Lilac: Hot, 18, Horny, Relentless!

I glanced at my watch, it was 2:45. Flight had been delayed. I knew she wasn't here for the dog, she would have come at lunchtime. Or, maybe she was way behind too. But I didn't confront her, I wanted to act like it was strictly professional, even though I'd seen her topless, and wanted to fuck her, and knew she was coming onto me. "Well, Tigger's in the kitchen," I indicated, where he would always be, "help yourself, it's why we hired you." I tried to keep my voice calm, almost to the point of sounding bored. Maybe passive disinterest would scare her off, it was the least confrontational way.

"Yup!" The girl put my house keys on the table near me, and our eyes caught for a second. She was nervous, almost biting her lip. I guess I wasn't being receptive to her obvious advances, and she wasn't sure how to get through my bravado. The moment passed, though, she slipped away, though, headed into the kitchen. I heard her call out sweetly to our dog, and heard his barks of excitement. I forced myself not to look, reading through the mail, seeing nothing of particular interest. Still, I stood there, hearing the back door open, hearing the girl and my dog go outside.

I was nervous, there was no doubt about it. This hot little bitch was in my house, wearing almost nothing, she'd been coming onto me and teasing me, then presented me with a topless photo of herself. Man, I could bang her so easily, I knew. But -- I also knew that was not proper. I was married, I'd made promises, I can't do it. She was only 18! How stupid would this be?

Fidgeting, I started looking for things to do. I kept thumbing through the mail, until I realized I'd seen the same envelopes two or three times. They weren't processing in my head. Tossing those down, I asked myself, what could I do to pass the time until she left. I didn't want to just sit there. I could make food, but I wasn't hungry. Instead, the most obvious thing was sitting in front of me, my luggage. Yes, I had to unpack. No, if I was trying to avoid a scenario where I might set myself up to be seduced, this wasn't the brightest idea.

I hauled my two pieces of luggage up the steps, quickly heading into my bedroom. It was like a retreat from the front; she was downstairs, I was up here, we were separated now. I tossed the two boxy bags onto the large King-size bed, but first realized the room was dim. My wife had closed the blinds. Now, our bedroom is in the back corner of the house, with eight separate windows on the two adjoining walls to provide ample light and a great view of the very green wild overgrowth behind our house -- something of an accidental forest, I suppose -- so opening the windows one by one is a process.

My back was to the door, I was about halfway through opening the windows when I heard a soft, high-pitched female voice behind me. "Oh, here you are," Lilac giggled, strolling into my bedroom. My bedroom! "Whatcha doin' -- are you unpacking? Need any help?"

My spine crawled with tingling, I was caught, and now in my bedroom. Part of me, of course, was loving this. My cock was already standing up in my pants. Had I lured here up here, telling myself I was trying to get away? Of course. But no, no way. Fuck, I was hating myself -- was I going to fuck her or send her home? Make your fucking mind up, you asshole! This was pissing me off!

I finished opening the eight windows, letting in tons of light of the bright summer afternoon, before I turned to look at her across the room. She was so petite, so young, the 18 year old blonde goddess, standing in the middle of my bedroom. "Uhh, no, I'm good," I forced myself to say, opting not to tell her to strip and get on the bed. She could tell, however, that I was observing her in a sexual way. The white bikini top covering her little boobs, and the tight white wrap around her petite hips, beckoned my attention, contrasting to her bronze tanned skin. I forced my eyes to look off her body and to her hazel eyes. "You, uhhh, no, you don't have to." Wait, that's the best I can do, to tell her she has to quit teasing me?

Lilac looked past me, at the windows behind me. "Wow, look at that!" Truly caught by the view, the teenager stepped around my bed and strolled up to a window pane next to me, looking directly into our back yard. Truly, we have a spectacular view. The land behind our house slopped downward into a valley, stretching back about 300 yards and probably dropping 40 or 50 yards over that span. The valley then slopped upwards on the other side, not quite as high, so you could see past the ridge behind us and across towards the city in the great distance. Most of the land was owned by the power company, I'd heard, and they didn't care about it -- it was virtually all trees and unkempt bushes. Pure wildlife. In the winter, it was barren and almost spooky; but now, in July, it was full green foliage. Beautiful, luscious, inviting. Not unlike Lilac herself, but in a very different way.

As she stood next to me, admiring the view out our back window, my eyes turned to admire the view of her body. Gravitating my gaze to her little ass, I saw how her wrap was tight around her buttocks, so as she clenched them, I could almost see the pocket marks of the dimples on the sides of her butt cheeks. I could also detect her feminine aroma -- a concoction of female sweat, some sticky-sweet perfume, and even maybe the fishy odor of a vagina. Looking at her chest from the side, I saw her nipples were hard, forming little distinct bumps on her teen titties in her white bikini top.

The girl looked at me, seeing me look at her, and she winked. "This is great," she said of the view again, but she was just passing time. We had another moment, like the one downstairs, just looking at each other, neither of us addressing the 800 pound gorilla in the room. I had a dry mouth, I wanted to tell her I wanted to kiss her and fuck her; but I knew I needed to say she had to get home, I had to go to work to deal with my crisis there, and I was a married man who shouldn't have sex with an 18 year old blonde.

The teenager seemed to have more sense of herself than I did. She turned her back to me, again showing me that fine young ass and bronzed tan backside, as she stepped to my bed and started unzipping a suitcase. "So, let's unpack you, see what you brought home for me," she laughed with a playful, schoolgirl's giggle from her younger days.

I should have felt my privacy being invaded, but instead, I was feeling enamored that this young hottie was making excuses to spend time around me. She was seducing my machismo, the part of me that wants to feel like a virile man. Just her mere presence in my bedroom was intoxicating; I was throbbing hard, gazing at her small body, smelling her aromas, seeing her about to go through my underwear.

"Hey -- my underwear!" I exhaled a shriek, snapping to attention.

As I jumped to Lilac's side, the girl was already removing one of my folded black briefs, holding it up with pinched fingers. "Hmm, black -- very sexy!" I saw her glance down to my crotch -- she did so very obviously, like she wanted me to see her do it -- then she compared a mental image to the underwear. "I dunno, these must be SO tight on you, you sure these are yours?"

Then she looked at me again, biting her lower lip. Either she was saying I was fat, or, she was questioning if the briefs could hold the size of my package. What a hot little tramp she was.

Putting on a fake scowl if disdain, I reached out to snatch the black underwear away from her. She didn't mind, not resisting, taking out another two pair, holding each one in a separate hand. Her voice the throaty, sultry; she looked at me with a hard stare into my eyes. "So this is what you like -- are you wearing one like this right now?"

She was inviting me to take my pants off, I was sure of it.

The married man in me wasn't ready to give up my moral high ground. It was like I was being forced to prove myself, show what I was made of. I had to find the girl's "off" button. Her directness was entertaining, and I let out a little laugh, before coughing and laying down the party line. "You know, you're really not supposed to ask that."

Lilac shrugged, putting my underwear back in the luggage. "Oh, you can tell me, I'm 18."

"Yes," nervously I retorted, "but I'm married." Please, please get the hint, I was whispering to myself, I didn't want to say to her what she should already know. I wanted to make this easy on myself.

I heard her growl, almost a purr of a cat on the hunt, as her young hazel eyes scanned my crotch and chest before returning to my face. "Mmm, yes I know you're married, it's one of the things I like about you."

Tell her to go away, tell her to go away, I commanded myself. Not quite the words that came out of my mouth. "Is it?"

"Mmm hmm," she snickered, her eyes dropping to my crotch again. I was hard, but I don't think I had a visible bulge; I wasn't going to look and fuel this. She cocked her body, sticking a hip out, her hand on it to bend her arm akimbo. "So, you didn't say if you liked my bikini," toyed the girl with me, adding fuel to the fire, "I'm going to the pool to impress somebody -- think it'll work?" With that, I watched her hand on her hip unsnap a button, and she pulled off her white wrap, revealing the white bikini bottom. She pivoted to put the skirt on my bed -- on a pillow, actually -- which turned her ass in my direction. The bikini bottom covered only half her ass; I found myself gaping at soft, creamy-white triangles of exposed flesh on her small butt cheeks.

I must have moaned, my intention to kick her out of my house was not working, I was adoring the sight of her sexy teenage body. She knew it too, looking at me gawking at her. "But, I don't have to go to the pool, if you don't want me to."

Wake up, wake up, she's starting to strip for me. "Uhhh -- no, that's okay -- I have to go to the office, we have a -- have a crisis, it's why I left my wife -- my wife--" Shit, I was thinking about her, we were in the same room where I slept with my wife, this girl was practically naked! I will admit it, I was scared, my response to this wasn't what I had hoped it would be. I wanted to fuck this hot chick, yes I did; but it was so wrong on so many levels, I had to prove myself I was a real man and stand up for my principles.

The blonde shrugged, and answered my comment by putting one of the luggage bags on the floor. In the space she just cleared off, she hopped onto my bed, sitting on her butt, her hands behind her torso to arch her back and push her titties in her white bikini top towards me. "Oh, you sure you have to go into the office now? Can't you relax just a LITTLE, you had a long trip, right?" She could see my eyes were on her tits in her bikini, mentally removing the white triangles of thin fabric.

Say no, say no. "Umm -- no, honey -- really, I have to get into the office." Good boy, score one for me. Now, tell her to leave.

Lilac wasn't leaving, she was grinning at the reaction of the pervy, middle-aged married man, seeing her in the bikini on my bed. "Well," she offered with a soft, devilish snicker, teasing me mercilessly, "maybe this will convince you to stay?"

I saw her hands move to her back, she sat upright, and a second later, she was pulling off her bikini top -- exposing her glorious, sexy little 18 year old breasts. They were creamy white, a triangular shape of her tan lines against the caramel of the rest of her skin surrounding them. Hard, stiff nipples, light brown, with quarter-sized areolae. They had a soft, round shape, a definite curvature to the bottom of them, firm and perky; but small, they easily would entirely fit in my mouth, each one.

Staring at her nude tits, I balked. "Uhhh -- ohhh, Lilac -- uhhh!" I wasn't thinking about being good; I was in lust for those teen tits, and I didn't want them to go away.

The bitch knew her plan was working, for the moment. "Or, this will convince you?"

I couldn't believe how aggressive she was. She leaned back, both her hands moving to her hips; and a second later, she was slipping her bikini bottom off. She tossed it to her side, and laid back. She spread her creamy tanned tights. I was now gazing at her cunt.

Her cunt!

It was shaved bald, entirely hairless. Two pink, parallel pussylips, glistening. Her little clitty was barely poking through the hood of flesh above it. Below, she had a clean, puckered brown asshole, equally tight. I could see her firm, untanned butt cheeks from the inside, as she pried her legs open. "Don't you want to stay, Mike?"

My dick was leaking precum in my underwear, my eyes already fucking her. But I was trying to be a man about this. "Baby -- I'm married." There, I was proud to say it, even though my eyes were gazing at her naked body.

"I don't care," she whined, sounding anxious now. She had one hand on her pussy, rubbing her wet little clitty, while her other hand cupped one of her breasts and stroked her stiff nipple. Her hazel eyes peered at me lustfully, her voice trembled with a young woman's unsatisfied hunger. "I don't care, you're hot, and I'm sooo horny. I like that you're married, I bet you don't get pussy like mine -- young and tight -- cum on, cum feel it." Her fingertip was orbiting her clitoris, rubbing it faster, she was so turned on watching me watch her masturbate.

Trust me, I wanted to fuck her, but the conflict was being won by Reason. With a sigh, almost a sad one, I dropped my final word on the subject. "I can't, really -- I really, really, really can't." I averted my eyes; I looked away, staring at nothing, more hiding my shame and emotion than trying not to look at her gorgeous, petite nude body.

I could still hear her, though. "Please -- pleeeeeease, I'm soooo wet . . . pleeeease . . . just this once . . . pleeeease fuck me!"

Shit, she said it; and yes, fuck yes, I wanted to fuck her.

So, I turned my back on her. I had to do this, it was the Right thing. "I can't!" I yelled, almost mad. "You need to get dressed."

The overly horny, naive 18 year old was almost sobbing. "What? No -- please -- just this once!"

I sighed again. I felt better about myself, I'd controlled the beast, put the monster back in its cage. Now I could turn to face her again, seeing her tits and pussy, and she looked like a young female unfit for a mature man like me. "I really appreciate your attention, and you really make me feel good about myself. And of course I would love to fuck you, you are so hot -- really, really, so hot, you have no idea -- but, sweetie, I just can't -- I can't -- I'm married, I have to go to the office until late tonight -- I can't." My eyesight drilled into her eyes, into her brain. "I can't, okay?"

She sat up, pouting, looking away for a second, then at me. She saw I was serious. "Um -- okay." Her voice was saddened, but not angry. She was taking a chance, she knew it was over the line. She couldn't blame me, right? "Okay, I understand."

Brutal honesty is not always the best thing, when a nude girl is on your bed. "I wish I could, really -- but I can't."

She reclaimed her bikini thong. "No, I get it."

After I left the room for her to get dressed, then didn't even see her leave the house because I was hiding in plain sight in the kitchen, I thought I'd ended it. The opportunity had passed, right, and I survived with my marriage and ego intact.

So why did I feel like shit?

* * * * *

Needless to say, I couldn't work that afternoon. Oh, I was in the office until the evening, but my mind wasn't on the business crisis. I didn't want to see word comparison charts and revenue profile projection software diagrams, I didn't want to argue about how to word an introductory presentation, I certainly didn't want to lay blame on how two software projects were intermingled in violation of company policy. No, I wanted to sit and think about the gorgeous blonde girl who wanted me to fuck her, and who I threw out of my house. I didn't even say good-bye. What an asshole I am.

But, besides being mad, I was horny. I surfed some porn websites, rubbing my penis through my pants. Videos of slender, tanned blonde chicks were really turning me on. Humm, wonder why. Seeing pictures and movies of hard cocks pushing open their tight little pussies, watching them scream and ache while being fucked deep . . . I could have had that, I told myself. So was I a "man" to stand up for my marriage, and toss her out? Or would a "man" have said, fuck it, this hot little whore needed some grown-up dick, and I was going to give the 18 year old what she wanted? What's a "man's man" reaction to that situation?

I also felt bad, kicking her out without a further word. I was hiding from her and my emotions, waiting for her to leave the house. I should text her or something, I thought. Say I'm sorry.

So I did. Around 7 pm, I had just eaten some bad Chinese food, I grabbed my cellphone. First I exchanged texts with my wife, making sure she was alright; and she was, of course. Then, staring at my cellphone in my hand, I told myself I was taking the upper road. I wrote Lilac a short text, which seemed to say it all: "I'm sorry, ur really great, its my fault." I'm not sure it was, but, I didn't mind taking all the blame. Hell, I'm married, I've been taking all the blame regardless of justice for 20 years.

I wasn't sure she'd respond; she was probably really pissed at me. But, 18 year old affections are funny things; one moment they run hot, another cold. Such were the raging hormones as she dealt with her first days of adulthood. Her text came back about five minutes later, actually surprising me. "No its not its mine," she wrote of the fault-apportionment debate, "Im 18 and cant stand it."

That was an odd comment, and I had to admit, it made me feel old. What was "it"? Was this something the teens knew she meant? I had no clue. So, of course, I bit. "Cant stand what?" I asked in my next text, writing so quickly that she'd know I was paying rapt attention.

Lilac's response took only a minute, and seemed to tell me her life story in less than 140 characters. "Wanting 2b fukd by sum1 exprcd n not an immatur prick even if he lks gud." ["Wanting to be fucked by someone experienced, and not an immature prick even if the immature prick looks good."]

I was flattered that I had something she couldn't get from the teen and college boys she obviously knew -- they were like flies on the carcass around her, at the pool, as I observed a month earlier -- but we all have our roles to play, and I had told myself, this wasn't mine. "Ur so hot," I wrote back, maybe sounding fatherly, "u will find sum1 im sure." I could just see her patrolling malls and stores, hunting for adult men, looking for the guy who would stick his married cock in her and give her what she wanted. I felt really, really bad that the guy wasn't me.

"Yup I hope," she wrote, "and SOON."

Not sure if this was helping or hurting my feelings. I was glad she wasn't mad at me; but I was feeling worse that I didn't have the balls to fuck her myself. I wasn't feeling like a man. "I have to get back to work, sorry," I texted, deciding it was time to move on. It would allow me to avoid my feelings.

The teenager either had a wicked sense of humor, or no clue about real life. "K have fun," she wrote, ending our text exchange for the evening.

* * * * *

That Wednesday night wasn't as late at work as I had expected, at least for myself. The staff was going to be working past midnight. But, weary from the travel and my nerves frayed by Lilac, I was a useless lump of flesh most of the night. At 9 pm, my business colleague told me to get my ass home and get some good sleep. I delayed and stalled, but eventually, I headed out, feeling defeated.

All I could think about, driving home, was Lilac. Nude Lilac in my bed, wanting me, begging for it. I turned her down. I was proud of doing it, it was the right thing to do. I still couldn't figure out why I felt like shit, there was something wrong about this whole situation and it was pissing me off. Something needed to be right.