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Reply-To: ossified@REMOVETHIShushmail.com
From: <ossified@hushmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Youthful Enterprise 02 {Ossified} (Mf anal)
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Date: Tue, 31 Aug 2004 17:10:02 -0400
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This story is copyrighted and may not be reproduced in any form for 
profit, but may otherwise be distributed freely. If you do, you must 
leave it intact. If you post it somewhere, I want to know. Thanks!

This is an erotic story. It includes explicit descriptions of sexual 
acts. None of the things described in this story actually happened (big 
surprise). If it's illegal for you to read stuff like this, then you 
shouldn't.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

YOUTHFUL ENTERPRISE - Chapters 3 and 4 (Mf anal)

Written by Ossified

Comments welcome to ossified AT hushmail DOT com





Chapter 3



Mr. Crane asked me to bring lollipops, but I forget and have to buy 
some when I arrive at his street. Thank God I didn't forget the stuff he 
wants me to wear, since it's a long bus ride back to get it. It's already 
six o'clock, and if I'd had to go back I wouldn't be done with Mr. 
Crane's double booking before bedtime. Already did my homework, 
which amazed mum.

The guys who book me are just so particular about what I wear - it's 
like every detail has to be correct. I'm wearing my regular clothes now 
though. I'm not taking the bus wearing kinky stuff anymore. Instead, 
I'm in these tight, low-cut jeans which show off my bum and a black 
top which makes the most of my slim waist, white bra-straps showing 
on tan shoulders. I look dead hot, but not in the way these old perverts 
like since they have all these weird, kinky hang-ups.

I got some looks on the bus, and this okay-looking boy cops a feel 
while I'm in line to pay for the lollipops. It's like: 'OH MY GOD! Did 
he really touch me there?', and I can't believe his nerve. I'm in too 
good a mood to slap him though, and instead I think about how 
touching me has made his day, and that he'll probably wank off 
thinking about me later. I vaguely wonder how many guys have done 
that. You know: guys from school wacking off at night, picturing me 
when they cum. Must be a few, right? Some of the teachers too, I bet. 
Certainly Mr. Lambson, but then that's a given. Kind of a nice thought 
really.

Anyway, Mr. Crane lets me in and the prat has bought me flowers. It's 
like he thinks he has to woo me or something, and I hardly manage the 
effort it takes to mutter "thanks". Then he shows me to a spare 
bedroom where I can change, and although he's paying to shag me, he 
still thinks it's necessary to leave while I change.

I wriggle into this pair of blue, incredibly tight aerobics shorts which 
he's asked for, and a matching top which is really tight too. As I pull 
on the white ankle socks and tie up my sneakers, I notice that this gear 
is actually comfortable in a firm-fitting sort of way. The shorts are 
really low cut and cute, and they're not the trashy kind which expose 
your bum cheeks either. My hipbones show and my belly looks 
amazing. It's, like, totally smooth and flat, and there's still some colour 
left from this summer's tan. My legs look a bit like skinny twigs, but 
they seem to go on for ever which is nice. I decide I really like these 
shorts.

My hair is already in a ponytail, so I just adjust it to look neater. A 
quick look in the mirror to check on the sparkly eye-shadow and then I 
pop a lollipop in my mouth and present myself to Mr. Crane.

I pose in the doorway, feet together and my hands behind my back. I 
look down in fake modesty as he gasps at my body and it feels good to 
make him do that. I can see that he's almost choking, so I suck on the 
lollipop while he composes himself.

"So, do I look okay?" I ask, twirling so he can check out my bum. It 
looks absolutely fantastic in these shorts. Cute, round and really 
bouncy. Okay, so I admit it's a bit small, but then I can't stand how 
some girls let their arses grow to immense proportions. It's a disgrace.

Anyway, poor Mr. Crane croaks "lovely, so lovely," and then he 
carefully takes me by the hand.

This wanker actually has a library in his house, which seems 
unbelievably pretentious even though he's a professor or something. 
Anyway, this is where he takes me, and the air is all dusty and it's kind 
of dark since he's closed the curtains. Then he kisses me on the cheek 
and sits me down and asks if I want a drink. I'm tempted to ask for a 
glass of wine, but I know this sits badly with the 'innocent little girl' 
thing so I don't. Instead I ask for a Coke, but of course the prat doesn't 
have any. He brings me milk instead which almost makes me laugh.

Since he asked for sportswear, I'm guessing he wants me to do 
gymnastics while he checks out my body. I've actually been looking 
forward to that, since I'm really good at it. He doesn't ask me to 
though. Just sits and stares at me like he can't believe his eyes. I don't 
think he gets to see many teen girls up close 'cause he's hanging on to 
my every move like I'm some kind of film star or something. When I 
hook stray strands of hair behind my ear he kind of croaks, and I can't 
help experimenting with this, scratching a calf, lazily stoking my 
forearm and twitching my nose just to gauge his reaction. It's funny 
since he sighs and looks dreamy with every silly little thing I do.

Although the attention is pretty cool for a while, it gets kind of boring 
since he says almost nothing. I look at the glass of milk and wonder if 
maybe the perv has some kind of weird milk-drinking fetish or 
something. Wouldn't surprise me. Since he might tip me extra I'm not 
taking any chances. I take out the lollipop and gulp down the milk, but 
it doesn't seem to do anything for him. Maybe I did it wrong. Anyway, 
I'm bored since he doesn't seem to want to talk, so I get up and look at 
his books.

He's gawking at me as I study all these serious looking volumes in his 
bookshelf. I can't understand half of the titles, and after ten minutes of 
this I still have no idea what he teaches.

As I'm standing there I hear him get up and walk over, but since he 
seems to prefer I ignore him I keep looking at the books. He comes 
from behind and presses up against me, and I feel his cock against my 
bum. I get this feeling he's a vulture hovering over me, and then he 
starts stroking my tits and moving his hips against my ass, grinding his 
cock into me. I stifle a yawn and slurp loudly on the lollipop, sighing 
like I'm really enjoying this.

His hands are roaming all over my body, stroking my breasts and my 
tummy before moving between my legs. He groans as he feels me up, 
and he's whispering "Oh, God. No panties...", which I would have 
thought was pretty obvious wearing shorts like these. I lean back at 
him, letting him get his moneys worth, and he's muttering "so 
beautiful, so perfect..." while he smells my hair. The only thing I can 
smell is the sickly sweet lollipop which isn't tasting quite so good 
anymore.

Although the sportswear is so tight I can feel his every touch, it's not 
really doing anything for me. It's definitely doing something for Mr. 
Crane though, and he's humping my ass while he strokes my tummy 
and feels my twat.

Mr. Crane is really getting into it, spending ages exploring my body 
like it's some work of art or something. He rubs his face on my hair 
and neck, and he's sniffing me even though I'm not wearing any 
perfume. He keeps saying I smell 'fresh', but I don't really get what he 
means by this. All I use is regular soap and my mum STILL buys me 
'no-tears' kiddie shampoo, which is actually pretty embarrassing.

Anyway, his fingers touch me all over, and he spends a lot of time 
following the seam in the crotch of my shorts up and down. He's 
obviously enjoying the feeling of my cunt beneath the shorts, but I 
don't get why he doesn't just pull them down and do me already. After, 
like, fifteen minutes of this his movements become erratic, and he 
speaks for the first time in ages:

"Oh God, Sarah. I have to fuck you. Now! Quick, take your shorts off. 
Hurry," he gasps, and I think FINALLY.

I fumble with the zipper which is on the side, and the shorts are really 
tight so it's not easy to get them off quickly. I'm starting to peel them 
off, but his hands are all over me and get in the way.

The shorts are half way over my ass when he shoves his hand down 
my bumcrack, but it's a tight fit beneath the shorts so he can't poke me 
even though a finger brushes my back hole. Anyway, he's too excited 
from fondling me, and it's already too late. Unbelievably, the prat 
cums in his shorts just from feeling me up.

"Jesus Christ! Sarah! You're so lovely. So beautiful. I'm... I'm... Oh 
no... I'm cumming. I'm cumming in my pants."

Mr. Crane holds me really tight, his hand down my shorts squeezing 
my bum cheek hard while he spasms helplessly. I know this must be 
totally frustrating for him since he wanted to shag me, so I grind my 
bum against him while he groans and sprays his shorts. He's jerking 
hard against me while he cums, but then he settles down, and he's 
hanging over me, burying his face in my neck and breathing heavy.

Although this was not what Mr. Crane wanted, I'm thinking how cool 
it is that I'm so hot I can make him loose it just by touching me. Then I 
get the unsettling feeling that he might not pay me since he didn't get 
his dick in me.

I'm not going to let that happen, so I turn and get down on my knees in 
front of him. I look up at him, making my eyes as wide and innocent 
looking as I can. I suck really hard on the lollipop before tossing it, 
and smile up to him with candy-red lips. Then I unzip him and pull 
down his trousers.

"Did I really make you do that, Mr. Crane? Can't believe you think I'm 
that pretty. I mean, I'm just a little girl and you're so big and smart 
and..."

This sounds so unbelievably phoney to me, but he's loving it, staring 
down at me like I'm this little pixie ready to do his bidding. Which I 
suppose I am right now.

"Wow, you really, um... came a lot, Mr. Crane. That means you like 
me, right? That you think I'm cute?"

All he does is mutter "So perfect... such a pretty little girl."

His shorts are drenched and it looks really yucky with all that cum 
everywhere. Even though I've had sex, like, a zillion times by now, I 
still think it's gross how guys shoot loads of stuff everywhere. It's just 
so messy. I know it's important to guys that they think I love it, so I 
don't say anything or even wrinkle my nose like I want to.

When I pull down Mr. Crane's boxers, his half-hard cock is oozing and 
a long string of yucky goo is hanging from the tip. There's cum on his 
balls and in his pubic hair too, and I think of the money he's going to 
pay me as I start lapping it up. He shoves his dick against me, 
smearing my face with his cum, and when I'm done licking the stuff 
off his balls I open my mouth and carefully suck on his dick to clean it. 
I'm careful to make slurping sounds since I know most guys like this. I 
smack my lips and make a show of swallowing, but I try not to seem 
too comfortable doing this. It's, like, REALLY important to get the 
whore/Madonna balance right for these older guys.



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



While Mr. Crane is composing himself and getting ready for his 
second helping of little schoolgirl, the idiot recites poetry to me. I 
mean, that's just so-o-o lame. He's prattling on about spring and 
scented meadows, and I totally don't get it which is probably because 
I'm not a hundred years old like Mr. Crane. I don't really listen even 
though he's getting all emotional with these endless, wet poems. 
Instead, I prance around in my tight little aerobics gear, really showing 
off my body, trying not to yawn. I peek at the clock, but the time 
seems to stand still and Mr. Crane has booked me long enough to do 
me twice so I can't leave although I desperately want to. Can't 
remember being this bored. EVER.

Finally Mr. Crane regains his strength, and his reading gets all 
unfocused since he's looking at me more than the book. I do some 
handstands, cartwheels and splits for him, feeling really energetic after 
all this waiting around. I throw my hands in the air and sway my back 
after every move, and generally act like it's the Olympics. When I 
bend over and place my palms flat on the floor so he can enjoy my 
bum, Mr. Crane gets up and puts on this classical record. I know this is 
my cue for a change of clothes.


He wants this ballerina thing - I think it's called a tutu or something - 
and it's so incredibly delicate and cute and snowy white that I feel like 
I'm ten years old when I put it on. There's a classical skirt which is 
kind of stiff and sticks out giving a clear view of my crotch, and I 
really think this outfit is too silly for words. The bodice has corded 
edges and little pearls on it which I wish were real, and Mr. Crane is 
going to pass out when he sees me in this. I try to do up the ballet 
shoes, but it's just impossible and looks way too ridiculous, so in the 
end I just go with the ankle socks.

I need to warn Mr. Crane not to cum on this ballet tutu thing, since 
there's no way I can clean it myself and I really can't show up at the 
dry cleaners with sperm all over something like this. I mean, it's okay 
if he gets a bit on it since I can fix that with some soap and water, but 
if he shoots off all over it, it's ruined. He's not going to be happy, but if 
he wants me in this stupid outfit more than once, he's going to have to 
cum elsewhere.

When Mr. Crane sees me he moans how I look totally horny, and I can 
see his hands are shaking. I tell him not to cum on the ballerina 
costume, and he agrees to this even though you can see he's 
disappointed. I can actually see why, since it's all crisp and white and 
girly, and it's probably a big turn-on to mess it up.

I try to dance to the music he's playing, but it's not like I can actually 
do ballet and I don't get the music which has no beat whatsoever. In 
the end I just do some more gymnastics with a few pirouettes thrown 
in, and I feel utterly ridiculous, but Mr. Crane is lapping it up.

Mr. Crane takes off his trousers and boxers, but thankfully he leaves 
his shirt on. He's really lean, which is better than chubby, but it's in the 
way older men are lean so it's not so hot either. Anyway, his cock is 
kind of large and he's sitting in his chair, wanking at the sight of me in 
this ballet tutu.

I see how I must look sexy in a wind-up-doll sort of way, since the 
skirt gives him a good view of my privates. The tutu is really snug, 
giving me what those unbelievably crass boys at school call a 'camel 
toe'. Ewgh! Sounds totally repulsive, right? Wore these really tight 
shorts to gym class once, and never heard the end of it.

Anyway, my hair tickles my nose when I pirouette and I'm beginning 
to feel self-conscious with my helpless dance routine. Still, Mr. 
Crane's dick is getting really, really hard so I guess I'm doing okay. I'm 
kind of scared that he'll get too excited from this silly ballet fetish 
thing he has, so I decide I need to do something if I want to get paid.

I sit myself between his spread legs, and the ballet skirt makes this 
loud rustling sound as I bend forward to trace my fingers down his 
dick. Not surprisingly, he removes his hand so I can take care of him. I 
stare at his cock like it's the prettiest thing I've seen in my entire life, 
while putting on my best scared-but-intrigued look.

"Oooh, Mr. Crane. I think your thingy really, really liked my dance. 
It's just so-o-o big and hard, isn't it? Would you like to put it inside 
me? In my twat, I mean? I bet it'll feel ever so nice. And then you 
could, um... you know..., fuck me? And maybe cum too. Would you 
like that?"

Mr. Crane is gasping and I hold on to his dick really hard, but I don't 
wank him since the pervert is too excited and he might cum in my 
face.

"You know, there's all this sticky stuff on the tip here, so I think you 
should put it in my twat and see if you like it. I'm ever so tight you 
know, and I'll make you cum. Promise."

Mr. Crane seems to think I'm right about this, and after he gets up, he 
lifts me up in his arms. He's carrying me over to his desk, his cock 
pressing against me. I feel like I weigh nothing when he carries me, 
and I squirm in his arms and squeal this little-girl squeal I've practiced 
which guys really love.

Mr. Crane dumps me on my back on the top of his desk, and the skirt 
makes the rustling sound again as it crumbles beneath me. He's kissing 
my face and neck, and although his breath smells of alcohol it's not as 
bad as it could be. Then he's kissing and lapping at the crotch of my 
tutu before pulling it aside and nuzzling my cunt.

Since I felt really sexy in the sportswear, and also in the ballerina 
outfit now, I'm quite wet, and when he starts licking me it feels good. 
He's really lapping at me, and I can hear him smacking his lips and 
tasting me. It kind of turns me on that he enjoys it so much.

"Your cunt is so lovely Sarah. So tight and clean and fresh."

I rub my slit and suck on my finger and I taste gooey but also pretty 
good, almost sweet.

"Why thank you Mr. Crane. I wanted to shave it for you, but there's 
just this little fuzz here so it wasn't really necessary. Do you really 
think it's pretty?"

"It's beautiful Sarah. Just beautiful."

I giggle like a stupid little girl for his benefit, but when he lifts my legs 
high and wriggles his tongue up my bum, the squeal I give is real.

Then he's finished licking me, which is a bit sad since it feels really 
good. Instead he grabs hold of his dick and wets the tip between my 
cunt lips. Then he's entering me, and since I'm really, really tight he 
does this carefully. When he's all the way inside me he grunts, kind of 
like a pig. His cock is spasming in my twat, and although he's a 
disgusting, dirty old man it also feels wonderful. I stare up at the 
ceiling as he fucks me, trying to imagine it's some boy I like. He goes 
slow at first, but then he picks up speed and he's shoving me around on 
his desk with his fucking. I feel myself getting wetter and wetter.

The whole room reeks of warm, musky sex smells and I'm 
concentrating on this cute boy in school while Mr. Crane fucks me. 
Since he's really good I can feel myself getting close. Although the 
stupid ballet skirt gets in the way, I manage to find my clit with my 
fingers and he's staring down at my slick twat as I rub my clit while he 
fucks me.

I shut my eyes hard and sparks go off in my head when I cum. A warm 
rush hits my body and I tremble and can't help moaning although I 
don't want to. My twat is squeezing Mr. Crane's cock really hard, but 
he actually has more staying power than I thought since he doesn't 
cum from this. I think he's really close though, 'cause he pulls out 
before I'm even fully down from my cum.

Mr. Crane flips me over and I'm leaning over his desk with my bum 
sticking up. I sway my back and push my arse in the air,  and I bet I 
look totally fuckable. With a groan he enters me again, and he's 
holding on to my hips, fucking me really hard. He's slamming me into 
the desk, and it's hurting my thighs even though the ballet skirt 
cushions the blow a bit. Anyway, he's really worked up and horny, so I 
just grit my teeth and take it. When I look back over my shoulder I 
can't see much of what's going on, since the ballerina skirt sticks up 
like this white, frilly wall. I can see Mr. Crane's face though, and he's 
not going to last much longer.

"Um, Mr. Crane? You can't cum on this outfit, remember. And not 
inside me either. I'm not on the pill or anything, so if you squirt your 
cum inside me I might have a baby. That would make my daddy very 
cross, so you really need to pull out and cum on my face or 
something."

The 'don't cum inside me' thing is, of course, total bullshit. I've been on 
the pill long enough to be safe now, but I also know that's not what 
these old pervs want to hear. Even though they pay to do me, they still 
want me to be, like, a virgin or something, so having to pull out is a 
major thing with these guys.

Mr. Crane wets his finger in my cunt, and then he moves it to my 
bumhole. I'm not expecting this right now, so I automatically clench, 
but he shoves his finger up my arse anyway. He doesn't push his finger 
too far, and it feels quite nice since it's not as huge as Mr. Lambson's 
dick which kind of hurt. He's moving his finger in and out of my bum 
in rhythm with his fucking, and I enjoy the feeling more than I would 
have thought. More importantly, Mr. Crane seems to think it's 
awesome since he's moving really fast now. I figure he's just seconds 
away from letting go.

"Please Mr. Crane? You're not getting too excited are you? You will 
pull out, right? I'm just a little girl you know, and you really can't 
shoot all that sticky cum in my twat. You just can't. Please?"

I must have said these lame lines to, like, ten different perverts this 
month, but they still work and Mr. Crane groans loudly when he hears 
me plead. Then he takes his finger out and starts slapping my bum 
really hard. When I see his face I don't like the look in his eyes. He 
looks angry and his face is all screwed up, and I'm thinking I may have 
pushed too many of this pervert's buttons at once.

Mr. Crane is scaring me and the spanking is starting to hurt. He's 
calling me these awful things, like 'stuck-up teenie bitch' and 'snotty 
little cum-slut'. He's talking very fast and telling me stuff which boils 
down me being a conceited moron which is, like, TOTALLY unfair 
and rude. Then he's groaning 'little schoolgirl whore' over and over as 
his dick jerks inside me, ready to cum.

Now, I've told him not to cum inside me, which doesn't really matter 
much, but I've also told him not to mess up the ballet tutu, and the prat 
manages to do both. Unbelievable!

He's muttering 'Made you cum, didn't I? Made you cum,' and it totally 
sucks that he's right about this. Then he slams into my cunt and I feel 
his cock jerking and he's cumming, shooting all this warm, yucky goo 
up my twat.

I'm such an awesome professional that I follow up on this, and I squeal 
when he cums in me like it's a big deal and I might get pregnant.

"Nooo! Mr. Crane! You're cumming inside me. Oh God, you're not 
supposed to do that. Pleeeaaase! Take it out. Quick."

Mr. Crane yanks out his dick, and he's squirting his cum all over my 
bum. Although I can't see it, I still feel his cum landing on my ass, and 
when I look over my shoulder I see Mr. Crane wanking off and 
shooting all this cum up the bodice and really messing up the skirt as 
well. My arsehole is exposed, and he rubs his dick against it while he 
squirts his final drops.

When he's finished he just stands there, red in the face and panting, 
and the wet dick in his hand is softening and doesn't look so big 
anymore. I reach over the silly, strutting skirt towards my arse, and my 
forearm gets all sticky with cum when I do this. The skirt, which used 
to be really starchy and white and pristine is now drenched in all this 
yucky goo. When I feel my arse my hand gets sticky too, and my bum 
cheeks are really warm and sore from the prat's spanking.

"Eeewww, Mr. Crane. I told you not to do that. Now you've cum all 
over my tutu and skirt and everything. How am I supposed to clean 
this up? You're SO gross."

Although I'm, like, totally annoyed that he's messed up this outfit, I 
remember that I'm supposed to be freaked out that he came in my twat 
so I scold him for that too. I can't seem to manage any tears though, 
which is a shame since he'd probably pay me more if I cried.

Mr. Crane's anger seems to have disappeared, and he's looking down 
like a naughty little boy as I scold him. I'm really pissed off that he 
called me all those nasty things, and for messing up my outfit too. I 
march off to change, totally ignoring him.

He follows me around the house and blabbers apologies, but even 
though he sounds genuinely sorry I still think Mr. Crane has some 
serious issues with young girls. He tells me that he just got carried 
away and that I'm fantastic and beautiful and everything. I don't really 
soften though, since I hate getting spanked; it just reminds me too 
much of my dad. And I'm NOT a conceited moron either. Can't believe 
he said stuff like that to me.

He pays me two hundred pounds which is way more than we agreed 
on, but I'm still annoyed with him and I don't talk at all on my way out. 
I'm not sure I'll come back here again. I might even scare him with a 
fake pregnancy and make him pay for the 'abortion'. Serves him right.

When I get home, my mum thinks I've been to gymnastics lessons 
which explains the bag I'm carrying nicely. She's not cross that I've 
been out late. Instead she's really pleased that I'm an active girl. I 
almost laugh since I can feel Mr. Crane's sperm dribble into my 
knickers as she speaks.

I'm really knackered and I need some rest before school tomorrow, so I 
don't bother to shower and fall asleep really fast. I don't dream.





Chapter 4




Mr. Aitken hasn't asked me to wear anything special, and it's a relief 
since he might not be a big fat pervert like Mr. Crane. Ballet tutu! I 
mean, *really*! How do guys come up with this stuff? It's, like, so-o-
o tacky.

When Mr. Aitken lets me in I see he's in his thirties and not bad 
looking at all. I'm guessing he works out since he's kind of fit, and 
I feel positive about this whole job. He takes me into the kitchen and 
gives me a cup of tea. It's a sweet and unexpected gesture, and makes 
me like him. Would have preferred a Coke though. Maybe a milkshake. 
Love those. Anyway, he sits me down and asks me which school I go to. 
Since he's acting like a normal person and not a dirty old man, I'm 
off guard and I actually tell him. He seems very pleased at this, 
which is kind of weird. I'm thinking he might stalk me or something.

Then he tells me that he doesn't live here - he's just house-sitting 
for his neighbours. He asks if I know this girl, Susan Gilmore, which 
I do. Then it hits me that I've actually been here before, in this 
house, when Susan had a huge birthday party years ago. She's the same 
age as me, goes to my school and everything. Pretty, if you like the 
thin, gangly type. We don't hang out, since she's actually a whiney 
little bitch. Never got over me stealing her boyfriend when we were, 
like, six or something, and she's been really mean ever since.

Anyway, it turns out that Mr. Aitken is, surprise, a pervert after 
all. He totally fancies Susan, and now that he has the run of her 
house he's booked me to, well..., be her I guess. He tells me he's 
been spying on her and taking pictures and things, and it amazes me 
that he has no idea how creepy I find this. It's like he thinks I want 
to know about it, and that I'll think it's cool or romantic or 
something. I REALLY don't. I think about calling this whole thing off, 
but then I don't like Susan much and it's a lot of money, so I stay.

So this Aitken guy takes me upstairs to Susan's room, and it sucks 
that her room is nicer than mine. She has this big four-poster,  her 
own TV, and she's tidier than me too. Of course, I immediately go to 
her dresser where I'm guessing her diary is, but I can't find it. Even 
though I'm dying to search more since she might have written about me, 
Mr. Creepy probably doesn't want to pay me for doing that so I just 
let it go. Instead I walk around her room slowly, playing with my 
ponytail and wriggling my bum, doing various poses designed to let Mr. 
Aitken have a good look at me.

When I turn to see the look on his face, he's actually not paying 
attention at all. Instead he's tracing his finger over Susan's 
furniture and fondling some of her dirty laundry. How rude can you be? 
Here I am, working hard and doing my best to turn him on, and he's 
more into this distinctly un-hip jumper which Susan has left on the 
chair.

I realize he's desperately horny for Susan, and I must say I find it 
pathetic. I mean, he's, like, twenty years older than her. I can see 
how he'd want to do her and everything, but fall in love? That's just 
not on. Personally, I don't see what the big deal is with Susan 
anyway. She's always complaining about everything, and she's not THAT 
pretty. If I could steal her boyfriend back then, how can she be 
better looking than I am? She's kind of stuck-up too, come to think of 
it.

"Wish I was as pretty as Susan," I go, and I'm not even fishing for 
compliments here since everyone at school knows I'm hotter than Susan 
fucking Gilmore. I mean, PLEASE! Can't believe the pervert likes HER.

I suppose I should be earning my pay soon, but I'm stumped since he's 
not paying much attention to me. Of course I have absolutely no idea 
how to act like Susan, but I figure Mr. Aitken doesn't really know her 
that well either so he won't notice.

I think us young girls all seem the same to these guys. Except the 
looks of course, which is ALL they notice. It's like they can't get 
past the tits and ass and see that some of us have these amazing, deep 
souls, and it's really annoying sometimes. It's like, 'Helllooo, 
there's an actual person her! With opinions and feelings and stuff'. 
They're like mum and dad really.

Oh well, I'm trying to figure out how to do the Susan bit, but Mr. 
Aitken has his own ideas about this. He's been to the hamper and now 
he's piled Susan's smelly old clothes in the corner. The prat is 
sniffing and stroking them, not paying ANY attention to me, and of 
course, he wants me to wear them. Yuck! He's sifting through bras and 
tops and knickers and skirts until he finds what he wants me to wear, 
and he's treating every piece of her dirty clothing like it's a museum 
exhibit which is, like, totally creepy and annoying.

Being a middle-of-the-road pervert, Mr. Aitken decides on Susan's 
school uniform. Yawn. The blouse is okay, the short-sleeved one and no 
tie since it's still summer. Even smells sweet from this really nice, 
flowery perfume Susan seems to wear. Skirt's a bit grubby though, and 
when I smell the kneesocks it's not nice at all. MY feet sure don't 
smell that much.

Actually, Susan's kneesocks smell like our hall does when my pesky 
little sister takes off her sneakers - a penetrating, full-bodied 
smell of feet with a pungent sting to it. My sister's favourite thing 
in the whole world is to place her feet in my lap and get a foot rub, 
but I only do this when I'm in a really good mood. Her feet are like a 
toxic waste dump or something. Although she takes off her crusty 
socks, it's still not something I do unless she's been really nice to 
me. Which is, like, never.

Mr. Aitken seems to like Susan's kneesocks though, since he presses 
them to his face and inhales deeply before giving them to me. Gross! 
When I roll them on he finally pays attention, since I do this in a 
really slow and sexy way.

I've left my knickers on, and they're these really nice, soft, pink 
ones which I love, but Mr. Aitken wants me to wear Susan's dirty old 
schoolgirl panties, which is just too much.

"Eeewww! You can't be serious! You want me to wear Susan's knickers? 
Is this, like, a joke?"

"You have to. It's important."

Yeah right! It's very, very important. The sky will fall if I don't 
put on Susan Gilmore's dirty underpants. Idiot!

I look at the white cotton in my hand, and either Susan wore them 
while snogging her dog-like boyfriend, or she has a crush on her 
teacher, 'cause she's been seriously aroused wearing these. From the 
heavy, musky smell I figure it's not that long ago either. I point 
this out to Mr. Pervert, but he doesn't react like I'd hoped.

"Please Mr. Aitken. They smell of her twat and everything. Look; 
they're even sticky. You don't actually want me to wear these, do you? 
Please?"

"Of course I do. Why do you think I've kept them in a zip-lock bag 
since yesterday? I want you to smell like her."

OH MY GOD. He's done WHAT? That's just gross. Keeping girl's knickers 
in a zip-lock bag! Can't believe the imagination these stuffy old gits 
have when it comes to preying on us girls. Why can't they put that 
energy into something useful instead of smelly underwear? Eeewww!

"Well, if you really want me to, I guess I could wear them. You know, 
if that will make you want to have sex and stuff."

Am I a professional or what? No wrinkling my nose, no more protesting 
- nothing. I just bend over and flip up the pleated skirt, showing him 
my twat from behind as I pull down my own lovely, fresh, pink knickers 
and put on Susan's creamed-out, yucky cotton ones. This is why I get 
paid like I do. Not many girls would do this.

To complete the picture he makes me wear this gold necklace from 
Susan's jewellery box, and it's totally inappropriate since it's a 
cross.

When I'm all dressed in Susan's school uniform, Mr. Aitken tells me to 
sit down at her desk and pretend to do homework. This sounds very dull 
to me and not like a hot fantasy at all, but I do as he says. I sit 
looking blindly at this book and I'm not even sure what it's about, 
but I'm chewing my pencil and doing all the schoolgirly stuff which 
guys want. I'm twitching my nose, brushing hair away, stroking my 
neck, playing with the necklace and generally doing what bored girls 
do when they study. What is it about this that turns guys on? 
Personally I think they're just morons.

Anyway, he doesn't talk to me or anything. He just sits there for a 
while, looking at me. Then he comes over and starts stroking my hair, 
kissing my neck and nibbling my ear. It's not so bad. Then he puts his 
hand down my blouse and underneath my bra, fondling my breasts really 
carefully. I lean my head back against his chest and purr, and he 
kisses the tip of my nose which just seems like a very sweet thing to 
do.

When Mr. Aitken is bored with this he asks me to go over to Susan's 
bed. I'm hardly there when he pounces at me, toppling me onto the bed. 
He's kissing and sniffing me, moaning 'Oh Susan' over and over, which 
pisses me off even though I know I'm supposed to pretend I'm her.

It's weird, but I can actually see why he made me wear her clothes. 
It's not like I can usually smell myself, but now I definitely notice 
I smell different. I start to notice all sorts of different scents 
that come from the stuff I'm wearing, and it feels really intimate and 
strange to be wearing someone else's clothes like this. It's kind of 
yucky that I smell like that bitch Susan Gilmore though. When I 
remember I'm wearing her dirty undies I shudder, but Mr. Aitken seems 
to think this is because I'm liking his attentions, and he groans.

He undresses, and his cock is sticking out. It's kind of large, but 
not scarily so, which is a good thing since he's going to do me up the 
arse later. Then he's back on the bed, and he's holding my feet to his 
face, fiddling with my toes and smelling my socks again. Well, Susan's 
socks really. The pervert really gets off on this, and he's actually 
wanking while doing it.

Then he kisses his way up my thighs, and I spread my legs for him, 
pulling up the grey pleated skirt so he can enjoy the knickers he so 
desperately wants me to wear. He gives this guttural moan and buries 
his face in my twat, really drinking in the smell of Susan's panties. 
Well, that's not all he's getting a whiff of. It's MY twat down there, 
you know. Fuck Susan!

Then Mr. Aitken flips me over onto my tummy and rubs his face all over 
my little panty-clad bum. He's shoving my panties into my bumcrack 
with his nose, and he's sort of stroking my arse with his cheeks too. 
He should have shaved better today, 'cause his stubble catches in the 
fabric. He's moaning into my ass, kissing my bumhole through the 
cotton. It's like I'm a rag doll, and he's just letting himself go, 
enjoying my body like I'm not here to judge him.

"Christ Susan, your arse is amazing."

Yes, well. It's not really Susan's arse, is it? It's MINE, and it's a 
damned sight better than Susan's, I can tell you that. I've seen her 
in the showers, and it just doesn't compare.

"Oh thank you Mr. Aitken. I'm really proud of it. Are you going to 
fuck it soon? I'm really looking forward to that. You promised you 
would, remember?"

I'm thinking this is way too silly, and he's going to tell me off for 
spoiling the mood. He doesn't though. He's just like all the other 
idiots. No matter how stupid the line, if you say what they want to 
hear, they get off on it.

Mr. Aitken grabs my hips and pulls me up on my hands and knees. He's 
sitting back and staring in awe at my bum, licking his lips like a 
hungry little boy in a sweet shop.

I reach behind, stroke my bum cheeks and play with the sticky gusset 
of Susan's panties. I even reach in through the leg band and rub myself a 
bit, since this outrageous setting is starting to turn me on just a 
teeny little bit. It feels good so I stop. NO WAY am I going to cum 
like this, on Susan's bed wearing her dirty knickers and everything.

Then I push the cotton panties back into my bumcrack and Mr. Aitken is 
all over me, kissing and smelling me again. He tugs at my knickers, 
pulling them down to my knees. Then he dives in, tonguing my twat, but 
he's not very good at it so it doesn't do much for me. Then he moves 
to my arse, and he's pressing the tip of his tongue inside, and this 
DEFINATELY does something for me. He's lapping at my bumhole, fucking 
it with the tip of his tongue, and this gets me going so I rub myself 
while he fucks my twat with his fingers.

Although I KNOW I'll be embarrassed thinking about this later, I go: 
"Ooohhh yes, Mr. Aitken. Lick my arse. Wriggle that tongue of yours up 
little Susan's bum," and I can't help moaning since it feels awesome 
when he does this.

He goes at it with renewed vigour when I mention Susan, and I'm really 
liking what he's doing. Then, of course, he stops. It's like these 
guys know when I'm enjoying something, and automatically stop doing 
it. Idiots.

Anyway, my bum is all loose and wet, so he thinks he can just slip his 
dick up my arse. Although he's not so big, it's not THAT easy, and I 
brace myself as he pushes against my tight little back hole. I manage 
to relax a bit, and he slips the head of his cock inside me. He has to 
pause again, but then I loosen up and he's all the way inside me, 
holding on to my hips really hard.

My arse feels, like, totally stuffed, and it's so tight he can hardly 
move at all. His dick is pulsing inside me, and it's so-o-o much nicer 
than when Mr. Lambson did my arse with his huge thing. Mr. Aitken 
starts to move, and when I get used to him he starts fucking my bum 
really hard. It's like, 'OH MY GOD. This is AMAZING' and he's pushing 
my face into Susan's pillows as he fucks my ass. He seems to like it 
too, 'cause he's moaning and groaning a lot.

What he's groaning is 'Oh God. Your bum is so tight,' and this is 
pretty much what Mr. Lambson said when he did my arse, so it must be 
true. Bet Susan's isn't half as nice.

I look over my shoulder and I see Mr. Aitken's hard, throbbing member 
stuck up my bum and it's sandwiched between my cheeks and it looks 
awesome. Totally horny. I start to rub myself, and Mr. Aitken must 
notice my fingers in my twat, since he groans and moans even more when 
I do this.

He stops fucking my bum for a minute while I tickle his balls. My 
fingers are really slick from fingering my sopping twat, and his balls 
are all tight and hard. Then his cock twitches urgently inside me, and 
I concentrate on getting myself off while he does the same.

I must be this shameless slut or something, because I really, really 
like the feeling of getting it up the arse and I cum before he does. 
Hard. It's like I'm stuck on this pole, and Mr. Aitken holds me up as 
I scream into Susan's pillow and gush all over my fingers.

This is too much for Mr. Aitken, and as my arse clamps rhythmically on 
his dick, he cums too. In my bum and everything. Just like that. 
Doesn't even ask if it's okay.

"Christ Susan. I can't help it. Your bum is just too tight. I'm... I'm 
cumming... I'm cumming up your tight little arse."

And this he does. A lot. It's like he's pouring all this hot, gooey 
cum up my rear end and he must have been saving it for weeks 'cause 
there's just so much of it. Although I've done this before, it still 
feels really weird having someone shoot off back there and I can't 
help grunting even though I hate it when I do that.

Finally he's spent and he falls away from my sweaty body, really 
exhausted. When his cock pops out of my bum, all this cum follows it 
and runs down my thighs, over my twat and everywhere. Can't see how 
Mr. Aitken is going to explain these stains on Susan' bedspread. It's 
on the skirt and kneesocks too, not to mention those yucky undies. 
Well, it's not my problem, thank God.

While I change he's talking to me like he still thinks I'm Susan, and 
it's REALLY starting to annoy me. Could Susan do what I just did? 
Don't THINK so. Prissy little bitch. Anyway, he's going on and on 
about how much he loves her, and if I liked Susan more I'd warn her 
about this prick.

When I leave he asks me if I can talk to Susan and find out if she'd 
be interested in him. Can you believe this prat? Susan may be kind of 
mean, but she's still a reasonably attractive young girl and Mr. 
Aitken is this hopeless loser. I tell him he should get a life and 
that there's NO WAY Susan would be interested in someone like him. 
He's not happy, but hey, I'm not all that happy either and he doesn't 
care about that, does he?

When I get home I still have Susan's necklace on, and Mr. Aitken is 
going to freak out when he can't find it. I try to throw a curse on
it with a witch spell I learn off the internet. It's kind of fun
but doesn't work, and Susan shows up at school without a single zit.
Totally annoying.


TO BE CONTINUED

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YOUTHFUL ENTERPRISE - Chapters 3 and 4 (Mf anal)
Written by Ossified
Comments welcome to ossified AT hushmail DOT com


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