In angel's room by Jed, JedVenturer@yahoo.com He thought he was the predator, until his victim lured him into her lair! Her name is Angel. She is tall and leggy, lushly curved and completely unaware of how provocative she is. With her sleek, firm curves, wide doe's eyes and mellow chocolate-brown skin, she is all innocence and adventure waiting to be discovered and set loose. She is fourteen. She is in love with my friend Jeffrey. Of course, at fourteen love is a difficult thing to define. Jeffrey and I work at the condo complex where Angel and her rich-bitch friends live. We cut the crass, rake the leaves, clear the gutters, and do every other hard job Angel and her friends' daddies are too busy making money to do. We spend all day out in the hot sun, in our brown lawn-boy uniforms, and watch the girls walk to the complex pool in their brightly-colored bathing suits, taut, tanned legs smooth and silky as they walk. Sometimes they'll stop to flirt, but you can tell they think you're beneath them. No chance any of the working stiffs will get a chance at any of these sweet little things with their soft skins and softer lives. Except maybe for Jeff. He's a college man, working his way through school, not a lifer like me and the others. He's not a bad guy, and you can't blame him for the way the little girls fall all over him. He sure doesn't encourage them - he's polite, he'll talk and joke with them, but he doesn't give them any idea he's interested in them. Still, Angel and her posse (Jeff calls them the "coven") are hot for our college-man. And me, I take one look at lithe and lovely Angel, chocolate delight at the prime of her life, and I can't imagine not indulging. She's got that self-conscious wiggle in her walk and the sway-back posture of a girl who's not used to her own equipment. She all angles, knees and elbows, where she's not all curves, tits and ass. It's an irresistible combination, and I don't know how Jeff keeps from pouncing on her. "Five to ten," was his answer the only time I asked him. He smiled crookedly, then. "I think the going rate for sex with an under-age is five-to-ten." Then he sighed and went right back to his work. Me? I think that's a risk I'd be willing to take, for one shot at a cool, long-legged and big-eyed piece like Angel. Just one shot. I'm working with Jeff. It's a hot morning and we've been at it all day, cleaning out the beds around the foundations of one of the brownstone units near the pool. From the direction of the pool I see three figures approaching, and I know who it is by the shapes. It's Angel, Mona and Kimmie. I position myself so I'm near the path, weeding, when they come by. They stop; Kimmie squats down, spreading her knees so I can get a good look at her best feature as she "innocently" chats. She's a round- faced, round-bodied little thing with surprisingly good legs, big breasts and a nice ass. In any other man's book, she'd be worth a grab. But blond, moon-faced Kimmie pales when she's around her friend Angel. I kid with Kimmie, but my eyes keep stealing to the supple form of Angel, who is predictably scanning for Jeff. When he comes up she goes all soft and coy, eyes fluttery and weight shifting from foot to foot. Angel thinks her crush on him is her secret, but everyone can tell, even dimbulb Jeff, and Kimmie and I have a hoot at Angel's expense. I'm just thinking I can use the we're-making-fun-of-Angel angle to get into Kimmie - second best is still pretty good - when the girls decide they've done enough damage and pass on. Jeff and I watch their hip-swaying progress. "You could have her any time you want, man," I comment. "I know," he says. "But she's just a kid. And she's kind of screwed up." "Then put in a good word for me, if you don't want her." He laughs, slapping me on the shoulder. "That's what I'll do, Terry. I'll sic 'er on you." Later that day, we're working on the shrubs outside one of the duplex units - Angel's unit, just by chance. We hear a window sliding up, and then a voice floats down to us: "Jeff! Jeff! Can you help me?" We look up. It's Angel - no surprise - leaning out of her second-story window. And what a sight: she's still wearing a t-shirt over her skin-tight one piece bathing suit, and she's leaning way out. Her long, sculpted legs are stretched to the limit, and she's hanging on to the window frame with one hand, stretching her T-shirt across her magnificent breasts. And she's pointing up to the underside of the rain gutter, just above her window. "Be careful, Angel; what are you talking about?" Jeff calls up. "There's a baby bird that fell out of it's nest," she calls back. "He fell into the rain-gutter, and I'm afraid he'll die. Will you come up and get him out?" "Who's home with you?" "Nobody - I'm alone." "No damned way I'm going in there," he mutters to me in an aside. "Hold on - I'll go get a ladder," he calls up to her, starting back to the tool-shed. "You can reach him from here - in my room," she says. "And walk right into your clutches?" he laughs. "No thanks - I'll stay outside where it's safe." Then he turns to me and says quietly "don't let her get too close," and saunters off for a two-story ladder with which to save Angel's errant baby bird. Then something amazing happens. Angel watches his retreating figure, then she turns her gaze down to me. "Terry, I'm really afraid he'll fall. Will you come up and save him - please?" She's wringing the hem of her t-shirt, pulling it tight around her luscious body, revealing the full length of her smooth thighs and the soft mound between them, covered only by the thinnest material possible of her bathing suit. "I'd be so grateful," she adds, but already I'm on my way in. Her room is about what you'd expect - big, airy and everything pink. She's standing at the window in the corner, hands still ringing the hem of her t-shirt, glancing up and out every now and then. "Show me your little bird," I say, coming up to stand right beside her. This close, she's just about my height, but her legs come up to about my waist. She puts her hand on my arm and leans out a little, pointing up. The rain gutter is about two feet out from the wall and a good five feet up - there's no way I'm gonna reach it from the window. But I didn't come in to see the bird, anyway. I grab her arm and lean out - not too far, this is just for effect, and it gives me an excuse to feel her breast as I hang onto her arm. I can't see anything in the gutter, and for a moment I wonder if the "bird" was just an excuse to get someone - me - up here. I pull myself back in. Inspiration strikes. "I've got to lean far out," I tell her. "Come stand right here." I put my hands on her shoulders, moving her right next to the window. She's got a long, graceful column of a neck, high cheekbones and deep, dark eyes. Her breasts push against the material of her t-shirt, high and firm and expressive. All the rest of her is leg - long, toned and muscular from a summer of swimming and tennis. She's so smooth and cool and sensual, I wonder briefly if she even sweats. I put my right hand on the small of her back. "Stand here and don't move," I say. "You're all that's keeping me from falling." Then I lean out again. Of course she moves - she almost falls out the window. But I've got my other hand on the window-sill, and I get the nice sensation of her whole body against mine, her silky-smooth legs parting to either side of my leg as she stumbles forward. Then she braces herself, legs firm, body tensed, as I lean out further, my hand on the smooth curve of her hip and taut waist. There's muscle in her back, I can tell, her ass is firm and hard, her legs sculpted. She's a magnificent teenaged athletic specimen. "Can't get out far enough," I mutter, pulling myself back in and getting another nice feel of her young breasts as I pull myself against her. "I'm afraid my grip will slip; let's do it without your t-shirt." Anything for the birdie - she lifts her T-shirt over her head and off in a wonderfully smooth and supple maneuver. There she stands in just her one-piece bathing suit, every sleek curve and contour of her at hand. I put my hand back on her hip, leaning out again. But this time, my eyes stay on her body as she tenses her muscles to hold my weight. "Still can't reach," I way, pulling myself in yet again, and pulling her closer yet. "We'll have to wait for the ladder." I stand there, as if catching my breath, my hand still on her waist, still holding her very close. The material of her bathing suit is cool and slick, tighter than skin, and she slides against me delightfully. I lean against her a little until her breasts press against my chest, and my hard-on pushes against her pussy. "How should we pass the time," I ask, leaning in to her; she backs away, but there is the wall, and I press forward until first our bodies, then our lips meet. She resists for a second, then her lips part in a surprised expression. She starts again when my tongue touches her lips, and my hand slips between the material of her bathing suit and her sleek hip. She grabs at my hand on her ass through the thin fabric, rising up on her toes as if to escape me. Most of my weight pins her to the wall now, and she must feel my hardness against her softness. My free hand rises up her other side, following the smooth contours of her hip, her waist and her torso, to the fullness of her high, firm breast. Her other hand goes there, too, but plucks only feebly at my enclosing hand. She pulls away from our kiss, and is about to speak when I apply myself to her throat. She gulps, then moans, writhing gently between my body and the wall. My entire hand is on her ass, held close by the tight-stretched fabric of her bathing suit. I pull her hard against me, kneading her magnificent ass, and she literally climbs the wall, her feet off the ground, draping herself over me. She moans, low and long, and her strong legs wrap around my hips as I apply my mouth to her high, full breasts through her bathing suit. With my free hand now I slip her bathing-suit strap off her shoulder and partway down her arm, exposing the soft, sensuous swelling of her breast. "Stop," she whispers, "I'm not ready for this," but she struggles only fitfully in my arms, and she moans as my lips purse against her erect nipples through the material of her suit. "I can't do it," she says, as I tug my hands loose, but they're tangled in the straps of her bathing suit, or trapped between her suit and her body. I grasp her breast, struggling against the material wrapped around my wrist, and I feel her nipple respond against my palm. "I'll do everything," I say, nipping her throat, and she shudders, arching her back and convulsively wrapping her legs around me. I must free my hands, I won't last long the way we're going, and I want desperately to lower her body onto me, to take her here in the corner. With her legs around my hips and waist, and her taut body wrapped over and round me, she encloses me in a surprisingly firm and very sensuous grip, and I fear she'll bring me to climax with my clothes still on. Then her thighs tighten, suddenly and hard around me, and she lifts me off my feet. Every muscle in her body tenses, and the pressure around my body takes my breath away. I look up in shock; she has her hands above her head, and she's holding on to a meshwork of thick swaths of brightly-colored silk, the same color and consistency as her bathing suit. My feet dangle, my hands are still entangled in her bathing suit, and her legs hold me in a crushing grip. I struggle to free my hands and her legs tighten cruelly, the muscles beneath her velvety brown skin rock-hard, grinding me down; I feel a rip in my guts and taste blood in the back of my throat. She reaches down, hanging now with both our bodies supported by only one hand above her head, and she threads more of the thick, cool silken material behind my arms, wrapping my upper arms in the stuff as I struggle not to gag on my own bile. Then finally I can pull my hands free from her body, but my arms are pulled behind my back, my elbows together, and it hurts - a lot. My back screams as she loosens the hold of her iron-hard thighs on me and my body weight is suspended from my arms, now bound behind my back. She slips down so that we are face to face, continuing to wrap my body and arms in the thick shimmering material, and I look into her eyes. And I understand: Her eyes are completely black now, expressionless orbs reflecting no light and no image. Looking into them, I see as if into a pit, and there is no person there looking back. Over us and around us, a weblike meshwork of thick, shimmering silk has appeared stretching from ceiling to floor, and she has woven me into its structure. It was not there when I came into the room and coolly maneuvered her into my arms; she made it appear only after she had lured me in to her embrace. I cannot move my arms, all I can do is kick my legs futilely above the floor, and I am helpless. Still hanging before me, her long and lovely legs loosely draped around me, she reaches down with one hand, her gaze fixed on my face, and she unfastens the snap to my cotton work pants. They fall to the floor. Then she takes my cock, still rock-hard and urgent, in her hand. Her grip is gentle, almost soothing, and I know I'll come into her hand if she moves. And she does move; her hand cups my balls, and I climax, spurting futilely into space. She shows no emotion, not even amusement, in her black, light-swallowing eyes. Then she closes her hand, swiftly, powerfully and completely. Her shoulder tenses, her biceps tense, and I have an instant of agonized anticipation as I realize what she is doing; a hot, surging boil of agony rises up from my crushed testicles through my body, rocketing up through my throat and out my mouth in a silent scream. Silent, because I cannot even breathe with the searing pain radiating from my center; silent, because she has filled my mouth with her magnificent breast at the instant I threw my head back to scream. She releases my mangled balls, and I sag into the silken cradle holding me. Now my weight, sagging against my bonds, conspires to compress my lungs so that breathing is harder still. Through the tears in my eyes I see she is shifting, and I can feel her against me as she pulls herself upward. Her body is hard, lushly contoured, and deadly, and I shock myself by growing hard again as she climbs until her hips are at a level with my head. She stops, and I am looking at her pussy, full expressive lips still covered by the cool, silky material of the bathing suit I was unable to remove from her when she was my prey. Her legs part, and she takes my head between her thighs. Her skin is soft and fine against my cheeks. Then her thighs tighten against me, and my head is pulled back until I am staring straight up at the ceiling, and at Angel, suspended above me. She opens her mouth wide and hisses at me, and I note without surprise that her canine teeth are huge, pointed, and predatory. The innocent schoolgirl with the crush has been replaced by an efficient and cruel hunter, who has trapped me for her prey. Her thighs tighten more; and still more; and yet more. I struggle to pull out of her crushing grip but cannot - her hold is too strong, and her web holds me still and helpless. I can feel my skull creak under the pressure as she steadily increases her crushing hold, and I kick my legs wildly because it is all I can do; I swing in her web, as she languidly turns her hips first one way and then the next to increase the torque on my head; until finally my jaw breaks loose from its hinges, crushing inward on my mouth at the exact instant I come again, my seed jetting out to fall onto the floor. My mouth and throat fill with blood, bone, and tissue, and I know I will choke on it if I cannot free my head from the leg-hold she has me in. She slips downward, slowly but steadily, a controlled descent onto me, her thighs still holding my ruined head, my face turned upward toward her. I understand her intent now, and there is nothing I can, or will, do, as her ultimate pungent softness, still silk-clad, first touches the tip of my nose. I breath deeply in through my nose, taking in her musky scent, and then her lips part as her full body weight comes to rest on me, the cool material covering her pussy stretching over my nose, my destroyed mouth, and with a shudder and a low animal moan she takes me into herself. The strange silk stretches around me, encapsulating my face, my head, as she settles onto me and around me, and I enter darkness and silence. I hear the pulse of her blood all around me as I am pulled up into a long throat, I can feel her lips grasping my shoulders, my body, and I feel her pressing close all around me as I slide slowly into her. I have been holding my breath - I release it now though I know there will be none to replace it; still my lungs try to expand and there is a brief instant of agony as they struggle then collapse upon themselves. In the seconds of consciousness left me I feel the last of me entering the spider's throat and I know that I am gone. My heart hammers out its last few beats, desperate for oxygen as I continue to slide into the hunter's maw - and then I am gone.