Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 31838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Yet Ellen’s different. Of course, the lust is clearly there. I tried so hard not to look at sweet girl as she sat in the passenger seat, but I couldn’t help but notice the way the car’s vibrations shook the enormous softness of her tits where they lay under the thin material of her dress. The way her small, dainty hands lay nervously on her luscious thighs, hidden beneath the hem of the flimsy skirt. The way her sweet, delicate scent filled every breath I took. But I failed, and all I could do is grip the steering wheel and hope she didn’t notice my hard-on.
Even crazier, Ellen’s not the kind of girl who dresses to attract male attention. In fact, her dress is nowhere even close to the kind of skimpy things worn by the women I’m used to fucking, which have cut-outs so scandalous that their tits are hanging out of those v-shaped triangles. Instead, Ellen’s dress is a modest floral thing that practically comes down to the knee when she’s standing. If anything, it’s obvious that she’s trying to hide her curves, which is a one eighty from what I’m used to.
Now, we’re finally at the coffee shop. Maybe if we’re in a public space I’ll be able to keep my filthy thoughts to a minimum and focus on listening to her, like I promised. But the sweet girl seems hesitant when we arrive, and I’m pissed off at myself because it seems I’ve managed to scare her with my bellows. So I try my best to put her at ease by bringing up the milkshake thing again, and to my surprise, it works.
“So a strawberry shake, right?” I ask.
“No, it’s okay,” she demurs while wiping at her eyes. “It’s fine. I’ll just get a coffee, thanks.”
Now we’re inside, and Ellen’s small hands nurse the welcome coolness of her iced java as I force myself to be friendly in an unassuming way.
“Well,” I manage in a neutral voice, “here we are. Do you feel better?” Ellen’s lips are full and pink, and when she smiles shyly, they reveal a perfect white smile. What would it feel like to have those teeth scraping gently along my cock, making me moan with pleasure? Instantly, I grow dizzy with lust again. Fuck. What am I supposed to do, exactly? I’m such a fucking douche.
But Ellen has no idea of my thoughts and merely giggles a bit.
“Yeah, I do feel better,” she murmurs. “Much better, in fact, so thanks.” She lifts the ice coffee to her mouth and takes a few small sips of the sweet, creamy beverage. I have to will myself not to focus on the way it coats her lips before she licks it absentmindedly off.
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to continue like nothing’s wrong.
“So what happened back there?” I growl. “It must be pretty bad if you’re crying in the street and nearly getting yourself killed.”
Ellen sighs, her eyes going distant as she looks out the window.
“My mom kicked me out,” she replies in a small voice. “It sucked.”
I grimace and shoot her a puzzled look.
“Okay, but why did she do that?” I ask gently. “Was there a reason?”
Ellen nods and looks down for a moment, refusing to meet my eyes. Then she takes a deep breath as if drawing courage from a deep well, and looks up, her gaze steady.
“It’s because I’m pregnant,” she says in a steady voice. “My mom lost her shit when I told her, and kicked me out as a result.” The words hit me like a freight train because I can hardly believe Ellen’s pregnant. My eyes immediately flick to her belly, and there’s a small bump there, but it could be because she’s got flesh on her bones, instead of being one of those scrawny creatures that’s all angles and lines.
“So your mom’s not supportive of your pregnancy?” I ask in a careful tone.
Ellen merely sighs, looking drawn.
“You can say that again,” she manages in a rueful tone. “Angela has this idea that because she got pregnant when she was a teenager, I somehow have to be better than that. That because I’m smart, I owe it to her not to repeat her mistake,” she carries on. “But that’s the thing because I don’t think I’m making a mistake at all!”
“Wait, wait, wait, hold on. You’re a teenager?” I breathe incredulously, unable to respond to any other part of what she said. So not only have I been fantasizing about fucking this perfect angel, but she’s basically a child. I’m disgusted with myself and immediately start thinking of ways I can get myself out of this mess without rocking the boat even more. But to my relief Ellen shrugs and says, “Not really.”
“What does that mean?” I demand. “You’re either a teenager or you’re not. Which is it?” It comes out harsher than I intend, and the sweet girl meets my eye with a slightly startled look. I instantly regret my tone.