Paige couldn’t help but wonder how all this had gotten so out of hand.
* * * * *
Only an an hour and a half earlier, the night was cool, and Paige was filled with imminent terror about her situation at home.
She stood in front of Becky's house, frantically knocking on the door.
It was late on a Wednesday night—a school night. It was past ten, as a matter of fact. She should be home, studying for her history test tomorrow.
But she hadn't been able to study at all that night after her mother dropped the bomb on her earlier in the day—no, she had to talk to Becky. There was too much going on to concentrate without a good heart-to-heart first
Paige just simply couldn’t believe her mother’s actions. To ask that jerk Dan back in their lives, just like that! To get involved with that utter creep again! God! The nerve!
Fuming as she was, she couldn’t possibly keep her thoughts inside herself, and she needed Becky as a sounding board.
Becky was Paige's best friend. The two of them had been intertwined together like wires behind a television since they were each in kindergarten. They were both eighteen now, and had lots of the same classes and were on the tennis team together at their high school.
Neither of them were much good at tennis, of course. Paige only played because Becky did, and Becky played to keep herself in shape and stay tanned. Paige stayed in shape and tanned also, of course.
All in all, Paige was a fine looking young woman. She had long straight dark hair, perfect 36C breasts, an astonishingly well-developed hourglass figure, and a heart-shaped face that was the product of fine Scandinavian and German genetics, complete with plush lips, high cheekbones, and sexy blue eyes. Without a doubt, she was a looker—but she was saving herself for someone really special.
Her figure had only really kicked in within the last year, after a sudden growth spurt, and so she had never even been asked out that much. Of course, she caught guys at school looking at her, wanting her. She would have been lying if she said she didn't enjoy it just a bit. But, boys at school always seemed so immature, so obsessed with themselves, so unable to do anything but view Paige as some hottie to put on a pedestal and parade around.
In her dreams, if she had to be honest, she wanted an older man. Someone to guide her through the process—to teach her how to be a hot, perfect lover in the way that her body promised. Paige knew she was sexy—but she just didn't know yet how to really put it all together.
Impatiently, almost desperately, she knocked on the door again. It was rather cool outside, after all, and all she was wearing was a thin white t-shirt and short-short denim shorts. Her platform sandals clomped on the wood of the porch as she shuffled and tried to keep warm.
To Paige's surprise, Becky’s father, Michael, answered the door. He was sweating—wearing gym shorts and a tight white t-shirt. Clearly, he had been working out. His tight, remarkable muscles were bulging, hot veins popping in a rather eye-pleasing manner. His gym shorts were rather short, and she could see the defined nature of his tanned thighs, and how alluringly hairy they were. And there, between his legs...was a definite bulge. A really, really big bulge.
Paige was surprised to see him. She almost never talked with Michael one-on-one.
It was difficult to say with exactitude why she found Michael so attractive—though only because there were only so many possible areas of interest.
Was it the hard, chiseled nature of his runner’s body? Was it the rugged, bearded jawline that was peppered with a sexy amount of gray? Was it the ice blue eyes, or the deep voice, or the thick strong hands, or his manly swath of chest hair...the list went on.
He was a hunk. Paige wanted him. End of discussion.
Lots of times Paige had spoken privately with Diana—Michael’s beautifully busty young wife—to the point where the two of them were great friends. Paige felt almost as close to the vivacious Diana as she did to Becky, as a matter of fact.
Becky’s mother—Michael’s first wife—had died some time ago, and Michael remarried the voluptuous brunette Diana only a few years back. Diana always had a smile on her face, and Paige was always hearing stories from Becky about the fun little gifts she brought home every other week for the family—things like stuffed animals and little thank-you cards for everyday occurrences like taking care of chores. Her zest for life had seemed to reinvigorate Michael, who had been falling into something of a depression from grief.
Paige had read in the past that when a man married a younger woman and had a daughter who was in her late teens, that some conflict was inevitable. Diana and Becky had been no exception. For the first several months of the new marriage, Becky had constantly called Paige, confiding in her about how much she hated her wicked new stepmother.
But then, with time and a few well-placed vacations, their relationship turned around. The girls both realized that they both loved Michael, and that the best way to make him happy, truly, was just to get along.
It worked out well for Paige—after Becky and Diana made up, Diana had become Paige's fast friend and mentor, and had gotten her a job as an intern at the local hospital where Diana worked as a night administrator. Paige was always happy for the new bits to add to her resume. College was just around the corner.
Lately, Diana had been propositioning her for dinner to “discuss her future,” whatever that meant. Paige assumed Diana just cared about her, which was really sweet.
Paige knew Diana had a lot on her mind—she and Michael had been unsuccessful so far in trying for a child, and it was really important to them to make it happen. Diana had been so sweet and open, confiding that to Paige—it made Paige feel important that Diana trusted her like that.
But—Michael was in front of her now. He seemed interested in her—waiting patiently to hear her speak.
She tried to keep herself together—her every inclination was to break down and start crying from all the torment built up inside of her, even if it meant being held in those big, hard, sweaty arms of his.
Or perhaps, especially that. Being held. Being protected. Being made safe by this strong, clearly alpha-esque male who had so much control already over the other two women in his life.
Paige had, for example, never seen Diana in anything but high heels and leg-baring shorts and dresses. It was a good look for the older woman—she was beautifully leggy—but wasn't wearing them all the time, even when she did yard work and washed the car, a bit much?
Even if it was sort of hot, imagining Michael ordering Diana to do all that.
Shaking her head slightly to break off those licentious thoughts, she asked, “Is Becky here?”
“No.”
As he shook his head, long drops of sweat slid off from his brow and rolled down the front of his tight white t-shirt. It was easy to make out the bulging definition of his pecs and shoulders from beneath the damp surface of the cloth.
“Oh, it’s just...I just really needed to talk with her, is all.”
He nodded. “Did you call?”
“Yes. Her phone was off, though.”
He nodded again, making a sympathetic face. “Her boss makes her turn it off now.”
“Oh. I didn't know she was at work.” Becky worked at a movie theater. “I’m sorry.”
She didn’t know why she was apologizing. It felt like someone should apologize for interfering with Michael’s business.
He was so dark and serious all the time. It was a big turn-on.
“Um, is Diana here, then?” Paige asked hopefully.
He shook his head once more. “Nope. She’s at work too. She’ll be home in an hour or two, I think.”
“Oh,” Paige nodded. “All right, then. I guess I better go.”
She turned away from the door, but, sudden and strong, he gripped her arm. Paige’s breath caught, her pulse quickened.
Michael, touching her. Oh god.
Paige wasn’t a slut by any means, but she did play with herself early and often. Her own pleasure ce
nter—her pussy’s hot, tight folds and her sexy, sweet mound of a clit—were no mystery to her. She had developed quite an imagination when it came to fantasizing, and constantly took stock from her day, trying to tally up items to include as she dreamed up hotter and hotter scenarios.
And so she already knew that feeling—his iron-hard fingers on her athletic arm—that would be a feeling to follow her straight into the next several weeks’ worth of fantasies.
“Hold on a minute. You seem upset.” His handsome face carried legitimate concern. “You want to come inside?”
“No...no.”
She shook her head. Of course she did want to come inside. All any girl she knew—besides Becky of course—wanted to do was come inside and spend some alone time with Michael. But she couldn’t just go in like that. What if word got out? The neighborhood had dozens of eyes, all the time.
“Come on in,” he said. “I’m putting a smoothie together. I’ll make you one too.”
Gulping, she followed him in. Her pussy felt hot already—and exposed. Alone, with a man like him, it was difficult not to think of how easy it would be for him to hold her down, to put her in her place, to jam her mouth full of his cock...
Focus, Paige. He’ll think you’re weird, spacing out like that. Focus!
The kitchen was right inside the door, to the right. He chopped fruit at the counter—bananas and strawberries.
“So what’s the problem?”
“Oh it’s just...nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
She leaned up against the door frame of the kitchen, staring lustfully at his well-developed back, gazing longingly at his triceps flexing as he worked the knife.
“Come on,” he dropped some chopped banana in a small bowl next to the cutting board. “Tell me.”
She shifted, tugging at her denim shorts. They were so fucking short. She knew he could see a lot of her legs. Like, way more than what was decent. Her pussy was already sort of hot, just thinking about that.
“It’s sort of embarrassing now. I think I was just making a big deal out of nothing. I don't know. I don't want to bother you.”
He turned to look at her. “I'm not bothered. I promise.”
Finally acquiescing, Paige sighed. “It’s just...my mom’s ex, Dan, is going to be moving back in.”
“And you don’t like him?”
“Not really. He...” she took a breath. Why not tell him? Just let it out, girl. “He would hit on me, sometimes.”
Michael made a troubled sound, putting the rest of the smoothie ingredients in the bowl and walking over toward Paige. He put a hand on the counter, leaning close.
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. He’s kind of a creep.”
Nervously—Michael was so close, and his manly musk so strong!—she pushed a hand through her long dark hair.
“For sure. Nobody should be giving a girl attention she doesn’t want.”
With a smile, he put a hand on her shoulder.
Unable to help herself, she sobbed a bit.
“Oh god,” she said. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...”
“It's all right,” he assured her. “I'd give you a hug, but I'm sort of messy.”
Paige nodded, but bit her lip, wiping away the tears as best she could. “Could...c-could I have a hug anyway? These clothes need washing anyway, and I t-think I could really use one.”
Without answering, he smiled and drew her in. God, his body was so hard, so coated with sexy masculinity. This mixture of fear of Dan moving in and lust for Michael swept her mind away, until she could barely think straight. Her fingers slid up and down his strong, strong arms, and she let out soft little whimpering moans.
“I just don’t want someone like that living with me.”
“It’s okay,” he said, patting her on the back. “It’s all right. It’s going to be all right.”
His hand rested right above her ass. God, she wanted it to slide down so bad.
After a while, she calmed down, and they parted.
“Have you talked with your mother about it?”
“No.”
He made a sort of quizzical face. “Do you think that would help?”
“I don’t know. She really likes him.”
Michael nodded. “I’m sure she does. But I’m sure she loves you more than she likes him.”
“You’re right.”
She nodded, feeling hopeful. That was definitely true. And it wasn't like her mother hadn't listened—Paige just hadn't bothered to let her know how she felt, that was all.
He walked back over to the blender.
“How about that smoothie?”
“That sounds great,” Paige said, feeling relieved for the first time all day.
Wow. She didn’t know Michael would be so easy to talk to! He turned the blender on and the ingredients quickly cut into a liquified pink form. In short order, he handed her a tall glass full of delicious fruit smoothie and also held his own.
She could not help but feel hot and bothered, so much of his musk and scent on her now. Probably she should go home and shower, but she wasn't sure she could ignore the temptation to finger her hot pussy first, being able to smell him so strongly!
“I have to ask...” he began.
“Yes?”
Paige sipped at her smoothie. It was delicious.
“Was he overt about it? This Dan character?”
“Overt?”
“Like did he, what? Ask you out on dates? Want to take you away to the beach?”
She laughed. “No. He would say I looked great in skirts, or comment on how my breasts were...I mean, you see them. They’re huge.”
Smiling broadly, he nodded. Guys her own age would blush or try to shrug off such a comment. But with Michael, he just stared down at her tits, openly ogling her. Mmph. She liked his gaze on her.
“I guess you are a very...well-developed girl.”
Paige laughed. “If that’s what you want to call it. I just say I have big tits.”
It was very difficult not to feel so very adult, talking to Michael like this. She felt she could say anything—like he was the male version of Diana, almost.
“Yes,” he said, nodding and staring. “Big tits. You’ve got big, fat tits, Paige.”
Her pulse quickened. He was smiling, so that she thought he may have been joking, but there was something to the way he was standing so near her. The movements of his breath in and out. She tried to laugh as if he was trying to be funny.
“Are you against older men hitting on you generally, Paige? Or is it just some of them?”
“Um...it's um...” she started to giggle nervously. “I guess I'm not against older guys.”
His grin widened. It was almost predatory now...and Paige knew she was the prey.
“I'm glad to hear it. It’s pretty easy to see why he would want to hit on you.”
“Oh yeah?”
She tossed her silky dark hair back and preened.
He leaned forward. His voice became very low. “Yes, Paige. It’s very easy to see why someone would find you attractive.”
Something about his voice made her pussy tighten and pulse rhythmically. His scent—again, so sweaty and musky—was overwhelmingly masculine. She felt like such a helpless, easily-fucked babe in front of him. And she could tell, instantly, that being fucked by him would not ever be anything like being fucked from one of the guys at school. She knew that he would be hard, merciless, overwhelming—that he would push her over the edge of what she thought she could ever dare dream to feel. He would teach her to be a good girl, no matter what.
She whimpered, turning over to look at him. Her mouth trembled, so close to his.
“O-o-oh. Okay. I mean...”
She stood up, so nervous suddenly. She brushed her hair back, coughing and straightening out her shirt.
“I mean, okay! Thank you! You’re so nice. And I—” she hit the nearby counter, stumbling around the room. “I’m just going to um...I need to—”
&
nbsp; She giggled, lungs grasping for air. He kept coming toward her, though, his eyes low. She knew, instinctively, that he could sense her rampant desire and how badly she needed to rush home to give herself a nice hot cum just from being in front of him like this.
His hand squeezed her hip and he pulled her forward. Her hips ground against his. A moan pushed out from her mouth—she could feel how hard he was. More than that, she could feel how big he was. Oh god he was a monster!
With his free hand, he pulled a business card of his off the counter and pushed it into her tiny denim shorts. And not into the pocket—no, he reached down behind the zipper of her shorts, so his fingers brushed up against her silky soft pussy hair tangle.
“This is my contact information, Paige. If that man bothers you—if anyone bothers you—or if you just feel yourself needing to...talk...” he said the word slowly, “...then give me a call. Whenever you’d like.”
“B-B-B-b-becky m-might...um...”
He shook his head. “Becky doesn’t have to know anything about anything. Does she?”
She gulped again. His fingers were pressed right above her pussy, right above her clit, oh god! She could not stop rubbing her thigh against the obviously huge boner protruding from his gym shorts.
“I um—” she stuttered, trying to come up with something. “Oh gosh you know I think I left the sink on? So like um, I’ve probably flooded the house and need to call the fire department. The water department, I mean.”
A sly smile moved up Michael’s mouth. “Maybe both.”
“Both! So um bye okay! Bye now!”
He let her go, releasing her hip, and she rushed outside, blindly rushing around to the side of the house. So aroused was she, and her mind so completely blank with need, that she didn’t even care that she had knelt down right out in the open, in Michael's backyard, to touch herself.
Unzipping her pants, she let out a growl of need. Her greedy fingers pushed up hard into her slick, hot wet pussy.
“Michael...” she moaned. “Oh god, Michael, sir! Sir! Oh god, Michael!”
So excited, so turned on, so aroused was she that it did not take long for her entire universe of lust to explode. Fingers pushing hard against her young teenage clit, she came brilliantly within just a minute of build-up, needing to feel that sweet bliss of cum sooo bad.
The Knocked Up Lust Bundle Page 3
