edge for as long as she could before succumbing to orgasm. 

 

A few minutes bled into tens of minutes, and then longer. Sara was no longer aware of time. From thought to thought she moved, one time imagining the texture of Harry's coarse bristles on her chin and cheeks as he kissed her, the next picturing how he'd look between her legs, his body suspended over his by the support of his palms on either side of her head. And then, how he'd have her kneel on the bed like the bad, naughty girl she was, but instead of lash her for her behavior, he'd teach her what bad girls really deserved. How he'd drive his thick cock into her pussy and breed her from behind like the slutty little animal she was. Young enough to be his daughter, and how he'd fuck her. The swell of orgasm loomed, and Sara had to find the strength to lift her finger from her clit. No. No, it wouldn't be yet. Not until she'd worked the thoughts to exhaustion. 

 

The night advanced without Sara realizing it. It wasn't until she heard the rumble of her father's snores from down the hall that she realized just how late it had become — she'd been touching herself this entire time, and not even once had she allowed herself to cum. When it finally did happen, it would be bliss unparalleled. Harry had worked her into a frenzy. 

 

Eyes that had been closed to better visualize the man sleeping across the hall opened to check the time on her digital clock on the bedside table. Just after midnight. What time had she finally gone to bed? Sara couldn't remember. With a sigh she turned her head to settle back onto her pillow, finger still lazily swirling against her clit, when she saw it. Sometime during the night her bedroom door had opened, and in the darkened door frame stood a figure. It was hard to make out details against the dark, but Sara knew who it was by instinct alone. A pulse of pleasure ran through her, and the finger that had been working her clit over stilled and then withdrew from inside of her panties. How long had Harry been watching her? 

 

"Why don't you come in and close the door?" she asked in a whisper. Every inch of her felt alive and invigorated, awoken from her ceaseless teasing and Harry's earlier flirtation. If he stepped through that doorway, Sara knew that there would be no going back. The invitation had been issued, and now it was up to Harry to give in to temptation and accept it. 

 

There was a long pause, and then the shadow in the doorway moved. It entered the room hesitantly, then pushed the door closed until it latched in the doorframe with a gentle click. Sara heard the lock turn, and knew that Harry had made his choice. 

 

The form crossed her bedroom floor until he stood at her bedside. This close, Sara could make out his features. A lean body with strong shoulders. The gorgeous cut of his face, more blocky in the darkness, but even more handsome for it. What she was wasn't enough — Sara craved to explore more of him. How would his mature cock feel when it filled her? How would it feel to lose her virginity to an old man? 

 

"You really have changed since the last time I saw you." The voice broke through the darkness, distinct despite its hushed tone. "You're not the shy little girl you used to be."

 

"No," Sara whispered back. "I'm not a girl anymore. I know what I want, and who I want... And tonight, I want you." 

 

The bed groaned as one of Harry's knees met the mattress. Sara's heart jumped into her throat. Was this really happening? She was having a hard time believing that the man she'd thought such dirty things about reciprocated her feelings. 

 

"Is it true what your father said?" Harry asked. The second knee met the mattress, and he crawled across the bed to straddle her. Him atop the covers with his knees on either side of her thighs, Sara beneath the covers trying to recover her breath, the darkness provided them with an anonymous shroud that made the upcoming union even hotter. This was her father's house, and Harry was her father's friend — and here he was, preparing to ravage his virgin daughter. "Are you really not interested in boys? Have you not been fucked before?"

 

 

The way the word left his lips made her shudder. Orgasm was so close that the utterance alone near pushed her over its edge. The kind man she'd known as a child had changed. Now his interest was in her body, and taking advantage of her. Sara was eager to give him everything he wanted. 

 

"Never," she whispered. "I'm a good girl. I think about my grades and my future, not boys. And certainly not grown men."

 

"Of course you don't," Harry murmured. His palms braced themselves on the mattress to either side of her head, and he lowered his face until their noses nearly brushed. Sara could smell him — aftershave and clove. The smell was not unpleasant, nor was it overpowering, but it was distinctly masculine and distinctly mature. No boy smelled like this, only a man could. "Just like you didn't lift that tiny dress of yours up to give your perverted family friend a view of that tight little body of yours. You're too good of a girl for that." 

 

The side of his nose brushed down the side of hers, and Sara closed her eyes. Harry's lips hovered above hers, just slightly brushing. The breath was caught in her throat, and although her lungs screamed for air, she could not breathe. Would not breathe. It felt like if she stirred the moment would disappear or that she would wake up from his dream. But the man that was on top of her was no figment of her imagination. Harry was real, and he was there for one purpose and one purpose only. 

 

"I'm a very good girl," she whispered against his lips. They were hard and a little dry, so different from her plump, youthful pinks. "I always do what I'm told, and daddy told me never to settle for boys." 

 

"And what about men?" 

 

But there was no time for her to reply. Harry's lips were upon hers, hungry. A gasp died in the back of Sara's throat in response to his voracious appetite — the passion was bruising, and their teeth clacked together and he laid claims on her mouth. The short bristles along his chin and jaw brushed against her, coarse and unmistakable. Sara had never even kissed a man before, but now that she'd started, she knew she never wanted to stop. 

 

One of Harry's hands, fingers calloused from time and travel, ran through her hair and clenched down to hold her in place. There would be no escape. As they kissed, his other hand lowered the blankets from her body, and knee by knee he allowed them to pass beneath him until they only covered her calves. Sara kicked them the rest of the way off, the cool air of her room even colder after so long spent touching herself beneath the blankets. Goosebumps raised across her skin. 

 

The kiss broke, and Harry's hand hardened its grip on her hair, holding her head firmly in place. 

 

"I can smell you," he uttered. There was a rasping quality to his voice that had not been there at dinner, and Sara knew she had drawn it out of him. "You've been touching yourself, you filthy little girl. No boy has ever had you because you've been too busy playing all alone. But all that's about to change." 

 

Every word he said struck her hard and left her desperate for more. Sara gasped and reached up, running a hand across the back of his head and drawing him down against her so they could kiss once more. She was greedy for his lips, and he indulged her. But lips weren't the only thing Harry was hungry for. His free hand met the exposed skin of her thigh and began to slide upward. The flat of his palm felt cool against her heated body, and soon Sara could not continue the kiss at all for how the sensation of it made her squirm and twist. 

 

"Harry," she breathed, lightheaded. The hand continued up until it reached the arch of her panties, and then his fingers followed the seam of the leg downward and inward. 

 

"What is it, little girl?" he asked her, voice gritty and playful. Sara made desperate little gasps. Harry's broad fingers traced inward and over the fabric covering her crotch. Then they dipped down further, putting just enough pressure so he could trace his finger between the valley of her lips. As the cotton met her sex, Sara could feel how drenched she had become. Slick fluids had soaked into the garment and coated her skin. At first it had been all her own doing, but she knew Harry had coaxed some of it from her with his words and his kiss. Her body needed him. 

 

"Oh my god," Sara breathed. He hadn't even undressed her yet, and she felt like she would cum. 

 

"Do you feel that, baby?" he asked. "That's what a naughty girl feels like. I'm going to have to punish you."

 

The fingers pushed a little harder, and the fabric gave way to let them press firmly against her skin. Harry let them trail up, and those same digits ran over her clit. Had her parents not been asleep just down the hall, Sara would have cried out. The touch was electric, and throbbing pleasure coursed through her like ripples across a pond. Harry was too good to be real. 

 

"But in order to stop your impure thoughts," he continued, "we're going to have to make sure that you use them all up. If we let them linger in that beautiful mind of yours, they'll only fester and grow. So we'll work them out of your system so they don't get any worse. Tell me — what are you thinking about right now?"

 

Saying the things she'd been feeling for so long felt wrong in the best of ways. Harry's fingers kept stroking, tracing short trails back and forth over her panties and across her clit. Sara could not escape the pleasure, and she writhed and pressed herself down against him like the slut he was turning her into. A silence bubbled between them, then burst. 

 

"I'm thinking about how wrong it is that I'm letting a man so much older than me defile my body," she whispered. "About how many attractive guys my age I could sleep with, but how I'm giving myself to someone so older. What everyone would think if they knew what disgusting things you were doing to me. How many more men will want me because they know I'm not above sleeping with someone older?" 

 

A low rumble rolled from the back of his throat, burdened with desire. Harry yanked at her hair, and Sara had to hold back a cry. The pain felt fantastic. 

 

 

"It looks like I've got a lot of work to do," he said. "It's about time I got to it." 

 

The hand that had been playing with her stopped in its travels and hooked into the cotton instead. With a firm yank Harry brought her panties down so that they stretched between her knees. 

 

"Take them off the rest of the way, naughty girl," he whispered to her, "and let me punish you like you deserve to be punished. Let me work those impure thoughts out of your mind." 

 

There was no choice but to obey. Sara squirmed beneath him, working her panties down her legs and to her ankles, where she stepped out of them. And as she did so, Harry took the time to undress above her. The shirt he wore crumpled on the ground, its material audibly pooling. A sharp zip signified the descent of his fly, and the mattress shook and groaned as he shifted his weight from one leg to another to remove them. The process was repeated for the underwear that lay beneath — Sara couldn't make out what kind it was. And when he was done, he took hold of her tiny nightie and lifted it up, across her stomach and chest until her breasts were bare, and then over her shoulders. Sara moved with him to ease the process, and the cold rush on her humid skin was worth it. Naked, she knew Harry's body was about to be hers. If only she could see the treasure he had for her between his legs. 

 

That was a gift she was going to have to discover on her own. 

 

With her body bare, Harry's hands moved up and over her stomach to her untouched breasts. Large, calloused hands gripped her firmly, and his broad thumbs brushed her nipples. All Sara could do was gasp, the sound timid and hushed. No one else in the house could know what they were doing. 

 

"Still little," he murmured, teasing her hardened nubs while she squirmed beneath him. "But just grown up enough." 

 

Gradually, each of his knees found its way between her thighs. The act felt so natural that Sara hardly felt it, and when it was done, the transition had been seamless. One moment Harry's body was suspended over hers, and the next their bodies were flush. Harry's thick flesh slid between her wet lips, coating his shaft with her secretions. Sara had never felt a cock before, and it felt far too big to be able to fit inside of her. Was this what all of them felt like, or was Harry huge? She had no idea how to tell. 

 

"I'm going to work all those naughty thoughts out of your head," Harry whispered to her, his hips starting to thrust as he worked his cock across her body, flirting with her entrance. Each movement brushed his shaft flush with her clit, and Sara clenched her jaw to avoid moaning in pleasure. This had to be quiet and discrete, but somehow it made it even better. 

 

Sara did not reply with words. Instead, she lifted her hips to invite him inside, and as she changed the angle, the head of his cock caught on the rim of her entrance and then, with a firm thrust, Harry was inside of her. 

 

Had she not been so wet and prepared, there was no doubt penetration would have hurt. Instead, it was nothing but bliss. Harry forced her open, filled her with his cock, and plunged deep without remorse. Virgin or not, he did not show her any sympathy. Sara had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out — he was huge, and he felt amazing. 

 

"How does it feel to finally take a man?" he asked between gritted teeth. A firm buck of his hips bottomed him out inside of her, and Sara groaned against her hand as she got used to the feeling. The bulbous tip of Harry's cock prodded a part of her she'd never felt before, something solid and shockingly arousing. Harry did not keep himself there for long — in moments he'd drawn back out only to thrust with increased passion. The impact hit her hard, and Sara choked back a gasp. It was all she could muster in response. 

 

"Such a bad, dirty girl," he breathed. Again and again his hips bucked into her, breeding her. Neither of them had bothered with protection, but it only made it hotter. Sara wanted his raw cock, wanted to know that her father's friend was fucking her hard and unprotected. The thought that his cum would drip from freshly used hole spurred her on further. From pure and untouched to filthy and used. Harry was making her into a slut, his slut, and it only made her hotter. 

 

"I'm so bad," she whispered back, voice hitched with pleasure. "Fuck it out to me. Fuck all this dirtiness out of me!" 

 

Harry's hands left her breasts and pinned her arms above her head. The speed with which he rocked his hips increased, and he struck time and time again against that spot inside of her. The force of their bodies meeting stimulated her clit, and Sara grinded down against him, maximizing whatever pleasure she could. The wet sounds of their bodies joining and parting had filled the room, their gasps and grunts of pleasure hushed. Orgasm was close, and Sara knew when she came, she was going to cum hard. Harry was her fantasy, and her body had already been pushed to its limits even before he'd entered the room. There was no way she could hold on. 

 

"Harry," she whimpered. "Harry, all of those thoughts... All of those thoughts are working their way out of me. I can feel it. I can feel it welling in my gut." 

 

And she could. The rush of heat through her groin was weighing her down and making everything feel that much more intense. Just a few more thrusts, just a few more, and...

 

"Work them out, little girl," Harry rasped. "Get them all out. Cum them out for me and tighten around my old cock. I want to feel you work every single one of them out." 

 

Sara's lips parted, but the cry that followed was silent. The first wave of orgasm hit, and her sex tightened and shuddered around the length of his cock. 

 

"One," he uttered. 

 

Another ripple ran through her as pleasure peaked and released, and her sex clamped down around him again. 

 

"Two," he whispered. "Get them all out, little girl. I want all of those thoughts out of your head." 

 

Again and again her pleasure peaked and her body tightened in response. Sara's fingers dug into the sheets as her body wracked itself with pleasure, and for each time she tightened, Harry counted out loud. 

 

"Seven," he rumbled, and as he did, Sara felt a different kind of pulse. It took a long moment for her to realize that it was not her body that made it, but his. Harry's cock was spilling its thick, warm cum into her womb and breeding her like the little whore she was. 

 

"Oh my god," Sara gasped. The words were so quiet they might as well not have been uttered at all. "You're cumming, you're..." 

 

"Punishment," he said at last. "Bad girls like you have to risk the possibility that their actions will have consequences that last forever. Everyone might get to find out just how dirty you really are when your womb swells up with the load I just gave you. Everyone will see that you've given in to sin. That you let a man have you and you didn't care enough to protect your own body against his seed."

 

Each word struck with latent potency, and Sara's lips rounded in a silent cry. A fresh surge of pleasure consumed her, and a wave stronger than the others squeezed itself around Harry's thick shaft. 

 

"Eight." He was breathless. "That's my good girl. Everything's out now. Now the healing can begin." 

 

As his erection flagged, Harry drew free of her with a slow, deliberate movement. One moment she was filled completed for the first time in her life, and the next she was alone and empty. Sara exhaled steadily, coming down from the high. The loneliness was terrible, but knowing why it was she felt so empty was invigorating like nothing else. 

 

"And how do I go about healing," she murmured, tossing the idea out casually, "if I still harbor those thoughts inside of me, even after what you've done?" 

 

Harry settled down on the mattress beside her and ran a hand along her side. The touch had lost some of its magic, but faint arousal twisted inside of her, promising that before long, she'd be hungry for more. 

 

"If we didn't get the idea by its roots," he said, "then we'll have to keep digging and pulling them free until nothing is left. There's no other solution." 

 

The words were exactly those she'd been eager to hear. Sara grinned into the darkness, shifting on the bed to cuddle up against the much older man beside her. It was her turn to run her hand down him, tracing from his chest down to his stomach until her fingertips left him just before the groin. There was no way a touch like that was innocent. 

 

"I see." 

 

The room, once cool, was now hot with both of their bodies. The scent of their sex hung on the air, and she knew it would cling to her sheets and in her pillows for days to come. 

 

"I guess you're going to have to stay here a while longer, then," Sara said after a short, reflective pause. "These thoughts have been building and festering for a long time, and one little extraction is never going to be enough to get rid of them for good." 

 

Harry scoffed, the sound muted for the sake of their privacy. 

 

"You really are a bad little girl, aren't you?" he asked. "Perhaps, even after I've worked this sin out of you, I'll have to come back from time to time to make sure that it stays gone. I don't feel like you can be trusted." 

 

Sara's grin grew, and she draped her arm over his side as she drew herself closer. Only moments ago they'd parted, but the slickness between her legs and the new heat growing low inside of her made her feel like she could go again. Harry's recovery would take a little more time, but as soon as he was ready... 

 

"I think we can arrange for that," she cooed. "My father is quite fond of you, you know. And even should he not be in the spirit to entertain a guest, I'm sure he would be thrilled if his little girl visited his best friend from time to time for some private tutelage." 

 

A loud snore from down the hall broke through their quiet conversation, and both of them paused to revel in it. They'd gotten away with it. They were golden. 

 

"Clever, dirty little girl," Harry praised her. "I'll have you as often as you want."

 

And Sara knew she was going to want him very, very often.


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