Aarons Lolita Ch 02

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hi to all my friends, fans and followers! I forgot how much I LOVE writing erotica...hope to do some more soon. Love y'all!

Hope you enjoy Aaron's next adventure with his Leila. I wanted to use this chapter to build not only their passion, but their real affection for one another. Hope it gets you off... To enjoy it fully, please read 'Aaron's Lolita' first.

*****

Two months, for fuck's sake. Two months, going on three. Sixty seven days. Hell, if he could have coughed up the number of hours, minutes and seconds since he'd had her, he would because he'd felt every damn one of them and he was feeling them now.

Sitting in his bedroom in darkness, Aaron stared through the open window and across to hers, his throbbing cock in one hand and a glass of bourbon in the other. That night—what had she said? "I know you want me...I know you've been watching me, Mister Wagner. Through the windows." And he was still watching. Or more correctly, waiting. Her room was dark; empty. Just as it had been for sixty-fucking-seven days.

The day after she'd come to him—and repeatedly cum for him, praise all the saints and anything else responsible for it—he'd been told by her father she'd left on a planned trip to her grandparents in Florida where she'd set up a summer job and she'd be back in the fall for college.

His first instinct had been to punch the shit out of John for fucking his wife but after giving it some thought he decided against it. Hell, if John was fucking her he could save all his cum for sweet little Leila so he'd let sleeping dogs lie—with each other.

He'd been angry with Leila. She'd known all along that she would be leaving him after that glorious evening. Leaving him wanting. It had taken him some time to get over that anger and turn it into resignation. She'd had her fun with him—and given him more pleasure than any man deserved in one lifetime—and gone on. Probably fucking some brainless 20-year old now.

The thought made him want to punch something—so he did. Leila had given him something he thought he'd lost and made him feel full of life again. So he'd taken that feeling and done something with it. Started working out; he could punch a boxing bag without feeling guilty. Got better at his job. Starting scoping out possible new fuck partners. While he did pretty well at the workouts and the job unfortunately he couldn't bring himself to touch anyone the way he'd touched her but he was sure that he'd find someone eventually. After all, he could hardly live on fantasies and his fist for the rest of his life.

Leaning his head back against the chair, he replayed that night in his head. It was the only thing he had of her now, just the memory of the night he'd been seduced by his angel, his cumslut. Leila. Remembering her hand on his cock as he shot his load onto her thighs and..."do it on my panties," she'd said. Growling deep in his throat, he nearly did the same on his own hand just thinking about it.

His cell phone rang.

Jumping as if he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar—or in this case on his dick—he put down the drink to answer the phone.

"What?" he snapped.

"Do you miss me?"

"Leila—" was all he could choke out. His cock swelled and throbbed as if it could hear that baby soft voice.

Holy fuck's sake. Miss her? Craving her. Dreaming about her. Jacking off on any and every part of her luscious body in one masturbation session after another—for two months.

She giggled. It was the sweetest sound—equal parts innocence and wickedness—and it sheared through his body like an electric whip. Without deciding to do it consciously he realized he'd started jerking off again.

"I know you do, Mister Wagner," she purred. I know what you're doing right now. I can hear you breathing hard. You're thinking about me. You're beating off that hard, beautiful cock I love so much, aren't you?

"Leila...yes. Fuck, yes." He closed his eyes, focusing on her voice; on the way she said 'cock.' The way she'd pumped him off that night. "Oh, sweet baby yes. FUCK YES I miss you."

"Mmm...oh, I know you do. Tell me what you're doing to me in your fantasy. Are you fucking me? I remember how you felt inside me. My first cock. My first fuck. Are you fucking me, Mister Wagner?"

His hand was pumping harder; faster, his hips sliding out to the edge of the chair. "Yes...yes, baby. I'm fucking you...so hot. So sweet. Your cunt is so tight, angel."

She moaned, as if she were feeling his dick deep inside her. "Ohhh...yes, Mister Wagner...yes...I want you to fuck me from behind. On my hands and knees like a little bitch. I want you to spank me for being a bad little whore while you do it."

Throwing his head back, his mouth open, gasping for breath he came, picturing her knees spread, his cock moving in and out of her hot pussy; one hand holding her hips in place, the other tangled in her fiery hair, pulling her head back, making her cum for him.

"Oh, yes cum for me," she breathed in his ear while he obeyed her willingly.

The orgasm hit him with a force he could never have achieved without her—not since her—and he shot his load, spasming over and over while she purred and made soft, sexy moaning sounds. And when he was able to breathe again he realized why.

She was getting herself off.

"That's my bad little girl," he groaned raggedly into the phone. "On her hands and knees just like a whore, desperate for a cock inside her. Begging for it."

She whimpered. Moaned. "Pretty please, Mister Wagner...fuck me. HARDER! Oh, god..."

"Yes, angel. I'm fucking you. Grabbing your hair, jerking your head back like the little bitch you are. My sweet baby...take my cock. Take it. You know you need it and I'm going to shove it up your tight little cunt—"

She came. He heard her gasp, could see her lying on some bed with her hand between her thighs, rubbing that slick, wet, tight little pussy, alternating finger fucking herself and focusing on her clit, hips rising off the bed as she orgasmed.

"I couldn't wait," she gasped. "I want you so bad and I tried to be good. I tried to wait but...oh, I think about you and it gets me so wet. I just couldn't wait."

Smiling, Aaron wished she were in his arms so he could smooth back her hair, kiss her softly; pet her creamy skin, draw imaginary lines from one light freckle to another and soothe her. "You've been a bad girl, Leila. I love it when you're bad...but I may have to punish you when you come home, baby. For leaving me."

"Mmm...oh yes please, Mister Wagner," she sighed.

And then she hung up.

"Leila—? SHIT!" He threw down the last of his drink, cleaned himself up and went to bed, sated for the moment. Her number was 'unknown' and when he hit redial he got some generic pre-recorded voicemail message. He sure as hell wasn't going to leave an X-rated message not knowing if it was going to her or if she'd used someone else's phone. He could only imagine the kind of shit storm he would cause if her sweet little old grandma heard some strange man begging her to come home and suck his dick.

The next morning, Saturday, he woke late. Despite having overslept he felt like ten million dollars. She missed him! 'I want you so bad and I tried to be good' she'd said. She still wanted him and she'd be back. Even though he assumed it wouldn't be for another 3 or 4 weeks when summer ended, he could wait. She was just that kind of amazing—a woman worth the wait.

After a few hours in the gym he came home and showered, watched a game then started cleaning up some spreadsheets for the office. While he was wrapping up, his phone vibrated on the desk. His hands were shaking when he saw 'unknown' in his text message list.

First message: 7:00

Second: tonite

Third: RJ's

Fourth: dress nice

Fifth: just watch

Last: until I say

"Sweet holy fuck." His cock swelled. She was already back. And while he wasn't generally one to take orders, he'd take the bait if it meant seeing her again. Touching her. Fucking her.

RJ's was an upscale dance club almost an hour away. Smart, he thought as he drove toward his destination. He wasn't heading there directly; first he planned to check in at the bed and breakfast he'd managed to book last-minute. It was off the beaten path, a place offering lakeside cottages and all the usual amenities. Just in case.

He arrived at the club almost fifteen minutes early. The place was already busy; the bar doing a brusque business. He managed to grab a seat against the wall at the end of the long L-shaped bar; from there he had a clear view of the bar and the dance floor. He ordered a drink. Scoped out every female on the floor; at the bar; walking through the door. At 7:12 when she arrived he nearly came out of his skin and his cock, which had already been granite hard in anticipation, throbbed almost painfully.

She saw him as soon as she came through the door, making brief eye contact and giving him the most delicious smile and a wink. She'd straightened her hair; it was piled in a very adult sort of knot high on the back of her head, with long strands hanging down around her face. She was wearing pink, for fuck's sake. A ridiculously short dress made of pink sequins with no sleeves; it was hanging on for dear life only by virtue of her breasts. Pink stockings with a dark pink seam up the back and pink heels with an ankle strap, glittering with pink and white crystals.

He started to get up; she frowned and gave him a little shake of her head. Then she turned as someone came in the door behind her and Aaron sat back down hard. She was with someone—one of those brainless 20 year olds, no doubt—and he wanted to get up and rip the motherfucker's head from his body.

She walked by him.

Looked directly at him.

Licked her wet, bright pink lips.

In his head he could almost hear a carnival barker's voice coming over a loudspeaker.

"Keep your arms and legs inside at all times, ladies and gentlemen, and enjoy the ride!"

As she passed, the kid had his hands on her waist and she led him to the dance floor, staying at the edge of the crowd where Aaron could see everything. She started by getting into the music, lifting her arms up and gyrating her hips. She moved like a cat—sleek, sexy and deadly—and Aaron forgot about the asshole dancing with her as he focused on her, sipping bourbon on the rocks and knowing from the glances she threw him constantly that he'd be getting his rocks off tonight. He could almost hear the Hallelujah chorus on the soundtrack of this staged production.

He sat back, ordered another drink, admiring his girl—HIS girl, dammit. She flirted with the date, touching him, smiling, licking her lips, all the while checking to make sure Aaron was watching. At one point she turned her back to the boy, pushing her ass into his groin, reaching behind her to wrap her hand around the back of his neck while he slid his hands around her, one on her waist, the other on her hip. Aaron's knuckles went white watching that hand slide down to her thigh but he apparently didn't have the balls—or the sense—to go for that hot wet place between her thighs.

After three songs Leila took the boy's hand, leading him toward the bar. Shoving herself between Aaron and the woman at the next barstool, she waved at the bartender.

"What're you having, baby?" she asked the boy. He was standing behind her, asked for a beer.

Pussy.

When the bartender showed up she ordered for the boy and, leaning on the bar with crossed arms, she pressed her tits against her arms, nearly showing off her nipples.

"Hmm...what do I want?" she sighed. Then she looked at Aaron. "What do you think I'd like, gorgeous?"

Aaron smiled back at her, playing along. "Oh I think you would enjoy a Sex on the Beach, beautiful. Or maybe a Strawberry Blowjob?"

"Mmm...think so?" She put her hand on his arm; her nails were all hard pink and adorned with rhinestones. "Oooo...somebody works out," she added as she slid her hand up his bicep to his shoulder. "That's so sexy. So sexy I think I'll cum in my panties." She giggled. "I mean I've have a Cum in my Panties." Looking at the bartender she said "Can you handle that for me?"

With an expression that clearly said he'd be more than happy to make her cum in her panties, the bartender winked at her and went off to make her chosen drink.

Turning her back to the bar, she propped her elbows on the bar behind her, again emphasizing her breasts. She faced the boy who looked more than a little irritated at her flirting. "What's wrong with you?" she asked him. "Don't you think I should be entitled to a cum in my panties when I want one?"

"Geez, Lay...do you have to act like a whore?"

"Oh no," she said slyly. "I don't have to. I want to." With that she pulled her arms off the bar, moving slightly forward to stand immediately next to Aaron's chair. While Aaron worked hard to nurse his drink and act as if he were ignoring them, she slipped her right hand onto his thigh without being seen. "You got a problem with that, Jaxson?"

"Yeah, I do," he snapped back. "Why don't you just lay down on the bar and spread your legs for any asshole who wants to fuck you?"

Leila's hand slid higher, cupping his cock. Aaron choked on a sip of bourbon, covering the sound with his fist as if he'd just been coughing.

"Well now there's an idea," she replied, turning her head to smile at Aaron. "What about you, darlin'? If I hopped up on the bar and spread my legs would you get in line to fuck me?"

"Oh for shit's sake, Lay. He's old enough to be your father."

"Yeah? So what? I'll bet he knows a whole lot about satisfying a woman. Maybe I should take him home and find out."

Aaron was trying to keep himself from cumming while she strummed his cock through his clothes. He'd jerked off before leaving home to make sure he could last longer their first go this time but that wasn't helping him now. He could smell her; lilac, rose and sugar with an edge of spice—the same scent she'd worn their first night. It was a powerful reminder of what they'd done together.

"Get the drinks," she told the boy. Then she grabbed Aaron's arm. "And you come dance with me, gorgeous."

Ignoring her date's protest, Leila didn't have to pull Aaron from his chair; he took her hand, moving to the dance floor with her slightly behind, leaving the boy to his regrets. He didn't stop at the edge of the floor; he pulled her deep into the throng of dancers and jerked her into his arms.

"Oh!" Slamming into his chest, she slipped her arms around his neck and began swaying sensually to the slow rhythm. Then she smiled. "Miss me?" she whispered.

He tried to kiss her; she turned her head to whisper in his ear. "No, no, Mister Wagner. I don't let strange men kiss me. Fuck me, maybe...but no kissing."

"Leila—" What happened to his sweet, innocent little virgin girl? Oh yeah...he fucked her. So the young woman in his arms was only a siren and a tease because he'd sent her off on that tangent. He would never regret that.

She slid her hands down his chest. RJ's was an upscale place so he'd done what she asked and wore black trousers, a crisp white shirt open just at the throat and black jacket. As she felt along his chest to his abdomen, sliding her hands under his jacket to his back she raised a brow. "Oh, my...you have been working out, haven't you, Mister Wagner? Guess you had all that pent up frustration, hmm?"

"Baby, let's get out of here." He bent down to kiss her throat, slid one hand down to cup her ass and she moaned for him, grinding her hips into his.

"But I'm just getting warmed up. You want me nice and warm before you take me home and fuck me, don't you, Mister Wagner?"

"You know I do, baby, but I swear if you keep pushing me I may have to drag you out to my car and start there."

She laughed, a purely feminine sound of pleasure. "Mmm...that would be...three."

"Three?"

"Don't you remember? We both got off twice that night." The music changed, a deep, bass beat with a slow, grinding tempo. "Maybe we should go," she whispered in his ear, sounding more like the sweetly sexy but hesitant Lolita he'd had in his living room so many weeks ago.

"Whatever you want, baby girl."

Stepping back from him she smiled and it lit up his world like ten thousand sparks. "I know. I wanna get my drink...and then I want you." And with that she disappeared into the crowd.

Walking back to the bar Aaron could see that the couple who had been sitting next to him were gone and the boy had taken one of their barstools; Leila was on the other, immediately next to him. He slipped back into his seat and signaled the bartender for another round, again doing his best to pretend to ignore them. Despite that, he was keenly aware of the way Leila was sitting, with the heels of her shoes caught on a high rung of the barstool's foot rests so her knees were up, her lap level and the hem of that punky pink dress more than halfway up those delicious thighs.

The boy immediately started griping at Leila for leaving him, nursing his beer. He gave Aaron a scathing look and put his hand on her right thigh, as if to claim Leila as his.

Aaron just smiled, took a long sip of bourbon, and kept smiling as he turned his head away, just thinking about what he'd be doing later—and what the boy would definitely NOT be doing.

Leila plucked the cherry from the mound of whipped cream at the top of her drink, sliding it between her pretty pink lips and snapping it off the stem, the tip of her tongue darting out to lick up a bit of the white cream from the corner of her mouth. She winked at Aaron, taking a sip of the drink.

"Lay, c'mon. I'm sorry," the boy said in his best seductive voice. He started sliding his hand up her thigh then back to her knee...back up her thigh, pushing the hem of her dress a little higher.

Turning to her date, Leila started flirting with him, touching him and giggling seductively. Aaron kept the boy's hand in his peripheral vision, tightening his jaw as the hand slipped down between her thighs, the tips of his fingers disappearing under the dress. He saw Leila squeeze her thigh together and squirm a little, as if she were enjoying the attention.

FUCK.

Then she gasped, shoving the hand away and slapping the boy square in his jaw.

That's my girl, Aaron thought with a wry smile.

"You pervert!" she snapped. "Is that all you want? I thought you liked me." And with that she told the boy loudly that she was going to the ladies room and he'd better think twice about how he was going to treat her before she got back. Then she slipped down from the barstool, turning to Aaron and mouthing the word 'phone' before she disappeared back into the crowd.

Another few sips of bourbon went down smooth as silk. Aaron could practically feel the frustration coming from the kid, and almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

His phone vibrated. A text from 'unknown.'

'get my wrap-coat room-then outside'

Finishing off the last of his drink, Aaron nodded to the bartender. When he came over, Aaron handed him a hundred. "For me," he said, "and the young lady. Keep the rest." And he started to the coat room.

At the coat room counter there was a girl of about 20 sporting a short black haircut and a whole lot of jewelry, including a diamond-encrusted nose ring. Before he could say anything she looked him up-and-down from his head to his belt buckle and back again.

"You Leila's guy?"

Holy shit, that sounded good. "Yeah."

She shrugged and flipped her thumb over her left shoulder. "Back there."

"Sorry?"

Looking at him as if he had no clue, she opened the door to the coat room and said quietly, "In the back, dad. That way. Take it or leave it." As he moved past her she added, "If I were you, I'd take it. Twice." And then she put an "on break" sign on the counter and left.