Abacus

"Abacus?"

"Yeah, I met this guy, and he promised to teach me how to use an abacus."

"And you went home with him so that he could pull out his abacus?"

"Yeah."

"Seriously, Chloe, sometimes i think you're retarded."

"It's not nice say the word 'retarded.' It's the 21st century, as you may have heard."

"Yes, it's the 21st century, which means you won't need to use an abacus."

I held the phone to Chloe's ear but spaced out for a bit while she argued with her older sister. Chloe was a college student from West Virginia, and she and her older sister were visiting New York so that the sister could check out a law school. Chloe had a cascade of red hair, the sort of frizzy, wooly, wild fire-engine red hair that would grab your attention. It had certainly grabbed mine.

"Listen, Chloe, I need to go back to the reception, but it should be ending soon. I'll meet you back at the hotel in an hour."

Chloe looked at me. I shook my head. I held the phone away from her freckled cheek and pressed mute.

"Tell her that you'll be tied up for a while but will call her when you're free."

I unmuted the phone and held it against her cheek. While Chloe explained herself, I sat back on my couch and surveyed the situation. Chloe sat next to me, topless. Given her hair, it wasn't surprising that her nipples were a pale pink and that her skin was alabaster, aside from the freckles that splattered across her nose, cheeks, and shoulders.

I held the phone for a few more moments until I heard the sister hang up. I'd held the phone for Chloe because her own hands were handcuffed behind her. She was still wearing her black jeans but was barefoot. She looked at me sincerely, trustingly. I leaned over and gently kissed the spare gold hoop that decorated her right nostril. She smiled.

We'd met online a couple weeks earlier. She had sought me out in anticipation of her trip to New York. In the course of our conversations, I'd learned what she wanted but was scared to look for in her small community. She'd sought a safe adventure with a man twice her age, a man whose name she didn't accurately know, a man who lived in a random loft in a dark part of the big city.

I unbuckled and recuffed her so that her hands were in front of her. These were cushioned bindings. I meant her no pain. But they were leather and serious and not bindings she'd be able to break.

I asked her to stand in front of me and take off the rest of her clothes while I videotaped her, using her phone. As we'd discussed, I intended to record details so that we could look at them. And, as we'd discussed, she'd then delete them.

I held up her iphone and pushed the button.

She took a breath and looked at me.

"Alan," Chloe said, stretching to her full height. At 5'2" and maybe 105 pounds, she looked glorious. "This is embarrassing."

I said nothing but just looked at her reddening face. After a few seconds, she unclicked her jeans and awkwardly pulled them down. Her plain white panties rode partially down her upper thigh, exposing a swath of trimmed bright red pubic hair.

"You're lovely," I said.

After pulling off the jeans and then the panties, she stood. I asked her to slowly turn. She did so. I clicked off the camera and approached her.

We kissed. We'd kissed earlier, but this felt more intimate and raw, though it was a little awkward with her hands cuffed between us.

We had arranged to meet at a bar next to the hotel where she and her sister were staying. I'd waited until her sister had gone for her law school visit, and Chloe had come down minutes later. As instructed, she wore casual college clothes rather than some sort of "dress up for Manhattan" outfit. We'd talked for a while. She'd been very nervous and hadn't been old enough to order a drink, so we'd taken a half-hour stroll through the village, bypassing weed-smoking NYU students and the occasional cop until we arrived at my apartment.

From our texts, I knew she was a sophomore at WVU, that her parents were teachers in a small town, that she was the youngest of three kids, and that she'd had one boyfriend.

I knew that she was curious about sexual submission.

I am not especially into dominance, but I do aim to please.

I asked her to take off my clothes.

I enjoyed watching her fumble with my buttons and buckles. It can be difficult to take off someone's clothes when you're nervous and inexperienced and handcuffed.

Naked and hard, I re-bound her hands behind her. The sounds were metal clicks. I don't tie knots.

I put a pillow down at my feet and asked her to kneel.

I pulled out her phone and pressed video.

I asked her to suck me. She kneeled onto those pillows. She leaned forward, staring at the hard cock in front of her.

"Chloe, what are you going to let me do with you?"

She looked up at me.

"Anything you want."

I turned off the phone and pressed my cock against her soft cheek.

As with the undressing, it was awkward. She didn't have access to her hands, and she was relatively inexperienced, but she licked and nibbled until finally getting leverage and allowing me access into her mouth, which allowed me to slowly fuck her face.

I didn't hold her head for a few minutes, so there was some wavering, but i finally grabbed the back of her head and sloshily did the to-and-fro. Mild gagging, but that wasn't my aim.

"I like the way you suck me, Chloe. For the rest of your life, no matter what happens, you'll be my blow job queen, my favorite, my sweet cocksucker."

She moaned into my cock.

When we'd chatted on the web site, she'd been hesitent to describe her boyfriend. She's a loyal person, which I admired. They'd met in high school and had dated since senior year. He was working on his family farm but hoped to take some college courses in the future. He seemed like a nice guy. They were engaged in a very unofficial sort of way, but she figured she'd marry him. She'd started fucking him towards the end of high school. Vanilla stuff. Blow jobs, missionary position, whatever. But his parents were very religious, and they wouldn't let him visit her in Morgantown, so their opportunities were limited.

She wasn't sure if she'd ever had an orgasm. I'd told her she'd know. She'd said she knew she'd feel guilty letting somebody else touch her but that she worried that she was missing out, that she'd get her teaching degree and get married and have babies and that she'd always wonder about lost chances.

I continued to fuck her sweet face.

I had no intention of cumming anytime soon, so I stepped away, pulled her to her feet, and asked her to wait.

A few minutes later, I walked her upstairs to my bedroom. She looked around at the candles that I'd lit as well as the straps that were attached to the corner of my wrought iron bed. I asked her to lie down on her back. She hesitated, as if mulling whether she was willing to actually go through with what we'd discussed.

She lay down, face up, and I buckled her onto the bed. Spread eagle. One leg angled slightly, as if that might protect her pussy from me. I put a blindfold on her.

I lay between her legs and got comfortable. I looked at her pink pussy lips. I knew she was wet and eager, that she wanted to be fucked, so I kissed her feet and calves and thighs, gently stroking her legs and butt and stomach.

I grazed her pussy with my fingers, very gently, and she tried to grind herself onto my hand.

I withdrew.

There is some advantage to being old and patient and knowing she wasn't going anywhere.

Moments later, I traced her pussy lips with my tongue. Her breathing became steady and deep. As her hips began to rhymically grind against my mouth, her breathing became ragged.

Chloe and her sister shared an apartment in Morgantown, and she said she'd often listened as her sister fucked in the next room. The sister liked experiences, liked guys, and from the sounds from her bedroom, often had orgasms. Her sister was especially appreciative, apparently, when men pounded her into submission, even after she'd claimed exhaustion.

After Chloe had cum into my mouth, after she had shrieked and lunged, and begged me to stop before she fell apart, I noticed that she'd gotten a series of texts on her cell phone. The last: "I'm waiting in the hotel room. Call me!"

Chloe, meanwhile, was blotched red, almost as red as her hair. I pulled off the mask and kissed her mouth. Her eyes and cheeks were wet.

"Well, Alan, I guess I'll know when I've had an orgasm."

We smiled into each other.

I knew other things she wanted.

I undid the cuffs and turned her over. I pulled up her hips so that she formed a very inviting V. I stroked her ass and grabbed those hips and slid into her.

The candles in my bedroom flickered over the scene.

Tight, wet. I quickly picked up the pace and began to say words I didn't mean, words that were adapted from words she'd been hearing from her sister through the apartment walls.

"Chloe Anne Macintyre," I said quietly, firmly. "I cannot believe you are letting some man fuck your sweet pussy."

She moaned.

"You should be saving yourself. You shouldn't be like your slut sister who fucks any man who says she's pretty. You're better than that."

She rammed back onto me, and her breath was uneven.

Back and forth.

"Maybe you're a slut too, maybe you're the one who needs discipline, needs punishment."

"No, sir, please don't."

I smacked her on her right ass cheek. Fiery red palm print.

"No, sir, please. Stop. I'll be a good girl."

I continued fucking her, of course, continued pounding that pale, sweet girl the way we had earlier agreed.

"Daddy," she said. "Please stop. I'll be good. I promise."

I knew that she didn't use birth control pills, that she and her boyfriend tried to time intercourse with her cycle, sometimes used condoms, often finished with blow jobs and, when she was in the mood, she'd occasionally let him sneak the head of his dick past the sphincter and let him cum in her ass. A ridiculous plan, I reminded myself as I steadily worked a well-lubed finger into her sweet asshole. i enjoyed feeling my cock as it slid smoothly nearby.

I glanced at her phone. I scanned her apps. I knew we needed to move things along.

I flipped her over. She looked at me. I slid in, missionary style. I pulled her legs over my shoulders.

I slid in and out.

She closed her eyes.

"Oh, daddy. I can't believe how big you are. I can't believe you're fucking your little girl. This is so bad. I feel so wicked."

I mulled this over. "Wicked" seemed a little strong, like something out of a romance novel. Of course, this whole fantasy thing was out of a romance novel. From what she'd told me, her actual dad was a good guy who'd never come anywhere close to violating her.

I slid a finger back into her well-lubed asshole. And then another.

"Oh, daddy, what are you doing? You're not supposed to put fingers in the back hole."

Okay, I thought to myself, if she keeps talking about mom and dad, I don't think I'm going to be able to finish.

While she continued to say something, I pulled out my cock and pressed firmly. I slopped more lube into the cracks. I popped through the tight sphincter and slid steadily, firmly, back and forth, until I was balls deep in the ass of some absurdly tight teen girl.

"Oh, my God, Alan, oh my God. I feel like you're splitting me in half. It feels so good."

Her words sounded good, as did the fucking. I felt her fingering herself while I pounded her asshole. I listened to her cum, again, while I gave her ass cheek one more slap.

Excellent sounds.

I didn't, however, like the sound of her phone buzzing. I had tentative plans to finish her off with my best repertoire, but time was not on my side, so I slid back and forth for a few more minutes.

I wanted to cum. I wanted her to cum some more. But I glanced at her phone and made an executive decision.

For the first time in my life, I moaned, groaned, and faked an orgasm.

She hugged me as I slid out of her.

I was still hard, still motivated, but I willed myself into self control.

"Chloe, we have a problem."

"Aside from the fact that I won't be able to walk tomorrow?"

I looked down at her smiling face, at her mottled skin, at the fiery red hair that seemed crazy and unbrushable. I smiled back. I felt love but wouldn't dare foist my insecurities onto such an impressionable youth. Plus, it was such unfocused "love" that it was only barely connected to the person named Chloe. Plus, we'd agreed this would be a one-night stand.

"Two questions, Chloe. By any chance, do you want your sister to see you like this?"

I looked down at her robust, vital, vulnerable nakedness.

She smiled, puzzled, draping her hand across her pussy. "Of course not."

"And you don't have some secret plan to seduce her into a three-way sexcapade?"

"God, no. I'd rather die."

"Okay, then. You need to get moving. Your sister is going to be here in a few minutes."