Hazard Chronicles #20 - Runaway


[erotica, hardcore, barely-legal, older man/younger woman, teen, virgin, runaway, paranormal]

Hawke had been living alone for so many years that he'd almost forgotten how incredible sex could be. Now he wasn't alone anymore--not since he'd found a ragged little runaway hiding in his barn, and realized that she was an outrageously sexy teenage girl!

Having sex really was like riding a bike. No matter how long it had been, your body remembered. And his was coming alive again with a vengeance! How long could he manage to keep his hands off her, before hot lust tore him apart?


      Hawke waited until she was gone, then turned the water to icy cold and splashed it across his sweating face. Touching her had been a big mistake. A huge mistake. Now he was going to be hard all night, and he hadn't suffered that particular malady in too many years to count.
      He'd have to take care of the problem himself, in the privacy of his own bedroom, because for sure he couldn't turn to her for comfort. Someone had abused that poor little kid, and he wasn't about to compound it by forcing himself on her. No matter how desperately he ached to do just that.
      The pots and pans could wait. If he didn't take care of this little...check that, big...problem right away, he was likely to do something he shouldn't.
      His legs were a little unsteady as he hurried back to his bedroom, and that was something he hadn't experienced in a long, long time, either. Who could have guessed that, at his age, he could feel as horny as a teenage boy lusting after his first soft tit again?
      Never should have turned yourself into a hermit, he thought once his door was securely closed, and he could unzip his worn jeans with a soft moan of relief. You're too old for seduction, and too young for a second childhood. So where does that leave you?
      Panting in his room like an eager virgin, as he wrapped his callused fingers around the big chunk of meat that had made his Anna Maria sigh with blissful pleasure. Helluva time it had picked to rise from the dead!
      Beating off really was like riding a bike, though, he realized as familiar pleasure began to spiral through his veins. Once you learned, it didn't matter how old you were. You never truly forgot.
      Heat rose in a shocking tidal wave. He gasped in surprise, then groaned as slick moisture began to wet his fast-moving fingers. Why on earth had he ever stopped doing this? Why had he denied himself the amazing pleasure of physical release, as if masturbation was something inherently evil?
      Had it been this intense the last time he'd touched himself...oh, it had to be nearly twenty years ago now! Maybe, like cheese or a fine wine, age had sharpened each exquisite sensation, until his nerves were on fire and he...
      A long, strangled moan rumbled in his chest as he came hard, and thick spurts gushed against his curved palm. Gasping, he fell back on his bed and kept stroking, slower, until he'd milked the last slippery drop from his rigid length.
      Wearily he closed his eyes, and laid there savoring the sweet aftershocks.
      This was what he'd needed.
      But it wasn't his dead wife's exotic face that had flared before his dilated eyes just before he'd erupted. And he wondered, as he breathlessly waited for his thundering heart to slow, how he was going to survive having a sexy young girl in the house for the next several days...

Word Count: 13,541

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