Taking Brittany Home

TAKING BRITTANY HOME

”Daddy, can you come pick us up?”

“Hey, sweetie,” I spoke into my cell phone. Ashley, my eighteen-year-old daughter, sounded concerned.

“So soon? Who’s ‘us’”?

“Brittany and me. You know my friend, Brittany?”

“Yeah, sure. baby. You’re still at Melinda’s?”

“Yes, daddy. Can you come now?”

It was a Friday night in late March and I was trying to get my income tax material ready for my accountant, but my little girl needed me. “Of course, sweetie. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

“Thanks, daddy.”

I saved my work on the computer and grabbed my jacket and keys. Backing the Porsche 911 Carrera out of our suburban garage, I glanced at the clock on the dash. It was only 8:15 pm. I had dropped Ashley off at a party at Melinda’s house only forty-five minutes before. I was going to pick her up 11:00. I wondered what had happened. The party must have been a bummer.

As I drove toward Melinda’s, I thought about how important Ashley was to me, especially after her mother ran away with her boss a year ago and left us alone. If it wasn’t for Ashley, I don’t know how I would have coped.

Ashley had a good head on her shoulders. Very unlike her mother. She had her mother’s looks, though, which was certainly okay. I saw my ex-wife in every move my daughter made.

As I pulled up to Melinda’s house, I could see Ashley among a small group of other teenagers in the bright light on the front porch. She waved as she saw the Porsche pull into the driveway, and I then saw her turn and help someone up from one of the porch chairs. I watched as Ashley helped a girl down the steps of the porch, and then began leading her across the grass to my car. I leaned over and rolled the passenger window down as they came up to the car.

“What’s going on, babe?” I asked.

“Dad, you should have brought the Mercedes. I told you I had Brittany with me.”

“The Mercedes is in the shop, sweetie. One of you can squeeze in the back.” I then noticed that the other girl, Brittany, was wobbling precariously. As Ashley opened the passenger door, Brittany suddenly bent over and vomited. Shit, not on the car, I thought!

I watched as Ashley tended to her friend, patting her head as the girl finished tossing her cookies. I backed the car up a bit so that the girls wouldn’t have to step over the vomit, or in it, to get into my car.

“I’ll get in the back, Dad. We can’t put Brittany back there. Can you come around and hold her while I get in?”

I got out of the car and did as my daughter asked. Ashley, who was wearing jeans and a jacket, pulled the back of the front seat down and nimbly hopped into the back while I held her woozy friend. It was when I was searching for an appropriate part of the girls’ body to hold that I noticed that she wasn’t wearing much: a shoulder-less raspberry colored tube top with bare midriff, and a very short white mini-skirt. It was not the way a daughter of mine would have been allowed to dress in public.

“Doesn’t she have a jacket,” I asked of Ashley, who was settled in the tiny backseat of the 911. “It’s really cool out.”

“I don’t know, Dad. I asked her, but…I couldn’t get an answer, and nobody knew if she had one or not.”

Gently, I pushed the teenage girl into the passenger’s seat of the 911. Off balance, her butt plopped onto the seat, while her bare legs, like those of a young colt, stuck awkwardly out the car door, her skirt hiking up a very unladylike distance of thigh. With her now sitting beneath my eye level, I could also not help noticing that her tube top allowed a shocking amount of cleavage—shocking for a parent, certainly! She must have been wearing a push up bra, because there was no evidence of a bra on the upper portion of her ample young breasts, a good portion of which were bare for the world to see. Not exactly certain how to proceed, I bent over and lifted the girl’s feet—she was wearing a pair of moderately high heeled shoes—and maneuvered them into the car, bending her long legs at the knees in doing so. I then shut the door of the 911 and walked around to the driver’s side.

As I pulled the car into the street and drove away, Ashley, leaning forward in the backseat, proceeded to tell me what had happened while her friend slumped in the front passenger seat. The party at Melinda’s had quickly gotten out of hand because the girl’s parents weren’t at home. There were guys who had brought a lot of booze. “Honest, Dad, I didn’t know her parents weren’t going to be there.”

I looked at my daughter in the rearview mirror. “Did you have anything to drink?” I asked.

“Duh! I’m not a total dork, Daddy. I had a gin tonic. Just one, though. But Brittany, I don’t know how many she had. And this guy I know really well told me that some of the guys had roofies, and I think they might have given Brittany one, and I was scared for her, so I thought I’d better get her out of there.”

”What are roofies,” I asked.

“You don’t know roofies? Ruffles? Rochies? Date rape drugs, Dad.”

“Oh.” I learn things from my 18 year old daughter every day, but I was uncomfortable hearing the word “rape” come out of her mouth. “You did good, then, sweetie. That was the smart thing to do.”

“Well, she might have taken some, I don’t know. She seems pretty out of it.”

I then made some comment about how inappropriate Brittany’s clothes were for a girl her age. My daughter called me old fashioned. But I remembered a slumber party that Ashley had had a couple months before. She had four or five girls over for the night, and Brittany was one of them. Actually, I found out later that that was Brittany’s eighteenth birthday. I recalled now how I had gone into the kitchen for something around midnight. I thought all the girls were in the basement, but I found Brittany getting water from the spigot on the refrigerator door. The kitchen was rather dark, but from what I could tell she was wearing nothing but a white t-shirt, and there was nothing “old fashion” about seeing the inappropriateness of that. Why, the shirt just barely covered her…her…crotch! And there definitely was no bra beneath that t-shirt!

Brittany had caught me as my eyes were making that judgment about her braless condition, and I’m sure my face reddened. There was a brief, embarrassing silence between us that she broke when she said: “Hi, Mr. Adams,” as she continued to draw water from the refrigerator door. The voice caught me off guard with its low pitch, which seemed very mature for such a young girl. “I’m Brittany”, she said.

“Hello, Brittany,” I managed to say, trying to regain a composure that had been momentarily thrown off balance by the—well, there was no other way to say it—the “sexiness” of this young girl. She had apparently just brushed her long, dark blonde hair, for it fairly shinned in what was just enough light in the dark kitchen.

She maintained eye contact with me even after she had filled her water glass and let go of the spigot, and I found that to be not only atypical of a teenage girl, but to be additionally disconcerting, as well. The fact that she did not take her eyes off mine could not prevent me from shooting an involuntary glance at what was really a remarkable pair of legs on display beneath that skimpy t-shirt. I became deeply embarrassed, and was certain that she not only was aware of my discomfort in her presence, but was rather amused by it, given the devilish little grin that seemed to play at the corner of her lips.

“I really like your car, Mr. Adams,” she then said, again breaking what had become an awkward silence. “You’ll have to give me a ride it in some day.”

She was flirting with me!

“Sure,” I said. “Anytime.”

I snapped out of my flashback recollection just as we approached our house. Ashley had been talking, but I’m afraid I hadn’t been listening. “Is Brittany going to spend the night with you?” I asked.

“Dad! I just told you. No. Can you take her home? I was talking to her before she got wasted, and she said she just HAS to be home tonight by eleven, or else her parents are going to ground her.”

“Sure. We can take her.”

”Dad, actually, well…Billy Powell is going to come by soon and pick me up. He’s leaving the party, too. We’re going to go to a movie. Okay, Dad? Can you take her home?” From the backseat, my daughter put her hands on my shoulders and massaged them as I drove. The little devil knew that her dad could not resist anything she asked when she rubbed his shoulders. “I’ll type her address into the GPS for you.” I hadn’t said yes yet. I didn’t have to. It was a done deal.

At our house, I got out of the car and Ashley squeezed out the driver’s side door, leaving Brittany undisturbed in the front passenger seat of the 911.

“Look,” I told Ashley, taking her by the arm. “This Billy character, he doesn’t have any of those…roofies, does he?”

My daughter laughed. “No, Dad. He’s the one who warned me about them.”

“Do you really think someone slipped her one of those things” I asked, motioning toward the passed out girl in the car.

“I don’t know, but she did have a lot to drink. And the more you drink, the worse that stuff is.”

As Ashley walked toward the house, I checked the GPS and saw that Brittany’s house was a full sixteen miles away, going out on the state route. I sighed, thinking the round trip would take over a half an hour. The things I do for my daughter! I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

It was at the first stop light that I glanced over to the unconscious teenage girl sitting in the front seat of my sports car. Actually, she was more laying than sitting, as Ashley, when she had been in the backseat, had reached forward and dropped the back of the front seat to a forty-five degree angle so that her friend would be more comfortable. My concern was that she would throw up again.

While at the stop light, my eyes couldn’t help but notice the expanse of thigh showing below the hem of the girl’s tight mini-skirt. How could parents let their daughter go out in public like this?

I looked up at the stop light. It was still red. Then, casually, my eyes traveled back to my passenger. She was softly illuminated by the glow of the streetlight that came through the 911’s moon roof. My eyes darted to those bare thighs again. This young lady certainly had nice legs, I thought. And then I felt ashamed of myself for having that thought. She’s just a KID, I told myself. Okay, she’s eighteen, but just barely. Get your mind out of the gutter.

Thinking back, I recalled again that time that Brittany had had been to the sleep over, and how, well, very MATURE she had been for her age. It seemed that many of my daughter’s friends were really kids in the true sense: braces, bubble gum, giggling and obsessions with boy musical bands. Most of these girls were as sexy as fence posts. Brittany was certainly different, I had to admit. The way she dressed. And the way she had maintained eye contact with me that night! And the way she flirted with me! The experience had certainly made me stand a little straighter that night, suck in the gut a little tighter.

My gaze now was lingering on the girl’s thighs, mesmerized by the way her legs were slightly parted as she lay reclined in the passenger’s seat. At that moment the car behind me at the stoplight honked. How long had the light been green?!

I let out the clutch and took off, but soon came to a second red light. Stopping again, I could not resist the temptation of looking over again at the unconscious girl. I felt a twang of self-consciousness in doing this. A little voice told me I shouldn’t be looking at my own daughter’s friend this way. But…well…the way this girl was dressed made it pretty much impossible for a red blooded male to not take in a little eye candy, and it didn’t matter if she was so young! No harm in looking, in my book, so my eyes ignored the little voice and this time settled on the way the girl’s fully developed breasts filled her tight fitting raspberry tube top. Below the top, the bare skin of her flat tummy was bathed in the eerie light of another street lamp. My gaze then traveled back up to the twin mounds that were so enticingly encased in the stretchy material of her tight top. My gaze then continued on up to her bare shoulders over which cascaded long locks of dark blonde hair. They didn’t build sixteen year olds like this when I was sixteen, I thought wistfully.

I have no idea how long I must have been staring at her before once again a car behind me honked impatiently. Was it the same car that had honked at the first stop light? As I sped away from the traffic light, I felt something. It was a bulge that had grown in my pants, straining against the confines of my boxer shorts and jeans. Easy boy, I said to myself. Easy!

I now turned onto the state route and got up to speed. As I did so, I checked my seatbelt, and it occurred to me at that moment that I had never fastened a seatbelt around my young passenger. I tried for a few moments to reach over and pull the belt around her while traveling at speed, but then thought better of it and decided to pull to a stop on the shoulder of the road to do so. With the car at a stop and the emergency brake set, I reached over and pulled her seatbelt from its harness above and behind the passenger-side door. I pulled the belt over the girl’s body and fastened its clasp in place. The interior of the car was dark, as there were no street lights where I stopped. Only the lights of the car’s dashboard provided what little illumination there was, and it just enough for me to notice the particularly enticing way that the shoulder strap of the seatbelt fell in between the girl’s twin breasts. Something about that image caught me off guard and virtually paralyzed me. Oh, what a lovely sight she was! What a sleeping beauty! I suddenly wondered if those marvelous tits on this sixteen year old girl were real or implants. Ashley had told me before that some of her friends had been talking about implants, but I never heard that any of them had actually done it. What parent would allow their teenager to get them? What doctor would do it?

Sighing, I sat back in my own seat, grasped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead through the windshield and into the darkness. I shut my eyes, took a deep breath and listened to the steady purr of the Porsche’s idling engine. The bulge in my pants was becoming painful. I reached into my pants and pulled my cock into a straight position inside the boxers to provide it with some space to grow if it was intent on doing so.

Joe, I told myself, let’s go. Put the car in gear and let’s go. Please. Instead, I turned my head and looked yet again in the direction of my passenger. Not only that, I turned on the dome light so that I could see her better. Were they real, or false? Oh, but to find out! She was so close to me, yet so far!

There was that little voice again. It was saying something like, well, if this were Ashley, and some man were bringing her home, that man was correct in stopping to put a seat belt around her, but then, that man would continue driving. A correct man would continue driving now, Joe!

I ignored the little voice. “Brittany?” I called her name softly. When she didn’t respond, I repeated her name in a louder voice. Nothing. Tentatively, I touched her bare shoulder. I let my hand linger there, and then shook her gently. There was no doubt that she was completely passed out. I thought of what Ashley had said about the—what had she called them?—whatever, the date rape drug. Had this girl in fact ingested something like that? If so, from the little I had read about these types of drugs, the victim remains passed out for hours.

My hand on her shoulder began to tremble. No one would ever know if I just…if my hand just…if I just let my hand on her shoulder…drift…downward. To find out if they were real or not. No one would ever know. The girl would never know. No one would. It would just be my little secret. My own dirty little secret. And it would feel so GOOD!

Take her home! the little voice demanded.

My little finger was the first part of my hand to reach the tube top as the hand roamed downward from the girl’s shoulder. When my other four fingers arrived, the five of them cupped the girl’s breast—the one closest to me—through the soft, stretchy material of the tube top. It was one of the most exciting experiences I had ever had. Her well developed tit was firm yet soft and squeezable, and stood upright, probably not requiring the tiny, lacey bra that I could feel was delicately holding them beneath the tube top. I was thrilled by the discovery that she was all natural! There was no silicon inside these babies!

While feeling her tit, I noticed for the first time a delicate, gold necklace that adorned her lovely, slender neck. My eyes then traveled to her expensive looking ear rings that dangled from her lobes. What a classy young lady, I thought.

Feeling confident that the girl was indeed unconscious, I became bolder, and sent my hand underneath the tube top, where the skin of my fingers touched the skin of her ripe young breast. This electrified me. The bra was one of those little numbers that only holds the breasts’ bottom hemispheres while permitting the upper hemispheres to remain bare while being uplifted into cleavage. The bra just barely covered the girl’s nipple, and it was an easy matter for me to push the delicate undergarment downward just a hair and allow the nipple to pop out unencumbered, where it became pinched between my eager fingers.

At that moment a semi truck sped past our car, shaking it. I decided that I needed to park in a better spot. Panting from excitement, I withdrew my hand from the teenage girl’s breast, put the Porsche in gear and drove forward, and had not gone too far until I found a construction site beside the road where some earth moving equipment had been parked for the night. The area offered a wide expanse of gravel where I was able to pull the car a good thirty feet off the road.

I turned the engine off this time and turned impatiently toward my slumbering teenage passenger. With the dome light on again, I noticed appreciatively how most of her left breast had remained exposed, as I had already pushed the tube top down a few inches. Her delicate nipple was peeking out above the pushed down, frilly lace bra. If I was going to get cold feet about this terrible thing that I was doing, those feet were quickly warmed by the sight of that naked breast.

I twisted my body in the driver’s seat to better face the sleeping girl. The first thing I did was to undo the seat belt that I had not long ago put around her. I wanted free access to those breasts, and the seat belt was definitely in the way.

With both hands I urgently pushed the girl’s tube top downward, completely exposing both breasts, with the bra covering only the right one. The gold necklace that graced her neck sparkled softly in the dome light. Excitement had my heart thundering within my chest. I paused only a moment and then, with hands trembling, reached for that portion of the skimpy bra that still covered the right tit and likewise pushed it downward, out of the way. My teen angel’s full, ripe breasts were now exposed in all their glory as she remained lying there, reclined at a forty-fie degree angle in the passenger seat, unconscious, unaware that she her young, hard body was providing viewing pleasure for a horny, middle aged man who was supposed to be taking her home.

It was my left arm that reached across my body toward her, and my left hand that now came into contact with the soft, warm flesh of this beautiful eighteen year-old’s remarkable young breasts. I massaged them thoroughly, alternating between soft and aggressive, and could feel the breasts’ nipples harden as I did so.

Meanwhile, my right hand had taken the girl’s chin and lifted her face upward so that I could see it in the glow of the dome light as I fondled her bared breasts with my left hand. She was certainly a very pretty girl. Except that her hair was lighter, she looked a little like a very young Angelina Jolie, complete with the pouty looking lips. I played briefly with her delicate ear ring, and tugged lightly on the ear lobe which it adorned.

I bent over to kiss those lips, but with the console between the bucket seats, the confines of the interior of the 911 severely restricted my movement and allowed me to get my lips only to barely touch hers. But I was able to feel her warm breath on my face, and as I fondled her tits I thought that my penis was going to explode.

Damn it but the tight interior of the Porsche 911 was so constraining! I wished I HAD brought the Mercedes. I could have pulled this hot little honey into the back seat of that car and had much more room to play with her!

I stroked the girl’s long, dark blonde hair, feeling its silkiness as the strands flowed through my fingers. My fingers of the right hand then began to trace the features of the young lady’s face: her cheeks, her nose, her full, luscious lips. A finger parted her lips and entered her mouth, feeling the warm wetness of her tongue while my other hand kneaded and molded her tits. My cock, which I had the foresight to set in a straight position, now fairly throbbed, its hardness complete.

Any little inner voice was now totally banished to the deepest recesses of my brain, and my left hand now departed from the young lady’s fantastic breasts and traveled downward. It passed over the lump that was the tube top and bra bunched around her abdomen, and then lingered when it reached the arm, bare skin of her flat tummy. There, the tip of my forefinger toyed with her belly button. As I did this, I carefully watched the girl’s pretty face, illuminated by the Porsche’s dome light, searching for any sign of her coming to. What the hell would I do if my daughter’s friend did come awake at this moment and found herself half naked in this car with an adult man’s hands all over her?! I shuddered to think of the possible consequences. At the same time, the very illicitness of what I was doing was proving to be a powerful turn-on in its own right. I knew that what I was doing was wrong, wrong, wrong, but it felt so very good!

I was helpless against the spell that this beautiful, sexy teenager was having on me, and therefore had no control over my hand as it now continued to roam her hard body, moving downward. Again I told myself that this was okay because no one would ever know. No one! So the hand kept moving, and soon felt the top of the tight miniskirt. Pressing against the girl’s body, the hand moved sideways, feeling the curvaceous swell of the hips of this woman-child.

Eagerly now, and impatiently, my hand went to the girl’s bare thigh, her left thigh, the one closest to me. I massaged this wonderful, warm flesh, so silky smooth and soft yet, when squeezed, so firm and toned. Then my roving hand traveled up the thigh, passing beneath the hem of the tight miniskirt and after just a few more tantalizing, heavenly inches came to the warm, panty-clad juncture of the young girl’s two beautiful legs. I pressed my hand firmly against her sex as my eyes traveled back and forth between her bared breasts and the peaceful expression on her pretty face as illuminated by the soft rays from the dome light.

Eagerly my fingers sought access into one of the leg openings of the lacy panties. The actions of my arm and hands under the miniskirt had hiked the tiny skirt all the way up to the point where I could see my hand as my fingers disappeared inside the girl’s panties. My middle finger quickly found the lips of her girlhood and, with no hesitation, sunk its inside up to the first knuckle.

There I paused to study the girl’s face, looking for any sign of consciousness. There was none. She was sleeping peacefully, her eyes closed, her mouth slightly open, and my finger was inside her sweet, young pussy!

I then introduced a second finger into her warm, moist interior, also up to the first knuckle. Then, with my other hand—the right hand—I slowly inserted two fingers into her slightly parted mouth where I felt the same warmth and wetness that the fingers of my left hand were experiencing. Mad with lust, I thrust the two fingers of my left hand deeper into the teen’s warm vagina. I was now inside her up to the second knuckles, and felt no resistance to indicate that she was a virgin. Pushing inward even further, I convinced myself that there was no hymen. Unless there had been some kind of bicycle or horseback riding incident in her past, my fingers were apparently not the first intruding object to explore this particular piece of real estate.

With excitement grabbing at my throat and making my heart pound, I began to eagerly finger fuck the teen beauty. As my left hand had its way with her young cunt, the fingers of my right hand were fucking her mouth, the tips of my fingers feeling the warm, wet softness of her tongue and the hard, equally moist surface of the roof of her mouth. I became insane with lust, and quickly was overcome with the wild desire to fuck this 18-year-old hottie with something other than my fingers. My god! I was contemplating RAPE! I had never in my life even thought about raping a woman. What was coming over me? Come on, Joe, enough of this madness I scolded myself. You’ve gotten enough. You’ve gotten your fingers wet. Take this girl home and then go home and masturbate smelling her on your fingers!

But I was helplessly under the terrible influence of my swollen cock which, painfully constrained by my pants, was wanting this girl in no uncertain terms. Yes! Rape her! Right here! But how!? There was no room to maneuver inside the compact interior of the Porsche 911. I could recline her seat even more and try to climb on top of her, but I didn’t suppose I could get her legs far enough apart so that she could be fucked. My mind raced desperately as my hands continued to violate her pussy and mouth, respectively. Damn it! It was too cold outside to lay the girl on the ground beside the car, plus it seemed that raindrops had started to fall and, anyway, I didn’t have a blanket or anything. Crap, why did the Mercedes have to be in the garage!? There would have been plenty of room to fuck this girl in the backseat of that sedan! But then it occurred to me that I didn’t have any condoms on me anyway. I couldn’t fuck this little honey without a condom! Even in my present state of raging lust, I knew that I could not run the risk of impregnating her. Two and two would be put together very quickly if she turned up pregnant, and by deduction I would be a suspect and then, with DNA testing, confirmed as the father. Big jail time!

Okay, I told myself with resignation, this was going to have to be it.