Too Hot to Handle

It was time to admit defeat.

Neil Wyatt pulled into a small parking lot and stared over
at the small guesthouse that stood murky in the darkness.
Outside, the elements had gone berserk. A cloudburst was
battering against the glass of his window, hitting it with
all the fury the heavens could muster.

It was stupid to travel further. The windscreen wipers had
fought a valiant battle to clear a route through the deluge
but had failed gloriously. Neil switched off both them and
the engine and the relative silence came as a merciful
release.

He grabbed a small overnight bag from the back seat and
scrambled out of the car. God, where was this place? The
house seemed desolate. Did anyone actually live here? This
was going to be some bore of an evening!

A single bulb lit Neil's path to the solitary building.
Suddenly, there was a mighty gust and the groaning trees
behind him creaked to the accompaniment of the wind's roar
and the wild fluttering of leaves. It was a hell of a night!

The buffeting and the rain momentarily stalled him. For
several seconds Neil could make no headway against the force
of the wind, but then it dropped abruptly and he was free to
climb the two dripping steps to the open porch.

Flaking in one of the rain beaten windows was a wooden sign
on which the single word VACANCIES had been daubed in an
unsteady hand. Promising! But was there anyone in? Neil took
hold of the rusting knocker and slammed it down hard. A
hollow echo reverberated from deep inside. Christ, he
shivered as the wind spat rain once more at his face.
Christ, where was this place?

Someone was coming. The light in the hallway had been turned
on and he saw the shadow of an approaching figure through
the frosted glass. The door opened and a toothless old man
looked out suspiciously. "Aye?" was all he said.

"Do you have a room for the night?" Neil shouted above the
howl of the storm.

"Aye, we got rooms," the old man said slowly. He moved aside
and Neil gratefully stepped in.

"What an evening!" Neil exclaimed, staring down at himself
and his wet suit in amazement. "Look at me! I'm wet
through!"

The old man seemed unimpressed. "If you want a room it'll be
twenty pounds: cash. And all moneys is paid in advance. I
always insist: cash in advance."

Neil nodded his acceptance. "No problem," he said pulling
his wallet from his jacket pocket. He withdrew one of a
number of crisp twenty-pound notes and passed it to his
host.

The old man took it suspiciously, holding it up to the dim
light. "Breakfast is served downstairs," he said, finally
pocketing the note and watching closely as Neil placed his
wallet back into his pocket. "Between seven o'clock and
eight thirty. And don't bother to come if you're late. We
don't put up with no stragglers."

"That'll be fine," Neil said, picking up his bag. "I won't
be late."

"Right then, good. Mary Ann will show you to your room."

For the first time Neil noticed that they were not alone. A
girl of about seventeen or eighteen was standing at the far
end of the hallway and was watching them furtively from the
shadows.

Immediately she caught Neil's interest; there was something
wild and earthy about her, an untamed savagery that grabbed
him about the groin and squeezed with gusto.

Her mousy hair hung untied and unbrushed about her face and
shoulders. She wore a loose mustard colored top and beige
shorts that had been scythed with scissors to a very
indecent length.

But best of all, from the natural bounce of her breasts he
could see that she wasn't wearing a bra, her nipples made
small bumps in the fabric of her top. Neil was a sucker for
a girl without a bra: there was something deliciously
naughty about it and he found himself staring unashamedly at
her chest.

"Take the guest upstairs and show him a room," the old man
was saying to the girl. Neil was still staring at her bust.
"Hurry, mind. You got chores still to finish."

The girl glared back at him defiantly. "I don't want to do
no chores," she said sullenly, chewing upon her thumb and
remaining where she was.

"I said you were to take the guest upstairs," the old man
said with an edge to his voice. "Then you go and finish
those chores."

The girl pouted. For a moment they both stood irresolute, a
clash of wills: she wanted to defy him, Neil could sense it.
He could feel the tension, but suddenly, for whatever reason
she crumpled under his gaze, strode forward, and without
uttering a word she snatched Neil's bag from him and began
ascending the stairs.

"And I done the chores already," she called back defiantly.
But she didn't break stride or turn or in any other way
acknowledge the one to whom she was talking.

Neil realized that he should be following her, and quickly
did so, enjoying the naughty thoughts that surfaced at the
sight of the long bare legs and wriggling backside mounting
the stairs in front of him. Those shorts! Whoever had cut
the length could not have known. Not only could he see right
up her legs, he could also see the lower part of her cheeks!
Maybe this wasn't such a bad place to have stumbled upon,
after all.

She led Neil to a cold dusty room that was part way along a
short dingy corridor; she kicked open the door and escorted
him in. He switched on the light: a single bare bulb that
hung in the center of the room.

Neil looked round, imagining that perhaps he'd been caught
in a time warp: for the furniture, the carpets, the
decoration, they all seemed to have been plucked straight
out of the 1940s. You could sell this place on its period
charm, he thought, if only 'charm' for this room was not
such a lie.

Mary Ann carelessly dropped his bag on to the floor and
crossed to the window. Outside the windstorm was driving the
rain into sheets and tossing it against the glass. She drew
the curtains and suddenly the illusion was complete: he had
been transported into a different world.

"Are you married?" she asked curtly.

"No," Neil replied, casually opening the bathroom door and
looking inside. "No, I'm not married."

"There's, there's hot water in there," she called after him,
suddenly more cheerful. "And it's got a shower!"

"Yes, I can see that," Neil sighed, noticing the torn
curtain and the ingrained dirt.

"It's a nice shower," she called out. "I use the shower in
there sometimes."

Um! He held that thought; it was a pleasant one. She had a
good figure; he imagined her naked in the shower cubicle,
that right now he could spy on her through the torn curtain;
could see her rubbing lather along silky thighs, into the
crease of her buttocks. He imagined he could see her
reflection in the cracked mirror, the water running down her
breasts, dripping from her distended nipples.

In this dream he wanted her to turn, he wanted to see her
pussy, but at the same time he was frightened that if she
did so she would see him looking and would scream for help.

"Perhaps we could take a shower together."

He jumped out of his reverie; she had come up behind him and
had whispered the words into his ear, totally disconcerting
him by the abruptness of the suggestion. Had she sensed what
he'd been thinking? He blushed at the thought.

"What? No. Maybe, maybe another time."

He couldn't believe what he'd just said. A sexy teenager had
just offered to shower with him and he'd turned her down.

"You got a girlfriend, then?" she asked ruefully.

She pulled her top tight as she said it, making the material
stretch and defining clearly the outline of her breasts
underneath.

This was stuff dreams are made of. The girl was trying to
seduce him. Why didn't he just take her in his arms and kiss
her? He might go his whole life and never have a stranger
make a play for him the way Mary Ann was doing.

"No. No girlfriend," he replied.

"Then you're gay?"

"No. Not gay either."

She crossed to the bed and sat down upon it, bouncing up and
down as if to check the springs. Obviously satisfied, she
then rolled to the center, one of her tits almost escaping
in the process.

"I like this bed," she exclaimed, sprawling upon it
luxuriantly. "It's all soft and comfortable. I come here to
get way from Gramps, and sometimes I'll settle down and play
with myself. You know there's room for two in this bed?"

The problem, he had to admit, was that he'd never had
experience of a woman who was this forward, who was so
sexually aggressive and therefore he was in unknown
territory. He knew what he wanted to do; he wanted to pull
off her clothes and get in that bed with her; but did she
understand the consequences of her little game? After all,
she was barely more than a child. He had a nagging fear of
her crying rape as soon as he responded. And how would that
go down at home in leafy suburbia? Visions of police sirens
and prison cells stayed his hands.

"I feel horny," she said abruptly. "Would you mind if I
played with myself now?"

The question caused an image to flash into his mind. He
pictured her nude body writhing on the bed with her legs
open, her fingers stuffed inside as she brought herself to
orgasm. He knew he would not be able to resist if the image
became reality.

"But why do you need to resist?" a dark voice inquired from
deep inside him. "Why don't you just give the lady a little
of what she's after?"

He managed to defy that voice. "Don't you have a boyfriend?"
he asked in an attempt to change the subject.

"I had plenty of boyfriends," she asserted sullenly.

"I'm sure you have," Neil replied. He unzipped his overnight
bag and pulled out his suits. "You must be very popular:
you're very pretty."

"Pretty? Only pretty? Don't you think I'm sexy?" She
bolstered her tits in an effort to make a better impression.
"Gramps says I'm really hot."

He stared at the decolletage thrust out towards him. "You're
very desirable," he couldn't help himself saying.

She was silent for a while. She watched somber and broody as
Neil hung his suits in a small wooden wardrobe.

"There's not many men come by here," she sighed finally.

Neil paused. "I guess not," he said sympathetically.

It was an apparently insignificant comment, but it gave Neil
his first real inkling into her thinking. He put down the
suit he had been holding and sat down on the bed beside her.
"So why don't you leave? Go somewhere with a bit more life?"

"I'd like to. But how would I go?" She then spoke more
eagerly. "Would you take me?"

He was about to answer, to promise her the world and more
besides when the old man called from the bottom of the
stairs. "What you doing up there Mary Ann? You leave the man
alone hear! He don't want you bothering him."

"Down in a minute, Grandpa," she called back.

But she made no effort to leave. She sat waiting, so Neil
asked, "Who else lives here?"

"No one. I don't see no one. Not never. It's just me and
Gramps."

"You must get lonely," he sympathized.

She agreed emphatically. "Highly lonesome. Sometimes I get
real horny for a man, know what I mean?"

The dark voice inside told him to grab her in his arms and
rip off her clothes, but that was not his style. He moved
close, looking deep into her eyes. "I know what you mean,"
he whispered.

"Do you think I'm sexy?" she whimpered, her innocent eyes
shimmering as they stared back into his. "Would you take me
away from here?"

"I said you were to leave the man and let him get some
peace." The old man stood bent double in the doorway.
Physically he was frail and weak, but he held a dominating
presence in that doorframe.

Mary Ann immediately jumped up from the bed, scowling and
straightening her clothes.

"I was just helping the man settle in," she protested.

"I can see what you is doing," her grandfather snarled in
rebuke. "When I tell you to do chores, it ain't time to play
nooksie."

"I done the chores, Grandpa," she whined.

"You done the chores when I said you done them. Now get down
them stairs!"

She threw Neil a fleeting plea that communicated despair
mingled with frustrated lust before spinning round and
departing.

As soon as she was gone the old man relaxed. "You must be
hungry," he said easily. "Grown man like you. We got plenty
downstairs. When you got settled you come down and Mary Ann
will make you supper."

"Thank you," Neil said. "That's very good of you."

The old man's craggy face broke into a crooked grin.

*************************************


"That was excellent," Neil said, pushing away his empty
plate. "Thank you very much."

The old man looked over expectantly at Mary Ann, and she
obediently came and removed the plate. Neil watched her go:
those legs just as long and bare as they had been earlier.

"You don't have to hide the way you're looking," the old man
said.

"The way I'm looking?"

"I see you and your lusting looks. But it don't bother me."

Neil reflected. "I see," he said finally, his manner terse
and deliberate.

"But you is thinking about upstairs. I see it. You is
thinking about what I done: when I caught you affectionate.
What bothered me there was Mary Ann hadn't done the chores."

"Of course," Neil responded briefly, not wanting to be drawn
into a debate. "She's a very pretty girl."

"Pretty!" the old man expostulated. "I know what you mean by
pretty! But it won't do you no good. Mary Ann is way too hot
for your kind."

Neil didn't understand. "My kind?"

"Yep, your kind. You city folk is all alike. You eye up Mary
Ann, but you can't handle the beast in her. She's too much
the animal for you to sex with."

Neil protested. "Look, despite a lot of goading from her I
haven't so much as laid a finger of your granddaughter."

"I daresay. But you'd like to. You'd want to run your hands
all over her naked titties; I seen you can't keep your eyes
off them; you want to grab them and hold them. You want to
run your hands down inside her knickers and to stroke her
cunt."

Mary Ann had come back. "Gramps?"

"Shush, girl, can't you see I'm talking? You want to take
her to your bed and have your way with her. But I got to
warn you Mr. City Man, she may look just a girl, but she
handles like a woman."

Neil played with a loose cotton on the front of his shirt.
He couldn't disagree with anything that the old man had
said. He did want to hold her naked body and fuck her, but
the issue he now had to face was whether he was prepared to
openly admit it.

"I'm telling you, stay away from her. You can't handle her."

"Gramps," Mary Ann cried in anguished desperation. "Don't
say that. It makes me cry!"

He took her gently by the shoulders and looked into her tear
filled eyes. "It's for your good," he explained softly.
"He's a townie. How many times have I told you they're no
good? They can't handle you."

He swung round to Neil. "You don't believe it, do you?" he
demanded, sensing his confusion.

Neil at last allowed himself to be drawn. "If you say that
Mary Ann is, er, lively, then why should I disbelieve you?"

"We is not arguing about Mary Ann. We is arguing about you."

Mary Ann was beseeching him. "Don't upset the man, Gramps,
please!"

"So what are you saying?" Neil asked, his temper beginning
to rise. "Are you saying I can't satisfy a woman?"

"Of course you can't! You're a townie! Townie's don't make a
woman happy!"

"And I suppose you can? There's more to satisfying a woman
than giving her an orgasm. Do you think Mary Ann is happy
here? She's alone and lonely and sexually frustrated: I'd
say disturbed even. Christ! Who can blame her? When she's
got no one to talk to except an old goat like you!"

The old man smiled smugly. He seemed pleased by his success
in baiting his guest. "So you reckon you can make Mary Ann
happier in your town than I can here?"

"A thousand times yes!"

"You reckon she'd be happier in a city with city folk than
here with me..."

"Gramps, you know I would," Mary Ann interrupted. "I keep
telling you."

"Happier with men closer to her own age than with her
Gramps..."

"Yes, I do sir," Neil agreed.

"And perhaps you think you are better at making her happy in
a sexy way than I can?"

This suggestion caught Neil off guard and he was disgusted
by it. "What are you suggesting?" he exploded. "That's
incest! Is that what you do? You're her grandfather for
Christ's sake!"

The old man smiled triumphantly at him. "You're right
stewed, isn't you, boy? But don't boil away. We're not
related by blood, Mary Ann and me. I raised her yes, she
calls me Gramps because, because that's what I am, and I'm
all she's got, but she ain't tied to me by blood."

"Oh." Neil was deflated and confused.

"Townies!" the old man exclaimed jubilantly. "I'm seventy
eight years of age and I can please Mary Ann twice as much
as a townie like you."

"This is foolishness," Neil protested. "There's no need for
this to get personal."

"Foolishness, eh? You think I'm an old has-been, but there's
things I can do that a lad like you can't."

Neil smiled, but it was a mistake. It incensed the old man.

"You think I'm just an old fool," he bellowed. "Don't you
boy? Well, why don't you put your money where your mouth
is?"

"How's that?"

"Three things. All you got to do is try and copy me. If you
can do all three, then I'll let Mary Ann sleep with you.
How's that?"

Neil was aghast that he was willing to trade Mary Ann in a
bet, but his cock began to harden; it didn't have a
conscience. "What about Mary Ann?" he asked. "Doesn't the
lady get a say?"

The old man merely sneered at him. "The lady, as you call
her, is itching for it, ain't you Mary Ann?"

She scowled at him.

"I said ain't you, Mary Ann?"

Reluctantly she nodded.

"I heard you, girl," he jeered at her. "I heard you what you
said. Room enough in the bed for two, you said. I know what
you gets up to in that room. I even watches you at times.
Well, maybe you'll get your wish; maybe you'll get to fuck
with the man. I'll even let him take you away if he does it,
how's that? But then, don't hold your breath."

"What does he have to do?" Mary Ann asked him eagerly.
"You'll really let me go? He'll do your three things for
certain."

"Not so fast, girlie. The man hasn't told how he'll pay if
he loses."

"Loses?"

"If he can't copy me in them three things."

"What sort of payment are you after," Neil asked him.

"The contents of your wallet," the old man responded
immediately. "Now I don't know what's in there, whether it
is much or whether it is little, but whatever it is, then
it's mine if you can't copy."

Neil considered the proposition carefully. "None of these
three things involve anything dangerous? Or illegal?" he
asked.

"No sir. Not in the slightest."

"And no special skills? Nothing I wouldn't know how to do?"

"Nothing but what comes natural."

"But sexual? These are sex acts?"

"Three simple sex acts," the old man agreed.

"And no one else is involved?"

"Only the three of us here in the room."

"And Mary Ann won't have to do anything against her will?"

"No, sir. You is really stalling. Are you game or not?"

Neil considered. "Let's do it," he said, holding out his
hand. What did he have to lose? How was this old man going
to be able to do anything sexual that he wouldn't be able to
copy? He had as good as won!

The old man beamed. He seemed exquisitely happy. Immediately
he began directing matters. "You just get comfortable on
that chair," he said to Neil. "Because for the first thing,
Mary Ann's got to take her clothes off all sexy like and we
both got to watch it. Do you think you can do that, Mr. City
Man?"

Neil nodded confidently, hiding a rather smug smile. "I
think I can manage that."

He was now convinced that the old man was going senile. The
first of his three tasks was to watch Mary Ann undress, for
Christ's sake! Did the old man really believe that this was
such an enormous challenge?

"How should I do it, Grandpa?" Mary Ann was asking.

"Put yourself on some music," she was told. "One of them bad
ones I usually tell you not to play. Then do an undressing
dance like you do when you get real horny. That'll do nice."

There was a childish excitement about her as she pulled an
old LP record from a shelf and slipped the record out of the
sleeve. Christ, Neil thought. He hadn't seen an LP for
years.

The music started playing. It was an old Abba number,
"Dancing Queen", and Mary Ann immediately began swaying to
its beat.

"Go over there and stand by the fire," the old man told her.
"Give yourself some room, girl."

She began to jive to the music like the dancer in the song,
but added her own little variation, holding the bottom of
her top and pulling it tight across her breasts. She felt
pleased with herself; she liked showing herself to men.

Mary Ann moved confidently, though perhaps a little
clumsily. She was doing what pleased her without
embarrassment or coyness; neither did she feel shame for it
was not something she had been taught. There was a flush of
excitement about her countenance; it was a thrill to be
exciting, to be abandoned, to be wild. She shook her hair
across her face.

Neil's cock was now pleasantly hard. He reflected that Mary
Ann clearly found enjoyment in her breasts because her hands
rarely left them for long, as she danced she held them,
milking them, squeezing out towards the nipple.

She pulled up the top and looked down at herself. She seemed
to like what she saw, licking a finger of each hand and then
using that finger to stroke a nipple.

"She can make herself cum doing that to herself, five or six
times sometimes," the old man said to Neil. "Doing nothing
but feeling her titties."

He then spoke to the girl. "Mary Ann, take off your top. Let
the man see you properly."

She lifted it over her head, allowing her breasts to spring
free.

"You seen anything like that, boy? Come up close, Mary Ann,
let the man see you proper."

Gliding across the floor, she stood as close as she could to
Neil, wanting him to want her. Her tits were in his face, he
could reach out, he could touch them, and no one could stop
him. She was that close!

"Don't be shy, Mister," the old man was teasing him. "Mary
Ann, she isn't shy. Undo her shorts, I know she'll like it."

In a daze Neil reached forward and pushed the button through
the hole. There was a zip beneath it; he took hold of the
zipper and pulled it down. Fuck! She was wearing nothing
underneath. His fingers were touching her pussy!

"You not wearing your knickers, again," the old man scolded
her. "You know what I been telling you about that."

"But I love the roughness against my pussy, Gramps."

"Knickers is easier to wash," he grumbled. "You should be
wearing knickers."

"But it's me that does the washing!" Mary Ann yelled,
sliding her shorts down her long legs and stepping out of
them. "What should you care about it?"

Neil wasn't listening to their squabble: rather he was
staring in fascination at her revealed pussy. The hair was
sparse and he could clearly see the slit beneath.

As he stared, her hand came up and she slipped a finger
inside.

"Don't do that," the old man demanded. "Lie down of the
sofa, girl and spread your legs. The man would like to see
what a real woman looks like."

She sat where he directed, pulling her legs apart, and her
pussy lips gaped wide allowing them both to see her pink
treasures.

"Now Mr. City Man. What do you think about that?"

"She's very attractive," Neil acknowledged.

"Very attractive!" he mocked the words. "She's much more
than that! She's far too hot for you, lad. Let me tell you
the second task. I want you to lick her cunt until she cums.
Do you reckon a townie like you can handle that?"

Neil nodded, still hiding an air of smug self-confidence.
"Yes. I think I can do that."

"Till she cums, mind."

"I understand."

Mary Ann's breathing had accelerated already. She lay back
with anticipation of the pleasure to come.

"Now I don't want you to say I cheated," the old man said.
"So I let you choose. You can either do it to her first or
you can do it to her second."

Neil calmed himself and thought about it rationally. What if
there were some trick, some technique necessary to make her
cum that he didn't know about. It would be better to go
second so that he could watch the old man do it and then
copy him.

On the other hand, it might be harder to make her cum a
second time. But he didn't believe that could be too
difficult. She seemed a healthy young woman who was only too
eager for it.

"I'll go second," Neil said.

The old man smiled. Neil panicked. Had he made a mistake?

He watched carefully as the old man bent down and took hold
of Mary Ann's haunches and pulled her in. He kissed her
gently on her clit and she gasped in pleasure.

"Do it, Gramps," she cried. "Do it to me, please, Gramps."

Neil watched as the old man used his tongue to play with
her. It darted back and forth; flicking her clitoris as it
passed. Mary Ann groaned in pleasure, helping herself
towards climax by caressing her breasts. Neil remembered
what the old man had said; she could bring herself to climax
several times doing that alone. With the help she was also
receiving from below, what problem could there be in
completing the task?

Neil shifted himself to make his swollen cock more
comfortable within his underpants. Mary Ann was staring at
him and at that lump in his trousers; her eyes were glazed:
seeing but unfocused. She was close now; he could see it.
Her face was a picture of ecstasy, she held her breath
savoring each sensation that the old man's tongue induced.
Then she came, her body arching, rocking from side to side.

She was certainly an exhibitionist; even now she was gazing
at Neil, feeding off the arousal her climax brought him;
finding excitement in being exciting. Then as her orgasm
subsided, she collapsed back on to the sofa, recovering and
drawing deep breaths.

The old man rose to his feet. "Now it's your turn, boy."

Neil was now relishing the challenge. He knelt down and took
the other's place between Mary Ann's legs. He got his
clearest view yet of her cunt and the light brown hair that
grew there. She was certainly hot. He could see the moisture
of both her perspiration and her arousal and he could smell
her sweet aroma as he kissed her gently on her outer lips.

In response her legs wrapped themselves round his neck and
pulled him further in. He allowed his tongue to explore, to
hunt along both her outer and inner lips, tickling around
her clit, gauging when he had found the most sensitive
places by the involuntary squeezing of her legs.

"Oh, he's good Gramps," she cried. "Yes, do it, lick me,
lick me out."

Obediently Neil sucked, pushing her closer and closer to her
second orgasm.

He felt the throb of his own erection. Not long, he thought,
only one more task. Then we would be able to sink the agony
of his erection into the calming nectar of her cunt. It
tasted good to his mouth; it would taste even better to his
cock. She would be his to explore and own.

"I'm cumming, Gramps," she cried. "He's making me cum!"

Her body arched, her cunt was raised from the sofa once more
as she tensed, and her enveloping legs lifted him with her.
He continued to suck, to kiss, to flick at her clit and she
pushed herself and it even harder towards him, desperately
seeking a final release.

She groaned: her breathing fast and her torso twisting. This
was it, he had done it: she was cumming. He had no choice
but to ride the storm with her, his head carried by the
contortions of her constricting thighs.

Then suddenly she sank back; he could hear her rapid breaths
begin to slow, she had cum; the second task was completed.

The hold of her legs loosened and he disentangled himself
from her, sitting upon the floor only inches from her
dripping cunt.

He looked at the old man who was smiling his toothless grin.
"She's too hot for you, lad," he smirked.

Neil was angry. "Just get on with it. What's the third task?
I've got the measure of you."

"I don't think so." The old man crumpled his lined features
into a lopsided grin. "You better get out that wallet Mr.
City Man. Let me show you the third thing, bet you can't
copy this!"

He unfastened his trousers and lowered them. Neil watched in
morbid horror as he fished inside his underpants and pulled
out his cock. It was small and wrinkled and flaccid and the
old man bent it easily in two.

"Now you just do that," the old man smirked as Neil reached
for his wallet. "I told you she was too hot for you."

Mary Ann stared at the burning erection visibly apparent in
Neil's trousers and screamed in frustration. "I hate you
Grandpa. I just hate you!"






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