Breathing deeply, telling my inner Casey what a foolish thing I'm doing, but not heeding my own advice. Taking one last deep breath and walking unsteadily to his porch and knocking on his door. Even softly, it rattles in the frame.
No response.
Harder now, until I hear the sounds of him moving, shuffling towards me. The door cracks open, then slams shut.
"Who is it?"
We play the game, even after all this time.
"Sam, it's me, Casey."
Silence, as if he's processing this, but I know better. Tom Petty sings in my head:
"The wa-a-aiting is the hardest part."
Finally, "Kelly? That you?"
I sigh. "Yeah, Sam." He almost never calls me by my correct name; he told me once he thought it was a silly name, so I answer to Kelly or Callie or whatever he decides on.
"Why you still got your clothes on?"
Now I smile. It's degrading, but I know what it means. At this stage, he knows I'll do anything. This isn't my first time undressing on his front porch.
I step out of my shorts, checking the road for traffic. Then my panties. I wear them when I come out here, even though Sam would tear them off me if I wore them inside.
They're for later.
My top comes off next, then my sneaks. Sometimes I leave them on, but not today.
Still no cars. Good. I begin to relax just a little as I knock again.
"Give me a minute."
It's ten minutes, at least. Three cars pass by, but no horns honk, nobody howls at the naked teenager on this rickety porch. I knock again.
"Come on in."
Inside, it's gloomy-dark, broken only by the glow of the TV. "Let's Make a Deal" is on. (How appropriate!) People shriek and jump up and down on the screen, just to my left. Sam is straight ahead in his recliner, his feet up. His friend Franklin is there on the sofa, as always. He acknowledges me; Sam is focused on the TV. Again, I question myself again, but I need this. It's been seven months and I'm out of my mind for Sam.
I pull the door closed and move to him. Run my hands up the legs of his rumpled work pants. I can already see the bulge, but I don't touch it until he looks at me.
"Where ya been, girl?"
There is almost a smile behind those scowling eyes. I reach for his zipper.
"I told you…" I speak softly, slowly, as I dig for him, "…I was going to North Carolina. Remember?"
He dismisses this with a snort, as if he's pissed I had to go off to college, but I see his eyes soften slightly as I pull his semi-hard dick out of his pants. Franklin is babbling on about something – the TV show, the weather, me – but I'm not listening.
Sam's dick is my world right now. It's magnificent, growing inside the grasp of my hands. He's still the biggest man I've ever seen. I feel a million butterflies take flight in my stomach as I feel it harden.
Sam doesn't look at me as I lean over. I want it in my mouth again, but I'm straddling the footrest of his recliner; his feet. I duck under quickly, popping up like a hungry prairie dog between his legs. I feel giddy. Taking the head in my mouth, I stroke one tiny hand up and down its length. The excess skin moves between my lips, bunching and retreating. I taste him; his funk. I don't care.
Sam allows me to lick my way around his shaft, up and down over the head, working my head like a porn actress in a cheap video. He doesn't hold my head, doesn't even acknowledge me, but his dick responds. It flexes and throbs as I make love to it. I want it inside me so badly!
Sam knows this. First, he has other plans. "How about my friend?" he asks, nodding at Franklin, who has been watching me work it. "Ain'tcha gonna do anything for him?"
I know what he wants, so I crawl back under and move over to Franklin. His dick is already out, expecting my mouth or my pussy. I go to my knees and swallow it in one smooth motion. Franklin's hands go to my head, but he doesn't press me. I'm allowed my own rhythm; he just rides along, enjoying my attention until he spews his old seed into the back of my throat.
Back to Sam. This time he's more into me. His strong hands force my face downward, then pull it back up. Sam likes to face-fuck me. I concentrate on my breathing as he hammers me onto him. This goes on for a few minutes. Tears are streaming down my face; my throat is getting raw.