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From: sundance69@hotmail.com (Sundance Tales)
Subject: (Sundance Tales} NEW! 'The Fan Man' [1/1]  (Voy, F-solo, F/M, Teen)
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''The Fan Man'

by Sundance

Copyright, 1998 : All Rights Reserved

First Published: 9/9/98

====================================================================

This is my second posting ever on USENET.  If you caught my first
effort, 'Amy Visits for the Summer', you'll recognize differences in
the approach to that story and this one.  Those differences were
intentional, in that I am experimenting with different story lengths
and varying degrees of emphasis on plot and character development.  If
you didn't catch that one, it can be retrieved from my web page
referenced below.

One additional note.  If you've already read this story on my web
page, it has changed, albeit slightly.  The changes are not
significant, but were instead focused in minor clean up of sentence
structure and hopefully a subtle improvement in flow and ease of
reading.  The web page version will be updated accordingly.

If you like this story or don't like this story, could I make a
shameless request? Drop me a line and let me know. I'm not at all
ashamed to say that external feedback is what keeps me motivated to
write. Comments / criticisms are always welcomed provided they are
constructive and provide opportunities for me to improve.

I can be reached at:

sundance69@hotmail.com

Or visit me at http://extra.newsguy.com/~suntales

Please don't repost unless you repost all parts of the file, including
this intro and the following disclaimer and NEVER post it on anything
other than a non-profit venue. 


Lastly.... Enjoy!

Sundance 

+==============+Now the disclaimer +=====================+

The following is a work of total fiction. The characters, names, and
places are all products of my imagination and any resemblance to
anybody or anything, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This story contains potentially obscene terms and sexually explicit
content that some may find to be offensive. If you are offended by
such material, or if you are under 21 years old, you have the option
to stop now and not continue reading. 

By continuing to read you are making the following legal statement: I
am over 21, I want to view a list of potentially obscene terms, and it
is legal for me to view potentially obscene terms in my community,
state, nation or province. 


If you're not sure... STOP now ..... Delete this text ..... This isn't
being forced on you.

+=====================================================+

I was looking forward to this time off. 'Use it or lose it', the
boss's words were loud and clear when referring to my leftover
vacation from last year. The kids were in school and the wife was
swamped at work, which left me with some quiet days and lazy
afternoons. I had a list of 'honey dos' I was working through, but I
would get to those later. I looked at my watch and realized I had just
enough time for a nap before the Andy Griffith Show started. 

I was two steps away from a comatose state within five minutes of
stretching out on the sofa.  Just as I was sinking into some serious
REM, expecting to wake to the sound of Andy and Ope whistling as they
made their way down to the fishing hole, my afternoon dreams where
shattered by the piercing ring of the telephone. I clamored for the
receiver, knocking it off the hook and grappling around on the floor
before finally lifting it to my ear. 

"Hello," I mumbled out of a groggy stupor. There was an annoying
silence on the other end of the line. 

"Helllooo," I repeated. There was still nobody there. I was just about
to throw the phone or hang it up, I hadn't decided which, when I
opened my eyes and realized I was speaking into the earpiece. "Shit,"
I mumbled out loud, turning the receiver right side up before making
one last attempt at conversation. 

"HELLO!"

"Craig?"

"Um... yeah?" 

"Craig, it's Cynthia. Did I wake you?"

"Oh Hi Cynthia. Uh ... yeah" 

"I did wake you? I'm sorry"

"NO! I mean... never mind", and I chuckled. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I know you're on vacation this week and probably really, really
busy, but I was just wondering if you could do me an itsy bitsy,
little favor." 

She was using that sweet voice of hers, not to mention the words 'itsy
bitsy'. I wasn't fooled. This was going to be a big favor. 

"And what favor would that be, Cynthia?" 

"Well, I bought these ceiling fans and the guy at the store talked me
into buying some fancy light switches that will turn on the fan
without the light and vice versa. Anyway, I was just wondering..."

"You were just wondering if I could install those ceiling fans and
fancy light switches for you this week while I'm on vacation, weren't
you?"

"Oh you're such a smart man!"

"Oh Cynthia, you're so full of it", and we both laughed. "Of course
I'll do it, but won't be able to get to it today". 

"Oh of course not", she commented after a brief pause. " It's almost
time for Andy Griffith, isn't it", and she snickered. 

"You're on to me"

"Actually, later in the week would be better anyway", she added. "We
can pick a time when you can have the house to yourself. I'll leave
the key in the usual spot and you can just let yourself in. Deal?"

"Well...on one condition. I'll be looking for my usual compensation"

"One of my world famous chocolate cakes will be waiting for you on the
counter"

"Then I think we have a deal" 

"You really are a sweetie, Craig"

"I know Cynthia - I know". I could hear her smiling through the phone.


				*****

Actually, I didn't mind doing such favors for Cynthia, even if it did
cut into my vacation. She is my next door neighbor, a good woman, a
hard working woman, who has been dealt a tough hand from life. Her
husband Frank passed away a number of years ago unexpectedly leaving
her with challenges far beyond coordinating home improvements. If I
could make her life easier by helping out with simple tasks like the
fan installation, I was always willing to do so, vacation or no
vacation. 

The challenges Cynthia faces as part of day-to-day life are only made
tougher by the fact that she has to face them alone.  These days her
biggest concern involves her oldest daughter Karen, now 17. Her
concerns regarding Karen are not the typical problems most parents
have to deal with.  Luckily, Karen has stayed far away from the
pitfalls facing many teenagers like getting involved with drugs and
alcohol or skipping school. No, Karen's problem, if you want to call
it that, is that she is a voracious flirt with an insatiable appetite
for male attention. 

The good news, I suppose, is that Cynthia is convinced Karen is more
'flirt' than 'action'. Still, I can see her concerns. If there are
such things as 'chick magnets', Karen is the original 'stud magnet',
and Cynthia is right in assuming that a lot of men caught in her
tractor beam will likely have single-minded intentions.   

Karen stands about 5'6 in height, with a flowing mane of naturally
curly blonde hair, striking blue eyes, and the cutest set of dimples
this side of a Shirley Temple movie.   Her shoulders are slender, as
is her waist, which makes her otherwise average bra size seem slightly
larger in proportion to the rest of her frame.   

At the tender age of 17, her infatuation with male adulation is
nothing short of obvious. Loathed by the neighborhood wives and
relished by the husbands, her biggest claim to fame involves the hot
summer afternoons when, sporting her bright orange bikini, she lathers
her body and that of her bright red Toyota in the driveway of Mother's
suburban home.  Males wander from the furthest reaches of the
neighborhood to glimpse at Karen bumping and grinding to her stereo
while kneading and scrubbing with her oversized sponge. Gasps can be
heard as she reaches so far forward that one of her blue deck shoes
leaves the wet pavement, all the while pretending not to realize her
tiny bathing suit leaves little to our wanting imaginations. 

The wetter the car would become on those hot summer afternoons, the
wetter Karen would become, and the more it seems her silver dollar
shaped nipples might pierce through the wet material of her thin
bikini top.  She would grab that big wet sponge with both hands and
squeeze hard until pools of soap would gather on the car's surface.
With her legs locked at the knees, she would lean across the hood and
move the sponge in slow, methodical circles, rocking her narrow hips
and tight bottom to the rhythm of the music. Knowing Karen, I'd bet
each stretch, each scrub was choreographed. She knows exactly the
effect she has on men and loves every second of it. 

Myself, I try desperately, but usually unsuccessfully, to stay inside
the house on car washing days, but always find myself sucked into
Karen's web like every other male within a country mile. I do have one
advantage, in that living next door affords me the masquerade of
pretending to handle some household chore or a car repair while I
watch the white foamy suds trace like lava rivers down her young,
tanned form. Like my peers, I marvel at how the thin material of her
bikini top barely clings to her ample young breasts. It doesn't seem
possible that there is enough cloth to hold in place that much
cleavage and, on several occasions, I've waited for her breasts to
burst free, to dance and sway for my admiring eyes. I'm wrong, of
course, as the material remains strained, but always in tact. 

The worst part usually comes when I get so consumed watching Karen I
don't notice her watching me, watch her.  The routine is always the
same.  She turns to face me, a bundled strand of her hair dangling in
front of her pretty face.  A heavy breath flings the hair to one side
without the use of her hands, followed by that sexy smile and innocent
greeting. 

"Hi Craig! Isn't it a great day", like she hasn't noticed my lecherous
glances. 

"Hi yourself", I always reply, followed by a pair of flaming ears,
ripe with embarrassment. "Hey, you can start on my car when you're
done".  

I really should think of something more original to say.  Still, she
always laughs at that lame reply, like it's the first time she has
heard it, even though I say it every damn time I got caught ogling. To
make matters worse, It's usually about that time that Cynthia arrives
home or comes out of the house and notices her nubile young daughter
in all her sudsy glory. 

"Karen! Can't you put some clothes on when you're washing the car? You
might as well be working at a nudist camp!" she always complains.

"Oh Mom -- But it's so hot out here", is Karen's usual reply, almost
always followed by a knowing smile tossed in my direction as if to ask
why I don't jump in to argue the case for bikini car wash day. 

Yes, Karen is quite the force to be reckoned with, and I'm sure, quite
the handful. I confess.  Even though I sympathize with Cynthia's
plight, I too would like to have my hands full around our dear Karen. 

				****

Cynthia and I agreed to do the fans later in the week. Thursday, to be
exact. That was the best time to do the installation without people
trekking in and out of the house. She would be at work all day, the
younger daughter was spending the night at a friend's house, and Karen
had cheerleader tryouts and wouldn't be home until late. I grabbed my
toolbox and made my way next door, finding the key under the mat and
the cake on the counter, just as she had described. 

I briefly surveyed the house, checking the back bedroom where one of
the fans would be installed. The house Cynthia had bought was fairly
old and the light fixtures were not going to support the weight of the
fans she had purchased. I would have to get up in the attic and
install some reinforcing brackets before I even thought about how to
address the wiring for the fancy light switches. 

I found the fans still in unopened boxes in the same room. As I
checked everything out I was pleasantly surprised to see the
ever-suggestive salesman had included the reinforcing brackets I
needed. I inventoried the necessary tools to ensure everything was in
tact before setting out to locate the attic access point. I found the
porthole in a walk in closet just off the guest bedroom. I positioned
my ladder and, with my trusty flashlight in hand, climbed up to
explore the crawl space. 

The batteries in my flashlight were running low and the light emitted
was dim, if almost non-existent. Once in the attic I had to navigate
my way around the tight crawlspace in near darkness without any real
idea where I was. I had decided the first fan would go one of the
girl's bedrooms so I made my way due north to that general section of
the house. Not completely sure if I was in the right place, I could
see a trace of light seeping around the edge of an air conditioning
vent. I loosened an attached duct and pulled it back so I could see if
I was in the right place. 

The slats of the vent were a good three-quarters of an inch apart,
which made it easy to see down into the room below. I could tell it
was one of the girl's rooms and not Cynthia's, but I wasn't sure which
one. There was a pink ruffled bedspread with a series of stuffed
animals all neatly aligned and posters of some rock band I'd never
heard of on the walls. I continued to scan around until I spotted on
the dresser a picture of 'Mr. Quarterback', Karen's latest boyfriend.
This was the right place, all right. However, it was clear I'd have to
get these damn batteries in this flashlight replaced before I could
make any real progress on the fan installation. 

I started to back out of the crawlspace when I heard the front door
open and close. That was odd. Somebody was home. Within moments the
stereo was on and judging from the type of music playing, I was pretty
sure it wasn't Cynthia. The phone rang a couple of times and I could
hear somebody answer it, but still couldn't make out who it was. The
mystery was solved within a few moments when I saw Karen enter her
room carrying a shopping bag and yapping into a cordless phone. 

Now what the hell was she doing home? Surely Cynthia would have told
her I was coming over to do the fans. Oh well. I'd just sit tight, as
I was sure she'd be leaving any second for cheerleader tryouts. 

I watched quietly as she reached into the shopping bag and pulled out
some type of outfit wrapped in plastic. With the phone clutched
between her shoulder and ear, her conversation never slowing, she tore
through the packaging and laid out the individual garments on the bed.
It was a red and white striped cheerleader's uniform with the high
school insignia emblazoned across the front. Confident, aren't we, I
thought to myself. The try-outs aren't until this afternoon and you're
already buying the uniform? Typical Karen, ever the optimist. From her
side of the phone conversation I guessed it was one of her girlfriends
on the other end of the line. 

"Yeah, he was over the other afternoon." Pause. "Well, what do you
think we did???" Giggling. "Yeah, it's this afternoon. That's where my
Mom thinks I am now, at try outs". More pauses. "No, remember, I don't
need to. I was varsity my sophomore and junior years so this semester
I'm automatically in. I picked up the uniform today. Looking at it
right now. It's really cute. I can't wait to try it on". 

Neither can I, I thought to myself, thinking ahead to a time when I
would get to see that little 'hardbody' coming to and from practice in
that skimpy cheerleader outfit. God what a lecher I was. Finally, with
the call ended, she returned to admiring the outfit on the bed when
the phone rang again. 

"Hello? Well. . . hellllo there birthday boy", she purred, in a little
sexy little voice similar to how her Mother asked for favors. 

Must be Mr. Quarterback. I doubted any conversation with Mr.
Quarterback would be a short one and thought it a good time to get out
of here. This attic is hot and I'd rather be sitting in my recliner,
sipping a cold Coors and watching Jerry Springer than listening to
this teeny bopper swoon over some jock. I'll just wave on my way out
and tell her to call me when she leaves so I can finish the fans.
Hopefully I don't give her a heart attack. I started to back out of
the attic when I sensed a change in Karen's voice inflection and in
the topic of conversation. My curiosity peaked and I scooted on my
stomach back over to the air conditioning vent and peered down into
her room. 

At first I thought she had left. Then, as I looked around, I noticed
her in sitting in a type of sprawled position on a nearby chair. She
was leaning back, holding the phone in one hand, while using the other
to curl and uncurl her long blonde hair. Her seated position provided
a much-improved view over her roaming around the room. 

She was wearing a thin white cotton sundress with large blue polka
dots. The dress seemed to be a half-size too small, as it hugged every
inch of her slender frame, leaving very little room for extraneous
movement. Two thin spaghetti straps connected the front to the back.
Again I noticed how large her breasts seemed in proportion to her
frame. They seemed much too developed for a teenager, I was sure of
that. Just like in the bikini, they seemed to be fighting for freedom.
The top two buttons of her dress remained undone, providing a teasing
and very provocative view, especially when looking down from above. 

The white of the dress perfectly accented the golden tan she got from
spending so much time washing and re-washing the car. As she relaxed
in the chair, the short one-piece outfit raised up, providing a very
erotic view of her shapely athletic thighs. Her one knee was bent; the
other extended, which left her legs slightly spread, revealing
intermittent flashes of her white panties. 

I knew looking down on her secretly like this was so wrong. It was a
complete invasion of her privacy and I knew it. But honestly, as wrong
as this was, it was so arousing. I could feel the stir in my trousers
as my imagination raced with erotic thoughts of young Karen. 

In my private fantasy I could see myself entering her room as she
spoke on the phone and whispering for her to keep my presence a secret
to whoever was on the other end of the line. I envisioned a
mischievous grin crossing her sexy mouth as she watched me approach,
slowly descending into a kneeling position in front of her. I could
see in my mind's eye her legs parting as I pushed up her short skirt.
I could imagine starting at her muscular calf muscle and using my
mouth to work my way up her thigh, one succulent inch at a time, until
I was able to run my teeth over the moist cotton of her white panties.
I could imagine how she must taste as I pulled to the side the thin
strip of material that shielded her sex from my wandering tongue. The
more I looked down at her, the more my mind raced... and the more
aroused I became. 

"Did you have fun the other night", I heard her sigh into the phone, a
broad smile crossing her lips as she teased Mr. Quarterback. Again
there was a pause. "You know what I mean -- did you have fun?" 

More pauses, but this time the pace with which she was playing with
her hair quickened and she began to stroke it with the palm of her
hand. "Uh huh...Uh....huuuhhhh". Her words were slower now and more
drawn out. I couldn't hear what they were talking about, but judging
from her reactions it sounded pretty intimate. She released her hair
with her free hand and began to unbutton the front of her sundress. 

'Oh, yes baby', I thought to myself, my eyes growing wide in
anticipation. 'Take -- it -- off'. 

Again wedging the phone in between her chin and shoulder she used both
hands to finish the remaining buttons, pulling open her sundress to
reveal her firm, gorgeous breasts. She was tracing the fingers of her
free hand along the edge of her lace bra and then down across her
nipples as she began to rub her thighs together. She continued purring
into the phone as she used her free hand to work loose the front
fastener of her bra. I couldn't believe this was happening. Now I was
stuck. Not only could I not tell her I was here, I'd be a fool to
announce my presence at a time like this. 

"Cmon baby, keep going", I heard myself whispering out loud. 

"Yeah. . . . And then what will you do to me", Karen moaned into the
phone. 

There was no mistake where this conversation was going. With her bra
undone, I watched her raise her bottom far enough off the chair to
slide her panties down her thighs. She bounced the cotton briefs on
the end of her painted toenails for a moment before flinging them off
to an area of the room I couldn't see. She leaned back in the chair
and spread her legs revealing a blonde patch, glistening slightly with
traces of wetness. By this point there was no turning back. I was so
aroused, watching my fantasy girl begin to pleasure herself, without a
clue she was being watched from above. 

I couldn't look away as she slowly ran her free hand up between her
slender thighs. Her entire palm crossed over her crotch in gentle
stimulation. She began slowly, running her fingers inside her moist
opening, in and out, back and forth in gentle strokes. This continued,
speeding up, then slowing down, entering deeper, her facial expression
one of intense, erotic concentration. 

"Yeah, baby, yeah... and your mouth...what would you do with your
mouth," Karen moaned. 

Her breathing was getting louder and her breasts were heaving upwards
as the pace and rhythm of her fingers quickened. Her round nipples
were standing at attention and she would pause briefly from stroking
between her legs to squeeze hard and tug at her sensitive points,
leaving them even more erect with each pass. Eventually she clutched
the phone with her chin so that one hand could work her breasts as the
other massaged her steaming pussy.

"Ohhhh...godddd...oh yeah...oh yeah... I...I think I'm going to cum",
she gasped. 

She almost couldn't finish her sentence as her hand continued working,
faster and faster, the tides of her orgasm beginning. Her moans became
louder, her entire arm was now moving in frenzy, her legs stiffening
straight out and spreading wider. I moved back and forth in my
attic-hiding place, trying to find some relief by rubbing my hardened
cock against the rafter as I watched her cum. 

The waves of her orgasm caused her to thrash about in her seat, her
hips rocking up and down against her imaginary lover. She was pretty
much a screamer. I could imagine Mr. Quarterback's ears were hurting
from all the noise, but then again, he was probably keeping busy
himself on the other end of the line and didn't mind. The whole
orgasmic scene seemed to go on and on, until finally, her movements
slowed. Still, it was obvious from the look on her face that she had
more to cum.

"I want you RIGHT now Jeff. I NEED you. How fast can you be over
here," she whispered, finally resting from her pleasure. There was
almost no pause this time. I sensed it didn't take him long to answer.


"Ok, hurry. Oh yeah, I've got something for you too.... I'll give it
to you when you get here", and she hung up the phone. 

She leaned back in the chair with her eyes closed, her bare breasts
heaving upwards towards me, her tanned legs were still spread in front
of her. I was transfixed on her form and almost didn't notice as she
opened her eyes, staring upwards towards the ceiling, then to the
general area of my attic hiding place. 

"Shit!", I mumbled to myself, quickly rolling on my side so she
wouldn't notice me peering down through the vent. My heart raced with
a mild state of panic. A few moments passed and I heard her stand,
likely on her way to calling the cops. Slowly I leaned across and
looked out the edge of the vent. I breathed a sigh of relief, as it
was obvious she hadn't seen me after all. She was moving around the
room, just as she had been doing before the call. 

"Whew, was that ever a close one", I mumbled out loud. I rested for a
moment than peeked back down into her room. 

She pulled back on the shoulders of her sundress and let it fall to
the floor, followed immediately by her bra. She was standing nude next
to her bed, her fingernail clenched between her teeth as she looked
around, seeming to contemplate her next move. I watched with
anticipation. Her body was everything I had imagined. Firm, young, yet
so well developed. My moment of desperation when I thought I had been
discovered was long past. This whole experience was so sexually
charged it had left me mad with desire and I waited with painful
anticipation for whatever would happen next. 

She moved to the bed and picked up the garments individually, putting
on each layer of the cheerleader uniform, not bothering with her
panties or bra. She grabbed the accompanying pom poms and proceeded
over to the full-length mirror located in the corner of the room. She
bent over slightly, posing, before launching into what must have been
some team cheers, swaying her hips, bending down, and lifting her leg
above her head. All I could imagine was pulling up that short skirt
and taking her from behind. I wanted that little girl so bad right
now. 

Each time she moved I caught a fleeting glimpse of some part of her
bare anatomy. The whole scene, the tease, was driving me crazy. I was
squirming in my limited space, my mouth dry, my breathing heavy,
wanting so badly to find relief. I could only lie still and watch for
so long. Sooner or later I would have to get out of here or die of
erotic torture. 

Suddenly the doorbell rang. Mr. Quarterback had arrived. She left the
room to answer it. I first thought that would be the last I would see
of her and would have to lie here in the attic until one or both of
them left. However, it was only a few moments and the two of them
returned to her room. She grabbed the pom poms and did a little dance
for her guest. 

"How did you get over here so fast", she asked in between cheerleading
moves. 

"I borrowed my Mom's car. Told her it was an emergency". They both
laughed out loud. 

"I was just trying on my new uniform. Do you like it?"

"I especially like it with your boobies sticking out like that",
referencing the hardened outline of Karen's nipples pressing against
the sweater material. 

'Boobies', I thought to myself. I remember when I used to call them
'boobies'. Ah, the joys of youth. 

"So do you want your birthday present now, or later", she quizzed him.


'Skip the present exchange, dude', I thought to myself. 'Jump her
bones already'. 

Obviously not listening to me, Mr. Quarterback elected to receive his
gift now and Karen went to the closet, returning with a gift-wrapped
box. He opened it and held up a shirt that was larger than normal. He
was probably hard to buy for. He was a big kid and obviously spent
quite a bit of time in the gym. Your typical stereotype, buffed out,
football jock. As he continued to admire his gift, she returned to the
mirror to look at her reflection. No denying, she was sexy as hell,
but I wasn't sure who was having more fun admiring her attributes, her
or me. 

"So I have another birthday present for you", she purred, examining
herself in the mirror from top to bottom in the sexy cheerleader
outfit. 

"What's that?"

"Well...I picked today... ". She paused and turned to him. "To do that
thing with my mouth you've been wanting me to do". My jaw practically
dropped. "Would you like that?", she whispered innocently. 

Jeff Quarterback was leaning against the wall now, his muscular arms
crossed in front of him, smiling. 

"You know I'd like that" 

She strolled over to him, dropping the pom poms to the ground along
the way. Reaching him, she started with her hands on his shoulders,
running them slowly down his chest until she reached his belt.
Clenching handfuls of his shirt material, she worked it loose from
inside his pants and helped him to pull it up and over his head. I was
right about his gym work. 

He was a pretty classic specimen of the male species. Tarzan-like,
with large, well-defined shoulders, a ripped midsection, and a broad
chest; the type of guy who could easily pass for a contestant on
American Gladiators. I watched as her eyes became hungry over his
physique, digging her fingernails into his exposed flesh. She began to
slowly work loose his belt while he reached forward lifting her short
cheerleader skirt, just now realizing she was without panties. 

"Hmmmm....you're ready for me", I heard him growl as he started
mouthing her neck. 

He gripped and massaged her bare buttocks with his strong hands as she
worked steadily on his buckle. Unbuttoning his pants she dragged them
down and he sprang forward, only partially aroused, but not for long I
was sure. Standing in front of him she took his man-sized cock in her
hand and began a slow, methodical stroke. His moans were loud and I
found myself hoping that, in his youth, he could last, as this was
just starting to get good. 

She left his cock unattended only for a moment while she helped him
step out of his jeans. Finished with that, she stood to face his nude
body, running her fingernails slowly down his chest. He was fully
erect now and she grabbed his thick shaft and led him like a pony
across the room and into a seated position on a cedar chest located
near the opposite wall. Why she chose that spot to work him over
instead of say, the bed, I wasn't sure, but I couldn't have planned
the whole situation better. I could see directly down from above and
had a perfect profile of her kneeling in front of him while his stiff
cock raged towards the ceiling with anticipation. 

Karen shuffled up between his legs. She looked up in his eyes as she
grabbed the bottom of her cheerleader sweater and pulled it up, but
not off, revealing her firm young breasts and erect pink nipples. She
moved closer, carefully brushing her tits against his huge erection
and she began to lick the underside of his neck. Finally, she leaned
back admiring his swollen member as she gripped in once again in her
small hand. 

"I'm not sure how to do this", she sighed with uncertainty. 

"I'll guide you.... It's easy". For such a macho guy, he was very
gentle with his words. "Just start by kissing it"

She leaned forward and brushed her thin innocent lips across the head.
He was already wet and she paused to brush aside the goo that had
started to form on her lips. She used her hand to clean aside the rest
of his pre-cum before resuming with her mouth. She began slowly,
kissing him, the way you might kiss a sleeping friend; gently, yet
with affection. This went on for a few moments and she eventually
opened her mouth a little wider, taking in a bit more of the head. 

The view was astounding. She was on her knees, her sweater pulled up
to just below her neck, revealing the profile of her firm breasts as
they brushed against the inside of his thighs. Her cheerleader skirt
was hiked up slightly and the cheeks of her bare, tight ass were
clearly visible. She had one hand resting on his knee for support; the
other gripped tightly around his throbbing dick. She would
periodically throw her long curly hair to the opposite side of her
head to avoid it getting in the way of her mouth, which was perfect
for helping me to take in every erotic detail of this private lesson
in cock-sucking. 

At first, as she continued, I thought she might stop. Being as young
as she was it takes time to truly enjoy giving, as well as receiving,
oral pleasures. But she fooled me. Continuing slowly, with each third
or forth kiss, she would take a bit of his cock in her mouth. I
watched as his well developed thighs began to quiver against the floor
as she opened her mouth still wider, sliding more and more of his
shaft down her throat. She eventually paused, clearly out of breath,
but careful not to leave him wanting for long, using her hand to pump
and maintain his arousal until she was ready to resume. 

"Are you liking this", her strained words in between breaths. "Am I
doing ok?"

"Oh baby, yes. Can you... maybe... take a little more of it in your
mouth", his whispering plea. 

"I'm trying, but you're so big. Jeff, this is making me so hot -- I
don't know how much longer I can keep it up"

After her last rest period she had lost track of any inhibitions. I
don't know how many times he had tried to convince her to go down on
him before, but I bet he wouldn't have to beg next time. She was into
it, and in a big way. 

He was too thick for her to take all of him in her throat, but her
oral strokes were now long and luxurious, reaching at least two thirds
down his girth. She moved her hand up to work the base in unison with
her mouth, stroking, sucking, and stroking some more. In the course of
several minutes this girl had gone from an insecure amateur to
practically a starring role in a feature length porn video. I could
tell from the look on his face and the trembling of his limbs that he
was close.

"I'm going to cum baby", his staggered words. 

She stopped immediately and stood up in front of him. His dick
throbbed, but he held back his ejaculation. 

"Not yet...not until I do", she responded. 

"Well cmon then", and he tried to pull her into a straddled position
on top of him. 

"No, not yet. Where is your Mom's car parked"

"Out in front, why", his voice clearly irritated. 

"You need to go move it. The neighbors will see it and know you're
here. They'll tell my Mom. Go move it around the block"

"Cmon Karen". He was starting to whine. "Let's just finish this and
I'll go move it as soon as we're done. I swear". 

"NOW Jeff", she ordered in a scolding voice. "I'll be here when you
get back". 

It was almost laughable watching this 5'6 little girl exert so much
control over this 6' foot plus he-man. He stood up, pouting, threw on
his pants and shirt, and stomped out like a small child who had just
been sent to his room. Gone now, she stood and pulled down her
cheerleader sweater. She moved to the mirror and began straightening
her hair and brushing the saliva from around her mouth. 

"Who would have known", she asked the person staring back from the
mirror's reflection, "that sucking cock could be so much fun."

I smiled as she continued to talk to herself. 

"I mean, if I would have known it was that much fun, I wouldn't have
held out so long, -- you know what I mean Craig?"

I froze. What was that? It sounded like she said my name. I watched as
she stopped her primping and turned to face upwards towards the air
conditioning vent, her hands on her hips. Again, I rolled on to my
side and out of view as fast as I could. 

"HEY! I'm talking to you up there!"

I shut my eyes for a moment and tried to think. She knew I was up
here, but how could she know? How long had she known? What was next? I
rolled on my stomach and slowly looked out the slats of the vent,
which probably looked a lot like the jail cell I would be peering out
of some time soon. Seeing my face reappear behind the vent, she
continued talking as if I was sitting right there with her. 

"I mean, he's been begging me to do that for some time and I just
thought it was gross. But I kind of liked it. Do you think I did a
good job? I mean, HE obviously liked it, but what did you think?"

She just stared up at the vent, waiting for me to answer. 

"How did you know I was up here", I finally spoke, not addressing her
original question. 

"Well... you're not exactly discrete, Craig. First of all, your ladder
is hanging half way out of the guest bedroom closet and that access
thingy for the attic is sitting on the floor. I thought you had
already been here and left, until I heard you rolling around up there
and all that heavy breathing when I was -- uhm, uhm", and she cleared
her throat, "talking on the phone". She started to giggle. "At one
point I was looking straight up at you. Didn't you notice?" 

"Well actually, I thought I did. Why didn't you say something? I would
have left, or at least given you some privacy. I figured if you heard
me up here I'd scare you to death"

She had returned to her primping in the mirror, but continued to talk.


"Oh, you're harmless and I figured out a long time ago how much you
like to watch. I mean every time I wash the car you're out there
pretending to be fixing something in your front yard. A couple of
times I thought you were just going to whip it out and do yourself
right there. You probably would have felt a lot better…. Mr. Blue
Balls," and she started to laugh. 

I felt myself blushing. "Well, I'm sorry. I'll leave before your
boyfriend gets back". I started to inch my way out of the attic. 

"You can stay if you want!" she called out to me. Then in a quieter,
slightly embarrassed voice, "I mean... I really don't mind. I was sort
of having fun knowing you were watching. It was kind of turning me
on." 

I scooted back up to the vent and looked down at her. "You didn't MIND
me watching?" The skepticism was obvious in my voice. 

"Why do you think I had him sit right where you could see, not to
mention making sure my hair was pulled to the side so you could - you
know, get the full view"

I couldn't believe this was happening. What I was hearing? I wasn't
sure how to answer her, but I thought this was a good time for me to
act somewhat responsible. 

"Karen, I better go. This was wrong and I'm sorry"

"Suit yourself", she said, acting disinterested. However, I could
sense something else in her voice -- an uncertainty, a subtle form of
embarrassment. She was trying to act tough with me, tough beyond her
years, but her stern exterior was cracking. If I didn't know better, I
would have thought she really did want me to stay. I continued to
stare down at her. 

"Karen, like I said. Hiding up here was far from intentional." I
paused. "I won't lie. You're a very sexy young lady and I'm glad
you're also sweet enough not to have me arrested. But, like I said,
this was wrong and I should go now, before anymore damage is done".
She finally looked up at me. 

"I guess", and she paused, as if she might not finish her sentence.
"I guess I just thought you might like to stay and watch us fuck". 

She couldn't make eye contact with me, but was obviously waiting for
my answer. I was dumb-founded. Stay and watch her fuck? I don't
fucking believe this! I remained silent. 

"Well, would you", she asked in an irritated voice, finally looking up
at me again. "Answer me!"

"Well, honestly -- sure Karen, I'd love to stay and watch you fuck",
more sarcasm evident in my voice. But then I heard myself take on a
more serious tone as my last words just hung in the air. "But...
Well... Will you tell anybody?" Oh great, now I was starting to
negotiate. Insanity had sat in for sure.

"Oh right...Who am I going to tell? Certainly not my Mom and if Jeff
found out he'd string us both up. Of course, I could just pretend I
didn't know you were there, act really scared and mad, and then you'd
be the only one getting strung up"

"Good point", I replied and we both laughed. 

"Look, if you want to stay, I'll even let you come down out of the
attic and hide in my closet. You can really see good from there"

This was not happening. I must have been dreaming or experiencing an
acid flashback. I paused, thought about it, and figured, as Tom Cruise
once said when referring to similar Risky Business -- "Sometimes
you've just got to say, 'What the Fuck'. "

"I'll be right down", my last words as I scooted backwards out of the
attic. 

"Ok, I'll get ready for you", a weird sound of excitement in her
voice. 

I made my way down the ladder and into her room. She was just coming
out of the closet. 

"There, I set up a seat for you. Oh yeah, use this, " and she handed
me a dishtowel. "I'll kill you if you get anything on my outfits"

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

At that moment we both heard the front door open and close. There was
no time for her to answer. She pushed me quickly inside the closet,
shutting the doors all the way until there was only a thin opening
from which I could peer out. She jumped on the bed and assumed a
waiting position as Jeff entered the room. 

"There you are...we thought you would never get back"

"We -- who's we", Mr. Quarterback chuckled. "It's just you and me
here, babe"

"Of course it is", she mumbled, pulling him on the bed and starting to
undress him again.  "Of course it's just you and me."

			THE END








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