Taking the Brat

There were times in George Wood's life when he felt as if he alone were the caretaker of the last vestiges of decency in the world, when the rest of humanity had finally relinquished its soul in the pursuit of its insatiable lust. As he gazed out at the last rays of sunlight streaking the fronds yellow and gold, at the beach house coming into silhouette before the sinking orange sphere of the sun, he tried to avoid peering into the rear-view at the activities just behind him.

It was all but impossible to ignore. Sissy's image rose in the glass as she straddled her latest lover, drawing his eyes as if she were on fire. She was a vision. Long dark hair streaming over her tanned shoulders, the side of her face contorted in lust as the young man's cock impaled her below his field of vision, she threw her head backwards and forward, screaming out her pleasure.

"Aaauuugggghhh! Fuck!"

'This one must be hitting some particular spot exceptionally well', George thought. Though, to be fair, Sissy was always very vocal. She loved for him to hear her, it seemed. Sometimes, sprawled naked or half-naked across the lounge seat afterwards, she would ask him if they had bothered him, with an impish grin on her face. He would always answer, "did what bother me, miss?" It was a game they played. She, the performer, and he the observer. She almost always demanded to know what he thought of what she was doing, as if seeking his absolution. He always deflected her questions, instead turning it back towards her.

"As long as you were satisfied, miss," he would say.

Sissy McDonough had the body of a ballerina. Small, tightly wound, her flesh flawless and her extremities lean, she was sensuous without the need of overblown breasts or a wide bottom. No; her ass was tight and her breasts, though they were small, sat high on her chest. Her nipples were always demanding of attention. Her face could only be described as adorable. George suspected, when she was forty years beyond her current twenty-three, she would still be cute, with her tiny turned-up nose, and the dimples in her rosy cheeks. Her eyes, as blue as a Montana sky, fairly sparkled when she looked at you. Only her manner of dress gave away her immaturity.

Sissy, who had inherited her parent's fortune when they were both killed in an airplane crash three years ago, enjoyed dressing and acting like a slut. There was no other word for it. Short, short skirts that hugged her narrow ass lovingly, usually paired with a cropped top that allowed a view of her under-boob, worn with heels that made George wonder how she could maintain her balance. Stripper shoes, with criss-cross straps or clear acrylic heels; impossibly high, sending only one message: this girl has no moral compass.

George had given up on worrying about Sissy's reputation in this town. She certainly didn't care; why should he? He once asked her if she were intent on mating with the entire male population of this fair-sized city? She'd scrunched her face up, thinking.

"If they all had big dicks, hell yeah!" she exclaimed, giggling at his obvious discomfort.

She spent her days playing tennis or golf with men, usually besting them at the game, or swimming in the pool and then sunning, naked, on the deck. Occasionally she invited girlfriends over, though she never went out clubbing with them at night. She was only interested in one thing, it seemed: to find an accommodating cock to fuck her senseless. The men never stayed over; in fact, most of them she fucked in the back of the limo, while George sat peering out into the dark, occasionally observing, as one might watch two animals mating, in the tiny frame of the rear-view mirror. She would send the men packing after, sometimes asking George to drive them home. She ignored them while updating her social media accounts on her phone.

This night, she was particularly rambunctious. Her lover, a young surfer type who probably assumed he'd hit the jackpot this time, fucked her in all sorts of positions, seemingly possessing a gift for not ejaculating. Sissy had numerous orgasms, one of them as she hung over the front seat, gasping and screaming into George's ear. Her hands scrabbled at his shoulders as he remained immobile, alert to any hint of displeasure or pain from his employer, and trying not to stare into her eyes as she climaxed in his mirror.

She certainly enjoyed her pleasure! Sissy seemed to want to share it with him in some way, probably a narcissistic attempt to show off for her chauffeur. 'As if I need to witness what she does on a daily basis,' George thought, once again.

Still, he worried for her, as a father might. At sixty-seven, he was old enough to be her grandfather. She had increasingly relied on him when it came time to make a decision over something, whether it be financial or personal. The only thing he couldn't convince her of, was to clean up her life.

"Oh my god, George," she huffed, laying back in the soft leather seat and staring at him in the mirror, "that guy had some dick on him!" The surfer had gone back to the beach where she picked him up, after begging her to go home with him. She told him she had a home, and that her bed was probably more comfortable than his; then she further degraded him by asking him if he lived in a van or something? Yet, she went on and on to George about his sexual prowess afterwards, detailing how he'd made her feel in any number of ways. George listened, as he felt a good chauffeur should, and asked if she was ready to go home for the night.

"Oh, hell yeah," she sighed. "I'm gonna sleep like a baby tonight!" He glanced in the mirror, and she was playing with herself, watching his eyes as she did.

"Hey, let's stop somewhere for a cold drink," she told him. "I'm dehydrated after all that!" She giggled once more, raising her hips to pull her skirt down over her hips as her eyes stayed riveted on his. "You know where my top is, George?"

He handed her the little half-shirt over his shoulder and she came forward on her knees to retrieve it from him, still watching him. "That's right," she said, "he threw it on your head." She giggled again, then hugged his shoulders lovingly.

"Actually, you did," George corrected her. "Right after you told him you bet you could beat him at horse-shoes." He paused. "He didn't seem that competitive, surprisingly," he added, his voice dead-pan.

Sissy played with George's hair, twirling it in between her fingers. "That's what I like about you, George. You can always find the humor in any situation, even if most people can't."

He felt her breath on his neck, and glanced once more into the mirror, just as she bent to kiss him behind his ear. His cock, which had been hard for the last hour, stirred in his slacks. She was watching.

"Hey, tell you what," she cooed as she dropped her arms over his shoulders, "let's both pop an energy drink. Then you can help me get my shirt on...or maybe you'd want to take it back off."

This was the first time that Miss McDonough had made an explicit remark directly focused on him, and George found himself blushing. Certainly, he'd fantasized about his young charge. Who wouldn't, witnessing her trysts with all those others? Her long hair, which she kept scrupulously washed and wore loose, was a black that fairly shimmered in the dim lights of the limo lounge. Her arms were tanned and smooth when she hung them over his shoulders, not an ounce of fat on her. He imagined her tiny breasts pressing into his back instead of the back of the seat, and could only fantasize about those hard little nipples that sat in the centers of her pink areola. Like the toppings on a luscious dessert. They were made for worshipping, but her treasures didn't end there. She kept herself smoothly waxed, and he knew from observing her that she was constantly aroused. Her lean thighs ended in slick, puffy pussy lips that were very welcoming, especially when they were lovingly enfolding a stiff cock. She made no secret of her love of "big fat dicks" as she liked to refer to them, grinning when she used those words around him.

George tried to avoid her eyes in the mirror, but she maintained her steady gaze on his, even when she licked his earlobe and he flinched.

"So, what's it to be, miss? A soft drink, then, or something else?"

Sissy bent her head and stuck her tongue in his ear, teasing the hairs there. She didn't mind the hair; she loved everything about him, from his subtle cologne to his ability to ignore her and drive. Even when she was still horny! She giggled again.

"Let's get ice cream sundaes and snuggle back here," she teased. "I'll let you put ice cream wherever you want, and you can eat it aaaall up."

"I'll find a Dairy Queen or something, then," he deadpanned. 'This little bitch is gonna make me cum in my slacks one of these times,' he thought, taking slow deep breaths to control himself. He felt himself twitch again, and wondered if she noticed. His cock felt like a steel rod right now! He dared not let himself imagine her impaled on it, having sworn to her father he would always protect her, should he pass on. 'Well, he'd be surprised to see her now,' he told himself.

Sissy McDonough's father had been a good man and a good employer, and George was completely dedicated to him. Her mother was a little cold, and sometimes seemed as if she never wanted a child, but Craig McDonough doted on his daughter. Nothing was too expensive or too difficult to find when it came to Sissy, as everyone called her. Her given name was Cecilia, but only her mother called her that after her fourth birthday. She was Sissy as long as George had known her, which was nearing twenty years now.

High school was something every kid put up with. College had only bored her, though she earned good grades. When her parents died she dropped out, eleven credits short of an A.S. in Creative Writing. He'd read the poetry she wrote; it could be extremely evocative, but she viewed everything like a teenager. She was always scribbling lines, but the effort she put into finding men to have sex with seemed to capitalize most of her time, lately.

Sissy suddenly slumped back in the wraparound seat, groping for a pen in her purse.

"You know what?" she asked rhetorically. George waited.

"If I could put a name to all the cocks in the world, I'd really only have to use one word." She paused, writing something down in her journal. "What do you think of 'paradisaical' as a definition?"

George cleared his throat before replying, "Well, that's a pretty subjective term, miss, but if that's what you think, then certainly."

Sissy burst into laughter. "Well, I didn't necessarily think you'd use it," she teased, "I just thought of a line that seemed to fit that term. Try this: '...in the dangerous heat of your paradisaical coupling.' What do you think of that?"

"Another Pulitzer-worthy effort, I'm sure."

That made her laugh again, even harder. She wrote a bit more, then put her journal away and leaned back once more, looking out through the moonroof at the stars as they slid beneath them.

"They're too cold to touch," she said wistfully.

They got hot fudge sundaes, and she joined him in the front, leaning against the passenger door as she sat with one foot up on the console, watching him as they ate.

"I wasn't kidding," she said, looking up at him through long eyelashes. "If you wanted, we could break the employer/employee relationship for a little while."

"I'm not sure your father would have sanctioned that," George told the girl, though he had imagined it more than once. Her legs were wide apart, the surfer's cum visible on the crotch of her panties. Her pussy was plump and red, leaking copiously. It was difficult to keep his eyes averted.

She leaned towards him, her luscious young breasts pressing against the front of her top. "Well, he's no longer here," she teased. She used her spoon to wipe fudge across the end of his nose, then moved to lick it off.

George flinched and tried to turn his face away, but Sissy was impetuous, and too quick for him. He felt her tongue swipe across his nose as her hand went to his crotch to steady herself. "Please, miss," he said, even as he felt himself harden under her grasping hand.

"Whoa!" His erection was not missed by Sissy. "That's some package you're hiding under there," she enthused, wrapping her fingers around his cock through the thin slacks. It was too thick for her fingers to get around. George used his own hand to pull hers away as he turned to stare balefully into her eyes.

"Stop it," he urged her, as if speaking to a child. "You're being a bad girl, and I don't want to have to..." He hesitated, knowing whatever he said would be seen as enticing by her. Besides, she was twenty-three years old! It wasn't like he could spank her.

Sissy seized upon it, anyway. "You don't want to have to do... what?" She set her sundae in the cup holder at her door and half-climbed over the console to snuggle against him. "Were you gonna spank me, George? Huh?" Her hand slid between the buttons on his shirt and popped two of them loose as she ran it over his chest. Another surprise.

"Hey! You never told me you worked out," she whispered, grasping his left pectoral in her fist. It was as hard as stone.

"Mmmmm, I bet you could do some damage to a little thing like me with this body," she purred, zeroing in on the hard nipple that sat atop his mountainous pec. She pinched it with her little fingers, using her nails to bite into the skin.

George sat ramrod straight, trying to ignore her, but it was becoming impossible. His cock throbbed again, threatening to burst through his boxer shorts. He could feel the blood pumping through it as it lay against his thigh, still resonating from her stroking.

"I should take you home," he told her, "but it's going to be difficult to drive with you doing that." He waited.

Sissy soon bored of caressing his chest, although her libido was once again flaring. As she pulled her hand from his shirt she imagined him crushing against her, her full breasts squishing against those hard pectorals. She imagined his belly against hers, his cock impressing itself against her inner thighs. She couldn't suppress a moan.

"Yeah, take me home," she breathed, reclining against the door again. Appraising him as he buttoned his shirt and put the car in gear. She was going to fuck him tonight, she told herself. It was time to taste the charms of an older man. The surfer already forgotten, she allowed herself to fantasize what it might be like.

As he pulled the limo into the garage, George's mind was also ablaze with conflicting thoughts. He should not. He'd promised... what? To keep her safe. There was never any discussion of anything else. Even when she was twenty and more than just attractive, she was still daddy's little girl. Her father idolized her, and she seemed fine with being the overachiever, both athletically and scholastically. It was only after her parents' death that she reversed course.

'Maybe she deserves a good fucking from someone who knows his way around a slut,' he mused, then smiled to himself. It was the first time he'd allowed himself to call her that in his mind. Well, she was...

He moved around the car to open her door, as expected, but Sissy was already bounding out, holding out her hand to him. "Let's go get in the pool," she said, and winked. "It's a great night for a swim. Come join me."

It was, indeed, a gorgeous night. The heavens seemed to have unloaded their bushels of stars and scattered them across the sky, just for them. As they exited the side garage door onto the pool deck, her tugging him eagerly forward, George glanced up and caught sight of a shooting star. 'Maybe it's a sign,' he mused.

Sissy was already stripping out of the top, revealing the fullness of her breasts to the moonlight. "C'mon," she urged, pausing to look at him. As her hand went to her side zipper, her heart quickened to see George reach for the buttons on his shirt.

"That's it," she said, dropping the skirt to stand in just her sheer panties. The cold light of the moon only seemed to augment the lushness of her body, silhouetting her against the cool blue water of the pool.

"I'm not sure I should be doing this," George told her, even as he pulled the tails of his shirt from his pants. His resistance was only token, however, as he studied her. She'd grown into such a woman! His hard-on pressed insistently against his slacks, begging for release. He saw her staring at it.

Sissy couldn't contain herself any longer. "Holy shit, you look amazing," she breathed as she strode over to the chauffeur, now revealed to her as a god-like man, his chest as hard as iron, his abs flat and compact. He was old, sure, she thought, but he was in remarkable shape for a sixty-something man.

'And that big ol' dick!'

She could tell it was no boy's cock; this was a cock that had taken many a woman on a pleasurable ride. As he released his belt and unzipped, she imagined it as a bull breaking from a chute, rearing its mighty head as it made a bee-line for her. Her hand went to George's slacks, yanking them downward as she fell to her knees before him. It was tenting his boxers out; she looked up at its shape, outlined against the stars and his face, far above her. She could sense its power and strength. 'If he works this muscle out as hard as he does the rest...' she thought, and reached for the waistband of his shorts.

When it sprung out it was everything she imagined it would be. Thick, muscular, pumping volumes of blood through those massive veins. She wanted it in her mouth even before she imagined it inside her pussy, so she could feel it throbbing with need. For her!

George had given in to his own lust before they even hit the pool deck. If she wanted to be fucked, he thought, he'd show her fucking! She was no longer his employer; she was, in his mind, soon to be his personal fuck-toy. As he watched the girl prepare to take him in her mouth, he could smell her arousal. He struggled to kick his shoes off, leaving the socks on as he stepped out of his discarded clothing.

Sissy waited, his cock in her tiny hand, to savor him. She wanted this time to be more than some mindless coupling; she wanted to make him fall in love with her. She'd known him all her life, but never like this. Looking up, she saw him standing over her, his feet apart, hands on his hips. A look on his face she'd never seen. As she engulfed him between her lips, his hand came to her head and covered it, pressing her forward.

Sissy kept her lips tightly pressed around his cock, feeling the veins and the twin strands of muscle on the underside with her tongue as he pressed her inexorably onto his girth. She could feel him against her uvula, and gagged involuntarily. He was much too thick to get any farther! But he kept up the pressure on the back of her head, even as she retched around him. 'Stop!' her mind screamed, 'please stop and let me get my...'

George smiled as the little slut tried to resist his advancement into her throat. Her fists began to beat upon his muscular quads and her back arched, trying to twist away from him, but it would be of no use. At this point, he wouldn't stop until his pubic hair was against her nose. In complete defeat, he felt her go limp against him, his cock wedged deep in her throat. She was about to be broken.

In the silence of the star-studded night, George could hear the shaky inhalations that Sissy was attempting to draw in through her nose. Her hands grasped at him, finally sliding up the backs of his legs as she surrendered and waited to be released. He held her there for a count of ten, then pulled slowly back, savoring the feel of her throat constricting around his receding head.

'Not so cocky now, are you?' he thought gleefully.