WIO/Kara/s/neighbor your house
From Create Your Own Story
"I can help you out with that answering machine," he says a little loudly as he gets out of his car.
You don't see anyone else around, but you don't have long to ponder just for whom he said it, as he guides you back to your house with a strong hand. His other hand is quite frequently grazing your breast, and you ask yourself if you are really so desperate.
Once inside your house, Mr. Cummings shuts and locks the front door. While you are not entirely innocent, this is not playing out at all like you imagined, and you realize that your lecherous neighbor is in complete control.
"You have turned into quite the woman, Kara", Mr. Cummings steps towards you, and grabs your wrist. With his other hand he twists a lock of your red hair on his finger. He steers you toward the brand-new couch. You realize there can be no evidence of you whoring yourself for this ride to school, especially not on your mother's new furniture.
"Why, thank you, Mr. Cummings," you step towards him and lead him into the kitchen, and flash a seductive smile. You are going to get this over with quickly, and just get on with your day.
"You know what I like, Kara?" He asks while slipping the flimsy straps of your mini-dress off your shoulders.
You reach for his fly and start to grab the zipper, "Your cock sucked?" You guess. He bats your hand away, smirks and says, "Of course, but that wasn't what I had in mind. You get two more guesses." He starts to unzip your dress, and lets it fall to the floor. He strokes your breast where it perks out of your push-up bra, and you can't help but enjoy the sensation a small bit.
"Titty fucking?" You say, and you shimmy in your black and pink brassiere. He laughs, letting you know that this too is the wrong answer. "Last guess" he says, pressing you to him and rubbing himself against your underwear clad body.
"I don't know," you say. You look at the clock, so much for getting this over with quickly, you think. 7.15 and still talking.
"Not very sporting," he chides, and undoes your bra. He cups and then squeezes your breasts, moaning a little. "Well, it could be teenage pussy, or 69, or anything!" You exclaim, reaching again to his fly, hoping to speed things along. You get your hand around his long, hard stick and squeeze.
"Bartering," he gasps. He backs you into the counter, and moves your arms to the sides of the counter-top. You look slightly confused, and he elaborates, "There are costs, and how far I drive you is dependent upon how far you're willing to go."
This is more complicated than you anticipated. You just have to get all the way to school, right?
"So Kara," Mr. Cummings leans in, "for a blow job, I will drop you a mile away, and for a good stand-fucking, I will drop you right at the front doors." He starts to play with your purple thong and smiles, thinking he already knows your answer.
Which will it be? You've had sex with your ex-boyfriend a few times (always missionary, yawn), but which is worse: fucking this creeper or walking for a mile? After some thought you:
| Status | ||
| Day | 1 | Inventory:
Phone, wallet. |
| Time | 7:20 | |
| Money | $35 | |
