Mr. Hart sat with Tracey on his lap. She still had on the tight, white merry widow, the dark, lovely nylons hooked into the garters, and her white high heels. She had her arms around his neck. He petted her thighs.
Mr. Hart explained how his father had left him a corner lot in the downtown area with a crumbling old pool hall on it.
"Worth practically nothing," he said. "But then the city council invited in a major developer to renovate the downtown area. They offered to buy my corner. It was important to them. I held out. They kept raising their offer. I still held out. Finally they made me an offer I couldn't refuse."
"How much?" Tracey asked, kissing Mr. Hart on the cheek.
"A little over a million dollars."
"Wow!"
"So, you see, I could make you very happy."
They hugged and cuddled in silence. Then Mr. Hart said: "I have an idea. Why don't we just take off? We could travel for a year, stay at the best resorts. You could pretend to be my daughter."
"Wow, that's wild, Mr. Hart!"
"Call me Harry," he said.
"Would we spend lots of money?" Tracey asked.
"I'll tell you what. I'll bring my credit cards and a hundred thousand dollars in cash. How's that sound?"
It sounded good to Tracey. She'd never heard anyone talk about money like this. She wiggled on his lap.
"Sure," she said. "I could go. My mom would be happy to get rid of me."
"Then it's settled!" he whispered. "We'll do it, okay?"
"Okay!"
"Next week, say Tuesday. I'll pick you up at school, and we'll take off. You needn't bring any clothes. We'll buy all new ones for you."
"Jeez," Tracey mumbled, excited by the offer of travel and money. "Sure, Tuesday!"
Mr. Hart pushed her back on the couch. She cocked up her knees. He straddled her, stiff and manly, his cock hard. He pushed it into her tits. She pushed them together and fluffed them around the rigid stalk. He stayed on top of her, his cock fucking her tits, the pricktip touching her mouth.
She was so pretty. Her mouth hung open. His cock slipped between her lips. She nibbled the giant cockhead.
"Oh, darling, darling, darling!" he gasped. "We'll have so much fun!"
Then he pulled her from the couch. They got down on the floor and lay together. Tracey grasped his huge prick. She fisted the stalk and jerked.
"I wanna see you, jerk-off again!" she whispered.
He rolled over onto his back. She got up on her knees beside him. He took his prick in his hand and slowly jacked it.
"Oooooh, that looks good!" Tracey whispered. "I love the way that looks!"
"You do, huh?"
"Yeah, I wanna see you squirt again. Can you?"
"Just watch," he said, and his hand fucked faster on his cock.
"Beat it, sir! Jerk your big cock for me!" Tracey groaned.
"Like this?"
"Yeah, wow! Like that! Hammer that cock! Oh, sir! Do it! I love that! Do it faster, sir!"
He hammered. He jerked. He fucked his fist, and Tracey got so excited she had to stick her finger in her cunt and diddle her pussy.
"Ah, yeah! Fuck yourself!" he whimpered, drubbing his massive prick.
"I like it when it slobbers, when it bubbles like that, sir! When it gets all creamy! Wow!" she said.
Tracey bent over at the waist, her face just above his jacking action. She watched intently. Her sweet ponytail hung off her shoulder.
Mr. Hart pumped harder.
"Do it, jerk off! I love to see men jerk off!"
Tracey yelped. "Oh, oh come on, sir! Faster! Oh, yes! Like that! Oh, harder! Whooooooo! Shit!"
He came.
His cock shot off. Spunk jetted upward and splashed on Tracey's tits, chin, and face. She opened her mouth and let him shower her with his cum.
"Mmmmm, uuuuhhh, whooofffff, yeahhh!" she moaned.
Tuesday came.
Tracey woke up and put on a tight, short jeans skirt. She added brown sandals and a tight white sweater and went to school.
She was excited all day by the prospect of Mr. Hart picking her up after school to take her away, take her to rich places, take her to romantic destinations.
School let out. She walked down the steps. She had left all her books in her locker. She had left a note for her mother at home that she was running away.
Mr. Hart pulled up in a big black Mercedes. He pulled it over to the curb. Tracey got in. He was excited to see her.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"Sure," Tracey said, relaxing in the plush leather of the seat.
"Look in there," he said, handing her an expensive leather briefcase. "Just snap the lock."
She opened the briefcase. Inside were stacks and stacks of hundred-dollar bills.
"Wow! Jeez!" she gasped. "Whew…"
"A hundred thousand dollars… and we're gonna spend it and have fun," Mr. Hart said, reaching over and petting her leg.
They drove away.
"God, you look good!" he whispered. Tracey saw the erection in his gray slacks. She smiled.
"Should I give you a hand-job while you drive?" she asked sweetly.
"Oh, yes," he said heatedly. "But first I have to stop for some gas."
They pulled in at a Texaco, filled up, and were leaving the station when a red pick-up swerved in front of them out on the street.
Eugene looked like a wild man behind the wheel. He forced the Mercedes to take a left on a side street. Then he forced Mr. Hart's car to the curb.
"Who is this idiot?" Mr. Hart asked.
"It's Eugene," Tracey said.
"Who?"
But Eugene was already standing beside the door of the Mercedes. He pulled it open. He had a shotgun.
"What the…"
He yanked Mr. Hart from the seat and pushed him up against the fender. He cocked the shotgun and blasted a hole in. Mr. Hart's stomach. He blasted again and ripped part of his head off.
Mr. Hart slumped dead to the street. "Come on," Eugene said to Tracey. "You're comin' with me!"
Tracey grabbed the briefcase. She got out. "Where we goin', Eugene?" she asked, walking to the pick-up.
"Mexico, I guess."
"I guess! You better get out of here! You just killed a guy!"
"I know," Eugene said.
"That was really bad, Eugene."
"I know! I lost my head! I was so jealous!" Tracey kept the briefcase in her lap.
"Who was he?" Eugene asked.
"He was a man who was in love with me, that's who, Eugene."
"Well, he doesn't love you anymore, besides I love you more than anyone," he said.
They drove in silence for a few minutes. Eugene stopped. He got out and ditched the shotgun in a trash compactor.
"Mexico – Mexico!" Eugene gasped, getting back in the cab.
Tracey smiled, thinking about the hundred thousand dollars she had in the briefcase.
She reached over and slid her hand along Eugene's thigh.
"I always did like you best, Eugene!" she whispered.
He smiled. "Really? That's what I wanna hear!"
"Wanna have me give you a nice hand-job?" she asked.
Her hand lifted to his crotch. She unzipped his fly and took his hard, thick cock out.
"You are so naughty, Eugene!" Tracey gasped.