Thank you for all your support and ideas and wonderful conversation. I hope you enjoy this next episode in the girls' adventures.
This is a two-part chapter in a chronologically and procedurally arranged series; I'd recommend that you start with Ch. 1 to get your bearings (which also happens to be one of the most popular chapters), or at least read Ch. 2, which is a very short synopsis of the rules of the universe in these stories, but at this point the story has grown mature enough you're probably best off simply reading through in order.
This series deals with first-time, free-use, age difference, light BDSM/noncon, and light incest.
I love to correspond with my readers. Feel free to write anytime; just make sure to add your email to the message if you want me to write you back :-)
Robert
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Bon Jovi's 'Runaway' blasted on the speakers of the classic red Camaro as Jennifer pulled into the gas station. Her thick, brunette ponytail and the wide, blue bow that held it bounced as she took a speed bump with a little too much velocity, and she giggled sheepishly and set her sunglasses on top of her head as she pulled up to the fuel pump.
She loved the music video for this song; she thought she looked kind of like the girl in it, and she'd been tickled to find out her name was Jennifer, too.
Also she thought the drummer was super hot.
It was funny to her how much she liked the song. She didn't want to run away. She was really well behaved, and always had been, so much so that there was literally nothing that made her melt as fast as when her father or another man gently took her cheek in his hand, looked her in her eyes, and told her she was a good girl.
She'd spent her entire life trying to live up to that. She was surrounded by loving family and friends; she got excellent grades and had been accepted to a great college. She was planning on majoring in marine biology; she'd loved the ocean since she was little, and her dream was to contribute in any way she could to its study and conservation. She'd been a competitive gymnast and cheerleader in high school, and she'd won first place in her Festival a couple weeks ago.
And hungry as she always was to hear a man call her a good girl, there were no more crushing words she could be told than the opposite. Ever since she was little, nothing could bring her to penitent tears faster than her father's low, sad voice when she'd been naughty saying, 'Jennifer, sweet daughter, you've been a bad girl.'
But even with all of this hard work and dedication and commitment, sometimes she just wanted to be...bad. Or at least pretend to be bad. And that, she thought, was very funny.
Getting gas real quick!
Got some cute undies for today ;-)
Want a iced coffee? I'm getting one
CU soon! :-*
She sent the text and wrinkled her nose momentarily in an adorable pout as she shut off the idling ignition of the big old muscle car..
She loved the rumble of the giant engine. She'd discovered a position for her butt on the sun-warmed leather seat where the powerful purr focused directly on the perfect spot on her pussy, and she'd enjoyed feeling her secret slickness slowly seeping between her labia on the short drive to the gas station.
She had a fleeting sense that she got a little wetter as she typed out 'cute undies', but that would be weird given who she was texting, so she brushed it off as just her imagination and hopped out of the convertible. Her dad had helped her take her top off, and she'd caught a lot of appreciative eyes as she'd cruised in full view of everyone on the street in the sunny warmth of the late summer afternoon.
The car was the same one she had used for her Festival intro video, and was a gift from Doug Ashland, the neighbor across the street from her family's house. A kind man in his mid-fifties, he'd watched Jennifer grow up since he and his wife moved in ten years ago, and he'd always been sweet to her, telling her often how grown-up she was becoming, and how much he looked forward to her Festival.
He'd been happy to lend the car to her for her video, and was so proud of her first place finish that he gave it to her as a gift, saying no one could possibly look better in it than she did, on the playful condition that she wash it in her dad's driveway in a bikini every so often for him while he did his lawn work.
She was astonished and deeply grateful, and she was even more happy when he reserved her for four whole days of training next week to travel with him to New York City on a business trip, where he was looking forward to introducing her to a couple of his friends who he said should have the chance to handle such a perfect young female.
Jennifer, who had never been to the City, was excited for the adventure, but she was especially happy to have the chance to demonstrate her gratitude for Mr. Ashland's generosity to the best of her ability.
Her dad made sure she understood that work travel could be very tiring for a businessman, as well as stressful without the customary comforts of home or his wife to help temper the rough-and-tumble realities of the business world, and she resolved she would do everything she could to help Mr. Ashland feel relaxed and energized each evening when he returned to the hotel from his meetings, and to be as generous and welcoming as she could to his associates.
She was still new to this chapter of her life, and while she was fairly sure men enjoyed training her, it was difficult to fully dispel doubts about her skills or appearance; bringing her along obviously entailed significant additional expenditures for Mr. Ashland, and she just hoped she could possibly be worth it for him.
The lithe young girl, her thin white sundress cavorting with such abandon in the light, late summer breeze that it was almost completely derelict in its primary-though nearly universally unpopular-job of protecting Jennifer's modesty, just managed to press the long, heavy gas nozzle all the way into the receptive opening of her tank between the sleekly sculpted rear haunches of the SS, and was absently listening to its heavy 'chug-chug-chug-chug' as it enthusiastically pumped powerful streams of gasoline into the belly of the beautiful, thirsty car, when the man at the next pump walked over with a smile and a greeting.
'My goodness, that body is gorgeous,' he said with the flash of a brilliant grin, his well-fitted suit hinting at a trim, confident frame that belied his middle age as he came close and kissed her on the cheek, giving her a little wink. 'Also, you're quite beautiful yourself, sweet girl. Are you eligible?'
It was the first time since her Festival that Jennifer had been in public unaccompanied by her father, and her first experience being evaluated for training by a stranger. She knew this was normal and good, but she still caught a thrill of nerves as he lightly caressed her small, braless breasts over the insubstantial fabric of her dress, ran an appreciative hand through her hair, and treated her as if he already knew most of what was important for him to be able to enjoy her body, should he choose to. As an eligible man, he was entitled to complete access to her body for pretty much any sexual purpose he might conceive, whenever he may please-and he did indeed seem pleased with her.
This was the complete unknown for Jennifer. This man was not a friend of hers, nor an acquaintance of her father's, and her father wasn't here to instruct her or to mediate whatever lesson the man might want to teach her.
She wasn't exactly afraid, and of course she'd been carefully raised her whole life for this exact purpose, but she was still taken aback by the immediacy, the familiarity, and the matter-of-factness with which this man, whom she had never before seen, was permitted and prepared to strip her out of her clothing and fuck her as simply a matter of course for his afternoon, as he was allowed to do to any young girl in training.
There was nowhere for her to go, no way to escape. This was what it meant to be a trainee. She consciously worked to control her breathing, smiled while she spoke, and maintained eye contact.
'You're a Festival champion, girl. Make him understand you want to be trained,' she reminded herself. 'Let him know you're excited to learn from him. Look for ways to show him you are ready to welcome him inside your body in any way he likes, and you want to help extract his semen.'
She did her best to remember her training and her etiquette lessons, running through the first section of her maxims in her head as she'd been taught to calm herself and stay on track:
'I. My entire body is a temple of goodness and pleasure.'
'II. My entire body was created to induce men to couple with it by offering them ultimate pleasure.'
'III. A man's purpose is to couple with bodies like mine.'
'IV. When a man fulfills his purpose with my body, my purpose is fulfilled.'
