Aaron's Lolita

She grinned; she stepped closer, lifting his hand at the same moment; she licked the fleshy base of his thumb and Aaron groaned, staring at her as if she were some celestial being visiting him to inform him that the accident he'd just had ruined his brain.

She licked again, this time lifting his hand higher and starting at the slightly jutting bone at his wrist and making one long, wet, warm swipe with her tongue all the way up to the end of his middle finger. Aaron stared. She parted her pink lips, taking the tip of that finger into her mouth; she sucked. He wondered how long it would be before he felt himself hitting the floor.

He swallowed; she slid the finger in to the first knuckle.....making a soft murmur of approval....the second knuckle....rolling her tongue around his flesh.....then all the way in....and all the way out.....

The floor was coming....the floor was coming.....surely.

He never hit it. Instead, reality slapped him and her jerked away from her, leaving her in the corner looking bewildered and more desirable than before.

"Leila--"

She looked up at him, all pink and cream skin, innocence and fire. "Don't you want me to?"

Didn't he? Didn't he want her to suck...oh YES, he wanted. Needed. Ached. Was ready to beg for. Couldn't find his voice to save his life.

"Don't you want me to touch you?" she asked sweetly, reaching up with tender fingers to stroke the side of his throat. Flutter over his jaw.

Her skin was velvety. Against her touch he felt rough and very, very old.

She stepped closer. The first soft feel of her breath against his throat made him shudder. Her nose tentatively bumped his Adam's apple and he closed his eyes, breathing her in even while he knew he should step back. Step away.

"Your skin is so hot," she whispered, her lips brushing the side of his throat.

Aaron groaned. Her left hand was still on his face; her lips brushed his ear. Her every touch, every shift, every breath was sweetly awkward. He could feel her trembling.

"Are you?" she whispered, her breath a warm bath for his reeling senses. "Are you hot too?"

Her hip shifted, skimming his thigh. Aaron jumped.

"I am," she sighed.

Aaron tried to pry his tongue from the roof of his mouth. His cock was so hard he could feel the imprint of his zipper all along its length, but all he could squeeze past his vocal cords was her name, breathless and slightly broken.

"Leila--"

"I know you want me," she went on, ignoring his distress. "I know you've been watching me, Mister Wagner. Through the windows."

"Oh no," Aaron groaned miserably. He looked down into her face; she was smiling slightly, teasingly.

"Oh yes." Leila nodded. "How do you feel about blackmail?"

"Blackmail??"

Leila laughed softly before sliding both arms around his neck. "I was joking." Kissing the pulse at the side of his throat, she pushed her body against his.

Aaron backed up, but she only came along, now kissing up his throat, nipping his rough jaw and making him shudder.

"I...promise....I'll.....never do it....again," he rasped.

"Oh, yes you will. You like watching me. You get off on it."

Aaron curled his hands into fists, trying not to reach up; not to hold her. Leila's tongue was hot, wet and lightly rough behind his ear and her soft belly was pressing against his swollen cock. He was aroused, and ashamed of himself.

"Leila, please--"

"I know, I know. But you don't have to feel guilty," she answered. "I get off on it too."

His cock jumped and swelled; she curled her fingers up into the hair at his nape. Aaron found himself stuck between the wall and her soft body, everything in him throbbing for her; looking down into her lovely face.

"That first night," she confessed, her breath sweet on his chin and lips, "I had to run to the bathroom to play with myself. I was so excited. I knew you were watching me and..." she rotated her hips seductively against his. "...and....stroking yourself," she finished, blushing prettily. "Do you think I'm sexy Mister Wagner?"

He choked on the word 'yes' as it hissed through his vocal cords; his hands--completely of their own volition--were at her waist, clenching and unclenching in indecisive spasms.

Leila smiled. Lifted her chin.

Kissed his mouth.

"Do you want to fuck me?"

Fuck her???? Oh fuck YES. Hard. Deeply. Repeatedly. From behind. With her riding his cock. YES. FUCK HER!

Aaron closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath; unfortunately rather than steeling himself against her seduction, it drew her further inside him.

"Leila--" he gasped. "I can't--"

"I'll tell my daddy what you've been doing," she pushed. "I'll tell him you've been jerking off watching his little girl undress."

Aaron groaned. "Leila, have pity--"

She shook her head, a look of cunning and absolute desire on her features. "I want you. You want me. What's so hard about that?"

He shook his head. He couldn't do this. As much as he wanted to. Desperately wanted to...he couldn't. "No," he rasped. "It's....it's wrong. I can't do that to you. To your dad."

The moral stand he wanted to take didn't appear to dissuade her. Instead, she stroked his hair, his face, settling her warm body tighter against his.

"You can do it to me because I want you to," she murmured, rotating her hips again, rubbing his cock with her body through their clothes. "And as for my dad...." She raised one pretty brow. "Do you want to know where my dad is right now, Mister Wagner?"

Aaron frowned down at her.

"He's in a hotel," she whispered conspiratorially. "With his lover. Doing what I want to do with you." Leila curled her fingers in the slight gap between the top buttons of his shirt. "Do you want me to tell you, in detail, what I want to do with you?"

YES!!!!

"No. Leila...I'm married." He was running out of reasons not to. Or maybe he was just hoping that he was running out of them.

Leila smiled the kind of smile a woman displays when she knows some deep dark secret in your heart that she can use to get what she wants. Yeah, like the fact that you're a peeping Tom who watches sweet young girls through their bedroom windows. Aaron watched her, wanted her. Positively ached for her, cock and heart and all.

"Yeah," she murmured, unbuttoning the first button just under the hollow of his throat. "I know." She moved her head, her silky hair tickling his chin as she bent her lips to that little bit of skin she'd uncovered. Her lips a hairsbreadth from his body, she inhaled and shuddered, as if as affected as he. Then she kissed, and he slammed back against the wall, jarring the cabinet full of crystal and the grandfather clock the way she was jarring his last shred of resistance.

"Please," he hissed, not sure if he was asking her for more, or less. "Please...Leila. I'm married." It was the last hope; the holy grail of moral right; the cross and garlic and holy water to her vampiric seduction, and he held it up like a banner, closing his eyes and taking her upper arms in his hands as she unbuttoned the next button, and gathering that last bit of strength he needed to push her away....

Then she said it.

"You know," Leila whispered in that little girl-woman voice, "Where she is tonight?"

He stared at her, in mid shove.

Leila looked up at him, loving him in a way she'd never loved--or lusted after--anybody her own age, and felt sorry for him. But she was glad, too, that she was here, to break his fall. "You know who she's with?"

He stared.

Leila straightened, wrapped her arms around him; held him. Whispered about the secret she'd smiled earlier. "She's with Daddy."

Aaron thought maybe his chin was on the ground, but he could feel it right where it should be. That seemed odd. And he was in his living room, holding the siren of his erotic dreams....that was odd, too. But this....

"She's on business," he threw back. "Out of town."

Leila nodded, her eyes on her fingers as they went for the third button. "Yeah. Chicago. For three days. Last week, she worked late every night but Tuesday. So did Daddy. The week before that, it was Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Daddy had to go out of town on real business that Thursday and Friday." Releasing the third button, Leila bent and licked his skin there, making him groan. Or maybe it was the truth.

"It's okay," Leila whispered against his chest, kissing the edges of his collarbones. "I'll take good care of you, Mister Wagner."

His resolve broke. His hands on her upper arms, he hauled her away from him all of two inches, making her look up at him with an aroused, almost frightened look on her face, and then he jerked her back, making her gasp, and he kissed her.

Hard.

Moaning, she melted against him, her arms going up around his neck again, her soft, firm breasts pushing into his chest, her hips cushioning his hard cock through their clothes. He wrapped her in his arms, tilting his head, kissing her as if she were some experienced whore and not his innocent next-door-angel. He forgot, for a moment, that she was more child than woman. Opening her mouth, tasting her tongue, her teeth, the roof of her mouth, all while she moaned for him and gave, and opened and rubbed against him. She tasted like nothing he'd ever dreamed.

He gentled his touch, releasing her upper arms to cradle her face in his hands. He couldn't release her mouth; the taste of her, moaning, her tongue gracefully; delicately playing with his, was too rich. Too deep, dark, secretive. Succulent.

He softened his mouth on hers, seducing her as he slowed his pace, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs, all the pads of his fingertips slowly caressing her scalp.

She sighed and purred and moaned under his mouth as he taught her kissing--adult kissing--and swam in her taste and fucked her with his tongue. Somehow he turned them both until she was against the wall and he was pressing her. Between a cock and a hard place, as it were, although 'hard' definitely described the former as well as the latter.

Minutes passed. Hell, it might have been hours, while the only sounds were pleasured sighs and eager mouths. And when he could finally part from her they were both working for breath and he was looking down into the sweetest expression a woman had ever worn for him.

"Tell me to stop," he gasped, offering her an out.

Lelia shook her head. Eyes glowing and as soft and warm as candleflame, wet lips deliciously swollen from his mouth. "No."

He looked into the farthest depths of her eyes that he could reach and wanted to smile, but his cock was throbbing too painfully. "Say that again."

She whispered, "No," again, gasping when he reached for her wrist, jerking her away from the wall; toward the fireplace, where he stood her in front of it, facing the sofa.

"Don't move," he ordered, a feeling of incredible sexual power making him shudder to his toes as he moved to light the gas fireplace, backlighting her with a warm orange-red glow. Leaving her standing there, he went about the room, making sure that every bit of every window was covered with the heavy curtains his wife had chosen so carefully. Locking the front door and then the back, engaging the deadbolts on both, so that even if someone arrived unexpectedly, they could not enter without his allowing it.

He came down the hallway a second time that evening, this time knowing she was standing there, waiting for him.

Wanting him.

Coming back to the living room, he walked the perimeter of it, watching her, nearly growling at the tentative, almost timid looks she gave him from under her thick lashes. He poured himself another drink. Rounded the sofa. Sat, facing her, sipping.

"If you aren't sure about this, now is the time to say it," he told her plainly. She looked at him with an almost panicked expression as soon as she heard it. "Because in about five minutes, I'll be beyond letting you go."

At that, Leila smiled and relaxed, but only a little.

He gave her a minute, away from his body, from his influence. Finished his drink while he let her think. Finally, he put the empty glass on a side table and then stared into her face, showing her just how far gone he was already.

"You have to be sure," he repeated.

"I'm sure," she whispered, the sounds of the flames licking behind her almost louder than her words. "Please..."

He closed his eyes, resting his head back on the thickly padded sofa. "Say that again," he told her.

He heard her move; after half a second, felt her soft knee in its pretty stocking brush his knee. Felt her bend over him, her heat blanketing his senses. And then, sending electric shivers down his spine, heard her voice in his ear as her hands settled on his shoulders.

"Pretty please, Mister Wagner?"

He grabbed her, jerked her off balance, and onto his lap; she had to straddle him or fall over completely. Aaron held her tightly by the waist and she sat there, skirt hiding very little of her upper thighs, radiating heat from her core against his crotch, even inches away. He looked up into her face.

"Now...show me what you want, baby."

She looked dazed for an instant, then tilted her head a little and bent to kiss him. Experimentally, she ran her hot little tongue across his bottom lip, making him groan. She stroked his hair, his shoulders. Scooted closer until her sweet bottom was high on his lap and her cunt was separated from him only by a few thin layers of her panties and his trousers and briefs. She cooed and sighed and wriggled, all little-girl kinds of awkwardness making him harder, and hotter.

They were kissing again, this time with her pressing into him, taking his tongue into her mouth, sucking at it, making the wettest, most eager kissing sounds and moaning in the bargain. His hands stroked down her hips, to her ass, skimming over the soft material of her dress, then up her spine. Every touch he gave, she moved into like a cat craving the petting. Every kiss made her writhe against him and moan and he could feel the hard little peaks of her nipples tightening and pushing at his chest, where his shirt lay open already. He didn't know how long he'd last.

He took his hands from her and started on the last of his shirt buttons; without leaving his mouth she shoved his hands away and did it herself, biting at him with pretty pearl polished nails in her eagerness. She tore the last button off, popping it somewhere to the floor, before grabbing handfuls of the tail of his shirt and jerking it almost angrily, making little whining sounds into his mouth as she fought to get the thing out of his trousers.

Aaron lifted his hips, letting the fabric release from where he'd tucked it in so neatly this morning; she made a noise of triumph as she moved her hands to his shoulders to push it off; by moving a bit and shrugging first one shoulder than the other, he helped her dispose of it.

Her hands were all over his chest; her mouth was on his cheek, kissing...always, eagerly kissing....over to his ear. She nibbled. She sucked, making little noises that were hungry and impatient. Aaron let his head rest, arching his neck a little for her, and decided, despite his desire to rip her panties away and shove his cock up into wet, tight, young cunt, to allow her all the experimentation she liked. He stroked her hips, her back, reaching up for the tab of the zipper of her dress while she worked her mouth down the tense column of his throat. The damned tiny sliver of metal eluded him, slipping from his calloused fingertips three times before he claimed it; dragged it down fast with a long zzzzzzzzzzzzzzip to her waist. His fingers were rough against the silk of her spine and lower back; he found her shoulderblades and memorized them by fingertip. She arched her back and wriggled closer. Now, only a space that a breath could barely get through kept her cunt from his cock.

"Baby," he gasped, the vision of his wet dreams now sitting on his lap, sucking on the opposite earlobe. "Oh, my sweet baby..."

She gave both of his ears, and both sides of his throat, equal time with her luscious mouth. Then his shoulders, and his collarbones. He got the hem of the dress in his hands and, as she had been impatient with his shirt, he growled and tugged at her dress, tucked tightly between the backs of her thighs and the tops of his.

Leila pushed at his shoulders, sitting up astride him. Again they were face to face, looking almost helplessly at one another, with her face a little higher than his. Aaron was breathing hard, his chest moving deeply up and down; she traced her fingertips across his collarbones, watching the motion, licking her lips. Then she looked back at him. Then back at her fingers on his body, tickling them down to his nipples, brushing. Making him groan a little. Playful experimentation. Then down, over the line to his belly. Back and forth over the top of his waistband. He knew when her eyes dropped that she was looking at his cock, wildly straining against his trousers, making a large, hard bulge. She licked her lips again. She reached for him and he grabbed her hand.

"No!" he hissed.

She tilted her head in a sweet little gesture of confusion. "No?"

Aaron shook his head, her hand in his. "Baby, if you touch me, this will last about ten seconds. I'm old, remember?"

She laughed. Musically; magically. His 18 year old siren sitting astride his thighs, laughing, her breasts bouncing just slightly as she did, captivating him as he never imagined he could be. "Oh, please," she said in that typically teenage way of disbelief. "You're not even close to old yet. You're perfect."

She raised a brow playfully and winked at him, and Aaron grinned, feeling as young as she thought him to be. But that didn't change the reality of his anatomy and its age. She tried to touch him through his trousers with the other hand, and he snagged that one, too.

"I mean it," he warned.

She relaxed in his hold and reached up to wrap her arms around his neck; he released her wrists while she snuggled against his chest, whispering in his ear. "How many times do you think we can do this tonight?" she murmured, nibbling his earlobe. "Three?"

Aaron's hands clenched on her hips.

"Four?" She licked his throat.

Aaron jerked.

"Five?" She pushed her hips forward against his, settling her crotch against the bulge in his pants he wouldn't let her touch and Aaron moaned, grinding his teeth against the desire to cum.

"If it only lasts ten seconds," she whispered seductively, "that's okay with me. I'm planning on doing it to you again. All night."

"Oh sweet god," he hissed as she rotated her hips against him. "Please...baby, not like this."

She raised up on her knees, reaching between them to release his cock from his strained fly and take him into her hand. Then she made a sound of excitement he hoped was because he had the biggest cock she'd ever seen (hell, he hoped it was the only cock she'd ever seen) and started stroking him, between those silky stockinged thighs. She was sitting back, moving her hips unconsciously in the rhythm of her hand, her thighs open over his. She stared, clearly fascinated.

"You're so hard," she whispered in a sort of sexual awe, and moved her soft little hand so smoothly over him that he bucked up into her touch.

"Baby..." he whispered. "Oh, god...baby don't stop...please."

She looked at him and grinned so wickedly it made his nerve endings sing--or was that the way her fingertips teased at the head of his cock?--and when she looked down again, he followed her eyes, only to groan at the sight of his cock, thick and rigid and dark, against the soft pale perfection of her smooth hand. She used her other fingers to take the hem of her dress, and slide it up her thighs until he could see the wide, intricate lace at the top of her stockings, and then pale thighs, lightly dusted with adorable freckles he planned to lick right off her, and then...oh god...then....her panties. A tiny scrap of lace some designer had the good sense to sell to kids, heaven bless him. Aaron was breathing like a freight train and his balls, still crammed tight in his trousers, were swelling and aching like the devil.