The Exchange Student
I don’t know how I get myself into these situations, I start out with the best of intentions but they always turn on me in the end. The exchange student fiasco was no exception to this rule. Now I was expecting a geeky teenage boy, or maybe a chubby girl going through her awkward phase. Not… her. Now don’t get me wrong, there is nothing actually wrong with her, in fact I would say that is the problem, she is perfect. Full, luscious breasts and an absolutely tiny waist that gave way to wide hips and an ass that just screams “bite me”. That was bad enough, I would have been safe with a beautiful girl, hell a goddess if only she had been underage. After all, I expected to be getting a highschool student, you know someone preferably around the age of 16, not a 19 year old nympho. In retrospect I think her parents may have funded her term abroad so they could get her out of their hair, because god knows she was a handful, and I mean that in more ways than one…
Hailey was, and is in fact, absolutely insane, and I mean that in the most complimentary of ways. While most exchange students are abroad in order to study and be students, but not her. From the first night she was with us she was out on the town, she would be out all night and come home as the sun was starting to climb in the sky. Or even worse she would bring home a guy, we put a stop to that after the first time it happened and she woke my wife and I up with our 16 year old daughters bed pounding against the wall as some stranger absolutely plowed her young cunt.
Now at the start I tried to be good, kept my eyes on her face or on the floor or anywhere but on her chest. I think this was actually the source of my downfall, she was used to being desired and having someone not looking at her body was something of a foreign concept to her. I might have hoped that she would just take the hint and leave it alone, but instead she took it as a challenge. She started wearing even more revealing clothing than normal, or arranging for me to catch glimpses of her exposed anatomy.
Even then I might have been ok if my marriage had been sexually fulfilling. Now I know this sounds like I am shifting the blame, but believe me I know that what I did was wrong, it’s just that when Hailey moved into our house for the summer it had been a solid 6 months since the last time my wife had fucked me. We had gotten onto something of a twice a year plan, once for Christmas and once for my birthday… not what you can call an ideal arrangement. In fact, far from being ideal it was a contributing factor to my downfall. Those little glimpses, or her “accidently” rubbing up against me as we passed in the hall started to mess with my head, she started filling my dreams. While my wife would lay next to me snoring softly I would be stroking my cock and thinking of the girl in the next room and what her tender young cunt felt like. It could not continue for long without something having to give, and when my end came I welcomed it with open arms. I still remember the day that I got more than just a glimpse. Everyone in the house was out, except her and I. I walked into the kitchen and she had her tits out and a hand down the front of those skin tight little sweat pants that always drove me so wild. My brain shut down in that moment, I should have yelled at her to cover up, but the sight of her stroking her cunt, moaning deliciously, and playing with her perky young tits just sent my mind into over drive. I froze, stood there staring at her blankly. She looked up, made eye contact with me, and there was no mistake, she was doing it on purpose.
“Oh… sorry Mr. G, how embarrassing. I thought everyone had left…” she said after a moment that seemed to stretch out forever.
It was almost a credible excuse, though why she would be masturbaiting in the kitchen even if she thought everyone was gone was beyond me. But it was good enough that I could do nothing but mutter an apology and leave the room with a face that was red enough to be used as a stripe on the american flag.
Things really escalated from there. Any time we were alone she would make a pass at me. For example there was the time she showered with the door wide open knowing that I was just down the hall, or the time she dropped herself into my lap and pretended she had tripped (though she didn’t make much effort to get up either…). I should have said something, I should have put a stop to it… but I am weak… and god she is so hot…
My end may have started on the day that I caught her playing with herself in the kitchen, but I was truly lost around a month after that. We had been playing, and flirting in a mostly harmless way since then, and it was another day when everyone was out of the house.
I was expecting something, I might even have been looking forward to her trying something if the truth be told. But what happened next is not something I will forget, not even if I wanted to. I was wandering around the house, looking for her, because it was a bit too quiet and I suspected that something was up. I had just given up and decided that she must have gone out without me noticing, and the idea of a nap had sounded nice and inviting. I had entered the bedroom and been ready to lay down when I saw her. She was bare naked, wearing nothing but a pair of socks, and her legs were spread just enough to give me a glimpse of her slit. Again my mind stalled (not something I am all that proud of but when you get to be over 40 it happens), I was expecting something… but not this…
“I am tired of playing.” She said
“What?” I asked with all the wit of a canned fish.
“I said, I am tired of playing. Since you put a stop to my having guys over I have been going crazy I need to get fucked, and since you are the only guy in the house I suppose it has to be you.” She said confidently, as if there was no chance she was going to be refused.
“I am married…” I said knowing the excuse sounded as lame to her as it felt to me.
“So? That didn’t stop you from watching me shower, and you never did tell your wife about catching me in the kitchen.” She said smugly
“I don’t know what you…” I started to say. I was struggling for an excuse, any excuse, but the site of her bare, fresh, young body so eager, so willing to be used… well it was enough to make any man weak.
“Shut up and fuck me… please?” she said with just a hint of a plea in her voice.
If we were being completely honest I never had a chance, not from the second I walked in on her, but this was the final straw. Throwing caution to the wind I all but pounced on her, my middle aged bulk pinning her to the mattress beneath me. She writhed in my arms, just enough to press the softest parts of her anatomy against mine rather than from any desire to escape my arms.
Several deft movements on her part was enough to free my cock from my pants, which had been rapidly becoming increasingly confining as our lips had wrestled. Without making the concious decision to do so my cock thrust into the wet space between her legs, penetraiting deep inside her teenaged cunt and destroying the sanctity of my marriage in one fell swoop. She clutched at my back and made a hiss of pure delight and appreciation, urging me on, encouraging me to ravish her without restraint
I would like to paint a picture of a tender and passionate scene, of two people in love joining together to make something beautiful. I would like to say that, but I cannot, not without lying. There was nothing romantic about our session, it was animalistic, it was crude, and it was satisfying. Urges that had been so long ignored or repressed were allowed to come to the front in a way that had been sorely needed. With her blessing and encouragement I thrust into her with unrepentant fury, pounding a cock that was old enough to belong to her father into her tight little teenage cunt. She squirmed and twisted, voicing her enthusiastic appreciation for our coupling, until I put my hand over her mouth to quiet her. I held her down, the urge to dominate her overwhelming. For her part she was an enthusiastic fuck toy, resisting just enough to make it a challenge without actually wanting to resist.
Again I would like to paint a picture that puts me in a good light, a picture where we moved from position to position, hours of lovemaking under our belts. But again, I would be lying. If we lasted more than 15 minutes I would be shocked. She whispered into my ear that she was cumming, her nails biting deep into my back, her legs locking around my waist, and it was more than I could bare. I managed one more thrust, maybe two, before I unloaded within her. I expected her to be livid, to curse at me as my wife so often had if I forgot to pull out on our infrequent couplings, but instead she urged me on, begged me to pump her full of cum, and I was happy to do so.
As we lay together in the aftermath the seriousness of what I had just done hit me full force. This little vixen could destroy my life, undo my marriage. She lay in my arms, our bodies drenched with the sweat of our joining, but it felt as though it were I who was in the palm of her hands. But she said nothing.
After a time she got up and left without saying another word. I showered and cleaned myself up in plenty of time before my wife came home and she never appeared to suspect that anything was amiss.
In the weeks that followed I expected the worst, expected her to rat me out, to throw me under the bus. But what I expected never came to pass. Instead we entered into one of the most conflicted periods of my life. I was in shere bliss in one sense, as we fucked like bunnies every chance we got, but at the same time I was consumed by guilt. Until the day she left I both dreaded and anticipated our times together, and although I have neither seen nor heard from her since I am consumed, my dreams filled with the image of her pert young breasts rising and falling in the throes of passion as I pump load after load into her again. I don’t know what to do but I am no longer happy in my marriage. Although she never told of our illicit affair she had doomed me never the less, for why would I be happy with a human when I had a goddess.
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