The Exchange Student
Meeting Hailey
I don’t know how I get myself into these situations, I start out with the best of intentions but they always turn on me in the end, and the exchange student fiasco was no exception to this rule.
Now, when I signed up to host an exchange student I was expecting a geeky teenage boy, or maybe an awkward chubby girl going through her awkward phase. Not… her.
Now don’t get me wrong, there is absolutely nothing actually wrong with her, in fact, I would say that her perfection is the problem. Hailey is… well, perfect. Unlike so many of the girls I see around town, gangly clumsy teens still growing into their bodies, Hailey might as well star in a documentary about the best case outcomes for puberty! Built like a pornstar, she had been blessed with full luscious breasts that, through some combination of youth and possible gravity-defying magic, managed to stay perky and full despite their size. So often with an ample bust, there tends to be a… certain amount of padding on the abdomen, not that this is a bad thing. Hailey, however, managed to maintain an absolutely tiny waist whose toned curves boasted not an ounce of fat, and she maintained it through daily exercise and a winning ticket in the genetic lottery. As if that was not enough, her sleek flat stomach gave way to wide hips and an ass that just screamed: “bite me”.
That she was lust incarnate was bad enough, I would have been safe with a beautiful girl, hell a goddess, if only she had been underage. After all, I signed up through a high school, and I expected to be getting a high school student! Someone preferably around the age of 16. Never in my darkest nightmares, but maybe in my fantasies, had I expected that they would send me her, a 19-year-old nympho.
In retrospect, I think her parents may have funded her term abroad so they could get her out of their hair and keep her from becoming a mother at an early age. Because god knows, she was a handful, and I mean that in more ways than one…
Hailey was and is still in fact, absolutely insane. Not the “eat your face and wear your skin” kind of crazy, I mean crazy in the most complimentary of ways. Most exchange students are studying abroad in order to, well, study. To be students and maybe learn about the local culture, but not Hailey. From the first night she was with us she was out on the town. It was not uncommon, as we came to find out, that she would be out all night and come home as the sun was starting to climb in the sky. Even worse was the time she brought home a guy, we put a stop to that after the first time it happened. While I had enjoyed listening to the sound of her pussy getting slammed by some stud through the paper thin walls that separated our bedrooms, her voice raised in ecstasy, my wife was less amused with the sound of our 16-year-old daughter’s bed pounding against the wall. I was just thankful at the time that she had been so distracted going to break up the fuck fest that she had not noticed I was stroking my cock under the blankets.
Now, of course, at the start I tried to be a good host, doing my very best to keep my eyes on her face, on the floor, or anywhere but on the wide expanse of flesh that she insisted on exposing every chance she had. Though, if we are being honest, I would likely show off my breasts if they looked as good as hers.
While I was trying to be a good host and a good husband I think that my efforts and politeness may actually have been the source of my downfall. In the long hours of the night, long after she had gone I gave a great deal of thought to how I had gotten to where I was, and I came to a conclusion. Hailey was used to it, she was used to being desired to being lusted after. Being around someone who should by all rights want to jump her bones and having them not spare a single glance at her body, well that must have been something of a foreign concept to her, maybe even a first. I could say that I wished that she had just taken the hint and left me alone, but she took it as a challenge, and the scent of her hair will haunt me until my dying breath…
Esculation
As is so often the case, things did not start out the way that they ended. When I started to become aware that she was escalating her behavior, trying to get a rise out of me (pun intended) it was little things. At first, it was behaviors like leaning over in front of me as often as she was able, frequently at times when it was not even necessary. Then she started to hang around me more, contriving reasons why we should be in the same room, such as needing an explanation of local customs when just earlier she had shown comfort with the same customs.
When her first round of tactics failed she continued her escalation, wearing ever more revealing clothing to the point that she might as well have left her body, her awe-inspiring body, bare for all the modesty her outfits afforded her. Of course with the change in wardrobe came the chances for exposure, and she would find every excuse to flash herself at me arranging for glimpses of her exposed anatomy.
Unfortunately for everyone involved, I was not the only one to notice this escalation of behavior. Although for reasons known only to her my wife said nothing I could tell that she knew what was going on. Her formerly sunny and cheerful personality turning cold and distant even to me, insult to injury when I was just trying to do the right thing.
Even then I might have been ok if my marriage had been sexually fulfilling, but the word “fulfilling” had not been applicable since our daughter was conceived, it seemed as though my wife had decided that with the birth of our daughter she had done her duty and no longer needed sex. Where before we were quite active (in many senses of the word) our sex life had dropped to just around holidays and stayed that way for the last 16 years.
Now I know this sounds like I am shifting the blame, but believe me I know that what happened was wrong, it’s just that when Hailey moved into our house for the summer it had already been a solid 6 months since the last time my wife had fucked me. We had gotten into something of a twice a year plan, once for Christmas and once for my birthday… not what most red blooded males would call an ideal arrangement.
In fact, far from being ideal, it was a contributing factor to my downfall. Those little glimpses or her “accidentally” rubbing up against me as we passed in the hall started to mess with my head, she started filling my dreams. While my wife would lay next to me snoring softly, I would lay next to her as silently as I could while stroking my cock. At first, I tried to focus on my wife, whose body I did, and still do, find incredibly appealing. But, slowly at first, my thoughts would drift from my loving wife. Bit by bit it would take over until thinking of the girl in the next room and trying to imagine what her tender young cunt would feel like wrapped around my cock. Over time the images got stronger and my resistance got weaker. In the beginning, I only pictured her nude, maybe just coming out of the shower her luscious curves dripping with water, but over time the fantasies got more complex. Without knowing how it got to that point I was stroking my cock every night thinking of her, my mind filled with images of her bare teenage flesh exposed to my touch, of her long graceful legs parting before me as she eagerly begged me to fuck her.
As you might imagine this pattern of escalation could not continue forever before long something had to give. Day by day my willpower dropped until when my end came, instead of fighting my fate I welcomed it with open arms.
The Incident
I still remember the day that I got more than just a glimpse, the chain of events that led to my downfall etched forever in crystal clarity in my mind’s eye. It was a Sunday morning, about halfway through her stay with us, and everyone in the house was out. Well, everyone except her and I.
I had wanted something to drink, I remember thinking there was a coke in the refrigerator, and so I had innocently walked into the kitchen, never expecting what was awaiting me. Clearly, Hailey had gotten tired of her more subtle efforts and decided a more direct approach was in order. She sat on the kitchen counter, waiting for me, but this time she took things further than they had gone before.
I walked in on her sitting on the counter, legs spread slightly with her knees apart. Her shirt was nowhere to be seen, her beautiful young breasts, as yet unbowed by time, sat proudly on her chest, one of her hands idly twisting and pulling on her nipple. The other was out of sight, thrust down the front of a pair of the tight little sweatpants she had been teasing me with for weeks. Although I could not see her errant digits the smell of sex filled the room.
I would like to say that I did the right thing, that seeing my young charge in a state of sexual activity I quickly turned and walked away. I would like to say that, but then I would not be telling this story. Instead, I froze, think deer in the headlights, I stood stock still staring at her as my brain shut down. At another time I might have yelled at her to cover up, but in my eroded state the sight of her stroking her cunt, playing with her perky young tits, sent my mind into overdrive.
She looked up, her eyes rising languidly, her gaze roving over my body before reaching my face, and made eye contact with me. It was then that the pieces came together for me at last, for though there was no mistaking the glaze of lust in her eyes, utterly lacking was so much as a hint of surprise or concern. No, there was no mistake, she was doing it on purpose. She wanted me to catch her.
“Oh… sorry Mr. G, how embarrassing. I thought everyone had left…” She said after a moment that seemed to stretch out forever.
Again, her words said one thing while her body said another. Even as she was professing to be embarrassed she never broke eye contact, nor did her hands stop their work, and a small smile quirked the corner of her lips.
It was almost a credible excuse. After all, my wife had made her plans to be gone for the day quite clear before leaving the house, and I was so often golfing on a Sunday morning, so it was plausible that she would be alone. Though, the question as to why she would be masturbating in the kitchen, even if she thought everyone was gone, made her excuse somewhat lacking. Still, as excuses went it was good enough that I could do little but mutter an apology and leave the room with a face red enough to be used as a stripe on the American flag.
It was after the kitchen incident that things really started to ramp up. After catching her she dropped any sense of subtlety that she had previously employed. It quickly reached a point where any time we were alone she would make a pass at me.
For example, there was the time she showered with the door wide open, knowing full well that I was just down the hall, or the time she dropped herself into my lap only pretended she had tripped (though she didn’t make much effort to get up either…). I should have said something, I should have put a stop to it… but I am weak… and god she is so hot…
My end may have started on the day she arrived, but I didn’t see the noose around my neck until around a month after catching her in the kitchen. I had been getting progressively weaker since then, and she had encouraged it, smelling my weakness no doubt. We had started playing, at first flirting and joking in what I hoped appeared as a mostly harmless way. But the joking stopped being a joke on another Sunday morning where, like the last, my wife had made it a point to tell us that she would be at the spa with her mother all day and we would have to “entertain yourselves”, a poor choice in words to be sure.
Now, I am many things, foolish, weak, lonely, but stupid is not one of them. I was expecting something, I might even have been looking forward to it if the truth be told. But what happened is not something I will forget, not even if I wanted to.
I was wandering around the house, looking for her. The house was a bit too quiet and I was getting antsy in silence. I suspected that something was up and I was done waiting for the other shoe to drop. I looked for her everywhere only to come up empty-handed, and just when I had given up and decided that she must have gone out without me noticing, I saw her.
With my search fruitless I had decided that the idea of a nap sounded inviting, but no sooner had I rounded the corner than the smell of sex washed over me. There she was in the one place I had not bothered to look, in my bed, and she was bare naked with nothing but a pair of socks to protect her modesty. Like the last time, her legs were splayed, her knees apart as she played with herself. But, unlike last time, there was no clothing to obstruct my view.
With slow, playful movements she stroked her index finger along the lips of her vulva, seductively playing with the smooth skin for a moment before her finger disappeared inside of her. She writhed and squirmed in the bed, her hips moving in little circles as she played. I wasn’t sure how long she had been here but the room swam in the scent of her lust.
“I am tired of playing.” She said firmly.
Unlike before there was no pretense of an accident, no question about what she was doing and what she wanted.
“What?” I asked with all the wit of a canned fish.
“I said, I am tired of playing. Since you put a stop to my having guys over I have been going crazy and I need to get fucked. Since you are the only guy in the house… Well, I suppose it has to be you.” She spoke with all the confidence of a beautiful woman who knows she is beautiful.
“Hailey, I… I’m married…” I stammered. The words rang hollowly in my ears and we both knew that my excuse was just that. Some part of my brain still clung to my vows and looked for any way to stop what was about to happen. But it was fighting a losing war.
“So? That didn’t stop you from watching me shower, or telling your wife about catching me in the kitchen.” She said smugly.
“I don’t know what you…” I started to say. I was struggling for an excuse, any excuse, but the sight of her, of her bare, fresh, young body so eager, so willing, as though it was just waiting to be used… Well, it was enough to make any man weak, and I had already been lost.
“Shut up and fuck me… please?” she said. Her voice broke slightly at the end, the hint of a plea adding a hitch to her tone that no one could have resisted.
I never had a chance, not from the second I walked in on her, but this was the final straw.
Throwing caution to the wind I all but pounced on her as the last walls of my resistance crumbled. I mounted her, throwing her down on the bed as my middle-aged bulk pinned her to the mattress beneath me.
“God yes! Fucking take me!” She moaned, her voice dripping with desire.
She writhed in my arms, the silky touch of her skin caressing me as she expertly positioned herself to press the softest parts of her anatomy against mine. My body reacted to her touch, the years falling away as I found a potency I had not known in years.
Several deft movements on her part were enough to free my cock, something for which I was grateful as it had been rapidly becoming uncomfortably confined as our bodies mingled.
Some rational part of my mind screamed to stop what I was doing, but by now I was acting on primitive instinct, and the desire to mate could not be ignored. Acting with a mind of its own my cock thrust into her, instinctively finding the wet space between her legs and penetrating deep inside her at last.
“You are so fucking wet! You feel so good!” I moaned into her ear.
An inarticulate sound of desire was all the response I got as her teenaged cunt and my foolish member connected, destroying the sanctity of my marriage in a single thrust.
Acting with a skill belying her young age she clung to me, her body opening before me. I hissed in sudden pain as her nails sunk into my back, her arms pulling our bodies together.
More than the feeling of her cunt, more than her youth, more even than her body, it was her enthusiasm that drove me to insanity. Where I had for so long been used to an indifferent or uninterested partner, now there was one who was not only interested but wild with desire.
Again I hissed in pain as her nails bit into the flesh of my ass, her hands desperately pulling me into her, begging without words to fill her, to use her. Our mouths battled, each struggling against the other as I thrust into her time after time. She melted into my arms, her ample breasts pressing against my chest as I clutched her lithe form tight.
I would like to paint a picture of a tender and passionate scene, of two people in love, joining together to make something beautiful. I would like to say that, but I cannot, not without lying. There was nothing romantic about our session, it was animalistic, it was crude, and god it was satisfying. Urges that had been so long ignored or repressed were allowed to come to the front in a way that had been sorely needed. With her blessing and encouragement, I thrust into her with unrepentant fury, pounding into her with a cock old enough to belong to her father’s.
“Yes! Keep going! I am so close! I am going to cum!” She moaned.
She squirmed and twisted, voicing her enthusiastic appreciation for our coupling, until I thrust my hand over her mouth, silencing her. A dark part of my psyche that I had not been aware of awoke in that moment as I held her down, the urge to dominate becoming overwhelming.
In that moment she was mine. Mine to use or abuse as I saw fit, and I did. I may be old but I am strong. I pinned her to the bed, pulling her arms above her head and exposing her body. She fought against me, pulling and wriggling against my grip, but she was helpless. But instead of panic or fear her helplessness seemed but to fan the flames of her lust, driving her into a frenzy of desire. Her muffled cries informed me of her climax but lost in the moment I could not have cared less.
Again I would like to paint a picture that puts me in a good light, to talk about soft touches and gentle caresses. I want to say that we spent the day tangled in each other’s arms as we moved from position to position, hours spent in lovemaking. But again, I would be lying.
If we lasted more than 15 minutes I would be shocked. She screamed into my ear that she was cumming, her again nails biting deep into my back. My own climax quickly approaching I tried to free myself from inside of her, only for her legs to lock around my waist, trapping my cock inside her unprotected cunt. It was more than I could bear.
I managed one more thrust, maybe two, before I unloaded within her. I groaned as spurt after spurt of hot cum pumped into her, coating her pussy until it ran out from between her legs. I expected screaming, I expected anger, I expected her to be livid and to curse at me as my wife so often had when I forgot to pull out. But what I got was encouragement, she urged me on, begged and pleaded for me to pump her full of cum, and I was happy to do so.
After what seemed like an eternity I collapsed onto the bed beside her, our bodies both covered in a sheen of sweat as we struggled to bring our breathing back to normal. As we lay together in the aftermath of our coupling the seriousness of what I had just done hit me full force. I was utterly undone, convinced that life as I knew it was about to end. After all, this little vixen could destroy my everything, undo my marriage with nothing but a word.
After a time she got up and left, leaving me with nothing but a pool of cum where she had been and the view of her perfectly formed ass as she left the room without saying another word.
I showered, trying to let the hot water wash away the guilt and the fear that was eating me up. Trying to convince myself that what had just happened was in my head. But when I was finished cleaning the smell of our union off of my middle-aged body reality was just as I had left it…
Conclusion
The rest of the summer and Haileys time with us passed in a blur. The damage I had expected to come from our coupling never manifested, and aside from some shared looks across the dinner table no words were ever again spoken about what had happened between us.
Hailey left at the end of her term, thanking us profusely for giving her a place to stay and being so very kind to her during her visit. My wife seemed glad that she was gone and life slowly returned back to the way it had been, until you might never have known that she had come into our lives at all.
About a year passed and a letter came. My wife told me that Hailey had written us a letter, it was mostly thanking us again for the positive impact we had on her life and talking about some of the things she had done since returning home. But in the letter was a single picture. A picture of a beautiful young woman with a baby in her arms, a baby that had my eyes…