"It doesn't look like your parents are home," Sam ventured as they pulled to a stop in front of her house.
"Oh, there's just me and Mom," Robin said, smiling bravely. She seemed to have calmed down a bit, but her tummy still fluttered whenever she thought of those degenerates with their Goddamned hands on her body. "My Dad died when I was eleven. I guess Mom's working. At the Pepsi plant, you know? She works about every other Saturday."
Clutching her purse, the buttons and tie of her top rescued, Robin hesitated a moment before getting out. "God, I hate to go in by myself," she sighed. "Would you… I mean, would you mind…"
He walked her to the door and waited while she found her key. Robin knew the house wasn't fancy, but it was clean and respectable, all the same, and she wasn't embarrassed to have him come in.
But once inside the door all her composure seemed to vanish. Her head grew dizzy and she swayed on her feet. Sam caught her before she fell and she leaned against his body, drawing renewed strength from his presence.
"You poor kid," he commiserated, and she could see the sadness in his eyes. She hoped he understood that it was only because it was those guys who had tried to carry her away. Someone nice, someone demy, mamas decent, she caught the fresh, manly smell of his aftershave, even the scent of his unscented deodorant, and she felt the strength pulsing in his arms.
"I'm weak as a kitten," Robin sighed. "My heats going a mile a minute. See," and with that she took one of his hands and delicately placed it on the ascending curve of one boob that he might feel her pulsing excitement through the layer of her shirt and the warm cushion of her skin.
She held his hand there, sighing languidly as her excited flutter began to die down, and his fingers molded around the curve of her tit, touching her firmly but not possessively. Robin's pulse rate slowed a bit, and then it started to speed up once more and she felt a different kind of fluttering inside her body.
Her eyes darted up to examine Sam's face. He was blushing unawares, it seemed, and he was breathing a bit heavier than normal. Robin's leg moved demurely and touched Sam's lower belly. He was getting a hard-on inside his pants! Curious, she removed her hand from his to see if he'd let her go. He didn't. His fingers clung to her curvy jug, remaining there now of their own volition. He seemed not to notice that he was holding her tit. She cuddled her head against his chest, relishing the way her temple grazed his chin. There was such a sexy man-smell to him, she decided. All man. He made her think of Dennis. How long would it be till they were lovers once again? Why did the hours have to crawl by so slowly?
A careful glance down Sam's belly revealed to Robin that his cock was still erecting. He had a big tool. It seemed to fill the front of his pants, which were fashionably tight and just right for showing off a big hard-on. No wonder Mrs. Willis always had such a happy smile, Robin told herself with an inward giggle.
Something flashed across his eyes. He seemed to realize that he was cupping her titty, that she was no longer forcing him to do it. He let go quickly and put his hand on her shoulder. Robin melted against him, rubbing him more closely, her other boob rubbing his chest. Sam tried to pull back his crotch, obviously to keep her from noticing the hard-on he'd just discovered growing.
He was a beautiful guy, she thought, dark haired, dark-eyed, built like a dream even if he was a little on the short side. But he didn't seem to be a bit short where it counted. Not at all. Robin pulled away from him, a thin, sad smile on her face, her cheeks dimpled ever so pathetically just like the little girl trying to keep from crying. "Gee," she said, "I'm still shook up. Would you mind sitting with me awhile? Mom probably won't be back till later, and I'd hate to be alone right now."
Sam nodded, though it was evident he'd rather say no. "Sure," he said, "I can stay a little while."
"Great," she said. "I'll find a couple of drinks for us." She went into the kitchen, noticing as she turned the corner that Sam was engaged in reshuffling his half-hard dick inside his pants.
He was sitting in a chair in the living room when she returned, his legs crossed and high so that another hard-on, if one might occur, wouldn't be so obvious. Robin gave him his cola, then sat down on the couch with her own.
Her posture didn't satisfy her at first, so she shifted herself two or three times, looking for just the right angle of repose. It was the jeans, she knew. They were so tight they dug into her legs and thighs and – good God! – her gash, but these days tight jeans were in, and the stares they drew for her were worth any discomfort.
At last she drew her legs up onto the seat, knees pointing skyward, heels pressed against her ass. Her arms locked around her shins and she rocked a little, stretching the tight fabric even tighter. Mmm, that felt good! The pants were very snug against her otherwise bare cunt right now, really rubbing some feeling into her horny young snatch. Maybe she could get herself off, or nearly off, right there, with Sam watching. And he wouldn't even know!
Or would he? She decided that it would be fun to see if he guessed what she was up to. Sam Willis was a nice guy, pretty straight, she was sure. Certainly not the kind who'd ever dream of asking a pretty young teenager if she was masturbating herself on the crotchpiece of her blue jeans. AU he could do would be to sit and maybe wonder. Robin began to rock a little more vigorously, her legs parted at the knees, just enough to grind that crotchstrip against her fuzzy nest of golden curls and pink cuntlips. Oooooh, that felt good!
She saw his eyes narrowing as he sipped his Pepsi and made a brave attempt at conversation. Robin answered him half-heartedly, most of her attention devoted to the sawing of the jeans across her aroused pussylips, and she knew that he was watching her, suspecting, perhaps, but not accusing.
Robin was ascending the staircase to heaven, a warm tingly arousal created by her denims' tightness. It didn't take her long to get really hot, for she'd been wet cunted all day from that same tight pressure on her box. Sometimes she closed her eyes fitfully as she rocked, getting off on the buildup, and now she wished Mr. Willis would go home and leave her alone. There was a candle in her dresser drawer, a very special candle. It was big in circumference and it was long, and she'd used a match on its side to produce a big hard lump of wax halfway down that felt like bliss eternal when it jabbed her clitty as she slid that taper in and out of her pussy like the slowest, sweetest fuck imaginable.
She yawned, hoping he'd get the message, and his mouth opened as if he meant to speak when there was suddenly a loud rrriiippp! Oh, Christ! She'd stretched and pressed one time too many, and her crotch seam had burst. Robin felt a breath of air stirring her beaver and she looked down, painfully aware that Sam Willis was looking down, too, at the lovely muff of curly gold peeking through her torn jeans.
"I think I've torn something," she blushed. Mr. Willis blushed, too, and he looked up hastily from her exposed cunt. But he'd had time to get a great eyeful of the pussy hair that poked out of her torn pants, and he knew as well as she did that she wore nothing beneath those jeans but her body. It was too late now to get modest, Robin decided, and she sat there looking back at him, making no effort to bring her legs down or slide them together.
Sam coughed in embarrassment and he folded his arms across his lap, but not before Robin saw that he had a hard-on again. "You'd better change into something else," he suggested, but neither of them moved. More threads gave way, now that the wall had been breached, and the entire rosy oval of her wet gash peeked through the rent, reproving Sam for his staring.
"Guess I had," Robin finally said. She still didn't move. Her eyes were fixed on him, as if she were waiting for him to do something, say something.
Sam lifted his arms, folding them behind his neck. He uncrossed his legs, resting his heels on the floor, and the jutting bulk of his stiff rod thrust up against his pants. Robin leaned back on the couch, her shoulders dropping, her cunt thrusting forward.
Sam got up from his chair and walked towards Robin with slow, painful steps. God, she thought, it must hurt to have a hard-on that big in such tight pants. "You look like you're ready to split your pants, too, Mr. Willis," she said huskily.
Without a word Sam unbuckled his belt, unfastened and unzipped his trousers, and let them fall to the floor. His shorts were stretched all out of shape by the pressure of his stiff dick and he removed them with a sigh of relief. Now he stood before her, wearing only his blue T-shirt, his cock proud and hard, its knob in the air, eight or nine inches of prick primed and ready to handle whatever might come up.
Robin put her feet on the floor and she leaned forward to touch his dick. She knew too much to play the shy virgin, and her hand teased up and down his cockshaft expertly.
"You shouldn't walk around with something like that sticking up in front of you, Mr. Willis," Robin said ingenuously. "You could hurt somebody with it. Shouldn't you take care of that?"
"I'd like to," he said through clenched teeth. "I'd really like to."
"Gee," she sighed, "can I watch while you do it?"
Sam caught fire. He grabbed the girl by her shoulders, squeezing till she knew they must be black and blue. His hands dropped onto her tits and she cooed in response. Her hand joined his and she popped buttons, untied the bow, and spread her top open so that he might sink his head to bite and kiss her big dark nipples. The points sprang up as his lips nuzzled them, and Sam sucked her dry nipples hungrily.
His finger dived into the ripped out crotch of her jeans to attack the mouth of her cunt. He pulled and twisted her golden beaver until Robin cried out in lovely pain. The lips of her pussy were spreading open, popping shut, and lubricating freely. His thumb gouged into them to brush at her clit, and a mindless pleasure coursed her body. And as he did, Robin fought to unsnap the waist button of her jeans, to drop the garments upon his exploring hand.
Sam jerked her pants to her knees, across her wiggling toes, and threw them to the floor. She saw him hesitate a minute, staring at her bare body, at his own throbbing hard-on, and then he went to his knees. He put his hands on her pubes and spilt her gash open, a meal fit for a king. Robin clamped her hands tight around the back of his skull and thrust her pussy upward into his mouth, making him slurp and lick and eat and suck her juicy, rosy-fleshed box.
The pointing knob of his massive hard-on hit her calf again and again. She seemed to have discovered a totally new erogenous zone, for the touch of his swinging cock was sending her into spasms of delight, and Robin forgot all about her diddling candle. She wanted Sam Willis and his nine-inch peter, and she wanted it NOW!
"Give me your cock," she prayed to the sucking head that dipped in and out of her furry crotch. "Please!"
Sam looked up, and she saw that he was sincere in his efforts to stop eating her gash. But his head swept in for one last suck, one last taste, again and again, and Robin creamed for him in delicious floods of pussy juice that wetted his greedy mouth.
She lay back on the couch, legs spread, hands flogging her tits and nipples, tongue licking her lips. Sam picked up her legs so that she stretched out full-length, with one leg tossed over the back of the sofa, the other dangling to the floor, her pussy moist and open. She thanked him with a sigh, for she hadn't the composure to do that necessary job of preparation herself.
Then he put one knee on the couch, between her widely spread legs, holding his prick in one hand as he made the proper alignments. She felt him put the tip of his cock upon her cuntlips and she groaned as she felt the massive clubby head slip partway inside her hole. But Robin's cunt was greasy with lust and Sam's cock, big as it was, had no trouble getting in. She hugged him tightly with her sheath like cunt but she made not the slightest resistance. "Oh, God!" she wailed, "your cock's so big! So fucking big! Give it all to me!"
His prick was appreciably bigger than Sean's, and bigger, too, than Dennis', but Robin knew she had a cunt that could take all the cock he had to give. He obliged her then, making the final thrust that brought their crotches together with a crashing thwack! And his balls were cradled warmly in the moist crack of her ass. As he shoved his rod home, Robin brought down the leg he'd raised out of the way, locking it around his butt. Her heel tapped a fandango on his slim hips and she groaned to feel Sam pulling his dong out of her snatch, only the tip still wedged in her cunt mouth.
His knob quivered inside her gash, most of his nine inches completely withdrawn from her hole, Robin's foot hammering on his ass, and then she felt him thrust!
Straight up her constricted channel pounded his cock, nine inches of glory pummeling its way into her pussy. Robin screamed at the beautiful pain she was feeling throughout her aching body, and he let her have his cock again, harder than before. His sperm-filled balls banged together as he fucked in and out, swifter, swifter, and she heard him moan with the joy of it all.
"Oh, Christ," Robin whispered frantically, her eyes nearly all white as the pupils rolled back in her head. Drool flowed from her lips, choking the words she wanted to say to him then.
"This is all I've got to give," Sam grunted, trying to penetrate her twat with every inch of his prick, and she thrust back against him, knowing only that she wanted him to fuck her, fuck her, fuck her…
She begged him again and again to do just that, the vulgar words rolling easily from her vividly red lips, and she knew that the words were not vulgar, that they were only an attempt to imitate the sound of what he was doing in her snatch. His prick made just that noise, she realized, swishing between her grasping cunny flanges. "Ffuuuccckkk…"
She felt him hump faster and faster, his cock drilling her pulsing snatch like a jackhammer, and then he sighed and closed his eyes and his cock vomited out its load of cum, all nine inches of prick throbbing inside her gushing cunt. And how many separate bunts of his jizz? She counted them three, four, five, six, seven – more? More?
Each time his pecker shuddered within her twat tunnel a fresh pint of cream bathed her interior. She couldn't move, for be pinned her with his fuck-stick. She didn't want to move. Eight, nine, the cum from his orgasm flowed and rolled in the red-hot walls of her cunt and she screamed aloud as her insides caught fire and scorched her alive where she lay last in passionate agony.
Sam's prick fought hard to keep stiff, even though it had already dumped a tremendous load in the young girl's vacuumy cunt and should have been overdue for a rest. But slowly, she felt his cock soften inside her flooded cunt. His tense hard-on melted, his thick shaft shriveled, and Sam's wiggly dick began to slide back down her cum-drenched cunt.
Limply it popped from the lips of her tight young snatch and lay wetly on her thigh joint. She wondered if he realized that, like a character in a sex movie or a dirty joke, he'd just fucked the babysitter.
But, she had to admit, she could no longer remember exactly how horrible it had been to writhe in the clutches of the Schroeders and their buddy Tim. Sam had fucked her cares away, with a vengeance.
Robin put her hands on his face, lifting herself so she could plant kiss after sloppy kiss on his mouth and cheeks. As her mouth nuzzled his face, she felt him grow tight and tense, and then he was picking himself up, getting to his feet, bending over to retrieve his shorts. He said something which Robin didn't catch.
"Huh?" she asked, come glow radiating from her luscious green eyes. She felt like the cat that had gotten the cream. All of it.
"I said, I'm very sorry, Robin. I don't know what got into me."
She smirked prettily. "I know what got into me."
"I meant," he said, "I don't know how this happened. One minute I was sitting there."
"Looking at my pussy, where my jeans were torn," she reminded him. He went deep red all over.
"Really," she said. "It's okay. You don't have anything to apologize for. I mean, I had a good time. Didn't you?"
Couldn't he understand? They'd only fucked. It wasn't as if she were asking him to leave his wife for her.
Robin reached out before Sam could pull up his shorts, and her fingers trapped his wet dick. She leaned out from the couch and kissed its cummy flesh a hundred times, smacking her lips upon his rod from balls to knob. Finally she let go, allowing him to put on his shorts. And, since he was dressing, Robin decided she might as well do the same. With the slinky movements of a cat she got off the couch and tugged her clothes into place once again.
"I'd better be going," Sam was saying. "Laurel will be wondering where I am."
"Yeah," Robin agreed. "She probably will."
He stopped. "Robin, I think that maybe, if Laurel should ever call you for another babysitting job, you might be better off to make some kind of excuse."
"Huh?" she asked in disbelief. "What for?"
"Well," and he blushed furiously, "because of what's just happened, for one thing. It could lead to something neither of us really wants. Or at least I hope neither of us wants. Something that might hurt Laurel and the kids. Not physically, but emotionally."
She nodded. "You mean, like me getting sexed up and hung up. On you?" He signaled his agreement. She laughed. "Mr. Willis! I mean, all we did was screw. I liked it, sure, but I'm not in love with you or anything. Those rotten guys made me nervous, and I, was kinda horny, too, and balling you was a lot better than playing with myself. But I didn't mean anything special."
"Nothing special?" he repeated, lifting his voice to make a question mark at the end.
"Gosh," she added, "you'd better let me wipe my lipstick off your face. You've got big red kiss-marks all over!"
She found a tissue and wiped away the red stains she'd left on his cheeks and lips. "That's better. Now Mrs. Willis won't shoot you at first sight."
Sam nodded and he left without another word. Robin watched him go. That whole family was freaky, she told herself. A loose thread in her ripped-out crotch tickled her pussy and she decided she'd better go change before her mom returned from work and maybe take a nap, too. It was still early, but thanks to those Willis kids, she hadn't slept much last night. And she wouldn't be able to call Dennis before seven-thirty or so, anyway. Why not? She made sure the front door was locked and then went to bed.
Robin cooked supper for herself and her mother, and she was cleaning up the dishes when she heard the phone ring out in the hall. Dennis? she wondered, drying her hands quickly just in case.
"Phone, dear," said her mother. "It's Bonnie."
"Oh," Robin said. Bonnie was her best friend but she'd been hoping it might be Dennis. She picked up the phone in the hall and cradled it between her ear and shoulder. "Hi, Bon," she said.
"Hi, Robbie. Doin' anything tonight? My relatives are all gone and we can use the van."
"I don't know," Robin demurred. "I want to make a phone call first. Can I call you back?"
They made their good-byes and Robin dialed long-distance to get Dennis' dorm room at Ohio State. If everything went right, they would be reconciled within a matter of minutes. She heard the first ring, the second, the third. "The Den of Iniquity," said a male voice.
"Smith speaking." It was Dennis' roomie. "Is Dennis Coffey there?"
"Why do all the chicks want Dennis? I'm available, you know. Or does anybody care? No, he's not in. I guess he has a date or something. But if I can be of any assistance."
She hung up before he'd finished his invitation.
So, Dennis didn't care. He already had another girl. Couldn't he have guessed she'd be back? Why couldn't he have waited? Robin dialed Bonnie's number. "When you coming by?" she asked.