Marc loves small girls, with only one exception; they were all much shorter, smaller chest and, ‘perky’. Yes that word does describe them all.
Kara was a girlfriend who came and went all through high school. He would date her for a month, maybe six weeks and then they would split and not see her for another month or more. He would ask me to go pick her up at her house, or, her father would drop her off at our house. I always wondered if her father knew or suspected she was getting fucked, regularly by Marc. I know this because of the motion sensitive security system we have in the house.
Most areas have a security camera pointed across a room, looking at either doors or windows. All rooms have a motion detector which turns on the cameras and records whatever activity has triggered it. The system is set to only record when the house is alarmed, nights and when we leave. But it can be manually overridden, set to record as needed.
So, I am a curious person / father. Kara would arrive, and both would disappear into the finished basement, turn on the projection TV system and… That’s what I wanted to know. So after they disappeared into the basement followed by our dog, I went into my den where the computer control for the security system lives. Clicked on the system and changed inputs to the basement. They were sitting on the couch, facing the projection screen, his hand in her pants, her hand moving up and down his cock. Marc often (especially when a girl was coming to the house) would wear baggy sweat pants with no underwear (Liz and I called them the easy out and in pants… use your imagination). This went on for some minutes, until she leand across and kissed Marc, who brought his arm to her waist and lifted her blouse. Kara was small breasted, most likely with a pair of ‘B’s. No bra brought her delights to his immediate attention. His hands left her pants and he suckled her small nipples. Her head snapped back, arching her back into his face. She turned and sat on his lap facing him, giving him access to all her pleasure areas. His hands were back in her pants, sliding them down her ass and exposing a wonderful sight to my voyeur eyes, as he nibbled on her neck and slid his mouth down to her nipples.
I could see her shuddering from the pleasure he was delivering. He stopped and pushed her over on to the couch, landing on her back. He reached for the waistband of her jeans and in one movement pulled them off. She was left with only a thin gray thong covering her pussy, her small breasts sporting two erect nipples. Marc leaned over her, lowering his head to her nipples and his hand to her thong covered pussy. His hand began to work its way into her cunt and she responded by arching her back and biting her lower lip, then, lying on top of her he seemed to be talking to her. He got up and off her and left. I heard him on the basement stairs and then heard him pounding up the stairs to the bedrooms. He rushed into his room and I could hear him opening and closing drawers. As I listened to him rummaging, I watched the monitor of the basement image. Kara was lying on the couch, one hand draped over the side playing with the dog, the other hand buried in her pussy. He stopped rummaging, muttered something to himself and came to the den door where I was. I turned the monitor so he could not see the image of Kara masturbating herself.
“Dad, I need a favor” he asked. “Do you and Mom use condoms?”
I decided to be a wise guy and replied “Only for water balloon fights, why?”
“Dad, be serious. I need a condom, now.”
“It’s very brazen of you to come up here and tell me you are about to fuck Kara. I thought I taught you to be prepared at all times to protect the girl you are intimate with. Right?”
“You’re right, but PLEASE I need one right now.”
I asked him “So what happened to the last supply? Where is the one you are supposed to keep in your wallet?”
“Do you want a list of the girls and places and who I gave them to before you will give me one?”
“How many did you give to Dan?” I asked.
“Six.” he replied.
“One in your wallet and you used five?”
“DAD, PLEASE?” He insisted.
“OK, keep it in your pants.”
I went to my bedroom and retrieved one condom from my drawer. I gave it to him and he bounded down the stairs. When he got to the basement, Kara asked him what took so long.
“My dad wouldn’t give me a condom. I am out. I have to buy more.”
“You mean your father knows what we are doing?”
“Yeah, so? He doesn’t mind. He’s not dumb.”
“You expect me to look at him, have him see me and know I am fucking his son?”
“Why not, my parents fuck, I know it, they make noises, I hear it and I see them every day. No big deal.”
Marc dropped his pants, jerked his cock to erection and handed the condom to Kara. She opened it and rolled it onto his cock. It didn’t appear that she was into the sex as much as before Marc went on his condom hunt, but fuck they did. Marc got his canlı bahis şirketleri load off, but it didn’t appear that Kara had any orgasms from this session. They had just finished when I had the sudden urge to get something, anything from the basement. With the security system on and recording, I went down the stairs and down the basement, listening to the sounds of two people hurriedly, panicked, and dressing before I ‘discovered’ them. They were flushed and disheveled in attire, but clothed and polite. I went to the laundry room and chuckled to myself over how rude I was.
Marc and Kara dated until early summer and then he moved on to another young girl. A good deal of time passed and we never saw Kara in Marc’s life again.
In early September, as classes were beginning for another school year, I was home after a day of teaching and office hours. Liz had left for an off shift at the hospital and I was in the studio working on some assignments. I heard a car pull into the driveway, a car horn go off and a door slam. Now, what, I thought to myself as I left my photo studio and entered the garage. The doors were opened and I saw the rear of a figure heading for the main door of the house. As I entered the house, I found Kara kneeling on the floor, playing with our dog.
“Kara? What brings you here? Marc’s not home.”
“I came to see your dog” she said, but not in a normal way. She was drunk, stinking drunk. I could smell the alcohol from ten feet away.
“Kara, what’s wrong? Why are you drunk this early in the afternoon? It’s not like you at all. So, talk to me. Can I help you?”
She began sobbing, crying, screaming, leaned forward and hit the floor, pounding her fists and hands into the carpet, all the time screaming.
I walked over to her and knelt by her side; rubbing her back and trying to lift her head from the floor.
Her face was a mess of tears, running make-up and mascara. I left her, went to the kitchen, got a clean bar mop, wet it and returned to fix her face and begin to comfort her and hopefully to calm her down so she could talk to me.
I got her to sit up on the floor but she was too drunk to maintain a sitting position. I wondered how she managed to drive to our home in this state. I got up and put my hands into her arm pits and lifted her to a wobbly standing position. She leaned back against me and I had to grab her around the waist to steady her. I dragged her to the couch and in the process pulled her blouse almost to her neck, exposing her braless breasts. She flopped down, listing to one side and never seemed to notice her nakedness. For that matter, she never noticed my nakedness. She looked up at me and the crying began, again. I retrieved the towel and handed it to her, but she was too drunk to even hold it. I began to dry the streaks of tears and make-up, all the time trying to quietly whisper comforting words to her.
“Kara, come on. You need to talk to me why are you drunk in the middle of the afternoon? What has caused this? Did Marc have anything to do with this?”
She shook her head and gave me a drunken “No, not Marc”. Her eyes were beginning to flutter and then she just passed out.
I decided not to leave her in the living room on the couch, so I picked her up in my arms and carried her up to the spare bed room. I no sooner laid her down when I heard her begin to wretch; she was going to be sick. Quickly, I picked her up and raced to the adjoining bath room, but not in time.
She covered herself and me in her up-chuck.
“SHIT” I yelled. “I hate the stench of vomit.”
Into the shower I laid her down and turned on the warm water. No choice now, I started stripping her clothing off her. I placed the soiled skirt, thong and blouse in the sink, removed her flip-flops and grabbed the shower head. I hosed her off, and turned the stream on myself. When I was finally cleansed of vomit, I returned to my naked friend. She was still passed out and lying in vomit washed from my and her own body. I managed to hose the remaining into the drain, lifting and turning her as needed. I had a chance, now, to admire the beauty she possessed in her naked state. Short cut light brown hair, smallish breasts with very pink areoles and eraser sized nipples. Her pussy was just a gash between her legs, with no outer fleshy lips. A small triangle of light brown pubic hair topped her honey pot.
I went to the linen closet and retrieved two bath sized towels, laying one on top of the bed. I returned to Kara and awkwardly lifted her up and wrapped her in the towel. I delivered her to the other towel on the bed and laid her down. I used one towel to dry her hair, and her upper body. The towel she was laying on I used for her hips, legs and feet. I got a small hand towel and used it for her pussy, spreading her legs to gain access and remove whatever substances were caught there. I separated the outer lips of her cunt and just starred at the beauty of her vaginal lips and tunnel. Her clit must canlı kaçak iddaa have known something good was happening because it began to appear from its hiding place.
I let her just lie on the bed, covered in the towels and returned to the bath room and shower to clean it and dry the shower walls. I used a towel to dry myself and when I had finished, returned to my patient.
She had rolled over to her side and had exposed the sweetest set of ass cheeks I had seen in some time. Her pussy was visible as was her ass hole. I wanted so badly to lick and kiss it and press fingers and tongue and cock into any and all of her womanly openings, but molesting the unconscious is not my style. As I looked down to my friend, standing at horizontal attention in front of my groin, I told him, not now, not this time. He bid a slow, reluctant retreat.
I went back down stairs, her wet, dirty laundry in hand and headed for the laundry room. Yes, all her cloths were washable so in they went, and I went off to the studio, dog in tow, to complete my work.
Two, maybe three hours later I heard noises in the garage. I yelled for my wife, thinking she was home early. No answer, so I left the studio and went into the garage, no one there. Then I heard a car door slam. Kara was in her car attempting to drive off. I ran to the passenger side, opened the door and pulled the keys from the ignition. She sat there, her head wobbling, still drunk and naked. Again, the tears started and her head went back hitting the head restraint. Passed out again.
I got out, grabbed her purse, closed the door and went around to the driver’s door. I opened it, reached in for her legs, swung them out and got her into a fireman’s carry, on my shoulder. Good thing there is no clear view from my neighbor’s home into my yard, because they would have gotten an eye full; a naked 44 year old man with a naked 22 year old girl on his shoulder, her ass in the air, and he is carrying her into his house.
This time I deposited her in the kitchen, placing her on a bar stool and pushing her naked chest and head onto the granite counter top. I heard her suck in a breath as her breasts were crushed into the cold stone surface. She stayed there as I made a pot of coffee and was determined to sober her up, and find out what was wrong with her and what caused this behavior.
Coffee made, I poured a small cup and picked up her head, unceremoniously by her hair. I placed the cup to her lips and dribbled some into her mouth. Most dripped down her chest. (Oh, I wanted to lick it off her breasts, but No, I had to be the gentleman). She was starting to come around, eyes were opening. Saliva was leaking from the corners of her mouth. She saw the coffee cup and feebly reached for it. I held it for her and helped her to sip the strong warm liquid.
“Why am I naked?” she asked in a still drunken voice.
“Do you know where you are? How much do you remember of this afternoon?” I asked.
She just stared down into the coffee cup, pushed it forward and asked for more, “… with a little sugar, please?” I obliged and waited for her to respond.
“Did I get sick?” she sheepishly asked.
“Yes, you did. I had to undress you, shower you off and clean you up. I put you on the bed, dried you off and covered you. Why did you try to drive away, still drunk?”
“So you took off all my clothes?”
“Yes, I had to. You vomited all over yourself and me. We had to shower together.” I replied.
She buried her head in her hands and started to cry, again. When she looked up, I handed her Kleenex and she looked at me, through me and her eyes widened…
“You’re naked too!” She blurted out.
“Yes, I generally am when I am home. Liz, and I mostly don’t wear clothes when we are home. Marc sometimes does too. If friends we know and care about come over we stay naked. After all, it is our house. If it offends people, well, they know where the door is.”
“I thought you were holding me prisoner. I had to escape.”
“But you were naked. Where did you think you were going to escape to?” No answer
“Want something to eat?” I asked. “I have some cinnamon raisin bagels I could toast up for you. Maybe soak up some of the residual alcohol in your stomach.” She liked that idea and so the toaster oven was called into action.
We ate, we stared out, blankly, and we gaped at each other’s nakedness, and continued to eat. When we finished, she looked exhausted.
I asked if she would like to nap a bit before leaving. She looked at me, a pitiful expression on her face and said, “Can’t leave dressed like this now can I?”
Oops. I headed for the laundry room and transferred her cloths from the washer to the dryer.
When I returned, her head was on her arms on the counter. I lifted her up into my arms and carried her to the spare bedroom. When we arrived I stood her up and she wrapped her arms around my neck. She looked up at me and kissed my chest. I bent over and planted canlı kaçak bahis a brotherly kiss on her cheek. She pulled my head to her mouth and opened her lips for my tongue to enter and play with her tongue. She sucked, hungrily at my mouth, running her hands up and down my back and settling on my ass cheeks. Because of our height difference, my hardening cock was at her navel. She could feel its presence and brought herself up on her toes and with one hand pushed my cock down. It was now parting her front entrance and as she pulled me closer to her, it slipped through her legs and I felt it part her labia, and able to rub her clit. I moved my hips back and forth, knowing I was stimulating her pussy. Her lubricant was beginning to flow and drip onto and off my cock.
“I want you inside me.” She said.
“Now? Here?” I questioned.
With that said she pushed me back and dropped to her knees. She was just eye to cock and took me in her hands. She performed what I would call a close cock inspection, tugging on my length, squeezing the now purple head, fondling my scrotum and its contents and, surprisingly, reaching through my legs to finger my ass hole.
“I assure you, I have one and it works just fine.”
She then gave me a silly grin, slapped my ass and sucked my cock into her mouth. Doing so caused her to move forward, losing her balance in her still drunken state and my cock went all the way to the back of her throat.
“Not going to work like this.” I said and reached down to lift her up and sit her on the bed.
I pushed her back to lying on her back, swung her legs up and joined her in a 69 position. She eagerly went for my cock, playing with the head, slipping her tongue into my pee hole, sliding the skin up and down.
She asked “Why didn’t you have Marc circumcised when he was a baby?”
“We were not into wanting our son to experience that pain, in that spot, and there is no medical reason that holds water as to why it has to be done. Religious reasons aside, if the foreskin is kept clean it is an additional stimulator for the head of the penis.”
She began exploring the rest of my lower anatomy, scrotum and balls, sucking them into her mouth and fingering my ass hole. Finally she settled in on my cock and paid detailed attention to it.
I was doing my close inspection for her lower anatomy, lifting one leg and resting her foot on the bed her knee in the air, using my fingers to open her female passageway, admiring the pink and texture of a young girls vaginal area. Her clit again began to take notice of a stranger’s presence and became visible to me. I paid it great attention, licking and sucking it and running my tongue into her tunnel and around the pleasure button. She reacted like any woman would deep, short breaths, moans, squirming of the hips. I love the reactions of women and girls when they are pleasured. I managed two fingers into her pussy and she jumped, especially when I found her ‘G’ spot. Two fingers were followed by three and her body easily expanded to admit them. I went for four and she let out a little scream, but did not tell me to stop. Again, her opening expanded and her moaning and small cries of pleasure increased. OK, go for the fist. I slowly moved my fingers, all four, into a tight formation with my thumb tucked inside. Slowly, rotating my hand, I eased it into her pussy. Little by little she accepted it until I was well inside her body, again, slowly advancing a little, retreating a little, advancing a little more, retreating a little, until… I was in up to my wrist. Her breathing was intense, panting almost.
I asked if she was OK. She responded, “I have never felt so full. How many fingers do you have in me?”
“Guess.” I said.
“Feels like three.” She replied.
“Try again.” I said.
“My god, you have your whole hand in me, don’t you.”
I wiggled my fingers and she began to spasm. I could feel her vaginal muscles tighten around my pointed fingers and hand. Her orgasm was intense and rolling, one orgasm rolled into another, like a sine wave she was on an orgasmic rollercoaster.
My mouth went to her clit, sucking on it and she was screaming as she breathed, her hips were gyrating up and down, back and forth and I was not moving my hands… she was doing it to herself. I felt I had done enough and began to slowly slip my hand out of her, watching her flesh return to normal. Amazing functions occur inside a woman’s body; able to push a baby out and still retain the ability to squeeze her partners cock. She was returning to normal breathing as I turned around, greeted her amazed face and kissed her. We talked about what I had just done to her, told her that there was no blood and how amazing her pussy was. I told her I would love to do it again, someday, when she might be ready. We cuddled, we kissed, and we played. She was feeling better as the alcohol effects were decreasing.
I heard the dryer buzzer go off and started to get off the bed to retrieve her now clean clothes. She grabbed my arm and said, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“I don’t think so.” I replied.
“Don’t your balls need emptying? Have I failed at giving you a case of blue balls?”