What Am I Doing Here?

It had been a busy day. MaryJane Huffman, Mrs. Huffman, was glad to be home. She signaled and turned right into the lot and backed into her parking space. She was tired and happy to be finished with her shopping. She got out of the car, opened the trunk and bent over to gather the shopping bags. She stood up.

"You got the sweetest looking ass in the whole world."

Damn, she thought, it was Harold's voice. Harold McCarthy. What did he want?

"Very sweet," he said.

"Thank you. Now go home. Leave me alone," Mrs. Huffman said.

She really didn't like this jerk. He had been a student in the English class she taught for graduating seniors at Holy Mother of God High School. He was crude, rude, disrespectful, and inattentive in class.

"I can't understand why you aren't more nice to me.," he said in his nasal, whining voice, "I was just saying something nice to you.. You bend over in that tight skirt and show that cute booty. So I was just saying."

"Ok, you said it. Now go. Leave me alone."

" I could see the outline of your panties against your skirt. "

"Why are you here? Didn't I ask you to leave? Do you want me to call the police?

"Hey, this is a free country. I can sit here if I want."

MaryJane Huffman just glared at him. He disgusted her. He was such a jerk. "Ok, sit there. Just don't talk to me any more. Don't bother me."

"Hey, at least let me help you with your packages."

"No, thank you," Mrs. Huffman said. "I can handle these packages myself." She had been to Home Depot to pick up a new faucet set for her bathroom and she was carrying the Home Depot box along with a Save The Earth Recyclable bag full of groceries. She turned away from Harold and started walking towards her building.

"Why are you being so mean," he shouted after her.

She ignored him.

She continued on towards her building, entered and continued up to her apartment. That greasy haired son of a bitch. She hated him. She hated his gawky, acne filled face. She hated the way he ogled her, leered at her.

She hated that he was one of the students who had been fucking her since the student Mardi Gras earlier this year. But that was all over now. MaryJane had retrieved the pictures they had of her. The blackmail was over. She put the groceries in the fridge and brought the Home depot box into the bathroom. "Oh, Shit," the thought suddenly hit her, she had left her library books on the passenger seat of her car. "I had better run down and get them," she said to herself.

She took a hurried glance around the lot as she left her building but didn't see Harold.

As she was bent over, taking the books from the front passenger seat, she heard his voice again. "Yes, M'aam, you sure has the tightest, sweetest ass I ever did see."

She ignored him and started back to the building.

"I was waiting. I knew you'd be back down to see me."

MaryJane Huffman knew that to engage Harold McCarthy in discussion would be stupid, a big mistake. She continued towards the building.

"You know you couldn't leave it go until you had another look at me." Harold said in that insinuating tone of his.

She knew that she shouldn't be arguing with this idiot, but she turned around anyway. "I came down to get my books. I forgot them. I certainly did not come down here to catch a glimpse of you."

"Oh yeah. I seen you looking around the parking lot."

"I was not looking for you. Grow up," MaryJane said.

"I only wanted to talk with you about something. That's all."

"Say it," she spit out.

"Ah, you know, I always liked you. I thought you was the best teacher in the whole school. And the prettiest too," Harold said. He had that stupid smile on his face. She hated that smile.

"That's it? That's what you had to say, ok. You said it. Goodbye now"

"See? I say something nice and you just blow me off."

"Harold," MaryJane knew that attempting to reason with this boy was a useless endeavor, worse than useless. "You have no reason to be here. This is where I live. I didn't invite you and I did ask you to leave." Trying to talk sense to this boy was frustrating. "Ok, I let you say what you implied was something important and all you said was more of the lying nonsense you always say. You said it. I heard it. Ok. Leave."

"Jaysus. I just try to be nice and look how you act."

"You were not trying to be nice. You were....I don't know what you were trying to accomplish."

"Hey, Mrs. Huffman."

"Look, just say goodbye and leave, ok." MaryJane was holding the library books in her folded arms against her chest. They were getting heavy. She started to turn back to the building.

"Wait. Please. I really got to tell you something."

MaryJane closed her eyes and exhaled a breath through her mouth. "Ok, say it, but hurry up, these books are heavy." Her back was to her door. She was looking at Harry.

"Uh, it's sort of private. You know."

She looked around the lot they were standing in. "There is no one here, go on. Say what ever it is you need to say so badly. Now!" Her chest was rising and falling with each of the short breaths she was taking. She didn't know if it was anger or what but she was unable to quiet the sound of her breathing through her nose.

"Not here. Stand by your car. You can put your books on the hood of the car," he said, "and we can talk there."

This is so dumb, MaryJane Huffman thought to herself. Why didn't I just leave and go up to my room?

They were at the car and Harold reached over as if to take the books from her hand. He touched the back of her arm just below the shoulder. He held her there. "Stop that," she almost shouted. "Take your hand off of me," she said. Oh my God she thought. She couldn't stand it for him to touch her with this filthy hand. The feel of his hand on her arm sent a shiver up her arm and across her chest. She started to put the books down on the hood of the car, but they began to slide down. She quickly grabbed them and opened the door of her car to put them back on the seat where they wouldn't slide. She felt his heavy hand press against her back just above her waist. She could feel the heat from his hand through the fabric of her blouse. "Stop it!" she said as forcefully as she could. "Don't touch me."

Why was this happening to her? She couldn't stop taking those short, shallow quick breaths. She could feel the nipples of her breasts harden as they brushed against the material of her bra. And Oh God, she could feel her cunt begin to moisten itself, her labia begin to part, her clitoris start to enlarge, push against its hood. Her legs felt weak.

She forced herself to keep her voice level as she spoke. "That is all. No more. I have things to do. I am going to my apartment. No more talk. Leave right now." Her anger, at herself, at him, made it so hard for her to focus. She glared at him.

Fucking Harold, He just wouldn't pay attention to her. He held his hand open in a pleading gesture. "Just one minute. We can talk in the car. Just one minute. I promise," he said. He took the books Mrs. Huffman had put on the seat and moved them onto the floor. He scooted through the door and sat on the passenger side front seat of the car.

MaryJane stared at him, an exasperated look on her face. What to do? Angrily, she slammed his door closed and moved around to the other side of the car. She opened her door and slid in, closing the door after her. "Ok. We're here. You wanted to talk here. We are here. Talk. But hurry. I have things to do." She stared straight ahead through the front windshield of her car. She was going to put a stop to this now.

Mrs. Huffman felt his hand on her leg. Above her knee. Too high above her knee, just below her hip. He was holding her there, squeezing the soft flesh on the back of her thigh.

"I told you not to touch me," she said.

Just as she finished saying that, she felt his other hand insinuate itself under her skirt and move against the inside of her thigh. She was too angry to react immediately, and his hand reached all the way up. His hand had slid under the elastic of her panties at the crotch. His finger was brushing against the furry bush covering her cunt and just touching the bottom of her labia.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Hey, I'm not doing anything."

"Get your hands out from under my dress." MaryJane ordered.

"I'm just touching you. It feels so nice and warm there."

"Move your hand," she said.

"You're wet."

Dealing with this jerk was impossible. "Please take your hand away from me. If I'm wet, it's none of your business."

But he didn't take his hand away. Instead, he slipped two fingers into her wet cunt.

"Didn't I tell you to stop that?"

He injected his finger deeper into her cunt. She couldn't stop her cunt juices from making her even wetter. Oh my God, she thought. What could she do?

His thumb was pressing against her clit. His fingers continued their invasion of her cunt.

MaryJane put her hand under her skirt and grabbed Harold by the wrist. She pulled his hand out from her cunt and from under her skirt. "Didn't I tell you to take your hand away from me?" she asked.

"Why are you so mean?"

This conversation was going nowhere. "Why are you touching me when I asked you not to?"

"Come on, Mrs. Huffman, you know you love it."

"I do not!" Why couldn't she just slap him, order him out of the car, get him to leave? Why didn't she just get out of the car? She couldn't slow her breathing. "Please. Just say whatever it was that you thought was so important to tell me. And then get out of this car."

He slipped his finger back under her skirt and pressed against her cunt.

"Please, please, stop, stop, stop" she breathed.

He lifted the elastic band at the top of her leg and put two of his fingers into her cunt again.

"Oh, please," she said but slightly separated her legs. She threw her head back against the head rest. "Please, please, please," she said as he began swirling his fingers inside her cunt. "I don't want this to be happening; we have to stop," she said.

"Don't worry about nothing." Harold reversed his hand so that it was palm up and he reached to the front of her cunt inside of her clit. Using his fingers, he pressed from inside her against the bone beneath her clit.

MaryJane separated her knees just a little bit more. Her head was thrown back. Her stomach contracted. The skin on the inside of her thighs felt red hot. His fingers. His fingers, they didn't stop moving.

"No!" she shouted at him. "Stop."

He changed hands. He pulled the hand that had invaded her cunt away from under her skirt but replaced it with two fingers from his other hand.

Oh, he was just disgusting. She was staring at him with a look of complete hatred. He held the fingers that had been in her cunt next to his nose and inhaled deeply. "Smells good," he said. He put the fingers in his mouth. "Tastes good," he added.

MaryJane Huffman sat back against her seat, her legs spread, her breathing quick and loud. She felt it almost impossible to move. She looked at Harold from the corner of her eyes. He was looking down, intent on his fingers' movement. He looked up and gave her one of his ugly leering smiles. She hated this! She couldn't stop the feeling rushing through her legs.

The sound of a car entering somewhere in the lot snapped her out of the trance she was in.. It was at the far end of the lot from where her car was parked.

She sat up. Someone might see her like this. She once again held on to his wrist and pulled his hand away from under her skirt. "We have to stop. No more," she said. "I said no more," she raised her voice. She pushed him and his back hit the door on his side of the car.

"Hey, ouch. That hurt," he said.

MaryJane straightened her skirt. She had allowed things to go way too far. But they would end now. "I said no more, and I meant no more. No more. You are a disgusting boy and I can't stand being near you. Leave me alone."

His mouth gaped open. He looked at her in complete surprise.

She opened the door on her side and escaped from the car. Still breathing heavily, she stood outside the car, trying to calm down. When Harold began to exit from his side, she slammed her door shut and began walking back to her building.

"Hey, Mrs. Huffman, wait. Wait."

She ignored him. She walked a little faster.

"Mrs. Huffman. Hey, Mrs. Huffman, you forgot your books." He was hurrying towards her. He was carrying the library books she had left in the car.

She was standing with her back to the door of her building. "Here, give them too me."

"They're heavy. Let me carry them up for you,"

"I told you I didn't want anything to do with you. Give me the books."

"I don't get you," Harold whined. A minute ago you were ready to cum from me finger fucking you and now you hate me."

"I hated you then. I hate you now. Give me the books and go away."

"Gee, Mrs. Huffman, I'm just trying to be nice, trying to help you. Let me carry the books upstairs for you. Please."

"Give me the books. Give me the books and go away." The memory of his finger in her cunt made her want to scream.

"They really are heavy. I just want to be nice. I just want to help," his whinny voice wouldn't stop.

She couldn't stay here arguing with him all afternoon. He was carrying the armful of books. It looked innocent enough. "Ok," she said, "you can carry the books upstairs for me. But that's all. When you've carried them upstairs, you go. All right?" Her breathing started to quicken again, and she turned around to open the door before he could see.

She didn't want to wait for the elevator with him next her, so they headed for the stairs. She could hear him trudging up just behind her. She knew, she could feel his eyes looking at her backside as he followed her up the stairs to her third floor apartment.

They were standing at the door to her apartment. She opened the door and waited for him to hand over the books.

"Let me carry them in," he said, "They're real heavy."

"Just put them on the table here," she said. She pointed to the end table next to the door. She hated him. She could see his boner tenting his pants out in front of him

Harold put the books down, but before she could say anything, order him out of the apartment, he kicked the door shut with the heel of his shoe, pushed her against the door and put his mouth against hers.

"Stop," she tried to say, but as she opened her mouth, he stuck his tongue inside her mouth. She tried to push him away, but his body pressed against hers. She could feel the length of his prick press against her leg. His hand was once again under her skirt. This time he reached behind and tugged at her panties, pulling them down in their back past the swell of her ass. He was bending his knees up and down, rubbing his erection against her leg. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"C'mon," he said. "Come on, Mrs. Huffman, you know you want it." His prick was pushing against her cunt now. His hand was up against her chest and was rubbing her tits."

"You promised. You said you would leave when you brought the books up."

"Come on. You can't just stop like this. I'll get blue balls."

"Fuck you and your blue balls. I can't do this anymore. You said you would stop," she repeated. Why, why did she let herself get in this situation, she asked herself.

"Aw, just a little bit. Just a little bit more," he said, his prick pressing against her cunt, his hands brushing against her tits. His tongue reentered her mouth.

She could feel the juices start to run in her pussy again. Her panties were still hanging half down off of her ass. All of this was heading for somewhere and that somewhere was not anyplace good.

Mary Jane pushed him away just far enough so that she was able to grab his wrist. She pulled him into the kitchen and sat him down on the kitchen stool. "Look, let's be calm about this. You promised me you would leave when we got to my apartment. You promised."

"Yeah, but, jaysus, Mrs. Huffman, you're so hot! Damn it. Your ass, when I followed you up the stairs. You can't blame me for wanting to fuck you." He stood up. "Look," he said, he glanced down at the front of his pants where his erection tented through his pants pointing straight out at her.

This can't be happening, MaryJane thought to herself. "I don't have time. I have too many things to do. Leave," she told him. "Please."

"Come on," he said, just a little fuck."

She looked over at the desk where he had dropped the books. She could have brought them up. They weren't that heavy. "I do not want to fuck you," she said, enunciating every word slowly.

"You said it," Harold shouted. "You said it."

MaryJane Huffman looked puzzled. "What? What did I say?"

"You said it, Fuck. Fuck you said. Jeff said you never said it. He said you only say,'have sex.' Like you never use that word fuck."

Oh my God, MaryJane thought. Why do I even get in these conversations.

"Come on, Mrs. Huffman, let's fuck."

She couldn't take anymore of his whinning, "I don't have time. Look. Just go. I have too many things to do."

"I just want a fuck."

"Go."

"Just a fuck. Jaysus, you did all of us just last week at Jeff's cabin."

"That was a mistake. You were blackmailing me."

"Come on Mrs. Huffman, you loved it."

Was there anyway she could get rid of this pest? She had to do something.

She reached down and pulled on the zipper of his pants. His fly opened. She reached in and grabbed his prick into her hand. It was thin. And long. Purple.

"Damn you, what do you want?" she said. "Do you want me to jack you off?" She felt disgusted at herself. She was holding his erect prick in her hand. What was she doing? Underneath her skirt, she could feel the elastic of her panties underneath the globe of her behind, pressing against the lower lips of her cunt. She had no idea of what was going to happen next. "Do you want me to jack you off?"

He didn't say anything.

"What do you want to get out of here?" she demanded.

He still said nothing.

"Do you want me to give you a blow job?"

He continued his silence but grabbed her hand and led her a few feet into the hallway. "Where's your bedroom?" he said.

Helplessly, she gestured with her chin to the door to her bedroom. He held onto her hand and walked to the room she had pointed out, pulling her along with him. MaryJane wondered if she had made the bed that morning.

He kicked open the door of the bedroom and she followed him in.

"So this is your bedroom," he said. Genius.

He looked at the television set. "You got any porn?" he asked.

"No," she said. "Look, why don't you just leave? It's late. I have things to do."

"Nah. We're going to fuck," he said. He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. His skinny chest was totally without allure to her. Below his belly button, his fly was still undone, his prick still standing out from his body.

What could she do? MaryJane unbuttoned her blouse and took it off. She watched as he dropped his pants and sat on her bed, taking his boxer shorts off. She sighed, unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor. Her panties were still up, covering her bushy cunt though they were down in the back below the curve of her ass. It was sort of sexy, she thought. She kept her panties on. He lay down, stretched out on the bed, his penis pointing straight up towards the ceiling. He was still wearing his socks. She stood where she was at the side of the bed for a few seconds. She took a deep breath. "Ok," she said, but we have to be quick. I haven't got all night." She climbed up onto the bed.

"Suck my prick, first," he said. He pushed himself back, his head against the headboard, to give her more room.

She bent over and looked down at his prick. She could smell a stale aroma, sweat mixed with a bit of unwashed whatever around his scrotum. "Did you masturbate earlier?" she could detect dried cum on his stomach.