Judy Grant began spending a lot of nights with her mother. This provided her eighteen-year-old friend Danielle plenty of opportunities to be alone with Mr. Grant.
Over the following months the older man introduced the pretty brunette to a world of sexual adventures and pleasures. Sometimes he was rough and demanding; throwing her across his bed or the coffee table and taking her with animalistic fervor, calling her a dirty slut and howling about how she loved cock. Other times he showered her body with delicate kisses before gently penetrating her, telling her she was beautiful and calling her a sweet girl. They made love in his tile and glass shower. They fucked on the desk in his home office.
Through some awkward missteps and failures she learned how to give a quality blow-job, discovering along the way that she enjoyed it. Her sex would grow wet while she slid her lips along his rigid shaft and sometimes she fingered herself to orgasm just before he exploded in her mouth.
One night he presented her with a vibrator, then watched her use it on herself.
He also introduced her to anal sex.
No matter the place or the escapade, the girl reveled in the experiences; quaking through multiple, explosive orgasms and routinely finding herself trembling and breathless afterwards.
She'd learned long ago that guys appreciated a girl in a school uniform, and Mr. Grant was no exception. He especially liked a top she found that was from her freshman year and was now a bit small on her, its crisp white material was strained by her pert, young breasts. Since she couldn't wear it to school she left it at his place where she'd change into it if the evening warranted. He also liked it when she wore either frilly Barbie-socks or thigh-high white stockings.
She was wearing the little Barbie-socks one Friday evening when she arrived to find he had company.
"Hey Sweetie," he greeted her at the door.
She discreetly waited until he'd shut the door behind her to reach up on her tiptoes and kiss him passionately, her body leaning into his.
"Listen, Joe and Ken are here," he informed her after their lips parted. "And Bill's gonna be coming by too. It's about a special project I've been working on."
"Oh? How long do you think you'll be?" She pouted, unhappy with the idea of having to wait for his undivided attention.
"It's probably gonna be a while," he cupped her ass through her skirt, pulling her into him.
Danielle had met her lover's friends previously. Usually when they were over she'd simply disappear into the bedroom and amuse herself until they left. But she had spent a few times sitting with them all, listening to their conversations and generally being bored.
It turned out that this time Mr. Grant wanted her to join them.
"Why don't you change your top and hang out with us," he said.
Leaning back she gazed up into his face, her head quizzically tilted slightly, her thick hair swayed with the action. He was smirking mischievously. She assumed it meant that he merely wished to have a little fun with his friends. That he simply wanted to tease them. She knew he enjoyed showing off - or more accurately - showing HER off. He delighted in his friend's envy. But only he had ever seen her in the too-small top.
Now he was asking her to wear it in front of these other men.
Beyond his mischievous smirk his eye had an excited spark. She couldn't interpret that, but it did make her heart race and her breath catch.
"Um... Ok," she finally whispered.
After another passionate kiss they separated and Danielle stepped into the living room. When she did both men stood up from their seats to greet her, their smiles genuine, their eyes enthusiastic.
"Hello Mr. Craig, Mr. Stone," she said while their gazes crawled over her body. She was always a little nervous in these moments, when her lover's friends would devour her with their eyes. But when Mr. Grant stepped up beside her and rested his hand on the small of her back it calmed her slightly. "Won't you all excuse me for a minute? I need to... um..." she hesitated, unsure of what to say. She didn't want to tell them she was going to change, but she didn't know what else she could say. "I'll be right back," she finally stammered.
As she walked through the living room, past the men and into the hall, she felt their eyes follow her. Felt them admiring the way her skirt covered the small orb that was her ass.
Her freshly laundered top was right where it always was, hanging in the master bedroom closet. Putting it on she remembered she'd never worn a bra with it before. She quickly realized why too. She couldn't. The top was so tight that with any extra padding - even the thin layer of her simplest bra - kept her from hooking any of the upper buttons. So she had to either go with her bra-encased breasts near fully exposed. Or wear it like usual - braless. This made the outline of her breasts obvious beneath the stretched material, which was the majority of the reason Mr. Grant liked it so much. Either way the men would be getting quite an image. Wrestling with the options she decided to skip the bra since it seemed that likely be what Mr. Grant expected.
She still didn't understand why he wanted her wearing it now . . . in front of his friends.
Suddenly she felt a rush as her flesh began to simmer gently and she realized it was the idea of these other men seeing her in the outfit that was causing her body to react so. For a moment she stood there trying to understand her reaction, but like Mr. Grant asking her to do it in the first place, she couldn't explain it.
So she took a few deep breaths, bracing herself. Then she headed back to the living room.
Her return was greeted with enthusiasm. All three men stood and watched her walk over to stand beside Mr. Grant. Her cheeks reddened as six eyes devoured the sight of her taxed blouse.
Beaming with pride Mr. Grant slipped an arm around her. His fingers gently held her arm so that when they sat down on the couch he forced her to sit facing straight ahead. Meanwhile the arm behind her back compelled her to jut her chest out, effectively offering his friends with an enhanced display.
A fact they didn't fail to notice. Or enjoy. Sitting in chairs across from the couch, the coffee table between them, they openly admired her.
Their attentions kept Danielle's cheeks rosy with color even as she tried to ignore them.
She'd always been aware of their admiring glances, but they had been just that . . . glances. Gazes that lingered for an extra moment before being redirected. But today their gazes were not being redirected. No. Their eyes were openly crawling over her again and again.
She found herself revisiting a thought she'd had after meeting each of them; would she date, or more honestly sleep with them? While neither of the men were exactly hunks, they were good looking and in shape and she had to admit to herself that had either of them been her friend's father that day some months earlier...
The line of thought was interrupted by the doorbell.
Danielle's heartbeat suddenly leapt ahead a few beats. Of his friends, Mr. Kole was the best looking. In fact he was nearly as handsome as Mr. Grant himself and she'd developed a little crush on him.
Entering the room Mr. Kole's eyes instantly tracked to her. "Danielle, you're as beautiful as ever," his smile reflected the admiration in his gaze.
"Thank you, Sir," she whispered, her own gaze dropping, her cheeks darkening.
"Drink?" Mr. Grant indicated the bar.
With a glass in hand Mr. Kole took a seat in a third chair while the others caught him up on their discussion.
Danielle again tried to focus on the conversation, but was again sidetracked by the sense that at least one pair of eyes was staring at her each and every second. The idea that she was on display made her stare at the floor and chew on her lip nervously. After a few minutes she also started to uncross and re-cross her legs.
Although the attention was a little disconcerting, it also managed to awaken a certain kind of warmth deep within her. This sensation coupled with a coolness in the air caused her nipples to start hardening and she soon realized the men were being provided a much more provocative image than just the blouse straining against her breasts.
She didn't need to look up to know they were admiring this development and her cheeks' blush deepened. She suddenly felt extremely nervous and uncomfortable. Jumping up she excused herself then rushed out of the room.
Alone in the bathroom she tried to make sense of all the questions she had:
What was Mr. Grant doing? Why'd he have her change into the special top? Why was he so proudly displaying her for his friends? Yes, he'd showed her off before, but nothing like this. He'd never actually displayed her. And why was she even slightly aroused by it?
These questions and thoughts - and other variations on them - looped through her mind again and again with no exit, nor answers, in sight.
Mr. Grant was waiting outside the bathroom when she opened the door.
"Oh!" She yelped quietly in surprise.
"How you doing, Sweetie?" he whispered, slipping his hands onto her waist.
"I - I'm okay. Just a little bored," she partially lied.
"Yea, I know," he chuckled. "Let's leave the guys to themselves for a few minutes. Come here." He led her into his office, swinging the door shut behind them.
Pulling her to him, he leaned down while she raised up on her toes. Their lips met, parted. Their tongues swirled together. She reached her arms up, lacing her fingers behind his neck. She melted into him, her body molding against his. His hands roamed over her back and sides.
Danielle had spent the entire day anticipating the moment when she would be in his arms so her embers had already been smoldering long before arriving at his home. Now tropical gusts blew across those embers, sending their heat radiating out to make her flesh simmer. Sighing into their kiss she pressed herself harder against him.
Mimicking her building desire he pulled her to him as well.
When they separated she dropped from her tiptoes and leaned in to rest her head against his chest with a heavy sigh. For a minute they stood there; his arms holding her, hands rubbing her body.
Then he pulled away.
Taking her hand he led her across the room to the couch sitting against one wall.
"What about your friends?" She whispered.
