My friends daughter

My buddy Mark and I have been neighbors for years, close enough that we'd grab beers on the porch and talk shop. He's a single dad, raising his daughter Emily alone since his wife passed. She's 15 now, in high school. She is a red head with superwhite skin. She has a condition that makes it impossible for her to tan. It is hell for her to be even outside in the evening sun. This makes her so white that she starkly stands out everywhere. Mark mentioned it once in passing, how it made dating hell for her, but she's sharp as a tack. I never thought much of it until that frantic knock on my door last Tuesday.

"Dave, man, I need a huge favor," Mark said, out of breath, suitcase in hand. His parents abroad had some health scare, and he had to fly out immediately. No time for arrangements. "Can Emily stay with you for the week? She's got her lotions, knows the routine. I'll be back Sunday." I nodded without hesitation how could I say no? Emily stood behind him, backpack slung over one shoulder, wearing baggy jeans and a hoodie that swallowed her. She gave a shy wave, her pigtails bobbing. "Sure thing," I said, clapping Mark on the back. He hugged her tight, whispered something, then rushed off to his cab.

First night was awkward. We ordered pizza, sat on the couch watching some dumb sitcom. Emily picked at her slice, legs tucked under her like a kid. "Thanks for this, Mr. Dave," she said softly, voice higher-pitched than you'd expect. Up close, her face was all innocence—big eyes, freckles, no makeup needed. But when she laughed, there was a spark, something adult peeking through. I kept it light, asking about school, her dreams. She lit up talking about dreams of studying art. As the credits rolled, she yawned. "Can I borrow some PJs? Mine are too big here."

I dug out an old t-shirt from my drawer, it draped over her like a dress, hitting mid-thigh. She climbed into the guest bed, looking even smaller under the covers. I said goodnight, but my mind raced. That forbidden curiosity stirred, the one I'd buried deep. She'd mentioned in passing how guys her age treated her like a freak. What if I showed her she was wanted? Just for the week. No harm.

Day two, I upped the ante. Made pancakes in the morning, let her help stir the batter. Her tiny hands brushed mine, and she blushed. "You're fun, Mr. Dave. Dad's always so strict." We spent the afternoon in the backyard, tossing a frisbee. She ran like a sprite, giggling when it sailed over her head. By evening, movie night again. I picked something with a bit of romance, dimmed the lights. She curled up next to me on the couch, head on my arm. "This is nice," she murmured. My hand rested on her shoulder, thumb tracing circles. She didn't pull away.

"Emily, you're beautiful, you know that?" I said, testing. She looked up, eyes wide. "Really? You don't think I look... weird?" I shook my head, pulled her closer. Her body was warm, feather-light against me. "Nah. You're perfect." I tilted her chin, leaned in slow. Her lips parted, soft and tentative. The kiss started innocent, then deepened as she melted into it, small tongue flicking mine. My cock twitched in my jeans. I broke it, gauging. "We shouldn't..." But she grabbed my shirt. "Please. I like it. No one's ever..." That was all I needed.

I carried her to my bedroom, she weighed nothing, legs dangling. Laid her on the bed, kissed her neck while peeling off that oversized t-shirt. Underneath, no bra, just small boobs with pink nipples hardening in the air. She shivered as I sucked one, tongue swirling the bud. "Oh... Mr. Dave..." Her hands fumbled with my belt. I helped, shoving pants down, cock springing out thick and hard. Her eyes went huge. "It's so big." I guided her tiny hand around it, showing her how to stroke, up and down, her grip loose but eager.

"Want to taste?" I asked, voice rough. She nodded, sliding down. On her knees between my legs, pigtails framing her face, she licked the tip hesitantly. Precum beaded, and she lapped it up, then took the head in her mouth. So warm, so tight. Her lips stretched around me as she bobbed, gagging a little when I hit the back of her throat. I tangled fingers in her hair, guiding gently. "Good girl, just like that." She hummed, sucking harder, saliva dripping down her chin. I couldn't hold back. I pulled out and came on her tongue, watching her swallow with a surprised gulp.

That broke the dam. Night three, she snuck into my room after midnight, wearing just panties. "I can't sleep. Thinking about you." I yanked her onto the bed, stripped her bare. Her pussy was smooth, bald, lips puffy and wet. I spread her thighs, dove in, tongue lashing her clit, fingers probing her entrance. She was virgin-tight, but soaked, bucking against my face. "Yes! Lick me!" she cried, voice breaking. I fingered her shallow, curling to hit that spot, until she came shaking, juices flooding my mouth.

Then I flipped her onto all fours, ass up so small, cheeks barely parting. Rubbed my cock along her slit, teasing. "You want this inside?"

She nodded. I pushed in slow, her pussy clenching like a fist. Inch by inch, stretching her walls, until I bottomed out. She whimpered, but pushed back. I gripped her hips— hands overlapping— and thrust steady. The slap of skin echoed, her tiny body jolting with each pump.

"Harder! Your cock feels so good!" I railed her, balls smacking her clit, until she screamed through another orgasm. I pulled out, shot ropes across her back, marking her.

By day four, she was insatiable. Woke me with her mouth on my morning wood, slurping greedily before I even opened my eyes. We fucked in the kitchen— her perched on the counter, legs wrapped as best they could, me pounding up into her while she bit my shoulder to muffle moans. Afternoon shower? I soaped her up, fingers in her ass while I fucked her pussy from behind, water cascading over us. She came twice, begging for my cum down her throat.

Evenings blurred into roleplay. She'd dress in a short plaid skirt, white blouse unbuttoned low. "Be my teacher, Mr. Dave," she'd say, bending over the table. I'd spank her lightly, then bury my face between her legs, eating her out until she quivered. Then bend her over, cock slamming deep, her cries filling the house. "I'm addicted to this," she confessed one night, riding me reverse— her ass grinding down, taking me balls-deep despite her size. She bounced as much as her frame allowed, pussy milking me until I filled her up, cum leaking out around my shaft.

Day six, we went all out. Tied her wrists with a scarf, blindfolded her. Teased her with feathers, ice, my tongue everywhere— nipples, ears, inner thighs. When she begged, I fucked her mouth first, face-fucking until tears streaked her cheeks. Then missionary, legs over my shoulders, drilling her so deep she sobbed in ecstasy. "Don't stop! I need your cock forever!" Her orgasms chained, body convulsing as I unloaded inside, breeding her tiny womb.

Sunday morning, Mark's flight landed. Emily was a mess— glowing, but clingy. We had one last quickie in the guest room, her sucking me off while I fingered her to a silent climax. She swallowed every drop, eyes locked on mine. "What if Dad finds out?" she whispered, but her hand lingered on my spent cock. "We'll figure it out. Sneak over anytime."

Mark knocked, all smiles and thanks. Hugged Emily tight. She glanced back at me, biting her lip, that secret hunger in her eyes. As they left, she mouthed 'soon.' Yeah, she was hooked— my cock had ruined her for anyone else. And I couldn't wait for round two.