Her name was Hillary which supposedly meant “cheerful” and was the complete opposite of her personality. Standing at the roadside bus stop in the early morning, “dour” might be a way to describe her for as I passed her each morning.

It became apparent that Hillary was waiting for the bus to commute over the mountains to the city. What made this unusual was that Hillary the stuck out like a sore thumb. Standing a willowy five-feet-nine, her long straight whitish-blonde hair was sensibly clipped at her temples to frame her librarian-glasses, her gray-blue eyes, a straight but modest nose, and thin pink lips.

Her milky complexion and slender figure matched her school uniform that consisted of a plain button-down white blouse over a pleated light grey tartan skirt that precisely an inch above her knees. The final touch was thin white stockings that rose to midway up her shins and sensible oxford shoes. If she smiled, Hillary would have been pleasant looking in a girl-next-door kind of way, but this something she wasn’t inclined to do.

From her distinctive school uniform, everyone knew that Hillary was a “Priory Girl” or a student of the very exclusive and extremely expensive all-girl academy. The middle-low income community that she lived in was mainly “brown” (Polynesian) and “yellow” (Asian). “White” (Caucasian) people like Hillary who were supposedly well off were far and few, and limited to small pocket of upscale homes deep in the valley.

While no one would molest a single white girl standing on the side of the road all by herself, they found it difficult to believe that one of the elite would stoop to use public transportation. They also weren’t above staring, cat-calls, and dubious offers of assistance. This may explain why Hillary has a stern no-nonsense, don’t-bother-me demeanor.

How I got to meet and know Hillary was due to a series of events and a random act of kindness. I was driving to work when I passed the bus that Hillary was waiting for and it was clearly very late. The sky was dark with rain and sporadic heavy drops fell on my windshield by the time I approached Hillary. There she was stoically standing there with her books held over her head in the face of the coming rain. It was obvious that she had not expected rain for she had no raincoat or umbrella. I could have just driven by but before I knew it, I pulled up along side of her.

“Miss,” I called out to Hillary who seem shocked and leery of my sudden arrival, “your bus is late and several stops back. By the time it gets here, you’ll be drenched. I know you don’t know me from Adam, but can I give you a lift?” The distrust on her hardening face quickly gave me my answer.

“Okay…look…here take my umbrella,” I said as I pulled my golf umbrella from the back seat and passed it through the window to her. “Come on, take it. Don’t be stupid.” Then pulling out my business card, I hastily scribbled my cell telephone on its back and handed it to Hillary who hesitantly held my umbrella. “Here’s my card with my cell phone number. Call if you want to return my umbrella – if not, no problem. Are you sure I can’t give you a lift? No…well…I don’t blame you. Take care.” As I merged back into traffic, I was pleased to see in my rearview mirror, Hillary opening my umbrella and looking at my card.

A couple of days had passed without a word from Hillary, and I was okay with the lost of my golf umbrella. It therefore came as a surprise to me when my cell rang, and I found Hillary on the other side. “Umm, I don’t know if you remember me, but my name is Hillary. You loaned me your umbrella, and I’m sorry that I haven’t returned it. But… ummm…it’s been raining quite a lot, .and…”

When I told her that if she didn’t have an umbrella that she should just keep it because we were in for a bad spell of weather. I said that she shouldn’t worry about it since I had a lot of umbrellas, and I swear I could hear a sigh of relief over the phone.

There was an awkward moment of uncomfortable silence, and then Hillary said, “I’ll be at the bus stop tomorrow morning at 6:15…ummm…could you…ummm…stop by? I’d like to give you something…ummm… if you don’t mind…” I chuckled and said that I’d see her tomorrow morning before wishing her a good night and hanging up. Then for some reason, I saved Hillary’s cell number in my phone.

The next morning I was waiting in my car just after the bus stop and saw Hillary coming out of the valley where she lived. Seeing me, she hurried in crossing the highway as I rolled down my passenger window. Hesitantly Hillary approached my open window and then handed me a Ziploc bag of cookies.

“I baked these for you last night… ummm…as a way of saying…ummm…thanks…for caring. Your umbrella has saved me more than once…although I don’t know about today…”

“Look, Hillary,” I said, “the weather report said that’s going to pour with wind that will make the rain come in sideward. I know that you have no reason to trust me, escort sincan but let me give you a lift into town. No strings attached. I work one block from the Priory and if anything, at least you’ll get to school looking dry. Hey, if I do anything, you report me to the police since you’ve got my business card. So, what do you say? We can eat your cookies along the way.”

I could see that Hillary was hesitant as to whether to trust me. Just then as if on cue, there was a sudden downpour and a gust of wind. As shocked Hillary fumbled to open her umbrella, I urgently pleaded, “Come on, get in before you get drenched!”

In a leap of faith, Hillary scurried into my front seat and slammed the car door shut. Immediately arranging her pleated skirt and brush back her hair from her face before taking off her glasses to wipe them. “Ummm, thanks, Milton…it is okay if I call you Milton, isn’t it? You were right about the weather. I was only a minute in the rain, and I was nearly soaked.”

A side glance at her show that her white blouse was translucently plastered against her upper torso, hinting of a white lacy camisole and bra. I turned on the heater and Hillary sighed as the warm air countered the chill of her wet clothing. Seen without her glasses, Hillary wasn’t bad looking – a bit plain and definitely no beauty queen – but still not bad.

Between rush hour traffic, chocolate chip cookies, and my quirky humor, I managed to work my way into Hillary’s confidence. Slowly she disclosed as a matter of fact that she was living by herself since her mother whom she described as “flaky” left her alone to traipse Europe with her current boyfriend. When I asked about her father, Hillary blushed and murmured that her Mom didn’t bother to get married and until this day, wouldn’t tell her who her father was.

Hillary then said that if it wasn’t for her rich, old-money grandparents on the East Coast, she would be on her own. “My gramps and gram pulled some strings and got me into the Priority when I was little. Because they know how irresponsible my mom is, they provide me a living allowance since I’m their only granddaughter. When I graduated in a few months, they going to pay for her tuition, room, and board at Princeton to which I’ve already been accepted.”

I shared with Hillary that I knew what it was like being alone. My parents had passed away some time ago, leaving me to pretty to fend for myself. I had worked my way through college and then law school. I had managed to pass my bar exams and to secure a position with an established law firm. The job entailed a lot of legal research, but it was considered part of paying my dues. I was always the first in and the last out of the office since I was the low-man-on-the-totem-pole. However, I didn’t mind because I was single and unattached with lot of time on my hands and nothing better to do.

Our conversation ended on that note as I pulled to the curb to drop Hillary off. Then before I knew it, I casually said, “Hey, Hillary, if you need a lift – or someone to talk to – give me a call.” A small smile graced her lips as she thanked me, looking a strange blend of surprise, uncertainty, and relief before she got out and closed the door.

I didn’t hear from Hillary, and didn’t I see her when I passed her bus stop. I figured that our encounter might have scared her so that she changed her routine. With a mental “oh well” I continued to go about my business, and was surprised when my cell rang late Friday night.

“Hi Milton, this is Hillary. I’m sorry to bother you…” There was an awkward pause until I asked how she was doing. “Oh…ummm… I got drenched in the last storm, but I didn’t think it would rain so hard. Ummm, and, yes, I know I could have called you. But I didn’t want to bother you.”

When I urged her to continue, she whispered, “Milton, I’m sick – really sick. I’ve been running a fever and chills, throwing up, achy, and I’m kind of weak. I haven’t been able to shake this. I think I need to see a doctor.”

I asked about her health insurance, and Hillary said she was under her grandparents’ health plan, but her pediatrician had retired before the start of the year. Her mom had said that if anything happened while she was away for Hillary to go to the hospital emergency room.

“Oh…I don’t even have a way to get to the hospital. I thought of a taxi, but I wouldn’t know what to do once I got there. Milton, you’re the only person I could think of. Can you… please help me?”

An hour later we were in the emergency room with Hillary undergoing a series of tests. As it turned out, she had a bladder infection which the doctor attributed to not being able to urinate on her long wait for and ride on the bus. After some counseling, a urinary anesthetic, and an antibiotic prescription from the pharmacy, I dropped her off at her house. I made Hillary promised me to call and not wait the next time. I then added by saying that although it was the weekend, I’d be at my place doing some legal ankara escort research and more than welcomed an interruption.

I was never the less surprised when Hillary called the following evening and frantically blurted, “Milton! Something is wrong! I’m peeing ‘blood’…I think. It’s really dark… orange…or brownish-red.” When I asked if she was in pain or still running a fever, Hillary replied that she was feeling better but just shocked after the recent turn of events. Calming her down, I told her that I’d be over in a flash.

Hillary who looked like she had slept in her sleep clothes for a week, weakly folded into my arms as soon as I entered. “Thanks for coming, Milton,” she whispered gratefully as she wearily rested her head against my shoulder, “I’m so worried…” Looking at her medicine I then called the hospital and inquired about what to do. It was then I was informed that a possible side effect of the Hillary’s antibiotic is urine discoloration which wasn’t a problem.

“Oh, Milton. I’m so sorry for making you come down. I feel so silly.” I hushed her and told Hillary to relax. Then looking at her, I suggested at she take a shower to freshen up while I made her some proverbial “chicken noodle soup” – fresh from the can. Hillary laughed and nodded and drifted off to the bathroom while I headed to the kitchen. While the soup was on the stove, I looked about to find a neat and orderly house which was surprising for a teenager and spoke volumes of Hillary’s mature nature.

Dressed in a long terrycloth robe that covered what looked like a long gauzy sleepshirt, Hillary slow ate the soup, and with each spoonful seem to relax. She lifted her long damp hair behind her ears while sheepishly smiling when I scolded her for her poor eating habits and said that I’d make sure that she put some meat on her bones.

At this Hillary chuckled, “I could use some ‘meat.’ Do you know what my nickname is? The girls at school tease me by calling me ‘Hilly.’ No, it’s not a derivative of ‘Hillary’ – but – a put down because I’m so flat.” With that she surprised me by opening her robe to show me her gauze-covered chest to prove her point. However, in so doing Hillary showed me that she was braless judging by the small pointy peaks in the thin material of her sleep shirt.

When Hillary saw my surprise reaction and realized what she was flashing me, she hastily stammered, “Jeez, Milton, I sorry. I didn’t mean to be so shameless. I’m so embarrassed – but I’m definitely not ‘hilly’ in the boob department.”

I chuckled that I liked what I saw and that she could show me her ‘hills’ anytime she wanted. Hillary smile as she sat back, looking at me in a curious way. Then in true Hillary-awkward straightforwardness, she asked, “Milton…do you find me attractive?” When I hemmed and hawed, she pressed me as she reached across the table to touch my hand. “Do you find me attractive?”

Figuring that two could play the “to the point” game, I leaned forward and said, “I didn’t at first. When I pulled over to the side of the road to offer you my umbrella, it was truly an act of random kindness.” Then looking her right in her pale blue eyes, I continued, “But – the more I am with you – yeah – I find you attractive – in a drown mouse kind of way.” Hillary smiled at my pronouncement and after a pause, I said, “I think that you need to get some sleep and so I’d better leave. I’ve got a lot of reading to do and…”

“Milton – could you stay a little longer? I know you have a lot of work to do, but…” Hillary hesitated then quietly murmured, “It’s my…eighteenth birthday. And I kind of don’t want to spend it alone. You’re the only person I know who’s kind of cares about me. You do, don’t you? Maybe, we could order a pizza…and could you… please?”

What could I say? I mean it’s not that I had anything better to do or for that matter, to look forward to. I had to admit to myself that I kind of liked Hillary, and when I thought about my response to her question, I really did find her attractive in a “diamond in the rough” kind of way.

“Pepperoni…with extra cheese… okay? And it’s on me to celebrate your birthday.” Hillary beamed a brilliant smile (the first of many to come) and I realized for the first time just how pretty she was and how enticing her lips were.

Hillary must have been a mind reader because before I knew it, she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me with a mixture of inexperience, urgency, and enthusiasm. I was stunned by her bold move and I desperately tried to remember that I was some eight years older and shouldn’t be doing this with a high school girl. However, my tongue had a mind of its own and when it slipped into her welcoming mouth, such thoughts slipped easily from my mind.

“Oh, wow,” gasped Hillary, “that was my first kiss by a man. Uhmm, I was wondering if you would be willing…ooh, I shouldn’t ask…”

Surprised at her sudden reticence, I told her to just tell me what she wanted. Then after a bit of hesitation, etimesgut escort bayan Hillary whispered, “I was wondering…if you would…make love to me…tonight. I mean all the girls at school have boyfriends – not that you have to be mine. But they talk… about making out…and losing their virginity. They tease me for being so socially and sexually retarded. Since I’m no longer a minor…”

With downcast eyes, Hillary struggled to express herself and finally murmured, “Look, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m kind of throwing myself at you. I mean we barely know each other and for all you know I’m some psycho teenager. Ooh, you must think that I lured you over here. Shoots, this isn’t coming out the way it’s supposed to. Look, Milton. I know that I nothing to look at, and I wouldn’t blame you if you if you didn’t want to…”

This time I kissed Hillary slowly and tenderly until I felt her melt in my arms. “Hmmm, I definitely could get used to doing this,” she murmured as my lips nibbled on her exposed earlobe before blazing a lazy wet path down her long creamy neck. Her willowy body pressed hotly against mine, and before I knew it, I was pulling her to me as my hands caressed her lithe form. Running down her back, my fingertips confirmed that she was naked under her thin sleepshirt. When I squeezed her firm buns and was pleased when Hillary awkwardly jerked at first then feverishly ground herself against my loins.

“I take this,” Hillary said as her hand dropped down to hesitantly stroke my telltale erection, “as a ‘yes’ to my request. And just so that you know, I just had my period, so I know I’m not fertile. You don’t have to worry about ‘protection’ and…”

“Do you always talk so much?” Lifting her in my arms, I jokingly commented as I carried her to the bedroom, “Just be quiet and enjoy your birthday present… I hope you like it.”

Without further ado, I caressed her lithe body, feeling her yield and respond to my touch. I pushed her sleep shirt up Hillary’s slender legs that closed automatically as her straw-colored pussy was revealed. My hands followed her hip line until they were under buried underneath her to cup and squeeze her firm buns while my tongue licked her tender inner thighs until her legs parted of their accord. Flicking my tongue, I licked her fragile feminine petals of her teenage pussy and savored the sweetest nectar that I had ever tasted.

Her breasts were small snow-white cones that disappeared into her heaving chest, leaving only fragile cherry blossom pointy tips sticking up. Sliding up her squirming body, I inhaled first one then the other tit, causing Hillary to moan loudly. She emitted this soft whine cry when her rosebud nipples became thick pencil eraser tips under my swirling and lashing tongue as I vacuumed each small boob into my mouth.

Hillary whimpered pitifully out as I latched on one stiff nipple to tug it from her heaving chest while I rolled her other rubbery cylinder between my thumb and forefinger. “Oh, Milton! God, what are you doing to me? I can hardly breathe. But, don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

“Are you sure,” I teased as I looped my arms under her squirming legs to lift and spread them to expose her virginal cunt, “that you want me to continue?” The shaft of my rock-hard erection slid between her slippery slit like an obscene hot dog being slipped between swollen buns of her pussy lips. I then pulled back to let my flanged head plop lewdly in and out of the wet opening of her femininity that was well-lubricated by my saliva and her free-flowing pussy juices.

“Ohh, Milton! Please don’t tease me. I’m burning up. I want you so badly. Please… please…don’t tease me.” Suddenly Hillary’s squirming and tossing stopped as she tensed, her slender body lurching as she clasped me to her, her long legs locking around mine. “Aarghh,” she cried out as with a thrust of my hips, by fleshy battering ram breached the last vestige of her innocence and virginity. “Aarghh, oh, my God, that hurts! No, no, don’t move. Please, oooh, shit,” Hillary pleaded as she gasped desperately for air, “Let me get use to you…oooh, shit…don’t move…”

Moaning as she shifted to accommodate my intruding presence, Hillary muttered, “Oh, oh, oh/ yeah that feels better. I never imagined you’d be so big. God, I feel like I’ve been impaled on a log. Oooh, it hurt, but is getting better. It’s good that I’m so wet, oooh, yeah, oooh, yeah. But please go slow…you’re stretching me out…and so deep…”

With that I began to gradually pump my hips, gratified to hear the wet squishing of Hillary’s bodily fluids, to feeling her body loosen and relax, and to hear her groans of growing passion. With each movement of our bodies, I slowly sank into the tightest, hottest, and wettest cunt that I had ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

“Oh, Milton, don’t stop! So, this is what it feels like to be ‘fucked’! God, I love it. I love being a ‘woman’…your woman. Oh, Milton, make love to me.” And boy, did I, reveling in how her velvet wetness of her convulsing teenage body gripped and milked my pumping cock. Before long gave Hillary erupted in her first orgasm that was quickly followed by her first sperm douche of many to come.



Yorum Ekle

E-Mail Adresiniz Yayınlanmayacak. Zorunlu Alanlar *