Hot Girls, … Sexy Babes and Asia beauty

http://juliapereks.blogspot.com/

Introduction:

Hannah gets herself a taste of her father's best friend and decides she needs much, much more.

A/N: I wrote this for women like me who are gettin' kinda sick of all the cliche man stories on here featuring the older man/younger woman thing. It has a bit of a long start to it, but it's a nice kind of build up, and hopefully it flows well and gets you off nice and easy. I'm thinking this will be a series but it took me a couple of months to put this together so it won't be a quick updating piece, just when I'm 'in the mood', I guess.

Constructive comments always welcome and no advertising your kik, or your email etc, in the reviews section. Also, positive votes show me that I've done a good job!

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Mum and dad had been friends with the Harris’ for five years before I had gotten myself into my little predicament. They had moved in next door when I was 12, just before I delved into the most awkward stage of puberty anyone could have fathomed. At the age of 17, I felt I had kind of levelled out, after five years of getting taller and wider and cinching at the waist, bursting out of my brand-new bras every few weeks. I honestly felt sorry for my mother – she could never keep up. My body was continually turning into that of a woman’s, and it was getting very obvious to the boys at school.

When I was younger, they used to make fun of me because my boobs were big for my age. They’d laugh and tell me I had ‘big jugs’, a term that made them laugh even more. By the time I was 15, however, they began to realise that their teasing had been a mistake, because I started blossoming into a pretty young lass. Not that I knew it at the time, considering I had the self-confidence of a teenage girl.

I never did sport or anything, but walking to and from school every day kept me nice and trim. I had a cute little belly, nice and soft, which melded into wide hips that made it possible to wear the slimming high-waisted shorts and jeans that were in fashion. Having a dedicated craving for crop-tops, I was pleased that I had the body to keep up to date with the current fashions. All through my early teens I was such a lame-o, wearing embarrassing slogan teeshirts and baggy jeans – hiding my body away in my school’s sports uniforms.

Being 17, however, seemed to change my life. I had lost my virginity at the start of the summer to a boy I thought I was in love with. Mum and dad had made me invite him over for dinner, and being casually relaxed parents, let him stay the night – so my lovely boyfriend and I rolled together between the sheets for the first time that night, fighting off the stickily hot Australian summer by ignoring it for our own source of heat. He dumped me two weeks later for a girl in the grade below us, and my heart was broken.

Now that I dressed like someone who fit-in, and had lost my virginity (the coolest thing to do at the time, because EVERYONE was talking about sex) I took it in mind to make the most of my summer before I started my final year of high school. My parents let me have a low-key birthday party with a few friends, and allowed us to drink our pre-mixes while they sat upstairs with some of their friends and watched over the party in the backyard. It really was just me and my girl friends getting … off fruity vodka drinks, but we had fun – singing along really loudly to our favourite bands and whispering about naughty stuff (like remember that time Rebecca Morton sucked Harlan Johansson’s dick in the boy’s bathroom? Gross, right?)

Anyway, I’m missing the entire point of my story! What I was getting at was, we had these neighbours – a married couple, around the same age as my mum and dad, who had basically become my second parents because they could never have kids of their own. They lived beside us in an old Queenslander, a funny old yellow house that wobbled on shitty concrete supports. They were really nice, especially the wife. Her name was Katelynn, Katie to everyone who mattered, and she was always so lovely to me – and when my dad took himself and mum away to the capital city for business, she kept an eye on me and the house for them.

Her husband was really nice too, and was always calling me sweetheart and made sure I was having a good time at school and everything. His name was Guy, and he was super polite and charming – and he and Dad got along really well. They both liked to talk about motorbikes and racecars, all that boring stuff that didn’t (and still doesn’t) appeal to me. He often came around on the weekends and had a few beers with dad to pass the time.

The night of my 17th birthday, at about 9 o’clock, I was absolutely trashed off my third drink. My girl friends and I were hanging out around the pool, too … to manage to put on our bathers, so we were just dipping our feet in in fear that skinny-dipping would rile up our mothers. The music was blaring from the darkness underneath the house, the adults upstairs listening to their own brand of party on the deck above.

I needed to pee really badly, so I had started to stumble into the downstairs area of my house – basically a second little unit for when relatives were staying. Kicking a toe on an abandoned patio chair, I cursed my way towards the stained-glass doors that were letting through a little bit of light. Rolling it across in its runner, I slipped inside and pulled the door shut – hearing the tail end of a splash and the flush of the … Guy appeared in the doorway a moment later, pulling up his fly before stopping dead when he saw me.

“Sorry love,” He told me, picking up his beer that he had left on the counter. “Your aunt’s usin’ the loo upstairs, so I had to sneak down to use this one. Didn’t think you and your friends would like it much if I relieved myself in the backyard.”

“I think we’re all a bit too … to notice, really.” I smiled at him as I leant against the counter, feeling my head spin from the lightness that came with being absolutely smashed. “Are you having fun?”

“I am!” He grinned at me, caught in a stalemate in the kitchenette. “Are you?”

“I am!” I mirrored him, watching him head towards the door. “Thank you for coming tonight, I’m sorry I’m not socialising with everyone its just—friends are here and everything.”

“We understand.” He laughed at me, grinning when the pitch of my voice wavered and lowered with each excited syllable. “I didn’t wanna hang out much with the old people when I was … You’re on your last year of school now, aren’t ya sweetheart?”

“Yeah, grade twelve now.” My head lolled a little and he let out another laugh at my sloppiness, taking a step forward to catch me just in case I fell over. “Pretty exciting!”

“Sure is. I can’t believe how old you’re gettin’. Feels like you were only this big yesterday.” He held his hand to an offensive height and savoured the way I rolled my eyes at him. “You’re gettin’ to be a charming young lady, aren’t you?” He joked.

“I’ve always been lovely.” I told him, slumping forward and snorting at my clumsiness, and he stuck out an arm to pull me up. He clicked his tongue and tugged up my shirt, which had slipped to show the top of bra – finding a double-edged sword when it hiked up and showed too much of my belly. He tugged it down again, probably a little tipsy himself, and sighed.

“What is it with you young girls and wearin’ next to nothin’?” He asked, pulling it up again before he realised what he was doing.

“I’m doing alright, thank you, Mr Harris.” I teased him, his charming smile picking up at the edges at my little dig at his age. “At least you can’t see half my arse tonight.”

“That’s true. Though, I’m sure your mum would strangle you before she let you out of the house lookin’ like that.” Guy grinned again, taking a swig of his beer before glancing down at me. “You still got that boy followin’ you around? Whats-his-name?”

“Kieran? No.” I sighed, weighed down by sad-feelings and … “I figured dad would’ve told you about him by now.”

“Wait—he ain’t the one who—?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah, shit, Hannah. I’m sorry.” He smiled, nudging my bare shoulder with his beer. “Teenage boys can be cruel. I would know,” Guy continued, taking my other shoulder with his spare hand. “I’ve been one.”

“Like fifty years ago, I bet.” I jabbed and he scoffed, tugging me under his arm to ruffle my hair. I huffed, having spent half-an-hour taming the brown curls into semi-straightness, and reached up to pull away.

Hugging Guy always felt really nice because he was a lot like my dad. He was a lot taller than dad, but was stocky and strong. He had a bit of a beer gut, like most guys his age, but it didn’t take away from him at all – it made him seem more manlier, like he kept himself in good shape but still knew how to wind-down. I always kind of figured that I’d like a boyfriend like my dad or Guy, but most of the boys at school were into their cut-up singlets and neon-coloured shorts – like the idea of masculinity had been washed away over the years. I wanted a man like dad or Guy because they made me feel safe, and I knew that if I ever got in trouble I could count on them to look after me if something ever went wrong.

My fingers tickled the back of his neck and Guy rested his forearm on my lower back, saving his beer from spilling onto the concrete beneath our feet. I smiled up at him gently before beaming like a … lunatic, giving him a tight squeeze. “You’re not that old, Mr Harris. Pretty old, but not THAT old.” He seemed to like the way I giggled, and he gripped my forearm to keep me steady. “Thank you for coming to my party.”

“My pleasure, sweetheart.” He gave my arm a nice squeeze and I pulled myself in a little closer, looking up at him and searching his face for any kind of discomfort. I liked the way he held me when he gave me hugs. The last time he gave me a hug that tight was when I failed my math class in tenth grade, and mum was angry with me because I hadn’t tried hard enough. Dad was in hiding, because mum was really strict about grades, so I slipped into the neighbour’s yard to get away from her bad mood.

The Harris’ didn’t mind me stopping around, as I had done it for so long, and I had thought that they were both still at work. All I wanted to do was hide on their back patio and sulk for a while, but it turned out that Guy had already finished work for the day and found me sobbing like a deranged loser. (“Now, darlin’, school is important, but one failed class ain’t gonna colour the rest of your life.” He told me, as I cried like a dumb baby into his work shirt. “You’re already a smart girl, don’t worry too much about it, hey?”)

I really liked how he looked after me like a dad, because my dad could be very distant when it came down to it. I’m sure it was not dad’s fault; I knew he could be quite thoughtful. He was a quiet kind of man, whereas Guy was more outgoing and a bit of a joker.

Pulling myself up to give him a quick kiss on the chin in thanks, the old man scoffed at me when I leant back. “You’re a very friendly little … aren’t ya?” He teased me and I rolled my eyes again, not wanting to pull away even though I felt him start to shift.

“Nooo, I’m just happy that you’re here. You’ve done so much for me and I’m so happy that you’re here. Thank you.”

“Oh darlin’, honestly—“ He must have started to get a little embarrassed at my cooing because he began to pull away. “It’s not a problem. You’re a good kid.”

I beamed at him and pushed up again, the shift of weight making him step backwards. I took in his face and caught his cautious look, obviously wondering about how weird it would be to be caught in this position with his neighbour’s 17 year old daughter, but I tightened my arm around the back of his neck and stood on my toes and caught him on the mouth. His lips were warm and wet, and tasted like beer.

“Thank you for coming.” I said again, barely pulling back and relishing the thrill that shot through me. I had always wanted to know what it would be like to kiss someone for a simple thank you. I had no romantic intention lurking behind my kiss, but he sort of froze and his hand fell from my bicep. My thighs squeezed together beyond my control and I pushed into him once more, back on the tips of my toes to kiss him again.

It was longer this time, and I carelessly licked the taste of beer from his lips as I felt his dead arm … around my back. The hand with the bottle slunk up the back of my shirt and the free hand wandered down my back, and the sparks in my lower tummy started up and I had no clue what I was doing – all I knew was that it felt awesome and I had never ever gotten a feeling like the one I got from kissing Guy.

He let out a noise that made the thrills inside me explode and he stepped me back towards the counter – and when my ass hit the melamine, I felt his hips press against my tummy. I felt his tongue swipe at mine and I shivered at the contact, sucking on his tongue gently with my naïve lips. He grinded on me because of that, probably more … than I had realised, and I felt something hard begin to press against my belly – another low groan breathed against my cheek as he thrust himself against my bare stomach. The rub of his denim jeans against the soft skin of my torso brought a tiny sigh from my busy mouth.

I wanted to crawl onto the counter to sit, so I could feel him grind between my thighs, but when my arm left his shoulders he pulled away from me.

Guy stared down at me, blatantly horrified at his apparently bad choices, and shook his head. “We shouldn’t have done that, Hannah.” He said plainly as he stumbled back a few feet, and I huffed, crawling onto the counter to sit in front of him. Sitting like the classy lady I was, I rested my elbows on my spread knees and stared up at him … “You don’t kiss your parent’s friends like that.” He told me.

“But it was good, right?” I grinned at him and his face fell.

“What would Katie think if she found out, sweetheart?” The excuse sounded weak but it made me feel instantly horrible.

My heart fell and my face must have as well, because he got a very sorry look on his face and took a long gulp of his beer. He finished the rest of it and pulled it from the stubby holder, taking his eyes from mine to read the label he had probably read a thousand times over. “Don’t worry,” He said, looking back over at me. The feeling returned in my lower tummy and my legs squeezed together instantly, and his eyes widened at my response. “I won’t tell her.” He stumbled over his words, “I won’t tell your mum or dad either. We just keep this between us, alright?”

I nodded, and he nodded, and left me there to feel kinda bad about myself. After I finished what I had originally set out to do, finding out that I was absolutely dripping and my undies were soaked, I headed back out to my friends until mum called me from the balcony. Katelynn and Guy were heading home for the night, surprisingly early, and I had to go say goodbye.

The exciting throbbing between my thighs flared up again and I halted all conversations with my friends to meet the couple at the bottom of the stairs. I gave Katie a big, … hug and a kiss on the cheek, just to make sure Guy knew I was being incredibly lovey with everyone, and turned to the man I had probably scarred for life. Giving him an un-suspiciously normal-lengthed hug and a quick kiss on the cheek, I thanked them both for coming, and watched them retreat down my driveway.

The next week or two, I went without spending any time with my father and Guy. Usually I would lurk around when they spent time in the shed, listening to their weird old music from the 70s, but I gracefully avoided them by spending most of my time in the air-conditioning playing on my computer. When I wasn’t holed up in my room like a prisoner of war, I was out with my friends, so I wasn’t really home long enough to think about what I had done for too long.

What I did know, however, is that I masturbated like crazy, considering I could see into the Harris’ kitchen from my bedroom window. Just being in such close proximity to my dirtiest secret was driving me nuts – thinking that maybe Guy would take a sneak look through my dark bedroom window to watch my toes curl whilst I thought about him rubbing his dick against me. Sometimes I thought about what it would be like to have him fuck me – but I had only experienced the touch of my ex-boyfriend’s, so my view of sex was rather boring and bland in comparison to the way that Guy made me feel.

Everyone always talked about how great sex was, but I hadn’t felt it yet, so I began to wonder if my friends were just lying to me when they bragged about how many orgasms they had with their boyfriends. The last time Kieran had fingered me, it was like he had lost a pick in his guitar and was trying real hard to get it back. I wondered what it would have felt like to have Guy’s fingers in me – apparently it felt really good when a guy touched your g-spot. I tried to recreate it with my own fingers, but I couldn’t get the right angle, so I just got frustrated and rubbed my clit to the thought of Guy coming over my house while my parents were out, and eating my pussy.

I’d seen porn, sure, and even though the girl’s eyes were glazed over with fake pleasure most of the time, I always managed to get off to a woman getting her pussy eaten. Watching them get fake-fucked and fake orgasm made me feel dirty, but since I had delved into older-man/younger-female porn, I had gained a penchant for watching the experienced mouth of a greying man tongue the clit of a sweet-faced girl. Seeing the soft hips held by big, strong hands and hearing the real moans of a woman enjoying herself while some old dude devoured her sweet pink pussy made me come harder than I had ever come before.

Some nights when I really felt naughty, I would imagine Guy crawling beneath my sheets and pulling my undies aside – wondering what his breath would be like on my tingling lips, dreaming about the first warm lick of his tasty tongue on my shivering pussy. I wanted to feel that, and I began to dream of ways to get it to happen.

Surely it was never going to happen with Guy. Every time I saw him, he looked incredibly blasé about everything, so I began to fantasize about hanging around pubs and clubs to get the attention of the … older men that stumbled out. I just wanted to feel some old cock in me, and every day without it made me a little bit more stir-crazy. There was only so much masturbation that could sate me – I wanted to feel it for real.

My friend invited me out to an all-ages gig at one of the local taverns on a Saturday night. I figured getting out of the house would save me from becoming such a weird-ass … so I said yes. Her name was Ainslee and she was a bit of a loose girl, and by the time we got there, she was already dancing with some beefy boy by the stage. The guy she was with looked like he only worked-out his upper body, and was stumbling around on these little twig legs that made me embarrassed for my friend and her choices.

The band was alright, but I was shy and nervous – the group of hormonal teenagers would have been fun for the Hannah that lived three weeks ago. Now that I had tasted the forbidden tongue of an older man, all I wanted was to be surrounded by older men who leered at me. I was beginning to get in THAT deep, like I had become some kind of pervert who needed a release. I began to sort of hate Guy, like he had spoilt me – like I could never get it on with a boy my age again because he had ruined by sexual desires. All I could ponder was what would it have felt like to have a man’s beard rub between my thighs.

I spotted an older man by the bar, probably having had his teenage years in the 90s or something. He was wearing an 18+ wristband, so I slunk towards him – trying to look older by straightening by back and squaring my shoulders.

“Buy me a drink?” I asked him sweetly, trying to purr but sounding very much my actual age. He looked down at me, grinned awkwardly, and shook his head.

“You’re a bit too young, sorry sweetheart.”

to be continued,,,,,,,, cek this site..http://sh.st/gvzUF