The Bodyguard

It all started when I was 18 and decided that instead of spending time with the stupid, boring and downright disgusting boys my own age, that I'd seduce my father's business partner instead. On some random Tuesday near the end of the school year, I had walked from school to the office and discovered my father was out at a meeting, but could I wait in the partner's office instead? Of course I could. It wasn't really anything special -- I can't remember the details to be honest, but one thing led to another, and I was sucking the cock of a much older man from beneath his desk in a room that smelled like leather and pledge spray.

He was just the first of many. When I got bored, or just needed something to do, it was always the attention of a forbidden man or a stranger that would set me right again. Of course, the business partner felt guilty for cheating on his spouse and said he wanted to end things -- four or five times before it really stuck for him -- but his wife and my father never found out, and they went on to become enormously successful anyway.

Once he really called it quits, the next week when my mother was having her kitchen remodeled, I lost my virginity to the contractor's assistant in the back of his Ford F-150 parked behind the house. His name was Chris, or John, something generic like that. We carried on for a few weeks until the project was finished, sneaking away every couple of days where I'd ride him hard and fast while his massive arms fully encircled my waist, pulling me down onto him with the same urgency I felt to get out of that town.

Through the end of high school and through college, there were rendezvous with football players in locker room showers after hours, random hookups in the back of clubs I got into with my fake ID, and of course the guy in the room next to mine in the dorm freshman year. At the same time, my father continued to get even wealthier and more successful, and with it came the attention from the paparazzi, and from everyone else. Suddenly, my every move was being watched and my proclivity for sneaking around with boys in dark corners suddenly became a very real problem for my folks. My junior year, two friends and I rented an apartment off campus because the dorms at school could no longer keep everyone out -- a few times, we had hastily scrawled notes on our dorm with rape or death threats.

The apartment was my haven for a while, and I was able to continue my sexual exploits as usual; mostly, public dalliances were off the table, but I got very good at sneaking boys in through the back of my building. Until one night, I met a man who told me his name was Adam, and he was a music producer downtown. We danced all night, shooting tequila and sneaking to the bathroom for the occasional bump. By 4 AM, I was too crossfaded to stand straight, and my roommates wanted to bring me home. They tell me that Adam freaked out and wanted to come with us, and a fight ensued. The next afternoon I woke up to find my roommate's boyfriend had a black eye and a broken wrist, and that a police report had been filed against Adam. When the investigation came back, it turned out the creep had a shrine or something in his bedroom closet to me and my family. Yuck.

That was the final straw, and my parents gave me a choice: either move home and commute to school from their heavily guarded home or hire private security to keep tabs on me. There was no way I could give up my freedom, so they hired a driver and they hired Caleb.

I got home from class one day and a man with dirty blonde hair wearing a dark suit was crouched under my bed with a flashlight. I screamed at him, and he stood. Towered, more like it, at 6' 3" to my 5' 5", and introduced himself as Caleb, the bodyguard.

"You can't just go through my stuff, get out of my room," I snapped at him.

He told me he was doing a thorough security check of the apartment, and he turned back to the bed. I saw him push a pair of my favorite lace panties to the side. He didn't even flinch or pretend to be embarrassed or apologetic. Jerk.

Caleb continued his snooping through the apartment, while my roommate, Kayla, just stared at him slack-jawed. I mean, I guess he was subjectively sort of hot, but the fact that he just came in there like he owned the place, plus that he was hired by my folks, really pissed me off.

Finally, when he was finished, he grunted he'd be outside the door and stepped outside. Kayla still hadn't seemed to recover from his presence. "Well, he won't be around long," she said. "Once you screw him, there's no way your parents will let him stay on."

True, I thought. That would be an easy way to get rid of him.

Over the next four weeks, I did everything I knew to do to try to get Caleb to slip up. I'd accidentally flash him my panties when getting into cars, I'd rub up against him when we were in crowds as he pushed the paparazzi back for me to get through. Every guy I brought home I screamed louder and louder so I knew Caleb could hear me from outside the door. I even let one guy fuck me up against the front door, and when I came I made sure to scream it as loud as I could and tell him he was the best fuck I ever had -- until a few weeks later.

He was such an asshole sometimes, pulling me out of nightclubs if things got too rowdy, telling guys to go home if he thought I was too drunk. He was really getting in the way of my partying and I needed him to go. I even asked my parents if we could find someone else, but they told me again and again he was the best of the best. And that's really all they ever would want.

This stupid behavior continued for weeks, but nothing from Caleb.

Then, the letters started. At first, they were anonymous, calling me a bitch, telling me I deserved to die, and outlining in excruciating detail what would happen to me if the writer ever caught me. Caleb knew about Adam, but they couldn't pin it on him. Caleb wanted us to move so that the writer didn't have our address, but I didn't want to -- I think a part of me hoped this might get him fired, too. I came home from class one day, and our front door had been busted up -- no one got in, but they had definitely been trying.

Caleb cracked down on the going out then. "No one comes in or out of this apartment who doesn't live here," he told me and Kayla one night. I freaked out, screamed, threw things at him, but he didn't budge on the matter, and my parents backed him up.

I decided to test him on Kayla's birthday -- we went out to one of the hottest clubs in the city and I brought home a hunky Australian named James who we had invited to our table. When it was time to leave, me and the Aussie climbed into the car, with Caleb and the driver in front. Usually, Caleb would put up the partition to let me spend some time with my new friend in peace, but tonight he left it down -- I didn't notice until, after making out for a few minutes, James started to make his way down my stomach, leaving a trail of kisses and bite marks until he pushed his head under my skirt. He circled my clit with his tongue while, with his fingers, he fucked me. I dug my fingers into his hair as I pushed myself into his face, my eyes involuntarily fluttered open. Caleb's icy blue eyes were staring straight at me, square jaw tight and pulsing. James kept going -- the man was excellent, I have to say -- hoisting my leg over his shoulder while he knelt in the footwell of the car. I kept my eyes locked on Calebs, and he kept his on mine. When I threw my head back in pleasure as I came, they closed, and when I regained my composure, he was looking out the window instead.

We pulled up to the apartment and Caleb opened the door. When James went to climb out, Caleb shoved him back into the car and told the driver to take him home. "What the fuck, Caleb?" I yelled at him. James looked out the car window confused, and the driver took off. "Fuck you!" I screamed, shoving him. "Policy," was all he said, or really grunted at me.

When we got to the apartment door, Caleb took up his usual position just to the right of the door while I fumbled with my keys. I finally got myself in the door and turned around. He was staring at me again. I slammed the door in his face, marched into my room and passed out.

I woke up when I felt a hand moving up my leg and realized that I was fully pinned down onto my bed. I had fallen asleep in my miniskirt and tank top, face down. I tried to roll over, but the person on top of me had the upper hand -- and that hand was rapidly making its way under my skirt. I felt their breath in my ear. I should have been freaked out, I should have screamed, but I was so worked up from my run-in with James and Caleb eye-fucking me from the front seat that I didn't really care who it was. I felt their fingers brush against the outside of my panties, which were absolutely soaked. I tried to shift against them, to rub their fingers over my clit to start to satiate the pounding coming from my pussy, but I was pushed down harder into the bed. I couldn't move at all.

Suddenly, my panties were pulled aside and the person plunged their fingers into my hungry pussy, and I groaned into my pillow. While their thumb pressed against my clit, they began to stroke the inside of my pussy. I couldn't help but writhe with pleasure, and suddenly before I knew it I was cumming on their hand.

Before I could fully recover, they pulled their hand away and I heard the sound of a belt buckle being loosened. I went to turn over, and I heard, "stay down."

I knew that voice.

"Caleb," I breathed, and in the same motion he put his hands under my hips and lifted my ass in the air. Suddenly, his tongue was back working on my pussy, cleaning up the juices from when he made me cum, and when he watched me cum before. I pushed my pussy back into his face, feeling his stubble rub against me. It was rough, it hurt, and I loved it.

He pulled is mouth away, despite my whimpers of protestation. "Wait," he said. Suddenly, I felt something hard pushing against my pussy. Before I knew it, in one stroke Caleb buried his cock all the way up to its hilt into my pussy. I fell forward with the force, and his entire bodyweight pressed down on me while he moved in and out -- slow, at first, but he began moving faster and faster. I lost count of the number of times I came, with my hips bucking up involuntarily against his. He intertwined his fingers into the back of my hair and pulled, gently but enough that it made me cum again. I was completely delirious with pleasure. Finally, I felt his cock begin to grow inside of me and his thrusts became more urgent, until with one guttural moan he slammed his hips against my ass and emptied himself into me. We lay there for a moment -- I had no ability to form words or even open my eyes. He withdrew his softening cock from my pussy, and even that made me moan with pleasure. He shifted his weight back off the bed, and I heard him fastening his belt buckle. I finally was able to open my eyes when he was almost at my bedroom door, with his hands on the door handle.

He looked back at me and we locked eyes for just a moment, then he twisted the door handle, walked out, and turned. "No one else in or out," he said. His mouth was in a straight line, but I saw the same glimmer in his eyes that I had seen before in the car.

Then, he closed the door.