Bill Gillie - Surfer girl

He had a thing for her butt. It wasn't enough to look at and fondle a little bit on the way to fucking her pussy. He had to have all of her asshole. In the center was the wrinkled, pink hole that squeaked when jammed with a finger or a cock. He still remembered that other charming girl who gasped when he licked her asshole. And now he was reaching between his daughter's cheeks with his tongue hanging out, slurping on her rump cheeks. He found the small sphincter and gave the pink muscle a solid lick and felt her shiver against him.

They drove by night.

The driver, a thin, nervous man in his late thirties, didn't know where to go. His old lady was home soaking up the boob tube and feeding the kid so he couldn't go there. His best buddy Fred had a bachelor pad across town, but Fred was away on a business trip. Shit, what luck! What with the circular waterbed and the closet full of dildoes and exotic creams and lotions to use, it was the perfect place. But the place was locked up and there was no point crying over his bad luck because it wouldn't help.

Beside him sat a young girl with blonde hair that came down over her shoulders and covered her well-formed breasts which puffed out against her nylon blouse. She was a beautiful girl with azure-blue eyes, a straight, delicate nose and ripe, luscious lips. He guessed her age at fifteen, maybe a year or two older. She had the fragile beauty of a girl who had been sheltered from life's harsh realities and was stepping out into the real world for the first time.

Her name was Janet. No last name, no address, nothing. He had picked her up after leaving the all night restaurant. Or rather, she had picked him up. Janet had asked him for a dime to call home and he had looked into those penetrating blue eyes and knew what she wanted. She was lonely, lost, looking for someone, anyone – any man. Her white skin was clear as glass, unblemished by adolescent pimples. It was perfect in color and texture; white as porcelain china. She was a virgin, he thought as he offered her a ride. When she accepted, he nearly went through the roof. She wanted something else from him. Janice no more needed a ride than she needed the dime to make the telephone call. And now as he drove down the nearly deserted boulevard, his heart pounding like a jackhammer, he wondered how such a find could happen to him, Tim Morgan, of all people.

Well, he wouldn't be lucky much longer unless he found a place to fuck this bitch. Janet was squirming on the front seat, crossing her legs nervously and breathing hard through her mouth. He watched her blouse rise and fall, enchanted with her small breasts with the hard nipples, then looked up just in time to see the truck run the red light and swerve out of the way.

"Bastard!" Morgan shouted, shaking his fist. He had to get off the road in a hurry or risk getting killed, risk losing this beautiful teenage bitch to old man Death. Ahead, a few blocks down, flashed a green neon sign. "Happy Heaven" the slender ribbons of neon read. "Five Bucks". It was just the place and exactly the right price for Morgan's wallet. He gunned the accelerator and the Buick roared down the weary asphalt pavement toward the neon sign and the exquisite pleasure that waited for him.

Janet stayed in the car while Morgan went inside to register. She pulled the sun visor down to hide her face. It was a silly gesture. The Happy Heaven motels of the world didn't care who patronized their rooms as long as they were paid for. She wondered what her father would say if he saw his daughter walking into a motel room with a man twice her age.

He wouldn't find out. Her father at that moment was in California looking for a house. And her mother was passed out on the couch. Janet had thrown the empty pint bottle of Vodka into the trash and snapped off Johnny Carson on the television. Her mother hadn't moved a muscle.

Janet moved in her seat. The curly haired triangle between her thighs was sopping wet. She pushed a hand down along her thigh and rubbed her panties. Her skin was perspiring and her face was flushed with heat. In her last night in Dairy, Ohio. Tomorrow morning she would board the jet that would take them to San Diego, California. She would be gone for good. In a few hours Dairy would be a memory, a place she was born in and lived in all her fifteen years. It would not be an unpleasant separation. The town meant nothing to Janet. It was a small town, a grimy place with a small-town mentality. Perhaps because her mother was a drunk or her father was always away on business trips, Janet did not feel a part of Dairy. She had wanted to start over, to begin a new life, then just like that her father got a transfer to California. Amazing! The land of eternal sunshine and second chances. She had almost burst when told of the move. Janet had never been so ecstatic. Now the moving was finished, the good-byes said, and only one piece of unfinished business remained. And, squeezing her thighs together, feeling the swollen lips of her cunt press together as Tim Morgan came swaggering from the office, key in hand, she knew even that would be taken care of.

"Ready, baby?" said Morgan, hopping in the front seat.

"Let's do it," she answered. She felt the warmth from his grin course through her body. Janet was a virgin. It was no big secret. Every boy at Dairy High called her the "prude who wouldn't screw." Virginity was something men could spot a mile away. Even this Tim Morgan sensed it. It wasn't Janet's fault. She wanted to be accepted and carefree like the other girls in high school, but she never found the right boy and somehow the time slipped by and suddenly Janet was fifteen years old. Well, she wasn't going to be a virgin any longer. Looking into Morgan's unblinking eyes sent a chill up her spine. It was the last thing she would leave behind in Dairy. She would not start her life over again in California as a prissy, introverted virgin. Tim Morgan would see to that. He would, or else!

Janet was out of the car and standing at the door waiting impatiently for Morgan to follow. He licked his lips. Oh, man, this was his lucky day!

Janet drifted as if caught in a dream. The room was surprisingly clean and decorative. She saw only the bed. It was huge! She sat down on the mattress and pressed her thighs against the edge. Her heart pounded with ferocious intensity. Her head spun merrily and she felt light and breezy, like bubbles foaming through vintage champagne. Desire surged through her nipples. No man had ever fondled her palm-size breasts before. She had never felt wet lips closing on her pinkish nipples, a tongue teasing and thrilling her in a thousand exquisite ways. She unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it away. Goosebumps flared from her chest and moved down her belly and across her thighs and cunt. She felt a twinge of embarrassment as she stripped her blouse off. Janet was down to her panties, afraid to turn and face Morgan.

"Please, the lights," she said. The room was thrown into darkness. She gasped, relieved that her nakedness was concealed.

For what seemed an eternity, she lay, hearing Morgan's clothes coming off. She reached for her panties, then stopped. No, he might want to, she thought, remembering a romance book she had once read. She pulled back the covers and crawled between the crisp sheets. The heavy starch played hell with her nipples as she lay there, vulnerable, excited and scared. Her awkward fingers were eager to touch his cock just as her twat was begging to take his hardness inside her.

Morgan seemed to be in no hurry as he stripped off his clothes in the pitch darkness. He whistled as his hips bounced softly on the bed, causing the springs to groan. Janet felt his presence everywhere. She lay back on the bed, resting her head on the pillow, and waited. The knot of pain in her chest strangled her. Why was he taking so long? She moved her fingers along the willowy contours of her hips and across the soft pubic mound. She was wet from the juice pouring out of her slit. She rubbed her fingers across the lips of her cunt and brushed them against the clitoris that rose up like a throbbing flower bud.