Laila is Raising Money for College Ch. 01

It's about 10 AM and the doorbell rings. Probably just a delivery, I'll get it in a minute.

But it rings again, so I leave my office at the back of the house to see who's at the door. As I come down the hallway I can see it's Laila, the 18 year old black girl from next door. (I know she's 18 because her birthday is exactly a month before mine, and we've been invited to some of her birthday parties, mostly when she was younger. They moved in when she was 10.) I also know that she went off to college in the fall, so it being mid-January I'm wondering why she's home.

"Well hello, Laila," I say as I open the door. "You must be on a long Winter Break."

"Hi, Mr. Mark. I actually should be back at school, but...I lost my scholarship." Then hurriedly, "So I'm out trying to raise money. Do you have any work I could do, like shovel your sidewalk or walk your dog?"

"I'm sorry, hon, when Billy saw it was snowing this morning I promised he could shovel the sidewalk and driveway when he gets home from school."

Billy's 12, and Laila has babysat him and his younger sister many times. And yes, I've had the dad-does-the-babysitter fantasy MANY times about her; but sadly, she never needed a ride home, we just had to (rather, got to, when it was my turn) watch her walk next door and get inside safely.

"And ol' Rex here doesn't like the cold much these days. But come in and I'll tell you how I got through school."

"Yes sir, I'd like that. Mom said you were the first in your family to go to college, just like I am."

So we sat in the formal living room at the front of the house, shades open, perfectly proper, and I told her how money was tight in my family (Dad was a steel-mill worker and Mom was a secretary) and how back then we didn't have the Hope scholarship, and how there weren't many non-sports scholarships for working-class white kids, so after what my parents could afford, I had to get creative with earning the balance.

As I was saying all this Laila was taking off her hat, gloves, and coat, because it was pretty warm in the house. She had on a knit long-sleeved turtleneck (the thin kind, I don't know what it's called, but thin stretchy, smooth material), and on top of that a V-neck t-shirt with her school's logo. Which gave me a good reason to look directly at her chest, and while I used to think she went braless in the summers just to tease me and the boys in the neighborhood.

But I guess this girl just didn't like to wear bras, because staring back at me was one of the most gorgeous mounds of woman-flesh I'd seen in a while, with just a hint of her large nipples making themselves known, even through both layers of fabric. (I know from the interracial porn I've watched, as well as, um, field observations, that many black women seem to have pretty large nipples, and Laila seems to also.)

I must've caught my breath or paused because Laila asked, "What were you saying about work-study, Mr. Mark?"

I should probably tell you more about Laila: you've heard the term "tits-on-a-stick"? That's Laila. I've observed with keen interest as she grew up, and by this past summer she had solid C-cups. Not necessarily round and firm C-cups, but the kind that are a bit saggy, but there's a lot of meat there, y'know? The kind with some movement to them. The kind where at the pool with her bikini tops cinched up tight, they spilled over the edges, but when the straps were looser you could see just how long they really were.

As a man I like ANY kind of breasts (don't say you don't!) but those kind particularly melt my knees. She's probably 5 foot 7, can't weigh over a buck-ten, long legs and short torso, and a cute little booty. Not big like many black girls, but bubbly like a hot white cheerleader might have, plus a bit more. She would be a 9 or 10, but her face is kind of plain; not ugly by any means, just not what you'd call pretty. But when she smiles she's prettier, so I like to make her smile.

"Oh, yes, work-study, that's a good option. I worked in the Biology lab a couple semesters and that paid pretty well, so ask the school about those opportunities."

As I'm saying this she's licking her lips, which do look pretty dry from the windy cold outside. Or is she teasing me, sending signals? I honestly don't think so, because she's never done anything like that before, at least that I've picked up on (though I can be pretty dense though, as my wife Ann has told me). But she IS 18 now, so maybe she's just been waiting... Over the years I've gotten the impression that Laila is a "good" girl, kissing and maybe petting with boyfriends, but likely saving herself for marriage. Her family goes to church every Sunday, so that's probably how she was raised.

I then confessed to Laila that working for money, especially while going to school is actually pretty hard, so I ended up selling myself to Uncle Sam in exchange for a full scholarship. She asked how that works and I said, "Let's go back here to the TV and I'll show you about ROTC. I went in the Air Force as an officer and it was the best decision I could've made at the time."

So we move to the family room (which you can't see from the front door) and I use Google on the smart TV to show her what college ROTC scholarships are about. The idea of going into the military doesn't really interest her though, so she finally tells me what she was planning to tell me if I'd said yes to shoveling the walk or walking the dog: that she and her mom had come up with the idea of working for people, but with half of the pay being for the work and half being a loan.

In her words, "So for example, if you'd normally pay someone $10 to shovel your sidewalk, then you'd pay me $10, but also $10 more, which would be a loan. I'd give you a receipt -- see, my mom bought me this receipt book -- and when I graduate college and get a good job I'll pay you back. That's a good plan, right?"

She's very excited about this, and actually has a pretty good sales pitch. She uses her hands a lot when she talks, and between the shaking of her arms and them bumping into her boobs I've got a bit of a hardon from watching her tits bounce. Which I hide by (hopefully) nonchalantly putting a throw-pillow in my lap. But was that the hint of a knowing smile I caught?

So here I am, a 45yo white guy, living in the suburbs with the wife, dog, and two kids, good white-collar job that lets me work from home several days a week, and I'm fantasizing about seeing this sweet young ebony teen who I've known since she was 10, naked. Not only seeing, but doing things to her naked body. Very naughty things, using my hands, my tongue, and this boner that's now full grown.

But she just seems so sweet and innocent, how would I, or even could I, convey any of that to her? I decide that she's not coming on to me, and if I say anything out of line to her she'll tell her mom, and maybe her step-dad, and then at the very least I'll lose some good neighbors. Those tits though...!

Finally I tell her she'll probably just have to get two or three jobs and work through the summer, then she'll be able to go back to school for at least next year. She says she has a 20-hour job at McDonald's (minimum wage), but that it's hard to find a job these days, let alone one that pays decently.

"A pretty young lady like you shouldn't have trouble getting a job if you find the right manager," putting just a little emphasis on the "man" in manager; enough to be deniable if she objects.

But she picks up on it, and with an impish grin she asks, "Do you really think so?"

"Oh yes, hon, you have a body that men, I mean, a lot of other men, would enjoy looking at." (Hoping she'd never seen my gaze lingering just a little too long the times I've been around her.)

"But I don't want to have sex with some old white man [that kinda hurt] just to get a minimum-wage job!"

"But Laila, you don't have to have sex with anyone to get a job, you just have to make them think there's the possibility of sex with you. Or even just that they might be able to touch you someday."

"Just touch me? You're crazy! They'll want to 'go all the way'."

"Trust me, sweetheart, you could sell just a look at you for as much as you're making in a day at McDonald's. But you're a good girl and you don't want to do that I know, so just let me tell you, as an 'older white man' myself, how --"

"I didn't mean you, silly!"

"I know, I was just teasing. So do this, go into the guest bathroom there, take that sweater off, but put the t-shirt back on."

With an excited "Okay!" she bounds off to the guest bathroom. What an ass in those tight jeans!

Laila comes back, breasts literally bouncing under her t-shirt (no bra, remember), with a huge smile on her face, and I just about pass out. This girl I've lusted after since she was 16 is in my family room in tight jeans, a t-shirt, no bra, and a coy smile on her face. And another indicator of her excitement: her big nipples are more erect than before and starting to strain against the fabric.

"Ahem, there now, see, you go and apply for a job looking like that, and any man is going to want to immediately hire you. He doesn't even know anything about you, but he's hoping he'll be able to get close to you someday." She blushes.

"Now I know you have sexier clothes at home than that old t-shirt, things that show off your -- uh, endowment -- better, but we can work with this. So, pull that shirt down tight and tuck it into your jeans."

I make a point of turning my head away while she does this, but am not-so-secretly watching her out the side of my eye. I think she notices, but plays along. She doesn't unbutton her pants to tuck the shirt in, and they're quite tight, so her luscious tits are putting on quite a jiggly show. "Okay, done!"

Turning back, "Oh wow, very good. Well then, let's move over to the kitchen table and pretend we're doing an interview."

Once seated, I tell her to lean forward with her hands clasped, elbows on the table, looking intent and interested. She does this, but it doesn't have quite the effect I'd wanted.

"Laila, move your chair as close to the table as possible, and when you put your arms together, kind of have your, um, you know, your chest in between them and above the edge of the table." Oh yes, like that, hon! I SO wish I could bury my face in that cleavage right now.

"Yes, that's great. Now look down. See that? Men go crazy for a view like that. I mean, non-married men." But I think you already know that, you little tease!

Role-playing a corporate manager now: "So tell me, Miss Jackson, why do you want to work here at the Simon & Simon law firm?"

"Well sir, I want to become a lawyer one day and I figured that experience here doing just about anything would help me toward that goal."

"That's good, hon, but let's play to his ego, get him to think that you might be willing to do other things while on the job." Laila makes a face.

"No, no, you don't have to promise or say you're willing, just plant the idea in his head. So, using what you just had, say something like, 'I want to become a well-respected lawyer like you, someone people really admire, so anything you could let me do here would allow me the opportunity to learn from you and your staff.' Say that, and make your voice a little sexy, but don't overdo it, just enough to make him wonder."

She does, and I almost cream my pants. I mean, I'm sitting across a table from this hot 18yo black babe who I've jacked off to more times than I can count, who has her delicious boobs on full display, and she's telling me in her slightly-sexy voice that she wants to do anything for me. If I'd have just touched my dick through my pants right then I would've come.

"Wow, that was perfect, Laila. Perfect! So do that the next time you go for a job interview and I'm sure you'll get hired."

"And set your sights higher too, don't go to a fast-food place, go to some nicer, professional places. In fact, I have a number of clients downtown, I'll give you some names and numbers, tell them I sent you." Laila is literally beaming now, so radiant, so eager, so young...

She jumps up, runs around the table (breasts bouncing, only somewhat constrained by her tight shirt), and hugs me around the neck, saying, "Thank you, Mr. Mark, I really appreciate you helping me like this!"

Her tits pressed against my back were too much (I could feel her nipples, for God's sake!) and pushed me over "that line." I was about to say she was welcome and to run on home now while I got that list together, but those nipples said, "No, Mark, what you want to do, what you need to do, is see these magnificent breast, maybe even suck on these thumb-sized nipples if you're lucky." I just had to see those titties, it felt like it was now or never!

"Laila, you know how I said that men would pay just to look at a girl like you?"

"You mean like web cams and stuff? Yeah, I know about those." Well there's a money-making idea for you I hadn't thought of, but I'm not going to mention it yet because I want you all to myself!

"Well, there's those of course, but there are...places...where men, some men, might sometimes go to see naked women."

"Oh?" Tilt of the head, quizzical look.

Standing up now, "So Laila, this little roleplay with you has gotten me really, um, excited..." and I nod down at the erection in my khakis. She looks down and a kind of "oh!" expression comes across her face, and did she just bite her bottom lip a little?!

"So I was thinking, before your leave, maybe I could pay you to let me -- to show me -- um," then blurting out, "I don't want to offend you, Laila, I respect you way too much, but could I just see -- just look at your... breasts for a few minutes? I won't touch you I swear, and if you felt uncomfortable you could stop."

A look of apprehension crosses her face. "No never mind, I'm sorry, what was I thinking.? PLEASE forget I said that!"

"Well...I don't see any harm in letting you just look at them, Mr. Mark. I mean, some of my boyfriends have seen them... But don't try anything funny like they do!"

"Oh I won't, I promise!"

"So how much does a man normally pay for that," she asks with a mischievous grin.

"Well, those places I was talking about, a man might spend $25 there to see a fully-naked girl, so if I was just looking at your breasts—"

"How does it work?" she asks.

"Well, you go into this private booth and put dollar bills into this machine and a panel slides back from behind this window and on the other side is a naked woman who will let you look at her and...you can talk to her and stuff."

"So you put $25 in, and then you get how long?"

"Well no, they put a dollar in for a certain amount of time, and, well you -- I mean, men -- those men keep putting dollars in until they're done." A quizzical look.

"Done looking at the woman, I meant. And I've heard that can be like 20 or 25 dollars' worth of time."

"Don't you mean until they're done masturbating, Mr. Mark?," spoken in a sweet little-girl voice that just about buckled my knees. But such language from my sweet next-door angel! My cock gets even harder, which I hadn't thought possible.

"Well yes, Laila, men do have certain...needs...but I think women do too, you know, so--"

"I want to do that with you, Mr. Mark!"

"Do what, hon?"

"Be the woman behind the window for you. And...watch you...you know..."

"Really, Laila?! Ohmygod, you don't know how much that would mean to me. You don't have to, you know..." But I really really really hope you do!

Then she's down to business (this girl has always been sharp): "So that would be $25 for the 'service', and $25 for the loan. Oh, and I guess I can't make the loan receipt out to 'got naked for Mr. Mark', so what if make it out to babysitting, would that work?"

"That would be perfect, dear, but I don't know how we could do--"

"Well I saw that your office back there has a glass door, so what if I hung a sheet over it, got naked behind it, and then when you're ready you could start sliding dollar bills under the door?"

"Perfect! You're very clever, aren't you? You're going to do well in college, once we get the finances figured out." And I'll be your biggest donor! "The boner donor" has a nice ring to it.

"That door even has a lock on it, so you can lock that just so you know you're safe." She looks at me like that wouldn't be necessary with me, but I say, "I wouldn't do anything in the world to hurt you or disrespect you, Laila, but when a man is excited by such a pretty young girl as you, well...it's better to be on the safe side."

She nods in sage agreement, which looks cute on her.

I quickly grab a sheet from the linen closet before she changes her mind, she goes into my office, and as she drapes the sheet over the door and closes it, I run upstairs to get the lube from my nightstand. And my wallet.

Just as I get back downstairs I hear Laila call out, "I'm ready, Mr. Mark!" I do a little happy dance while rubbing my cock a couple times through my pants. She's really going to do this! I'm gonna get to see those fluffy mocha titties and ohmygod, maybe that sweet 18yo pussy!

In my serious Dad voice, "Are you sure you want to go through with this, Laila? We can stop now and never mention it again. No hard feelings." Except my hard cock will feel pretty frustrated...

"No, I want to do it. To tell you the truth, I'm kind of excited about it." Yes, yes, YES! Don't come yet, dick, save up for it!

"Okay then, here's the first dollar..." as I slide it under the door.

"WAIT!" I cry, "Are you completely naked?"

"Yessir, Mr. Mark, just like you said!" Biting my knuckle so I don't come. The way she calls me "Mr. Mark", and "sir" just now, drives me wild. The things I could do with this obedient little minx, things she's probably never even dreamed of...

"Would you put your panties back on, and the t-shirt? I'd like to start from there. Then as I put more money under the door you undress more and....do other things."

"Yessir, you're the boss." Oh God, does this woman-child know what she's doing to me?!

30 seconds later the sheet comes down and there sits my sweet Laila in my office chair, smiling a bashful/embarrassed grin, in just her t-shirt and black panties. My eyes drink her in, the dancing brown eyes, the high cheekbones, the glossy black straight hair, the shy smile on those full, puckered lips, her breasts hanging heavily beneath the now-loose shirt, the tiniest glimpse of the black lace of her panties. And oh God, those incredibly long legs, colored a perfect mocha brown. And her feet, with the whiteness wrapping up around the bottom sides: I don't have a foot fetish, but her feet are so dainty and pretty, a toe-ring on the right middle toe, that I could jack off on them right now and be happy.

I tear my eyes away from her body to look back into her lustful brown eyes and in-character now say, "Well hello, young lady, I haven't seen YOU here before. You. Are. GORGEOUS!"

"Thank you, sir! I just started Monday. Do you really think I'm pretty?" Falling right into character.

"Pretty?! You're beautiful. How old are you?"

"I'm still a teenager, but mostly a woman, don't you think," as she crosses her arms below her breasts and pushes them up. "How old are you? Wait! I'm going to guess 36."