A Wicked Summer for Carnal Girls Ch. 02

The Sitter Needs a Ride

Joe Murphy went looking for Gloria.

He went into the kitchen, then looked down the hall.

He checked the master bedroom. Big red numerals on the digital clock glowed 9:22 P.M. He and Molly had come home earlier than planned and found the kids set up for a movie in the living room--snacks, blankets, the lights turned down low. Gloria was nowhere to be found.

Joe slipped into the garage.

A soft moan came from behind the donations meant for Goodwill. Joe crept closer to the tall stacks of cardboard boxes. For a big man he was light on his feet. He saw the boy first, his pants pushed down to around mid-thigh.

Gloria was on her knees at his feet. The boy had one of his hands wound into her long dark hair, guiding her head. Her blouse was open to her waist, exposing the straps of her bra, the soft white of her tummy. Her navel made a small shadow just above the thick buckle of her belt.

The soft moans came from the boy.

It made Joe unhappy to find a stranger in the house, but it pleased him to have caught her in the act. She was an attractive girl, maybe eighteen or nineteen. Mediterranean skin, a large hawk nose and thick eyebrows that somehow complemented her, even if they did dominate her face. When Joe met her at the social in Saint Barnaby's basement, he could tell she didn't think much of her looks, but that just gave her a shy accommodating sensibility that made her more appealing.

Gloria's eyes fluttered open.

Shock and fear registered on her face. Joe tried to keep his face neutral. He didn't want to appear too angry. To appear angry would be to get more involved than he already was, and Joe didn't need that. He also didn't want Gloria to register the slight fluttering he felt in his belly right now or the slow lazy roll of his cock as it swelled in his pants. He needed to get this boy out of his garage. Get Gloria back home to her aunt. Get his evening back.

Gloria's eyes were wide open now, staring right at Joe.

She moved her hands to the boy's thighs and tried to rise, to separate herself from him and the act she was performing on him. But the boy had other plans. He dropped his T-shirt, placed both hands on her head, drawing her even closer to himself. He grunted, bucked his hips forward once, and then held her head tight to his groin.

Gloria fidgeted on her knees, panic in her eyes.

She obviously wanted this boy but wasn't expecting that anyone would watch her satisfy him. Now Joe stood witness to her slutty behavior. He smiled at the irony--he met her in church. He knew her Aunt Louise--a popular woman with a strong choir voice--but he didn't know her well. At the start of summer, she'd volunteered Gloria for babysitting his ten and twelve year olds. Joe's kids didn't really need a sitter, but he got the sense that Gloria needed to prove something to her aunt, or vice versa, so he went along with the plan. In a small town like Carnal, you learned early on to accommodate your neighbor's needs.

Gloria looked at Joe one more time, but now it was as if she were looking right through him, as if he wasn't even there. She stopped trying to rise, let her weight fall back onto her knees. She lowered her eyelids. Pumped the boy's dick with her fist. The muscles in the boy's haunches tightened, even as Gloria allowed her shoulders to relax. Brows drawn together, she focused on the task at hand. Her throat muscles working, Joe heard gentle suckling noises as she used her mouth to satisfy the boy.

Joe's cock thickened in his pants. He waited for her to finish.

When her eyes fluttered open, she looked up first, to gauge the satisfaction of the boy. Her hands rested lightly now on his thighs. Her face was flushed.

"Hey--" Joe said.

He kept his voice low, with just a touch of menace. He wanted to scare the boy, but not let Molly catch any of this. She'd been against using Gloria. Wanted one of the kids on the block. Sometimes women can sense a troublemaker.

The boy jerked back, spinning his head and shoulders. His eyes met Joe's.

"Get the hell out of here," Joe hissed.

The boy fumbled with his pants, his wet erection. He was a young man, had a wide-eyed look. Maybe twenty or twenty-two. "Sorry, man," he muttered. "Sorry." These apologies were addressed to Joe.

Gloria remained on her knees, silent. Sullen.

Her boyfriend said nothing to her.

Joe pointed to the door that led outside with his chin. The young man ran off.

Gloria rose. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand then started buttoning her shirt. Joe walked past her and watched her friend disappear around the side of the house.

Shutting the door, Joe turned back to Gloria.

Her blouse buttoned, she looked at her feet, smoothing the fabric. Joe tipped her chin up with his fingertips. She twisted her head away from his touch. Refused to look in his eyes.

"Do you want Molly to know?" he asked. He kept his tone even. Gentle. Gloria might burst into tears and he didn't want that. "She'll tell Louise," he said.

"I don't care," she said, her voice sullen.

"You're wet," he told her. Joe offered her the bandanna from his back pocket.

There was something wet just above her sternum, something else sticky in her hair. He used the bandanna to dab at a damp spot on her cheek, averting his eyes from the shallow valley between her breasts.

"Wipe yourself," he said.

As she took the kerchief from Joe, her hand trembled, belying her youthful bluster. "You've got some in your hair, too," he said, trying to sound kind. Helpful.

The kids hollered from the other room.

Molly called.

Moving fast to intercept her, Joe stopped at the door. He turned back.

"Go wait in the car," he said.

Gloria used the mirror over the work bench to clean herself up. She glanced at Joe through it. "I'll get my keys and take you home," Joe said.

She nodded her head.

***

Gloria sat in the passenger seat, a sullen lump. She hadn't said two words since they began the drive to her aunt's house. With her tight jeans and boyish hips, she looked even more attractive to Joe, all pouty and grim. Pulling the car into the darkest part of the empty bank parking lot, Joe shut it down.

The engine ticked as it cooled.

Grinning at her, Joe got out and walked over to the ATM machine. Crickets chirped. The cool June air felt good on his arms. He was a real estate agent, a good one. Used to getting his way. In his belly he felt that same slight fluttering as when he first found Gloria in the garage. The image of her on her knees at the boy's feet popped into his mind. He'd seen fear, panic in her eyes. But then he'd noticed something else, something not so much in the frightened look that she gave him, or the way she surrendered to her circumstance, but in the way she then threw herself into satisfying the boy, working his cock with her hands and mouth. The way she ignored everything else.

He punched in his numbers, listened to the ATM hum.

She'd liked it. Liked being watched. Liked performing for a man. She was so young she probably didn't even realize it herself. Suddenly he decided to make another, much larger withdrawal--three hundred dollars. He worked the machine and grinned. He was going to give that pouty little kid another audition, another chance to perform.

Getting back into the car, Joe found Gloria smoking.

"You got another one of those?" he asked.

Gloria tapped a cigarette out of her pack and silently handed it to Joe. Lighting up, he exhaled smoke. He put the cigarette in his mouth. Fanned the cash in his hand.

"How much do I owe you?" he asked. He counted through the bills, passing them from one hand to the other.

"You don't have to pay me anything," she said.

"No, no--I want to," he said. He peeled off five twenties and handed them to her. She looked at the money, but didn't move.

"Take it," he said, waving the cash toward her. "You earned it."

She looked at him, looked at the money in his hand.

"You don't have to do anything," he said. "It's yours."

She reached out, took the money.

Joe folded the rest of the bills in half and stuffed them into his shirt pocket. He chuckled and said, "That was some show back there--you and your friend."

She blew cigarette smoke through her nose and laughed. Looked out the window.

"Funny?" he said.

She put the cigarette in her mouth. Folding the money in half, she lifted her bottom off the seat, and then slipped the folded bills into her front jean pocket.

"I watched you swallow it," Joe said. He watched her to see how she'd react to this kind of language. "You let him finish in your mouth."

She turned her head from him, looked out the window.

Flicking his cigarette out the window, Joe quickly put his hand on her knee. "Nothing to be ashamed of, honey. You're a good looking girl."

Joe could feel her bony knee under the tight denim.

"Slim hips," he said, his voice low. "Dark skin."

Leaning toward her, he moved his hand across the back of her seat. His upper body now in her personal space, he put his other hand on her knee.

"Tight little body," he whispered in her ear.

She turned her head and Joe could see a hesitant little half-smile. She enjoyed this praise for her body, but she kept her head mostly averted, her body very still.

She wanted to play it coy.

"Nothing wrong with a little sex." Joe's hand moved to her thigh. "A girl your age."

Joe glanced out the windows and into the mirrors to make sure they were alone. A light rain started to fall. Raindrops thumped the roof of the car. Moving his hand to the inside of her thigh, he returned his attention to her.

As he moved his hand to her crotch, she squirmed slightly, almost imperceptibly, in her seat. His fingers played across the intersection of thick seams and she drew in her breath. She was warm down there, maybe even a little moist.

Joe drew his hand back, then let his knuckles brush across her hip, the bare part of her waist where her blouse had drawn up.

"How'd it taste?" he whispered.

She looked at him sharply, trying to judge if he was fucking with her. Her lips parted. He could see her eyes hooded with lust and maybe even a little fear. Brushing his hand across her chest, he could just make out the nubs of her nipples with his thumb. She liked this--she burrowed down into the seat further, opening her legs. Joe put his hand on her pussy and lightly stroked her. It was moist. She moved her hips forward to meet his hand and then he drew it away. From somewhere down in her throat, she made a soft needy sound, a half whimper.

Sitting up, Joe checked all the windows and the mirrors again. They were fogging up.

She remained splayed out on the seat. Didn't move. Joe put his hand back on her thigh, and she looked up at him hungrily.

"How'd it taste?" he asked again, keeping his voice even.

She bit her lip, that needy look in her eye. Her cigarette had burned untouched in her hand and she flicked the long ash out the window, then changed her mind and tossed it all away. Rolled the window up. His fingers traced lazy circles on the inside of her thigh. She looked at him with that same look of resignation she wore in the garage.

"Salty," she said. "Hot."

Taking his hand, she guided it between her legs.

She smiled.

"I liked it." Her voice was a throaty whisper.

"She liked it," Joe repeated, delighted.

He began giving her what she wanted, massaging her. He cupped her crotch with his hand and shoved all four of his fingers down between her legs. She raised her bottom to meet his hand, falling into a gentle rocking motion.

"Is that why your parents sent you to live with your aunt?" Joe whispered. She placed her palms flat on the seat. Ground her hips.

"Because you like filling your belly with your boyfriend's cum?" he asked.

She had her shoulders back and her nipples were hard little nubs in the fabric of her blouse. Her mouth hung open, noisily taking in and expelling breath.

Joe stopped squeezing her pussy. Looked in her eyes.

"Or because he's black?"

He waited for his answer.

She closed her mouth, licked her lips.

"Black," she hissed, pressing her thighs together, trapping his fingers.

Joe snorted. Withdrew his hand.

"Both," she said, reaching for his hand.

Joe grinned, enjoying the urgency in her voice.

"Both," she said. "I can't help it."

He unbuttoned her pants, lowered her fly, and then ran his fingers under the elastic waist of her panties. Her skin was warm, her tummy rising and falling. He could just feel the edge of her pubic patch.

She bit her lip.

She'd been good. Willing, obedient.

Joe wedged his hand into her pants, under her panties. He could feel the soft down of her pubic mound, the slick wetness of her slit.

She began working her hips to get off on his hand.

"Has he fucked you?" he asked. "Put that big black cock in you?"

She immediately shook her head. Her lower lip was white where she had her teeth clamped down. Her blind obedience made his cock throb.

"Such a pretty little girl," he whispered. "So easy, so eager."

The cab of the car went eerily quiet, except for an occasional grunt from her exertion. Her eyes screwed shut, she remained intent on moving her hips to maximize her pleasure against his hand. Joe didn't try to penetrate her or do much of anything with his fingers other than to keep his hand in her pants.

Moving his lips near her ear, he watched her face. Waited. When he saw she was very close, he whispered: "Slutty. Little girl."

She bucked her hips into the air and then suddenly held herself very stiff and moaned, a low guttural sound that filled the car. Joe laughed softly, a series of breathy exhales. Cupping his hand over her slippery pussy, he watched her body tighten with what may very well have been her first orgasm ever--certainly her first orgasm riding the hand of a man twice her age.