Immoral Counseling

Author's Note: All characters are 18 years of age or older.

Water splashed up onto the concrete as Hannah dived into her backyard pool. Reclining on a green, plastic lounge chair, Lacy jerked her feet up away from the splash zone. At last, spring break had arrived, and with it, a teaser preview of summer days spent with her two besties. Hannah's long auburn hair emerged from the rippling surface. Hoisting herself up onto the edge of the pool, she dangled her feet in the water -- long, toned, perfectly smooth legs shining in the sun. Her itty-bitty bikini was little more than three hot pink triangles connected by string. The top barely covered her large, perky 34C boobs.

"You getting in, or you gonna stay on your phone?" Hannah asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Getting in," Lacy replied, pushing her long sandy blonde hair back. She wore a cute, two-piece bikini that faded in a smooth gradient from bright yellow to deep sea green. "Just got a text from my mom."

"She staying out late again?"

"Yeah, for some big, crazy work project."

"You can stay over for dinner if you want. My mom won't care."

"Nah, it's cool. Thanks, though."

Lacy set her phone down on the patio table and finished rubbing sunscreen on her arms as Hannah walked over and took another sip from her lemonade. She handed the bottle to Lacy who nearly spat it back out.

"What the fuck, Hannah? Is there vodka in this?"

"Yeah, it's ~HARD~ lemonade," she said with a grin. Lacy took another sip. It wasn't bad.

"I didn't think we were getting turnt today."

"We're not -- just a little tipsy is all. Gotta cut loose, enjoy our spring break."

Lacy laughed and handed the bottle back. While Hannah took a swig, they heard the backdoor open behind them and turned to see Becca walking out with a big yellow floaty wearing a long light blue shirt. Her shoulder-length brown hair framed her cute, round face.

"Oh my god," Hannah exclaimed, "you are NOT wearing that, Becca."

"What? I don't wanna get sunburned."

"Babe, I'll rub sunscreen on you any time."

"It's just us here, Becca," Lacy cut in. "What're you worrying for?"

"I'm not worried, honestly."

"Lacy's right. Show us that beautiful body."

Hannah padded over to where Becca was standing and pulled at the hem of her oversized shirt.

"Hannah, quit!" she squealed. "Lacy, HELP ME, she's gone nuts."

Lacy laughed and walked over to them, but instead of rescuing Becca, she helped Hannah yank the top up and over the brunette's head. Underneath, Becca wore a modest navy two-piece with white polka dots.

"There's our sexy girl," Hannah said and brushed her hand up Becca's soft, flabby tummy and groped a perky 34B-cup boob.

"Stop that," Becca gasped, batting her hand away. "You become such a horny perv whenever you haven't seen your boyfriend in a while."

"Just reminding you, you're beautiful. If I were a dude, my hands'd be all over you non-stop."

Hannah teasingly reached for Becca's juicy ass, but the chubby teen successfully deflected her hand, turning away from her. Instead, Hannah managed to wrap her arms around the other girl and hugged her from behind. Lacy watched her friends and smiled. This is exactly what she needed -- a day with the girls, no school, no cares. Especially after dealing with stupid Weaver for the past two weeks. With a shudder of revulsion, she forced all thought of him out of her mind.

"Hannah, you turn into such a bi slut when Becca's involved."

"Just a little," she replied with a grin over Becca's shoulder. She gave one of her tits a honk, and Becca pushed her off, retreating to the safety of the pool. Lacy and Hannah joined her. While Hannah lounged on a long, white and purple inflatable, Lacy floated on her back amidst the gentle waves.

"How're things going with Mr. Weaver?" Becca asked as she laid back in her tube. "Are you making up a lot of assignments?"

"Ugh, don't even mention him. I'm sick of his ugly, old face!"

"I thought you got along pretty well," Hannah said.

"We do, but it's different when I'm having to stay after school in his office twice a week. I'm just tired of working so hard and having him ride my ass about it."

Of course, that was just a cover -- she could never reveal the truth to them. She couldn't tell them how hard he was really working her. How he was literally riding her ass. How he was regularly bending her over his desk and pounding her pussy from behind. And always raw because the asshole refused to wear a condom! Over the past two weeks, he'd had her a half-dozen times, and each time, their coupling left her a shattered mess. The thought made her stomach turn, but an involuntary thrill shimmered through her. Nipples standing at attention, pussy moistening. God, how could that fat, ugly bastard be so good at fucking?

Weirdly, that wasn't the worst part. Ok, it was, but it wasn't her only problem. Though she hadn't thought of them as close, Weaver'd been a fixture in her life since freshman year. Sure, it was his job, but he invested in her, helped her with her goals and ambitions. During the divorce, his support and encouragement provided stability when she most needed it. Even now, their twice weekly meetings started not with sex but a review of her progress and outstanding assignments. How could all that have been a lie, a front? No way! She refused to accept that it was all an act. But if he'd been genuine before, how could she reconcile that with his callous mistreatment of her now? It was baffling. Just thinking about it stressed her out.

"Hopefully you'll be done soon," Becca said, and Lacy agreed. To her relief, they changed the subject not long after.

The trio swam and lounged in and around the pool for a couple hours. Their conversation meandered between topics, including a big party on Friday at their classmate McKayla's house. Hannah planned to go with her boyfriend Jason, but Lacy and Becca weren't interested. Nothing against her, they just weren't close. By mid afternoon, they were starving and decided to walk to a nearby strip mall. They didn't bother dressing -- though Lacy did put on a thin, unbuttoned shirt and tied the front together in a bow. Hannah convinced Becca not to put the big shirt back on, so she settled on a lose cut-off top that left her exposed from the navel down. Hannah went in just her bikini and sandals, showing off her fit, busty physique.

They ate burgers at a walk-in Americana place styled like a 50s diner. Hannah brought the lemonade with them, and while munching on fries and burgers, they passed the bottle around the booth. At one point, Hannah started making out with Becca, and it took the thick girl a second to register and push her away -- which made Lacy laugh. Afterward, they visited a specialty handcrafted ice cream parlor that used liquid nitrogen. The teens sat on the patio with their frozen treats and watched cars pass. Once the ice cream was gone, they spent another hour browsing the shops before it was time to head back. Lacy decided to stay rather than go home to her empty house.

"Just have dinner with us, babe," Hannah said, lisping slightly. They'd long since finished the bottle of lemonade and were all more than a little tipsy. "You know my mom loves you."

"Seriously, it's fine. I just wanna have a chill night in."

She loved Hannah's mom, but the way she tended to fuss over her was exhausting. She had enough to deal with already.

"Oh, is Simon coming over?" Becca wondered aloud.

Lacy tried not to let it show in her expression, but she actually hadn't seen much of Simon lately. Between her regular office sessions with Weaver and all the extra work on her plate, the last she'd spent any real time with him was the quickie that started this whole mess.

"Nah, he's with his dad, but he'll be back tomorrow."

Hannah grinned suggestively at her.

"Oh my god, Becca's right -- you're such a horny perv sometimes. You need to get laid."

"But Jason's not here! Unless Becca wants to volunteer her services -- I always thought her sexy mouth would look good on my cooch."

Hannah tried again to kiss her chubby friend's soft lips, but Becca pushed her off. The trio devolved into fits of laughter. They exchanged a few more pleasantries before the two girls left.

Lacy sat on the edge of a brown brick planter near the sidewalk scrolling her phone. Simon wasn't responding to her texts. The early evening sun sat low over the buildings, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. While she tip-tapped the glowing glass rectangle searching for dinner, a gray sedan rolled to a stop near her. Absorbed by her device, she didn't even notice at first.

"Need a ride?"

The voice startled her and made her skin crawl. She'd know it anywhere, heard it even in her sleep. When she looked up, Weaver peered at her through the passenger side window.

"Why're you even here? There's no one on Earth I'd rather see less than you."

"Melodrama doesn't suit you," he replied. "Where're your friends?"

"What makes you think they were here?"

"Educated guess."

"They had to leave -- not that it's any of your business."

He noticed the light sway of her shoulders, the nearly imperceptible slur when she talked.

"Claire working late tonight?"

"Also not your business. Will you just leave me alone? Don't make me scream."

"Does she know you've been drinking?"

"Shut up!" Lacy snapped. "I told you to leave me alone. I'm gonna scream."

"No, you won't. Get in the car."

The demand caught her off guard, and her mouth fell open in shock.

"No way, not in a million years."

"It's not a request, Lacy. Think your mother'll be pleased you've been out getting drunk? Get in the car."

"I'm not drunk!"

"We can let Claire decide."

She pursed her lips.

"Fine."

As she slid into the passenger seat, she felt Weaver's lecherous eyes roam over her scantily-clad body. She glared at him and crossed her arms over her chest, wishing she'd at least put on some shorts. The pout in her lip and the sternness in her eyes bemused him. No matter how she scrunched up her pretty face she was breathtaking. Her curves, her golden tresses, her cobalt blue eyes. Women the world over paid to have what genetics blessed her with. He switched the car back into drive, and they rolled away from the strip center. When he turned away from her neighborhood, she got worried.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked.

"To dinner, at my place."

"Why? I know what you're after. Can't we just do it in your back seat and then you take me home?"

"We could, but I'm hungry. Ever had baked lemon herb tilapia? It's guaranteed to be better than whatever fast food slop you were gonna order."

It did sound delicious, but she wasn't happy about being strong-armed into going home with him. No matter what he said, she knew what he'd want from her later. What he always wanted. Dinner was just a pretext to get her alone in his apartment. She could already picture him bending her over his dining table, making her pay for dinner with her body. His rough hands on her soft tits, fat belly slapping against her ass. Huge, hard cock stretching her tight pussy. Despite her disgust, her traitorous cunt drooled at the thought. She clenched her jaw.

"Whatever," she replied, watching the buildings zip past. Like the bars of a cell sliding shut.

Though small, his apartment was warm and homey. A round dark wood dining table sat near the tiny kitchen, and a large flat-screen hung on the wall across from a plush teal couch and glass coffee table. Framed nature prints decorating the walls and a few potted plants scattered about added life and color to the place. A photograph of a woman -- perhaps his mother or sister -- sat on the bar next to a green ceramic dish where he kept his keys and wallet. She didn't bother checking out his bedroom. She assumed she'd see it soon enough.

After putting away the groceries, he started on dinner. Lacy helped by chopping and seasoning the veggies. Time zoomed by. Half an hour later, they were seated and eating. He paired their meal with a white Cava Brut wine, which was just sweet enough for her to tolerate. Astonishingly, Weaver wasn't a half-bad cook. As they ate, he attempted to initiate a conversation, but Lact was even more tight-lipped than usual. Being alone with the old bastard in his apartment made her anxious. The wine helped to calm her nerves, and she finished the glass.

When the food was gone, she helped him carry their dishes to the sink. While she rinsed her plate, Weaver stepped up behind her. She flinched as he leaned over her to shut off the water. The busty teen shook like a leaf, braced against the counter, heart thudding in her chest. Over the past two weeks, he'd taken her many times, but this was different. She felt trapped and overwhelmed. The wine that calmed her frazzled nerves before made her dizzy now. Her breath caught in her throat as strong hands encircled her slender waist. His lips on her neck and shoulder, body pressed into hers from behind.

"I guess I can't say no," she whimpered. His hands swept up the flat of her stomach to her big, soft breasts, fingers pressing into the supple flesh. Her bikini protected her not at all.

"You could," he whispered, brushing her hair back from her face and tucking it behind her ear, "but it wouldn't matter."

He lifted her fat tits and slid her bikini cups aside. Exposing her hard, pink nubs and the wide areolas surrounding them. Skilled fingers teased her nipples to full hardness, pulling them out from her body. Hoisting the heavy orbs up by her tender points, stretching them deliciously. She trembled in his arms, chewing her bottom lip. Hands clinging to the counter top. Panting with shallow breaths. Though she fought against it, dampness spilled down her bare, clenched thighs.

"Please stop," she begged, even as the pain in her boobs sent tremors of pure lust down to her moist snatch.

"I don't think you really want me to," he replied, lips kissing a receptive spot below her ear.

Without warning, his hand rushed down her body. Fingers intruding under the waistband of her bottoms, finding and stroking her tender button. A raspy breath quivered out of her open mouth. Lacy tipped her head back against his broad chest, quaky thighs clamping around his hand. She reviled him, hated the feel of his hands on her body, his breath on her neck, but god did he know how to work her. Two weeks and he already knew her body better than she knew it herself. His fingertips played over her delicate folds -- his other hand pawing her warm, luscious globe. As a fat finger nudged its way into her opening, she tried to wriggle free of his grasp. Slender fingers grabbing at his wrist. A futile attempt to halt his invasion of her intimacy.

"Little slut, strutting around with barely a stitch of fabric on you."

"I'm not a slut."

"Fooled me, showing off like this. Going around basically naked."

"I wasn't showing off," she whimpered, pressing back against him unconsciously.

Lacy was powerless in his arms. His hands and fingers transgressing on her soft skin. While his one hand fondled her sensitive melons, he tugged on the string at her hip with the other. Her bottoms fell open, exposing her moist slit. The musk of her arousal filled the air, mixed with the smell of sweat and chlorine. Before she could stop him, his hand cupped her bare, molten sex and squeezed her there. A big handful of her wet, puffy mound. His fingers curled into her crevice, scratching along her delicate petals. Sending sparks of pleasure through her body. Her mouth hung open as she panted and moaned, her head swimming in a daze of helpless lust.

"God, you're hot in this," he groaned in her ear. "You must've been wanting it."

"Stop! I didn't come here for this."

"You knew," he said, his hand squeezing her tit harshly, fingers digging in until she whimpered in pain.

While she mewled and trembled, his fingers stroked along her soft, smelly pussy, circled her engorged clit. His other hand kneaded the smooth, elastic flesh of her breast. Thumb and forefinger tweaking her pert nipple almost painfully. Her hips tipped back into his hand. She felt heat roiling in her core, felt herself melting for him. Sweet honey spilling from her nether lips. Flushed from her chest to her cheeks, eyes hooded and glassy. While he molested her breast and cunny, his lips left trails of butterfly kisses on her neck and shoulder. Her head tipped forward, hair falling around to the front, exposing more of her to him. He kissed her upper back between her shoulder blades, felt how she quivered. Her legs parted involuntarily, body opening up to him. It felt so good. The way he teased and caressed her with his coarse hands, his nimble fingertips. His warm, wet lips softly kissing. Touching her so intimately. No one had ever touched her like this before, and she felt like wet clay in his skilled hands.

"Tell me you want this," he said, his voice coiling around her like wisps of smoke.

"Never," she breathed.

She was bending over now. Dropping to her elbows, head down, hair falling into the sink. Her back arched with a deep moan as his fingers scraped along her simmering tunnel. The pad of his thumb pressed against her little brown star, and she shuddered at the unfamiliar sensation. Electricity sparked through her from her virgin pucker. She'd never even touched herself there before -- the feeling was immeasurable! Her ass pushed back, wanting more.

For an instant, his hand left her breast to tug the one remaining string at her hip, the garment falling in heap around her sandals. Then it was back at her tit, plucking her nipple and making her whine with need. As his manipulation of her sex continued, thick, white juices poured from her cunt, dribbling down her legs and spattering on the kitchen rug. She was drowning in a sea of debauchery and lust.

"Tell me."

"No," she sighed, shaking her head. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction. She would never admit it.

Weaver crouched behind her, pressed his face against her ass. While squeezing her hips, he lapped her sodden pleats, daubed his tongue around the hard nub of her clit. A tremor running through her thick thighs as she whined in ecstasy. Sweet, tangy cream flowed over his tongue. He loved her taste, drank deeply of her essence. Lacy felt a maelstrom of pleasure threatening to overwhelm her. She resisted it with all she had, but it surged in her with a mind of its own. How was he so good at this? A scant few minutes and he already had her on the edge. Weaver swabbed his tongue around her weeping hole, thumb rubbing light circles around her clit. Torturously edging her. Her hips undulated, tipping back against his mouth, silently urging him on.

Instead, he spun her around by her hips and pushed her back against the counter. Her hands flew back to grasp the edge of the sink. Lifting a leg over his shoulder, he nudged his face between her thighs and captured her clit with his lips. Two fingers invading her soaked snatch. Against her will, her hips bucked against his face. God, he was making her crazy! Peering up past her stomach, he watched her huge, heavy breasts sway as she rode his lips and fingers. Disgust and desire warred within her -- conflict evident in her expression. He adored that look. With his fingers scrunched against the spongy bump of flesh on her upper wall, he sucked her clit like he was trying to take the skin off. She stiffened and moaned. Brought inexorably to the precipice of a monstrous orgasm. At the crescendo, he cruelly backed off, leaving her shaking with unfulfilled need.

The old man stood and grabbed her hair, mashing his lips against hers. Tongue forcing into her mouth. The awful taste and smell of fish and alcohol washed into her. Lacy tried to push him off, but he tightened his fist in her hair. Opposite hand shoving back between her sticky thighs. Two fingers pressed into her again, digging through her overheated channel. Her entire body shook. Helplessly kissing him back, meeting his tongue with hers. She hated how he could make her feel like this, and so easily. With Simon sometimes, she wanted him so badly it hurt, but nothing came close to this. Not even in the same time zone. A deep, consuming hunger in the depths of her. Like a living thing, ravenous and bestial, aching to be satisfied. With his dexterous fingers manipulating her wanton sex, her will to resist was crumbling fast.