enovel Licking Cousin Linda Mickey Wolf [Future Story Codes]

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Licking Cousin Linda ....(70k)    by Mickey Wolf

FOREWORD

I was out on the balcony and it was getting cold, so I turned to get back through the French window into Mom's room.

But then I saw what was going on in Mom's room.

She had cousin Cal on the bed and she was kissing all the way up his legs, kissing and licking all the way up the inside of his legs until her head was right between his thighs, right at his crotch.

She rubbed her palm over his cock as it lay against his belly, and she caressed it until I could see his come stuff sliding down the shaft.

And then she held his cock up and jerked him off just a little with her fist.

He was as hard as he could get.

And then she lowered her mouth around his upright, foaming prick.

One of her hands kept playing with his balls and the other hand was in a loose fist around the base of his rod and every time her mouth slid up the shaft she would slide her fist up the throbbing hard flesh too, so that his slippery prick was always surrounded by the tender grip of her fist or by her sucking mouth.

Mom could tell he wasn't going to be able to hold back his come long, so she let his cock slide from her mouth and she spread her legs and straddled his come-filled cock.

I wondered if what I saw was going to traumatise me for life.

And then I stopped wondering if I was going to be traumatized and starting wondering if I was going to get pneumonia standing out on that windy penthouse balcony.

Because they obviously were going to be at it, one way or another, for a long, long time.

CHAPTER ONE:

My wife and I decided on a second honeymoon. .

I mean, we had to do something. Things were getting just too nuts around the house.

I had saved up enough to take a long time away and to go far away. I hadn't taken my paid vacation for the past two years.

I'm a cop.

I like my work, and for a while there, I was thinking I was married to my job, not to my wife. Which, when you got a wife like mine, is a damn crazy thing to think.

The only thing that kept us from packing the bags and heading straight to Las Vegas was that we'd have to leave our son Calvin to his own devices, alone in our house.

Calvin is eighteen, and when you're at that age, "your own devices" seem to have a lot to do with those things you can't touch when your parents are around. like for instance booze and dope and girls. Not necessarily in that order of importance.

Then me and Jane (that's the wife) got so desperate to get away, that we finally came up with an idea.

Jane has this sister, Chloe. Lives in Chicago with her rich husband (a jerk, by the way) in this penthouse.

I been to that penthouse only twice. Both times I felt like I was in the Presidential Suite at the Sheraton-Ritz.

The place is fucking incredible. And big. We figured we could leave Calvin there for a couple weeks, and if he didn't get along with them, he could just hide in his part of the apartment and not be seen the whole time he was there.

I'm-not exaggerating. That place has so many rooms, they could probably put up every single one of their relations and still have rooms left to rent out to friends who were just passing through.

So Jane gets up the nerve to ask Chloe if maybe she'll take Calvin off our hands for a couple weeks.

Chloe snaps at the chance, quicker than a piranha snapping at a guppie. Says she hasn't seen Cal for four years, and she'd like to see how he'd grown, see what he looked like now that he was a real young man.

Well, we said hip hip hooray to all that, and we were making our plans to go two seconds after Jane put down the phone from talking to Chloe.

I was a little bit worried about sending Cal over to Chloe's.

It's hard to say exactly why.

I guess because Chloe is ... a little ... I guess you could say the word is kinky.

Yeah, kinky is definitely the word.

But, Jane's her sister, and I got to admit, Jane's a little kinky herself. Guess I wouldn't love her so much if she wasn't.

So maybe you're wondering why a couple, just your average everyday couple after eighteen years of marriage suddenly get this burning urge for a second honeymoon.

The answer is: I don't know.

I can only tell you the crazy thing that happened one day when I came home from work.

What happened was, Jane was setting the table for dinner, and we were waiting for Cal to get home from basketball practice and ... and ... well, somehow we ended up fucking right there on the kitchen table.

And what's really strange is that for the last ten years, our screwing has been strictly in bed if at all.

You know how it is after you been married a while.

That crazy excitement you get kinda just ebbs after you been together for so long.

But, I don't know. They say sometimes there's just sort of a "come back" for some couples, and after a lot of years of sticking it out through some pretty rough times, they find they kinda like each other after all.

And that's what happened to us.

Now that Cal is pretty much raised another year and he'll probably be leaving home for good, living at college, and then sooner or later finding a wife of his own, buying a house and we have a lot of money saved up, the rough years are pretty much over for Jane and me.

And now we can just sit back and relax and realize that those years we spent together we pretty damn good after all.

like I say, the realization hit me kinda suddenly one day when I got home from work.

I came in the kitchen, and Jane had gotten this new haircut.

Her hair came down to her shoulders, and it was nice and curly all down the sides of her face.

She looked sexier than hell. Sexier than even Farrah Fawcett-Majors, even.

She was at the sink, peeling a carrot.

She turned around to say "hi" to me, and suddenly, she just took my breath away.

My wife got hitched to me when she was eighteen, so that makes her thirty-six now.

But to look at her, you'd think you were looking at a sex kitten of twenty-two. Well, maybe twenty-five, but that's tops.

She turned around and looked at me, leaning back against the sink, her head kinda thrown back, showing off just how sexy her new hair was.

It kinda made her tits push up against her shirt front, too, like they were playful critters and they wanted to come out and play.

She was wearing a short skirt, and her legs were a little spread, and she was wearing these shoes that looked real sexy they were sorta like high heel, only the heel wasn't quite so high. Hell, I don't know what women call them. Ask a woman.

All I can tell you is that the effect as she stood there, head back, her nice-sized (a little more than a handful) tits pushed out, her beautiful slim, tan (she takes care of herself, and always looks like she's as healthy as the Jane that hung out with Tarzan) legs spread just a little ...

Suddenly, I felt like I had walked in on a beautiful girl that I didn't know.

She was suddenly a total stranger and a total knockout.

I had stopped dead in my tracks and was staring at her.

"Jim, you okay?" she asked me.

I guess I must of looked like I had lapsed into a coma.

"Yeah, hon. I'm fine," I think that's what I said. I'm not sure. I was feeling so strange.

like this wasn't the kitchen that I'd come into everyday year after year to say "hello" to my wife after work.

These things happen some times.

You look at a thing after not looking at it for so long or, I guess a better way to put it is that you do look at it for so long, you stop seeing it and suddenly, some time for what seems like no reason at all, when the time is just somehow ripe, some day you'll look at it and BAM! It'll look shiny and wonderful and new.

And that's what happened with Jane.

It came back to me how damn much I actually loved her.

How damn much we had been through and that we had put each other through.

And how I was absolutely crazy for that beautiful, beautiful woman who had somehow stayed just a girl, even at thirty six, and, even more amazing, who had somehow stayed my wife for eighteen years.

I didn't lose any time, after I snapped out of my trance.

I want right up to her, and threw my arms around her, and I clung to her like she had just saved my life.

She didn't hug me back.

She was too fucking amazed.

I pulled back and looked at her.

"What happened, Jim?"

Then her eyes lit with sudden understanding.

"Jim you got a raise!"

I shook my head.

"Something better than that," I said. "I got me the best lookin' wife a cop ever had."

Her eyes went blank again.

"I ... I don't get it," she said.

I was staring in her baby blue eyes. She had brown hair and blue eyes. Unusual. And pretty as hell.

"Well, you may not get it now," I said to her, watching her grow lovelier by the minute, "But baby, you are sure GOING to get it!"

And I lifted her up in my arms, like I was some sort of comic book hero and I started carrying her to the bedroom.

She started kicking and hitting me. To her I wasn't the comic book hero. To her I was something more along the lines of a crazed King Kong.

"What the hell Jim, have you been drinking?"

I set her down on her feet with a sigh.

"No, hon, haven't had a single drop."

I breathed right in her face, and she sniffed, checking it out as careful as a cop checking out a drunk-driving suspect.

"Well, if it's not liquor, what is it?" She was a little irritated. I think she thought I was playing a joke on her.

"What it is honey is love," I said.

I must have looked sincere. I must have looked like a star-struck kid, because her next comment was a very warm, gentle, "Jimmy-do you have a temperature?"

I realized I had been coming on a little strong.

After years of domestic, dutiful pecks on the cheek, this sudden surge of passion on my part was throwing the poor girl into shock.

I decided on a more subtle approach.

I reached for her tenderly, and stroked her hair. She flinched just a bit, like a nervous puppy.

"Will you give me a kiss?" I asked, soft and gentle as I could.

She seemed willing to go along with that. A little hesitant, but willing.

I pulled her head toward me, gently, cupping both hands to her face, watching her beautiful and still inquisitive deep blue eyes as they came toward me for the kiss.

Our lips met, and I was as excited as the first time that I kissed her.

Her lips, the pressure of them against mine, was so warm, and full and full of promise.

I put my tongue into her mouth, and I could tell that she was a little surprised.

We French kissed, every once and a while. But the thing was that French kisses were reserved for the bedroom.

To lunge my tongue into her mouth as part of a kitchen kiss well, that was something new.

It was new.

And exciting.

She got into it.

She pressed her lips more firmly against mine, and the full warmth of them, and the way they seemed to melt in yielding to mine, and the way she started to stroke her finger tips lightly against the hair on the back of my neck well, I tell you, it made me want her like never before.

And it let me know that she wanted me too.

She put her tongue into my mouth now, and our tongues seemed to flow back and forth between our mouths, like a warm, liquid current of flesh.

I ran my hands down her slim, shapely back while I kissed her and kissed her until I couldn't tell whose lips were whose or whose tongue was whose.

And I didn't care if I ever found out; didn't care if I ever got mine back again. With the sexy things she was doing to my lips and tongue the loving little lickings, the wicked little nibbles she could have them forever and do whatever she wanted with them.

I kept running my hands down her back and down her sides, and now I ran my hands over her ass.

At my touch, she moved in a little closer against me.

Finding this encouragement, I began to squeeze her ass lightly, and to use the petting of her perfect, ripe little ass as an excuse to push her belly against mine.

I guess I really didn't need an excuse.

At my first pressure against her ass, she bent in toward me, like her crotch was burning to rub against mine.

She pushed in toward me, and then she brought her hands down my back, kneading my muscles a little as she went.

She-likes my body. Hell, why be modest. She's been nuts for it ever since we first met.

And it's still not a bad body, even though I'm pushing forty. I keep myself fit, and don't think that I'm lying to you when I say I think I could take on a man ten years younger and beat the tar out of him.

Her hands took their slow, massaging way down my back and my sides, and then they were at my ass, just like mine were at hers.

Except hers weren't as well-mannered as mine were.

She pushed me against her love mound and spread her legs, and rubbed hard against me, like she wanted me inside her right away.

She dug into my ass until I could feel her nails right through my trousers.

"I don't know what's gotten into you, Jim," she sighed, her exitement giving her voice this throaty quality that I hadn't remembered hearing in years, "But now that it's gotten into you, I want to get in me too."

She was looking at me with a naughty look, that kind of look I still remember from my youth: a look that one of those hot little girls in high school would give you.

A look that says, "I know all there is to know about turning a guy on, and I'm going to turn you on so hard, you'll have to do all you can not to cream in your pants."

Of course, those little girlies in high school didn't REALLY know all there was to know about making a guy lose his mind you could still give them a few surprises in addition to the ones they gave you, and that's what made it exciting.

So I decided to give Jane a little surprise.

I reached down and ran my hand up her leg, her leg that was so long and lovely that I could probably come just stroking it, and I kept running my hand up it until there was no place left for my hand to run.

I brought my hand up against her crotch and felt that her panties were wet and hot with excitement, so wet and hot that if I had looked down I think I might have seen steam coming out from under her dress.

I began to finger her slit right through her panties.

Jane moaned and kind of collapsed into me, the shock of arousal that my fingering caused making it hard for her to stand without leaning on me and throwing her arms all the way around me and clutching tight. It turned me on to know that my hand between her lovely long legs excited her so much that her legs went all weak with the thrill fingers tracing up and down her beautiful little slit.

She buried her head against me and kept up her moaning and I looked down and could see that she was biting her lip, maybe to keep from screaming out with the intensity of the stimulation that my fingers toying at her wet snatch were causing.

She was so excited, the excitement was contagious and I had started to wet my pants with that sticky love stuff that comes out a guy when he's turned on as hell.

I could feel myself getting very hard and very wet inside my briefs.

And then suddenly, I wasn't just feeling myself, I was feeling HER feeling how hard and wet I was getting.

She had pressed the palm of her hand firmly against my rising rod, and she began rubbing it round and round with a circular motion across the front of my trousers. She put her mouth to my ear and moaned into it, using the sexiest, throatiest moan I think I've heard in my life, and she breathed with the hottest breath and had ever felt. It was like her breath was stroking my brain, trying to get my mind to come.

"Baby, you're so hard," she crooned in my ear. "I don't know what feels better. Your fingers on my slit, or my hands on your long lovely cock."

When she said that, I nearly swooned to the floor. I was that excited.

Jane can talk dirty better than any woman I ever met, but she only does it when she is so out of her mind with feeling sexy that she doesn't have any mental energy to waste on being self-conscious.

When she starts talking dirty, I know that all her energies, her every thought will be directed to bringing on her come and mine.

I reached under the elastic leg band of her panties to finger her beautiful little cunt directly.

I didn't have to fumble to get to it. Her panties were so wet that actually all I did was slide my hand up along the inside of her thigh, and suddenly the next thing my fingers knew was that they were being warmly and wetly mouthed by the nice, full lips of Jane's adorable cunt.

Maybe you haven't heard the word "adorable" applied to a cunt before. But then you've never seen Jane's cunt before and if I can help it, you never will. Lick and suck and kiss in the full light of day and think nothing except how much I loved it.

I was running two fingers deep along her slit, and her slit was twisting a little bit on them, trying to maximize the teasing contact with her tender pussy flesh that was driving her crazy.

"Oh baby, baby, I'm so hot between my legs. I need something to cool me down. I need something to shoot some of that soothing cream up my hot love hole." I could feel her fingers at my fly.

She opened my fly and reached and pulled out my cock.

God, was my cock glad to be out of my pants. I think it actually lept into her hand.

"Oh, baby, baby, you're creaming already," she said, and she swirled her hand around the head of my cock to get some of the slippery love stuff in her palm, and then she wrapped her fingers around it and started to jerk me gently around.

"Love it baby, love it," she said. "But I don't want you wasting that precious cream. I want every last bit of it. Put it inside me, Jim. Put that thing inside me and let my cunt suck it and suck up every last drop of that sweet cream."

Her words were making me hot enough to come, and her fingers, running up and down my throbbing shaft in a perfect imitation of her tight little love hole, were making me even hotter: I needed to do something to take my mind off my cock. Her hot little hand knew exactly how to stroke my hard, how to caress and tickle it and torture it until it filled with come from balls to its frothing tip, and then when she had me as come-ready as I could be, she knew how to speed up her fist-fucking, and give the quick, insistent, fuck-like jerks that would trip the switch and that would have me coming and coming in her hand until I just had to yell with the unbearable intensity of the stimulation, there would be such an overload of pleasure it would be like pain.

Oh, but God, to feel pain like that is a blessing that if I were God, I would bestow it on every man.

So, in order not to shoot my load into her hand, fucking my cock with those long, loving, knowing strokes, I found her burning little clit-button and squeezed it ever-so-gently between two fingers.

I knew that would get her, and for a moment she would let up a little on my cock, because the sensation would flood absolutely every one of her circuits and she would not be able to concentrate on anything but the slippery friction of my fingers on her clit.

She spread her legs a little wider and caught her breath with sharp gasp as I held the hardening clitty in a tender pinch between my fingers.

I moved the erect little rod around and around, using the same motion she had used to rub my cock through my trousers.

God, was it working.

She began panting so fast that I was a bit worried she might pass out.

She began squeezing her thighs together to feel more of my caressing fingers against the inside walls of her cunt slit.

She was moving that round little ass that I loved with a screwing motion as I kept up jacking off her clit rod as it were a tiny cock.

Her nails were digging into my back, hard. I was glad that I still had my shirt on.

She was so turned on that she was almost crying.

Her pussy was so ready to be fucked, that she was leaking love juice down the sides of both her widely spread legs.

"Jimmy, Jimmy, fuck me fuck me fuck me," she cried. She laughed an almost desperate laugh and pounded my back with her fists. "If you don't fuck me, dammit, there's going to be a puddle at my feet!"

She reached down and took my other hand and put it to her pussy.

"Alright, if you're just going to drive me crazy, at least put something up my hole. If I can't have cock, then give me your fingers."

"okay, honey, anything you say," I said, and I slipped two fingers up her burning, twisting little twat.

I thrust them up her fast and hard, so that one second they were at the trembling lips of her pussy, and the next second they were all the way up her hungry hole.

"Ah!" she cried at the sensational shock of the sudden movement, "Oh that's just like cock ... just like cock! Fuck me, fuck me Jimmy!" And she slid down the slippery stick of my two fingers, bouncing her ass up and down, fucking on to me like she was lust-crazy, fucking down on my fingers and screwing her tight twat around them like they were the perfect food for her hungry cunt mouth.

My fingers didn't really satisfy her that much. She was doing it to tease me, just like I was teasing her.

I didn't know immediately that she was teasing, but her next words were the giveaway.

"I'm going to come baby, my pussy is going to come all over your fingers, and after I come, I'm not going to want your cock. You just try and put it in me after I come. You won't get one inch of it in me, I swear."

She reached down for my cock again and began to jack me off with those strokes that made the whole length and thickness of my throbbing, straining cock flesh ripple and thrill with the burning hot tickle of her teasingly loose fist.

"And I'm not even going to whack you off, baby, not even going to let you come in my fist. 'Cause after I come, I won't want anything to do with your prick. I won't have any use for it."

And then she drove her hips down even harder on my fingers and pretended that she was beginning to come.

"Oo! Oo! Oo!" she cried, "I'm coming, coming, going to come! Do it harder, baby, Shove it up harder!"

And then she stopped her twat-humping over my fingers buried so hotly in her hungry, gripping, dripping wet little snatch. She flashed me a broad smile.

"Now or never, lover," she said. "Your last chance before my pussy gives the fuck of a lifetime to your fingers instead of your cock."

All the while she was talking, she was whipping her hand over the length of my cock, rubbing my pounding hard flesh with such a faster light friction that I felt my prick would either burst with come or burst into flame.

"Last chance, lover," and she began to grind down on my fingers again, slowly at first, and then faster and faster.

"Last chance, lover," she said, looking at me with such a hot glance, it was like a magnifying glass focusing sunlight on my eyes, trying to burn them out of my head.

Then she stopped fist-fucking my frothing cock, wrapping both her arms around me so that she could hang from my neck as she slid her love slit down over my fingers.

Well, she had me where she wanted me.

She knew and I knew that I had to get into her pounding, twisting, sucking little love box-I had to get my come-filled cock flesh deep into her throbbing wet twat.

Well, she had controlled the timing of our love making, so I figured it was only fair that I should have a say as to the place.

In keeping with the craziness that was taking control of me that day, I decided that I wanted my wife on the kitchen table.

She had put the tablecloth on the table, and a large bowl filled with lettuce.

There was nothing else on the table.

So I picked her up, and moving the lettuce bowl to one corner of the table, I laid her out on it and spread her legs.

It took her a while to figure out what I was doing and where she was, and by that time I had pulled my pants down and was starting to crawl on top of her.

Suddenly, she became aware of what was happening, and she had a resurgence of that feeling that she was in the company of a madman.

"Jim! No!"

"Yes!"

"Jim " and hear she looked around, all at once realizing that it was still daylight and that all the windows in the kitchen were unshaded as they could be, "Jesus! Jim, all the neighbors have to do is look in the window-"

"And they'll get a treat," I said. "Don't you like our neighbors? Don't you think they deserve a treat?"

"Jim Cal could come home from practice any second."

"We'll hear him."

"No, Jim, this is nuts!"

"It was nuts before. I didn't hear you complaining when I had my fingers all the way up your twat and you were screwing them like a lust-mad minx."

"Well, you, you caught me off guard! You made me crazy! But I'm totally sane now!" She started to sit up and pulled her skirt down.

I pushed her down again and lifted her skirt, and began to slide her thoroughly sodden panties down her legs.

She didn't put up as much fight as I expected.

Let's face it, it's pretty hard to slide a girl's panties down her legs when she doesn't want you to.

But she kept talking as if she was acting as the epitome of rational behavior, and as if I was the demented lech.

I let her talk.

"Jimmy, they'll see us! We'll ruin the table cloth!"

She was getting down to pretty flimsy excuses, I noted, and I slid my pants down to my knees and maneuvered myself between her legs on the table as she lay with her legs spread wide, one hanging over each side of the table, her shoes still on.

I looked down at her pussy, and it was so pink, so wet, so red-hot, so excited and exciting that I had to have a taste of it before fucking her.

I bent my head down toward her snatch, and she gasped in anticipation of the feel of my tongue running up and down her damp, satiny pink slit.

As I lowered my head slowly toward it, slowly than I had to, just to make her hotter for it, she arched her hips up to meet my mouth, so that it wouldn't take so long to get her sweet hot meat into my mouth.

The sight of that dewy little love mound arching up toward me, wanting my mouth even more than my mouth wanted it, made me get right down to cases.

I cupped my hands under the cheeks of her ass, and brought my face right down to her beautiful, brown-haired bush.

"Oh, oh my Jimmy," she cried, as I licked tenderly up and down the length of her pulsating love canal. She tried to spread her legs even wider even though they wouldn't go any wider and she reached down her hands to tangle them in my hair, urging me to take even more of her aching love organ into my mouth.

I licked over her horny little clit rod, and it was like a little tongue licking me back.

She was grinding her ass up toward me now, it was all I could do to keep the hot round cheeks in my hands.

I plunged down on her then, pressing the entire surface of my lips firmly against the entire surface of her cunt lips.

She squirmed frantically under the incredible stimulation of this deep, overwhelming cunt kiss.

Then I stuck my tongue as far as it would go into her ever-so-ready fuck hole.

She simply couldn't take any more.

"Oh Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy, give me cock, give me cock now!"

She reached down to grab for my cock, even though she couldn't reach it from her position.

I wanted her to reach it, so I changed my position.

I lowered myself over her and at last pressed my belly against hers, sliding my cock through the length of her lovely pussy slit as if I was inside her, stimulating her clit with the equally stimulated underside of my throbbing prick..

She reached down to put my prick up into her pussy. She had had enough of this playing around. Now she wanted to be fucked, good and hard and as long as we both could last.

No objections from me.

She guided the dripping head of my bulging prick to the luscious lips of her pussy, giving it a few more loving strokes down its length with her fist as if to make sure that it was a long and as hard as it could get.

She needn't have worried, but it felt damn grand all the same.

"Push, lover, push that big prick up my hole," she said, so softly it was almost a whisper, and she looked in my eyes so sexily, I thought I'd come right then.

I managed to hold myself back, and a brought my hips down over hers, bringing my burning rod into the wonderful wetness of her cunt hole.

She pushed her pelvis down, slipping her cunt mouth over my cock as I thrust into her. We both moved slow, though, because that first contact between cock and pussy was so wetly, warmly, suckingly delicious.

Her cunt was so clinging, so tight around my entering cock that my prick felt wide and long as the longest and widest prick ever created.

It was also the horniest hard-on any man had I ever had, I swear to God.

"Awww, baby," Jane cried as I plunged up her little love box to the hilt and she ground the mouth of her cunt down so far on my pre-come coated pole that I could feel the lips of her pussy nibbling warmly at my balls.

She pulled my head to hers and we French kissed until our mouths melted together, and slowly I began pulling my prick out of her and pushing it back in, and her cunt felt so wonderful as it gripped in its hot wet sucking kiss my frothing cock, that every time I fucked into that amazing love box, it felt like it was parting her pussy flesh with the head of my cock for the first time.

"Oh Jim, more of that cock, lover. More of that sweet hard hot cock meat up my pussy. Ram it, lover. Please, do it hard," she said, pouring the words in my ear and it was like she was blowing steam right through my brain.

I put my hands under her ass and jammed my meat up into the thirsty, twisting, humping, sucking pussy of hers as hard as I thought she could take.

She screamed, and I thought it was with pain, but immediately after the scream, she shouted, "Oh, that's so good, my lover, that so good. like that Jim, just like that, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me ... "

And she kept chanting "fuck me fuck me," tossing her head from side to side, making her hair dance on her shoulders.

I wanted to see those shoulders. I wanted to see her wonderful tits.

I wanted to suck those tits while I fucked her. She loved it when I did.

And I loved it when I did.

So while I kept moving my meat in her, feeling it lather up even more with my love stuff, and feeling her hot juices running down all around the head of my frothing prick, I undid the buttons of her blouse.

I'm not good at detailed work when I get excited. I tore about half the buttons off the front of her blouse and they clattered to the floor.

I wondered if she'd be mad at me, but she smiled at me and said, "You animal" and she moved that amazing and ever-so-hungry pussy down and down and down on my shaft like she wanted that slicing hot meat all the way up through her body.

You heard that expression, "to fuck your brains out?"

Well, it's like she wanted me to fuck her brains out. Literally.

I had her blouse open now and her lovely tits pointed up at me with hot, hard, aroused tips that begged to be sucked. I didn't let those beautiful things go begging for long. My mouth was hungry for them.

I brought my wide open mouth down around one of them,-taking as much of the soft breast flesh under the tips in my mouth as I could.

What wonderfully edible titties my wife has! I could eat them and suck them for breakfast, lunch and dinner, not to mention a midnight snack.

She panted with the feel of my sucking on her tits, and her rapid breathing made her tit swell in my mouth so that it filled as my tongue swirled around that hardened nipples, driving her crazy.

She was tearing at my ass with her nails She was yelling my name over and over again, like by saying my name more and more, there would be more and more of me to love and to love her back.

She brought her knees up around me, to help jam more of my meat up into her. She put her heels down on the table, one on each corner.

"Oh, what a fuck, Jimmy, this fuck is a fuck I want to put in my scrapbook," she said, then she laughed. "But it would make all the pages stick together."

She reached down a grabbed my balls trying to force as much cock as she could into her sucking pussy.

She began squeezing at my balls the way she does when she can feel herself beginning to come; she squeezes me to let me know she coming and to squeeze my own come out of my balls and up my shaft so that I'll cream into her while her pussy is clutching and sucking with her own climax.

Her mouth went wide and she wrapped her legs around my ass and arched her back up toward me, pulling me tight against her whole body and especially her cunt.

One of her shoes fell off as we rocked and rocked on the table with our hard and fast fucking. It hit the floor.

She ran her bare foot over my ass and the back of my thigh.

"Jimmy Jimmy, come lover, I'm coming lover, NOW!" she screamed, and she dug into my ass with her nails so hard that a rocketed forward with an incredibly hard thrust into her cunt, so hard I thought she might rip in half.

And she started to come.

"AHHHHHHHH!! ! ! ! " she wailed, and squirmed under me as if she was being burned alive. I guess in a way she was.

"Hot pussy hot pussy, coming coming coming!! " she raved, screwing her love hole around my cock until my prickhead got so hot I knew I'd have to come too.

She was rubbing my balls quickly round and round until they were like fire coals in her hand, and then when I couldn't take that any more, she plunged a finger into my ass-hole, and that was all she wrote.

I came like gangbusters.

My jism started to boil in my balls and it boiled and boiled until it overflowed my ball-sack in a great rush of bubbling, scorching head up my burning shaft.

It was like liquid fire, and I wanted to shoot it, had to shoot or explode, shoot it shoot it shoot it up her loving wonderful tight sucking screwing wet hot coming cunt oh God, Jesus, I was shooting everything I had and then more.

"You beautiful fucker, you beautiful bitch!" I shouted at her as I pumped more and more of my come stuff into grasping sucking pussyflesh, and her hole swallowed up my come, I felt it swallowing and gulping like crazy, wanting come and more and more come in its insatiably hungry mouth, a mouth sliding hard and fast up my flesh pole, down and down and down again on my raging and spurting prick.

"Oh oh oh oh Jane!" and wheezed as she cupped both hands to my balls to make sure all the come in my sack was squeezed up my pounding prick and slot out my cock slit into her coming, gulping cunt.

"Ahhhhhhhh!" we said with a long drawn out moan, half of this earth and half of heaven as we seemed to shoot up into the clouds and the magic carpet of our own bodies carried us on a blissful ride to some Never-Never Land of fulfillment and joy.

The sound of the front doorknob turning reminded us that we weren't in Never-Never land, but on the kitchen table, fucking our brains out.

I lept off Jane and pulled up my pants.

She swung around on the table and pulled down her skirt and closed the front of her blouse with her hand.

I swept up her panties and put them in my pocket just as Calvin came striding into the kitchen.

"When do we eat?" I think was what he started to say when he noticed that the scene in front of him wasn't the usual "getting dinner ready" kitchen scene.

For one thing, his mother was sitting on the table and half the buttons from her blouse were lying on the floor, as was one of her shoes.

"Hi Cal," Jane said, sounding amazingly normal as she moved the bowl of lettuce over the come spot we had left on the kitchen table.

"I'm going to go dress for dinner," she said, picking her shoe up off the floor as she turned and darted out of the room.

Which of course left me with Cal.

I guess I looked pretty flushed.

I remembered something, and jammed my hands into my pocket to try and camouflage my still very obvious hard on.

I hope I had done it in time.

I think Cal knew something funny was going on, but I think what he though was that we were having an argument-a heated argument.

Cal's a sharp kid though, and he might have figured it out.

In any case, Jane and me started doing crazy things like that a lot, screwing all different times a day and in all sorts of places that were ... a little strange.

The thing was, from that day we were just like young lovers again. I guess Jane had been as ready as I was for a rebirth of romance that day that I came in and found her looking so great with that new haircut.

So we more or less had to get away. We wanted to be with each other, and as much as we love Cal, well, we wanted to be alone for a while without worrying about when he would stick his nose in or when he would give us the delight of letting us share one of his adolescent traumas.

So a second honeymoon was the only way.

So as soon as school broke, we sent Cal off to Aunt Chloe in Chicago, and we got on a big silver bird and flew to Las Vegas for two weeks of nothing but each other which for us meant nothing but pure bliss.

CHAPTER TWO

Jesus! It was nutsville on the home front, and I was kinda glad just ta get my butt out of there!

Mom and Dad all of a sudden got well, I don't know WHAT they got, but whatever they got, they got it bad.

Bad isn't the word.

Let me explain it to you.

One day I came home from basketball practice, you know, a hard session just whipping that ball through the hoop, and by the time I get home, I'm beat and all I want is a chance to sit down and get some grub into my gut.

So I come home and this weird noise coming from the kitchen, like there's a couple folks bein' tortured to death, makes me kinda creep up quiet like a cat to see what the hell is cuttin' looses.

And what the hell to I see but dad lying on the table gettin' himself a little practice puttin' the ball through the hoop.

I couldn't believe he'd carry on that way with Mom, so I waited to see just who the hell the broad was that he was humpin' on, and you coulda knocked me over with a feather. Shit you wouldn't have even needed a feather. You coulda just breathed on me and I woulda slammed down on the floor like a sack of horseshit.

Christ, I didn't even really think my folks DID IT any more! I mean, that's logical, right? Sure when they're young, you expect them to mess around a little bit, but after a certain it point, don't you think you have a right to expect them to tighten up their act and start acting like responsible adults?

And here they were goin' at it like they were a couple rabbits!

I think I should have been disgusted.

But ya know, for old codgers, they weren't half bad at it.

It looked fun. Looked sexy even.

Well, I figured the last thing they wanted was me poppin' round the corner, findin' them goin' to it like they were maniacs, so I went back outside and cooled my heels until I figured ANYONE would have been finished, even the couple with the Olympic record for long distance, and I go in there and damn if they aren't just finishing up.

Geez, maybe a guy CAN learn SOMETHING from his parents after all.

This time when I went in, I crashed around like I was a hard core juvenile delinquent vandalizing the place.

So, by the time I got to the kitchen, they had almost gotten their act together.

Almost.

Dad was still as hard as rock, and Mom couldn't seem to get her blouse to stay closed.

And there's this whopping come spot in the middle of the tablecloth oh, not that huge I guess, just about the size of Lake Michigan.

It was pretty weird, trying to eat dinner and ta keep my eyes and my mind off that big damp spot.

Mom tried to keep the salad bowl over it, but the salad bowl didn't begin to cover it it was like one of them tiny toy derbys that don't even try to cover a clown's head but just kinda perch there for comic effect.

The effect of the come spot wasn't all that comic though. It made me just a little ill.

When I reached for the salad bowl, Mom slapped my hand and said she'd dish me some out, so she went and got a salad serving fork (bet it's the first time it was ever even USED) and dished me some out.

Boy, that was a laugh.

And from that night on, things got weird, like these guys weren't my parents at all, but a couple of sex mad kids.

Finally, it got so bad they decided they needed a second honeymoon.

They decided on Las Vegas.

I don't know why they had to go to Las Vegas for their honeymoon.

Shit, they seemed to be doing just DANDY in the kitchen.

I can't even bring my mind to touch on what they must have been doing in the bedroom.

So over break, they shipped me off to Chicago to stay with Aunt Chloe.

I tried to convince them that I was mature enough to stay by myself, but there was no soap there. They were scared that I'd use the empty house for evil purposes like bringing in helpless young girls and givin' them the royal skin treatment.

Well, of course they were right, but if I were laying a girl I'd be more mature about than they were.

You can bet I'd screw her on a nice soft bed and not on some damn kitchen table.

So, there I went to Chicago to visit dear Aunt Chloe, which was a real laugh 'cause I didn't really remember her worth shit anyway.

I seemed to remember she was okay, and not bad looking for an aunt, considering that when you have an aunt you automatically expect that she'll have this big saggy tits and breath that make an onion start to cry.

So okay, there I am, taking this elevator up to the top of this deluxe highrise, my tacky suitcase in one hand and my raggy looking jean jacket in the other, and everything I'm wearing has a hole in it somewhere, as I'm not and never have been the world's snazziest dresser.

And my hair's greasy, and I'm feeling vaguely like shit, 'cause the bus ride into Chicago (shit, you think my parents are gonna spring for plane fare for their kid simply because THEY are taking one of them luxurious Boeing 727's all the way to Las Vegas? That's a laugh) was rough as a rodeo and all I want to do is stretch out in a bathtub and try and forget that I'm alive for a while.

The door of the elevator opens and I'm right in the hallway to Aunt Chloe's penthouse (it's the only apartment on the floor which means basically that it IS the floor).

There's someone there to take my bag, and that's when I remember that Aunt Chloe has two daughters, Linda and Andrea.

I also remember they are as snotty as hell.

What makes me remember this is that standing there to greet is the one I remembered being called Andrea.

Well, she didn't exactly greet me.

She looked me up and down like she thought that the elevator had delivered me straight up from hell, and then she said, "Mom is expecting you. C'mon."

Then she turned without another word and led me through the hall, and through another doorway into the largest living room that I had ever seen.

"Your room is down that hall, the second door on the left," she said, not even turning to look at me, walking away with her nose up in the air like this penthouse wasn't high enough for her she still had trouble breathing the air that was so close to earth. I guess she had reason to be so stuck up.

She was gorgeous.

Gorgeous like the girls in those magazines that make you sorry that you're alone and have only yourself to play with when you're looking at them.

She had long, blonde hair, that swung almost as much as her round little ass did when she walked.

And she had these pear-shaped tits, that looked ripe enough to ... well, you get the picture. There was just enough of them that if you were so lucky as to get your mouth around one of them, it would fill your mouth and still leave a little for your hand to play with. Generous tits.

To bad she wasn't anywhere near as generous as they were.

All things considered, I thought as she walked away, if I were to think of the ten girls in the entire world I wanted to lay, she'd be one of them.

I turned my head, and then I saw another one of them.

It was Linda.

I had started down the hall that led to my room when she walked from the bathroom across to her room, slamming her door behind me.

In between the time she left the bathroom until the time she got to her room and shut the door, I saw quite a lot of her.

It wasn't that it took her a long time to get from the bathroom to her room.

It was that her room was next to the one that I was to have, and that her path took her right in front of me, and that she wasn't wearing a thing.

Not a goddam thing!

Except a lot of beautiful, beautiful skin.

She shot me a glance as she went by, not a shy glance or an embarrassed glance.

It was more like a glare that said, "How dare you be in this hall when I decide that I want to walk to my room naked!"

As if it was my fault she was naked as the day she was born (or more naked, 'cause there was a hell of a lot more to her).

She was a lot different in looks from Andrea.

She had dark hair, it looked black, but maybe it was real dark brown. I'm not sure. I had better things to look at than her hair.

Her skin was light, nearly white, which made a neat contrast with her long hair as it streamed down her body.

As far as tits, well, she didn't have much in the way of MASS to brag about, but she had the CLASSIEST set of little boobs that I think I ever saw.

They were high up on her, and they were small white cones, like of vanilla ice cream, and they had these pretty little cherries that stuck out on top.

I swear that's exactly what they looked like. The nipples really stuck out too, and they were really cherry red, which made them look sexy as hell as they kinda peeped through her long dark hair, like they were so hot they would probably just burn through anything they touched.

I don't think I ever wanted to get my mouth and my hands on anything so bad in my life, that's the truth. Hope I'm not grossin' ya out, but I'm a young fella, and I want to be honest about what goes through my mind.

And those tits on the Lovely Ms. Linda, shit, they're the stuff that dreams are made of! I never liked vanilla ice cream before, but after I saw those tits, for days afterward I found myself in one ice cream place after another, lappin' up them cones.

And the people behind the counter always looked at me funny when I said, "Could I have a cherry on top, please?"

"On a CONE?" they would ask. "People just don't get cherries on top of CONES!"

But I always insisted.

I got more to tell you about the lovely Linda, but I'm gonna save that for the finale of this chapter.

I know when I'm reading something or watching a movie, I always go in for a strong finish, so I figure I should put this down like it was something I'd maybe not think was too bad if I read it.

So before we get to Linda (and believe me, I'm just as hot to get to Linda as YOU are) there's a few things I gotta get out of the way first.

I want to describe that penthouse just a little more, and describe to you my Uncle Jerry (that won't take too long, he doesn't have much that's worth describing he's a jerk) and then I have to describe to you my Aunt Chloe and that won't take too long either. Not because she isn't worth describing in RACY detail, but because when I get on the subject of that particular lady, words kinda fail me.

Now, first that penthouse. That place was like a goddam museum. I mean it.

All the walls were white even the bedrooms and the bathrooms and on every single wall there were paintings.

And these weren't those kind of paintings that you send in boxtops for or that you buy for a measly twenty-five or fifty bucks from joker hawking his stuff on the sidewalk like he was selling sausages.

No sir, not these paintings.

These paintings were all by people whose names you'd know for sure if I told them to you, only I can't tell them to you because I don't remember the names.

I'm not what you call one of the foremost art scholars in the U.S. of A.

When it comes to all that modern painting crap, all I can think of when I look at those scribbles and squibbles and splatters that look like the guy ate something exotic and then threw up, all I can think of when I look at that shit is that the guys at my high school that draw all that weird stuff on the inside of the stalls in the boys room with their Flairs and magic markers they're wasting their time.

All they gotta do is stop drawing stuff that you can sorta figure out what it is (I mean like, you know, those really rude drawings of tits and cocks and all that) and start drawin' stuff that you can even begin to figure out what it is and then they'd have something.

Maybe all it takes for one of them bathroom artists to become really famous is that he gets his head bashed in for writing something really obscene some day, and this causes him to lose some of his (already precious few) IQ points.

So at this point, he's a TOTAL moron and now he's got everything he needs to be a modern painter.

All of which is to explain to you why I can't give you the names of the jokers that painted all those scribbly drawing that hung all over the walls of my aunt's penthouse.

And besides, with all that INCREDIBLE tits and ass just waltzing around that place, I'm s'posed to be bent over with a magnifying glass try in' to see who the hell painted something that looks like his fountain pen leaked?

No way.

What else about the penthouse?

Well, the layout was kinda interesting.

There was that huge central living room that I came into when I got off the elevator.

It was so big that even with all the jazzy contemporary (that stuff was so contemporary, it looked like the time for it hadn't even COME yet, and I kinda hope it never does) furniture they had in it, it still looked like a furniture warehouse after a clearance sale, with nothing left except the really weird things that no one wanted.

And going off this STUPENDOUS living room, there were four hallways.

Each of the hallways led to one wing of the house.

And each wing of the house was the territory of one of my beloved relatives.

Uncle Jerry had the gray wing (they told me it was really a shade of blue, but it looked gray to me) and that really matched his personality (or his lack of it).

Andrea had the yellow wing, may be because it matched her hair.

Linda had the pink wing. It was HOT pink. And that really matched Linda's personality. (More on that later I'm a man of my word.)

And Aunt Chloe had the burgundy wing.

Why burgundy?

I think I figured that out.

I certainly had time to figure it out.

And what I came up with was that if red is the color of sin (and authorities tell me that it is, except that I wonder, do Cardinals wear red robes, and is that why they're called Cardinals? Feel free to call me long distance on this one if you have the answer) then burgundy is the color that sin turns to when it REALLY starts to get decadent.

And burgundy is a RICH shade of red.

So burgundy is the perfect color for rich people who are steeped in decadence (hope I spelled that right, big words aren't my strong point). .

And that's why burgundy is the perfect color for my Aunt Chloe.

Not that I mean to give you a bad impression of Aunt Chloe.

I like her.

I like her a lot, for reasons I may or may not tell you depending on how much I figure I want to let out about ... about things that happened between her and me.

But the fact is that my dear Aunt Chloe is rich and I think she got a little too rich too fast, so that she is, I don't know, steeped in decadence (once you pick up a big word you always seem to use it, did you notice that? It's not so much that you want to impress people, it's that it always just seems the PERFECT word for every occasion).

Aunt Chloe and from here on out, I'm just calling her Chloe, because I know her pretty good, and she tells me always, "Just call me Chloe," and on top of that it is the ultimate drag to have to say "Aunt" every time I say "Chloe" so from her on out you'll REMEMBER I'm sure that she's my aunt, it won't cause you half the pain in the butt to remember that as it would cause me to keep saying it over and over, so that's the way we'll play it, and that's it. 'Nuff said.

Chloe.

Geez, she's incredible.

She was amazing even when she was a little kid.

She was smart as a whip and she knew what she wanted.

She grew up with my mom, of course, and so I know what her childhood was like.

It was like shit.

A lot like shit.

In fact, I'd be tempted to say that it WAS shit.

Chloe and my mom grew up in this crappy house that was in the positively worst part of this shitty little city in New Jersey.

Mom took me to see the house once when we were in New Jersey to see some of her family, but the house wasn't there.

As near as anyone could remember, a couple of kids had burned it down with a can of gasoline just for fun once.

It had been vacant for years and nobody seemed to miss it much, even though there was nothing on the lot but burnt out scraps of wood and a lot of weeds.

But mom cried a little. Not that she had such hot memories of that old dump herself, but she's really a sentimental slob for stuff like that.

Anyways, Chloe grew up like mom in that shitty house, and their father was a REAL tuna fish. He used to get drunk and beat up everybody in the house, including the kids and the cat.

Once he even beat up the goldfish. He only got to do that once, because it croaked.

Goldfish aren't noted for their staying power.

Chloe, from the time she could open her eyes, she knew she wanted to get out of that place.

And damn if she didn't. I really have to admit that my mom did alright. She married my dad, and he's one hell of a guy (five THOUSAND times the man that Uncle Jerry is).

But Chloe wanted the finer things in life, and you got to admire her, cause that's exactly what she got in spades.

She met Jerry when she was sixteen, and she had her hooks into him so deep by the time she was seventeen, that he had to get engaged to her, even though his daddy threatened to cut him out of the will if he did.

But that was before daddy met Chloe.

Jerry's daddy was even crazier over Chloe than Jerry was, and Chloe turned Jerry into an absolute goony bird for her.

So they were married when Chloe was eighteen, and Jerry was I don't know how old. Somehow I think Jerry was always the same age: about two weeks this side of senility.

Shit and horse feathers! I haven't told you all I wanted to tell ya, but I'm tired of writing. I'm not what ya call a man of letters.

But I promised ya Linda for the finale, and I'm gonna give ya Linda in all her hot pink glory.

Now I'm doin' this even though I gotta skip some other stuff I wanted ta tell ya, so you guys out there just better be grateful!

This thing that happened, happened that first night that I was at the penthouse.

I had made myself real cozy in my room, and I was lying there, reading one of the classier hot magazines that Jerry had sitting out on the coffee table in the living room.

You wanna know the name of the magazine?

Penthouse, of course.

Well, I was lying there reading it ( no kidding, I was READING it I mean they do have articles in there, after all), and I hear this humming noise coming from somewhere out in the hall.

I wasn't loud, not like a vacuum cleaner or nothin, just this low, soft hum like there's a Hare Krishna freak doin' his "OOMMMMMMMM" bit outside my door.

It wasn't an irritating sound, but it was just enough noise to tickle my curiosity (which is the second most tickle-able part of my person).

So I got up and I opened my door and looked down the hall.

The noise was coming from the bathroom, and the bathroom door was open a little ways, and a little line of light was angling from the crack. I followed that line of light to the door.

Now why was I so curious about the noise, you ask.

Well, I was curious about Linda, and from the description I gave you of her glorious bod, if you have to ask why, you shouldn't be reading this book.

And see, she and me ... well, we didn't hit it off real good.

I saw her a couple of times that day, but she was just darting from one room to another and she didn't even look at me if she could avoid it.

I wanted like hell to see her, but she didn't want anything to do with me.

The reason was that she was miffed and double miffed that SHE was the one that had to share her wing of the house with THE CREEPY RELATIVE (that's me) while everybody else still had their wing all to themselves.

So I guess the way she decided to handle this disgusting situation was that she was going to ignore me, and pretend that I really wasn't there at all.

That way, she'd still have the wing all to herself and me, I'd just be the invisible man.

So now, when I saw another chance to get a glance of her, and maybe if I worked it right, an actual chance to COMMUNICATE with Her Highness, I jumped at it.

Well, I didn't really jump at it.

I sneaked at it.

I edged up to the door, and I peeked in to see what I could see of this young female marvel.

I saw a lot more than I expected.

She was wearing a bathrobe and it was hanging loosely open so that it still hid her perfect boobies (I could form a fan club dedicated to those tits!) but her beautiful, bushy little beaver was plainly visible. It was a nice enough sight to make my heart fly into my pants. She was holding the humming thing in her hand.

At first glance, it looked like a toothbrush, one of those imagine electric kind you'd expect would be standard equipment for rich people.

But I noticed that she didn't seem quite sure how to use it. She was holding it different ways to find the best grip.

Then I saw that there was a box on the counter by the sink. It was a new toothbrush, and she was just figuring out how to use it.

Except that it wasn't a new toothbrush at all.

It was a new vibrator.

And she was figuring the best way to hold it when she rammed it up her little box. OH GOD!

My knees went weak. I prayed and prayed that she wouldn't go to the door and lock it. She didn't.

She was absorbed in what she was doing.

She stood in front of a full-length mirror and leaned back against the wall.

She spread her legs a little, and stood there, looking herself up and down, like she loved what she saw.

I sure loved what I saw.

She had nothing on but that hot pink terry cloth bathrobe and a matching pair of pink sandals that had laces that went halfway up her beautiful, slender calves.

And there she was, those perfect, slim legs spread so that formed a wide angle that pointed right up to her fuzzy-thatched love box.

You know how some girls have legs that seem to exist just to lead your eye right up to their pretty little slits?

Well, Linda had just those kind of legs.

They took your eye all the way up their slim calves and all the way up their lusciously widening thighs until there was no more lusciously widening thigh to look at, and you were looking at their sweet, sweet little fuck slit.

And now Linda's hands were following the path that my eyes had taken.

She had put the vibrator down on the counter, and was running her hands up the side of her thighs, as if she couldn't believe how soft and yielding and wonderful they felt.

She caressed them, watching her hands as of she were mesmerized, as if it were some one else who was stroking her thigh flesh and making her all hot.

And she was getting turned on.

She opened her mouth wide to let out a sigh, and she kept her mouth open wide, as if she didn't want to shut it, because any minute she was going to start breathing fire.

She licked her lips, her wicked little tongue moistening the ' whole, red-hot rim of her mouth until her lips glistened.

She kept moving her tongue like that, and opening her mouth wider and then closing it a little, like she was hungry for something, hot and oh-so-hungry and horny for something to suck on.

Her hands were stroking the insides of her thighs now, running up and down sort of quickly, like she was trying to soothe the fire that was growing there.

She wasn't having much luck.

Her hands moved faster and faster and she began to pant, her lovely round boobies begining to really heave beneath the material of her robe.

They wanted to come out and play, and GOD! I was hoping that she'd let them.

She spread her legs wider and bent down to look at her pussy, taking her hands away from her thighs.

She looked down at her bush that was beginning to sparkle with her juice right in the area over her luscious little slit.

She smiled, and she snaked her hand down her belly, taking time to caress the firm flesh of her tummy.

She was proud of her figure, and proud of that flat little tummy.

Her hand came to the end of her belly, and she started toying with the beginnings of her curly cunt hair.

She combed her fingers through the hair and preened it like she just given it a permanent and she thought it looked lovely.

And shit, it did.

Her fingers moved through it lovingly, as lovingly as any boy's fingers, and then she began tracing one finger, her index finger, over the full, protruding little lips of her cunt.

She let out another sigh, almost a gasp, and spread her legs even further so she was almost doing the splits as she leaned back against the wall.

Then she took her whole hand and cupped her cute little cunt in it, and she moved her hand over and over it, moving up and down, up and down, until her pussy juice was really running and I could see some if trickle through her fingers as .she began moaning through her panting breaths.

Her legs were strained with being so far apart, and I could see the muscles in the thighs standing out with the strain of trying to open her pussy as much as she could to her caressing hand.

I was hard and I could feel a little cream in my pants already when she finally took her hand away from her cunt.

I could see a lot more pussy flesh than I could see before.

She was real excited now and the lips of her delicious hot pink pussy were full, and they were opening like the most beautiful pink rose I've ever seen.

She took two finger and ran them up and down the slit of her cunt, getting them as deep in there as they would go, and twisting those fingers around in there as she started saying "Oooo oooo oooo!" like she had found something fanstastic in there and she didn't want to drop it.

When she started working on her clit, I thought I was going to shoot my wad, and that it would torpedo right out of my pants and land smack on that delectable, juicy little teenage twat.

I had to remind myself that Linda was only seventeen.

She looked more like a woman than most women that have reached their full prime.

She spun her fingers round her twat until they were just a blur of whitefleash working over the pink flesh now it was turning angry, sexy, horny red of her clitty.

Oh God, I wanted to rush in their and help her!

But she was having just a swell time all by herself.

And now was tit time.

She reached a hand under her robe and began playing with her ripe, pert handful of breast flesh.

She was squeezing it, and rubbing it and fingering the nipple.

As near as I could tell.

She was doing it all under the robe, damn it!

Her fingers were still down between her wide-spread, straining legs, twirling around that clit that was standing out and was a cherry red as I remembered her nipples to be.

With her knowing fingers doing all the things that she really wanted done to her slit and to her tits, she was starting to pant even harder, and she was sweating.

There was silver sweat glittering all over every part of her body that I could see, and there were little rivers of sweat streaming down her forehead and down her cheeks as she closed her eyes tight to shut out anything except the hot sensations that her fingers were stirring up in her clitty and her nipples.

And finally, she was hot enough that she realized she didn't have any need for a goddam terry cloth bathrobe around her shoulders.

She pulled it down over her shoulders and let it slide down her arms to the floor.

And there she was.

All of her.

And those wonderful, gorgeous, incredible, incomparable well, I could go on and on, but there they were. Her tits.

They were lovlier than I remembered 'cause now they were turned on.

Boy, were they turned on.

The tips were so damn hot that there were RED, and I do mean RED, and they stabbed out from between strands of her shiny black her like they were searching hungrily for something to take them in, something to hold them, fondle them, suck them.

I was their man.

I hopped they'd get in touch with me soon.

But for now, Linda had them well in hand.

She cupped her hands over both of them, and her hands were just a little too petite to envelop all of them, so that the mounds of flesh were still somewhat visible as she palmed them and fondled them.

Every once in a while, the hot tips would peek through her fingers at me, and they looked happy at last to have something caressing them and sending thrills through their tips down through her boobs and down down down to her dripping pussy.

And it was dripping.

I could see the dew of it shining all over her bush and even a little bit down the side of her thighs.

Oh Lord God, this woman was so ripe to have a cock plunged into her wet sucking little cunt it was the worst form of torture for a man just to have to stand and look at her and be able to do nothing.

Well, there was something I could do.

There was only one remedy for my agony and I made the best of it.

I'm sure I looked like a total pervert standing out there in the hall with my thing in my hand, but, gosh, I'm a high school kid, what do you expect?

And if you had been seeing what I was seeing, I bet you woulda had your putz in your hand faster than I could say "Farah Fawcett-Majors."

So, I offer no more excuses, and now back to the scene.

She was having so much fun with her tits it was like she had actually forgotten about her pussy for a while.

She was loving them up until those happy little nipples were screaming for joy.

She had proud tits, which is what you would expect from a snotty bitch like that.

They really thrust out and said, "Look at me, ain't I gorgeous."

And they thrust out enough that even though they weren't very big, the Lovely Ms. Linda could take them in her hot, wet little mouth and suck them like the tips were the sweetest strawberry jelly beans in the world.

She cupped her hands on the underside of both of those terrific teenage tits and she bent them up as far toward her mouth as they could go.

It was just far enough so that she could lick at the nipples like she was a sexy kitten lapping up her milk, and then close her lips, still glistening from the way she kept licking them with her hungry tongue, close those sweet re lips around the throbby hot nipples and suck and suck and suck them.

She looked so hot and sexy doing that, just licking and sucking and loving her perfect tits, that I shot my load once already just watching.

But there was more of a show left to come, and there was plenty of time to reload my sex pistol.

She was lickin' them so furiously that if they had been vanilla ice cream, they woulda been long gone by now.

And all the while she was fondling them round and round with her hands like she was shaping them out of clay or something.

Then she was so turned on she had to get back to business and bring herself off.

So she let go of one of her tits like it was the hardest thing she'd ever have to do in her life, and she dropped her hand down to her lovely little teenage love box, which was all juiced up and ready as hell for her fingers.

She put that hand down between those fleshy, straining thighs and she ran ran her long, red-polished fingers up and down that deep pink slit and when she found the clitoris she would swirl those fingers around it at top speed and start moaning like crazy.

Then she would trace over the slit again, up and down, and when she felt her clit had cooled off enough to take it, she would start at it again, rubbing against the hot little thing until her legs would start quivering and it looked like she was gonna drop to the floor 'caus? her legs were so weak from the flood of red-hot passion that was washing over her as she fingered her cunt and fondled her tit.

By this time her love hole musta been just cryin' to-have something stuffed up it, and she wasn't in any mood to let it go begging.

So she let her two fingers run back down her slit from her clitoris and when she was at the rim of her fuck box, she tickled around , the edge of it with her fingertips, just to get herself excited enough so that she could plunge those fingers in hard, without having to be to gentle about it 'cause she was heated up enough that she didn't want to have to bother with any subtle pussy fucking.

She wanted it hard and fast, like it was a guy's cock, a guy that she had turned on so hot with her perfect, incredibly fuckable, lithe, terrifically tittied and perfectly pussied young body.

She loved that body of hers with a passion, and I was sure as I watched her that her fantasy was that she was being fucked by a guy who loved that fantastic bod even more than she did.

And now she took those two fingers that were playing around the rim of her love hole and she plunged them in, hard and deep with one thrust.

"Ahhhhhh!" she cried, throwing her head back and clenching her eyes tight, like her fingers were the most marvelous dick on the most gorgeous lookin' jock in her high school.

And she really started fucking herself.

She thrust those fingers in and out and in and out, and she was bringing her ass down on them like there just wasn't enough of them to give her incredibly hungry pussy what she needed.

Watching her I could really tell that she was imagining that she was being fucked, fucked right as she stood there, leaning back against the wall, looking as hot and turned on as I've ever seen any girl look.

And her hand was working over her tit like it was really really aching and by massaging like mad, she could make that marvelous lust-ache go away.

It was the same thing down at her pussy.

Her fingers were rifling in and out of that panting little wet pussy like she was stoking the hottest most fiery little furnace this side of hell.

In and out and in those fingers went, her ass bouncing up and down like two twin rubber balls, bouncing so beautifully down on her fucking fingers that I damn near shot my stuff again.

But this time, I was determined to hang on for the climax.

And it was coming, so to speak.

She was reaching for that vibrator.

I stopped my hand from jerking up and down my cock, because just the THOUGHT of what she was going to do with that vibrator was enough to make me spurt my jazz.

The vibrator was like nine inches long, and it was light brown, like the cock of a lifeguard with an all over tan.

It was the perfect cock substitute-especially for Linda, 'cause it was made out of plastic.

She switched the thing on.

It made that hum, and her hand shook a little.

I don't think the vibrator would have made her hand shake so visibly.

I just think that she was so hot to get that thing up her twat that she was trembling with anticipation.

She grasped it with her right hand, right at the very bottom so that she could get every possible inch of its quivering length up her dripping pussy.

I had this fantasy for a second.

I thought: what if she's so wet, and so turned on that when she comes she cracks that vibrator with the contractions of her tight coming cunt, and the electrical charge from it zaps up her twat and tingles through all her juices and she electrocutes herself?

It would have been a tragic waste of resources.

But I don't think Linda could have thought of a better way to go. Her epitaph would probably read, "She would have wanted it this way."

To die making fervent love to the person she adored most in the world. How romantic. How fucking romantic.

And now that electric prick was poised at the lips of her cunt.

And, as she watched herself intently in the mirror, she eased that thing up her tight fuck hole, slowly, slowly, slowly, feeling the tremors that rippled through her cunt and felt as dreamy as any cock could ever feel.

She wanted watch that quivering cock-thing push all the way up her twat, so she tried like hell to keep her eyes open.

But the feel of that thing pushing in that hungry, hot sucking hole between her legs and sending vibrations that radiated like little licking flames of lust all up her pussy tunnel and all down her legs and all up her belly and to her breasts ... those feeling were so delicious and so absorbing that she had to keep closing her eyes and the waves of ecstasy engulfed her and washed over her mind so completely that she was totally blind to anything else.

And then she pulled the electric prick back out of her pussy.

It was coated with her juices, it shined like a real prick would that had plunged into that wet and ready hole.

I wished to hell it was my cock!

But I guess my cock was happy just to have me taking care of it the best I could.

I could tell she wasn't going to last long without coming, and that was good, 'cause I sure as hell wasn't going to last long at all.

She had pulled herself together a little so that she could focus on the image of her perfect, proud, naked and fucking self in the mirror.

Keeping her eyes open was an effort, but I guess it was worth it, because being able to watch herself get fucked up her perfect pussy with that better than human cock made her even more excited than she had been before.

She plunged that thing in and out, fast and hard now, fast and hard just the way I would have done it, just the way any guy would have done it after being turned on so hot by the sight of her dripping, come-ready pussy and her proud, hot-pointed firm white tit mounds.

To see a girl fucking herself not like you'd expect to see her working that shaking plastic shaft up her twat you'd expect her to do it sorta slow and lazy but to see her shoving it up her fuck box hard, hard like it was a hard, throbbing, live, come-filled, aching prick of burning, hungry flesh fucking herself like she was being fucked by a man who was using her box as a place to come as hard and fast as he could because if he didn't, he was going to explode seeing that, well, it made my heart pound in my pants, and made it pound so hard I bet if Linda wasn't moaning and sighing and crying with the feel of that cock-thing pushing up her hot wet suck-box that she could have heard the throbbing of my cock.

So I was whacking off like crazy, my hand flying up and down my prick as it stuck out through my open fly, as she pounded that thing into her.

She groaned as she twisted down on it, screwing her hips round and round and the same time she was driving her slit down over and over it, hard as she could.

Her hungry wet hole went down and down and round and round that thing until, plastic or not, I could swear it would come, come in a shower of sparks, shorting out from the heat of her passion.

Her knees were buckling.

She just couldn't stand up any more.

She had to lie down.

So she slid down the wall, just kind of let herself ooze down it, like she wasn't even conscious that it was happening, as she moved that quivering electric fuck-rod in and out of her hole all the while, and fondled that tit like crazy.

And then she was on the floor.

She kept her head leaned back against the wall so that she could still adore herself in the mirror while she fucked her hole.

She put her knees up, bring her heels almost up to her ass as she lay on her back, watching that fuck-thing lunge in into her gaping, sucking, hot pink pussy hole.

Her hand switched tits, and as she began kneading the other one, she started to chant this stuff.

I didn't hear all of it, 'cause it was all in a moaning mumble, and sometime the sound of her turned-on breathing was louder than the words.

It was something like a little kid babbling.

But no little kid could ever talk this dirty.

"Oh fuck me, fuck Lindals. hot hungry pussy," she panted, "Cock, cock, cock, fuck my box and make me come. You come in my box, you long, long, lovely prick. Feel my pussy licking your prick. Ohhhhhhhhh!"

And she said this in perfect rhythm with the fucking of her cunt, saying "Cock, cock, cock," to punctuate every hard thrust into that wide, ready, juicy, pussy that she was trying to stuff full of that hard plastic trembling prick-thing.

Then she arched her round, firm teenybopper ass off that floor, pushing off on her feet to bring her pussy mound up into the air like she was straining against the belly of the guy who was fucking her to rub her slit and clit against his pubic mound.

I think she was so carried away by this time that she really didn't realize there wasn't a big, bronze life guard with a nine inch electric prick fucking her incredibly hot slot, thrusting down on her hard, hard and fast and lust-crazed for her lovely, lithe, writhing, squirming, cock-starved, long legged, ripe-assed, pointy-titted young body.

When she arched up like that and didn't feel anything rubbing against her red-hot clit button, she decided that her hand was more sorely needed there than it was kneading her warm, soft, melting breast flesh and burning tit-tip, so she plunged her hand into her slit, running her fingers up and down the hot pink, bubble-gum soft canal of her cunt until finally settling her fingertips right down on her throbby hard clit.

And once her fingers started playing with that horny red little rod, I knew it was the beginning of the end.

Her fingers fucked at that clit, working it round and round at the speed of light, and her other hand was plunging that prod-rod up her hole all the way all the way!

I couldn't believe it.

Her young teenage box taking nine inches of driving cock.

She must have been the hottest little bitch in Chicago.

"Fuck me harder, fuck me harder! I'm coming! More! More cock!" she yelled, and I knew she was totally gone, totally lost in being fucked by her dream man.

And there she was, splayed open on the bathroom floor in front of that mirror, that trembling cock rod fucking into her with a life of its own, and there I was, with my putz in my palm, fucking myself as hard and fast as she was.

I felt somehow very loving toward her; for a moment I was her lover and I was giving her all I had, not just for my satisfaction, but because I wanted to give that perfectly beautiful kid the come of her life.

And from the load I shot, I think I just might have.

She let out a scream; it was so high pitched that it didn't make much sound like a dog whistle. But even though it wasn't loud, it was the sexiest scream I've ever heard.

She was screaming with pure, electric, coming joy.

She plunged that rod all the way up into her hole, so far that there was no more of it left for her to grip onto.

She lost her grasp on that cock rod as she started to come, so she just clasped both her hands over her pussy, tight, as that electric fuck-thing quivered and shivered up inside her pussy, filling it with its long, round he-man prick dimensions, sending shock after shock of vibrating come-signals up her squeezing, twisting, hot, throbbing, juicy love tunnel.

"Oh Jesus, I'm coming!! ! ! " she yelled, arching up hips up until they seemed well the they way to the ceiling, and wiggling her ass round and round as the cock-think went on shaking a fucking inside of her, totally enveloped by her contracting climaxing cunt.

Try as hard as you can to imagine what that looked like.

'Cause if you can see it in your mind even HALF as well as I saw it, it just might give you the come of your life.

I was shooting more jazz than I thought I had in me, and still I could feel my rod spasming in my hand, jerking even after there was no more come to shoot out my burning flesh shaft.

And Linda came for a long, long, long time too, her hips pointed up at the ceiling like she was frozen there, her hand clenched over her cunt as if they were trying to keep that throbbing, living electric cock from fighting its way out of her oh-so hungry cunt.

She never wanted to let that thing go. But then it was over.

Her hands slid away from her wide, wet, hot pink pussy, and her hips floated back to the floor as the vibrator eased its way out of her cunt.

She pulled the thing that had given her so much pleasure the rest of the way out of her box, and brought it up to her eyes and looked at it.

Then she put it down by her side and covered herself up with her bathrobe and closed her eyes.

She was so exhausted, she drifted off to sleep.

And for some reason, she had tears streaming down her face.

That really kinda floored me.

I mean, to see that the girl had some emotions, even if only when she was sleeping.

I don't know why, but it made me kinda like her.

Hard to explain stuff like that.

CHAPTER THREE

I hate my name. Linda.

It's such a common name.

It isn't beautiful enough for me.

I think a name like "Rachel" would be a lot more fitting.

I know thirteen girls in my high school whose names are Linda, and I hate them all.

Most of them have acne, and the ones who don't are cheerleaders.

Having acne is stupid, and being a cheerleader is even stupider.

But almost everybody at my highschool is stupid.

I hate having to be cooped up in that school with all those kids those CHILDREN.

I'm a woman and I resent being in classes with a bunch of nurds and morons that still act like they're in kindergarten.

I'm only a junior, but I'm going to take these qualifying tests to see if I can skip my senior year and go right to college.

One more year of that rah-rah high school nonsense and I think I may have to be committed.

The men in high school are all so immature. You can't call them men, even. They're still boys.

Even the signs on the restrooms call them boys.

And the signs on our restrooms call us girls. GIRLS!

You can see why I have to get out of there.

I have an exceedingly agile mind.

Several of my teachers have commented that they find me an exceptionally gifted student.

And they find me very mature.

I had to fight off Mr. Logering from Social Studies and Mr. Bigelow from English almost with a stick. They kept trying to keep me after and suggesting that we meet outside of class.

Can you imagine the nerve of these guys. Coming on to me like that!

Which ought to demonstrate how mature an individual I am perceived to be by my teachers.

I don't want you to think that I'm stuck up. I'm not stuck up.

It's just that I have high standards, and most people, being rather average, just can't expect to live up to them.

If I met you, you can be sure I would judge you on your own merits, and I would inform you very frankly whether or hot, after I had time to consider the strengths and deficiencies of your character, I thought that an extended relationship would be mutually beneficial.

I'm a cautious person, which I admit does put people off, especially people in my peer group (i.e., high school juniors and seniors).

When you're young, you're supposed to be devil-may-care and spontaneous, but at seventeen, I don't consider myself young, whereas most of my peers still think of themselves as "youths" and not as adults.

And that is the difference that separates me from most of them.

I am not lonely.

I have never needed a lot of friends.

At the moment, I have no close friends, but I'm sure that's because I'm going through and transitional phase in my maturing process and I'm not sure where suitable friends are to be found.

I read over what I have written, and I think perhaps I am still, all efforts to the contrary, coming across as a snob.

I am sorry if this is the case.

If I seem like a cold and distant sort of individual, allow me to explain that I am as warm and loving as anyone, perhaps I am capable of being more warm and loving than most people.

And that's why I have to be cautious.

You cannot spread your affection around like it was manure.

For one thing, that cheapens it.

And for another thing, if you are a person who really takes things to heart, a person like I am, you have to guard against recklessly involving yourself in relationships where you may be hurt very badly.

I have reason to be cautious.

My mother has set the negative example for me ever since I was an infant.

She spreads her affection around so much that it becomes as thin and transparent as cellophane.

She is kind much of the time, but she is hardly ever sincere.

I don't know to this day if she loves me.

I rather doubt that she does.

She reserves most of her affection for men.

She doesn't have much love for ANY females, even if they happen to be her daughters.

And the thing I find the most unsettling is that her attraction for men is directed mostly toward young men.

Men about my age.

Can you see how disconcerting that is?

The fact is that I find boys of that age disgustingly immature and they are my peers.

I want a relationship with someone who is sensitive, and understanding and knowledgeable and can give me the mature affection that I crave.

My mother is willing to settle with raw sex with teenage morons! I'm no prude. I like sex.

I find it one of the most intensely thrilling experiences there is.

But it should always be connected with a mature, affectionate relationship.

I've had sex that wasn't connected with mature affection, and it was dreadful and degrading.

And thus I vowed that until I find someone mature and affectionate, I will satisfy my own sexual needs as best I can.

I have a very active fantasy life, and I masturbate fairly regularly and I'm not afraid to admit it because I think that it is a mature and healthy alternative to meaningless and loveless sex.

Perhaps you don't think I have any claim to being an authority on meaningless, loveless sex.

I do.

I have seen my mother engaged in it on several occassions, as well as having engaged it in a few times myself.

And now my cousin Calvin has come to visit.

I imagine he'll find my mother (she'll insist that he call her "Chloe" just as if she were a girl his own age) as attractive as the boys that she has lured up here before have found her.

And I'll come home some day, perhaps a little earlier than expected, and I'll find them making love on the living room floor.

Or if she's being discreet, she'll take him into her room, and then I won't have to look at them, I'll only hear there disgusting moaning and groaning.

And he's my cousin, which makes her having sex with him incest.

I realize that's a rather inconsequential concern, but it still serves to make me even queasier than her former relations with young men.

So I've been giving Calvin the coldest shoulder I can.

I feel bad about that, because I usually like to give people a fair chance and have an opportunity to communicate with them and judge them on their merits.

I suppose Calvin is just an average high school senior, and that I wouldn't find that much that was redeeming in his character anyway, but I feel badly about not giving him a fair chance to prove himself all the same.

Perhaps you can anticipate my reasoning in not giving him any chance to become in the least intimate with me.

What if I were to like him?

What if we were to become good friends?

I would come home some day to find him in bed with my mother, and then what would be left of our relationship?

I feel myself to be as liberated as the next person, but once a boy has slept with your mother, it puts any relationship you might have with him on such an unpleasant footing that it isn't worth the bother.

And so, as sorry as I am that Calvin perceives me as a conceited and unfeeling person, I cannot bring myself to let my defenses down only to have my trust and good faith thrown back in my face.

On the day that Calvin arrived, I was walking between the bathroom and my room.

I wasn't expecting him to be standing there.

I didn't have a stitch on.

I think he was as astonished and embarrassed as I was. I saw his face turn bright red.

Fortunately, I was able to minimize my reaction to him and proceed as if nothing unusual had happened.

I possess great poise and reserve.

Still, he must think that I'm terribly eccentric, or a clandestine nymphomaniac.

Or something.

This makes our relationship or rather our "non-relationship" even more awkward than it would be if he merely regarded me as stuck up.

In addition to him thinking that I'm ignoring him because I'm a snot, he also must think that I'm more than a little crazy.

This can't be helped.

I wondering now if I have left you to believe that I am a little paranoid as far as my mother's sexual designs on Calvin are concerned.

I can assure you I am not.

To give you a case in point, I was dating one young man from the high school drama club and when he came to pick me up, and I would be putting finishing touches to my makeup and my hair, my mother would visit with him, and in my innocence, I thought she was just making casual chatter.

You know yakity yak.

I even was such a child as to believe that perhaps she was concerned about him and my relationship with him, and she was performing the motherly duty of checking him out to see of his intentions toward her daughter were honorable.

I should have known that what she was doing was making her own pass at him.

One night, the night of our last date together, they must have set up a rendezvous with each other.

I wasn't to find out that my mother had taken him as her lover for a few weeks after that last date.

All I knew was, was that he lost interest in me, for reasons I couldn't explain. I was rather attracted to his looks and his kind, intelligent manner, and I thought he was attracted to me.

But I suppose for an eighteen-year-old boy the idea of having an affair with an attractive older women is just too exciting for a girl of his own age to compete with.

One inevitable day, I came home early from school with a migraine headache (I get them occasionally, I must admit to being a bit high strung).

What I saw made my headache even worse.

I will describe the scene in detail, to give you an exact idea of the kind of thing I've been subjected to by my mother.

Perhaps then you will understand why I am the way I am (assuming you still find me rather strange).

I have a good eye for detail and an amazingly accurate memory. I shall report the scene as accurately as possible.

I saw them as I turned the corner from the hallway into the living room.

I had the presence of mind to duck back out of sight before they saw me. though I suppose that there was little danger of that, so absorbed were they in each other.

They were seated on the sofa.

She had unbuttoned his shirt halfway and she had her hand in it, rubbing her palm across the young flesh that she so cherishes.

Her other hand was tangled in his hair.

She was looking directly into his eyes, her eyes penetrating as only an older, more experienced woman's can be.

David was trying the best he could to return her arch look of desire, but his eyes would shift uncomfortably under the intensity of her knowing gaze.

She liked being able to intimidate him with her age and experience. I could tell.

She brought both her hands to his shirt front and unbuttoned all the buttons, pulling the shirt out of his pants and never once taking her eyes of his face.

It was as if she was telling him that she was so experienced that she didn't even have to look to know exactly what her hands were doing.

She took off his shirt and ran her hands over his shoulders and his chest and his back.

"You have an intensively attractive build," she said. "Your muscles are very firm."

She squeezed his arms and shoulders admiringly.

"Would you like to see my ... " she let her voice trail off, and then she smiled.

"Would you like to see my chest?" she asked, after he had already given a little gasp in anticipation of the question.

He nodded.

She took his hands and placed them over her breasts. Then she pressed her hands over the back of his hands.

David was staring at his hands and at the breasts that they held.

I imagine they felt quite good.

My mother is forty years old (although she says she is thirty seven, and has been saying that for three years) and yet her breasts are still quite firm.

They have begun to sag only enough to give them a comfortable, slightly used look which somehow seems to make them even more attractive to men.

They look like the breasts of a woman who loves to be made love to.

And as David handled the breasts in his palms, she let out a moan, as if to say of all the men she had had, David possessed a touch that she loved, loved perhaps not more than some others, but just about as much.

I could tell David was highly aroused.

"Would you like to take off my blouse?"

David nodded like the schoolboy he was.

"Then do. Please," she said, almost more as a pant than as a word, "Do."

David unbuttoned the blouse, fumbling a little in his reverence of her well-formed breasts.

He opened it and she helped him slip it off her arms, which she did by obligingly lifting her arms above her head.

This movement had the effect of making her breasts lift and thrust, and this so excited David that he impulsively buried his face in her cleavage and kissed her their as his hands caressed her breasts.

I could see the nipples of them, brown nipples the color of cocoa, becoming hard and straining a little through his fingers as his caresses brought them to erection.

She moaned to let him know that he was doing exactly the right thing.

I would have liked to come up behind him and hit him hard with a blunt instrument. Perhaps kill him. His head would fall heavily and bloodily into my mother's lap, ruining her designer original skirt.

She would be upset.

I controlled myself, but I dug my nails so hard into the woodwork that the marks are still there. They caught Mother's eyes once and she wondered idly what had caused them.

David was now so infused with confidence from my mother's sounds of pleasure that he put his mouth directly over the nipple of her left breast and began to suck, much as I had sucked it when I was a few weeks old.

My mother leaned back against the arm of the sofa, forcing David to half lie on top of her to continue his sucking of her breast.

The movement also bowed her back a little, so that her breast was pressed firmly up against his mouth.

He loved kissing her nipples and the flesh of her breasts, and he moved his head from one to the other as if each delighted him so that he couldn't decide which one to concentrate his attentions on.

He was not tiring of the feel of her hard nipples on his tongue and the yielding flesh of her ample breast in his mouth, but she was anxious to proceed to more intensely stimulating sensations.

So she let her hand travel down his chest and his belly as he sucked and licked hungrily at her breasts, and she rubbed his thigh at first on the outside, and then on the inside.

David stopped his mouthing of her breasts as he sensed the imminent first contact of her hand upon his penis.

I saw her smile an almost jaded smile that David couldn't see from his position.

She squeezed at the inside of his thigh, an urgent, demanding squeeze, and then she slipped her hand up and squeezed his penis, as naturally and with as little ado as if it was simply another part of his anatomy, with no more special sexual interest than she would have touched any other part of his body.

The natural, casual nature of the caress aroused David more than a more self-consciously erotic stroking might have.

David gave out a gasp of pleasure and let his head fall onto her breasts as she rubbed and stroked his organ, bringing to full erection.

It became clear that he would lie there, reveling in the feel of her hand massaging his organ until she instructed him as to what to do next.

"David," she said, warmly and maternally, as if she was thinking only of his well-being and happiness, "Would you like to be inside me now?"

David tried to say yes but he choked on his words and all that came out was a grunt.

She was very understanding though, and quite willing to accept this as a valid reply.

"Let's undress, David," she said, and she indicated that she wanted to get up and take her own dress off.

He let her up and she stood to unfasten her skirt.

It fell to her feet and she stepped out of it and folded it neatly and hung it over a chair.

She also took the opportunity to pick up the blouse, which in the heat of the moment David had tossed on the floor.

As she folded the blouse and put it over the chair with her skirt, I saw David put his hand to his face, realizing the mistake he had made in so cavalierly flinging the blouse to the floor and risking a few unsightly wrinkles.

My mother is a very passionate person. She is also very neat. It is an interesting contradiction which might account for some of the more neurotic facets of her character.

David unbuckled his pants and stepped out of them.

They were both naked except for their underwear.

She stepped up to David and they embraced.

She ran her hands down his back, as if marveling in the firmness of the well-muscled flesh.

And then she brought both her hands down to his button and clasped them firmly, pulling him against her.

She began rubbing her womanhood up against him.

David's breath came out almost in a sob.

She reached between them and cupped one of her hands over his erect organ, which I glimpsed before she grasped it. It was a large bulge in his tight briefs.

She began to masturbate him through his briefs and he grasped involuntarily at her shoulders to support himself.

I suppose the sensation was so intense that it made him weak in the knees.

She was getting very excited now, too.

Her breath was coming very rapidly and as she moved away from him to give her hand more space to massage his fully aroused organ, I could see that her panties were damp with the moisture of her excited vagina.

She pulled at the elastic of his briefs and began to pull them down.

She pulled them all the way down his legs as he stood there, kneeling on the floor as she slid them all the way to the floor.

He stepped out of them, one of the few movements he felt secure in initiating on his own.

She was on her knees before him now.

She lifted her head up and her face was right before his erection.

She grabbed it in her hand, wrapping her fingers around it.

And then she put it in her mouth.

She sucked him until he began to whimper, and then she lay down on her back, not relinquishing her hold on his penis, but pulling him down with her gripping his erection all the time.

He went down on his knees, and she lay on her back, looking up at him with a wry smile.

"Take off my panties, darling," she said, sounding as if he was the lover and theirs was the love of the century.

My stomach surged up into my mouth and for a moment I felt sure I would vomit.

He took off her panties, pulling them down over her shapely legs, reverently and carefully, as if any sudden movement might cause him to wake up and he'd find himself collapsed in sleep in Mr. Morgan's geometry class.

As' soon as he slipped the panties off, she spread her legs open slowly and gracefully, as if she were an angel spreading her wings.

"Come put your cock inside me," she said.

He stretched out on top of her as she lay sinking into the plush carpeting.

She took his penis in her hand and guided it to her vagina.

He brought his hips down, thrusting up inside of her.

"Fuck me, David," she said, "Come inside me.

He thrust into her two or three times and that was about it.

David wasn't very sexually experienced, and this experience was too much for him.

He had an orgasm immediately, and then he lay on top of her, too mortified to look at her.

I know it pleased her that she had excited him so that he couldn't properly make love to her.

I think this excited her much more than if he had been a competent lover.

She stroked his hair, and said, "Darling, that's alright, that's good. I wanted you to come inside me. Did you like it?"

I figured this would be an interesting time to make my enterance.

I walked into the room and sat down on the sofa.

I picked up and apple from the fruit bowl on the table and took a bite of it.

They didn't notice I was in the room until I made the crunch.

They looked at me with horrified glances.

"Hi Mom, hi David," I said. "Are ' you having a pleasant afternoon? It certainly looks as if you're having a pleasant afternoon."

They didn't say anything.

And I couldn't say anything else because I didn't trust my voice.

So I threw the apple at them as hard as I could.

I hit David in the eye.

The next time I saw him skulking down the hall in school, I noticed that his eye was swollen and black and blue.

I ran into my room then and locked the door, so I don't know what happened then.

I needn't have locked the door.

Mother never came around to explain herself or to see if I was slashing my wrists, which I did consider but immediately rejected.

I don't have a suicidal personality.

Suicide is an immature reaction to stress.

And I suppose crying is immature too.

But I couldn't restrain myself from doing that.

CHAPTER FOUR

My name's Andrea. But you can call me Andy. That is, if I like you. And chances are I'll like you. That is, if you're cool. Drips, I'm not too hot about. Actually, now that I think about it, chances are I wouldn't like you.

Most of the people I know are drips.

At least at our school that's the way it is. None of my friends are drips, though. I hang around with the coolest kids in school.

That's cause I'm a cheerleader.

I'm glad that I got to be a cheerleader because you meet all the sharpest guys that way.

And you get to be in contact with them under very exciting circumstances.

I don't have a boyfriend, which is to say I don't have one boyfriend.

Depending on what you call a boyfriend, you could say that I have a dozen boyfriends.

Which isn't to say that I don't get along with girls.

I have a million girlfriends.

But let's be honest about it. Girlfriends aren't a very good measure of your real social success.

To measure your social success it's the number of groovy looking guys that you got going after you that really counts.

I'm the social success in the family.

Linda isn't a social success.

When we were little kids, everyone said that she was the prettiest.

Well, she's not bad looking, but when you come down to measuring her social success, she's totally out of it.

Not only doesn't she have any boyfriends, she doesn't have any girlfriends.

And that makes her as much of an oddball as all the kids that don't have half her looks or a tenth of the money we have.

So maybe she's pretty.

Let's even pretend for a minute that she's gorgeous.

She's so uptight and sensitive that she'll never be anything in life.

If she's lucky maybe she'll find some rich nobody like my dad to marry her, just because he wants a wife that looks okay and comes from a good family.

Well, I hope that happens, because after all, she is my sister when it comes right down to it, and I wish the best for her.

I'm glad that cousin Calvin is staying in her wing of the penthouse.

I wouldn't want him in mine.

I suppose maybe he might be okay, but a guy that might be okay who's a relative is a drip.

That's because being a relative makes you a drip whether you're okay or not.

I suppose if you had a super cool relative, that would make him not a drip, maybe someone like Joe Namath or Burt Reynolds, but being a relative gives you a real disadvantage.

And Calvin plays basketball, which is for tall skinny guys, for which I don't go in a very big way.

I like men that have muscles.

Men that make you feel female just when they're in the same room with you.

And when they take you in their arms, you feel little and weak and like they could do anything to you, and all that keeps them in line is that they think you're cool and they don't want you down on them.

Are you a guy like that?

If you are, you're okay by me.

If you're not ... you know, I don't know much about this stuff, but maybe it's not too late for you.

I suppose you could work out at the Y or lift weights or something, and that you could make yourself a real man if you weren't born that way.

I think I read somewhere that there was a famous football player that was a real wimp that always got picked on, but he got smart and just worked out every day and developed himself into a famous football player.

So I wouldn't feel real put down, just do your best to develop yourself.

You could turn out to be a real hulk maybe.

Hulks are what I like!

I guess it runs in the family.

Mom sure-likes hulks.

I've given up bringing them home because she's always trying to snatch them out from under me (or snatch them off from over me!! ! ! ).

I don't know why, but Mom looks ready to spring for Cal.

I saw her looking at him over supper like he was what she wanted for desert.

Pretty weird, huh?

My mother doesn't like the thought that she's getting old.

So she tries to hump it off with every young guy who gets within her reach.

I don't think my mother is a very good influence.

I think if it got around what she was doing, they'd probably try and lock her up.

But I'm pretty accepting of that crazy way she is, because at least she has a sense of humor about it.

And also she's given me something very valuable.

I would call it a lust for life.

(She's got a lust for everything especially if it's under thirty and it's wearing pants!! ! ! )

So, as weird as it is having her humping all these guys and being my own mother and all, I wouldn't have her locked up.

Anyway, I figure that she'll have to start canning it in another couple years.

I can't believe that she would keep this up past forty! Sex just doesn't interest people past forty.

Mom's pretty exceptional, so maybe I'll give her another possible five years.

One thing that's good about mom is that since she carries on like she does, what can she say if I do some crazy stuff every once in a while?

She can't do anything without being a total hypocrite.

I don't take advantage of this too often.

I wouldn't say that I'm really wild.

But sometimes it's nice to know that if you have a real cool guy on the line you can take him up here and give him the ball of his life in any one of a dozen rooms.

Guys don't tend to forget something like that.

I guess I have an edge over the other girls.

They have to make do with trying to hook a guy by making out in all those creepy teenage places.

You know what the deal is there.

Maybe a feel at the drive-in movie, with the guy getting a hand down your pants and you jerking him off.

I guess that's okay once and a while and I still like to do that for a kick now and then just go out to a drive-in and slip my hand down a guy's pants and make him so crazy that you got total control of him right until the minute he spurts that hot yummy goo into your fist. Oh, gosh.

I guess if I had to say the best time I ever did it for a guy, it wasn't in the penthouse at all.

So if you're thinking I'm just one of those spoiled "rich bitchs," better forget about it.

I still like the simple things.

like a good ball with hulk!! !

How much more simple can you get than that?

Not that I'm a sex maniac! Don't think that for a minute!

I'm not one of those nymphos that can't get enough, just because they enjoy it so much. I think that's disgusting.

My view on sex is very sensible, and nothing like a nympho's.

I don't even enjoy sex. What I mean is, to go after a guy because you really what his thing up your box, that really distorts your values, and you can't keep your mind on what's really important.

What's important is that you should use sex to its best advantage, right? And to use sex to its best advantage is to use it for what it's good for.

And sure it feels good and all that stuff, but the best thing sex is for is getting boys right where you want them.

So, obviously any girl that wants a guy so bad up her box, well, she's not going to be able to concentrate on getting HIM so excited that he can't think of anything except how great you are.

When you get this sensible view of sex, you can really turn a guy on "so much that he'll swear that he wants you forever.

So to sum that up, what gets me excited is to make a boy so wild for me that he shoots his stuff all over, spurting like wild!

That's what makes me hot.

As for actual intercourse, that's okay. But I save that for real special occassions, or if I really want to keep some guy on the line, I'll make sure that he knows I'll do it for him if he sticks around and treats me nice.

But I feel sorry for girls who got lost every time they see a big cock! Their knees get weak and if you ask me, their heads get even weaker!

Even if the girl is going steady with a guy, to really need him to make love to you puts you in a real weak position.

If you are terrific in the sack, but a guy senses that you don't really quite need hi, it's the best combination there is. You make him just nuts for your body, but he knows that he doesn't make you think the world is going to explode every time he makes love to you. There should be just a hint of that to keep him on his toes.

And I ask you, really, seriously, what could be more exciting for a girl than for her to know that you can make a guy crazy with desire for your body and crazy for the way you can make him come?

In every thing else, guys have the power!

But sex is what life is all about (that's what I got out of biology, which is otherwise a drag of a subject that SEX IS LIFE and is the whole point of existing. What this means scientifically is that we were born to fuck!! ! ! ! ! ) and if we girls are in control of that, we control the world!

And the guys are none the wiser!

So I've told everything that as far as I'm concerned is what sex is all about.

I can give you an actual for instance, in case you're so old fashioned as to think that where sex is at is that you have to get that hot cock up your box for it to be much of anything. Bullshit, that's what I say to that.

I think the most exciting time that I ever had with a guy was in a bathroom at this fraternity party.

They (the guys in the frat) had just won this big game (it was the frat foosball championship at the local pub) and they were nuts!!

It was some fun.

They had about five kegs of beer and they turned up the stereo real loud.

I think I was the youngest girl there!

I was proud of that, 'cause all these sorority girls were prancing around like they were some hot shit, and here I walk in and I'm with one of the coolest sharpest guys in the entire frat!

I could see them shooting me glances, like-kill! kill! kill!! !

It was exciting!! !

And I kept drinking beer, 'cause Ron and I made a joke of it, saying that I would drink him under the table!

And so I was laughing and drinking and laughing and drinking until suddenly I had to throw up.

I don't know if it was all the drinking or if it was all the laughing that made me feel like puking.

But of course I didn't tell Ron that! Can you imagine how dorky that would be?

So I put on this smile, and I could feel this puke stuff almost start to seep right through my smile!

Help!! ! !

That's what I thought as I made it to the bathroom.

But the bathroom was being used, and there was a line waiting to use it, a line as long as the line you had to wait in to see Star Wars when it first came out.

So I was really in trouble!

So I ran back to Ron and asked him if there was another bathroom (I said I didn't want to waste precious party time standing in that dumb line. He could understand that) and he said that there was one for just the guys in the frat, and the second floor.

So he took me up there, and showed me it, and I gave him one of my beautiful coy smiles and then I shut the door and puked my guts out.

I felt a lot better, but I took a long time getting myself back together so that I could operate as cool as I had before.

Ron got worried and he knocked on the door, and he asked if I was alright.

I was a little ... embarrassed, so I thought of something that would make him feel that I was even cooler than he thought I was.

I said, "I was waiting here, Ron, just hoping you'd come back."

"Why?" he asked, but I could tell he was hoping I'd say what I was going to say.

"Because I was in here, and I thought to myself, this place is the only place at this whole damn party where we can be alone!"

And that made him smile.

He came in and he shut the door behind him.

I didn't wait for him to make the first move.

You have to move fast to show a guy who has the real control.

So I jumped on him and started kissing his face and sticking my tongue in his mouth, and making sounds like I was just SO hot for him!

And then I put my hands behind his back and made this big deal of sliding my hands slowly-SLOWLY! down his back until I slid them all the way down and held on to his ass!

When you grab a buy's ass, this is one way to show him that you know what's what!

And then, with my hands grabbing his ass, I pulled him toward me and ground my pussy mound right into his cock!

God, did he go hard fast!! ! !

And he had a real nice cock, a thick, long one, just the kind that you'd hope a hulk like him would have!

I like big cocks! There's more of them to play with and it makes to feel like you can make a man crazier for you if he has more cock for you to squeeze and a suck and drive wild.

It's much more fun to make a BIG peter come!! ! The more peter I have in my hands, the more power I feel I got over a guy!! ! !

So I was grinding my box against him, and I was getting wet just feeling that big cock getting big and full of come stuff!! !

He started pulling my blouse off.

"Oh Rod, Rod! Do you think we should!"

"I'm not thinking, chick! This all comes natural!" he said.

I thought that that was cute.

So I let him take the blouse off and get a good load of my naked tits!

Guys love my tits!

My tits are big and round and they stick out real proud so that when I'm wearing a tight top (and when you have tits like mine, you're dumb if you don't always wear a tight top) they really look round and like you really want to just grab them and love them up and suck them!

How do I know that?

Because that's what a guy will do at the first opportunity he gets to put his hot hands and his hungry mouth on them!

And that's what Rod did.

Soon as he saw them naked and jumping out at him, he puts both his mitts on them and began to squeeze them and rub them, and then he had to bend down to them and give both of the nipples the suck treatment!! !

Icouldtell just having all that round ripe tit in his hands and in his mouth was making him ready to almost come in his pants, so I sighed and moaned and groaned like I was in seventh heaven, even though I don't really get off on the feel of a guy sucking and squeezing my tits.

My tits just aren't sensitive that way. A lot-a LOT! of girls are the same way.

But I could tell how much he wanted my tits, and that excited me, and I really got off no making those noises as his sucked and petted my tits, and I squirmed around a lot while he was doing and I'd especially squirm when he licked at the tips, which were all hard now (they get that way just from being rubbed).

I loved doing that, and I made my breathing faster, so he'd think I was hot beyond belief!

I had him so excited that he started breathing as fast as I was, and then I knew I had him, and suddenly I WAS excited!

My panties were really wet, I could tell.

And while he was sucking at my tits, I reached down and I stroked his hard-on right through his pants! And it was a big and stiff as it could get.

I wanted it in my hands.

So I moaned and groaned some more so he would take it out and lay it in my fingers!

But guys aren't real predictable, and you have to watch out for them sometimes.

'Cause what Ron did now was undo my jeans and pull them down and pull down my panties.

Well, I let him take them off, but I was on my guard, because I sure as hell wasn't going to let him go all the way!

This was only the second time we had gone out.

And to let a guy have it on the second date isn't using sex to its best advantage. And that's stupid!

So I let him get his hand between my legs and he liked the way I was all wet there and so he started running his hand all over my bush, and I panted some more and squirmed some more.

And then he took his middle finger and put it up my hole and started fucking me with it.

It went in and out pretty easily, and I got real quiet all of a sudden like it felt so good that I didn't want to distract him from doing what he was doing to my beaver.

But it didn't really feel very good.

Guys don't really know how to handle a girl's box. At least not high school guys. Maybe older guys figure it out as they get more experience.

With me, what feels real good is for a guy to rub my clit real slow.

But I only met one guy who ever did that, and I think he was just trying to figure out just what the hell it WAS.

So really what I wanted was to get him all hot and make him come, and it was the thought of that that was making me all runny between my thighs.

And so that's what I put my mind to doing, and it was fun! It was real exciting, so exciting that I couldn't forget about it and for a long time after it, and in fact sometimes even these days, I think about it and I get all pussy-wet!

And then if I'm alone, I masturbate, rubbing my clit real slow ...

And now he was pulling down his fly, and he whipped his thing out.

I think he planned to fuck me right on the floor.

But he wasn't even going to take his clothes off, just fuck me with his cock sticking out of his fly.

I don't think that shows much respect, so I sure wasn't going to let him get away with that.

But I was excited by the way his cock was just bouncing out of his pants, so long and thick and throbbing and bulging like it was just loaded with that yummy come stuff.

So I wrapped my fingers around it and starting jerking him off, and showed him how much I loved it by making little noises like I was talking to his rod.

"Ooo, nice baby, nice big thing, come to mama," stuff like that.

I don't even really remember what I said. But guys love that kinda shit. It doesn't really matter what you say. Just as long as you say it kind of low down in your throat, like the words were somehow coming up direct from your hot wet box!! ! !

So you just say the words soft, and breathe heavy and make sure they are dirty words, and you can make a guy come inside of two minutes, guaranteed.

Ron took a little longer than that, but that's only because I was loving the feel of his hard-on in my hand so much that I was going light on him.

So I jacked him off, sometimes hard and fast, making little noises like I was going to come too (he still had the finger slipping in and out of my box) and then I would slow down a little when I felt that he was just swelled with hot foam and that he was going to shoot it any second.

And then suddenly there were all kinds of people outside the door.

I guess somebody else had told all the guests that were waiting to use the downstairs John that there was a John upstairs to.

And now all of a sudden, there were dozens of people waiting to get in and there bellies were full of beer that they had to pee.

Some of them started banging on the door.

They started banging in this steady rhythm, like "Bam, bam, bam!" shouting "C'mon! C'mon!"

And it made just the perfect background noise!

It was like primitive tribal drums! And I started breathing "C'mon c'mon c'mon" into Ron's ears as I beat him off. It was great!

I was still completely nude, and he was looking up and down my body like the sight of it alone would make him come!! !

And there I was with his great prick in my hand!

He was scared to death! He was afraid that they'd bash the door down.

He wanted to get out of there, but I had him so excited that he had to shoot had to shoot or he was going to die!

I had him so excited he would have had to have stayed there even if the door bust wide open he'd have to stay there until I had jerked him off and all his yummy come had gone spurting up into the air a geyser shooting from his hard throbbing beautiful cock flesh!! !

"Come baby, come!" I told him as the door was shuddering on its hinges under the weight of about six angry football players, "Come baby!"

I was scared to death too!

I mean, there I was without a stitch and my body!

And as popular as that would make me with the guys, it would probably make it real hard for me to get into a good sorority if I was found jacking a guy off, naked on the bathroom floor!! !

His cock was just slippery and gooey as hell with all the stuff that was spilling from the head, so my fist was flying over his meat, up and down so fast that I couldn't even see it.

Rod was just wild, and I knew he was ready to spurt it, but that door was gonna bust wide any second!

So I said, "Ron, honey, I've never done this before, but I've gotta bring you off and quick!! ! ! "

So I put my lips around his cock and gave it the hottest French-kiss suck treatment I knew how.

I'd sucked cocks before, but never on the second date, so I wasn't really lying to Ron. I wouldn't want you to think I'm not generally a very truthful person.

So I closed my lips around his straining cock and I sucked it up and down and I licked the underside of it, which makes a guy come in seconds flat.

His cock meat was hot and hard and so suckable that for a second I forgot the danger we were in but only for a second.

Then I really put my mind to making him shoot his stuff!

I slid my mouth up and down his prick shaft, and I did it real fast, which was made easy by all that sweet slimy jazz that had already dripped from his slit because of how excited I had him.

And I kept licking at that cock-belly, and I could feel his pulse beat wild in my mouth!! ! ! !

"Suck it, Andrea! Make me shoot it nowwwwwww!! ! ! ! " he cried. And I did.

I grabbed the base of his foaming prick in my hand and jacked him off at the same time I sucked and licked at the upper part of it, lunging his prick head against the roof of my mouth a puckering my cheeks to draw them in to make my mouth feel as much like pussy around his cock as possible.

The bottom hinge of the door popped off as the guys outside kept bashing into it, and the pin from the hinge rolled across the bathroom floor.

Ron gave sort of a start with the panic that the broken hinge put in him, and that start made his cock lunge farther into my throat, so I made the most of it and went down on him until his cock was all they way in me, all the way into my throat.

He he started to come!! ! ! !

He spurted that stuff and it went right all the way down me as I gulped it and gulped it.

My gulping must have felt just like a pussy coming, 'cause he bucked and he shoved his rod up into me just like he was fucking cunt.

And I gripped the base of his cock and kept stroking it up and down with my fist, jerking every last shot of his come stuff into me.

And I sucked it and sucked it like I had never been so hungry for anything in my life.

I think I was getting a lot more come than I was air for a long while, and I started to feel a little faint just as Ron finished his wonderful, long, hot, milky come.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMM!! ! ! ! !

The door was coming open!! ! ! ! !

Ron made me kneel right in front of the toilet, like I was puking into it, too weak to stand.

He threw my blouse over me so it covered my body as well as it could.

He kicked the rest of my clothes out of the way under the sink.

And he bent over me, like he was trying to help me. His back was toward the door (in front, his prick was still hanging out!! ! ! ! ! ).

Then the door crashed open and suddenly there were four hulks crowding in the door.

Their faces were red with anger!

But before they had a chance to say a word, I made this big, dry wretching noise.

Two of the guys turned around and went out of the room immediately.

The other two looked real embarrassed.

"Guys, I'm sorry!" said Rod before the hulks to get any words out, "We have a real sick little girl here."

And then he lowered his voice like he was being real confidential, and I bet he gave them a wink, although I couldn't see his face.

"The little girl got a little carried away," he said, "Her first frat party."

They guys at the door nodded understandingly and mumbled something and walked out the door, and closed it real politely behind them.

I looked up at Ron, and we both laughed!! !

Then I reached down and put his cock back in his pants for him, and I did it real nice so by the time I had it safely tucked away it was hard again.

Now that was what I call a good party!! ! !

CHAPTER FIVE

Alright, I didn't just HAPPEN to see it.

I would try to tell you that I saw them going at it by accident, but I know you wouldn't buy it.

But I don't feel like it was real crazy of me to watch.

It WAS a real interesting thing to see, that's for sure.

And the way Mom was acting that day, I felt I had to do something just to get back at her.

"Andrea," she said to me, "You've been spending too much time inside this vacation. Don't you think you should be getting out more?"

Mom doesn't usually give a DARN about what I do or where I am unless what I do or where I am gets in her way, so immediately I was on my guard.

"Couldn't you go down to the field and see if some of the boys are practicing?"

Which shows you how much Mom knows about high school sports! There wasn't anybody practicing during vacation.

"Now, you're sister Linda is different. When she stays inside, it seems natural, but with you it doesn't seem healthy. You should get outside a little."

The thing that's funny about that is that it isn't true, either.

From looking at me, you'd think I'd be what you'd call an outdoor girl.

But I'm not.

I'll stand outside and cheer for all I'm worth at a football game, but outdoor sports aren't really what I'm into. What I'm into is being a cheerleader and a social success, and if I have to stand outside for a few hours waving those dumb little confetti pom-poms, well then I'll do it!

It's a small price to pay.

What I really like is indoor sports.

But you know that already!

If you have a tan, you can fool just about anybody into thinking you're some kind of health nut.

So, I lie on the roof of our building (we can get right onto the roof from our apartment. We have a garden up and there and the whole bit!) and I sleep in the sun, and if falling asleep in the sun makes me a health nut, then being a health nut is fine with me!

So when Mom tells me she thinks I should be getting outside, it doesn't thrill me a lot.

But I knew she wanted to get rid of me.

I wondered why.

Linda was already taken care of, because she went to the library (she spends a lot of time studying when she doesn't even have to all because she wants to pass these exams that will let her into college one year sooner, and I could understand that, because college is a lot more fun than high school, with all those fraternity and sorority parties!! ! ! But prissy little Linda doesn't even WANT to be in a sorority, so what's her rush? As far as I can tell, she's studying and studying so she can hurry up and do MORE studying and studying! The girl hasn't learned what life is about! She should take biology!).

I was trying to figure out why she wanted me out, my mother, that is, when cousin Calvin walks in.

"Hi Cal," she says, "Can I make you some lunch?"

Now, that was a simple thing to say, but suddenly it made everything clear to me.

For one thing, she never makes anybody lunch.

It's always, "You want to eat, wait'll Maxine (that's our maid) fixes dinner!"

Or maybe, "You're a young lady now, go fix your own lunch!"

I knew that she wanted to be alone with Calvin, and she would fix him lunch and she would sit across from him at this little table that we have in our "breakfast nook" and she would start giving him hot glances and start talking just a little dirty to him ...

And then she would probably suggest that maybe they have a little champagne (my mother is a great one for drinking champagne in the middle of the day it just gives me a headache) and then she would put her hand on his thigh and she have him on her hook.

I'd never really seen Mom in action before.

I had plenty of opportunities, but I never really wanted to watch her go through the whole thing.

I thought it might upset me and turn me into a mental case, because you always hear about these kids that have goofy parents like my mom, and they turn into the worst kind of weirdoes themselves.

I just didn't want to find myself turned into a crazy!

Now, I thought I'd be old enough to take it.

And it promised to be sort of exciting and I was sure it would be educational (my mom must know some things I haven't had time to learn!).

So I told my mom that she was right, and that I was going to go out. Go out and get some fresh air.

And I wasn't lying.

I wouldn't want you to think that generally I'm a less than truthful person. I believe truthfulness is always important.

But sometimes it's just as important to make sure the truth you're telling isn't the WHOLE truth.

I did go outside and get some air.

But let me tell you WHERE I went!

There's a nice, long balcony, and it goes around the corner of the penthouse so that you can duck behind the corner if you don't want to be seen.

I told Mom that I was going out, so I left her and Calvin in the kitchen and I walked to the front door and slammed it hard from the inside!

Then I went to Mom's room and opened one of the French windows and walked out onto the balcony.

I laid down in one of the deck chair around the corner.

I had left one of the French windows open so that I'd hear the noises from the bedroom when Mom and Calvin walked in.

I fell asleep out there, and it was nice but I was sorry I did, because I missed s me of the good stuff.

By the time I saw them, Mom only had her panties on, although Calvin still had all his clothes on.

She had been doing a strip act for him.

She was real proud of her body.

It was a good body for a woman of her age.

I know she could have passed for much younger, except that her eyes sort of gave her away. That's a little hard to explain, but the way that she looked at Calvin was the look of a woman who had had a ton of sex experience (I wasn't too sure that Calvin had had even an once!).

Cal was impressed with her body. He was staring at her breasts. I could tell that he wanted to touch them, feel them in his hands and in his mouth. I could tell because I know that look myself.

And Mom could tell too.

"You want to touch them, Cal?" she said, sounding a lot sweeter than when she talks to ME.

"Do you want to hold them in your hands?" Cal nodded.

She walked up to Cal, sort of slowly, like he was a shy animal that could be scared off is she didn't take it slow.

And I think she was right.

I think Cal was real nervous about this whole thing.

But there was Mom, looking as sexy as a woman can, if I do say so myself.

Her body was in fine shape, and she was putting on that look that says that she knew how to use her body to make a guy feel REAL good.

I've used that look myself, and it WORKS. It works different for a young girl like me than it does for a woman who is coming near the top of the hill (which is not to say she's nearly over the hill yet), but it works all the same.

I could see this bulge growing inside Calvin's pants. His eyes were still on her breasts as she walked right up to him so that the tips (they were already hard) scrapped against his shirt.

"Feel them Cal, please," she said, "I want rou to."

Cal swallowed hard his adam's apple ooked as big as his cock! and he raised his tiands slowly and put tnem over her breasts.

At the touch of him, Mom let out a groan and so did Cal.

Cal's groan was real.

I don't think Mom's was.

He held the breasts in his hands, but he was still too shy too play with them, so Chloe (I've decided that's what I'll call her fiom this point, because I don't think so, but I just might end up traumatising myself if I keep calling her Mom! After this, I think I'll always just call her Chloe) put her hand over his and showed him how she liked her breasts to be played with.

"Yes, yes, yes," she moaned, and she took her hands away from his and let him fondle her tits all by himself.

He loved the feel of them, I could tell.

And he loved the way he was exciting Chloe.

She kept up her moans and they were very sexy moans. Standing out there on the balcony I tried to imitate them, real soft. I wanted to see if I could make my moans sound sexy like hers.

Cal was looking hungrily and Chloe's tits now, and I could tell he was thinking of sucking them.

"Go ahead," Chloe told him.

And he bent down to her tits as they stood there together and licked them and loved them up like he couldn't get enough of them even though there was PLENTY of them.

She was stroking his hair with one hand, and with the other hand, she reached down under the elastic of her panties and started to play with herself.

Cal could see the movement of her arm and hand as he bent down to lick her tit points, and he stopped and just watched her for a moment as she fingered her box under the fabric of her panties.

"Do you mind that, Cal?" she asked, "Do you mind when I play with myself?"

Cal shook his head "no."

"I'm sorry dear," she sighed, still moving that hand slowly round and round her box, every once in a while closing her eyes like it just felt too good.

"Your licking my breasts like that just aroused me so that I had to touch myself. Of course, if you'd rather do it, that would be even better."

She just looked at Cal with a hot look and waited for him to make his move.

And this time, Cal didn't need Chloe's hand on his to get him moving.

He reached down and put his hand under her panties and he slid down to her pussy bush and began to rub her.

She didn't take her hand out of her panties, but just laid it on the back of his hand, and just like she had done with her tits, she showed him how she liked her pussy stroked.

It was with a slo"' . , gentler rhythm than he had been using.

It seemed to turn him on even more that he was learning how to really excite her.

I put that away in my mental file for future reference: if you do it right, you can show a guy how to play with your pussy just the way you want it, and he won't feel like you think he's a dumb klutz.

Now that he knew what to do with her box, she took her hand out of her panties and let him do it himself.

She threw her arm around his neck, moaning and holding onto him like she would just sink to the floor is she didn't clutch him like that.

And she spread her legs a little wider, and she said to him, "Now put your finger up me, dear. Slip your finger right up my hole. Oh, I'm so hot now that I need something fucking up my hole!"

So Cal slipped a finger into her, which I can only tell by her reaction, since I couldn't see through the panties.

What she did was clutch on to him even tighter and let out this yell of pleasure that I think could be heard all over Chicago!! ! ! !

I think, speaking as a woman now, that she was overacting. I think I'm a qualified critic, because I'm pretty good at turning guys on myself.

But maybe you can bet away with more than I thought you could.

Calvin sure seemed to be buying it.

And while he was going hard at it slipping his finger up inside her box, she reached down with the hand that wasn't thrown around his neck and began rubbing his cock.

She rubbed it real firmly, and in the same rhythm that he was using to finger fuck her box.

Cal was breathing so hard I thought he would faint!! ! !

So Chloe knew she really had him going now, and she pulled him over to the bed and showed him that she wanted him to lie down.

He did it, and she began to strip his clothes off.

She opened his shirt, but she left it on him, just spreading it open so she could see his whole chest.

Cal didn't have the world's greatest body (to much like a basketball player a little on the skinny side) but it wasn't bad.

And Chloe seemed to really go for his chest, 'cause she rubbed her hands all across it, and then she bent down and began kissing it and nibbling it a little and then she started licking down his belly.

She put her tongue into her navel and swished it around, and then she licked down further until she was licking at the begins of his bush there were just a few little hairs curling up from under the waistband of his pants.

She brought her head up and smiled at Cal as she unbuckled his pants.

"You won't be embarrassed? Making love when it's so light in here?"

I sure hoped he wouldn't be embarrassed!

If they pulled the shades, I wouldn't be able to see anything.

But Cal wanted to see everything that was happening.

He shook his head "no" and she went on taking his pants down.

She pulled the pants down over his legs, and had to stop to unlace and take off his shoes before she pulled them all the way off.

She didn't bother with his socks, she just let them on.

I wouldn't have done that.

They were ugly socks. Maroon and gold. The colors of the East High Eagles. Ugh!! ! !

But now he was naked, except fot his socks, and Chloe was naked, except for her panties.

Cal's body wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, once I could see the whole thing.

And his thing well, his thing wasn't bad at all!

It was full of come stuff just real swollen and red and horny looking!

I could tell he was aching, just aching to come!

Chloe was sitting on the bed by his feet.

She kissed her way up his legs, kissed and licked all the way up the inside of his legs until her head was right between his thighs, right at his crotch.

"Could I suck you, Cal?" she said.

She ran her palm gently over his cock as it lay against his belly.

"I want you in my mouth, is that alright?" she asked.

Cal nodded. He was too excited to talk.

She rubbed over his cock until I could he see his come stuff sliding through her fingers.

And then she held the cock up and jerked him off just a little with her fist.

He was hard as he could get, and then she lower her mouth down around his upright prick.

She blew him real good, real hard and real slow.

And at the same time she was using he mouth on him, she used her hands too.

One hand just kept playing with his balls, and the other hand was in a loose fist around the base of his rod and every time her mouth slid up the shaft she would slide her fist up the shaft too so that his cock was always surrounded by her fist or by. her her sucking mouth.

He wasn't going to last long.

I could tell it was the best blow job that he had ever had.

He was straining to hold back his come.

Chloe slid up to the top of his cock and looked at him. I think she could feel in her mouth how his cock was so ready to come.

So she let his cock slide out of her mouth and she spread her legs and got on top of him.

She still had her panties on and they were totally wet by now.

She lowered her pussy so that she slid it up and down over the underside of his cock and the cock lay against his belly.

It felt real good to him, but it wasn't quite enough like the feel of real pussy to make him shoot, which is the way that Chloe wanted it.

She kept looking him right in the eye, and Cal looked her right back in the eye but his mouth was hanging open like he couldn't believe it was happening to him.

"Would you like to put it in me, Cal?" she said, her voice sounding about two octaves lower than it usually does. "Would you like to feel me all around your cock?"

Cal gave another nod, and Chloe swung off of him and stood by the bed and took off her panties.

Cal was staring at her box and she knew it, so she ran a hand through her bush and then fingered her clit and then her slit and then she stuck three fingers up her hole and moved them in and out.

"I think I'm ready for you, Cal ready for your cock."

Then she swung her self back on top of him and spread her legs and took his leaky rod in her hand and pushed it up into her.

Cal moaned, and she began to rock on him, a little back and forth, a little up and down, like she was riding him.

"Oh, I ... Geez ... I ... stop, please!" Cal was begging, 'cause he knew he was going to shoot it in a second.

But Chloe didn't stop.

I wouldn't have either.

If you can make a man come quick, it makes him feel about one inch tall, and then you've really got him where you want him.

So Cal shot it after she had slid over his rod only a few times.

His face screwed all up and he tried to hold it but the feel of pussy was just to much and he came into her as she just kept rocking and rocking on his cock.

"That's alright, dear," she said to him. "You have more of it to give me. I'll show you in a while."

And she lay down beside him.

He turned away from her, real embarrassed.

She didn't try to turn him toward her, she just stroked his back for a long time and didn't say anything.

Then after a while she began to play with . his cock again, really slow and gently.

And he got hard and she got on top again.

This time, he lasted a pretty long time and Chloe looked like she came, and I don't think that she was faking it but that's real hard to tell.

The only way I can tell is that she didn't overact like she had before.

She just got real quiet and Cal moved his hips under her the best he could and she bit her Up and her body began to shake, this shudder going all the way through her.

So it must have been real. If she had been faking it would have been a lot noisier.

I was glad I had seen the whole thing.

I didn't feel traumatised, but these things are hard to tell.

I may not have gotten traumatised, but I did get one hell of a cold.

I was standing out there for probably an hour and a half, and the wind came up (and when you're on the top of a building in Chicago, it gets WINDY!) and the sun started to go down and it got cold real quick.

I had to wait for them to drop off to sleep, and by that time, I was already sneezing and sniffling.

So when they went to sleep, I snuck back in through the room, and then I took a half dozen aspirin and went right to bed, thinking maybe I could beat the cold that way.

But I didn't.

I got so sick that I forgot all about the fact that I might have been traumatized for life.

CHAPTER SIX

Geez, I got one crazy bunch of relatives in Chicago.

Boy, the things I could tell you!

Some of them I guess I WILL tell you, and some of them, well, I guess a guy has to have some secrets.

I mentioned before that maybe I'd tell you about some things that happened between Chloe and me.

I'm not going to.

I think I gotta sorta work them through in my mind before I go spouting my mouth off to the whole entire universe.

I will say just a couple things, and that will be that, okay? After I have my say, I don't want any more questions from the peanut gallery.

I like Chloe.

She is a person who had stayed young, and who takes all the joy she can from life.

We got to be very close.

And maybe we got too close. Closer than we should have for being relatives.

You can take that statement however you want to you aren't gonna get any more out of me.

Now, I like her, maybe even love her, as someone who I think I understand pretty good.

I like her as a friend.

But you can like your friends and still see that they have drawbacks.

When you know someone, really get to know them, that means that you know the good as well as the bad.

I just because I like some things about Chloe doesn't mean I like everything.

She is great to know as a person who loves life.

But if I had had her as a mother, I think I woulda blown my brains out all over the white walls of the penthouse.

She should never have had kids.

She wants to be a kid herself for just as long as she can, and her daughters by growing up and becoming young women themselves remind her that she isn't young any more.

This makes her into a real bitch as a mother.

And she has probably really screwed those girls up.

Now, I don't feel too bad for Andrea.

I have this feeling that Andrea would have turned out to be the snotty broad that she is no matter whose kid she had been.

I've seen too many of her type to think that she's just a product of a goofed-up home life.

Those girls are created by God just so those big football players will have somebody to ball in the back seat after a game. Andrea, I swear she has a pom-pom where her brain should be.

Her role in life is to yell "Rah! Rah!" while some Frankenstein thyroid case charges down the football field with a little bloated piece of pig skin.

What I'm trying to indicate to you here is that Andrea has not garnered my esteem. Although I still like her tits.

Just forget that I said before that she was one of the ten girls in the world I would most like to lay.

Well, I'll take that back.

I mean, it's kinda hard to explain ... but even though she's a TOTAL KNOCKOUT, I think if I was in bed with her I wouldn't be able to go through with it.

I'd be afraid she'd start yellin' "He's at the fifty! The thirty! The ten! And it's a TOUCHDOWN!" And then when it was all over she'd try and tear down my goal post.

There's just nothing I can talk to a girl like . that about.

And I ain't been around that long, but I've already figured out that having sex with someone you can't talk to ... well, you might as well bake yourself a nice, soft, warm loaf of bread and hump that.

I imagine it would give you something like the same sensation, and it wouldn't give you half the grief.

Now, I don't want to say that I'm down on cheerleaders as a group.

I think cheerleaders are, in their way, integral to our society. It's just like we all need someone to say "Rah! Rah!" to us at some point, whether we're basketball players, or if we're politicians, or if we're just a normal every day person and we get to feeling down.

I mean, that's why folks get married, isn't

If you're feeling low, and you've had a hard day, you come home and there's someone there who believes in you.

And they look at you and they smile, and they say, "Rah! Rah!" to you in their own special way, and suddenly things don't look as bad, you know?

I mean, maybe be you been knocked around and off-sided up the but, but you still got that free penalty shot comin' up, right?

I've seen that happen with my dad and with my mom all the time.

He'll feel down, or she'll feel down, but then they cheer each right up in no time.

The point here is that we can't JUST be cheerleaders, giving all we got to what somebody else does.

We gotta learn how to play our own game, too.

So, if you happen to be a cheerleader, don't think I'm down on you as a person just because you yell those funny chants and jump around like you couldn't get to a toilet during half time.

I'm only down on you if you given your body and soul to being a groupie and you don't have anything left in YOURSELF that's worth cheering over.

So, that's all I have to say about that subject and about Andrea.

She could still come out alright. Maybe she's just going through a phase. I certainly hope so.

Otherwise, when I finally meet the RIGHT GIRL and cousin Andy shows up at the wedding, she'll probably stand on the aisle and start waving her pom-poms.

And as I walk down the aisle, I'll hear her say, "He's at the fifty, he's at the thirty ... "

okay, this time I mean it. I'll lay off Andrea.

Maybe it's that I think it's such a waste of resources that makes me talk so nasty about her and her chosen vocation.

If she were someone I could relate to, she'd be someone I could screw, to put it grossly.

Now I'm going to talk about Linda.

But before I do, I have to say a word about screwing one's cousins.

I would not recommend it.

It does a trip on your mind that you would not believe.

But I think what happened with me was that I hadn't been to Chicago and seen these cousins in years ... and they were just people to me, not relatives.

So ... some things happened.

And now when I think back on them, it's a very difficult thing to sort out. And I think it will remain difficult to sort out.

Life hands you a lot of curve balls.

The problem is that a lot of them look pretty good comin' down the pike, and you can't stop yourself from swinging at them.

I am going to tell you something that happened with Linda.

I'm not sure why I'm telling you this, but maybe it's just to come clean on one very important point.

It's so hard to judge people right.

I judged Linda one way, and boy did I miss the boat (the plane, the train and the bus).

I want to tell you something that happened between Linda and me.

It was something wonderful.

And something very scary:

I'll tell you all about it, but I'll also tell you that me and Linda talked about it, and we decided some things about it, and I think the reason I can tell you about it is that it is clear in my mind now.

We discussed what was wrong, what was right ... all that stuff that you can discuss forever and always come up with a different answer.

But we did what we could to set ourselves right.

I'm not going to tell you what was decided, or the long talks we had.

That stuff has been going through my mind though, and I don't want to go through it r again. That stuffs been pretty well settled, and it's stuff that I want to keep just to myself.

What I am going to tell you is about a night that Linda and I shared together.

I'm telling it as much for my own sake as for anything else. I want to get a description of it down on paper, so I can keep it, and have it, and look at it when ... when I'm feeling sentimental.

It was like the eighth night I had been staying there, and it was getting more than a little strange.

Chloe and I ... well, we'd been growing very close, and this resulted in me getting these snickery-sneery looks from Andrea.

I mean, she wasn't in the least subtle about it. She had this big sneer that was just SMEARED all over her face.

I didn't look very good on her, but it really suited her overall personality to a T.

And as bad as that was, there were even worse vibes coming to me from Linda.

like before, she had just ignored the hell out of me.

But now, every once in a while, she'd shoot me one of these glances.

They weren't mean glances, or snotty glances. I guess they were what you could call reproachful glances.

It was really weird, 'cause I wasn't expecting anything like that.

I was just expecting these cold, icy looks where she'd try to freeze every corpuscle and hormone in my body.

But then I got these almost little girl glances, big wide-eyed sort of glances that were sorta misty like you could see tears just almost ready to brim over her eyelids.

That wasn't something I expected at all.

It made me start thinking more and more about her.

And as she kept looking at me like she thought I was some kind of criminal, you would think I would start resenting her even more.

But what happened was that I started liking her, even though we never said a word to each other.

I guess suddenly I was seeing a girl who was vulnerable, and once you looked under that kinda ceramic glaze that tends to surround all girls who are as pretty as china dolls (I guess they're afraid of getting used, and they have good reason to be afraid) she was really a nice girl.

But I wouldn't have known that for sure if something really bizarre hadn't happened.

like I said, it was the eighth night of my staying there and all these thoughts about Ms.

Linda were floating through my head.

I fall asleep, and I think I was dreaming about Linda, which made what happened even weirder.

I wake up real sudden, not sure why I find myself sitting bolt upright in bed.

Then I hear this noise at the door.

Someone was turning the knob.

like it was three in the morning and I'm not sure that the person that is coming through that door is going to be any particular friend of mine.

I got scared.

I tried to think of a weapon around the room I could use to bash a skull if I had to.

But there wasn't anything.

I was wishing I was in my own room, where I have this Louisville Slugger sitting in the corner.

But here I didn't have NOTHING to defend my shaky little self with.

So I did what any normal, courageous young lad would do.

I pulled that covers all the way up around me and just left my eyes sticking out.

It was a perfect turtle imitation.

You ever wonder why people do that?

It's gotta be the dumbest thing possible.

If you're afraid someone's coming to get you, what you do is wrap yourself up like a mummy in your covers so that you couldn't possibly go anywheres to get away.

Now don't tell me that YOU wouldn't do the same thing.

If you really think you'd do something different, tell you what you do.

Send me your address and some night, I'll sneak in to your room.

And we'll just see what you do.

If I don't find you shivering under the covers like a palsied turtle, I'll give you a personal citation for bravery.

In the mean time, just accept my statement that I'm as brave as the next guy (believe me, the next guy's a chicken too), and I'm not ashamed of what I did.

And then the door opened, and I thought I was going to wet my pants.

There was a person there, and it was light enough from the light coming from the hall to see that it was somebody in a flowing robe, the kind that you think that the angel of death would be wearing.

Of course, it's also the kind that you'd think that a high school girl would be wearing, but I didn't think of that.

For some reason death was really on my mind.

And I see this ghost-like thing walking in real slow, like in a slow motion movie shot, that robe just flowing behind it.

And it walks straight up to my bed, doesn't look around or anything, just walks straight up to it like it's being guided by some devilish radar system or something.

And it gets right up to the bed, stand right there over me.

And it keeps just standing there, doesn't do anything.

And I don't do anything.

Except I guess you could say I WAS doing SOMETHING.

I was trying like hell not to cry out "MOMMYYYYYYYYYY!! "

And then the thing spoke.

"You did it," it said.

Whatever it was, I was hoping I hadn't.. I could only think of one thing to say and I said it.

"Are you sure?" I said. My voice came out in a croak.

There was a silence. I don't think it heard me.

"Why?" it said, "Why did you do it?"

Some times when I get in these bizarre situations, some thing takes over in me. I think it's a thing that is related to my sense of humor, but it has definite suicidal tendencies.

I think whatever that thing inside of me is, it's trying to get me killed.

So that thing took over, and I found myself saying, "Why did I do it? Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time."

It wasn't the right thing to say, apparently, because the thing began to hit me.

When those fists came down on me, I was sure there were daggers in them.

It was hitting me and hitting me, and here I had so cleverly trapped myself in my covers so that I couldn't do much about it.

And I was waiting to feel the pain of the daggers.

I knew that when you're being stabbed, you don't always even feel the cut all you feel is this warm sticky stuff start gushing out of you.

So I guess that's what I was waiting for.

It must have been that I was still half asleep, or I would have realized that whoever was hitting me didn't have daggers in their hands and they weren't anything like a ghost and on top of that, they weren't even hitting me hard.

It took me a while, but I suddenly realized what we had here was a young girl trying to beat me up.

I grabbed her wrists.

"Hey! Hey! What is this!" I said, still sounding scared, but getting some of my vast supply of courage back when I realized I could restain her so easily.

She wasn't saying, anything now, just sobbing and crying.

I felt like I must really be a bastard to cause a girl such pain, but I didn't know what I'd done. . .

And it was the dead of night, and the whole thing made less than no sense, and I couldn't even figure out who the girl was that I was holding.

So I held her wrists and tried to drag her with me across the room to the light switch, but the window was closer, so I pulled her there and opened the curtains.

It was Linda.

She was looking at me, and she wasn't looking at me.

Her eyes were wide, and she was staring in my face but she wasn't looking in my eyes, she was staring at my nose. Or through my nose. I couldn't tell exactly what she was looking at. It was unearthly, I guess you could say.

It was like she was seeing me, but not. with her eyes.

She was seeing me with something beyond her eyes.

"Linda, Linda, what's wrong?"

She didn't answer. She had quieted down and now she was just quietly crying.

"Linda!"

I tried shaking her.

She said, "Not in the rain, not in the bushes."

Now that was REALLY from nowhere. I though maybe what I was dealing with here was a crazy.

Then I took in the way her eyes were, and the fact that when she was hitting me, it wasn't really like she knew whre she was hitting, she just kinda flailed away at me.

I figured out that she was sleep walking.

I'd never come face to face with a sleepwalker before.

My friend Bob has a brother who sleepwalks.

In fact, his brother does more than walk.

One night, he walked out of the house and got on his skateboard and went all the way down the hill in front of their house and around another corner and down another hill, and they found him in his underwear (good thing he doesn't sleep in the nude) wondering around the parking lot of the all night supermarket.

He was asking which way it was to the Russian Front.

He was a big fan of war movies.

But I got it together enough to Figure that what I had on my hands was the world's most gorgeous sleepwalker.

So I shook her until finally (and it took a while) her eyes came back from looking at the stuff inside her head and started looking at me.

When she saw me standing in front of her, and felt my arms holding her, she pulled back her hand and slapped me.

I mean, she really WALLOPED me.

"What are you doing?" she asked me.

That was a laugh.

Then she realized that she was in my room and that she didn't know how she got there, and she probably was a little used to walking up places that she'd wondered to in her sleep, 'cause she shook her head and put her head in her hands, and she said, "Oh ... "

Then she looked at me, and I could see her fighting for control of her face muscles, like she was a little afraid that she would break up if she didn't try to wear her of snotty look.

It really made her look beautiful.

When a person tries to be strong, and you can see how hard their trying, and yet you can see that under all that they're just wanting to cry like a baby and ask for help.

And there was the moonlight coming in through the window, and she wasn't just pretty to me, she GLOWED.

And it was a setting that was real conducive to being honest.

We were half asleep, and ready to pour our guts out, and she was in that lacy, chiffony night dress and I was in nothing but a pair of athletic trunks and the light was real romantic, what there was of it.

And so she told me a lot of stuff, stuff about how she felt about her mother, and how she felt about some stuff that had gone on between her mother and me, and she cried on my shoulder and I stroked her head, and soon we were telling each other all about ourselves, our whole goddam LIFE STORIES and all that good stuff, and we were laughing, and having one hell of a time.

And then of course, we were sitting on the bed, and I started touching her face, and suddenly her face looked at mine, like with this look that said that she liked me and she wanted me ... wanted me to kiss her.

So I did.

I don't remember ever having a kiss like that.

Her lips were warm, and they were even a little wet from a tear that had come down her face when she was either laughing or crying.

And so the kiss tasted like salt, and it was sweet and hot and her lips melted against mine and our mouths were just like fused together with the need and affection we felt for each other.

There was a pause.

She took her hand and began running it through my hair, looking at my face like she had never seen anybody so handsome or so wonderful in her life.

That look made me feel proud and happy, and I kissed her and just couldn't stop kissing her.

I wanted to make love to her, but I really really liked her, and I didn't want her to think that I disrespected her.

With a girl as pretty as her, you gotta figure that every guy that got in reaching distance of her tried to jump on top of her, so I didn't want her to think I was just another hot high school jock trying to get in her pants.

But she put her hands on my sides and ran them up and down, and her hands were so warm and inviting against my flesh, and then she threw herself against me and wrapped her arms around me so her hands were gliding up and down my back, and she was holding on to me so tight and so lovingly that I felt like I was a lifeguard and I was saving her life and she was grateful grateful grateful ...

And she kept kissing me, and her tongue was whirling around in my mouth and she was kissing me so GOOD.

It wasn't like she was one of those girls who really knew HOW to kiss you, but she WANTED to kiss me so bad that everything she did was just exactly right.

And then she pulled away from me and she said, "Cal ... can we be naked together? Will you take me to bed?" What a question.

I hope you live long enough to hear such a question. It's a beautiful sound.

I reached for the straps of her night-thing, and and I pulled them down over her shoulder, and I ran my hands over those smooth, smooth, round warm shoulders, and then I bent forward and kissed her neck and her shoulders, and the flesh was so soft and yielding that I couldn't feel enough of it on my lips, and my tongue and in my mouth.

She sighed, and she ran the tips over her fingers over the nape of my neck, and geez!, that sent shivers down my spine.

And then she said, "Cal, let me stand up and take this thing off."

Oh boy oh boy oh boy.

And she slipped the nightgown over her body and it dropped at her feet.

And she stood naked in front of me as I sat on the bed.

And her beautiful, jutting teenage tits were right in front of my eyes.

She wrapped her hands around my neck and brought my face into them.

She wanted me to kiss them.

A put my hands on her round, wonderful hips and I leaned forward and licked right between those pointy, proud tits.

"Oh, Cal, I love the way your mouth feels on me," she said.

I pulled my head away and looked at those perfect breasts, those creamy white breasts with the cherry red tips that were already beginning to get a little hard.

Those tits were a perfect handful and I put my hands over them, and she moved into me so that the pressure on them would be greater.

I heard her take her breath in sharply.

I remembered from watch her play with herself how sensitive her breasts were.

Some girls go nuts when youu play with their tits, and Linda was one of those.

As I palmed those perfect tits, she began to squirm against my hands, and I could feel her tit-tips getting red-hot, and felt them straining against my fingers like they could get enough of the feeling that they were stirring up it her beautiful breasts.

"Oh Cal, kiss me there," she said.

She wasn't a girl that could talk dirty very easily, she was ... I don't know, she had this real dignity. It made anything she said about sex seem three times as sexy than if any other girl had said it.

So I bent to one of her breasts and licked at it, licked at it with a long broad stroke, just like it was a vanilla ice cream cone.

And then I took one of her cherry nipples in my mouth.

I sucked it and she gasped..

I swirled my tongue around it and around it it felt so hard and straining and hot and turned on in my mouth.

"Oh-Cal," she said, and it sounded like she was so swept away that her voice was quivering, just like I felt her body begin to do.

I moved my hands from her hips to her back so that I could press her turned-on tits more firmly against my mouth.

I licked them and I sucked them and I fondled whichever one wasn't in my mouth at the time, feeling the weight and warmth of it in my hand, and the neat contract between the soft firm flesh of them and the hardness of the nipple.

She was really getting out of breath by now from all the sighing and gasping that she was doing.

I looked up and her and she had her eyes closed, just lost in the feeling of having her tits petted and licked and sucked.

When she felt my mouth move away from her tits, she opened her eyes and looked down at me.

"Cal, make love to me," she said. She was getting so excited that she wanted me inside her already.

I was so taken by her ice cream cone breasts and the way they thrust out at me that I hadn't even really thought about her bush.

I ran my hands over her breasts, one more time, real slow, like I was bidding them a fond farewell, and that made her clothes her eyes once again as her hot little cherries dug hotly into my palms.

And then I kept moving my hands down and over her chest and her flat little belly (she was really slim waisted I could almost close my hands around her waist and that didn't leave her with much of a belly, but what there was was just great).

She opened her eyes to watch me. She wanted to see me as I touched her slit.

I ran my hands over her thighs first, and then traced a hand up the inside of her legs to get her to spread her legs a little.

I ran just one finger over her cunt lips, and they opened right away, like my finger had made them feel so good that they wanted to kiss it to thank it for the thrill it was sending through them.

And she was real wet inside, and I could feel her little clit stand up at attention like it didn't want to miss anything that was going to come up its alley.

I fingered her clit, and she put her hands on my shoulders, like she wouldn't be able to stand up for long if I kept doing what I was doing.

I was really making her pink little pussy run; her juice was spilling over her lips and a drop was trickling down her leg, and she kept up with these little animal-like moans pf pleasure like she had never felt anything so good.

And I was glad to be able to please her so much.

I had an advantage, I guess.

I had seen how she turned herself on, I was using that knowledge the best I could.

I was so glad that I had seen how she made herself come. I wanted to give her everything I could, and I was glad I didn't have to fumble like some dumb ox, but instead I could do exactly as I had seen her do herself.

"Oh, Cal," she sighed, "You know just what I like!"

And she said it like I must be some kind of hero, or the prince of her dreams like all the other jerks that she went out with must have treated her pretty pink pussy like it was a piece of lox.

And now she was humping her hips into me as I played with her beautiful beaver, and that gorgeous little bush was pushing toward me, looking so good and so hungry that it was making ME hungry.

I wanted to suck her.

I had never sucked a girl before, and I was never really sure that I wanted to.

But looking at that pretty, juicy pussy humping into my hand like it really needed so much to be loved, I felt like I wanted to suck it even worse than I had wanted to suck Linda's tits that first time I saw her.

So I moved my hands down to her ass.

Her round, full ass globes felt like a perfect fit in my hands.

I have rather large hands, which makes me a good basketball player, 'cause it gives me control of the ball.

And I love basketball with a passion, I guess you could say, but no basket ball ever felt half so good in my hands as that round, smooth, warm, perfect ass.

And I never had such perfect control of a basketball.

A basketball doesn't feel much one way or the other about being in your hands.

Linda's ass loved being in my hands, and she wiggled it a little to show me how much she liked it.

And then I put my face to her bush.

She gasped again, and that really excited me, 'cause it was a gasp that said, Oh God, he's really going to suck me, it's a dream come true.

She told me later that she'd never been sucked, and that my mouth was the first that she had ever felt on her cunt.

So I ran my tongue along her her deep little hot pink slit, and she kept wiggling that ass and humping into me, and it was a great feeling, to feel her hot and wet flesh against my tongue and to feel her pushing her eager little bush against me because I was giving her an intense thrill that she had never had before.

"Calllillll!" she groaned, "Thank you, thank you . ... oh, that's so good!"

And she pressed her juicy pussy up against me and ground her pelvis around like that was the best feeling her cunt had ever known.

And my tongue found her clit and a flicked across it the way I had seen her play with it using her finger tip.

Except that my tongue was wet and warm and my mouth was sucking and kissing her cunt at the same time, and so the feeling was much, much, more exciting to her.

She really was going a little out of her head, and I was so proud that I could drive her that crazy.

She slipped down through my hands all of a sudden, and then she was on her knees before me.

She pulled off the short I still had on and slid them over my feet.

And then she nuzzled her body in between my legs and put her hands on my thighs and looked up at me.

"I ... I've never done this before, so you tell me if I'm doing it right," she said, real soft so that I don't think I might have gotten all she said if I hadn't been watching her lips at the same time.

Then she bent her head down and began kissing my cock.

She needn't have worried about doing it right.

Everything Linda did felt as right as rain. Maybe that was because I liked her so much and she liked me.

People, let me tell you: when possible, try and have sex with people that you treasure and who treasure you. When you do that, sex isn't just good, it's cosmic.

She held my cock in her fist for a moment and just jacked me off for a while, watching me grow long and hard under her touch.

She looked at it intently, like my prick was the most marvelous invention ever created.

And when her fist-fucking had me so excited and aching that jism began to bubble up from my prick slit, she stuck out her tongue and tasted the stuff.

She must have like it, 'cause she went down for more.

She swished her tongue around the head, the jism hung like silver threads from her lips and tongue when she brought her head up and looked at me.

"You taste so good to me Cal," she said, "I want you in my mouth."

It was like she was waiting for my permission to blow me.

She must have seen how much the idea excited me, or maybe she realized that that was why my prick sort of gave a jump in her hand.

In any case, she bent down and took the whole head of my throbbing cock into her mouth and closes her beautiful, succulent lips around it and began to give my rod a really good, hot sucking.

She just sucked at the head for a while, like she was a baby sucking hot milk from a bottle.

And then when she got used to the hot, hard, throbbing feel of my cock in her mouth, I guess she wanted more of it, because she slid down it slowly, like she wanted to savor every new inch of it in her mouth, like cock meat had i finer flavor than anything that had ever been in her mouth before.

I was making little, or probably not so little moans with the incredible heat and pleasure her lovely, sucking mouth was giving me.

I only became aware that I was doing it because she slid all the way up my shaft and took it out of her mouth for a moment to smile at me.

"Am I doing it right?" she said.

She was smiling because she knew she was, and she was really proud that she was proving herself to be such an ace fellatio artist.

But I could tell that she wanted some encouragement from me, and more than that, she probably wanted to just hear my voice, to know that we were still in communication, know what I mean?

Sometimes you just start going through the moves with someone, and you don't say anything except to grunt and groan, and you get lost in it somehow, lost in your own feelings maybe, and even while you're right there, so close to the person, you really aren't there at all.

So Linda wanted to know I was still right there with. her.

And I was, so I told her so.

"Linda," I said, "Everything you do is right. Because ... because I love you."

I had no idea that was what was going to come out of my mouth, but when it-did, it felt right and I was glad that I had said it.

And I knew from the look on her face that for once I had said the right thing.

She lifted her head up and I knew she wanted a kiss, so I bent down and kissed her on the lips and they were warm and wet and a little slick with the come stuff that she had sucked from my rod.

And we kept kissing that same kiss for a long long time, until we couldn't tell whose tongue was whose and whose lips were whose.

And while we were doing that she started to stroke my straining cock with both her hands, one hand kind of caressing my balls and the base of my prick, and the other hand wrapped around the head, and upper part of the shaft, moving up and down, fucking me real gently and . real lovingly and GOD was it FANTASTIC.

And the jizz was really flowing out of my prick slit now, and it was making my cock flesh just super slippery so that her hands were sliding over and over it and up and down it like she was giving my aching hot flesh a soothing massage with my own come lotion.

Except that the more she soothed me the hotter I.got.

I had to to take my mouth from hers to let out a groan, 'cause I was so come-ready that I felt like I would die.

And as soon as her lips pulled away from mine, they plunged down to my dripping hot cock.

And she ran them vise Tike up and down the pulsing length of it, up and down, pressing her lips firmly against the outer edges of it while she licked down the center of it with her tongue.

Oh God, that was incredible!

I gripped the muscles in my groin together to keep the come from spurting from my jizz-filled balls and shaft. The move made my prick jump in her hand and in her mouth and she could tell that I was having trouble holding back my come.

So she took her mouth from it and let her hands lie still for a moment to let me recover.

"I love it Cal, I love the taste of you and the feel of you in my mouth. I love the way it makes you moan," she said.

I was just going to bend down to kiss her when she smiled real coy and she ducked back down to my cock.

Now she grasped the base of it firmly in both hands so that it stood straight up and quivering.

Then slowly oh God, real slowly she lowered her lips over the head, puckering up her lips as tight as she could so that they would really press the soft heat of her mouth all around my prick.

And down she went, the pre-come spilling down my shaft and the wetness of her warm mouth making her slide down easily.

It felt like a long long way down.

I don't have the world's biggest cock, but the slow way she was sucking me up and down, bobbing her head in slow motion, made me feel like my cock must have reached over halfway to the stars.

And then she started speeding up.

It was real gradual the way she started blowing me faster and faster, but it seemed like all of a sudden, she sucking at me really really rapidly, her lips plunging down on me hard and sliding up me real real tight, and the whole throbbing, burning length of my cock was enveloped by that beautiful loving sucking mouth, and I could tell she wanted to make me come.

"No, please, please Linda," I said, "Can't I be inside of you?"

She slid up my aching, pounding flesh rod and she licked the tip of it before she answered.

"We are on tenuous moral ground," she said after a moment where her eyebrows almost met, her forehead was so furrowed in thought.

She was a real brilliant girl, and I can't bring myself to hold it against her that she sometimes talked like she was in a classroom even when she was sitting between my legs with my dripping hot cock in her hand.

In fact, you can call me weird, but it made me like her even better.

"Cal, after all, we are cousins, and this would be perceived by many people as being ... well, perverse ... "

That was sort of a hard thing to argue.

I tried, I opened my mouth I few times to try and say, "Yeah, but ... " but I couldn't think of anything to follow it with.

So there was this silence.

But then she looked up at me again, and she said, "But ... this feels so right ... Maybe ... maybe it's above morals ... That is to say, we would be following a higher morality ... "

I knew what she was trying to say, and I nodded pulled her down so that we were lying beside each other on the bed.

"Let's make love," she said, "Only, Cal, it had better be only this once."

I nodded and then we kissed, and as we lay on our sides, I reached down between her soft, fleshy thighs and found her cunt.

I ran my fingers through the wet and throbbing lips of her pussy and she squirmed under my hand.

She was so ready to be fucked that she had to dig her nails into my arms just to keep from losing her mind with the sensation that my fingers in her hot pink runny slit were sending all through her body.

She. lifted one leg and threw it over my hips so that her pussy was more open to my fingers, and I knew that she wanted me to feel up her tight hole with my fingers.

So I slipped my finger into her ready hole and it slid in like she had been waiting for it for ages.

She was so excited that one finger just was sort of moving around loose in her, and so I put three fingers up her and that was just right.

"Ahh!" she cried out and she drove her hips dwon on my fingers and she rubbed her bush up against my leg so that she could stimulate her hot hard clit at the same time.

And also she did to turn me on.

She knew what the wet hot feel of her fuck-ready pussy humping against my leg would do to me.

And as she humped her beautiful moist beaver so hotly against me, she reached down and pulled on my prick, half jacking me off, and half showing me that she wanted to pull my prick right into her hungry pussy.

I was having a lot of fun playing with her, 'cause it was making her go so crazy, and I wanted to do it some more before I went into her because I knew when I did that I wouldn't last long.

Let's face it, I don't get laid all that often that the feel of pussy is like second nature to my cock.

I tend to be a quick come. This is only a phase in my life though, I assure you.

But she was so hot and runny that she wasn't having any more of this foreplay crap.

And that soft burning pussy meat sliding up and down my thigh was getting to me, too.

So I guess I was as ready as she was when she just rolled over on her back and said, "Come inside me, Cal."

And I rolled on top of her, and she didn't let go off my prick, like she was afraid if she did I would maybe wonder off somewhere.

Fat chance.

And she guided me right up to her hole and slipped the head right in, which I was grateful for 'cause frankly sometimes I have trouble finding the thing on my own. .

And then she took her hand away and waited for me to slip it up inside her.

So I grabbed her round soft shoulders and a plunged into her, all the way.

And she dug her nails into my shoulder and right away began to slide her tight pussy up and down on my pole, arching against me so the I felt her bush grinding against mine and her hard cherry tit points just burning into me like she was trying to put her brand onvmy chest.

And she moved and squirmed and humped under me, so excited to have my hard meat up inside her clenching little cunt, that I barely humped into her at all, because if I moved too much on top of what she was doing I knew I was going to shoot it.

And it felt so good, being inside her and loving her wet warm sucking love hole with my come-filled, trembling cock, that I NEVER wanted to come.

I just wanted to stay in that perfect pussy, the sweet sucking hot wet love box for the rest of my life.

"Oh, Cal," she said, "You feel so good, so good and so deep inside me."

She sobbed as she said it, the intensity of the feeling making her cry with the joy of it.

I know exactly how she felt.

And whether I would come or not, I just had to fuck into that perfect, pulsing, tight young pussy, and I had to let her know how it felt to have me driving hard up into her with all my heat and all my love.

So I drew the length of my aching hard rod out of her slit, feeling it suck tight around it like it never wanted to let me go, and then I paused a second and then I drove back into her.

And she threw her arms around me and let out a high little scream of incredible delight, and she began kissing and sucking and biting on my neck and shoulder as a pulled out and fucked into her again with everything I had.

And she humped that sucking little slit of her down over my pole and her as was bouncing up and down like crazy, making the bed squeal just like she was as she dugs her fingers into my ass and tried to push every last inch of me up her tight, twisting, sucking, perfect little cunt-mouth.

"Oh Cal," she said, "Fuck me."

She said it just once, and she put it right in my ear like the walls were maybe bugged and she didn't want anyone except me to ever know she said it.

Somehow I just knew that it was the first time in her life that she had ever said it. And she had said it because she was so thrilled by the way I was making love to her, and she said it to excite me, to make me come.

And I fucked into her hard and fast, and her hands pumping my ass into her told me that was exactly how she wanted it now, and I fucked in and out of that loving, pulsing, perfect hot pink pussy of her until that tightness of her twat tunnel was just too much for my come-filled cock to take any more.

And I knew that I was going to come and I wanted like hell for her to come too, so I reached between us and I strummed my fingers real fast across her clit, the way I knew she would like.

"Linda, Linda, I'm going to come. I can't stop it. Come too. Please. Come when I do ... NOW!"

And I lunged up into her as I felt the hot some stuff blast out of my rod, blasting and boiling out from the slit in my prick, shooting so hot and so hard into her that I had to scream, and she loved it and wanted me to come and come so she reached down and grabbed my balls and squeezed them so that mor and more jizz would pump up into her burning pussy and soothe "the flames the were making her toss and twist under me.

"Come, lover," she said.

And I pulled my prick from the clutches of her cunt even while I was coming and I lunged into her one more time, hard and farther than I ever had before, and she screamed and her nails dug so far into my ass that I screamed to and then she was coming and coming with these incredibly strong gulping spasms of her cunt mouth around the whole fucking length of my spurting cock and it was so hot and so tight and wet and she just kept twisting and tossing under me and grinding her beautiful little bush against mine as she threw her head back and scream and arched to thrust the searing hot tips of her perfect tits into my flesh and that cunt of her was still clutching and climaxing and swallowing my shooting come and she was screaming those screams of delight and saying me name over and over until she just froze, just suddenly grabbed me as she ached up toward me and was very, very very still so that the only thing moving was the sucking and swallowing of her cunt, drawing every single drop of my come up, up into her rippling, runny hot pussy. Oh GOD!

It was like nothing else I've ever felt, and maybe never will again.

And then she went limp under me, and she threw her arms around me and hugged me tight and her body was so perfect for mine and so warm that we just melted together.

And we spent the whole night like that, so close together we were like one person.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Some experiences that we have are very hard to be objective about.

And I suppose it is just these experiences which it is most important to be objective about.

I imagine you would like a specific case to illustrate what I'm talking about.

Then, for example: say that two people share a very special experience. This experience is so intense that they feel that the sharing of it might make them lovers.

But then say this situation is made complex by the fact that they have a social relationship which makes their desire to relate as lovers inappropriate.

I suppose that I am still being somewhat too general.

What happened was that my cousin Calvin and I shared a very special experience and we ... I suppose you could say that we fell in love.

It was a type of love not suited for people who must relate as cousins.

I cannot say that Calvin and I found a solution that was totally satisfactory, but we did finally arrive at the best possible compromise.

We agreed to remain friends very special friends, but still just friends as opposed to lovers.

We write to each other all the time now, and we can tell each other things that we really can't tell to anybody else.

We are looking forward to the time when we can see each other again.

Of course, we are a little worried about that too, since we remain very attractive to each other in a highly inappropriate way.

So we have agreed that we won't see each other until both of us have found an intense and satisfying love relationship that will allow us to channel all the affections that might be labeled as purely "sexual" toward this person and not toward each other.

I have found a boy that I like very much.

His name is George.

In his letters, Calvin insists upon calling George my "hot prospect."

As much as I dislike this term, I must admit that George is indeed the "hottest prospect" that I have.

I don't believe in love at first sight, at least I didn't, but that is what happened with George.

The circumstances under which we might are rather embarrassing in that I'm afraid they paint a rather grimy picture of my moral character.

However, they way we met is the way we met, and I can't lie about it.

I was walking home one day when it started to rain and I was dressed up rather nicely, and when it started to rain on me, I began to curse the heavens with some very unlady-like language.

I heard someone laugh behind me and I turned and it was a young man with an umbrella.

He shared it with me, and offered to walk me home.

We got to talking and I liked him instinctively and found that we had some much in common that I told him that I lived six blocks further than I actually did.

And by the time we got to that sixth block I liked him so much and trusted him so much that I even admitted what I had done.

He was very flattered, and since we were by now much closer to his apartment than mine, he invited me up.

I would like to be able to say he offered me some wine and then seduced me, but there wasn't even that mitigating factor.

We simply were so attracted to each other that we found each other embracing passionately on his bed.

I kept telling myself that I should protest when he took of my blouse and began to fondle and kiss my breasts, but instead I found that my hands were uncontrollably attracted to the buttons and buckles and zippers on his clothing and I can offer no explanation for the fact that I was soon naked in his arms.

He was more experienced than any lover I had ever had.

He went very slowly, taking his time in gently caressing my breasts with his hands and then licking at the tips with slow, broad sweep of his tongue.

He sucked and fondled my breasts until I could feel myself growing very moist and warm between my legs.

It was like there was a liquid flame flowing through my veins, and all my veins somehow ended at my vagina.

I wanted to have him inside me very badly and I think I surprised him when, before he even began to caress my genitals, a reached down and took his penis in my hand and stroked it until it grew hard.

George is several years older than me and was amazed and delighted that I should prove so sexually precocious.

I gripped his organ loosely in my hand, and began to masturbate him. It felt good to have his manhood throbbing in my hand, and I was pleased at the pleasure I could give him.

I was even more pleased when he said my touch was perfect, and that no other woman had made him feel so good. I suppose you may think he was "handing me a line" as they say, but if you knew George, you'd know that he was incapable of such a thing.

His pre-coital semen began to flow from the head of his penis and it made the shaft sensually slippery.

His delight in my sexual know-how made me want to impress him even more so I bent down to his erect penis and began to perform fellatio on him.

It aroused me to feel him undulating under me and moaning with the intensity of his passion.

Soon he positioned me so that he could perform cunnilingus on me while I kissed and sucked on his penis.

It was the first time I had engaged in this form of mutual oral-genital stimulation.

It was quite marvelous.

We both had orgasms in each other's mouths.

This was the first time I ever had a man ejaculate in my mouth, and though I was afraid that I would find the experience distasteful, I found it delightful.

To feel the full, pulsating length of his erect organ in my mouth, and to feel the way the flesh seemed to strain to meet my mouth in order to ease the ache of desire with which it burned these were incredible sensations.

And when he began to come, I felt his penis twitch and then I felt spasms down the whole length of it as I plunged to take as much of him as I could in my mouth and throat.

And his manhood began pumping his semen into me, and I found it wonderfully warm and thick, and I swallowed each jet of it as it spurted into my mouth from his climaxing organ.

All the while, I kept my hand wrapped around the base of the shaft, gripping it firmly and jerking it up and down to stimulate him even more.

And he moaned with such delight, I was became thoroughly aroused by his sexual climax.

I became so aroused finally by the feel of his orgasm throbbing and spurting in my mouth and the feel of his mouth on clitoris and vagina that I came too.

He felt me climaxing and at that instant he inserted two of his fingers into my finger and thrust them in and out to emulate the thrusts of a penis.

I moaned so loud that I embarrassed myself and he began to laugh, even as he face was buried in the soft wet flesh of my womanhood, and the vibrations of his laughter made my orgasm feel even more fantastic than it had up to that point.

After that first encounter, George and I have been seeing each other regularly.

I know I like very, very much and I am beginning to suspect that I may even love him.

Calvin writes that he is currently "screening his hottest prospects" and that he thinks that any day now he will settle down with one girl and "go as steady as is possible for a Casanova like me."

My own impression is that Calvin is too enamored with the idea of falling in love itself to settle into a permanent relationship.

He's not the most mature male in the world, but I love him anyway.

As a friend.

He showed me ... that I have heart to be touched.

And that if you don't let anyone touch your heart, you soon forget it's there.

Because try as hard as you might, you cannot touch your heart by yourself.

EPILOGUE

Las Vegas is one big clip joint.

But Jane and I came back from our vacation more in love than we were when we came back from our first honeymoon.

And our vacation didn't just work wonders for us.

It worked wonders for Cal, too.

The Cal that came home from Chicago is much more of a grown-up than the one who left.

Maybe it was just having some time away from him that made me realize how much he's grown.

But I think it's more than that and I find myself wondering what might have happened in Chicago to make him so much less a kid and so much more a man.

But he won't talk about it, and I have a feeling he can't be pushed into talking about it. I guess it's just one of those things you have to accept and be grateful for and thank God that it happened, whatever it was.
Licking Cousin Linda ....(70k)    by Mickey Wolf




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