Ken remembered the day he met her- it had been a long, hard day, and his clients had proven particularly annoying, even more so than usual. Mrs. Clements, for instance, was something Ken liked to refer to as "first rate bitch." Her voice had a habit of piercing his skull and echoing like the aggravated caw of a crow, and she had been particularly shrill that day. Nothing would ever be enough for her- the rich cunt- no matter how generous her ex-husband might be.
Briefcase in hand, his mind on a few cold beers, Ken walked into the kitchen and saw his wife, Helen, seated at the table with a stunning blonde girl. At the time, she- the girl- was only sixteen, but even then, Ken was struck by her beauty: the sun gleaming through her golden curls; her fair, unblemished skin; her cold blue eyes.
Behind her eyes was something else that attracted him, something not easily put into words, something he mistook for intelligence and maturity.
"We have a new babysitter," Helen explained, noticing Ken in the doorway. Her smile demonstrated just how impressed Helen was by the girl. It spread from ear-to-ear. Ken knew that smile well if only for its rarity. Helen must have been very pleased with her find.
"Angelica," the girl said and held out her hand. That was her name. "Angel, for short."
Two and a half years later, it had become something of a routine for Ken to come home and fuck Angelica, Angel, for short.
Today, however, he meant to end it.
The girl had become attached. Maybe this was partially Ken's fault, but what was the girl thinking? As if this 'relationship' could go anywhere. Helen worked P.R. for the mayor. Angelica was fresh out of high school. Put two-and-two together: if he pissed Helen off, she would smear him all across town. Ken could kiss his career goodbye. He'd be known as a horny, cheating, thirty-something pedophile. The fact that Angelica was over eighteen wouldn't make a difference. She had just finished high school. That would be close enough to the line for most people in town.
Yes, but Ken had told the girl that he loved her. This was mostly just to keep a good thing going. How many men wouldn't do the same when faced with a temptation like Angelica? Maybe this made him a scumbag, but he was a lawyer. He had heard that scumbag thing before.
Ken gathered himself at the front door. The metal of the door latch in his hand felt hot. It had baked in the late spring sun all day, and Ken didn't wait long before he pulled it down and entered the cool interior of his home.
Sunlight streamed through the windows and cast square patterns of yellow onto the carpet. The overhead fan whirred and circled above him. The sun from the skylights filtered through the fan's blades, creating a flickering strobe-light effect.
Inside, Angel waited for him. She wore a short, red-and-black-checkered skirt with a matching tie over a crisp, white blouse. The blouse was unbuttoned to expose a generous portion of the girl's swelling bosom. Her long legs were tanned and muscular. She had played tennis on the high school team before graduation. Angel's rich blonde hair was pulled back into ponytails, and her pouting lips were red with lipstick.
"Welcome home, honey," she purred.
Ken felt beads of sweat peppering his forehead, and he knew it was not all due to the May heat.
Despite his best intentions to suppress it, Ken felt a swelling at his groin.
"Uh... hi," he croaked. Everything he had planned to say was suddenly lost to him.
***
She guided him upstairs, her hand on the bulge of his pants. Ken wanted to open his mouth to stop her; tell her it was all over, explain that this must not happen.
But he didn't.
Watching from a haze- dizzy and lightheaded-, Ken felt a certain sense of detachment as Angelica went to her knees before him. Spears of bright, orange light criss-crossed through the half-closed blinds, and he was struck by the blue clarity of her eyes, the perfect smoothness of her ivory skin. The cool air of the fan above rustled his hair, and heat emanated from his body, balancing each other like yin-and-yang; but the warmth was slowly and steadily winning out.
The girl unlatched his leather belt, unbuttoned the crotch of his trousers, and slid out Ken's engorged cock with expert ease. She exhibited none of Helen's hesitant inhibitions. Her slender fingers wrapped around his fleshy girth and began stroking him.
Shivers scurried up Ken's spine, and Angelica must have already known the answer when she asked with a sultry whisper, "Is this what you've wanted all day?"
Ken gave a low moan from the back of his throat.
Accepting this answer, Angelica slipped her lips over the hood of his erect cock. Her mouth was warm and wet. Ken sighed. He watched- again feeling detached, voyeuristic, as if this wasn't happening to him but to some other person, memorizing the details, half wondering if this was the very last time- as her red lips moved up and down the length of his shaft; his cock twitched as he watched her pigtails bob and her tongue lap at the swell of his balls.
Ken tired of waiting. Foreplay was not his forte. He took Angelica by the shoulders and tossed her on the bed. Her pigtails bounced. Her breasts heaved under the tight fabric of her uniform. Savagely, Ken threw up the girl's skirt, gripped her panties at the waist and ripped them off her legs.
"Yes, yes, take me," she beckoned.
Positioning himself over her, Ken guided his throbbing cock with his right hand and groped at the girl's breasts with his left. Then, gritting his teeth and uttering a barbaric grunt, he impaled her with an arcing thrust.
So much for ending it.
The world quickened on its axis. Time became fluid.
Ken became lost in the pumping and gnashing and sweating and the flexing of her abdomen and the heavy sighing of the young, perky flesh under him.
Just before he came, she pulled free of him, and he fell backwards on the flowery bed spread.
She moved on top of him, riding him slow, leaning back, his hands on her hips and his eyes greedily suckling the sight of her. The skirt of her uniform brushed against his thighs. The orbs of her breasts went up and down and up and down, her nipples: pink, protruding pleasures.
She faked her orgasm admirably. Angelica would have made a perfect porn starlet. She had just the right mixture of innocent looks and deviant sleaziness. As she pretended to cum, she nibbled her bottom lip, gyrated, and squealed. Ken assumed he'd given her another satisfactory ride.
He pushed her off and then gripped her skirt as he bent her over the bed, watching her ass ripple as he proceeded to pump and plow and spank. Her head flung back, her pigtails swaying and swinging like braided whips.
Then his cock- throbbing and jerking in electric, liquid spasms- flung jets of white, hot cum across the curve of her back, and Ken felt the world tilt, twirl, and stop.
