Too Sweet to Resist

Hi. How are y'all doing? You're probably wondering who I am, and why I'm writing this story. I wonder why I'm writing it myself, so I can't really tell you much about that. I can tell you a little bit about who I am though. My name is Kelli Stewart. I live in Arlington, Texas with my mom and dad. I had a little brother, but he died of leukemia a couple of years ago. I was sad about that for a long time. I don't think my parents have really gotten over it yet. I had an older sister that died just a year before that when she had a bad reaction to the anesthesia the doctors used to put her to sleep before they took her tonsils out. They said the reaction happened because she didn't tell them she'd been using cocaine. I don't know. Maybe that's true, and maybe it isn't. I just know my sister's dead, and so is my brother. I try not to dwell on them too much. I was really close to both of them.

I have another sister. Her name is Laurie. Oddly. She and I aren't really that close. She was much closer to Kaleb, that was my brother, than she ever was to me. We got closer after Michelle died. Then we got even closer after Kaleb died, but we're still not quite like most sisters. Maybe it's because we're so different. She's really wild. I mean really wild. I'm not exactly pure, and I'm certainly not a virgin, but she's been with a lot of guys. I mean a lot. She doesn't know I know about it, but she even turns tricks. She's been doing it for a while. I think she did it the first few times just for the fun of it. Kind of like on a dare. But after that, she just kept doing it because to her it is easy money.

She's really street smart. She barely finished high school and she's not that much in the way of book smarts, but she's a Rhode Scholar in real life matters. I'm just the opposite. I'm very book smart, but I don't seem to know my way around the streets at all. My sister Michelle was both. Sally, that's my mom, says if someone could put Laurie and me together, they'd have Michelle. I look a lot like her. More so than Laurie anyway. I'm almost as tall as she was. I'm five-nine, and Michelle was five-ten. Laurie's only five-five. Plus I've got lots of freckles, just like Michelle had. Laurie's whole complexion is a smooth dark brown. She doesn't have a freckle or a blemish anywhere. She does have a tattoo on her ass. She's thinking about having her tits done too; hers are really small, while mine are big, round and firm, just like Michelle's were; so that might leave some kind of scar. Without that though, her skin is absolutely perfect. I don't see how. She eats chocolate like it's the staple of life. She smokes around fifty cigarettes a day. And, the only time a piece of fruit or a vegetable ever enters her body is when she uses a cucumber to masturbate with. I won't even get into the amount of coke she packs up her nose. I'd be lying if I said I never had an occasional drink or a cigarette, and I've been talked into the odd line of cocaine, but Laurie acts like the stuff has no consequence whatsoever. I mean none.

Still. She's Laurie and I love her, and being Laurie works for her. To tell you the truth, being Kelli hasn't really been working so well for me. As smart as I supposedly am, I seem to screw up a lot. One of my perpetual screw-ups is what led to the events of this story. I'm heading into my senior year at St. Joseph's Academy in Arlington, TX. Where, as I already mentioned, I live with my parents. I've been dating my best friend Cathy Diaz's brother for over a year now. Timmy is beginning his sophomore year at the University of Texas. Laurie warned me that college guys only hold onto their high school girlfriends so they'll have a sure piece of ass set aside for the weekends they come home to get their laundry done. Cathy even said similar things to me, and Timmy is her brother. I refused to listen to either though, and doggedly stayed with the belief that Timmy and I are different. Can you spell S-T-U-P-I-D? I can. Didn't I tell you how book smart I am?

Timmy has a friend that played strong safety for the Longhorns last year and got drafted by the Jacksonville Jaguars. He sent Timmy two tickets to their preseason game with the Dolphins and we flew to Florida last Friday to watch the game. I'd been to Dallas games before, but this was the first time I was ever a player's guest and our seats were really cool. Then one of the other players was having a party in their hotel and we got invited along. It seems as if he rented the entire floor of this hotel that was downtown on the St. Johns River. It was beautiful. All the rooms were open and people were going in and out. Buckets of champagne and wine coolers and every kind of drink imaginable were right there with a snap of your fingers. My sensitive nose didn't have any trouble detecting that not all the cigarettes being smoked were Marlboros. That was cool. When one got passed my way, I didn't turn it down. How often does a teenage girl get to party with NFLers anyway? Besides, it's not like it was the first joint I ever toked on. When the mirror, with white lines laid out on it, made it's way to me; I couldn't turn that down either. That would have been rude.

Somehow, between the wine coolers I drank, and the pot I smoked, and the cocaine I snorted, I lost track of Timmy. Don't ask me how, but while I was in the process of looking for him, I managed to avoid the offers to be kept company that I received from a certain wide receiver and a certain running back that I won't name. Too bad, because when I finally wandered into the right room, I found Timmy shirtless and down to his boxers, lying on a king sized bed, kissing and sucking the nipples of a blonde cheerleader, who oddly enough was only in her panties. Maybe it was the pot, or the booze, or even the coke; but that didn't piss me off. I just thought he must have been waiting for me to come join them and that's why they both still had their underwear on. I know. S-T-U-P-I-D. I'm stupid.

So, rather than storming off, I started lifting my white tank top over my head. Now, even though I have fooled around with and done some kissing with Cathy, I wasn't really into the idea of having sex with this cheerleader. Still, I know the idea of a threesome turned Timmy on. What guy doesn't it turn on? And, if watching me go down on this bimbo made it better for him, I was willing. Only problem was, once I was down to my panties, and crawled onto the bed, I discovered that the bimbo wasn't quite as willing to share her new discovery. Just because the guy's girlfriend was willing to eat her pussy for him didn't mean she wanted the girlfriend taking that dive.

So. Embarrassing scenario number one occurred when she called me a dyke and told me to get away. Much worse was when she told Timmy to get rid of the dyke or she was leaving. Now, most of you are probably thinking Timmy told her that was no way to talk to his girlfriend that she was the one that should leave. If that's what you're thinking, then you're just as S-T-U-P-I-D stupid as I am. No. Timmy told me to leave. Right. Me. Not the blonde, bimbo, cheerleader he'd only met half an hour ago. Me. The girl he'd know since forever.

I was in shock as I stumbled from the bed and snatched up my clothes. Fortunately, I had enough sense to put them back on before I exited into the hallway. Unfortunately, I was out of the hotel and walking along the river walkway before I realized that I had next to no money and Timmy had both tickets back to Texas.

I was about five blocks from the hotel before I really started thinking about what I was going to do. I mean, shit. Here I was a couple of thousand miles from home with seventeen dollars in my purse and no ticket. I'd say shit again, but that doesn't even begin to describe what I was in. Deep shit maybe, but not plain shit.

I fished into my purse and dug out my cell phone. I might be the one that can solve differential equations in my head, while Laurie only passed Algebra II because she blew her teacher the day of the final; but I trusted Laurie to know what to do about this a hell of a lot more than I trusted me. Only problem was I got her voice mail when I called. Fuck! What was I going to do now? I went ahead and left Laurie a message, "Laurie. It's Kelli. I'm in more shit than I know what to do about. Please call me back on my cell and tell me what to do."

I closed my phone and dropped it back in my purse. I gave marginal thought to calling Cathy, but I knew she'd have about as much clue as to what I should do as I did. For about half a millisecond, I thought about calling my mom; but there is no fucking way I'd put myself through that kind of torture unless it was life and death. Were I just a little bit smarter, and I were I just a tab bit more sober, it probably would have occurred to me that walking the streets after dark in the clothes I was wearing actually was on the verge of being life and death for me.

As a matter of fact, when I reached back into my purse to pull out a cigarette to try to calm my nerves, a blue Nissan Frontier pulled up to the curb I was standing at, just as I placed the cigarette to my lips. The passenger window rolled down, and a sort of cute guy asked me if I needed a light. Since I hadn't been able to find any matches in my purse, I clinched the cigarette between my teeth, shrugged my shoulders and said, "Seems so."

He handed me out the truck's lighter, and I took it from him so I could hold it to my cigarette. After it was lit and I was blowing out a stream of smoke, I handed the lighter back to him. He had nice hands. Strong looking. I like a guy with strong hands. I hate guys that have hands that look like they belong on a girl. I handed the lighter back to him and said, "Thanks."

As he was putting the lighter back in place, I noticed the driver for the first time. He was kind of cute too, but not as cute as his buddy. He had blond hair. Hair so blond it was almost white. I like that. He looked like he'd had an acne problem when he was younger, so his face was a little scarred up and he had a long pointed nose, but he was still rugged looking and I like that. Rugged gets me going.

Now, if they'd asked me if I wanted a ride, I'm just dumb enough that I would have thought they were being sweet. As it was, the one nearest me said, "We're looking for a date."

Even I am not so dumb that I haven't heard that asking for a date was code for trying to pick up a hooker. But, I'm also not so smart that I didn't realize that he hadn't just chosen his words poorly. So, I thought I'd tease him a little about his accidental pun. Yeah. I know. S-T-U-P-I-D. I'm stupid. Anyway, in my attempt to be cute, I said, "I might be. Y'all aren't cops, are you?"

They both shook their heads and the driver said, "No way, baby."

There was a bit of an edge to this guy's voice that his friend didn't have. I still wasn't catching on yet though. So, I said, "Cool. How much?"

At this point, you're probably really wondering how I got fifteen hundred on my SAT. Well join the club, because pretty much everybody wonders that. To my asinine question, the passenger said, "We'll give you fifty bucks to suck us both off."

Like I said, I'm not overly streetwise. But, I'm not THAT dumb, so it finally hit me. I thought about the white cotton tank top I was wearing with no bra underneath it. I thought about the way the temp had dropped about twenty degrees in the last hour, and my nipples that were now about an inch long were poking out against the fabric of the tank top. I thought about the way it rode up above my belly button and combined with the low riding shorts I was wearing showed everyone that wanted to look my twin-balled stud pierced through my navel. I thought about how short my shorts actually were, and how well they revealed every inch of thigh that there was of my well-tanned legs. Not to mention the good amount of butt cheeks they also showed. As that all ran through my mind, it hit me. OH FUCK! THESE GUYS REALLY THINK I'M A HOOKER!

"Uhhhh-" I stuttered. " I think there's been a misunderstanding here."

At that, the driver snapped impatiently, "Okay. We'll give you fifty bucks a piece to blow us both."

I shook my head and stepped away from the curb. They both angrily flipped me off and shouted something about me being a fucking cunt as they peeled away. I was so shook up that I nearly dropped my cigarette. I took two or three deep drags and used it to light a second one before I discarded it to the street. No sooner had I tossed the cigarette butt to the pavement before a beautiful, black, stretch limo was pulling to a stop along side the curb I stood at. Oh shit, I thought. Here we go again.

But, to my relief, when the curbside window lowered, I heard a familiar voice and saw a familiar face. "Kelli," he said in his charming British accent. He looks like Sean Connery, but his voice is pure Cary Grant. "What are you doing here all by yourself?"

It was Laurie's friend, Paul. She referred to him as her friend anyway, but even I knew she was his mistress. She didn't mind me knowing, but she tried to keep it from Sally. Sally would never stop bitching if she knew Laurie was fucking with a married man. I'd only met him three or four times, but I was still so fucking happy to see him, I nearly pissed my shorts. "Oh my God, Paul," I said as I waved my hands and jumped up and down on the sidewalk. "Thank God you're here. I'm in such deep shit."

The door opened and he said, "Get in the car, child, before someone mistakes you for a streetwalker."

It was one of those super luxury models that had two seats turned so that they faced each other. It even had a bar and other amenities between them. I couldn't help but giggle at his comment as I crawled into the car and sat in the seat facing opposite of Paul. As soon as he shut the door, he asked, "What's so funny?"

"Two guys just offered me fifty bucks a piece to perform a certain service for them."

"What service was that?"

At that point, I turned to my right to see that I was not the lone occupant of the seat facing Paul. "Howie," Paul said sternly. "Don't be rude. She's only a child."

"I'm not a child," I said indignantly. I didn't really realize at the time, but I must have been slurring my words quite a bit. I'm not that much of a drinker, and I'd had quite a few wine coolers back in that hotel.

"Of course she's not a child," the man Paul had referred to as Howie said. Howie, I thought. Hmmm. Oh shit! This can't be that Howie. Laurie and her friend Amanda had had quite a time with him in the back seat of a Mercedes while they were in Amsterdam two summers ago. That, while his son Harvey was driving the Mercedes with Laurie's friend Taylor gaving him a blowjob as he drove. Taylor had been the one to tell me about it of course. Laurie still tried to shield me from such things. Silly bitch.

I suddenly felt his hand resting gently on my shoulder. It was a strong hand. Did I tell you I have a thing for hands? "Huh?" I said.

The hand rubbed my shoulder softly. "I asked if you wanted a drink."

"Howie," Paul said. "She's too young for a drink."

"Jesus, Paul," I said. "You act like I'm twelve or something. I'm a big girl who has had a drink or two before."

"I'd say you've already had more than a drink or two tonight."

I giggled again and said, "That and a few other things."

"Really," Howie said. Intrigued, his hand sliding down and rubbing my back. Nice. "What other things?"

"Well," I said as I leaned my head to one side and sighed as Howie's hand moved to my neck. "Just things."

His fingers felt so good that I didn't even notice the straps of my tank top being slid down over my shoulders and onto my arms. It seemed the natural thing to do to just lean my body back into his and let him work. I felt his lips on my neck and moaned. I heard Paul scolding him again and wanted to tell Paul to shut the fuck up myself, but Howie beat me to it. "Shut up and enjoy it, Paul. You know she's too sweet to resist."

Without conviction, Paul replied, "She's Laurie's sister."

"Uh-huh," Howie said between placing kisses on my neck. His hands had stopped rubbing my shoulders and were now cupping my tits. I gasped as he rolled my nipples between his fingers. He whispered in my ear and I raised my arms in obedience to his command. With my arms up, he lifted my tank top up over them and off of my body, exposing my breasts for both he and Paul to admire.

His hands returned to my boobs as his lips returned to my neck. A glance in Paul's direction let me see him fidgeting in the seat as his hand dropped and began to rub his erection through his trousers. Howie had seen it too and whispered in my ear again. I smiled and dropped to my knees in front of him. All thoughts of protecting me must have left his mind, because his legs opened as soon as my knees hit the floor of the car, and as my hand reached for his zipper, he softly whispered, "Yes."

I freed his erection from the confines of his trousers and leaned my lips down to the head of his cock. As I let Paul's dick slip into my mouth, I felt Howie's hands working my shorts and panties down my thighs and to my knees. I lifted up so that he could pull them the rest of the way off. Somehow, my tennis shoes had been removed without me even realizing it, leaving me naked in the car with the two men.

Paul gasped as I sucked harder on his cock and I moaned inwardly as I felt Howie's fingers work magic on my slit. Oh shit! Goddamn that felt good!

My legs opened and I felt something being rubbed up and down the length of my moist pussy lips. It felt bigger than anything I had ever felt against my pussy before. I wanted to turn and look, but Paul held my head down on his cock as he began to cum. Though it's not my favorite thing in the world to do, I had no choice but to swallow him and keep swallowing as he sprayed the back of my throat with his load.

I continued to suck for all I was worth trying to get every last drop out of him. His semen tasted different from Timmy's. I've heard that diet has something to do with how semen tastes. I wonder if that's true. As I finished sucking Paul, I felt the most mind-bending stretch I'd ever imagined as Howie's cock shoved into my cunt.

He'd worked the head in as I finished and Paul let his hands fall off of my head so that I could lift up and scream, "Oh my God! That's so fucking big!"

Howie continued and pushed about an inch more into me, and I screamed again, "Oh shit! Oh fucking shit! It's too fucking big! Stop. Stop. STOP!"

He stopped, but didn't pull out, so I whimpered, "Please. Take it out. You're too big."

"Shhh," he said. "I'll go slow. I'm big, but I've yet to meet the girl that couldn't take it."

"Please," I whimpered again, but he had resumed his pushing. The pain was so intense; I thought I'd pass out. I had been with three guys other than Timmy and none of them were anywhere near this big. Taylor had told me she thought Howie was around nine or ten inches and thicker than any cock she'd ever seen. And, believe me, Taylor's seen a lot of cocks.

Oddly, enough, Paul began to stroke my hair and as Howie was about halfway in I began to relax. Then Paul's fingers left my hair and slid their way down underneath me until he was stroking my clit as Howie pushed his cock the rest of the way into me. The feeling of being stretched like that is indescribable. It felt like someone had shoved his or her whole arm inside me. God, Paul's fingers on my clit felt good though. Then, Howie began to inch his way out of me. He pulled back about an inch at first. Then he pushed it back in all the way. He did this ten or a dozen times before he pulled out a little more than an inch and pushed it back in all the way. Then with each stroke, he pulled out a little further on the outstroke, until finally only the tip was left still inside me.