"Damn!"

"What's wrong?" Don asked, drawing close to her.

"My keys. I think I left my keys at home," she wailed. "Well, I guess I'll go back to Emily's. I'll wait until my mother comes home."

"Wait a sec. I'm pretty good at these sort of things," Don said.

He took her by the hand, leading the girl around to the side of the big, dark house. Traci's heart was pounding – not because they were going to break in but because Don's manner was so masterful, his grip was so sure, so firm. She watched as he studied the windows, played a little with one of them, finally jiggling one hard enough to open it.

"Come on," he whispered, half in the house, stretching out a hand to her.

Traci threw in her blanket and beach bag, following the young man in. How good it felt to be in her home, even if she had to get in through the window. It would be something she and her mother would laugh about for years to come.

"Let me get you something to drink," Traci said, throwing her articles down on the dining room floor and padding to the kitchen. Don followed, laying his things on the table.

"I think I've got some fruit juice around her somewhere," Traci said, opening the refrigerator and sticking her head in. She didn't notice at first that Don was in the kitchen. Then she felt a hand touch her ass, caressing her full, firm asscheeks. This was going too far! Whether he helped her or not, she wasn't going to put out.

"Get out!" Traci snapped, wheeling around and slamming the refrigerator door shut. The cookie jar on top wheeled around, slipping to the floor and breaking into a hundred pieces. Don's cock was hard and thick, throbbing against the white material of his suit.

"You want it," he said evenly, his eyes narrowed, his face tight and determined.

"NO! Please, no, no, no!" Traci begged, startled by her reaction to his words. He was right. She knew he was right. Her body was begging for his cockmeat.