by Ami Snow
“They will,” agreed Tyler, noticing the natural hint of blush tinting her high cheekbones, “They won't be pleased, that's for sure.”
“Please,” repeated Madeline, her eyes welling with tears of desperation, “They'll never let me live it down, I'll be –”
“You've grown into quite the young woman.”
“–grounded for life – wait, what?” gasped Madeline, her ears ringing.
The corners of Tyler's lips turned in a slow, deliberate smile as he eyed her from head to toe, his head cocked to the side. Madeline's heart thundered against her chest, the splitting ringing in her ears severing. Her eyelids fluttered as she gazed back at him in confusion, a dilatory tickling of arousal gathering inside of her as she felt his yearning, longing gaze searing into every inch of her flesh. She swallowed, purposely loosening her cardigan, exposing the plumpness of her cleavage. She shivered as his hazel eyes glistened, zooming into the lure of her chest.
“You were discussing camping out in my daughter's room without my knowledge, correct? How long were you intending to keep this up?”
“I'm sorry, Mr. Benson, I – I was desperate, I didn't know where else to go. Please don't call my Dad –”
Tyler sucked his teeth, shaking his head, “I don't know – Lawrence deserves to know when his daughter's been messing up at school –” Tyler took a deep breath, a creeping chill of regret shuddering up his spine. He shook off the encroaching intrusion, his gaze landing on the soft, exposed bounty of her taunting cleavage.
Tyler cracked his neck to the side, licking his lips, uttering croakily, “What're you willing to do for me in return?”
Madeline gasped, her eyes rounding in shock as Tyler leaned back into the cushion of his chair, slowly stroking the conspicuous, enlarging bulge pressing against the ash-gray polyester of his sweatpants.
“I don't understand, Mr. Benson,” whispered Madeline, lacing an aureate strand around her fingertips, “What do you mean –”
Tyler pulled his armchair towards the side, his sweatpants slipping down to his ankles. Madeline lowered her eyes to the tent on his checkered boxer-briefs. He narrowed his eyes, the huskiness of his voice enhanced by his heavy breathing.
“You're a smart girl, why don't you come over here and figure it out?”
Tyler unveiled the tent, his awakened erection ejecting out of the slit in his boxers. Madeline gently grazed at her cleavage, the tips of her fingernails softly digging into her skin. She gazed hungrily at the thick, veined pole staring back at her, marveling at the beautiful sandy-beige of his shaft, the glistering fleck on his hooded tip.
Madeline tugged on the sleeves of her cardigan and dropped to her knees, slowly crawling towards him. Tyler's lips parted in silent awe as he ogled at the jiggling spheres pouring out of her slipping neckline. He wrapped his fingers around his hungry cock, stroking rhythmically. She stopped at his tatty, maroon slippers, forcing his legs further open with one swift movement. Tyler chewed on his bottom lip, their eyes locking, his fists curling as his arms dangled over the armrests. Madeline blinked up at him, her lengthened lashes quivering. He saw a flicker of innocence flitting across her ardent, chocolate-tinted eyes, darkened with dramatic flicks, feminizing her once child-like features.
Madeline's luscious, dark red lips furled around the pink tip of his throbbing cock, groaning as she slid down on his pole, tasting his shaft whole. Tyler grunted, his brows furrowing at the sweet warmth of her mouth. She gripped the base of his cock, steadily guiding his delicious rod in and out of her pursed, appeasing lips, humming softly as the tip of his cock grazed the back of her throat. The fingers of his tightened fists loosened over the armrests, his back arching against the cushioned back of the chair. His eyes fluttered open, gasping throatily as he observed her swiveling her light pink, pointed tongue wildly around the tip of his slippery cock. The corners of her lips lifted in an eager, enjoying smile, savoring the taste of his pre-juices.
“You're a good fucking girl. You know what you're doing, don't you?”
Madeline untied the straps of her dress around her neck, the halter bodice crumpling and catching around the curves of her soft, shapely stomach. She grinned, reaching under her cardigan and unclasping her frilly, lace-white bra with her right hand. Tyler's teeth sunk further into his smarting lips as her wide-set, immaculately full breasts spilled out of her modest lingerie, pushing her cardigan wide open. His eyes latched onto the large, mocha-tinted areolas, her puffy nipples erect.
Madeline smiled slyly, lowering her eyes as she lifted each breast, teasing him playfully, squeezing them together and dropping them slowly. She reveled in his enraptured trance, subtly puckering her lips as his eyes followed the entrancing movements of her free breasts. She pried his fingers off his cock and wedged it between the tight space of her cleavage, much to his unimpeded pleasure.
“Fuck yes,” breathed Tyler, squeezing his eyes shut as his fingers dug into the cool, leathery hide of his armrests, “Your tits are fucking amazing, Maddie –”
His raspy words trailed off, squirming in his armchair. His eyelids flitted open, enchanted by the mesmerizing bouncing of her plump, creamy bisque breasts, his swelling cock engulfed in the divine warmth of her cleavage. His cock pulsed against the supple folds, grimacing as he neared his inevitable climax.
“Fuck, I'm gonna come –”
“Please, Mr. Benson, I want you to come all over my face – I've dreamed about this day for years...”
Tyler groaned as a string of his white, sticky liquid spurted out of his cock, drizzling against her fresh-faced, dainty features. He shot out of his seat. He gulped as she licked the creaminess that lined her upper lip, a tremulous sense of regret washing over him. He mumbled inaudibly about washing off and vanished out the study without another word, leaving Madeline to wallow in her confusion.
Chapter Four –
Madeline trudged towards the backyard of the Simmons residence, her heart heavy in her chest as a looming dread thrashed in the pit of her stomach. She lifted the shades nestled on her head, lowering her demi-amber, club-master sunglasses to the bridge of her nose, shielding her eyes from the glaring rays of the sun. She smoothened her tangerine, roll-sleeved blouse, and began rotating her shoulders in an attempt to loosen up. She turned the corner to the yard, the soles of her chukka boots squishing against the soft ground below her, muddy from the preceding shower.
Lawrence Simmons stood hunched over by the propane-fueled grill, the silver cross around his neck dangling, carefully guarding the browning beef patties lining the cooking grid. He was a thin, balding man, his dome lined with a peppery ring of hair he refused to shave off, and wore round, rimless glasses and thick lenses that magnified his steely, sable-brown eyes. Madeline shook her head at her father's never-changing wardrobe, a crisp, collared button down, neatly tucked into his high-waisted khakis. Madeline approached her permanently sullen-faced father, the mouthwatering aroma of grilling beef drifting into her nostrils.
“Hey, Dad.”
Lawrence looked up at Madeline, his expression unchanging, nodding curtly as he responded, “Madeline.”
Madeline craned her neck, scanning the fully-dressed, yet uninhabited picnic tables. She frowned, musing, “Where is everyone?”
“Your mom's in the kitchen with Joy, finishing up the coleslaw and peeling corn husks. The Bensons and Taylors should be here in fifteen minutes or so,” droned Lawrence, flipping the burgers, unflinching at the steam from the hissing patties.
“Joy's here?” grumbled Madeline, scowling.
“Yes, she is, and you should go say hi – never mind, here they come now.”
“Oh, Maddie, is that you? Have you lost weight?”
Joy sashayed out of the house, dressed in an eggplant, belted velour dress that showed off her slender figure, elevated by stiletto pumps. Her naturally mousy brown hair was bleached blonde, tied up in an elegant french-twist, showcasing the matching pearl earrings and necklace above her jewel neckline.
&nb
sp; “No,” muttered Madeline, “And I'm not trying to. Good to see you too, Joy. You look good.”
“Oh, you're too kind,” Joy gushed, “It's just a bit of the Hollywood treatment, and this dress has just been sitting in my closet forever –”
“Oh, Joy, you're always so humble, but my baby girl definitely deserves a little buttering up now that she's got her own Christian-based talk show! I'm still pinching myself!”
Madeline rolled her eyes as Molly Simmons dawdled out the screen door, a tray of browned, candied yams and a container of coleslaw tucked under each arm. Molly was a chubby, round-faced woman with a frighteningly bubbly demeanor, who harbored dark, emotionally unstable tendencies that frequently surfaced throughout Madeline's childhood. Madeline watched resentfully as her mother crossed over to the picnic table and laid the food across the checkered print of the tablecloth, the plain, olive-green hem of her floor-length skirt swishing across the blades of grass.
“Oh Mom, stop!” Joy simpered, joining her mother at the picnic table.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Oh, Madeline, there you are – well, what're you waiting for, don't just stand there! Come set the table and make yourself useful.”
“Good to see you too, Mom,” muttered Madeline under her breath as she leaned over the large paper bag next to the pincic table and removed the stacks of paper utensils and napkins.
“Tyler! How you doing, buddy?”
The solemn expression on Lawrence's face cracked, the corners of his lips stretching in a genuine smile, waving as he inserted a juicy beef patty between toasted burger buns topped with sesame seeds. Madeline elongated her neck slowly, absentmindedly fiddling with the plastic edge of a pack of paper forks. She watched as Tyler exchanged a handshake with her father. Tyler was dressed in a charcoal-gray henley shirt, three buttons undone, exposing a slice of his defined chest, along with a masculine smattering of his chest hairs. His eyes were concealed behind mauve-tinted aviators, and he wore a brick-crowned cowboy hat over his wavy locks that complemented his dirty-dyed jeans. Madeline let her roving gaze roam free behind her dark lenses, landing on the fitted crotch area, gloating a hint of his well-endowed package.
Tyler visited the picnic table, greeting Molly warmly with a friendly shake of the hand and a courteous hat tipping to Joy. Madeline frowned as Tyler visibly deflected her stares, electing to engross himself in petty pleasantries and trivial conversation with her mother and older sister. She ripped open the packet of paper forks in her hands, swearing under her breath as a few tumbled to the grass below her.
“Oh, Madeline, look what you've done,” snapped Molly, knitting her brows, the etched lines across her forehead deepening, “You can be so damn clumsy sometimes. Well, never mind that and come over to say hi to Mr. Benson – where are your manners?”
Madeline cringed, a deep twinge of ruby flooding her cheeks as she turned to face them. She crossed over to them, her knees wavering slightly.
Tyler frowned, his nose wrinkling at the frigid tone in Molly's voice. He swallowed as Madeline lifted her sunglasses and stowed them away in the quilted purse around her shoulder. She glanced up at him, revealing a wounded, gloomy expression on her face, the usual brilliant luster glazed over in her dull brown eyes. The corners of her mouth lifted timidly, nodding her head politely as she met Tyler's gaze.
“Hi, Mr. Benson. Wonderful to see you again.”
“Good to see you too, Maddie,” responded Tucker coolly, flashing her a smile as he took a seat on the bench, inching over to the far edge.
Madeline sat across him, her side-swept lace braid ruffling lightly against the blowing brush of the wind. She peered around, her her forehead crinkling, “Where's Emma?”
“Oh, Emma's at work, she had to cover for someone last minute, wanted me to let you know that she couldn't make it today, and that she's sorry.”
“That's too bad,” Molly chimed in, “Lovely girl, Emma.”
Madeline stifled the urge to roll her eyes at the sound of Molly's brazen lie. She found it eerie how lies comfortably tumbled out of her mother's lips – she could hear nothing but the echoes of her mother's nonstop harping about Madeline's unyielding friendship with Emma over her childhood years, constantly griping about her horrible influence.
“Madeline – baby.”
Madeline's eyes widened at the sound of the whining voice. She whipped around angrily, her eyes flashing as Colin stared back at her, a bouquet of roses in his hands. He was the ideal son her parents never had, with a neatly-trimmed crew cut, squeaky clean, all-american features, dressed in an ironed, collared polo shirt and golf shorts. He looked back at her imploringly, a hopeful smile plastered on his face.
“What're you doing here, Colin?” demanded Madeline, crossing her arms.
“Your mom invited me, please, can we talk –”
“Colin! How lovely to see you!” caroled Molly, waving from the picnic table.
“Get outta here and don't make a scene,” whispered Madeline through gritted teeth, “Please. Just go.”
Colin opened his mouth in defiance, clamping his mouth back shut, defeated, as Madeline glowered back at him. He left the bouquet on the picnic table and slunk off towards the front gate.
“Where's Colin going?” Molly huffed, shaking her head, “Don't tell me you two had a fight – you're not going to do any better than Colin, and he's a lovely boy –”
The Taylors arrived not much longer after that, cutting Molly's tirade short. They were a boring, but nice enough couple in their mid-fifties who had moved to the block just over a year ago. They gathered around the table, joining hands as they expressed their thanks in prayer, led by an over-ecstatic Joy, who gladly jumped on the opportunity to shine at any occasion. After the drawn-out warbles of gratitude, the seven members of the party broke out in a buzzing of conversation, with the exception of an awkward, out of place Madeline, as they heaped food onto their plates.
Madeline stuffed her face with yams, washing it down with a glass of lemonade, aiming to finish the food on her plate as quickly as possible so she could excuse herself from the painfully tedious meal. She sped on to dessert, hastily heaping a sliver of pumpkin pie onto her plate. She jolted, raising her eyebrows in irritation as Joy prodded at her arm with the stiletto points of her pristinely-manicured nails.
“What?”
“Mr. Taylor's talking to you,” hissed Joy, rolling her eyes.
“I'm sorry,” blushed Madeline, smiling at Mr. Taylor, “I didn't catch that.”
“No problem, my dear, we were just asking how school was going for you – how's Palm Beach Messiah? That's my alma mater, you know – in fact, it's where me and the missus met.”
Madeline's eyes widened, gulping down the lump in her throat as she forced a quaky smile. “It's um – it's going great. I'm a sophomore now, majoring in Christian Literature.”
She glanced across the table at Tyler, gulping as he opened his mouth to speak. Her bottom lip quivered as she braced herself, pinching at the wrinkled skin of her elbow.
“Right, in fact, Emma tells me Madeline's doing real well at Palm Beach Messiah.”
Madeline exhaled in relief, the color rising to her cheeks as Tyler flashed her a fleeting, knowing wink from across the table.
Chapter Five –
Madeline gazed at her reflection at the mirror in the hallway outside Tyler's study, attired in the old high-school uniform she had snuck out of her parent's house during the barbeque. She adjusted the navy-blue tie of the button-down polo, the buttons on her heaving chest threatening to burst. She turned around, rolling the waist of her matching blue skirt until the hem grazed the tops of her knee-high socks. She admired the curvy silhouette of her buttocks, a rush of confidence surging through her. She took a deep breath and knocked upon Tyler's closed door.
“Emma? You back from work already – Madeline.”
Tyler's eyes bulged at Madeline's blatantly provocative get-up, his uncompromising lust brewing within him as she closed the
door quietly behind her. Madeline lowered her eyes, a seductive smile playing on her nude, naturally pink lips. He took a deep breath, his fingers quivering against his armrests. He shut the display of his laptop, clearing his throat as he clenched his thighs together.
“Madeline – wait – what're you doing? Listen, about the other day, I was out of line –”
Madeline tilted her head to the side, pouting, “What's wrong, Mr. Benson? Was it not good for you?”
Tyler swallowed, shaking his head, “No, it's not that – Madeline, I'm sorry, it was my fault. It was a mistake – I shouldn't have abused my authority over you, I apologize –”
“If you liked it, I don't get why it's wrong. We're both adults here.”
Tyler froze, the simplicity of her logic ringing in his ears. His eyes widened as Madeline slowly unbuttoned the top of her blouse, stopping just above the shadow of her cleavage.
“Do you like my outfit, Mr. Benson?” asked Madeline softly, daintily tugging at the opening slit of her blouse, “I dressed up for you so you could punish me accordingly.”
Before Tyler could weakly utter his concerns, Madeline slipped her fingers into her mouth, coating them with spit. She lowered her dampened fingers onto the curves of her breasts, grinning as she rubbed the spit onto the thin, translucent-white fabric of her blouse. He swallowed, his knuckles paling against his armrest as the brownish tints of her pert nipples came to view, poking through the cotton.
Madeline lifted her chin, the delicate flap under her chin wavering lightly as her fingers brushed down the remnants of her buttons. Her blouse swung open, her pendulous breasts tipping out into full view. She giggled as Tyler's jaw unhinged, swaying her hips as she minced towards his desk. She edged next to him, leaning over the desk, carefully hiking the skirt over her waist, unveiling her fleshy, creamy cheeks, slightly sagging from its beautiful plumpness. She lifted her cheeks gingerly, exposing her dripping cunt, a scrumptious shade of raw pink.
