"You might try Harry's place on Monday," the girl said. "But he won't help nobody on the week-end."

"How about a motel then?" Alan said. "Is there a place I can stay."

The girl considered his question. She was still running her fingers over his car and leaning close so that her breasts pressed against it. Every time she bent over Alan could see her deep cleavage. She sure had a whopping pair of tits for such a young girl.

"You come home with me," she finally said.

"I couldn't," he said.

"Yes," she said. "Mama won't mind."

She seemed to think this settled the question and she started off walking. He called to her but she didn't turn around. He figured he had no choice. Maybe her mother would be a little more practiced in the art of conversation.

He followed her into the woods and up a wet embankment. The sexy young girl was as sure-footed as a mountain goat. He slid down a couple of times and he knew his suit was mined.

"Yaw sure aren't a woodsman," she said, as she stood waiting for him to catch up.

"No," he said, breathing hard.

"You're different from the boys around here," she said. "I think you're nice looking."

"Where's your place?" he asked.

"Just up there a little way," she said.

She started off again and he followed. This time she walked a little slower.

"I'm Stella Anderson," she said. "What's your name?"

"Alan Wilson."

"That's a nice name. It suits you. Do you think I'm pretty, Alan?"

"Yes," he answered. "I think you're very pretty."

"Would you like to fuck me?"

Alan gasped. At first he didn't think he had heard the question right. Fucking her was exactly what he wanted to do.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Eighteen," she answered, "but you don't have to worry. I've been fucking a long time. I'm good."