Meeting Monica in #503*

My knock at #503 is answered by a busty blonde teen in a pink top and floral-print skirt. “Are you Iain Roberts?” she asks, her expression both avid and anxious.

“I am,” I say gravely. “You must be Monica McKee.”

“Yeah,” she says breathlessly. “Dayna said you might be coming—I hoped—” She draws me in and closes the door. “I’ve been wanting to lose my virginity to a real man, so I’ve been waiting—I just turned eighteen last week . . . the girls said they’d help me find someone—here, come in . . .” Monica leads me into the living room and sits on a white couch; I take a seat opposite her.

“Did Dayna explain about the camera?” I ask, touching the rig.

“She did . . .” Monica says, her voice rich with emotion. “She said you’re taking pictures of everyone—and—and—maybe other things . . .”

I snap a picture and show it to her. Monica looks pleased. “I like that,” she says.

“Let me show you how much else there is to like,” I say. It worked with Sierra, after all. “Let’s do a little erotic photoshoot so you can see how sexy you are. I promise I won’t show anyone else.”

Monica’s anxiety increases, but so does her arousal. Interesting. “OK,” she says—quickly, like she’s trying to get it out before someone changes her mind. “What—what do you want me to do?”

I stop and consider for a moment. “Grab your tits, baby,” I tell her. “Squeeze those beautiful sweater puppies for me.” She does as I say, but her smile is uneasy, a little awkward.

“Now, sexy girl, pull up your top,” I instruct her. “Don’t expose your nipples, but let me see the bottoms of your sweet titties.” Monica lifts her top with one hand, so only exposes one breast, but it pulls the top tight under the other one. She looks at me timidly, clearly unsure of my approval.

“Very sexy,” I say, letting the lust in my voice come through clearly.

“Do you think so?” Monica asks shyly.

“I know it, baby,” I tell her. “If you don’t believe me, just look at my pants. You see my cock trying to tear open my zipper? That’s all you, sexy girl.” She looks down and her eyes go wide. She licks her lips and stares at my twitching bulge. “Now, sweet thing, show me a bit more,” I say.

To my surprise, Monica leans back and spreads her legs, showing me her panties. She fixes her eyes on me with growing hunger and pulls her top up further, exposing some underboob and letting one thick pink peg pop free.

With no instruction from me, Monica slides down further and pulls her top all the way above her heavy melons. She gives me a smoldering look, pinches her fat nipples, and pulls.

Monica moans loudly; I can see her panties growing damp. “Now, sexy, sit up and show off those pretty fucking titties.” She sits up quickly and pulls her top up to her neck, squeezing her melons a bit between her forearms.

She pulls her top off and flings it across the room. She rests her hands on her boobs and stares at me lustfully. “Like what you see, stud?” Monica asks huskily. She doesn’t have the assurance of herself to really pull off the seductress, but she’s hot as all fuck anyway.

“Do I ever, you little vixen,” I growl. “Get down on all fours.”

Monica swings herself into position and looks at me. “Like this?” she asks softly.

“Just like that, minx,” I tell her.

“Now, since you’ve been such a good subject, I’m going to give you your reward.”