A Wet Girl

Ashley's full bottom lip became a stiff, straight line. "My boyfriend, oh I mean ex-boyfriend," she added bitterly, "dumped me." There was the tremble in the voice that went with the glaze of tears, "so I just decided to finish the semester online."

"Why did he dump you?" John knew he shouldn't ask but she'd revealed so much skin that it almost seemed natural that she should tell him all her secrets.

"Because he thinks I'm fat," Ashley only whispered that part.

"Bullshit," John blurted out. It was too late to take the word back but these kids nowadays swore like sailors so he was sure she'd heard worse.

"No, that's really why," she affirmed in a voice that was sharp and prickly, as if she needed to defend herself from another question about the boyfriend.

John let out something that sounded like a growl. What kind of a fucking idiot would say something like that to her? "I mean bullshit, you're not fat. You're stunning," he couldn't really stop there though. There were so many inappropriate words, a hot tamale, a siren, a fox, a fine piece of ass, a fucking beautiful woman and emphasis on the woman. "You are sensuous, I think is a good word for you," John gave her a smile that he felt fairly certain was an actual smile and patted her hand. "If he didn't appreciate how beautiful you are then he definitely wasn't the man for you."

"Well, he definitely appreciated Lisa," Ashley looked glumly at her only warm chocolate now. "She's a stick compared to me."

John leaned back in the kitchen chair. Marianne had starved herself after the first pregnancy. She'd skipped dinners and gave him half a sandwich until what had been fleshy and soft had become a cold bag of sticks. It had taken years to convince her that he wanted the bounce and uncontrollable jiggle back. "He was just a boy, my dear," John said positively as he nodded. John was a grown man and at one point a connoisseur of the voluptuous and the animal inside that had been hibernating all this time could think of nothing but what he'd like to do with all of those delicious bouncing bits. "He couldn't handle a woman like you."

Ashley bit her bottom lip, as if she wasn't sure if she should take that as a compliment. "You don't think I'm fat, Mr. Gregory?" she asked with a gulp. Her voice was just above a whisper and he thought she should be much closer when she talked like that. He should feel her breath on the back of his neck.

These girls, he wanted to throw his hands up, these ridiculous girls who didn't understand that they ran the world. "Absolutely not," he affirmed and crossed his arms over his chest to keep his hands busy. His hands had memorized the journey to the opening of the robe and itched to part it slowly. "You're perfect," he murmured in a voice that only Marianne would have recognized as the beginning of his lovemaking ritual.

The girl twisted in the chair and pushed her drenched black hair over one shoulder. When she finally allowed herself to smile at him, it was with a flutter of her thick lashes and there was the light in her eyes that suggested that under this innocent façade, she might have a little devil in her. "Not like I should care, right? I mean no boyfriend just means no sex and I don't think it's a big deal anyway." She swirled her cup to get the chocolate at the bottom and finished her beverage.

John couldn't hold back the dry chuckle. "Not a big deal?" It was the only big deal. "The only way that sex wouldn't be a big deal was if you weren't doing it properly," he sighed as his imagination went over the image. That body, that alabaster statue of female perfection and not a supplicant worthy of worship. What a complete waste. "I imagine at your age, you'd need to show the young men what you like because they don't have a clue." John laughed as he remembered himself, lanky and awkward and bumbling; all dick and no clue. He repeated himself, "not a clue, trust me. They need all the education they can get."

She gulped once more and John thought he would like to touch her throat and feel the movement. "What if you don't know what you like?" she asked, she sounded embarrassed.

It was also John's turn to be embarrassed now. There was absolutely no other way to say it though. "You mean, you don't make yourself," he scratched his head, nope, no other way to get through it but straight to the point. "You don't make yourself cum when you touch yourself?"

She shook her head a little and sounded wistful when she admitted, "I really don't think so. I would know if I did, right?"

This conversation had taken a turn that left him cornered. Dammit, he thought as he felt the frown furrowed on his face. If he weren't the harmless, old geezer from next door, she wouldn't be telling him her deepest, darkest secrets. She'd be worried about him taking advantage of her in that bathrobe, with the indelible image of her roundness from earlier stamped on his mind. Now he knew that her body was starving. She was blossoming like that, bursting with her juiciness and so very lovely and yet, starving for pleasure. "Well that's not right," was all he could manage to say in a voice that was far away. John was lost somewhere in a place of shadows, where a dark haired girl sighed and his fingers responded.

"Will you show me?" the wet girl asked with a nervous tremor in her voice, as if she was afraid that he'd say no.

John's heart pounded so loudly, the echo of it and the blood rushing with a sudden, hungry purpose made it too loud to be certain and all he could do was ask, "what?"

"Show me?" she almost begged in that little girl voice that really shouldn't be magical on his flesh. It should be wrong but the beast inside had been let out of his cage and he didn't give a good goddamn if it was wrong.

It was happening.

He took her hand. It was soft and delicate and her dainty fingers were curled in his wrinkled, heavy paw. John didn't take time to think. There was no time, there was nothing but this necessary thing that caused waves of heat and longing to run up and down his body. Something had unfurled. The heat was turned up between his legs and John couldn't stop it if he wanted to. Quickly, he brought her to the bedroom, the same place he'd been sleeping for forty years, night after night, curled up on the same side under the same afghan. He dropped Ashley's hand and walked to the nightstand where he turned the knob. She was illuminated in the warm glow. It wasn't bright or intrusive, but just enough so that she could see exactly what he was doing.

They both could.

"Stand here," he guided her to the place, in front of the full length mirror that was to the right of the foot of the bed. He looked up just to make sure that he was almost hidden entirely from the reflection. Good, that was perfect. Only his gray hair and his readers were visible and he had become nothing but a pair of eyes that would take in every movement.

Ashley, on the other hand, was front and center and when John untied the bathrobe, he could feel her take a deep breath. Perhaps she was nervous now. Perhaps the girl suddenly realized what she had asked and her mind might be whirling right now as she contemplated that he might not be so harmless after all.

John removed the robe slowly and watched as it fell open to reveal her see-through underwear. He pulled the sleeves from her arms and tossed it on the bed. He already knew that when he put it on again, the robe would burn on his skin. The fabric would hold the memory of Ashley and he'd never wear it again without feeling her skin on his body.

He let his fingertips wander down the perimeter of her bra. He gently followed it from her collarbones, along her décolletage. "Do you touch your breasts when you play with yourself?" John asked in a voice that should include his hand on his cock. He sounded dirty and depraved like he was jacking off to a girl on the phone.

"A little," she nodded as she blushed beautifully in the mirror.

He slipped his fingers down her round shoulders and followed the straps all the way to the middle of her back. John unhooked her bra and watched Ashley's pendulous breasts move with their new freedom. He peeled the nylon back from her milky, white skin and sighed contentedly as he bared her. He dropped the bra to the floor. How could she be so beautiful? His eyes took in the heavy, pale breasts with her dark pink, tipped nipples. They were two dots of strawberry on a scoop of vanilla ice cream. He smiled as he brought his fingers back to her nipples. Strawberry was one of the best flavors.

Ashley sank her head back as he traced two slow circles around both buds and he felt them crinkle under his touch. "No, darling," he told her in the deep, lustful voice, "watch me as I touch you. I want you to watch me touch you everywhere."

"Yes, Mr. Gregory," she whispered and nodded her obedience. He wasn't sure if it was the sight of her nipples becoming tiny, hard beads in his fingers as he barely scraped them with his nails; or if it was the fact that she still addressed him as Mister. Maybe it was both, but he felt it in his balls. They shifted and his cock rolled to one side, as if waking up and stretching after a long nap.

Her nipples responded to his hands. Ashley's whole body responded. The girl was ripe for plucking and she couldn't stop purring as she watched him knead and graze her hot points. "Your nipples definitely like to be played with," John whispered on her neck. He felt the drumroll of the girl's pulse on his mouth. He watched his tongue as it escaped his lips and licked her like she was a juicy bit of meat. The girl in his arms wiggled, her round hips wound in a circle against his pelvis.

When he closed his mouth and nibbled her throat with the tips of his teeth, she swallowed hard and pushed her marshmallow bottom back into his cock. That's when he felt it, a pulse, an undeniable movement. He held his breath as if he couldn't risk it, he couldn't breathe until he knew for certain. He watched the girl in the mirror and felt her tremble as he made heated little stones of her sensitive nipples and there it was. John growled as he felt his cock flutter in the front of his pants. It had been so long. It was almost forgotten but a rush of relief washed over him like a refreshing splash of cold water on a sweltering, hot day.

His dick worked.

He knew just what would confirm how well it worked too. "Take your panties down for me," John didn't ask her, didn't say please and didn't stop teasing her nipples. He told her, "I want to see how wet you are for me, Ashley." He said it to her reflection and studied her bare, bell-shaped breasts and how they moved when she shifted her hips.

Ashley put her small hands on the waistband. Her cheeks were pink and John loved that she bit her bottom lip again, hesitant, as if she could really stop this now. She was thinking that in just a few seconds she'd be naked with a man that was old enough to be her grandfather, hell, maybe even her great-grandfather. She'd asked him to show her but had she really known how far it would go until that minute? "Yes, Mr. Gregory," she said in a timid tone that made his balls draw up closer.

She pushed the soaking wet, white panties down her hips and they dropped in a puddle at her feet. Ashley moved them with her tiny toes, and this time, it was John's turn to make a sound that could only be an expression of ache.

She was bare. She was bare, without a bit of hair between her legs, bare like the pornography that he'd glimpsed at here and there over the years. Ashley was bare and her pussy lips were demure and the same milky, white color as the rest of her cool, marble body. Small and not quite parted, she had lovely petals that longed to be plucked. Innocent and virginal, tiny and girlish, now that John had seen her sweet perfection, he understood why she didn't know how to pleasure herself. He should feel guilty for this, he thought for a moment. No, guilt was a waste, he told himself. He watched as his right hand clasped her bare mound. She whinnied and shivered in his arms and he knew that she wanted it. God, no, he felt the heat rise in his hand, she needed it.

She was so soft there. Her flesh was hot velvet and he realized that she wasn't bare so much as she was covered in almost white down, like a newly picked peach. Once John clasped her mound in his right hand, he knew that he'd cum to this. He'd cum to her, the sight of her. He'd cum to the smell of her that rose from between her legs; something sweet and fruity mixed with musk and heat. He had to know, "do you use your hand or a toy to play with yourself?"

She couldn't keep still. The dark-haired beauty watched and wiggled in his palm, as if her body was begging for more in spite of her wishes. "Sometimes a toy, but," she panted, "I don't let myself," her eyes met his in the mirror and the passion there made his cock rise to meet her. "Cum," Ashley finished.

He kept his eyes locked on hers as he whispered a promise. "I'm not going to stop until you cum so hard you can't stand," John growled and watched as her thighs parted, as if to dare him to keep his word. Her slick, satin lips trembled as he began, slowly, with just his index finger on his right hand to trace up the curve of one lip and then down and around the other. Once he traced the center line, he felt her shiver. The girl in his arms was simultaneously freezing and on fire. John smiled at the sight of her goosebumps that had rushed down her body. She was so sensitive and he was so enchanted. As his left hand lazily meandered back and forth over her nipples, he parted her quivering lips with the other hand.

She was wet as rain and let out a squeak when his two fingers slithered through her petals and opened her up wide. Ashley looked up at the ceiling and he quickly corrected her. "No, darling, look in the mirror. Look at how perfectly made you are." His hard-on agreed with every word and unceremoniously poked against her back through his jeans now. "So pink and juicy and perfect," he murmured dreamily. "Oh baby," he whispered as he touched the dripping, almost hidden, inner lips. She was even hotter here. They watched together as he opened her darker pink inner lips and Ashley pushed her thighs together and rubbed herself in his hand. "Open up wide for me," he guided her as he stared like a deviant. Her voluminous thighs jiggled as she parted her legs once more and he felt as she held her breath. Her wild eyes were riveted onto his fingers.

Perfect, that's just what he wanted. She was slippery and his fingers began to make a sticky noise as he gently worked them back and forth. He ran them through her sensitive inner labia; from her creamy, little entry all the way to her still halfway hooded clitoris. She let her breath out in a cry of surprise when he kept two fingers there on the pink hood and rocked to and fro as he felt her clit swell inside. "Mr. Gregory," she still managed to be so formal when he was ravishing her luscious pussy, "that feels so good."

"Is this how you touch yourself Ashley?" he needed to know. John wanted the mental image of her masturbating for later.

She whimpered, "yes, but you do it so much better," and on the last word she gasped as they both watched the curtain draw back fully and her ripe clitoris appeared. Shining with her wetness, it was just one more delectable thing about her, John decided and if it weren't so filthy, he'd hang his tongue out while he stared.

"That's beautiful," he told her and watched as her clit pulsed under his fingers. It was the size and shape of a pearl and now that he'd gotten its attention, it grew and swelled and vibrated between his fingers. "You need this, don't you darling?" he asked but he knew the answer already. He knew that most women were aching for a man with patient fingers and were usually startled by how much they needed it once they received the proper attention.

She answered anyway. "God yes," Ashley said with a moan.

John kept up the tempo and the pressure and watched intently as the girl in the mirror began to fuck his hand back. She pumped her round hips and he could feel her voluptuous bottom sway and then push back to meet his throbbing dick as she lost herself in the pleasure of his hand. They were both almost hypnotized at the reflection. It wasn't until he felt her stiffen and heard the sound that came from her belly, the guttural moan of an animal that is nothing but instinct, that he realized that Ashley was going to cum in his hand.

"God," she cried out, she shuddered and pushed into his palm. Ashley rubbed herself on him as if she couldn't possibly have enough, as if he might stop and leave her on the brink. "God, yes," she cried out as she came undone and finally let go. John smiled to his reflection as he watched her orgasm drip down his fingers to the floor.

She'd be nothing more than a puddle when he was finished with her. That was if she allowed him to continue. He had to get closer though. "Good girl," he hissed as he knelt at her feet. He could see his cock flailing to get out of its confinement now. The outline was clear in the front of his pants. A younger man would have been in a hurry to pull it out. John, on the other hand, hadn't seen a hard dick in so long that he was afraid it would never happen again. He wanted to make it last even if that meant blue balls. "You need more, don't you?" he asked and watched her nod in agreement.

Ashley blushed everywhere. Her flesh was the softest shade of pink, almost the same color as her pussy and he grinned. She was beautiful and breathless and dripped with cum for for him. Who knew that he could make a teenage beauty queen climax like never before?

He still had it.

He watched intently as Ashley parted her legs even more for him. Her body made sure that he knew that he had permission for everything, anything. The girl had one finger in her mouth, she bit the tip just a bit, nervous perhaps. It might have been the sight of all that pale, jiggly flesh, open and on display. "You know who you look like?" he asked her while his fingers busied themselves up and down her thighs, making a pathway to the beautiful pink place that he craved. "Venus de Milo; do you know the statue?" John smiled as she dropped the finger and her mouth curled into a little smile.

"Yes, I do," she pushed her still damp black hair back over her shoulder, "she's beautiful."

"Oh darling, so are you," he said reverently, like a prayer. It was a prayer to the dripping place between her legs that was open and needy. Her clit was still engorged and almost red, her inner lips were splayed wide open and begged to be explored. It took all of his self control not to twirl her body around and lap up her milk with his tongue. He wanted to taste her, he was parched for her but he wanted to watch her squirt first. "So beautiful," he added as his right index finger dropped down, from her clitoris to her entry. "You should be worshipped and fucked like this every day," he said as he took his place behind her. He rested his chin on her cushiony bottom and took in the sight of her loveliness.

There was a little gasp as his finger slid inside. Ashley must not be used to feeling quite so full but John would change that. Once she opened for him, she sighed languidly, "oh Mr. Gregory."

"That's perfect, honey," John said to her reflection. His cock watched the sway of her breasts and her hips as they kept perfect time. "Now play with your nipples," this was going to be the hottest fucking thing he'd ever seen, John was sure of it. "Do it the way I showed you."

Ashley obeyed and cried out softly as her tiny digits followed what he had shown her. He watched as she made her buds hot, pink stones once again. She traced her fingertips in slow circles as she opened her legs wider for more. When he inserted his middle finger, there was no squeal this time, just a hum.