Any Chores I Can Do?

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It was a Saturday afternoon, just after lunch, and I was sitting back relaxing when Wendy, the young lass from next door came knocking on the door.

It’s odd, but I’d always considered Wendy to be the kid next door. I was always friendly to her and spoke to her as though she was an adult but I’d never really moved from seeing her as the little girl, riding her bike, to the young woman she now was.

So it came as a bit of a shock when I answered her knock and found her standing there in tight shorts and a tight top and realised that not only was she no longer a child but she was hot. Casting my mind back I vaguely recalled her eighteenth birthday party and, hells bells, that was almost a year ago. Definitely not a child any longer.

“Hi, Mr Dee,” she sang as she came waltzing in. “I was wondering if you had any jobs around the place that I could do to earn some extra money. I’ve got a date tonight and I’m short.”

“Sorry, Wendy,” I told her. “I don’t really have anything I need doing right now.”

A little history here. Wendy’s father was a tight-fisted miser and controlled the family finances absolutely. If Wendy wanted pocket money when she was growing up she had to earn it, and earn it outside of the family home. Any chores she did for the family were just considered normal and she didn’t get a brass razoo for them. I’d been a favourite target of hers for years when she required some pocket money for something special. And I will admit she always did a good job of whatever chores I gave her, with no complaining. Since she had started part-time work she had a steady income and no longer needed to do my chores and hadn’t been over for a while.

“But you must have something you need done,” Wendy wailed. “I have a date tonight and I need another fifty. Isn’t there something I can do? I’m willing to do anything.”

Rash words, I though, trying not to laugh. I couldn’t help myself, though. My eyes deliberately ran over her nubile young figure and I smiled.

“I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it,” Wendy wailed, frantically waving her hands to scrub out what she’d said. “You’re just being mean. Eww. You’re old enough to be my father.”

True. I was only in my early thirties so I’d have had to have started young, but it would have been possible. Now I was laughing at her.

“I’m not that old and it just means I’m experienced and could teach you things,” I pointed out. “And one must remember, I’m not your father, so it’s legal.”

“You may not be my father but you’re still old,” grumbled Wendy. “You know I didn’t mean anything like that. Stop teasing me.”

“But I like teasing you,” I told her, “and why should you rule out something like that. I’m assuming you’re not a virgin, and it could be fun.”

Wendy gave me a speaking look and changed the subject.

“Can’t you think of any housework or gardening that I might be able to do?” she asked again. “I really want to have the extra money available when we go out tonight.”

I’d turned on the kettle when Wendy had come in and it was now boiling. I made us both some coffee and considered my options while we drank it. While we drank and I considered, Wendy rhapsodized about her new boyfriend. Not actually a boyfriend yet, but she had hopes.

As far as I was concerned, if she had to scrounge up the money to pay their way he was a loser, right from the word go. Not that I told her this, of course. Criticism would just make him seem more attractive. I did drop a hint that he should be paying but it was very mildly expressed. Just a slight show of surprise.

Eventually I brought the discussion back to the subject I wanted.

“Getting back to the subject of scraping together the money you want, keeping in mind your refusal to allow me to broaden your experience by sleeping with me,” I said with a bland smile, “let’s see what we can come up with that will raise the money while keeping your virtue relatively intact.”

It’s amazing how suspicious young women can be. I consider it a fault and blame society.

“What do you mean, relatively intact?” asked Wendy.

“Well, as far as I can see you have bloomed into a very lovely young lady. The trouble is, I can’t see enough. Why not take your top off and show me how nicely you’ve matured?”

“And you’d take that as a license to grope.”

“For shame, Wendy. You wrong me. Eyes only, Cami Halısı I assure you.”

Wendy chewed on her lip, looking suspicious, but horribly tempted, I could tell. Most women don’t mind showing of their breasts. It’s amazing the number of times a man can be accidentally flashed.

Pride in her figure, familiarity with me and the thought of money for her date won. Wendy stood up and took off her top. I’d guessed correctly. No bra. Not that she needed one. Her breasts were so pale they almost seemed to glow white, and I was quite surprised to note that her nipples were almost cherry red. Suspiciously red, now that I thought of it.

I was acting before I even knew I was going to. I wet a finger and brushed it lightly across one nipple.

“Don’t worry,” I told her. “I’m not really touching. Just checking something.”

Maybe I was only testing a theory but Wendy’s nipple didn’t care. It promptly puckered, asking for another touch. Regretfully, I passed up the chance and held my finger up, showing a red smear on the tip of it.

“Rouge?” I asked.

“They’re too pale. I wanted them to be a little more prominent,” said Wendy, blushing.

“You’re not thinking it through,” I softly chided her. “If you wanted them more prominent it’s only because you expect the boyfriend to see them later. If he touches them and smears them, how will you feel? Go and wipe them clean.”

Still blushing, Wendy beat a retreat to the bathroom, returning shortly afterwards with nipples that were a very pale pink. Pale pink and aroused, the pair of them. I supposed scrubbing them does that.

I made a few encouraging and flattering remarks about her breasts, with Wendy’s face changing from guiltily embarrassed to a more pleased embarrassed. She reached for her top but I put a hand on it.

“Now these,” I said quietly, giving her shorts a little tug.

Her face might have been red before but now it really flamed.

“Wh-what? Naked?” she asked in horror. “But I’ve never been naked in front of a man.”

“You mean you are a virgin?” I asked, startled.

Wrong guess, it seemed.

“No,” Wendy said, indignation plain in her face. “It’s just that. . .”

Her voice trailed off in embarrassment. I nodded in understanding.

“I see. So this will be a first,” I said, letting her see that I assumed that she would go ahead with my request.

The lip chewing started again, then she swallowed and slowly pushed her shorts down. She was careful to leave her panties on, if you could call a miniscule thong a pair of panties, but I just sat there waiting expectantly. She flicked a glance at me, saw I was expecting her panties to go and lowered them, albeit very slowly.

Standing back up she clasped her hands in front of her mound, not looking at me. I just laughed very quietly, took her wrists and moved her hands away. I made some very approving noises, while making sure that I didn’t succumb to temptation and grabbed.

Moving gently, I drew Wendy down to sit on my lap. She was acutely conscious of the fact that she was naked, and also overbearingly excited. Just a single look at her showed the state she was in. Nipples aroused, face flushed, breathing slower and deeper and, when she sat her legs naturally splayed slightly apart, letting me see her fully.

By this time I had a mammoth erection, although I don’t think Wendy was aware of it yet. Also, my hands were itching to take hold of that body. I could almost taste her breasts just sitting there. My restraint was remarkable. I only hoped my eventual reward would pay for it.

My hands were actually touching Wendy, but in a non-threatening way, just holding her balanced on one knee. They were still near enough to her more personal parts for Wendy to be very much aware of them and what they would touch if they started to stray.

“I assume that you have handled a man’s erection,” I said quietly, and Wendy nodded jerkily, still not looking at me.

“Have you ever really examined one, instead of just doing what whoever you were with wanted?”

Finally she looked at me.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean that most boys just want the girl to touch them and don’t really care about what she wants. Have you ever really examined a man’s erection.”

“No,” she whispered.

“Then why don’t you? Don’t worry, I’ll keep my Cami Halıları word and not go groping you. Why don’t you just familiarise yourself with someone from the opposite sex. You never know when it might come in handy.”

She was looking extremely doubtful as I undid my trousers and let my friend join the fun. I don’t blame her. She probably suspected I’d try to use it on her. Such a woeful lack of faith in this younger generation.

Wendy tentatively poked my cock with a forefinger.

“Do you want me to give you a handjob,” she asked in a small voice.

“Not required,” I said. “I’m just letting you get come familiarisation with a man.”

With that she seemed to relax a little and her hand brushed over the head. I gritted my teeth and showed no reaction. (Except to swell a little more, possibly.) When I didn’t say or do anything, just letting her go her own sweet way, Wendy grew more adventurous.

Her hands danced over my cock, feeling it, squeezing it to test how hard it was, stroking it to feel the roughness, just plain holding it to feel the heat. And I smiled and smiled and screamed inside like a gibbering monkey.

As well as satisfying her curiosity, Wendy was building up a nice arousal within herself. She had already been aroused by sitting on a man’s knee while naked. Now playing with the man’s equipment was causing lust to rise. I could almost feel the heat coming from her.

Wendy started absentmindedly rubbing herself while she played. That was enough of a hint for me to progress things a little more.

“You may find yourself a little more comfortable if you sit round a bit,” I told her, easing her around until she was straddling me, facing me, my erection rearing up just a few scant inches in front of her slit. A slit that was flushed, flowering and a trifle damp, I’d noticed.

Wendy eased herself a bit further forward until her pussy was rubbing against my erection. And I do mean rubbing. She was pushing herself up and down slightly, enjoying the feel of my erection scraping against her sensitive lips.

I was almost screaming, “Damn it, take me now,” when she did.

She gave a little gulping sound, lifted herself up, lined up my cock and slowly started settling down onto it. Geez, what a relief. I didn’t do anything to scare her off. I just relaxed, as much as anyone can relax with a willing woman descending on their cock, and let her settle onto me.

Wendy wasn’t bashful about it. Having decided to go ahead she pushed herself firmly down onto me, and I slid up her passage with the greatest of ease. When she settled she gave a little wriggle of contentment, happy to have me. Then it registered on her what she’d just done.

She gave this horrified little gasp and looked at me. After all my promises not to molest her she’d turned around and molested me. Her blushing was certainly working overtime today.

“You started it. You may as well continue,” I murmured.

Still watching me she lifted up and slowly sank back down onto me. With a little help from me pushing up to meet her. Satisfied that I wasn’t angry and would do my part, Wendy settled in to a happy little bounce, more playing with my cock than a serious workout. That was alright by me. I could handle happy.

As she’d initiated the contact I felt I was now free to grope her. My hands came up and cupped her breasts, squeezing them and rolling her nipples under my thumbs. Leaning forward slightly I gently bit into one breast.

With a gasp, Wendy started bouncing harder. I was pushing up harder as well, and we were coming together quite forcefully. I switched my attention to her other breast, catching her nipple in my teeth and rasping them across it.

Wendy was giving little squeals now, gasping and bouncing, her feeling having her tightly in their grip and running away with her. We came together harder and faster, Wendy running wildly towards her climax, everything forgotten in the anticipation of what was coming.

She came all right, like a steam train, shrieking and bucking on top of me, clamping me firmly to her while I was quite happy to release myself into her. After some rather violent action she just sagged forward, leaning against me, breathing deeply. I waited.

After a while she stirred and started paying attention again. She looked up at me, blushed and made as though she was going to disengage and get the hell out of there. I had other ideas.

“Not bad for starters,” I told her. “Now it’s my turn.”

She blinked and gave her head a little shake.

“Wh-what do you mean?” she asked. “You just did it. You can’t do it again.”

“Really?” I asked. “Where’s that written down?”

“But you can’t,” she protested. “Men can only do it once.”

“Obviously, you know the wrong sort of men,” I told her.

With that I stood up, carrying her with me. She didn’t have much choice, seeing we were still engaged, as it were. I walked off down the hall, carrying her. And if I put a bounce in my step as I walked, jolting her with every step, who could blame me. After all, the woman had just ravished me.

Reaching my bedroom I dropped her on the bed, falling down on top of her and crushing her against the bed, not losing that vital contact at any stage. Rearing up and leaning over her I smiled down at her somewhat stunned face.

“Time for a change of position”.

I lifted her leg and moved it up and across her body, rolling her over, but moving with her so that I remained between her thighs. Lifting her bottom higher I watched as she hastily scrabbled with her legs to get into a semi-kneeling position. My arms slid around her until I had hold of her breasts, and then I was ready.

This time I was dictating the terms and I came in hot and hard, letting Wendy know in no uncertain terms that I was the master. I was, unfortunately, labouring under a couple of handicaps. While my erection came easily enough, it would take me a few minutes to reload and fire off another charge. Conversely, Wendy had just had a climax, which meant that she was already primed and set to go a second time without too much effort. So I had to speed up my recovery while slowing down her fun. Ah, the joys of lust.

I set to work to torment Wendy. I ploughed into her, full and fast, pushing her rapidly towards her second climax. As soon as she started gasping and twitching, ready to explode, I slowed down, letting her come down off her high, unfulfilled. As soon as she was nicely deflated I started the build-up again.

After doing this several times, Wendy found her voice. It was shameful, the things she called me. Fancy being that rude, while at the same time asking me to complete my fucking and stop stuffing around. I didn’t totally ignore her request. I just changed my tactics slightly.

I banged Wendy, moving harder and faster, bringing her back up to the edge of her climax. Wendy was squealing and gasping, expecting me to continue and bring her the relief she craved.

I continued, all right. I continued to hold her there at that pitch, neither pushing her over the edge to a climax nor letting her back down so that I could start again. I thrust into her, keeping her nerves in a state of screaming suspense, giving my balls time to get their act together and build up a decent charge.

Wendy was wailing and pleading, desperate for relief, not knowing what to do. I finally crossed my fingers and slammed in hard and fast.

She shrieked and exploded, her pussy clamping onto me and determinedly milking me, and thank god I had something to deliver. By the time Wendy settled down I was hollow, completely drained. It would take me weeks to recharge, the way I felt.

This time it took a while for us both to get our act together. I recovered first and when Wendy finally came to it was to find me holding her and gently rubbing her back.

Before she could say anything, I got in first.

“I guess I was too eager. I’m sure I can make things last longer than that. Perhaps next time. Why don’t you come around after your date tonight and we can try again.”

Wendy bounced to her feet real fast. She wanted to be mad at me but couldn’t help remembering that she was the one who jumped me first. All the same, she just knew the whole thing was my fault and let me know it. And she wouldn’t be around after her date. She didn’t know how long it would go for. Possibly all night, thank you very much.

Maybe it would and maybe it wouldn’t. I had a suspicion that her potential boyfriend was going to strike out if he tried to get Wendy to bed tonight. A case of too soon after her afternoon’s experience.

I watched Wendy leave, her date money in her purse. Only a loan, she insisted, when I let her have it. Naturally, I agreed.

I resolved to stay up late and see what time she got home. You never knew what might happen. Maybe she would be receptive to a post-date visit.

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