We live in a small Midwestern town on the shores of Lake Michigan. Making a very comfortable living from the small business we own, my wife and I have one child, a stunningly beautiful and extremely intelligent girl named Amanda. This story involves her although in an indirect way. My step-daughter Amanda works part-time at the local Pizza Parlor; a job my wife and I got her because the owners are our clients. We asked them about a summer job when Amanda was sixteen and they told us to send her in. After a formal interview she was hired as a Trainee and went to work the following weekend.

Even the part-time help had a few benefits; he first was that employees and their families could buy as much food as they wanted and only paid half price. My little girl making her own money, she could pay for the gas that went in the car we bought her, as well as her shopping trips. She even put every other paycheck in her savings account, so I was happy. But what would prove one day to be the greatest benefit was when Amanda and the young girl who trained her at work and became such good friends. This girl and Amanda soon began hanging out on the weekends when they didn't work, often finding themselves at our house because I was fairly relaxed with the rules.

Sometimes I think back to when Amanda first brought her new friend over to the house; I was working in the garage, putting a pair of new pipes on one of the Harley's. The bike stood sideways and since I was between it and the back wall, I went unnoticed.

I remember glancing through the bike and seeing the blue hood of Amanda's car, I kept right on working. But when I heard a second door slam shut, I took another look to see who was with her. Standing beside the passenger door was a young girl; wearing dark denim Capri’s that fit her like a second skin, but what made my throat go dry was, quite frankly...her ass. Believe me, I have been an admirer of that particular part of the female anatomy since I can remember and I know a first class ass when I see one.

She wore a tight green tank-top that clung to her rounded, perky chest as tightly as a newborn monkey clings to its mother. There was also a white blouse that was completely unbuttoned, covering her shoulders and gently waving in the cool breeze that blew through our yard. I'm talking a teen cover girl type here people; the kind of girl who can pull off twenty-one or twenty-three maybe, but in fact is just over the legal driving age. Whereas Amanda stands well above the roof of her car at 5'8"...Whitney is much shorter, closer to 5 foot 3 inches and 100 pounds. I think it was about then that I broke the silent, almost magical moment by dropping the wrench I'd been holding. The loud noise it made when it hit the concrete floor brought the attention of these two teen beauties directly towards me, as Amanda called out, "Hi Dad! This is Whitney, from work; we're going to hang out for a while."

I should at this point interject some valuable information on my step-daughter. For one thing, she's an outstanding student, straight A's and that's with all Advanced Placement classes her senior year, too. Another thing is that she's drop dead gorgeous; 5 foot 8 inches, 120 pounds, hazel eyes, wavy hair down to her perky 34-B chest, and an ass that gets me going in a heartbeat. She's also a virgin, much unlike most of her friends. I'm proud she's managed to hold on to her virtue...so far. Whitney however is as far from a virgin as one can get, if all the things my little girl tells me are true.

Poking my head out from behind the rear of the bike and watched as Amanda turned and headed towards the house. At the same time, her friend Whitney gave me a small, gentle wave...delicate fingers dancing on the wind, white teeth flashing a bashful smile and then turning to follow my girl inside. Her long, straight black hair swirling about her head as my gaze dropped to watch her cute butt sway back and forth as it slowly disappeared from view. The entire thing may have lasted less than a minute; felt like more than five and left me sweating, shivering and suddenly aching behind my zipper. My God, I thought as I shook my head in disbelief...they didn't make ‘em like that when I was young! Not long after, my thirst got the better of me and I went inside to see if I could find something to quench it.

After downing a cold drink, I wandered down the hallway towards my bedroom, as I'd forgotten the keys to the bike. I stood in the hallway and peered through the 2-inch gap that the girls had left when they swung my daughter's bedroom door (not quite) closed. I heard soft rock music playing, the chit-chatter of their exchanged words and an occasional giggle. For a moment I was lost in the comfort that Amanda had made a good friend and how valuable that sort of thing is, especially to a teenaged girl who lived out on the outskirts of town.

I was suddenly brought back from my daydream to reality when I heard Whitney's voice say, "Oh, I want to try this top on! Can, I?" To which my daughter must've nodded or responded too quietly for me to hear. I took a step forward and then just as suddenly back again, afraid the door would open and they'd catch me standing there with a dopey look on my face, not to mention the thick bulge growing between my legs. Then, just as I was about to return to my garage work, Whitney stepped into my line of view. Her dark hair hung down to the bottom of her shoulder blades as she reached back and pulled the shirt up and over her head, tossing it onto the bed she stood before. With her back to me I could see the thin strap of a white bra just before her long black hair covered it, and then I fixed my pupils lower...on that tight, round little ass of hers. I took a good long look at it, confirming that it was indeed sculpted in perfection, my cock thickening, twitching and rising at a few of the thoughts that filled my middle aged brain. As she turned while pulling one of my step-daughter's top over her head, I got a side view of her breasts incased in a tight white bra. They were much fuller and larger than Amanda's, although at her age still had the firmness of youth on their side. I bit my tongue to keep myself from groaning at the sight, and the erotic thoughts that flooded my mind.

When I heard what sounded like footsteps approaching from within, I made tracks back out to the garage as quickly and quietly as I could. The image of Whitney's semi-nude upper body was stuck in my head for good, not that I'd ever willingly forget the image. From that day on I took every opportunity to check out Whitney; whether it be going to pick up pizzas for dinner or when she'd come over to hang out with Amanda. Every single chance I could see her, hear her laughter and talk to her was one I took. Of course I tried not to let my infatuation with the young nymph show because I knew it would cause nothing but problems for me. Besides, I was more than twice her age and knew she'd never look at me in any way other than an old figure and a friend's father.

Besides being any man’s walking wet dream, Whitney always seemed to act a little shy around others. There were times when she and I were alone for just moments and I always thought she flirted and acted more friendly when Amanda was out of earshot, but I could never be sure. Combine that with her hour glass figure, the fact that the top of her head just reached my shoulders and you can image all the possible fantasies I had when she was around. As time went on I often got lost in her bright blue eyes, which were a stark contrast to her pale white skin and jet black hair. They stood out on her face like twin beacons that draw your eyes to them, melting your defenses as well...coincidentally the same way her perky 36-C chest grabbed your attention and beg to be caressed, tweaked and suckled endlessly. On her small frame they looked massive, and I often jerked off while fantasizing about them and her pointy nipples!

Weeks went by and turned into months; and throughout that time I tried to never let my interest be too obvious, yet I felt myself drawn to know everything about her I could. Fortunately for me, my step-daughter and I are very close and she shares a lot of things with me, and I with her. We share secrets and I think she likes it that she can talk to me about things her mom wouldn't approve or have knowledge of. But that's a different tale, now isn't it?

One of the things I did learn was that Whitney had been dating the same guy for the last year and half, but that every so often they'd have a big argument and break up. During that period she'd go out with other guys until they cooled off; then they'd get back together again. During these cooling off times, my daughter often told me how Whitney acted like a slut, even telling me that Whitney had often told her how much she enjoyed sex! One time she blurted out, ‘She once said she spent an entire afternoon sucking her boyfriend's dick!' These types of revelations usually ended up with the two of us in a discussion about sex between boys and girls, something she dared not bring up with my wife. Even though at first I thought it was strange that she'd come to me for advice on sex, I soon realized it was because I told her things the way they were; no bullshit just because she was a virgin and she trusted me because of that.

She also told me how Whitney had confided that when she was out with a guy she didn't want to have sex with, she'd be sure to give him a hand-job or give him a blowjob so the guy wouldn't go away mad. She told me that Whitney had told her she was always worried about being labeled as a ‘tease.' Like an overprotective father I quickly told her that Whitney sounded like a slut to me, to which I was informed, ‘oh she doesn't do anything until after the second date...that's her rule.' Kind of a contradiction in terms, I thought but even a promiscuous girl like Whitney did have some rules about when she slept with a guy or so it seemed. Amanda further explained how Whitney told her no one ‘got any' until the third date...period. Later that day when I'd have a chance to go over our conversation in my head, I realized just how far fetched my fantasies were about her friend. While she was very easy on the eyes...it obviously wasn't as easy to get into her pants. On a strange note, even though I still regarded her as a tramp, I kind of developed a little respect that she at least waited a little while before she slept with a guy.

Another thing I learned was that Whitney loved to party, and by party I mean drink. She wasn't into wine or beer either, this tiny waif of a woman liked hard liquor and plenty of it. Amanda would describe how her friend would go to drinking parties on the weekends, especially during the times when she broke up with her steady boyfriend. Funny thing is, she sounded more and more like the female version of me when I was in high school and I was amused by the similarities between her and me. Of course I had to downplay this around ‘sweet and innocent' Amanda because I was walking a tight-rope concerning my attraction towards a girl like Whitney and keeping my own step-child from turning into the very same thing!

One time I'll never forget happened a couple months later that first summer after she came into our lives. I knew that Amanda was planning on going shopping with one of her friend's that day, but hadn't thought much of it. I had been out mowing the yard all morning and was putting away the tractor when Whitney pulled into the driveway. We smiled at each other as she hopped out of her car and said our usual ‘hellos' before it happened. You see, sometimes I have this way of blurting out what's on my mind before I have a chance to use my head and think ‘should I really say that?'

It happens fairly frequently and I usually can cover it up with some humor if it's taken the wrong way. On this particular day when Whitney had come around the front of her car on the way towards our back door, I noticed her attire or rather lack thereof. All she had on was a pair of sandals, a pair of tight short and a thin white tank top that did everything it could do to accentuate the ripe melons beneath it. She had noticed my sweaty condition and said, "You look like you could use a long, hot shower Mr. Z," which was a nickname she had begun to call me due to the first initial of my family name.

Looking back I can't say for sure if I'd heard it because of the way my over-sexed brain was wired or if she had actually meant for the words to relay a secret double meaning, as though she'd put more emphasis on the words ‘long hot shower'...but the next thing I knew I was listening to myself say, "It'd be hotter if you joined me."

In a mere ten seconds all of the following details took place and seemed to transpire at a much slower pace than they probably did: I forgot to inhale as I thought about what I'd just said and suddenly hoped that she hadn't heard me. Too late; she stopped dead in her tracks, slowly turned around and stood staring back towards me within the shaded garage. I began to see a pictorial; images of my wife looking angry, followed by my daughter looking hurt and then of all my neighbors whispering about me behind my back. Instead of any of those things happening, what I did see and hear had nearly the same shocking effect on me. Whitney's mouth opened slightly; I noticed the edges of her white teeth, the hint of tongue tip traveling along her lips, playful blue eyes and her hair glistening in the mid-day sunshine as she spoke directly to me and said, "Too bad, I've already had my shower today."

Then she spun around and continued on inside the house, all the way shaking her tight little ass in an exaggerated stride that erased all doubts that she was putting on a show for my benefit. I stood still for at least a full minute as I felt the thickness of my sex organ begin to deflate just a tad, not realizing it had swollen that much throughout t he previous minute or two. In the tight cut-offs I wore I couldn't help but wonder if she'd noticed although I'd seen no evidence thereof. My brain must've told my body to breathe again, as I felt the trickle of sweat run from my neck down my back, causing me to shiver as if I were chilled. Or was it the delicious image of the way she strutted for me, knowing my eyes were glued to her shapely backside? I turned and walked to the workbench, leaning my back against it as I replayed the scene over and over. Had she said what I think she said? She must have, I finally concluded, because I surely hadn't imagined it! But alas, as the hanging wall clock ticked by on its endless circular voyage...I realized that even though the words had come from her, she was certainly only teasing the older father of one of her best friends. I shrugged it off as teenaged folly and went inside the house for that suggested shower.

As I walked inside I became aware of just how warm it was outside because I could feel that the air conditioning had come on. The girl's were in Amanda’s room and I could hear them talking, the music, the laughter and I suddenly began praying Whitney wasn't in there saying something like, ‘You'll never guess what your dad just said to me'. But I concluded after a few minutes that she must've kept it to herself as I slipped into one of the bathrooms and stripped naked. The hot water felt great on my glistening hot skin as I washed the work of the morning off, and when I emerged from the room I found the house had grown silent; my little girl and her sexy friend must have left for their shopping trip.

A couple of months later I was sitting at the kitchen table writing out bills one evening when Whitney had called and asked to speak to our daughter. I'd told her that Amanda was working late and would be a couple hours late. I thought it strange that she was unaware of a schedule change because the two of them were constantly texting or calling each other whenever they weren't at school or the pizza shop, but I soon forgot about it. Not ten minutes later I heard the sound of a car in the drive and went to see who it was, knowing that my wife wasn't due back until later that night. I felt a twinge of confusion as I held the screen door open for none other than Whitney and she explained, "I had nothing to do so I thought I'd hang out here until Amanda got home."

At this point, it could be taken a couple different ways; I knew that her home life sucked and maybe Whitney didn't want to be there for some reason. Perhaps this now seventeen year old young lady, for whatever reason simply liked the idea of hanging out at our house. And maybe, just maybe this elf-sized girl with a centerfold's body and a mind for erotic escapades (or so I'd been told) wanted to jump my bones and make me a very satisfied fan of hers for life. The idea of being on the receiving end of one of those blow-jobs I'd heard so much about was making me throb even then. But something way in the back of my mind told me that Whitney would never be more than a fantasy because of the way she could turn it off and on for weeks at a time.

She sat at the end of the kitchen table and we chatted about things while I finished up with the household paperwork. Each time she looked away I found myself admiring her chest, which was slightly exposed from the semi-buttoned blouse that stretched over them. I knew that she'd caught me sneaking a peek more than once, but since she didn't seem to mind...I didn't stop looking. When I offered to get her a soft drink, she quickly hopped up and went to the fridge herself; I watched as she bent over, peering within as if not being able to decide, and I took the opportunity to familiarize myself with every square inch of her perfectly shaped rear end. I must've been daydreaming because she looked back over her shoulder and remarked, "Like the view, Mr. Z?"

My face turned slightly red, but I boldly answered the question with one of my own by declaring, "What's not to like?"

She straightened up, walked back to the table with a Coke in one hand, and instead of sitting down, she stood right next to where I sat. So close that I had to tilt my head back to look her in her eyes, although when I turned my head to do so, I was nearly eye level with her twin globes and couldn't help but notice her now protruding nipples. I wondered if it was the cool air from the refrigerator, the sexual tension that had begun as we openly began to flirt or a combination of the two. I warned myself that she was most likely just teasing me; seeing how far she could push me before I backed off, because after all I had far more to lose than she. But I wasn't about to back down, well...at least not without having some fun myself. "Would you like to pop my top," she asked.

I knew she was talking about the soda can, so I grabbed it without letting my eyes leave her own and said, "I'd enjoy that very much," as I opened it for her. She took a big gulp and licked her red lips, leaving them looking wet.

"Sure would like something stronger," she quietly said. I considered the fact that Amanda was supposed to drive tonight and that this girl was only seventeen, but I stood up and went to our liquor cabinet. I withdrew a bottle of Jack Daniel's, pouring a healthy amount into her can and as I returned the bottle I said, "Now I could get busted for giving you that, so I hope I can trust you not to tell."

When I turned to face her, she had stepped forward so that I literally ran right into her, feeling her chest collide with mine for just a moment as she slowly said, "Oh don't worry, I'm very good at keeping secrets."

Then she took another long drink while she looked up into my eyes, finishing with a sinful smile.

Not to back down first, I returned her challenging gaze while telling her, "That's good to know, Whitney."

We passed the next half hour as if we were playing tennis, but instead of balls we used words and exchanged playful banter back and forth. Then suddenly she suggested I show her my Harley which was parked outside in the garage and we soon found ourselves out there; she admiring the chrome, while I admired her curves. With the main garage door down it was far more secluded than one might think and our conversation continued in the same suggestive way as when we were in the house. At one point she asked me where something was on the bike and I told her it was near the bottom of the frame on the opposite side from where we stood. Instead of going around, I watched as Whitney slowly bent over to see the object in question, laying her flat tummy across the seat and allowing her legs to spread slightly. My cock jumped and pushed against my jeans, causing my mind to conjure up a most devious image indeed as I stared openly at the way her ass was pushed upward in my direction. My desire to touch her then was becoming overwhelming, so I strolled around the bike and stood just in front of her as she lifted her angelic face towards mine, but stopped short when her eyes connected with my covered, but obvious excitement.

She slowly stood then, nipples still acutely in need of attention and smiled seductively up in my direction and said, "I sure would like you to take me for a ride sometime," but the tone was darker than the words portrayed. With one hand twirling a lock of long dark hair in her fingers, she smiled sweetly but didn't wait for an answer when I didn't respond fast enough. Whitney asked me bluntly, "Mr. Z, would you like to take me someday?"

Those two little words she'd emphasized so strongly I knew she was daring me to react, but fortunately for me I had heard the sounds of a vehicle approaching in our driveway. Most likely it was my daughter due to the time of the evening and she'd be drawn to the garage because of the lights that were on within. I think she thought she'd won; that I wasn't responding because she'd finally stumped me, but I was simply calculating my comeback so she wouldn't have time to answer before the approaching footsteps reached us. At the last possible moment I whispered, "I've wanted to since I first saw you," I said. Her eyes widened and her jaw slightly dropped open, but before she could utter a single word Amanda's face appeared in the open service doorway, "Hi Daddy! Oh, there you are, Whitney. I hope you didn't wait too long for me."

Whitney turned and went to join her friend saying, "I didn't mind at all."

Like I said, the next time I had a chance to see Whitney it would be completely the opposite; sometimes she wouldn't say hello or even look my way. She was very hard to read and moody most of the time it seemed. Three, four visits would go buy and I began to think that the night out in the garage had been as close as I'd ever come to Whitney; although in truth we'd never really touched or made any plans. I went back to my role of a good husband and daddy, living as I always had and keeping my fantasies where they belonged...in my head. After a while I began thanking the Lord that it hadn't gone any further, even then aware how if it had it may have been the stupidest thing I'd ever done even though undoubtedly one of the most exciting.

Fast forward a few months; the Holiday season had arrived and everyone seemed to be in a good mood. Oh sure, folks still complain about the cost of everything and grumble through their daily grind, and yet they're still in a somewhat better mood during that time of the year. I remember my daughter asking if she could have Whitney over on Christmas Eve, even though it's always been a very strict rule in our house, that on that particular night we only did things as a family. She pleaded with her mom and me, explaining how terrible things were at her friend's house now, and eventually she wore us down...we relented. After all, soon our little girl (who wasn't so little any more) would graduate from high school, turn 18 and be off to college, so we figured we had to start loosening the reins sooner or later. When we gave her permission, Amanda looked surprised and we explained our thoughts; I think she realized then that even though we seemed over protective of her, we knew someday soon we'd have to give her up.

Whitney arrived and I purposely tried to avert my eyes from her direction whenever possible, simply because if I looked at her too long I was afraid I'd start getting a hard-on. She was then and still is a beautiful young woman, who by every indication wanted to do nothing more than forget about the flirtatious relationship we'd shared up until now. We made sure to have gifts under the tree for Whitney so she was a part of the festivities when that time came due, and even then I had a tough time imagining her not here, because in some ways she'd become so close to our family over the past couple of years. I wondered where that relationship would go when Amanda was off in college and Whitney stayed around here, working and getting on with her life. We knew our daughter was destined for a great life because of her grades, determination and drive for success.

It was during that holiday evening; after the drinks, the meal and the presents were opened that I realized she hadn't just asked for permission for Whitney to join us for the evening but in fact was asking if she could stay the night. Not wanting to be the scrooge and send her home, I went along with it as if it didn't really matter. And basically it didn't, except for the fact that the feelings I still harbored for her began to churn within me; my thought returning to the times when she and I would flirt innocently between us, and that one night where there was nothing innocent at all about the innuendo we shared. I couldn't help but entertain the fantasy about walking in on her while she was taking a shower, being invited to join her and the two of us making passionate love under the steamy spray until we jointly climaxed and...wait, where were my wife and kid during all this? That's the problem with most fantasies...they never work out in real life.

Around midnight I finally convinced my sleepy wife to go to bed, promising that I'd clean up a bit before I joined her.

A little while later I knew I'd have to ask the girls to keep the music down so as not to wake her, but when I knocked on their door and got no answer I assumed they'd fallen asleep with the stereo on. I opened the door just an inch or two and seeing my daughter's closed eyes in bed confirmed my assumption, so I pushed the door open enough to step inside and turn the music off. It was when I glanced around the room that I received an unexpected Christmas reward. Whitney was fast asleep in the recliner Amanda kept in her room. But she must've been too warm and threw the heavy blanket off in her sleep because I found myself gazing at her nearly nude form. She wore a pair of red panties that were cut low on her hips, not much bigger than a thong. A white tank top was all that covered her glorious globes, and even that was cut off near the bottom of her ribs, revealing she'd had her belly button pierced. As my eyes widened I could clearly see the softened form of her nipples beneath the cotton fabric. A sudden thought entered my mind and before my brain could engage and force me to see that it was too dangerous, I found myself retrieving my Canon from the den and retracing my steps to stand above her once more. I pointed the lens downward and fired off a couple quick shots, vowing to have a keepsake for the rest of my life that would have to suffice, short of experiencing the real thing.

I heard a rustle behind me and turned suddenly only to see my step daughter rolling over in bed, her back partially exposed to me now. From past experience I knew that when my step daughter went to sleep, not even an atom bomb could wake her up! There was many times where she'd sleep for 8, 10 and 12 hours as if she were dead to the world. My moment of alarm went to relief and then back to terror once more, as I turned back towards Whitney who was moving about as well. My heart was racing much faster than when I'd entered the room with the camera and I wondered what they'd say if they found me here in the morning, dead from an apparent heart attack. Because when Whitney had moved in her slumber she had stretched her arms above her head, inadvertently catching the edge of her tank top on a ring or something. She'd pulled it up and exposed her entire right breast and a portion of her left, to my adoring eyes. I quickly snapped a few more photos, including a couple from a kneeling position where I could see all of her teenaged chest; those twin beauties in the semi-darkness rose and fell with her shallow breathing, ...thick, pointy nipples capping dark pink areolas that were almost too perfect to be real.

Next, as if reading my mind, her right hand suddenly slid in a southern direction until her delicate finger tips disappeared below the hem of her red panties as she sighed in her sleep. I tried to will her to slide them deeper within, to touch herself even more for the camera because it would be such a perfect picture, but it never happened. I withdrew myself from the room, dousing it into darkness as I slid the door closed. I must've sat in my easy chair for half an hour trying to will my hard-on away and get my heart to calm down before I crept off to bed. But it was no use; I couldn't get that image of Whitney out of my head and finally decided I'd give in and jack-off so I could get some sleep. But even after that it was a night full of tossing and turning. I ended up waking my wife in the pre-dawn hours of Christmas morning for a furious fuck! I felt bad because I knew she thought it was entirely because of the love that we shared, but in truth I saw the image from the night before as I pounded her pussy into blissful submission, cuming twice before I felt myself shrinking away!

After breakfast, we asked Whitney to attend church with us but she refused, explaining that she had better get home and spend at least some time there, even though she didn't appear very happy about it. As she was saying her good-byes and giving each of us a hug, she suddenly shook my hand as well. I felt her press something into my palm and I shoved my hand into my pocket without looking at it. We all watched her drive off, knowing we'd made her Holiday better and content with the decision to share it with her. I pretended to suddenly need to use the bathroom before we left for services and it was in there where I opened the tiny note she'd written just for my eyes. It was at that moment that I realized we now shared a very special secret, far more serious than any of the flirting that had passed between us up to this point. It was short and to the point: Someday I want a picture of you!

More weeks passed by; our daughter's high school graduation and eighteenth birthday was coming up in a few short months and I seemed to be very busy at work, too. We were planning on having a big party to celebrate her achievement and her big birthday. Although I wasn't thinking about it a lot, I did think about that note almost daily. Of course I'd flushed it right after reading it, although it was tempting to retain it as a keepsake, but it wouldn't do me any good if someone found it.

There came a day a few weeks following Christmas where my wife was away on business and my step daughter was at her biological father's house overnight. I think it was a combination of being extremely horny and remembering how I used to shave down below when I was younger, as it made me feel so sexy! I still occasionally did so and my wife didn't think it was strange; in fact, she always seemed to enjoy sucking my prick more when I'd do so. I soon found myself in our shower, leaving all my fuzz in the drain as I washed away the remnants of shaving cream. After I had dried off, I went into the den nude and sat down in my favorite recliner. I was leisurely stroking my dick while fantasizing and viewing the pictures of Whitney. I had hidden them on my laptop in a file I knew no one but an expert hacker would ever be able to locate. My cock was straining; the head throbbing with desire as I pictured her wet lips and head bobbing up and down my shaft ...wondering if she'd be able to take all nine inches down her throat, when the idea struck me. I jumped up, retrieved my Canon, a ski mask and the dressing mirror from my wife's walk-in closet. (It was on wheels and mounted in a large oval frame that had a regular mirror mounted on one side of it.) I placed the mirror opposite of my recliner, set the camera next to me on a small table and sat back down.

Once again I began stroking my meat stick as I closed my eyes and the fantasy image of Whitney developed before me. She was on her knees, holding my cock between her breasts as I fucked her sweet tits and saw her eyes looking into mine. Those red lips parted as she panted and begged me to cum all over her face.' I could feel my balls tightening as I brought myself closer to climax. Then I opened my eyes, slid on the ski mask and pointed the lens towards the mirror. Within a few minutes I had several poses of my nude form, predominantly displaying my smoothly shaven, cock and balls. I carefully went back through the pictures I'd taken and deleted all the ones that showed anything that could be identified in the room around me, such as the picture that hung behind the recliner. Settling on one as my choice, I uploaded it to my laptop and placed it within that secret file. The photo showed my body from my masked head down to my knees. It was the perfect picture to send to Whitney, if that day ever presented itself. Then I finished whacking off, shooting a tremendous load of my spunk into a wad of tissues as I dreamed of Whitney's sumptuous chest.

A couple months before the end of her senior year Amanda had come to me and asked if she could go to a party that Saturday night. "It's after work and I'll be going with Whitney", she explained. This of course gave me a jolt at first, as I knew how much Whitney liked to drink, but on the other hand I did want my innocent little girl to experience some of these things before she went off to college. She explained that she wouldn't be drinking because Whitney had asked her to be the designated driver, so Whitney could get drunk. When I pressed her for more information she explained that it was Whitney's eighteenth birthday that weekend and she wanted to get drunk! After going over a ton of useful tips on how to handle parties, drunk boys hitting on her and a smashed friend...I gave her permission to go. My wife was very concerned, but I convinced her we had to start letting her go, because in a few short months she be off to college and out of our control.

When the night of the party finally arrived, my wife had been fighting a bad cold all day and finally took something to make her sleep and went to bed, but only after I promised to wait up for Amanda. However she unexpectedly showed up just after 10:30 pm, which seemed awful early since they'd only gotten off of work at 9:00 pm. She told me how Whitney had disappeared almost as soon as they'd arrived at the party and since she couldn't find her, she'd just come home. I calmed her down and put her to bed as she was clearly exhausted from the day's events. Just about 20 minutes later I heard Amanda's cell phone ringing and as you may have guessed, it was Whitney. 

She was drunk, needing a ride home and wondering where Amanda was. I explained to her how she made my daughter feel when she disappeared at a party where everyone was a stranger to her and I think Whitney understood, even though she wasn't thinking too clearly. I agreed to go pick her up and soon found myself driving Whitney home as she occasionally mumbled incoherent things beside me in my SUV. I couldn't help but admire the outfit she had on, which consisted of white sneakers, a tan skirt and three or four tight t-shirts of varying colors. From the way the shirts clung to her I could tell there was no bra beneath them, not that Whitney's chest needed support. Her long black hair was tied into a ponytail with a thick pink ribbon, which she informed me, was given to her by Amanda.

"Say Mr. Z," she suddenly yelled.

"Why don't you just call me Jon, now that we're both adults," I teased, emphasizing the word ‘adults'. She smiled because of it being her 18th birthday and that I'd recognized it.

"Can you drive around for a while, Mr., err… I mean Jon? I can't go home too shit-faced or my old man will know." I looked at my watch and rolled my eyes, but assured her I'd try and help her kill some time before I dropped her off. A perfect opportunity, yes; take advantage of a woman when she's drunk, no. I wondered what she was planning on doing, having my step daughter drive around half the night until she sobered up didn't seem like a good plan to me. A trip to the McDonald's drive-thru for a late night snack helped, but when I asked her about her boyfriend, she'd only remarked ‘fuck him' and changed the subject, so I figured they were fighting again. It was then that she slurred, "I know you want me."

I whispered back, "What's not to want," and she giggled, remembering my earlier remark but pressed on ahead.

"I, I think I want you too, but...," she began and then, "...but I don't want our first time to be in a car." Many things flashed through my head; I'd been ready to hear her say but I was too old, but I was her friend's father, but it wouldn't be right, but anything other than that. From the stories I'd been told, I has assumed that she was exactly the type of girl who'd do IT anywhere the mood struck her. Perhaps this young lady wasn't such a slut after all. It was those thoughts that were in my head when I heard her say, "Amanda says you're the best Dad ever, even better than her real father. She really loves you, ‘ya know."

I answered without turning to look in her direction, "Yeah, well I love her too...more than anything."

Then I heard the sounds and felt movement as she slid near me. Still not giving in to temptation and looking at her, I half wondered if I was afraid to break the magical moment building between us. At that moment I felt the softness of her fingertips as she touched my chin, gently turning my head to face her own. I must've looked confused to her about where this was going, but then she removed any doubt. "We have to keep this a secret and never, ever let her know."

And then, as if we were two actors on the set of a movie, Whitney leaned forward, watching my face for a reaction until her eyelids fluttered closed moments before contact was made. The kiss was magical to say the least; time moving in slow motion as I tasted her lips and mouth while she tasted my own. I felt one of her hands touch my chest and then grab my shirt in her fist and pull my body tighter towards her own as our kiss deepened. Our heads tilting opposite of each other, she opened her jaws wide and allowed me to explore her teeth and mouth with my hungry tongue as our lips melted into one. Out of the blue I began touching the smooth skin of her throat with my left hand as I drew tiny circles towards her ear, eventually coming to rest at the back of her head as the passion increased between us. I imagined what it would be like to tug and pull on her pony-tail, but I left it alone for now.

When we broke that first kiss it wasn't a clean break, as we repeatedly kissed each other; I was sucking on her young lips and she biting mine. I began to plant small kisses from her rounded chin along her jawbone until I reached her ear lobe, where I sucked it into my mouth and ever-so-gently bit on it. Then I began nibbling along the edge of her ear until I reached the top, where I could let go of it with my lips and blow warm, moist air into her ear. I felt her shiver and knew it was having the effect that I was hoping for. After that, I simply returned to her mouth, where she grabbed my head in her hands and planted a ferocious kiss on me; this time she was the one who thrust her tongue into my mouth and flicked it back and forth; all around until she had to gasp for breath. "Oh my god," she exclaimed, "No one ever kisses me like that!"

"That's because the boys you spend your time with are all about speed and not quality." Suddenly, she crawled onto my lap, placing a knee on either side on me; I hit a button and powered the seat all the way back. She looked me dead in the eye and announced, "Pictures may be worth a thousand words, but I prefer a live performance," as she took my hands and placed them onto her cotton covered breasts.

Next she put her arms around my neck, lacing her fingers together behind my head and leaned in for another round of heated kissing. As we investigated each other's lips, I massaged her tits as if they were the last pair on earth and she began to moan her approval every now and then. Frankly, I wasn't sure how far I should take it as images of her screaming out as I bit down hard on her thick nipples, ran through my skull. I wanted to ravage this little girl, but more than anything I wanted this to be the beginning instead of the end.

Waiting for her to take the lead turned out to be the right move because after a few minutes of making out, she began to tug at the bottom of her shirts. I quickly peeled them upwards until her superb boobs burst from beneath, pointing straight at my hungry mouth, confirming my theory about the lack of a bra. I could plainly see that she'd been tanning without a top on. Without waiting for permission this time, I began massaging them with both hands until I had her knobs between my thumbs and fore fingers; kneading, pinching and gently twisting them until they stuck out from her mounds half an inch! I was amazed at how big they were, although obviously as natural as the rest of her. When she broke our mouth to mouth contact, I lowered my lips downward and latched onto her right teat to suckle it like a famished newborn baby.

Whitney completely enjoyed the way I alternated between swirling my tongue around a nipple, biting and then sucking on it hard. Before to long I switched and gave her other side some much needed attention while I pinched the first over and over. I was aware that she had tilted her head back and was now groaning quite a bit and I wondered if anyone parked nearby would hear her when they returned to their vehicle, not that I cared. Without a doubt I knew she felt the large sausage that was nearly hard inside my jeans as she rocked back and forth atop of it. Just at that point I heard her say through clenched teeth, "Oh God, don't stop. I mean, oh shit, I, I, I can't believe it but...," she trailed off and never finished her thoughts as she began shaking as if having a convulsion. I felt her pulling the back of my head against her chest, mashing my face against her glorious chest as she stiffened for a minute before settling back against my steering wheel.

I released her two cantaloupes and leaned my head back and said, "What was all that about?"

I really felt stupid when it hit me that she'd just had an orgasm. Before I could say another word she hugged me tightly. "My god Jon...you made me cum just from playing with my boobies! No one's ever done that to me before."

"It's that ‘speed instead of quality' thing again," I replied as I noticed the clock on the dashboard; 1:37 am. "We should get going," I reluctantly told her, pointing to the glowing chronometer. She seemed truly disappointed and told me she didn't want to go home. A plan formulated in my head faster than I'd have thought possible and we put into action. I'd take her back to our house, where she could stay in the guest room tonight. In the morning I'd tell my wife and daughter the truth...well, most of it anyways. My wife was knocked out on sleeping pills, Amanda was out like a light and Whitney had called up drunk. What was a guy supposed to do? I went and got her, brought her back home and put her to bed to sleep it off. Seemed plausible to me, and I found out the next morning that it made perfect sense to my family when I told them the fabricated story.

When I awoke the next morning I went about my normal Sunday morning routine. But when it came time to get ready for church, I convinced my wife and Amanda to go without me because Whitney was still asleep and I didn't think she should wake up and be here all alone. Ten minutes after they'd pulled out of the driveway, I quietly made my way to the guest bedroom and slid the door open an inch or two. I walked into the room and stood next to the bed over her body. Just then she startled me when her eyes popped open and starring up at me, she began to giggle.

"Oh you think that's funny, do you," I said. "You could give an old man like me a heart attack, you know." From beneath the covers her hand came, reached for mine and then playfully tugged me to sit next to her.

"You're not an old man and I don't like it when you say that."

"Well, thank you for the kind words, Whitney. Would you like to get up and have some breakfast," I asked.

"Yes and No," she said. "I want some breakfast but don't want to get up. I want you to give me breakfast in bed."

I actually took her seriously and was about to tell her she was crazy if she thought I was going to serve her food in bed, when I felt her hand groping my lap. As the smiles faded from our faces, I felt Whitney's fingers searching for my cock through the pajamas I still wore. Sitting beside her, her other arm wrapping about my neck and pulling me down so our mouths could once again convene in passion. As we rekindled the fire we'd started less than a dozen hours before, I felt her begin to stroke my dick, which wasted no time in growing to its full length and thickness as she whispered into my ear, "Hey, what about those pictures you took of me? Do you still have them? "

"I still have them and one of me as well; ...just didn't know where to send it."

I saw her flash that sexy smile and knew she'd give me an email address before this day was through. Standing up, I dropped my pajamas and briefs to the floor, allowing my nine inch prick to spring straight out in front of me. She looked impressed and I only hoped she wasn't just acting. Scooting her ass toward the head of the bed she licked her lips in anticipation; I melted as she unsnapped her bra and set those twin beauties free. She then bent forward and grabbed my fat joy stick, tugging me forward until my leg hit the edge of the bed and I had to bend my right knee to keep from falling. In that moment she looked up into my eyes as she flicked the end of my cock head with her wet tongue. Was I entering heaven or what?

For the next ten minutes or so I watched as she kissed her way up and down my shaft; licked every square inch of it; slurped on first one...then the other...and finally both of my aching balls. She made a big deal about bobbing her head while never breaking contact between our pupils. Her cheeks hollowed and the fingers of one hand wrapped tightly about my base while the digits of the other one scratched and tickled my sack. I was grateful I wasn't forced to remain silent, but could in fact vocally encourage and praise her efforts. When at last I felt myself reaching the point of no return, I said, "God Whitney, I'm going to cum!"

Her answer to this was to jam my cock deeply into her throat and grab my ass with her tiny but strong hands, making gurgling noises as my body shook. Hot spunk shot straight out the tip of my dick and into her belly, splashing and coating her stomach with the breakfast she had asked for. Keeping my eye on the clock I knew we had just over an hour before they came home from church and I was determined to take something similar from her. Having a young nympho like Whitney sucking on the end of your dick, does seem to get you to orgasm a bit quicker than normal. I knelt down beside the bed and reached for her shapely little legs, still hidden from view by the bedding.

"What are you doing," she asked as she felt my hands under the sheets, tugging at the silky panties I found covering her firm shapely butt. She allowed me to pull them off, withdraw them and drop them on the floor. Giving me a shy but seductive look, she bit her lower lip as I slid her forward towards the edge of the mattress and slowly pulled an ankle to either side of my body. Taking her left foot, I raised it to my lips and kissed each toe one by one, eliciting soft squeals that turned into moans when I began to lick and suck them into my mouth. When she leaned back into the pillows, I lifted her leg even more; trailing wet kisses from her ankle, up along the back side of her leg until I'd circled her kneecap and headed straight for the neatly trimmed triangle I saw between her muscular thighs. It was as dark as the hair on her head and seemed as if to point straight to where I wanted to go. Her sweet outer lips were already puffy and opening, a clear sign of her excitement, and yet she still said to me, "Jon, you don't have to do that; I know most boys don't really like to anyways."

In answer to her statement, I dipped my tongue into her slit at the lowest point I could reach, sliding it in about a quarter inch and then slowly running up to the top and back again. When I slid both hands under her small ass in order to hold the fruit as I ate it, she bent her legs far apart, groaning as I continued to plow into her with my nose, lips and tongue. Glancing towards her face I saw she was pinching her nipples and that her eyes were barely open as I ate her quim. Then suddenly her legs clamped down on my head; releasing and pressing together as she thrashed about in the throes of orgasm. Her slit was leaking badly, juices beginning to run over her puckered asshole and soak the sheets.

When I saw how long her meaty clitoris was and how it grew from the upper cleft of her twat, I worked my lips around it, clamping down as tightly as I could. With one hand, I pushed two fingers inside her pussy and began to steadily finger-fuck her to a quick second orgasm, humming around her clit as my teeth gently bit down. I felt her hands grabbing at my skull as she pushed her hips against my sucking mouth, so I bit down on her silky nubbin and heard a scream as I lapped through her second round of cum. As her hungry adolescent cunt clamped tightly around my glazed digits, I tried to catch the breath that I'd given up when she drove my face between her legs. Her juices were like nectar and it was the elixir I needed.

Afterwards, she apologized for nearly ripping the hair from my scalp, but I told her it was more than OK. Truthfully, I was just pleased I could make her cum like that without all that much effort. She said none of her ‘boyfriends' ever went that far, as most of them didn't even like to eat pussy. I crawled up towards her and she surprised me by pulling me into her embrace, kissing me as she stroked my face and held me to her breast. I glanced up at the clock and told her we had a short thirty minutes or so before the girls would be back. Bounding from the bed in excitement, she yelled "last one in the shower's a rotten egg!"

By the time I walked into our master bathroom, she had the water on and was standing under the shimmering water; watching it cascade down her tiny, stunning body was enough to get my cock going again. "What do you mean, we can have a quickie and still be all scrubbed clean by the time they get come," she whined like a little school-girl.

"Yes, I agree with you," I began. When she started to complain I held a finger to her lips and said, "Do you remember how you didn't want our first time to be in a car? Well I don't want our first time to be a quickie." When I put it like that she relented, although with her pouty lips she was oh so very close to getting me to give in.

END - PART ONE - GHOSTWRITER 2015