In this volume, you will read about five different girls and the experiences they had with sexual precociousness while they were still teens.
Kathy first made it with her boyfriend in the movie theater, and then the two of them retired to his parked car to finish what they had begun. Later, her boyfriend's buddy gets in on the act.
Anne learned early on in high school that the way to A's was through lays. She seduced her history teacher, and then was surprised by her gym teacher, who wanted a little action, too.
Mary was trying to get her father's lawn mower to work, when her sexy young neighbor suggested that he had some more interesting machinery for her to tinker with.
Poor Joan, new to New York City, off the plane from Sacramento, learned of the wicked ways of the city when she was raped, first by a cab driver, and later by a man posing as a fashion photographer.
Finally, Diane vowed to take revenge on her parents, who separated her from her sexy black boyfriend and moved out to the country, by sleeping with each and every one of the members of her new high school's varsity football team.
Perhaps these girls will remind you of someone you know. Or perhaps you will wish, after reading their stories, that you knew someone just like any one of them. Read, and enjoy.
CASE HISTORY ONE
SUBJECT: Kathy C. AGE: seventeen
Kathy has very big tits. When she walked into my office, I thought that I would cream in my pants. If you read her story, perhaps you will have the same reaction.
INTERVIEW ONE
I'm afraid that my boyfriend is gay. His name is Jimmy Fonatana. I'm really in love with him. He's really neat looking. But I think he's gay.
Jimmy is two years older than I am. He drives a car. We live in Nassau County, and our parents work in New York City. We both attend Ben Franklin High School.
Jimmy flunked a couple of grades. He's a senior at the high school, and so am I. He flunked because he really was into drugs for a little while, but he's not into drugs, anymore.
Usually we go out to the shopping mall on the weekends, or to the parkway diner. We go out a lot and just cruise, and listen to the tape player in his car.
He likes to listen to Led Zeppelin, and to the Rolling Stones, and Jim Morrison, and Jethro Tull. I like AC/DC, but he doesn't. We don't do drugs.
Jimmy used to do drugs. They really messed up his head, so now he doesn't do them anymore. That's why he missed a couple years of school. Because of drugs.
The first time we had sex was on our fourth date. This was before I thought that he was gay. I always knew about his friend Gerry, but I never thought about them being gay.
Gerry wasn't with us, of course, the first time that we made it. It was just Jimmy and me. He took me out to the movies, and then we made it afterwards.
The movie was really good. I don't even remember what it was called. But making it with Gerry in the back row was really good. That's what I mean.
He parked the car in the parking lot in the mall, and we went into the theater. Jimmy paid for both of our. tickets. That was when I realized he wanted something.
Boys don't pay for you and things like that unless they expect something in return. Still, I wouldn't have let him pay for me if I didn't want to give him something.
We walked into the theater holding hands. I like to hold hands. Jimmy has big hands, and they are very cool, and firm. He swung his arm back and forth, and my arm swung, too.
I wanted to sit in the smoking section, but Jimmy said that we could sit in the non smoking section and still smoke. He said nobody would care.
We sat in the back row on the right. We ate some popcorn. The popcorn was greasy, and we had to wipe our fingers on our jeans.
The movie didn't start right away. They were showing Coming Attractions first. I don't remember what the coming attractions were. Jimmy had his hand on my knee.
His hand was warm or maybe it was my knee that was warm. Anyway, I remember that my leg felt warm, mostly right at the knee, where he had his hand.
I looked at his hand, and I put mine on top of it. I stroked his fingers, and rubbed the back of his palm. They were still showing the Coming Attractions.
The theater got dark. People stopped talking. Our popcorn was all gone, already. Jimmy put one arm around my shoulders. I rubbed the back of his palm.
"You're really beautiful," he said to me. "You really are. I really think that you're the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, baby."
"Oh," I said. I giggled. He was leaning towards me and talking into my ear. I could feel his lips against my ear. They were wet.
"I really think that I'm in love with you, baby," he said. "I really do. I really do think that I'm in love with you, because you're so beautiful."
"Oh," I said, giggling again. "That's very nice." I couldn't think of anything else to say. I stroked the back of his palm.
"Mmmmm," he said. He turned his palm over, and took my hand in his. Our fingers intertwined. His arm was warm around my shoulders.
He buried his face in my neck, and he caressed the nape of my neck. He nipped at the flesh at the nape of my neck. We held hands very tightly.
"Ohhh," he said, whispering into my ear. He stroked my neck, and nibbled on it. He played with a few strands of my hair. He pulled my hand towards himself.
His thigh pressed against mine. His thigh was really warm. I almost thought that I could feel all his blood pumping through his thigh. I closed my eyes.
He pulled my hand over to his lap. He gave me something to hold. It was thick and meaty and warm, and it was a little sticky. I put my hand around it.
"Oh, yes, baby," he whispered into my ear. "Oh, yes. That's very nice. Just stroke it. Just like this. Just stroke it like this."
He showed me how he wanted me to stroke it. He put his hand around mine, and he moved my hand up and down. I held him lightly.
"Hold tighter," he said. "Hold as tight as you like, and stroke up and down just like that. Oh, yes, that's right. Oh, baby."
I stroked just the way he wanted me to. He moved his hand away from mine, and opened the front of my shirt. "You're beautiful, baby," he said.
He opened my shirt all the way down the front. I would have helped him with my bra, but I was busy. I was stroking him, up and down and up and down.
He got my bra loose all by himself, anyway. He leaned towards me, and licked my nipples. They were pink, and pointed, and erect.
He moved his tongue in circles around and around my nipples. He massaged the back of my neck, and licked my nipples, flicking at their points with the tip of his tongue.
I stroked him, up and down and up and down. He licked my nipples, and buried his head between my breasts. He bit into my skin, and breathed heavily.
His hips moved up and down as I stroked him. Up and down they moved, as he pressed himself into my strokes, and pulled down away from them.
He was very hot and excited, and wet. He breathed heavily against my chest, muffling the sound of his voice right between my breasts, gripping the back of my neck.
His ass came up off the seat, and he sat halfway out of his chair, suspended in midair. I was glad that we were in the back row. He wasn't blocking anyone's view.
Up and down he moved. I didn't have to stroke him so much, now. He mostly did the work himself, moving in and out of my encircled palm.
His hair tickled my nipples. He had stopped licking them. I could feel the hair on top of his head against them. My nipples tingled, and ached.
Jimmy gasped, suddenly. I could feel something tighten in my hand. Then my palm filled up with warm, sticky liquid, thick like pudding.
He sighed. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He dried off my hand, and leaned back into his seat. He cleaned himself up.
I rearranged myself. Jimmy leaned over and put his head in my lap, and then he went to sleep, and he didn't wake up until the movie was over.
After the movie, he took my hand, and we walked out to the car. We didn't say anything to each other at all. We got into the car.
Before Jimmy started up the engine, he reached over the seat and put his hand on my lap. He stroked me. "Okay?" he said. "Was that okay, baby?"
"Yeah," I said, "sure it was okay. Sure." His hand was warm. I was warm between my legs. I felt a little bit damp, and excited.
"You want to go all the way?" he said. "It really isn't any different from the way it was in there. Except you don't use your hands."
I looked deeply into his eyes. They were brown. I thought that I was falling in love with him. I said, "Sure. Whatever you want."
"Oh, baby," he said. "Are you sure? Are you really sure?" He stroked me even harder. The expression on his face was very intense. I really thought that he was falling in love with me. I thought we were in love with one another.
"I'm really sure," I said. "I really am sure." I squeezed my thighs together, and held his hand between them. It felt good.
He smiled and stroked my inner thighs. He said, "Oh, baby, you don't know how much this means to me. You really don't know how much."
I said, "I'll do anything that you want me to do, as long as it doesn't hurt." I loosened my thighs, and let him pull his hand away.
He started the engine. "Have you ever gone all the way before?" he said. He looked straight ahead of himself as he asked it.
I said, "No. I never have."
He turned to me. "Oh, baby," he said, smiling. "Oh, baby, that's really wonderful." He reached over and stroked my cheek. "Oh, baby," he said.
I smiled at him. "Will it hurt?" I said. "I don't want to do anything that will hurt at all. Otherwise, I'll do anything that you want."
"It might hurt a little bit," he said, "if you still have your hymen. Do you still have your hymen? If I break it, it will hurt."
"I think I still have it," I said. "I'm pretty sure that I do. I don't really know, but I'm pretty sure that I still have it."
"Then it might hurt a little," he said, "if I break it. But it won't hurt for very long. And anyway, you have to lose it sometime."
"I know," I said, sighing. "I guess I know." I looked at him closely. I decided that it wouldn't hurt with him, no matter what.
He put the car in gear, and we drove off. "We'll have to do it in the car," he said, "unless you can think of anywhere that you'd like to go."
"No," I said, thinking about it, "I don't think that there really is anywhere that we can go. We can't go home to my house, that's for sure."
"We can't go home to my house, either," he said. "Sorry. But I know a place where we can go and park, and we can get into the back seat."
I looked into the back seat. I looked pretty roomy, and spacious. "I guess that's okay," I said. "Why don't we do that, then?"
"Then that's what we'll do," he said. We didn't say anything else. We drove to-where he was going. It didn't take very long to get there.
He parked the car under a big tree, off in the woods. I think we were near a park. I don't really remember. "Here we are," he said.
"Okay," I said. I climbed over the front seat, and got into the back seat of the car. "You just tell me what it is that you want to do," I said.
"Oh, baby," he said, "you're really beautiful. You know that? You really are beautiful. I don't know anyone in the world as beautiful as you."
"Oh," I said. "It's really nice of you to say that. I'm really flattered." I got into the back seat. I waited for him to get back there with me.
He got in the back seat with me. He climbed over the back of the front seat, lifting first one leg over, and then the other. He lowered his weight onto the seat next to me.
"You sure that you want to do this?" he said. "I wouldn't want you to do anything that you don't really want to do." He spoke very softly.
"Well," I said, "if it were anybody but you, I wouldn't do it. But since it's you, well, you know I trust you. It's okay."
"Oh, wow," he said, "that's really beautiful. You're really beautiful." He leaned forward and put his arms around my back. I leaned into him.
His arms were powerful, and encircling. It was nice to have them around my back. I felt all his strength. He kissed me, passionately.
His face was smooth, and clean shaven. His cheeks were warm. His lips were smooth and rubbery, and wet. I opened my mouth, and he slid his tongue into it.
His tongue moved towards the back of my throat. It was slippery, and slimy. He touched this insides of my cheeks with the tip of his tongue.
He opened his mouth very wide, and pressed his lips around my mouth. His hands wandered up and down my back, from the nape of my neck to the small of my back.
My breasts pressed up against his chest. My nipples burned with excitement. They pressed hard against his deep chest. Our chests rubbed together.
He moved his hands down my sides, and stroked my belly, and the sides of my stomach. He unbuttoned my. shirt, and I helped him with my bra, again.
He cupped his hands around my breasts, and fondled them. He stroked the undersides of them, and played with my nipples. He stroked and caressed me.
I moved my hands up and down his back. His back was firm and muscular. I pulled at his t shirt. He leaned back, and pulled it off over his head.
His chest was hairless and muscular. His nipples were brown, and round and pointed. He had big pectoral muscles, and hard, thick upper arms.
His shoulders were wide, and sturdy. I leaned forward and kissed his shoulders, and his nipples. I licked his breast bone.
I slid a line of saliva over his breast bone, through the valley between his pectoral muscles. I moved my head down to his stomach, and kissed his navel.
He had a line of hair, black and fine, which started at his navel and disappeared into the waistline of his jeans. I traced the line of hair with my finger.
He pulled off my shirt and my bra , and buried his head between my breasts. My nipples were erect. He moved his hands down my sides, and unbuttoned the snap of my jeans.
My panties were damp with my excitement. He pulled my jeans down to my knees, and slid his fingers up under my panties. His hands were cool against my hot flesh.
He moved his head down from my breasts, and licked my inner thighs. He spread cool saliva over them, from the insides of my kneecaps, to my crotch.
Carefully, he pulled my panties down to my knees. The lips of my vagina were swollen and hot. He placed a hand over my outer lips, and stroked them.
"Oh, baby," he said, "that's really beautiful. That's really beautiful, baby, it really is." He stroked the outer lips of my vagina.
He moved his hand palm down across them, stroking them. His palm was much cooler than my outer lips, which were hot and now a little bit damp.
He kissed my navel, and worked his lips down to my outer lips, kissing and licking my hot flesh. Slowly, he licked each of my lips. His tongue ran smoothly over my outer lips He darted his tongue in between them, and I spread my legs wide. My vagina opened up to him, exposing my clitoris, and my inner lips.
"Oh, baby," he said. He breathed heavily. He shifted around on the seat. He rearranged himself. He was stiff between the legs.
I stroked the back of his neck, and he pressed his face against my exposed vagina, and licked my inner lips. My clitoris was engorged, and tingling.
He moved his mouth to the head of my clitoris, sliding his lips down over it. He flicked his tongue back and forth over the head of it.
I shivered, and moved down lower on the seat. He gasped. "Oh, baby," he said, suddenly pulling away from me, and undoing his pants.
He slid his jeans and his white jockey shorts down to his knees, exposing his penis. It was thick and hard, purple at its tip, and red up and down its length.
His testicles were hard, pulled tightly up between his thighs, which were thick and white and soft, and hairless. I reached out to stroke his inner thighs.
"Oh," he said, as I moved my fingers up and down his inner thighs. I cupped his testicles in my hand, as if I were weighing them.
I slid my palm over his penis, from the base of the shaft to its tip. He shivered. I pressed it back up against his flat stomach. It reached to his navel.
"Do you like it?" he said, looking down at his penis.
"It's very large," I said.
He smiled. "Thank you," he said, as I stroked it, and cupped my hand under his testicles. I slid down on the seat, lying on my back along the length of it.
The seat was hardly long enough for me to be able to stretch out, and so I rested my head against the door, and bent my knees.
He kneeled over me. He pressed his hands down on the seat, at either side of my head, and I helped him guide his hardened penis into me.
I hoisted up my hips, and grabbed his penis in one hand. Slowly, we slid him into me, Jimmy pushing forward and down with his hips, as I slid him into me.
His chest touched my nipples, as he moved his body lower and lower, until he was all of the way inside of me. It didn't hurt at all.
"I guess maybe I never had a hymen in the first place," I said, looking up at him, as he slid the full length of his penis into me.
"Some girls don't," he said, softly. He closed his eyes for a second, and pressed his hips as far forward as he could. "I'm all the way in," he said.
I waited to see what he would do. It felt really nice to have him inside of me, but I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. I ran my fingers up and down his back, to his ass.
I stroked his buttocks. He said, "Mmmmm," and started moving. He moved his hips forward and down, and then drew them slowly away, pushing his penis into me, and then withdrawing it.
In awhile I was moving, too. I reached up and wrapped my arms around his back, moving them up and down his back from his shoulders to his buttocks.
I moved my hips up and down, as if they were on hinges. He sighed, and moved up and down on top of me. The springs in the car seat squeaked.
He moved slowly in and out of me. He started moving faster. He moved faster, and faster, and the faster he moved, the harder he breathed.
I breathed hard, too. My nipples were hard and erect. My groin burned with excited desire. He reached all the way into me, plunging harder and harder.
I moved my hips up at him and tried not to make too much noise. He was panting really heavily. I could hear his lungs filling and emptying.
His buttocks popped up and down. He groaned. His thrusts became irregular, harsh, and arhythmic. Suddenly they were very fast.
He landed three hard thrusts into me, and then one long slow one. I could feel him emptying himself inside of me. He spurted slowly, in a long stream.
Three more short spurts followed the first. He came quickly, and I was halfway to my climax. I bounced up and down on the seat a long time, after he came.
He pulled out of me, and sat back, to watch, as I bounced up and down, letting my contracted muscles come to full relaxation.
I bounced up and down a long time. I panted. He stroked my legs. When I finished, I leaned over and sucked the tip of his cock dry. That was my first time.
INTERVIEW TWO
Kathy's second interview was more in depth. She talked for quite awhile about what it was that made her think that Jimmy was gay. And then she told me all about what came of her suspicions. She spoke of sexual experiences so scintillating that I had difficulty maintaining my professional distance. What normal, red blooded male would not have been tempted to sink his fangs into Kath's luscious tits, the nipples of which pointed through her skimpy shirt like arrowheads piercing through the flesh, as she sat there telling of the time that she let her boyfriend and her boyfriend's best pal have her-simultaneously?
The first time that I thought there was something between Jimmy and his friend Gerry was the time that we went on a class trip, to the Cloisters, in Manhattan.
This was in the autumn, in the middle of October. It really was a very nice day outside. We all enjoyed it thoroughly. Jimmy and I were really tight.
His buddy Gerry was there, too. I like Gerry. I always have liked Gerry. He and Jimmy are the best of pals. They do everything together.
They look really different from one another, though. Jimmy is medium height, and he has a prominent nose, and jet black, fine and shiny hair, parted in the middle.
The hair hangs down over his forehead, and over his ears. He has narrow hips, and a chunky, well formed ass. I like to sink my fingers into his buttocks.
He has a deep chest. His pectoral muscles are well defined. The day that we went to the Cloisters, he was wearing a shiny blue polo shirt, that was almost see through.
His muscles stood out against the shirt, and his nipples poked against it. His jeans were tight, white corduroy, and straight legged. He really had to stuff his penis into them.
His pants pushed out at his crotch. He looked like he was probably well hung. Of course, I knew that he was well hung, but someone who didn't know would look at him, and wonder.
His friend Gerry is tall, and thin as a bean pole. He has shoulder length blonde hair, really long legs, wide hips, and a pointed chin.
He's pale, whereas Jimmy is dark skinned. However, they both have the same nose. Gerry's is beaked, like Jimmy's. They're best friends.
We went to the Cloisters. It's a museum in Manhattan, on the top of a hill. It's supposed to be a replica of a monastery from France, or maybe it's a real monastery that they took apart in France, and put back together in New York.
None of us were really interested in the museum. The nice part about it was that it had a few gardens, one of which was really big.
We went outside in the garden. It was an herb garden. There was a wall all the way around it. We got up on the wall, and smoked cigarettes.
I don't think that we were supposed to be smoking cigarettes there, but none of us really cared. All we wanted to do was sit there.
Jimmy sat next to me. He pressed his head against my shoulder and put his arms around me. I smoked a cigarette. He held me tightly.
He had his sweatshirt across his lap because he had an erection. He didn't think 'that I would notice, but I did. I didn't mind at all.
Gerry was walking around the garden. He didn't seem to be interested in talking to the two of us. He walked all around the garden, and he looked at all the plants.
They had a lot of herbs in the garden. He walked around and picked at all the herbs. He crushed bits of them between his fingers and brought them back to us.
"Smell this," he would say, holding out his fingers. Jimmy would smell, and I would smell. His fingers smelled really good.
"Mmmm," one of us would say, "what's that?" Then he would tell us what that particular herb was. He brought back samples of all kinds of herbs.
Tarragon. Rosemary. Mint. Spearmint. (I couldn't tell the difference between the mint and the spearmint, but Jimmy said he could.)
Jimmy and I sat on the wall a long time, and then Jimmy jumped off the wall, and he went over to talk to Gerry. They crouched together by some plants.
Jimmy got all the way down on the balls of his feet. He looked like a dwarf. Gerry crouched down next to him, and draped an arm around his shoulders.
He patted Jimmy on the back and whispered in his ear. He moved his hand up and down the length of his spine, caressing his back.
Jimmy was very quiet. He didn't say anything. He crouched next to Gerry, listening intently. They crouched there for about a minute.
Then they got up. They laughed. Suddenly, they embraced. Jimmy threw his arms around Gerry, and hugged him. They were tilted, as if standing on a fault line.
Frozen in motion for a fraction of a second, at an angle, they embraced. The Jimmy let him go, and came to me. He stood in front of me.
I parted my legs, and he pressed against the wall, which ended at his chest. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and hugged me, pushing up against the wall.
I put my cigarette out, and flicked it over the other side of the wall. Gerry said, "We better catch up with all the others."
I jumped off the wall. Jimmy put his arm around me. I wondered what was going on between him and Gerry. They have conferences like that a lot.
Jimmy whispered in my ear. "Are you doing anything tonight?" he said to me. He had his arm around my waist. He spoke very softly.
"I'm not doing anything at all," I said. "You know that."
"Can you think up some excuse to tell your parents why you won't be home tonight?" he asked. There was something funny in his tone, which I found disconcerting.
"Why would I want to tell my parents that I'm not going to be home tonight?" I asked him. It was the first time that he suggested anything like that.
"Because," he said, "Gerry's parents are going to be away. He invited us to come over to his house and spend the night, if we want to."
"Oh," I said. "Will we be able to sleep in a bed, together?" I had never done it with Jimmy in a bed. I had never slept with him.
"That's the point," he said, sounding as if he thought that I was a little bit thick. "He said we can sleep in his parents' bed if we want to."
"Oh, wow," I said, suddenly wondering who all was to be included in this "we"
"Maybe I can get my girlfriend Janet to say that she'll put up a front for me."
Later on the bus back to school I asked Janet if she would say that I had spent the night at her house. She wanted to know why.
"Well," I said, "I don't know that I can really tell you."
"You're going off somewhere with Jimmy, aren't you?" she said. She was sitting at the back of the bus, alone. Her boyfriend dropped her about a month ago.
"Oh," I said, giggling. She giggled too. We both giggled. "I don't want anyone to know about this," I said, "not anyone at all."
"I won't tell a soul," she said, "you can be sure of that." She gave me a look like if I couldn't tell my girlfriend, who could I tell.
I said, "Well, you have to swear that you won't tell a soul, but if you want to know, Gerry said that we could spend the night at his house, because his parents are away."
"Oh, wow," she said. "That's outrageous. That really is." She turned all red faced and excited. "So are you going to do that?"
"Well," I said, "I have to think of a way to do it. I have to have something to tell my parents, so they let me spend the night away from home."
"So you want to tell them that you're spending the night at my house? Is that it?" She leaned towards me, and whispered, raspingly.
"Well," I said, "I was thinking of that. Although what difference would it make, really, because if they called your mother, she would know that I hadn't been there."
"My mother will lie," my girlfriend said. "I know she will. Don't worry about that at all." She winked at me, as if the matter were taken care of.
"She will?" I said, hardly believing my girlfriend. "What makes you think that your mother would he? I've never known a mother who lied about such things."
"Well, you see," she said, with a twinkle in her eyes, "my mother and father are away. So if your parents call, I'll just pretend to be my mother."
"Oh, wow," I said, "would you really do that? That would be great. That really would be great. I can hardly believe that you would do a thing like that."
"Sure," she said, "don't worry about it, at all. Just make sure that you tell me all about it afterwards. I really want to hear a blow by blow recounting."
She obscenely emphasized the words, "blow by blow." I blushed, because I was a little bit embarrassed. I went back to Jimmy's seat, and told him it was okay, if my parents said that I could spend the night with Janet.
"She said that she'd work out something for you?" he said to me. I told him what Janet was going to do. "Oh, wow," he said. "That's great."
There wasn't any problem at all with my parents, when I talked to them that afternoon. I called them from the school, and they said it was fine.
Jimmy and Gerry and I got into Jimmy's car, but I didn't get in the front. Gerry and Jimmy got in the front, and I had to sit in the back.
We drove to Gerry's house. Nobody was around. I was worried that the neighbors would see the unfamiliar car in the driveway, and say something about it.
Jimmy said that it would probably be a good idea for us to put the car in the garage. Gerry got out and opened up the garage door, and Jimmy drove the car into the garage.
As soon as we got in the house, the two of them were getting high. I was really upset about that. "You shouldn't be getting high, Jimmy," I said.
"Don't worry about it, baby," he said. "I can do it every now and again. As long as I don't do it as much as I used to, it really doesn't matter."
"It's really good weed," Gerry said. "Just think of this as a special occasion. It's from Hawaii. I told Jimmy, and he couldn't turn it down."
He had spread out the contents of a plastic bag of brown marijuana leaves over an open record album. He held the album sideways, with one of it's leaves higher than the other.
All the pot was at the top of the highest leaf. He sifted the seeds out of the pot, with his fore and middle fingers, letting the seeds roll into the binding of the record album.
After awhile, he had cleaned the pot. There weren't any seeds left in it. All the seeds had collected in the binding of the album.
He filled up a pipe from all the cleaned pot. He lit the pipe, and the two boys passed it back and forth between themselves.
They smoked for a long time. They offered me some, but I didn't want any. I was pretty annoyed with Jimmy, because he wasn't supposed to be getting high.
That was what had really messed him up in the first place. I was upset. "You really are going to get started on it all over again," I said.
He didn't say anything. He just grunted, and he ignored me. The two of them acted like I wasn't even there. I was annoyed, and unhappy.
Then Gerry disappeared. Jimmy and I were all alone together. "Come on," he said, "let's go to bed." His mouth was dry, and I could hear his tongue slapping against his inner cheeks.
"I don't want to go anywhere with you," I said. "Not when you're high like that. You know I don't want to do anything with you if you're high."
"It's alright," he said, "really. Don't worry. Let's just go. Come on, I want to go to the bedroom and have a little fun with my baby."
He walked towards me, penis first. He was excited because he was high. "You don't want me. It's just because you're high that you want me."
"Oh, baby," he said, "I really do want you. You know that I want you." He put his arms around me, and buried his face in my neck.
"I don't want anybody but you. I never have and I never will. You know that, don't you? Baby, I really want you." He moved his hands up and down my body, stroking and caressing me. His body was warm. He moved his hips up and down against me.
I was really horny, too. "Alright," I said, "let's go." He took my hand, and they two of us walked into the bedroom. "But I want you to wash, first."
"What's wrong with me?" he said.
"You smell like pot," I said, "and I want you to take a shower."
He smiled. "I'll take a shower," he said, "if you take a shower win me. Will you do that? Will you take a shower with me?"
It was a sexy idea. I said sure. We took off all our clothes. Our bodies were naked and white. His penis was erect. It stood up and a forty five degree angle to his stomach. My nipples were erect. They were red and heated.
He pulled me against himself, and embraced me. He kissed me. I played with his cock. I gripped his buttocks, and squeezed them. He moaned.
We went into the bathroom, and turned on the shower. I liked it hotter than he did, and so we compromised. We stepped into the shower, and shampooed each other's hair.
I emptied some shampoo out of a bottle onto my hand, and moved my hand to the top of Jimmy's head. I handed him the bottle. He poured shampoo right onto my head.
We faced each other. His back was to the shower head. We put our hands in each other's hair, and massaged one another's scalps. Water hit my face, splattering off of him.
My erect nipples brushed against his chest. His cock bobbed up and down between his legs. I shampooed his pubic hair, working it into a lather.
He shampooed my cunt. We were all lathered and soapy and warm, the water spilling down over us. Then Gerry stepped into the shower, behind me.
He had a penis much larger than Jimmy's. It was longer, and it was thicker, and the hair down around it was brown. Jimmy's hair down there is black.
He moved his hands up under my arms and grabbed my breasts, placing his palms flat down over my nipples. He slid his big, long cock between my legs.
I shrieked in alarm. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you," he said, and Jimmy said, "we share everything else, baby. We thought we could share you, too."
"I don't think that that's a very good idea," I said. "I don't want to do this. I don't want to do this at all. I wish you would go away, Gerry."
I talked like that. I was scared. I had never had anyone but Jimmy. I had never had two guys at once. I didn't know what they wanted from me.
I wanted Gerry to leave. My nipples burned. He twisted them around in the thumbs and forefingers of his hands. Jimmy played with my cunt lips.
I protested, but the two of them didn't listen. Gerry played with my breasts, and Jimmy played with my cunt lips. The water from the shower sprayed all over us.
Gerry gently pushed me down onto the floor of the bathtub. I got down on my hands and knees. Jimmy leaned forward, and slid his cock into my mouth.
I had never had his cock in my mouth before. It was warm, and it was also very wet from the water. I sucked on it, moving my tongue over the underside of it.
From behind, Gerry moved his hands over my lips, parted them, and eased his cock into me. I could feel him filling me up. He was large.
He was larger than Jimmy, and he stretched me out. I had never been stretched out the way that he stretched me out. I could feel my muscles being pulled.
I took him in slowly, inch by inch. There was a lot of him to take in. He kept on pushing into me. At the same time, Jimmy pushed into my mouth.
I puckered my lips, wrapping them around Jimmy's cock. He moved it in and out of my mouth, pulling it out between my lips, and then sliding it over them.
My tongue moved along the underside of his cock, and my lips moved over the top and the bottom of it. I flicked the tip of my tongue into the slit at the head of his cock.
Gerry held my hips, and he moved his cock in and out and in and out of me. He was quite large. In and out and in and out he moved.
The water beat down upon our heads, and over our backs, and along our legs. I crouched on the floor of the tub, taking Gerry in my cunt, and sucking on Jimmy.
The boys were excited. They shouted encouragements back and forth at one another. They both fucked me. Jimmy face fucked me, and Gerry fucked me normally.
I sucked very hard on Jimmy's cock. I sucked as hard as I could. Jimmy groaned with pleasure, and Gerry grunted. He grunted loudly.
The bathroom was very steamy from all of the hot water that was coming out of the shower. I could hardly see either of the two boys.
I could hear them, but I could not see them. They moved in and out and in and out of me, one from behind, and the other from in front.
I was full of both of them. Jimmy came first, in fast, hard spurts. I had never tasted his stuff, before. It tasted thick, and good.
Gerry came after that, more slowly, in long, hard spurts. He penetrated me very deeply, and shot his wad into me with a triumphant shout.
After that,' we dried each other off, and went to bed. All three of us. They took turns eating me out, and I gave each of them blow jobs, and then we fell asleep.
When I woke up in the morning, it was hard for me to tell whose body was whose. We were all intertwined, the three of us.
We were all hooked up, together. Jimmy and Gerry and me. I could hardly remember who had done what to whom the night before.
Now I'm worried. Since we all did all that together, and Jimmy and Gerry slept with me at the same time, I think Jimmy maybe is gay.
What do you think?
CONCLUSION
I told Kathy that she didn't have anything to worry about. Boys will be boys. Why wouldn't your best friend want to fuck your girlfriend, if she has big tits? Why would you want to construe that as gay? Huh? Listen, my buddy Harold has been putting it in my wife for years , and never once have the two of us had the slightest interest in one another. Not that he doesn't have one hell of a rod dangling down between his legs. Not that I haven't given it the odd stroke, in passing, when the two of us were joy riding my wife. After all, boys will be boys.
CASE HISTORY TWO
SUBJECT: Anne B. AGE: nineteen
INTERVIEW ONE
For a long time Anne has been suffering from an unhealthy attraction to her teachers, an inclination which has dogged her throughout high school, and into college, leading her from one bed of hot and illicit throbbing sex to another. She has an aching snatch. I was sorry she didn't have a thing for doctors, as well as for teachers. Boy could I put it to her so she wouldn't forget about it. I stroked myself lovingly throughout her recounting of her first student teacher relationship. I'm sure you will be doing just the same thing.
The first time I made it with one of my teachers was when I was a freshman in high school. That's late for most people I know.
His name was Mr. Smithers, and he was a History teacher. He was really cute. I decided from day one that I was going to get him between my legs.
I was hungry for sex, but my grades weren't too good. For a long time, I didn't make the connection, that I could kill two birds with one stone.
For a long time, it simply never occurred to me that I could offer my cunt in exchange for a passing grade. The first time I got the idea was with Smithers.
One day we all got back our exams, and there was a note at the bottom of mine. The note said, "I want to see you after class today. Please remain in your seat."
He signed his name at the bottom. I had gotten an M-on the exam. No kidding. I didn't think that it was possible to get lower than an F, but I guess I did.
After class was over, all the other students went away, and I stayed behind. I sat alone in the room, and I waited to see what it was that Mr. Smithers wanted.
He walked over to the desk. He stood beside me. He looked down. He said nothing. He is young, and cute, and he wears glasses. He did then. He still does.
I waited there a long time. I wanted to let him speak forst. Teachers like to speak first. I figured that he was preparing something to say.
"Miss Buttons," he said to me. "I'm afraid I don't really know what to do with you. It's not that you do poorly on these tests. It's that you don't even try."
I looked down at my exam. Don't even try! I had put a lot of time and effort into that exam. "I'm not certain what you mean," I said.
Mr. Smithers picked it up off the desk. He glanced over it. "For instance," he said, "in response to the question, 'What were the Punic Wars,' you responded, and I quote, 'The Punic Wars were a series of fights among dwarfs in ancient Greece, from the province of Puny. Since the residents of Puny were so small, some of them thought that they should not have to pay such heavy taxes to the Greeks, while others of them, aspiring to greater heights, insisted that the only way to gain in status was to pay the Greeks quite grandly. These rival factions warred for many years, in the province of Puny. Hence, the Punic Wars.' Now I ask you. Miss Buttons, what kind of answer is that?"
"It's better than the stuff that you get out of your old text books," I said. "It may not be true, but I think it's a whole lot more interesting to read."
"But," Mr. Smithers insisted, "the point of history is not that it be one way or the other, the point is that we strive to discover the facts about the past."
"Who cares about the past?" I said. "I's only a bunch of dead people, anyway. What do I have to do with a lot of dead people? How do they concern me?"
Mr. Smithers sat down on top of the desk beside me. He's very tall. I admired the way that the crotch of his grey flannel trousers bulged considerably as he leaned his weight across the desk. "Don't you understand that there are lessons to be learned from the past?"
"What lessons?" I said, "that a lot of people like to kill each other when they've got nothing else to do? I don't need to read history books to figure that out."
"Yes," he said, "but if you study history, you can learn from the mistakes that others have made, and try to create a more perfect world."
"What do I care about other people's mistakes? I've got enough of my own to worry about, and to learn from. Besides, I'm not really interested in the world."
Mr. Smithers sighed, heavily. "No, you're not, really, are you," he said. "I've just about reached that conclusion, myself."
He looked so cute in his shirt and tie, all worried and crinkled brown behind his big glasses. He has very blue eyes behind those glasses.
He contemplated, and then he said, "Well, what are you interested in, then, Miss Buttons? Just out of curiosity? I really would like to know."
I smiled, and without a moment's hesitation, I said, "I'm interested in how big your cock is, Mr. Smithers." I gazed straight into his eyes.
"Oh, ahem," he said.
"I'm interested in knowing if it's circumcised, or uncircumcised."
"Miss, uh, Buttons, I think-"
"And I'm interested in knowing what color hair you have down there."
"-that that will be enough for, urn, one day, Miss, uh-"
"And I'm interested in knowing whether you like to fuck in the missionary position, or if you like to do it doggie style, and in what your stuff tastes like, and in how heavy your balls are, and in whether you have hair along your inner thighs, and around your asshole."
"-Buttons. Miss Buttons."
"Call me Anne."
"I wish you wouldn't do that, Anne."
"But what is a zipper for," I asked, "if not to unzip it?"
"I really wish you wouldn't do that."
"And what do they put vents in jockey shorts for, if not to open them?"
"I really think that you just should not be doing that."
"And why did God give men cocks, if not for women to suck them?"
"Oh."
I slid my lips down the length of his thick, hardened cock. It was hot, and meaty, and it tasted good. It was circumcised, and bigger than I had imagined.
"Oh," he said. He wanted to leave, but he didn't want me to stop. "Oh." The door to the room was wide open. "Oh, oh," he said. "Uh, oh."
I saw the door. I jumped from my chair, ran to it, and pulled it shut. "Are there any classes in this room, this period?" I asked.
"Uh," he said, staring down at his hardened cock in amazement, "no, I don't, uh, think that there are. Any. Classes in here. No."
"Good," I piped, running back to him. I grabbed his cock, and caressed it. It got bigger. "Sit very still," I said. "This won't take a moment."
I pushed him down in the chair, and kneeled on the floor in front of him. "Open up a book and make it look like you're reading, in case someone looks in the window," I suggested.
He was too baffled and surprised to do anything but what I had said. He opened up my history text book, and I licked his balls. They were heavy, and hot.
His pubic hair was black and curly. He had lots of it. It exploded forth from his cock, and tickled my cheeks as I licked his balls.
I ran one finger up the underside of his cock, and fingered his glans. His glans was purple, and thick with his own juices.
"Sit up," I said, pulling at his trousers and his jockey shorts. I slid everything down around his knees, so that I could lick his inner thighs.
His inner thighs were hairy, covered with thick black tufted hair. I caressed them, and nibbled on them. I bit his balls.
His cock was red and hard and excited. I slid my lips down the length of it, and sucked it. I cupped his balls in one hand, and closed a fist around the base of his cock. I moved my hand up and down his cock, heavily.
I flicked my tongue into the slit at the head of his cock, as I pumped my encircled hand up and down on it. I licked his glans.
I smeared the underside of his cock with my saliva, and with his juices. His cock was sticky, all the way up and down the length of it.
It was sticky and slimy. I moved my lips down the length of it, concentrating on the underside of his cock. I sucked and pumped up and down on him.
He moved his hips up and down in the chair. He grunted. He held onto the sides of the desk. His face was pale and red with excitement.
I moved my mouth up and down his cock, following the motions of my lips with my encircled palm. I swirled my tongue around the underside of his cock.
I rubbed his balls, and pulled on them. I could feel them filling with semen, to be pumped up the long shaft of his cock, and into the glans.
He breathed very heavily, grunted, panted, and moaned. I sucked on him and pumped up and down on him. He moaned and sighed. I sucked and pumped.
He thrust his hips up and up and up, and tried to fuck my face. I puckered my lips to receive his thrusts. In and out of my mouth he forced his cock.
I took him. I could feel his muscles tightening. He stood, on his feet, his hips halfway up out of the chair. He yelled out.
I took his semen into my mouth, swallowing every last bit of it. I swallowed and swallowed and swallowed, gulping as he shot his stuff into me.
It tasted thick and salty and good. He squirted into me, and then collapsed back into his seat, sighing. "Oh," he said, "oh, my."
"Welcome to the Pubic Wars," I said. "They've only just begun."
He was really very sweet. We got to be good friends. We had an arrangement. If I didn't fail him, he wouldn't fail me. This went on for several months.
I most enjoyed the time he penetrated me. I rate that highest on my list of experiences with him. We had many enjoyable moments, but none as enjoyable as that first penetration.
I had an insatiable need to be taken in the classroom. It heightened my sense of pleasure, somehow. It made me feel that for once I was performing well in class.
He rather liked it, too, if you want to know what I think. He was a funny man with glasses, but when he took the glasses off he turned into an animal.
I know he enjoyed our sessions together. After class that first penetrating day, we had another conversation. He laid down the law, and then he laid me.
"No one must know about this," he said. "No one in the school. You must not tell your friends, or your parents, or anyone."
"Obviously I'm not going to tell my parents," I said. "Do you think that I'm out of my mind? They would be the last people I would tell."
"Good," he said. "Just see that you don't tell a soul. You know what could happen to the two of us if anyone found out about this."
"You mean," I said, "that I know what would happen to you. But don't worry. I don't have any intention of telling anyone at all. Don't you worry."
"Wett," he said, "you know that I do have to worry about such things. My job is on the line, here, and I can't afford to let anything get out."
"How about letting this get out?" I said to him, patting his crotch. I could tell that he really had a hard on. "What do you say?"
"Well, you know," he said, "historically, women have always been the downfall of all kinds of men. Do you want to add me to the list?"
"I should say that you've already been added," I responded, and he nodded. He glanced at his watch, and looked around the room.
"In that case," he said, "as long as I have already sinned, why don't we compound the transgression? Would you like to get up on the desk?"
I would have liked to get anywhere he wanted me to get, but I don't think he fully appreciated that, yet. The only thing to do was to convince him.
I walked over to the desk, and got up on it, spreading myself out. "How's this?" I said. I was wearing a skirt, and bobby sox, and saddle shoes.
I was wearing a loose t shirt, and I had a pretty pink bow in my hair. I smiled at him, and spread my legs invitingly. "Is this good enough?"
"Well, now," he said, "I think that we might be able to get somewhere with that, you know. The only thing is, I haven't brought any contraception."
"Contraception!" I laughed. "Are you kidding? I've been on the pill since the earth cooled. I'm always prepared, in case I meet a sexy guy."
He smiled, and said, in a low, sexy voice, "Well, now, you see-there are some things that you can learn from history. You wouldn't have the slightest inclination to be on the pill if you didn't know from the past that women who aren't careful get pregnant."
"You don't have to be an historian to figure that out," I said. "All you have to have is a little bit of common sense. That's all." He slowly approached the desk as I spoke, moving with difficulty because of the pole sticking up in the crotch of his trousers..
I reached out with my hand, and took ahold of what I could. I got my fist around the bit of him that was sticking straight out of his trousers, at me.
"That's one hell of a weapon you're wielding," I said. "Is this a jousting match, or what? Am I the damsel in distress? The tortured maiden?"
"If you had read your history," he said, mounting the desk in preparation of mounting me, "you would know that knights in shining armor hardly ever stuck their spears into damsels in distress. That was hardly the point of the thing."
I pulled my dress up around my hips, and slid my pink frilly and slightly damp panties down to my knees. "How did they make little knights and little damsels if they never put the pole in the hole?" I wanted to know.
"Dear," he said, "while you were speaking metaphorically, I was speaking literally. I see now that the subtleties of word play are beyond your modest verbal capabilities."
"If you want to fuck with Webster's Dictionary," I said, moving my hands around between my legs to spread my juices well over every bit of my cunt, "I suggest you go downstairs to the library, and see what you can get going there."
He chuckled, undoing his trousers, and sliding them with his jockey shorts down off his legs. His big cock popped up between his legs.
His cock moved up and down and up and down, and the hair around it was all spiky and black. I leaned forward and took it in my fingers.
"I love your cock," I said, "and, that's an historical fact." I slid my lips down over the tip of it, and sucked on it gently. He moaned, softly.
He let one hand stray over my cunt lips, and up and down my inner thighs. He stroked the soft, smooth flesh of my inner thighs, and pulled at my cunt hair.
He moved his fingers over my cunt lips, outer and inner, and played in the juices. He slid one finger up my hole, and moved it around in there.
"Oh," I said, "did they do things like that in the Middle Ages?"
"I should hardly think so," he said. "In the Middles Ages, it took them most of the time they had just to get their clothes off."
I giggled. "God, I'm glad that we can just get right down to business." I lay back on the table, and beckoned him to enter me. I was terribly excited.
He leaned down to lap at my cunt, casually. He licked my outer lips, and slid his lips down over the head of my clit. I moaned, and my hips gyrated.
My hips moved up and down on top of the desk. He pulled his mouth away, and entered me. His cock was very large. I'd never had a cock like that inside of me before.
"Can you get all of it in?" I said, a little worried. It really was very large and very thick, and, though well lubricated with my juices and with his, a great deal for anyone to expect to be able to take all the way inside of herself.
"I shouldn't think that there will be any problem," he said. "You just spread your legs as wide as you can, and let my plow on in there."
I did as he directed. My legs were spread very wide. I put a hand down, to help him guide it inside. Slowly his slid it over my lips, and into my vagina.
I could feel every inch of it as he slid it inside of me. It was thick. It pressed at my insides, parting all my tissue, and all my flesh and membranes.
Farther and farther in it slid, until I had him all the way inside of me. It was like having a hand inside a glove. A very tight glove. A very big hand.
It was a tight fit, a squeeze, but it felt all the better for that. I shivered, excited from head to toe. Suddenly I felt completed. Having him inside of me was heaven.
Having him inside of me was more than I could have wanted. He was thick and heavy, and hard. He stretched me wider than I could have been stretched any other way.
I have had things inside myself before, more than just my fingers. I have had cucumbers inside of me, squash, mostly vegetables, because I like things to be organic.
But I haven't ever had anything like that inside of me. Not until that very day, at least.
I was just a little bit out of breath. Just a little bit overawed.
He held my buttocks, and he rocked me. He moved slowly and carefully in and out of me, and held onto me, moving me with him. His hips swung forward, and then back, and forward, and back again, over and over. I held on fast to the edges of the desk.
I gripped the edges of the desk, and panted. He moved his hips forward, and drew them back, slowly and carefully. Little by little his pace increased.
His movements grew more hurried and less methodical. His breathing became somewhat irregular. My knuckles turned white as I held onto the sides of the desk.
My hips moved back and forth as he moved into and out of me, over and over. We moved together like a piston, plunging and withdrawing, like an oil rigging, diving in and out of the dark, oil rich earth. I was secreting black oils, rich and luscious, as he plunged in and out of me, his strokes heavy and determined.
We moved together on the table top, panting and shouting. Then he landed three quick blows inside of me, and then followed them with one long penetrating thrust.
It was over. His stuff seeped into me. I bucked up and down on the desk top, reaching my own hard and excited climax. He fell down on top of me, and embraced me. I stroked his hair as he lay his sweating and panting head between my luscious breasts.
INTERVIEW TWO
When Anne's relationship with Mr. Smithers ended, her relationship with teachers of any kind did not. She seemed to crave the association with authority. She seemed to need the maturity of an older person. She wanted constant apocalyptic sex. She had a hot and dripping itchy warm excited cunt. I can smell it still.
At first I thought perhaps I just had a thing for teachers when they were males, but that all changed with Miss Snub. Smithers was only the first. He was not necessarily the best.
Miss Snub taught Physical Education. She educated me. I was on the soccer team. We had a very good soccer team at my high school.
I wasn't playing very well. One day after practice, Miss Snub took me aside, as I was on my way back into the locker room. "I want to have a word with you," she said.
I dreaded that. Miss Snub knows how to have words. Girls grow up dreading the sound of her words. I was afraid she was going to kick me off the team.
I made it to the locker room, and showered slowly. I hardly talked to any of the other girls. I hardly had anything to say to them.
Eventually I was the only one left in the locker room. That was when Miss Snub approached me. "Beattie," she said to me, calling me by my last name, "I'll tell you. You don't play too well. I could cut you from the team tomorrow."
I knew that. "I know that, Miss Snub," I said, throwing myself on her mercy. "I hope that you will be able to take pity on such a person as myself."
"I could take pity on you," she said. "Or we could make some other kind of arrangement." She walked around me as she said it, sizing me up.
I stood quite still, aware that what happened in the next few seconds was going to determine my fate. I wasn't just wild about playing soccer, but one of the girls on the team supplied me with some really fine grass, and it was only through our association on the team that she would give it to me for free, which she always did. I wanted to be on that team.
Miss Snub circled all the way around me. When she reached my face, she looked deeply into my eyes, and said, "If you have sex with me on a regular basis, and do everything that I ask you to do, then you can be on the team as long as you like."
Something happened in my stomach. I was shocked, surprised-and very pleased. Sex with Miss Snub! What an interesting idea.
I looked her up and down, feeling that it was now my turn to give her the once over. She was a satisfactory sample of female anatomy, a hard, jock-y woman.
She was not quite as tall as I, and she had a broader, lower center of gravity. She was hard muscled, and masculine. Her hair was cut short.
While she wasn't what I would call butch, she certainly wasn't a floosie. She was a substantial woman, with hard muscles, and an ample, hardy frame.
She carried herself well. She had broad shoulders and a very erect carriage, and she had very large, ripe looking breasts.
No one with breasts like that could really be easily accused of being butch, and she was oprtainlv not the type to succumb to the stereotypes of that counter-culture group.
However, the appealing thing about her was that she was both masculine and feminine at the same time. She had a hard, mascluline look, as well as a certain femininity.
I think it was the way she smelled that really excited me. She sweated like a man, but the smell that came off of her was something else entirely.
She didn't smell soft and wispy like a woman, but then she didn't smell hard and rank like a man. She smelled sweet, and sweaty.
Sizing her up, I decided that I could probably make it with her without a lot of trouble. Something inside of me responded to her, quite readily.
And I wanted to be on that team. Making it with her hardly seemed like an unfair price to pay. I used that team for all kinds of excuses. All the faculty members were proud of that team, and they would offer special academic dispensation to any girl playing on it, even if that girl were as bad a player as I.
The team was also the excuse I used when my parents wanted to know why my. grades weren't better, and my father, being the jock that he is and never having had the football playing son he really wanted, or any son at all for that matter, was willing to believe that the game was more important than anything else.
Finally, of course, I could stay after school, late, on days when we didn't even have practice, blowing dope and making out and things like that, and getting it on with Mr. Smithers-the two affairs overlapped-and use practice as an excuse. My parents never knew when I had practice, and when I did not, and so I was in the clear.
The team was important to me, and Miss Snub was one hot number. What the hell, I thought, I'll hang upside down from a shower rod and whistle "Maytime," if it gets me what I want.
"It sounds fine to me," I said. "When and where did you want this to happen?" I looked her straight in the eye. I think that she appreciated that.
"How about here and now," she said, telling me rather than asking me. I said that it was fine with me. She told me to get undressed.
I had been naked in front of her a lot of times before, and it wasn't anything new to me to be naked in front of her right now.
However, I had never seen her completely naked, and that was a bit of a novelty. I turned around from my locker and saw her. I breathed in, sharply.
"Oh," I said, looking at her. She really had a body. Starting with her breasts, and ending with her arches, there was not an inch of her which was unfit, or undesireable.
Her breasts were full, and drooping, and ample. They looked like breasts manufactured for motherhood, and would probably never reach their prime until the day that they were filled with milk, and placed at the mouth of a suckling baby.
They sagged down to her navel, not with age, but rather, with fullness, and at the tip of each of her snow white breasts was a big, brown nipple.
Her nipples were pointed, and now slowly beginning to erect, they pointed down towards her vagina, which was full and juicy, and covered with hair.
She had hair all over her vagina. Clearly, she never trimmed it. The hair exploded out between her legs as it does from out between a man's legs.
Her pubic hair was shaggy and dark brown, and thick. She had a forest down there. I could hardly see her cunt lips underneath all that hair.
However, what I could see of her lips was swollen, and thick, and damp. I watched a bit of her liquid slide down her inner thighs.
She had sturdy legs, muscular and heavy, and high arches, and long pointed toes. She had thick biceps, and big, long fingered hands.
Looking at her, my comparatively tiny breasts ached with excitement, and my modest little cunt tingled. My nipples were erect.
She moved towards me, and pressed her sweaty body against mine. Her hips moved forwards, and she pushed her cunt against my cunt, and moved her hips in circles.
She put her mouth to each of my nipples, in turn, and moved her tongue over and over them, in circles, until they were hot and excited beyond belief.
I shivered. I was damp between my legs, and aching in a way that I did not know I could ache. My clit was becoming engorged, and excited.
She found my clit with her fingers. Her hands moved down my body, and one began to explore between my outer lips. Her probing fingers moved to my clit like iron filings to a lodestone. She fingered my clit, and I shivered.
"You like that, baby?" she said, smiling. She worked my clit between her fingers, and then her body slid down the length of mine, until her head was at my cunt.
She wrapped her arms around my knees, and clung to me, as she buried her face between my legs, and went to work on my clit.
Her face was cool against my warm inner thighs. I was hot, and I was trembling. I had played with myself, and I had had Smithers' head between my legs, but it was never like this.
She went straight to the heart of the matter. She didn't bother with preliminaries. She moved her lips over the head of my clit, and down its length.
Her lips were rubbery and they were smooth, and they were slippery and slimy. She moved them from the head of my clit all the way down to its base.
A shock of electric pleasure ran all the way up and down my spine, as she moved her mouth up and down the length of my clit.
My clit was hot and engorged, and she moved her lips over and over it, sucking it gently, and lubricating it with her sticky and cloying saliva.
She moved her hands up and down the backs of my legs, caressing them, tickling the insides of my knees, stroking the backs of my thighs, sliding her palms between my buttocks.
Her lips mouthed my clit. She moved her lips all the way up to its head, and flicked at it with her tongue. She tortured the head of my clit with her tongue.
I shivered, and closed my eyes. I could hardly believe what was happening to me. My body was blue with pleasure. I was a little frightened.
She got up. "You're rather easily aroused, aren't you," she said, smiiing. I leaned my head between her breasts, and felt the security of her breasts on either side of my face.
"Come on over here," she said, "and he down on this bench. I'm afraid that you'll fall over and hurt yourself, if we continue in that fashion."
She led me to one of the benches in the locker room, hard wooden things, made of oak slats. She laid a towel over a length of one of the benches.
"Lie down on that," she said. "Don't worry about anything at all. I don't want to hurt you. Don't worry about it, at all."
I was a little worried. She was right to warn me that no harm was going to come to me. I was more fully aroused than I had ever been.
I thought about the times that I had had with Smithers. That was something completely different. That was something I enjoyed, but it was hardly like this.
This was something else again. I really didn't know what to make of it. She was attractive, but she was just Miss Snub.
I had never thought of Miss Snub in any kind of sexual way. She was just a gym teacher, and a gym teacher is a gym teacher.
I had never even thought of an attractive woman in a carnal way. The thought never occurred to me. I went on about my business, making it with guys.
I liked guys. I responded to guys. Guys were important to me. But no guy had ever made me feel the way that Miss Snub had made me feel.
In the course of five minutes, she turned me on to things about myself that I had not known if eighteen years of making it with guys.
I wanted more. I was mad to have more. She knew it. She had me where she wanted me. I wonder now how many other girls there were whom she converted.
I lay stretched out on the bench, my legs spread wide. Miss Snub sat down on the bench, between my legs, and held onto my inner thighs.
She pressed her hands against my soft white inner thighs, leaving wide red marks where her fingers pressed against the flesh.
When she leaned forward, her hefty breasts drooped, and the nipples brushed against my legs. That tickled. I closed my eyes.
I tried to concentrate wholly on what was going on between my legs. All that I wanted to know was the feeling of her tongue or her fingers or whatever it was that she was going to use when she finally started to go to work on me.
I was all warm between my legs, damp, and excited. Her body was warm, as well. The two of us were warm together, and excited.
Neither of us said a word. The locker room was vaguely steamy, from the showers, and there was the smell of sweat that pervaded the air.
My arms dangled down to the floor, and lay in the wetness of the hard, cold tiles. I could feel the slats of the bench digging into my back.
Then her finger slid up into my vagina. I let out a little gasp of shock. She moved her finger into me, sliding it up as far as it would go.
My muscles contracted. I had not expected this. My body was giving me a signal: invaders down below, alien on the prowl. My thighs tensed.
I told my body to be cool. I let everything relax. I wanted what she was going to do to me. I don't know why I trusted her, but I did.
What could she have done to me, anyway? Not much, as far as I could tell, other than what she was doing. And I liked what she was doing.
My cunt, tight and on guard, rippled with tiny twinges of harsh excitement. She moved her finger further into me, and I could feel it against the contours of my inner cunt.
I felt a spasm of excitment form at the base of my spine, right there in the reservoir of my lower back. I arched up my hips, and she slid another finger into me.
Her two fingers felt almost like the thickness of a man's cock, and they were long, though not nearly as long as Smithers'. I adjusted my expectations, accordingly.
However, if her fingers were not quite as thick and long as Smithers' cock, they were something else quite wonderful that Smithers' cock could never be.
They were agile. They had joints in them, knuckles. She could move them around any way that she chose, and I would reap all the benefits.
And she chose to move them around. She chose to move them around inside of me in such a fashion that I was nearly out of my mind with breath holding excitement.
She worked the inside of my cunt. She slid her fingers into me, and she massaged and kneaded the inside of my cunt, as I would massage and knead Smithers' cock.
She moved her fingers in and out of me, and she pressed them around and around inside of me, stabbing at the walls of my vagina, plunging, circling, stroking, twirling.
She moved those fingers around inside of me as if she were mixing up a cookie batter, and beating it to a pleasant, smooth consistency, before dropping it into the oven.
My muscles rippled in incredible spasms. They didn't know what had come over them. They had never experienced anything like this before.
At first my cunt was surprised. But then it warmed to Miss Snub, when it was clear that her interest in me was purely sympathetic.
Slowly, my cunt began to react, favorably, to her thrusts, and to work with her, as she worked her finger in and out of my cunt.
My hips bobbed up and down on the bench. I clenched my fists, and bit my lower lip. I made quite a display of myself.
My nipples were burning, erect, and excited. I ached for them to be fondled and abused. I moved one of my fists up to my breasts, and played frantically with my nipples.
I took one nipple between the thumb and forefinger of my hand, and I twisted it around and around, until it felt as if I had twisted it off, like a bottle cap.
Then I abandoned that nipple, and moved on to the other, twising it in the same fashion, tweaking and turning and stroking it. I panted.
Miss Snub got her mouth in on the action, down there. She moved her lips to my inner lips, and licked and sucked on them, as she moved her fingers around inside of me.
She worked over my clit, lightly, and licked my outer lips, and my inner thighs. She sucked on me, lapping up my juices, as her fingers went in and out of me like a piston.
My hips bounced up and down and up and down on the bench. I could hardly control myself. I was grunting, and I was drooling.
I could feel something very deep inside of me that had been stimulated beyond the call of duty, and that something was building towards crescendoes of orgasmic activity.
I was building, building, building towards one incredibly intense orgasm. The feelings in my clit seemed like child's play compared to what was going on deep inside of me.
Muscles I didn't realize I had were expanding, and contracting, and expanding, and contracting, until they all tied themselves up in knots.
Everything got all tied up together, and my inner cunt was one big contraction, the muscles having expanded as much as they could, and then taken all that new territory and contracted it together, into one exquisite knot.
I was out of my mind with cramps and knots and tingling pleasure. I didn't think that I was going to live. I thought that I was going to have a heart attack.
Then it started to happen. It started to release. Slowly. The knots untied themselves one by one, and as each knot came free, I felt another stab of joyous release.
One after the other the knots inside of me came loose, until finally they all unravelled, and there was nothing left tied up inside of me.
It was then that I realized it was over. It seemed as if it had been an eternity, but of course it had only been a few minutes.
I was exhausted. I let my arms dangle down at my sides. I could still feel my insides tingling. I was all warm and relaxed.
I felt the way that I sometimes feel in the autumn, after I have been outside running, and stretching out my muscles, and then later curl up inside in front of a fireplace with a mug of hot cider, and I can still smell the autumn leaves in my hair, and my muscles are all tingling with pleasure. I felt warm, and protected.
"Oh," I said. Miss Snub said, "You are easily aroused." She got up off the bench, and she said, "Now you get into the shower." Once a gym teacher, always a gym teacher.
CONCLUSION
I told Anne that she didn't have any problem. What the hell was she coming to see me for? She enjoyed it, so why worry about the consequences?
Her story reminded me of the time that I made it with my gym teacher. This was in the summer of 42, I believe, and I was living out on the beach, with my parents.
I was in a camp for part of the summer. I was, oh, eighteen. I used to go out on the beach every day and play games with all the other boys.
The gym teacher supervised. Ah, that body. Those supple curves, those tits, that white area between bathing trunks and thighs, the tan line. I got one hell of a blow job from that gym teacher. Sure wish I could remember his name.
CASE HISTORY THREE
SUBJECT: Mary M. AGE: eighteen
INTERVIEW ONE
Was Mary trying to make me? If she had come around to my side of the desk, she would have seen that she really didn't have to work so hard. I was pointing like a hunting dog, on the scent of beaver. Join me in the thrill of the chase, as Mary recounts her tale.
It happened with the neighbor. He was new in town, and his wife was always away. I was always around. The two of us hit it off really well.
His name was Marsters. Daniel Marsters, to be exact, but I always called him Marsters. I liked to call him that, and he liked to be called that.
Marsters and his wife moved into this upper middle class suburb of Los Angeles, deep in the heart of the San Fernando Valley. They were a happy couple.
To all appearances, they had everything that they could want-a dog, a car, a couple of jobs, a Jacuzzi, weekends golfing, weeknight parties.
They had no children, but then they didn't need any. Not with me around. I was the surrogate. I was children enough for the both of them and then some.
I didn't need no rattle, either, nor any two am. feeding. I wasn't the kind of child that you had to pick up and burp, unless you have it in mind to press some weight.
I weigh a good one twenty, standing naked on the bathroom scales, and even with my ample breasts and my luscious figure, with all the curves like a racing yacht, I'm lithe and agile as a linx, fast as an ostrich, sly as a fox.
Marsters took to me like bacon fat takes to the sides of your hips, when you down a whole lot of it year after year. I was tops with him, and he was tops with me.
On top of me, behind me, under me, over me, around me. He was everything and everywhere with me, and we both had a high time of it, while it lasted.
When his wife found out, we had an even higher time of it, just the three of us. They say they have a lot of happy couple in the Valley. They never mention threesomes. They oughtta.
I met him on an afternoon when the hen was out and the rooster was in. Later he was out as well--in and out. And in and out. And out and in.
"Hi there," I called to him, standing in front of my father's lawn mower, regarding it, as I regard all such machinery, as an alien from the planet Claire regards all earthly conceits. "I can't seem to get this thing started."
The lawn mower was about the only thing I couldn't get started. I sure could get something started with Marsters. He had a basket on him like nothing Chamberlain could dunk.
He strolled across the driveway which separates out two houses. "Hi there," he said. "It looks as if you're having a little difficulty with that thing."
"With this thing," I said, "lots of difficulty. Your thing, I would imagine, is another matter entirely. I bet I could get your motor running, pronto."
I put one hand around his crotch, and gave him a good hard squeeze. It was light, pleasant work. No less pleasant for him, I might add. Things were looking up.
"Is that a banana in your pocket, or are you glad to see me?" I wanted to know, using the old Mae West line on him. "Because if it is a banana-well, I have my vegetarian days, as well as my carnivorous ones. Not that I don't like to mix my meats and vegetables." I moved one hand over his chunky pectoral muscles.
"I'm afraid you must have the wrong idea about me," he said. "I'm a happily married man."
"I won't hold it against you."
"Would you care to restate that?" he said, gesturing with his head to indicate that in fact I was holding something against him-his cock. I had it in my hand, having slid my eager fingers down the waist of his trousers. I held his cock up against his stomach, and stroked it lightly with my fingers.
"Are we making a public spectacle of ourselves?" I wanted to know. "Wouldn't it be so much better if we made a private spectacle? Got a place we can go?"
"Well," he said, "my wife is away on business. I suppose it wouldn't hurt."
"So I'm the business you're on while your wife is away on business," I said, smiling. I led him by his hardened cock towards his house, determined to take my pleasure.
His house wasn't much. I had seen plenty others like it before. I had a house like it, myself, or rather, my parents had, and I was their temporarily permanent boarder.
That didn't mean, of course, that I couldn't shack up here and there when other accommodations pleased me better. And I found Marsters very accommodating.
"You want anything to drink?" he said to me, going to the bar and mixing himself a gimlet. He filled a glass half full with gin, and half with lime juice.
"That's rare," I said, "a gimlet. You usuually don't see people drinking them in this part of the country. What makes you a gimlet man?"
"Come from back east," he said. "Always have stuck to my eastern ways, I guess. Not that I don't let a little of the California life style rub off on me, now and then."
"Do you mean rub off, or do you mean, rub up against?" I said, figuring that I was the little bit of California lifestyle now rubbing off on or up against him, however you want to put it. He felt good. Strong, and hard, and lean.
"I like your pole," I said. "I've got a nice round hole for you to put it in. You want to try a shot, or do you need a little lubrication to slide it in?"
He downed his lubrication and set the glass aside. "I could slide right on into you if I was as dry as a blighted potato field, or as high as a kite on the fourth of July."
"Oh," I said, "he has a turn of phrase to shake a stick at. But I didn't come to make it with your mouth. Or at least, not with the words coming out of it."
He caught me in his arms, then, and put something in my mouth that was a whole lot better than a gimlet. I shivered. He had a piercing tongue, like a snakes.
"Oh," I said, "it's even better when you help." His arms closed around my waist, and he drew me tightly into himself. He held me very hard.
He moved his hips around in circles against mine, holding on tightly to my buttocks, and pressing our groins together. Whether he was striking for a fire, I don't know.
There sure were some things burning south of the border. I could feel the flames rising all the way up to my mountainous breasts. Their snow capped peaks were thawing.
"You learn that back east, too?" I asked. "Maybe I'll make a trip out there one of these days." I wrapped my arms around him, and held onto him.
He buried his face between my breasts. His cheeks were warm, and they were soft against the smooth skin of my big, ample breasts.
My nipples ached and burned with desire and with passion. I moved my hands down his sides and took ahold of his member, which flopped out of his trousers.
"It's nice out, isn't it," he said. I shrugged, not understanding what the weather had to do with anything. He smiled at me, and looked down at his cock. "Well, then," he completed his thought, "I think I'll leave it out."
I laughed at that. You have to laugh at a guy who has a sense of humor. That's really the best way to make it, make it with a guy who can get your funny bone tingling.
I've had sourpusses, and I've had men who were so dry and so humorless you could have poured hot water over them and gotten powdered milk.
This guy was no W.C. Fields, but he was a sketch. It made me even hotter just listening to a wisecrack like that. I didn't think that I could wait much longer to get him between my legs. You can only make some things wait so long.
"Baby," I said, "why don't you take me on into the room where this sort of thing is done properly. I think we might find a bed more conducive to love."
"I could do it with you on the tip of Mt. Everest," he said. He buried his face once again between my breasts, and flicked out his tongue at my nipples.
"Well now there is a sure fire method of birth control," I countered. "You couldn't get me to open my purse for a man in weather like that, much less my legs."
"You'd want to," he said, "because it would keep you warm. That would be the only way for you to keep warm, up on the tip of that place."
"I'd keep warm," I said, "by sticking around with a man right here in the Valley, in the first place. Why go far for sex when you can get it near?"
I tugged on his cock as I said that, and once again I was leading him, heading towards what I took to be the entrance to the bedroom. He offered no resistance.
I can't say that I blame him. I was giving off such a powerful odor at that time that I think it would have taken a man with a very strong will to resist me.
I don't know any way to describe, really, what it smells like when I really get excited, but I've had it from some cosmetician friends of mine that I would be a very rich girl if I could bottle it and sell it. Some day maybe I will.
In the meantime, I make do with compliments, and there's never a dearth of those around when I happen to be naked and excited within several feet of any normal man.
Marsters was acting up a little bit. He was behaving like a bit of a mule. I think maybe it was the gimlet that went to his head, plus me.
"You just keep your cool, buster," I said to him, "and we'll be riding high, soon enough. But in the meantime, why don't you see if you can relax?"
"How can a man relax when you've got him by the balls-literally?" he said, chagrined. I looked down at my palm and concluded that he was not exaggerating.
I did, in fact, have him by the balls, and he wasn't any worse the wear for it. He had heavy, meaty, low hanging balls, which were planted in the middle of a forest of spiky black hair.
"You gonna bowl with these, later on?" I said to him. "Or do you use them as ballast?" They were the biggest balls that I had ever seen.
I was suitably impressed, and he was pleased that I was. Psychologists and feminists jargon to the contrary notwithstanding, there is nothing that pleases a man more than being told that he had a big tool, preferably the biggest his present fling has ever seen.
The way to a man's heart is through the extension of his erection, and don't you ever forget it. If you want him, tell him it's huge.
Believe me, any man will believe that. I once told a boy so tiny that he couldn't have made it with a flea circus that he had the, biggest tool since Odysseus.
It was an out and out lie, and he knew-it, but boy did he perform for me afterwards. It's not the size, it's the style, I always say, and nothing cramps a guy's style more than making him feel like a shrimp.
However, in the case of Marsters, there was a great deal there to talk about, and when I told him that he was built like the Capitol Records tower, I was telling no tall tale.
The guy was hung. Like a David in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, he was hung. He had a schwartz so big he could have used it as a yo yo.
I was aching for that guy. I wanted him more than anyone I have ever wanted, and believe me, I have wanted a few. With this one, however, I could tell that having was going to be even more fun than wanting, when in so many cases it's just the other way around.
I wanted him, and I was going to have him, and the knowledge of that really just completely excited me. I very nearly made a fool of myself as I led him into the bedroom.
I am very careful not to make a fool of myself. I let myself go with Marsters. I let go of all my inhibitions. Both of them. It wasn't a big sending off party.
He undressed me. He did it as a jeweler examines a precious stone. I could tell that he loved women, and that he had made it his business to know how to arouse them.
He undid my shirt, button by button, breathing softly, his cock flapping up and down between his legs like a seesaw. I wanted to get on the flapping end of it and have a ride.
He undid my shirt, and there my breasts hung, free and open and ready for him to take them in whatever fashion he chose. He chose not to take them at all, right away.
He was going to make me wait. I know that school of seduction all too well. I have used it myself more times than I can count. However, it has never been used successfully on me.
Never, that is, until this one time. I was so hot and so excited and so ready for him that I could hardly breathe. I was blue with excitement.
He looked at my breasts, but he didn't touch them, as if they were delicate glassware in some china shop, and he a child warned not to handle anything.
"You break, you buy," he might have been told, except that he had already bought, and I was his to use however he saw fit. I guess he saw fit not to use me at all.
Not right away, anyway. Right away he was interested in getting me out of my pants, and he undid the snap and unzipped them. My cunt came bursting out at the seams of my trousers.
Of course I wasn't wearing any panties. Where I come from, Be Prepared doesn't mean have your diaphragm handy. It means keep your lips out front.
My lips were out front. I could hear him moan softly as he lightly and gently ran a finger over my outer lips, admiring them.
His cock now was stiffer than an Alaskan pipeline, and about twice as thick with fluids. He was ready to smear his joy juice from here to Minnesota, but the man had patience.
If I could wait, I guess he supposed that he could wait. He pulled my trousers down to my knees, and then he had me step out of them.
I stood naked in front of him. I guess that he had seen a naked women before, but apparently there are some men who just never get used to the sight.
At least, his cock had all the reflexes of a eighteen year old boy the first time that he catches a glimpse of his mother in the shower.
His balls were pulled tightly up between his legs, and the shaft of his cock was bouncing up and down and up and down, like a rubber ball.
I was about to suggest a game of jacks, when he moved away from me, and undressed. He took off his shirt, and he took off his shoes, and he took of his trousers.
He slid the damp remains of his bikini briefs down his legs, and then he stood as naked as I, the two of us like Adam and Eve in the garden.
Well, there was no garden to speak of, and neither one of us was much interested in fig leaves, but say the words, Original Sin, and you hit the jackpot.
He moved to me, and gathered me up in his arms. A real old style gentleman, apparently. He held me, and then he walked with me, over to the bed.
He stretched me out on the bed, and then, as if he had nothing better to do, he got onto the bed with me, and started to caress my body.
He moved his hands through my long, shiny blonde hair, strand by strand, as if his ten fingers were one overblown comb. He made soft noises in the back of his throat.
The soft noises got loud , and I realized that a good portion of them were coming from me. I was as excited as he was, and my cunt was quivering with excitement.
I wanted him to get on with it. He wanted to take his time. Some men are like that. You just can't rush them, no matter what you do.
I couldn't rush this one. He moved his hands over my face, and over my cheeks, arid across my forehead, and then down the length of my long swan's neck.
I felt as if I were being appraised for an insurance policy. I felt a lot of things, but most of them were happening right between my legs.
I don't know that I have ever been as hot and excited as I was at that moment. I don't know that I could ever quite stand to be that hot and excited again.
All I know was that within minutes I was yelling for it. Yes, I was yelling for it. It could happen to you. Some day when you least expect it, you too may be yelling for it, and you may find that you are too hot to be embarrassed about it.
I was too hot to be embarrassed about much of anything. I was too hot even to think. I was too hot to breathe. I was going to die of suffocation if he didn't put it in me.
He put it in my, finally, and apparently I didn't die. I still don't know for sure quite why my luck turned out the way that it did. Oh, well.
He had a schlong on him like I could never forget, and if I live to be twenty five, I shall always preserve in my nerves the feeling of that thing going into me.
It slid in over my lips very slowly, exquisitely, as if it was torture. I could feel every bit of it penetrating me, every inch of swelling, hot, excited flesh.
I was all lubricated and he was all lubricated, and the two of us were wells of throbbing and dripping and oozing juices, and the two of us were terribly excited.
I thought that I was going to come the first time that I felt his flesh against mine. I thought that I was going to come for about a week after that.
His cock moved slowly into me. I helped him. I reached down and put my hand around his cock, and helped him slide it into me. Slowly and carefully.
I was out of breath. He was panting and he was grunting, and he was already wet with sweat. It was a hot afternoon, but not that hot.
We were both wet with sweat, because we were both that excited. You don't sweat in the Valley once you've gotten used to the climate there, unless you're doing something strenuous.
We were engaged in something extremely strenuous. We were fucking each other's eye out. We were fucking so hard and so fast that we might have had to be taken away to the hospital and be treated for overexposure. It was that intense.
He got his thing all of the way into me, and then he started to fuck me, pumping faster and faster, and grunting and panting the whole time that he was doing it.
He moved his hips up and down and up and down, and he moved his cock in and out and in and out, and I moved my hips in time to his, throwing them up at him frantically.
I thrust my hips up and up and up and up at him, grunting like a pig. He was sweating like a pig and I was gruning like a pig, and his cock went in and out and in and out of me.
Over and over again he dove down into me, and over and over again he withdrew, and I thought that it was never going to end. I was building and building and building towards a climax to end all climaxes. AU of the muscles inside of me were getting hard and contracted, and I was waiting for them all to finally release.
I could not imagine that I would survive when finally they all released. It was terribly intense and terribly exciting, and I was terribly aroused.
I am afraid that I forgot my manners, because I really let loose with one long horrific shout when finally I came and came and came and came.
INTERVIEW TWO
Mary's story was hot enough just as it was. However, it was going to get hotter. I had hardly anticipated that it would, and I was sorry that I had worn my light colored trousers to the office that day. So much harder to hide stains.
I hope that you don't think I am a tramp when I tell you the rest of this story. That is hardly the truth. I am hardly a tramp. I am just a victim of circumstances.
As circumstances would have it, shortly after my initial tryst with Marsters, his lovely young wife, whom I will call Marcy-Marcy Marsters, don't ask me why a woman with a first name like hers would marry a man with a last name like his-returned from her business trip.
Did you ever see a dream walking? Well I did. The first time that I ever laid eyes on Marcy Marsters, I was straining at my zipper. Metaphorically, of course.
That is, if I had had anything with which to strain, it certainly would have been straining over Marcy. No one could fail to appreciate that woman. No one.
I'm not normally a switch hitter, but when I saw Marcy I decided that perhaps it was time I learned to be a little more versatile. Mickey Mantle was. It's the American way.
Could I hit a home run with Marcy? I had already gotten into her hubby's pants, and perhaps the way to a woman's heart is through her husband's lonely bed.
Well, if that was the case I had certainly been the proper route. Now the only question was how I was going to be able to maintain my cool for long enough.
I am not entirely patient, Doctor, in case you haven't noticed. Marcy Marsters was the sort of woman I couldn't wait for. But she made me wait.
A good woman will make you wait, and you can judge just how good she is'by the amount of time she has you waiting, and the amount of time you will be willing to stand for it.
I was willing to wait an awfully long time for Marcy. Fortunately, through Marsters' intervention, the period of waiting was cut in half.
He wanted the three of us to get to know one another, and to get to be really good friends.
I didn't have any qualms about that. I was pretty sure I could get to be friends with Marcy.
Marsters had me over one evening for a game of Pac Man, on his home video center. I am not averse to game playing if I think the odds are high that I will win in the end The odds couldn't have been better. I took one look at Marcy, and I knew that she was willing. A thing like that does not have to be told out loud.
A thing like that is delivered to your inner ear by a little dove. Sometimes it's delivered just a little south of your ear-way south-and the dove speaks not with a whistle, but with a shout. Any way you find out is cake with me.
It only matters to know, and I knew. When I walked into the house that evening, I could tell And I knew that Marcy knew, and Marsters, and all of us.
We all knew what we knew, and we knew that we and everybody else in the room knew it, and so we had the exquisite pleasure, which always presents itself in such cases, of pretending that we didn't know anything at all. This charade went on for longer than you would think.
After all, you don't just walk into a man's home, hand him your jacket, and ask him to point you to the baths. You have to be a little civilized first.
So we were civilized. We were so civilized that I thought I was going to wet my pants. Still, I knew that if I waited, I would be rewarded.
In the meantime, I took my reward in gazing at Marcy Marsters. Marsters himself went off to the kitchen to mix us all gimlets-it was getting to be our drink-and I drunk in the sight of his wife.
She was cool. That was the first thing I noticed about her, but it was hardly the only thing. There were so many things there to notice, that it was hard to know where to start.
She was slim and she was but together like Venus, all blonde hair and fair skin, and long slender limbs, and an erect carriage. She was a lady.
If I ever have to think of anyone who came close to being a lady, I will think of her. She had that kind of poise, that kind of carriage She was small breasted, but that didn't make any difference to me. I'm large breasted myself, but you see I never have had much of an interest in women.
Not until this woman. I think what it was that I found attractive about her was that she was built very much like a little boy, except that she was unmistakably feminine.
There was no question in the world what she would turn out to be once she got into the hay. Clearly, she was a lady from stem to stern.
She was all lady, and it was all there for us to enjoy. Marsters brought the drinks into the room, and he gave one to each of us. The banter began.
"Marcy's just back from a little trip to the Hawaiian Islands," he said, looking at me and beaming. I could tell that he was devoted to his wife. I thought that perhaps he could make a disciple out of me. I smiled.
"Oh," I said, "that's very interesting. I understand that it's really hot down there in Hawaii, and that the natives are really very friendly."
Marcy smiled, elegantly. "Well," she said, "there was the odd lei, here and there. They all seem quite wild to give you one. I must have had a dozen or more."
Marsters chuckled, apparently devastated at his wife's wit. Sure, she was sharp, but I liked her more when she kept her mouth shut.
"And Mary, here," he said, of me, to his wife, "was having trouble with the lawn mower, when I met her. I offered to fix it for her."
"I wanted to cut grass, but he suggested a roll in the hay, instead," I said, getting right to the point. Marsters glared at me.
"Honestly," Marcy said, finally, "I don't see that there's any point in beating around the bush with this. We all know why we're here. Let's get to it."
I couldn't believe my ears. Evidently Marsters could not believe his ears, either. The two of us were a little shocked, but Marcy seemed to be taking everything in stride.
"Well," she said, "what is the point of carrying on this charade? I frankly do not see that there is any point to it at all. None at all."
I had to agree with her on that. I could see that Marsters was nodding, too, although the heel should have had the grace to say we ought to wait.
I mean you don't just jump right into a threesome with the girl next door until you're a little juiced and a little lubricated.
Well, we were getting juiced. It was time for another round of gimlets. Clearly, we thought that maybe we all had to wait just a little bit.
We all had to wait and see what the evening brought with it. Sometimes you have to leave such things to chance, and they develop themselves.
However, because of Marcy's comment we were no longer able to pretend that we were there for other than the most prurient reasons.
There was no kidding around anymore, as far as anyone was concerned, and that kind of put a damper on the conversation. What it did was make it rather difficult for anyone to say anything without having it construed as some kind of sexual remark.
I don't know how you feel about it, Doc, but I find that when I get into those sexual word play games, I could just about go out of my skull.
I could just about croak when that sort of thing gets started. My reaction is that if you want it badly enough you'll just do it, but if you have to talk about it all the time, there must be something wrong. And I was not pleased that we had to talk about it.
"Listen," I said, "Admiral Nelson did not become a hero with words, even though it's his famous quotation that we remember. Let's see a little action, here."
At that point, Marcy nodded, and she quietly got up. Neither Marsters nor I quite knew what was going down. He started to follow her.
"No," she said, "I want to be left alone for a few minutes. I'll be right back. The two of you sit in here and finish off your drinks, why don't you."
So we did. You don't disobey a woman like that. You do just as she recommends. So we sat sipping the dregs of our gimlets, feeling a little rank.
"I had no idea that your wife was such a number," I said to Marsters. "It looks to me as if the two of you could make very lovely children."
"Yeah," he said, unashamed to admit that he was one hell of a hunk, "that's what I think, but Marcy is reluctant about it. She says
"Take it from me," I said, "the nice thing about having kids is that they grow up after awhile, and then you get to have all kinds of fun and games with them."
I winked, and he said, "I don't think of you as a kid, Mary. I think of you as a great deal older than all of that. Do you think of yourself as a kid?"
"I think of myself as your baby," I said, and I curled up in his lap and patted the bulge that was forming in his trousers. "Always ready, aren't you?"
"That's the way they taught us in the Boy Scouts," he said, smiling, and shifting on the couch so that I could get a better hold of the lump in his trousers. "Oh," I said, "it's just a big sugar daddy and I want to lick it." I pulled down his zipper, and dipped my hand into his trousers.
I pulled the prize out of the Cracker Jacks box. What a prize, indeed. And it didn't even need to be assembled. It was just there, ready to play with.
It was so big and thick that I found myself again marveling at the size of it. I'll never know how a heavily endowed man is able to carry such a thing around with him.
"What do you do when you get excited in awkward situations?" I asked him. "How the hell do you hide a thing like that? Huh?"
I stroked it gently, rubbing my fingers over the underside of it, as he answered my queries. He said, "Well, you know, most other men understand."
"Yeah," I said, "but what about most women? I would think that that would pose a little bit of a problem." I moved my fingers up and down the length of the underside of his cock.
"Well, now," he said, "the thing about that is that they don't really mind, either. Unless they're old or they're lesbians or virgins or something odd like that."
"God forbid!" I said, sliding my lips down over the head of his cock. It tasted warm and it tasted sweet and wet. He was always wet and he was always hard.
I flicked my tongue' into the slit at the head of his cock, and I could feel him shivering. I could also hear him moaning. He shifted on the couch, to make it easier for both of us.
I moved my mouth all the way down the length of his cock, from the head of it to its base, and I could feel his hair against my cheeks as I reached the base of his cock.
The hair was curly and spiky and it tickled my cheeks, and it tingled. I liked the feeling of that, and so I left my mouth all the way on him, opening up my throat so that I could hold him inside of my mouth as long as I wanted to.
I didn't ever want to let him out of my mouth. I slapped my tongue up against the underside of his cock, glueing it there, and sucking on him as hard as I could.
I have sucked on an occasional candy bar a little harder than that, but not much harder. If they could market and package a cock that you could suck on, they could make a mint.
He was panting now and he was terribly excited. He was gently thrusting his hips up into my mouth, and I was moving with him, holding on and not letting go.
I was not going to let go of his cock, as if my life depended on it. Sometimes there are things you have to do, and this was one of those times, and holding onto his cock was one of those things. I sucked him as if I were a vacuum cleaner.
He was moaning and grunting softly. "Oh, baby," he was saying, "yes, baby, yes." I was pretty sure that he was having a good time, which was fine with me.
I was having a good time, too. I didn't think that I was ever going to want to stop. As far as I could tell, I had found my place in the cosmos.
Of course, the two of us had completely forgotten about Marcy, as if such a thing were possible. Well, we had forgotten about her. But she rectified the situation.
As I was sucking up and down and up and down on Marsters' cock, and really having a go at it, Marcy was slowly coming up behind me.
I didn't hear her coming, but I felt here. There was something pressing up under my dress at my unprotected ass. I looked around, and there she was, wearing the sexiest nightgown you have ever see, and directing an electric vibrator carefully up my asshole.
Well, now, this was new to me, completely. I had never had anything up my ass before, but I thought that if the thing were coming from Marcy, that I could stand it.
I smiled, and encouraged her, and I went on sucking on her husband's cock. She really didn't seem to mind at all that I was doing that. She was a very understanding wife.
I pumped up and down on his cock, but suddenly my attention was diffused, because I could feel the pressure of that vibrating thing working its way up into my asshole.
It was the strangest sensation. It moved up like a large turd, except that instead of going out it was coming in. I can't say that I altogether enjoyed the sensation, but it was interesting.
It vibrated, and the insides of me started to respond to that. Muscles in places I didn't know I even had muscles started to tingle and to feel good.
I was feeling good all over, and the feeling that was coming in my asshole started spreading. I started to get the feeling in my cunt as well, and I shivered.
"Oh," I said, excited, and not exactly sure what to do about it, "oh, oh." My cunt was breaking into spasms, and I was terribly excited.
I wanted it in my cunt. It was alright to have it in my ass, but that really wasn't my bag, and I thought that I could have it inside my cunt.
I let go of Marsters for just a second. That was almost tragic, but I figured that whatever he had would probably keep. Then I turned around, and I told her what I wanted.
"I want you to put that thing in my pussy," I said, "I really want to have that thing in my pussy. Can you please put it inside of my pussy?"
I was mad to have it in my pussy, and it would have been alright if she had put her tongue in there, too. I am never averse to a little oral stimulation.
"I have a better idea," she said. "You don't want this foul thing inside of your pussy now that I have had it up inside of your asshole."
"That's true," I said, "but I'm so turned on right now that I could take anything you had to give me, whether it was a board with a nail in it or whatever."
"Oh," she said, "but I have such a better idea. I think that I really want to eat you out as you have never been eaten out in your life."
"How did you know that that was just exactly what I wanted?" I asked her , amazed at her sensitivity, to which she replied, "A woman knows."
Well, I guess a woman does know. She moved her head up under my skirt, and got it between my legs, and then I started to feel things down there that I could not have imagined it possible for a person to feel. Wow, that was out of this world.
She moved her tongue over and over my outer lips, and then she moved it over my inner lips. I was all hot and wet down there and there was really a smell coming off of me.
I was dripping and I was excited, and there was nothing in the world that would not have done the trick for me at that point in time, but it just so happening that it was working really even better than I expected to have her head between my legs.
My God she really was an expert, and she knew all the moves. I think that she must have gone to some sort of school to get some sort of basic training or something like that.
She slid her lips down over the head of my clit, and tortured it with her tongue. It was exquisite. I could hardly tell whether it was pleasure or pain that I was feeling.
She had crossed the line, or rather she was toeing it, and it was hard for me to know whether I was really enjoying this with pleasure, or with smarting.
One way or the other, it really didn't matter, and, stimulated, I went back to work on Marsters, who was nearly out of his mind, now. He was beating his meat all by himself.
"Oh, you shouldn't be left to your own devices like that," I said. "A man should never be left to his own devices. Let me see if I can help you."
"Oh, baby," he said, "you don't know how long it is that I have been waiting for you to say just that. You really don't know how long it has been."
"I know perfectly well how long it has been. It has been no longer than five minutes at the most. That is exactly how long it has been. And don't you tell me otherwise."
"It's just that it has seemed an eternity, since you have been gone," he said, and I have the feeling that he really meant it. That was very touching.
I moved my mouth down hard on his cock, and cupped his balls in my hand, rubbing them and kneading them, and rolling them around as hard as I could.
I decided that he was going to have it rough, and I found out that he really liked it that way. He moaned and he sighed and he bounced up and down.
As I was licking him and rubbing him and stroking him, until all the hot and excited juices were flowing fast and furious from the very tip of his cock, I was getting the eating out of my life down between my legs. Marcy was really doing a job on me.
She was nibbling and she was chewing and she was teasing and licking. I never really knew that it could be like that. I was terribly surprised.
Her lips were all rubbery and smooth, and she moved them over and over the head of my clit. Her vibrator was all clean now, she having brought along a towel for that purpose, and she slid the vibrator up my slit. She moved it into my hole.
IN and out and in and out of me she moved the vibrator, and I have to say that it was a very close second to having Marsters himself inside of me.
The whole effect though, was of having my cock and sucking it too, becuase I not only had a big hot thing inside of me, I had a big hot thing in my mouth.
It was heaven. I sucked and licked and sucked and licked, and Marcy moved the dildo in and out and in and out of me, and Marsters popped up and down on the couch, pushing his cock up into my mouth, over and over again.
Well, well all came, even Marcy came, and that was one apocalyptic come. My God.
CONCLUSION
Ah, yes, delusions of grandeur. We all have them, when we are still but school boys and girls. We all imagine that we have had the best, the biggest, the hardest, the most intense, the most complete, the most enjoyable. Well, now.
I have been young once too. And I want you to know that I have the biggest, hottest, wettest, thickest, juiciest, throbbingest, cummingest schlong of any eighteen year old on the block, and so there, nyah, nyah, nyah.
CASE HISTORY FOUR
SUBJECT: Joan D. AGE: Twenty-eight
INTERVIEW ONE
There's nothing I find more offensive than a sophisticate, but alas. Joan told me all about her past, and it is as juicy and racy as you could want. I mean maybe it's not the stuff of wet dreams, but you can't have everything.
I came to New York from Sacramento. What did I know? I was a child, a mere child. I had won a scholarship contest, by which I was to be interned for the summer to some high fashion magazine. It was the summer I got out of college, and I still had a lot of illusions.
Most of them were soundly shattered by the time that summer was over, but the thing is to tell you how it happened. I want you to know the details.
I have always had a very romantic sense of New York. I have always thought that it was the place you went to be rich and to be famous. I didn't realize that it was also the place you went to get laid. Laid laid laid, as laid as you can be.
It happened to me almost immediately. It seemed that every man in the city was on the make, and since I was just a little girl straight off the bus ... Well.
I got a bus from the John F. Kennedy Airport right into the Port Authority in mid town Manhattan, but I didn't know midtown from my ass.
I didn't know where anything was or what or who or why anything was. I only knew from what I had seen in pictures and read in magazines.
So when a cab driver offered to take me the scenic route to my hotel room, I just thought that he was being nice. It never occurred to me that he would have an ulterior motive.
Nothing ever occurred to me as anything but what it seemed until it was far too late. The guy driving the cab seemed nice enough, a family man.
I should have memorized his name in the picture, but he wanted me to get in front with him. "Sit right on up front, honey," he said, as soon as he discerned that I was not a native New Yorker. "You'll get a better view of everything from that angle."
So I got into the front seat with him. Why not, I thought. He reminded me a little bit of the man who used to come in Sacramento and fix our yard.
He was just a nice jolly fellow with a sort of accent, a harsh kind of accent, and I was enjoying having scored big right off the bat. I thought that if the cab drivers were this friendly, that the rest of the natives must be wonderful.
"Gee," I said, "it sure is kind of you to go out of your way for me like this. I really do appreciate it. I appreciate it a whole lot."
"Don't worry about it, honey," he said. "I don't know that you'll find every New Yorker to be as accommodating and Tnerous as I am, but that's the way it goes."
He was a pleasant man, but he had a kind of flat smell about him, as if he had been sitting in that cab for hours-maybe even days-and had not done much else.
He had a brawny look about him. He was a tough guy, with an accent, but a sweet face. I think I trusted him because he had that sweet face.
Of course, I am careful about such things now. I hardly ever have anything to do with men who have sweet faces. Really, I hardly ever have a thing to do with them.
It's all on account of this one guy, really, but then, isn't everything on account of one guy, when you get down to things.
So I'm shy of men with very sweet faces, and it's all on account of this one dude, who really did me dirty, as they say in detective lingo.
However, at the time I really didn't realize what was going on, because I was just a hick from Sacramento, straight off the bus for all of that.
I do not exaggerate. Literally, I was straight off the bus. I doubt if this young man could have taken advantage of me under any other conditions.
However, that was the way it was. That was the way that it was, alas. We drove along, and in awhile-a longer while, I am embarrassed to admit, than you would think-it occurred to me that we were crossing a bridge.
"How come we're crossing a bridge?" I wanted to know. I thought it was a reasonable enough question. I had been led to understand that New York was an island, and that you only had to cross a bridge once to get to it.
"Well," he said, fumbling, "you see, this is really a detour. There's some road work ahead, and I thought that we might just go this way."
That was a pretty simple line, and even as simple a person as I could detect that something was amiss. I started to wonder what I was going to do.
I said, "You're not really taking me the scenic route, at all, are you?" I looked at his face, and tried to make some kind of impression on him. Maybe I could appeal to his sympathy, I thought. Maybe he had a daughter or a sister my age.
"Well, now," he said, "if I was you I wouldn't go getting all excited about nothing." Then he pulled a switchblade out of his pocket, and clicked it open.
He didn't point the knife at me, or anything, but I got the message. I was mortified. He was in control of the car, and we were driving too fast for me to do anything.
I could hardly have gotten out of the car, and he ran quite a few red lights just to make sure that I didn't have a chance to escape when the car was at a standstill.
He moved on and on, and it was clear to me by then that I was really in a lot of trouble, deep, deep trouble. "What is it you want from me?" I said.
I was prepared to offer him any sum of money, or at least, as much as I had, and though most of that was in travellers' cheques, still, I did have about one hundred dollars cash.
But he didn't seem to want money. He only laughed. "Huh," he grunted, "you can't buy me off that easy, lady." He kept on driving.
Eventually, we approached a park, and it was here, apparently, that he was to do with me what it was that he wanted to do with me.
I didn't know how I should respond. I was young and frightened and alone in a city I didn't know, and the only thing that I could think of to do was to cooperate.
That was the only thing that I could think of to do. And so I cooperated. I was as polite as I could be, and I was pleasant, and I did everything that he asked.
What he asked me to do was easily figured out, but I had never had a man at that time, and you can imagine that it was rather traumatic for me.
He drove the car on into the park, and came to a rest in a parking lot. He got out of his side of the car, and ran around to my side, all the time holding onto the knife.
I wondered if he would have tried a thing like this if I had been a man, but then I realized that that was probably an irrelevant notion.
He wouldn't be going this at all if I were a man, and suddenly that made me very angry. Suddenly, I was tremendously angry with him.
Not that it could make any difference, but I think it was the anger than got me through it. I don't think that I would have made it if I had not been so angry.
Clearly, there was nothing to do but what he wanted, and so I followed him. He wandered around what I later came to learn was Flushing Meadows Park, and I wandered around at his side. We didn't see anyone else, but if we had, I don't know what I would have done.
It was late in the afternoon, and there didn't seem to be anyone else around. I was hoping that the park might be crowded with people, and so make it difficult for him to defile me.
However, it was terribly easy for him to defile me. I shiver know just thinking about how defenseless I was. It really is awful to think about.
He took me around the other side of a big old building, and there, in the bushes, he said, "Lie down, and pull your dress up; and do as I say or you won't get hurt."
He still had the knife in his hand, and he was pointing it at me. I could tell that he was capable of violence, just from the way that he was shaking.
I think he must have been frightened. I think that he was frightened that something was going to happen to him. He was probably a whole lot more frightened than I was.
I lay down on the grass, and I lifted my dress up around my hips. I was trying not to think about what was going to happen to me.
Oddly enough, what upset me the most was that I was probably getting my dress all messed up. That was the only thing that I could really concentrate on.
I was thinking to myself that my mother had helped me pick it out, and that she would probably be very upset when she found out that I had ruined it.
I thought about that, and I hardly thought about the man with the knife. He didn't seem so nice, now that he was out of the cab.
His sweet face made him look even meaner. I was pretty upset about everything, but in a way that I was numb, and nothing really had any effect on me.
He glanced around, and then he got down on his knees beside me, and he pulled down his trousers. Inside his jockey shorts, his cock was bulging.
"You see that?" he said to me. "That's on account of you. I never woulda had a thing like that ceptin women is always tempting me.
He said it as if he really believed it, and wanted me to understand it. I nodded my head up and down, agreeing with him. "Yes," I said, "I see."
He reached out and slapped me. "No," he said, "you don't see. You're just agreeing with me because you're scared that I'm going to hurt you."
Well, I didn't see how he could really expect me to have any other sort of reaction. Obviously I was afraid that he was going to try and hurt me. Obviously I was going to do whatever I could to see that he didn't hurt me any more than necessary.
He said, "You're all like that, you're all bitches and whores, and all that you ever want to do is to give guys a hard time. That's all."
Since he didn't want me to agree with him, I didn't agree with him this time. I just lay there on the grass and tried not to focus on him too clearly.
I really didn't want to see his face. I didn't want to know what it looked like. I was not interested in anything like that. I was only interested in saving my skin, if not my virginity, but I thought that I would gladly trade the latter for the benefit of the former.
"I know all about you women," he said to me. "You all is nothing but a bunch of whores and bitches, and even the best of you is nothing but a whore."
I stared at him, wondering what it was that he wanted to do. I could hardly imagine that I was just supposed to sit there and listen to this kind of thing, but if that was what he wanted, then that was what he was going to get.
"You see this?" he said, pointing with his knife to a cock that was fully erect, angry with excitement and with need. "You see this?"
He pushed his cock in my face. "Yes," I said, "I see it." I would have had to have been blind not to see it, but I didn't say that to him.
"This is all your fault," he said. "It's always in this state of affairs, and I got no one to blame but women. Always tempting me."
Well, now clearly the man had very severe psychological problems. There wasn't any question in my mind about that. What was I going to do?
That was a very good question. What was I going to do. I would have liked to have known right then and there what to do, but there was nothing I could do.
I just looked at him, and he said, "Suck it." He didn't say it harshly, or anything like that, and I thought that if that was the worst of it, I was lucky.
"Suck it, bitch," he said, and he pushed his cock in my face. I opened up my mouth, and he forced the whole thing down into my mouth. I nearly gagged. I tried to get a breath in, somewhere along the line, but he was quite determined that I should suck his cock, and so I sucked it.
He kept repeating, "Suck it," over and over again, until I hated the sound of his voice as much as I hated the taste of his cock.
"Suck it," he said, and I took the thing in my mouth, all the way down into my throat, and sucked and sucked as hard as I could, and flattened my tongue against the underside of it.
I don't know that I was very good at it, never having had to do anything like that before. But he seemed satisfied. He grunted and panted disgustingly, as a man grunts and pants when he is having his basest desires fulfilled.
In and out of my mouth he pushed his cock, and I took it, holding my lips firmly around the circumference of it, so that I could suck on it.
I wet my lips and made them pliant and rubbery, and he moved his cock in and out between them, and made grunting noises in the back of his throat.
"That's it, bitch," he said, "you really like it, don't you." I could hardly have responded to this, with his cock in my mouth, and I would not have told him, even if I could have, that I thought it was the most repellent thing that had ever happened to me.
I was so appalled that I was numb, and I could hardly feel a thing. All I knew was the in and out of his cock in my mouth, and his grunts and pants.
His breathing got louder and louder, and I wondered what I was going to do if he came in my mouth. Clearly, he would be upset if I didn't swallow his semen, but I didn't know that I could.
I really wasn't certain that I was going to be able to do that. But the problem was solved for me, in a second, though a larger problem took its place.
Just as I thought that he was going to let it fly right into my mouth, he withdrew, and he said, in a gruff and urgent tone of voice, "Spread your legs."
Well, those were the three words that I dreaded most, and now that I had heard him utter them, a hollow opened up in the pit of my stomach, into which fell the strands of personal integrity which still remained to me.
Slowly, and reluctantly, I did as he asked, because of course he still held the knife, and he still had it pointed at me. I was afraid of that knife.
I spread my legs, and then he said, "Get rid of the panties." The panties were new like the dress and I suddenly felt very old taking them off.
Often I had fantasized about my first time, thinking about what it would be like, but never once in any of my fantasies had I come up with a scene like this.
Never once had I imagined that it would be like this, in a city where I knew no one, with a man I had never seen before, in the park, at the point of a knife.
I said good bye to my youth, in a way, as I slid my panties down my legs. "Wait a minute," I said, noticing how dry I was, "can you at least let me lubricate?"
He looked at me as if I was from another planet. I think that he truly was repulsed by the sight of my vagina, and didn't know how to deal with that.
I quickly spit on my hands, and rubbed them all over myself. If he was going to tear into me, and break my hymen, then at least it could be lubricated.
That was what I was thinking. I worked very quickly, and he looked at me rather strangely, as if a woman was so alien to him as to seem tsarist.
He watched me. I am always surprised when I think back on that one moment at how surprised he really was that I had to do that. I don't think he understood at all how a woman worked, and if I had just had my wits about me a little better, I might have been able to play on his ignorance, and con him out of what he wanted to do to me.
However, that moment between us, when he looked at me almost as if I were in charge, almost as if the needs I had as a woman were as much a weapon against him as his knife was a weapon against me, passed quickly, and within very little time he had collected himself.
"Alright," he said, "I think that that's enough." He still held his knife. He was not as gruff now as he had been in the first place, but clearly he was not to be deflected from having his way with me. He brushed my hands aside.
At first he had trouble getting inside of me. That was so pathetic, it was almost embarrassing. I was almost sorry for him. He had to ask me to help him.
He didn't exactly know where to put his cock. I was beginning to think that it was his first time, as well as mine. I almost laughed at him.
I reached down, and touched his cock, careful not to upset him, wary as I was of his knife. His cock was big and it was rather thick, and a little thick for me.
I had to stretch and adjust to take him all of the way inside of me. It was hard to do. I had never had anything in there before, not even my fingers, except when I was taking a shower or that sort of thing, and so to get him inside of me took some effort.
He was getting upset and impatient, and I was worried that if he got angry with me he would do me real bodily harm. I tried my best to get him into me.
He was clumsy, but eventually the two of us managed, and then when he was all the way into me, piercing through my hymen, he started to pound up and down on top of me.
I lay there, and I let it happen. I tried not to think of anything. I tried to concentrate on the pain that was inside of me at the breaking of my hymen.
I was grateful at least for the lubrication provided when that happened, happy at least that there was something down there more than simply saliva.
He pounded and pounded and pounded on top of me, like a piston, and it was uncomfortable, and I was raw between my legs, and it hurt, and I was frightened.
But I bit my lower lip and let him move in and out and in and out of me. If that was what "ie wanted, then I would let him have it, because I was young, and I was naive, and there was still that knife. No matter how you looked at it, he had the upper hand.
I think if this were to happen to me now, I would know how to deal with it, but I was so young at the time, and I just didn't know what to do.
I have since stopped flagellating myself for letting that happen to me, because I realize that there was nothing else I could have done, but what I did.
He pounded up and down and up and down on top of me, over and over again, and I thought that I was going to start crying, but I didn't want to do that.
I was wishing that he would hurry and that it would end. I was upset, but wishing it would end. Finally, he came, and as soon as he did he folded the still seeping organ back into his trousers, and he turn and he ran. He didn't even say anything.
I lay there all sticky between my legs, and brutalized, and violated, and I have never felt so awful in my life. Then I realized my bag was in his cab, still, and that he surely would not come back to return it to me, and finally that was what made me cry.
INTERVIEW TWO
Joan's story but me in a very sober mood. I was hardly pleased with the example that had been set for her by that nameless cab driver. But her travails had only just begun. Read on, and learn of what evils to avoid in the big city.
You would think that that would have been enough, wouldn't you? You would also think that I had learned my lesson, and that I was no longer naive. You would think wrong.
I had not learned my lesson at all, apparently. I had not, it seemed, learned much of anything. I had not learned much of anything at all.
What I had learned was that I was suddenly out of money. All of my money and all of my travellers' cheques had been in my bag, and the place where I had written down the numbers for my cheques was also in that bag. And so I was dead broke and very frightened.
I made my way back into the city that evening one way or another. I was out in Queens, I had not the faintest idea where in the hell that I was.
I didn't even know that Queens existed. I had never heard of such a place before. I had not the faintest idea where I was and not the faintest idea what I was going to do.
I was really in a jam. However, when such a thing happens, something takes over, some kind of shock, or something like that, and suddenly you know what it is that you are going to do. Suddenly, you are perfectly aware of what you are going to do.
I was perfectly aware of what I had to do, although I didn't realize it at the time. I didn't quite realize it. My mind went on automatic pilot, and my body did all the work.
I got myself together, and I found the nearest pay phone, and I dialed Emergency. I told them where I was, and that I was lost, and that I had gotten rolled and left by a cab driver.
I really didn't want to talk about being raped. I didn't want to admit to myself that it had happened. All I wanted to do was get to a hotel room somewhere, and have a bath.
I already had a reservation at the room, and I would be able to call the office from there, the office where I was supposed to work, and then I would work things out.
I didn't want to deal with the police, and they weren't too upset what had happened. They were great. They offered me all kind of assisstance, but I didn't want any, and I tried to make like I was a native New Yorker.
They weren't fooled by that, I have no doubt, but then I must have appeared self sufficient enough to them, because they more or less left me to my own devices.
That was what I wanted them to do, and that was what I did. They let me out at the Port Authority, from whence I had started, and I tried to start again.
Then it was that another . awful thing happened to me, although I didn't know how awful it was until much later. But it was a very awful thing.
I was in the Port Authority, and I really didn't have any money at all for a cab, or for a subway, or for a bus, and even if I had, I would not have known where to go.
I didn't know how to get where I had to go just by walking from there. I was in white a state of mind, clearly a bad one, and I really didn't know what it was that I would do.
That was when I met Ugly Bob. I didn't know at the time that he was Ugly Bob, but now I know that that was who he was. He was Ugly Bob.
He was a man with a pot belly, and he had this video camera around his shoulder, and he walked up to me so gracefully, and he said, "Is there something that you need, young lady?"
He had a nice voice. I think that that was what attracted me to him in the first place. The cab driver had had a harsh and grating voice, with an accent.
This guy just had the kind of voice that you would like to hear, it was not a different sounding voice at all, it was the sort of voice that I was used to.
"Oh," I said, and I hardly even looked at him, because he approached me from behind, and the first impression I had of him was his voice, and it was just so nice to hear a sympathetic voice that I sat right down and poured my heart out to him.
"Oh," I said, "I've been in such terrible trouble. You can't imagine what terrible trouble I've been in. I just got off the airplane from Sacramento, and I have never been in New York before, never in my life, and I'm supposed to be at this hotel room, and everything is horrible, and then this man, this cab driver, he took me out somewhere, and he molested me, and then he drove away with all of my money, and it's so horrid."
And then I started sobbing. I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, and I don't think there was a person passing by who didn't look at me.
They must have known what Ugly Bob was going to do to me. They must have realized it, because of course he's notorious in this town. But no one said a thing to me.
So I let him be sympathetic. "There, there," he said, "why don't you see if you can remember the name of the hotel and the room number, and I'll take you there myself."
I could hardly believe that anyone would be so kind to me after what I had gone through, and I told him right away the name of the hotel and of the room, which I had memorized, fortunately, and he said that he would get a cab for the two of us and I was not to worry.
He went outside and then he came right back in and he said that he had a cab waiting, and that I could go with him now. He followed me into the cab, and we headed for our hotel.
I was so grateful to him that I hardly knew what to say. I was terribly grateful. I didn't even ask him about all of his video equipment. I didn't think that it was odd, at all. I only thought that he was someone important, and that he had taken time out from his busy life to deal with me. I was terribly grateful. I'm sure now that that was what he was counting on, and it makes me just blue in the face with anger and with hatred just to think about it.
However, it was a lesson that I had to learn, and I'm glad that I learned it right away, rather than having to find out slowly like everyone else.
We went onto my hotel room, and I thought nothing of his wanting to come up with me. He was my guardian angel, and I was ever so pleased.
He knew how to deal with the people at the front desk of the hotel, and he knew how to deal with the bellboy, and he knew how to do all these things.
I was just so pleased to have a real New Yorker along that I would hardly have questioned his motives. Anyway, there we were practically in public, and I figured that no one would take advantage of me in public. I figured things would be okay.
We went up to my room, and that was when he started asking me questions. I had told him that I didn't have any money with me, and that I would need some.
He said that he knew a way that I could earn some money very quickly. He said that it was easy to earn, and that he could give me a little in advance right away.
He said that he could give me twenty dollars as an advance, and then one hundred and fifty dollars later on if all I would do was pose for him.
He said that he was a representative from some high fashion modeling firm, and they were always on the lookout for new faces, and that he thought I had the look.
If I would just pose for him, he said, he would tape me with his video camera equipment, and then I would get twenty dollars now, one hundred and fifty later, and then a chance to do some real modeling if they liked my pictures.
And he said that if I got to do real modeling, one hundred and fifty dollars was chicken feed compared to what he was going to be able to get for me.
He said he knew that because he could tell. He had been in the business a long time, and he knew what would sell. He said that I had the look.
He said he went to the Port Authority to find new talent, and that he had seen all kinds of girls coming into the city from all kinds of places, but he had never seen anyone before who had the look quite as abundantly as I did.
He gave me these numbers to call so that I could talk to people who would verify his story, and he said that if I wanted to we could get started right away.
He said that he was certain I was the absolute best and that this little bit now was going to be a drop in the bucket compared to what I would be earning soon.
My head was spinning. He was throwing so much information at me all at once, that I hardly knew what to say or do. He seemed trustworthy enough, but I couldn't be sure.
"If you don't want to," he said, "of course, it's up to you. But any way that you look at it, you can't lose. It's an easy one fifty, and that kind of money goes very quickly in this town, especially when you're new here and you don't know where the bargains are."
Well, I had to agree with him. He was talking sense. I really could think of anything to say to refute his claims, and I wasn't in the mood to call anyone Still, he said that he wanted me to be sure, and so he dialed the number himself, and he had a woman who he called his contact at the fashion agency.
The woman told me her name, and it was the name of the agency, and it was a realistic sounding name, and she repeated to me all of the details that he had told me.
It seemed like a pretty convincing set up all around, and I was pretty sure that I was going to be able to trust the guy. I could tell that I could.
I thought about the money and I decided that it was going to be okay to do it. I mean, I was just a kid, I really didn't know what the hell I was doing.
"Alright," I said to him, "if you think that this is such a good idea, well, then, maybe it is. Can we get this over with right away?"
"Well," he said, playing a game with me, looking at his watch, "I am a little pressed for time, but if you want to I suppose that I can do it right here, right now."
"And you'll give me the twenty dollars up front?" I said, using his lingo, and feeling as if I had really made an impression with that very word.
"Oh, sure," he said, "here." He pulled the twenty dollar bill out of his pocket, and he gave it to me, just so that I would be certain that everything was on the level.
"Alright," I said, "what is it that you want me to do?"
"Strip," he said.
I must have looked rather shocked. He said, "Oh, now, honey, there's nothing to be bashful about. Don't you worry about a thing. I've seen plenty of naked girls in the buff, before. There isn't any problem about that. You go ahead and strip. They'll need that just to tell how you look. They want to be sure they're getting the real thing, you know."
"Oh yes," I said, "sure. The real thing. No problem about that at all." I felt a little foolish, but I didn't want to seem as if I was some prude, and so I did what he asked.
I took off my clothes. "Not so fast," he said, disappearing behind the camera. "Not so fast. Slower, honey, please."
I pranced around in front of him in the middle of the room, and I slowly took off all of my clothing. I was a little bit embarrassed, but he seemed only interested in filming me.
He followed me around the room with his camera, as I took off one layer after another of clothing. Needless to say, I was overdressed for the New York summer.
It took me a lot longer than you might think to get everything off. It took me quite awhile. Eventually, I had stripped, and I was walking around completely naked.
It was then that I realized that he had his cock in his hands, that he was no longer filming me. and that something awful was about to happen.
"What are you doing?" I said, but he lunged for me. He said, "Don't do anything, baby, I've got the film of all of that, and I can use that against you in any way you can name. Now if you don't do exactly as I say, I'm selling that bit of tape to a cable porn station with whom I do business, and your lovely body will show up naked back in Sacramento, no doubt."
I was astounded. I could hardly believe that this was happening to me all over again. It just didn't seem possible that this sort of thing could happen to me again. I could hardly believe it. But then, something awful had already happened to me.
So if that was the way that it was going to be, then that was the way that it was going to be. There was nothing at all that I could think to do.
He had the tape, and he had me where he wanted me. I lay down on the bed and let him have at it. He quickly got out of his clothing, and he hoisted his body onto mine.
He lapped at my cunt. That seemed to be what interested him the most. He lapped and lapped at it with his eager little tongue, lapping and licking and slurping.
He went for my outer lips first, licking them and pulling on them and gnawing at them, and the he parted them and went onto my inner lips, which he nibbled at.
He made disgusting sounds as if he were eating something, rather than simply getting a mouthful of me. By that time, it almost felt to me as if it was a natural thing that should happen, and I thought that I could deal with it. I was none too pleased, but I thought that I could deal with it.
So I lay there, and I let him lap at my cunt. It really was the most disgusting thing, but I think that by that point I was immune to that thing.
I think that I was immune, and I let him do it. He slid his lips down over the head of my clit, and he nibbled at it, sucked and nibbled, and he giggled.
He went wild. I don't know that he had had a woman in a long time. I almost preferred the cab driver to him, who was at least a little timid.
But there was no stopping this guy. He knew what he wanted, and he went ahead and got it. He lapped and sucked and nibbled, and he chewed and slobbered.
It was really gross. His cock was very hard and he was terribly excited. He was jerking himself off with one hand as he went at my cunt with his wide open mouth.
He slid a finger up my slit, and played with me. He moved his finger in and out and in and out of my slit, and be nibbled and chewed at my inner lips.
My clit was engorged in spite of itself, and he flicked the tip of it with his tongue, and slid his lips down over its head, to nibble and to play with it.
I called out in disgust, and in a sort of frenzy of revulsion, but there was nothing that I could do. He was getting up on top of me now, and he wanted to slid his cock into me. He was also playing with my breasts. He reached for them, and fondled them.
He took my nipples in his fingers and twisted them around, and he played with them and fondled and caressed them. He was terribly excited and he was grunting.
I could feel the cloth from his coat against me, and I could feel the hot breath on my neck as he played with my tits and with my nipples.
My nipples were red and erect and aching, more out of fear and revulsion than anything else. I was really upset, and he was slobbering all over me.
He slobbered and slobbered and went on about his business, and I could feel him pressing his hardened cock up between my legs. His cock was wet and hard.
It was thick with his lubrication at its very tip, and it was hard and red all the way up and down its length. He eased it towards me.
He was better at what he was doing than the cab driver, who seemed only to want to get in me and out of me as quickly as he could.
This guy seemed to want to take his time. He held onto the head of his cock, and he rubbed it around inside of me, pressing it against my inner lips.
He moved it over the head of my clit, and teased my clit with it. He pushed it near my slit, and slid it in, very briefly, and then pulled it out again.
All the while, he' was playing with my breasts, fondling them and groping for them, and grappling with the. He twisted my nipples around and around between his thumbs and forefingers.
It was disgusting, really, and it was terribly offensive, but there was nothing that I could do about it. there was nothing at all that I could do about it.
I lay there, and I let him take me. He took me. He forced his cock into me, and then he started to ride me. He started moving up and down on top of me.
Slowly, with a sort of rocking motion, he moved up and down and up and down on me, rocking back and forth and back and forth, as slowly as he could.
He rocked and rocked and rocked, and he was all of the way inside of me. I didn't mind it that much, really. At least it didn't hurt.
He seemed to have a better sense of what he was doing than the cab driver, and I thought to myself that I should probably try and enjoy it.
So I relaxed, and I went ahead and moved with him, careful to think of him as someone other than the man who was doing this thing to me.
There was a boy back home with whom I was in love. He was a wonderful boy, strong and dark and handsome, and I had always had a crush on him.
He had not wanted me to go away to New York, because he wanted me to marry him and to make babies, and I had told this boy to beat it, but I still had a crush on him.
I thought about what he would look like without any clothes on. His muscles had always shown so nicely in outline against his clothing.
He had nice, hard, firm, lean muscles, and it was always a pleasure to look at him. He had thick black hair all over his body, and that was exciting.
I decided that his cock was probably very long and tapered, and not too thick, and that he would have black hair all around it. I thought that he would have cute little buttocks, and that he would lick my cunt, and then penetrate me.
I would spread my legs to let him all of the way inside of me, and then I would let him ride me, pumping gently up and down and up and down on top of me.
Up and down he would pump, and it would be very gentle and very slow, and something inside of me would react very calmly and happily to what was happening.
Then I would begin to feel my orgasm building within me, and it would build and build, and within very little time I would ha on the verge of orgasm.
I would throw my arms around his back, and hold onto him, and then he would drive into me very hard and very fast, and then he would come and I would come, and that would be that.
Well, that was that, as far as I could tell. My fantasy ended, and I realized that the man I thought was my friend from Sacramento was really Ugly Bob.
CONCLUSION
Clearly Joan's case was that of a small town girl coming to the big city and learning the ways of the world. One is hard put to believe that anyone could be as naive as she appeared to be, but it happens. The only thing that I could tell her was I hoped that she had learned from her mistakes. Then I invited her to a secluded grove, where I thought she might enjoy taking a look at my etchings. Heh heh heh.
CASE HISTORY FIVE
SUBJECT: Diane J. AGE: twenty
INTERVIEW ONE
Diane was just a fun loving teen at one time in her life, and that was what she had come to tell me all about. Her story is filled with throbbing and bulging and surging and dribbling and oozing. Once that girl got started, there just was no stopping her.
I started with the captain of the football tea, the quarterback. I always have had an instinct for who the front man was in any situation.
I was new to Lockwood Gorge. I moved there with my parents when I was in the middle of high school. I hadn't wanted to move, because I had had a pretty good setup at my old school.
However, there was no dissuading Mom and Dad, who were determined to have that house in the country, and now that they could afford it, they went ahead with it.
It didn't matter that they were uprooting me. "Don't worry, dear," my father said, "you'll find that Lockwood Gorge is a much healthier atmosphere for you."
"But I'm not interested in a healthy atmosphere," I said. "I'm interested in boys." I shouldn't have said that, because that was exactly why they wanted me out in the country.
I had made a lot of trouble for them in the city. I had gotten myself knocked up. They were pretty unhappy about that, but then that was too bad.
I expected them to be unhappy about it, but I did not expect them to move all the way out into the middle of nowhere, which is what they did.
I did not expect that they would plant me in the middle of this school where the most fun anyone ever had was going out to the one not dog. stand in the entire county and ordering milk shakes.
That was what happened to me, however. That was what happened, and I was none too pleased about it. Before we moved out to Lockwood Gorge, and I got all messed up with the football captain, and worked my way through the team, I had to say good bye to my man.
My man's name was Derek, and he was a big black dude who lived with his mother and his two brothers and three sisters on Jerome Avenue in the Bronx.
At nighttime he was a D.J. at Disco Fever, a discotheque in the Bronx, where they have all these guys who rap. It's really a groovy place.
Derek and I were perfect for one another, and I don't think that I will ever forgive my parents for tearing us apart, even though I did get the football captain as compensation.
He was good in the hay, but he was nothing compared to Derek, really. Nobody was anything to Derek, who had a long, long uncut schlong, big, heavy balls, and a technique to match. God was he the absolute best in the world.
I met him in the park one afternoon, when he was roller skating, and I was roller skating too. I'm not such a hot roller skater, but he's pretty agile.
I was all decked out for the performance. I had just gotten my skates together the week before, and I had gotten my gear all set.
I never had roller skated on my own skates, before, always having rented them in the past, and so I was really very hot to get out there and bum up the pavement with my skates.
They were red, and they were made of leather. They came up to my mid calves, and they had little wings that flew off of them in all directions.
These little wings were white, and they were thick and fluffy and made of a cloth material and tufted and stuffed. It really was a great looking pair of skates.
I wore leg warmers with the skates, high thick woolen warmers that I rolled down and folded over my shapely calves, hairless and smooth and silky, and over the tops of my skates.
The leg warmers were grey. Besides them, my legs were bare, all the way from my calves up to the insides of my thighs, where my very brief briefs began.
You could very nearly see the pubic hair hanging out from under those briefs, except that I had shaved my hair very carefully so as not to let it show.
However, if you looked hard enough, you could imagine that you saw the pubic hair. That was the exciting thing about it, and I knew it was a turn on.
There were these inches of white, smooth flesh right below the shorts, and they showed and ran with little beads of sweat when I really got skating.
The shorts clung to me like second skin, and they were red like the skates and of this shiny satiny material. They really held onto me.
They clung to the outer lips of my cunt, and they clung to my buttocks, and they clung around my waist, and they almost looked like just my skin, only sprayed red.
That was all I had on around my waist, and then above that I was wearing a tube top, which held onto my breasts and held them very snugly.
The tube top really fit very tight, and if you looked over you could see my cleavage. My cleavage was really showing, and really up front.
I have really ample breasts and big pointed red nipples, and the nipples were showing against the material of the stretch top.
It was not a hot day, but I did work up a bit of a sweat when I started rolling, and so of course my long, straight blonde hair got really sweaty and streaky.
I had little droplets of sweat all over me, and I was really excited about the skating, because they were my skates. There's something about a thing when the equipment you're using is your own.
I was quite excited, and I rolled on out of my parents' apartment building on East 72nd Street, and headed for the Park, where, behind the Sheep Meadow, at about 66th Street, is the place where everybody really gets down and roller skates.
It happens all summer long. There are people there all the time, and at the height of the summer there are people there nearly from dawn until dark, blaring their radios and roller skating their asses off. It's really a groove.
So that was where I headed, and I was already hot and excited between my legs. Something about the idea of displaying myself really turns me one, and I was terribly excited. I was afraid that I was going to lose control of myself, but once I got there and started skating, I calmed down. It was so good just to do it.
I was really pretty lost in my own thoughts. I was just skating around and around and around, having a really terrific time, all around this little circle of asphalt.
There were some other people skating, but I didn't notice them, and there was a bit of a crowd standing around watching, as there always is.
I liked the crowd. It was fun to think that I was performing for a crowd. It really was a turn on, and I was pretty excited about that. I didn't exactly perform for anyone other than for myself, but I was aware of the crowd being there, and with the crowd there it seemed okay to show off a little.
I mean, you feel kind of silly doing turns and things like that on your own, unless you're a professional skater or something like that, and you have to practice every day.
But with all of those people there, there was a reason for me to do what I wanted to do, and a reason for me to show off. I was pretty turned on, and though I was not paying attention to anyone but to myself, I do think that I was having, a good time of it, really putting on a show.
That was when Derek took note of me. He said that he nearly creamed in his pants the first time he got a look at me, that he wanted to eat me out on the spot.
Derek was a looker. I had not notice anyone else on the asphalt, but when I pulled up next to a man who was holding a beer, and I was really thirsty, I asked him for a sip. It wasn't a pass or anything, but I couldn't help but notice this stud.
He was tall-very tall. Tall and slim as a bean pole with almost no hips at all. He was wearing jeans and a t shirt, and there was a bulge in the front of his pants that you could have bumped into if you passed him on a crowded street.
He had a beautiful high forehead, and high, wide cheekbones, long arms, and long, long legs.
He also had a smile that really did me in.
"Hey, baby," he said to me, "you do an alright turn out there on the blacktop." He smiled and handed me his beer. I tried to behave in as nonchalant a fashion as possible.
"Thanks," I said, sipping on his beer. "I really think that I'm rather clumsy, though, if you want to know the truth. I just move like I feel."
"If that's the way you move, baby, I sure would like to know a little bit more about the way that you feel." He shined his infectious grin at me.
I smiled back. I was grooving on it. It was a warm day and I was hot and the beer was good. I think it started going to my head, a little.
"I didn't notice you moving out there on the blacktop," I said to him. I gave him an appraising glance, up and down. "I bet that's a sight."
"Baby," he said, "you ain't seen nothing yet." He handed the beer to me, and then he floated out onto the blacktop, and did one hell of a turn.
He was graceful. He could move in any direction you can name, and he could do it with more grace and speed and panache than any ten men or women out there.
I was transfixed. I think that I fell a little bit in love with him right then and there, and I knew that I was going to let him fuck my eyes out.
If he wanted to do that, I was going to let him, because of the way that he moved. He seduced me with his movements, and I was really very turned on. I was really excited.
I could hardly breathe but for my excitement, and I forgot all about the can of beer, until he came back over to me, and pulled it out of my hand.
"Don't let that get warm," he said, smiling at me, and then pulling a swig from the beer. I giggled and said, "It's not the only thing that's getting warm."
He scrunched up his face, and then he looked all around himself, as if he was making sure that no one was looking, and then, very carefully and casually, but meaningfully, he put one hand up against the crotch of my shorts.
"Whoo, wheee!" he whistled. "Seems near to boiling down there." He smiled again, and the only thing that I could do was laugh.
I don't think that I would have taken that from just anyone, but I could take it from him. He was really one hell of a sexy guy, and I really wanted him.
I looked over at his crotch, and I said, "I think that it's a hot front that's moving in your direction." He leaned down and rearranged himself, smiling.
It was sexy the way that he did that, and it really turned me on. I really wanted to fuck him very badly. I was really terribly excited, and I was relieved that he suggest we go somewhere.
That was when he said, "So what is it that you do for a good time?" It was a really old line, but he said it with the sort of smile that really made me like him.
I said, "Well, I like to roller skate, most of all, but I do other things, too. I live over on the East Side, and I go to school on the West Side. What do you do for fun?"
"I fuck," he said. Just like that. You have to admire a guy who gets it right out in the open like that, and I was really admiring him.
I thought that he was really admirable. I thought that he was the sexiest, and the hottest and the best looking guy that I had ever seen.
I said, "So why don't the two of us go somewhere, and have some fun together right this minute?" I didn't see any reason to stall.
He looked at me, and he said, "Now that's the kind of attitude I like." He grabbed my hand, and the two of us roller skated off together.
It was really romantic. It was neato, and romantic, that way, and the place that he took me to was pretty groovy. He wanted to go out into the ramble.
That's a place in Central Park where a lot of homosexual men go, and they get it on there. It had never occurred to me that heterosexuals would go there, too.
However, I was about to learn otherwise. He really rolled me in the ramble. Wow was it hot and good and wet and apocalyptic. Oh boy was it ever.
We got there, and he led me to this secluded place in the woods. I wanted to take off my roller skates, but he said no. He said that he had always fantasized about balling a white bitch in the Park when she was wearing nothing but her roller skates.
Well, I could appreciate that, but it was sort of hard to walk, and so he took his roller skates off, and he carried me. He carried me into the bushes, and then he lay down in the grass with me, and we embraced. I opened my mouth to take his teeth and lips and tongue.
His long wet slippery tongue surged forward against my lips as a tidal wave crashes up against a piling. I could feel him coming into my mouth, and there was nothing that I could do to keep him away. He was determined to get his tongue into my mouth.
His mission was successful. He got his tongue all the way into my mouth, and he moved it around inside of my mouth, licking and sucking at the insides of my cheeks.
I could feel my nipples burning, and I could feel a hot, excited sensation between my legs. I really wanted him very badly. I was terribly excited.
He put his hand down between my legs, and he moved it around under the waistline of my shorts. I could feel his cool hand against my hot flesh.
That was an exciting feeling. I liked the feeling of his hand against my stomach and against my thighs, and all against my groin .
His hand was big and it was open and his palm was smooth, and he stroked my outer cunt lips, underneath the shield of my shorts.
"Oh," I said, "oh, yes, baby. Take them off." I wanted my naked flesh to be out in the open. I wanted to feel the afternoon breeze against the lips of my cunt as he stroked and caressed them.
Carefully, he slid the shorts down to my knees, and then to my ankles, and then all the way off of me, and he set them aside, and began to rub and stroke and caress me.
He moaned low in the back of his throat, and moved his hands over and over my buttocks, and over my thighs, and around my inner lips.
He moved slowly and carefully. He was not in any hurry. He stroked every inch of my flesh, caressing my skin, until I was covered over with goose bumps.
It was terribly exciting, and I was very hot and anxious to have him inside of me, but he was determined to take his time. He lowered his mouth to my inner thighs, and licked them.
His mouth was long and pink and slithery, and he moved it over and over the length of my inner thighs, lapping at them, and leaving a trail of saliva behind.
My inner thighs, soft, white, and supple, were covered with his saliva. Then he nipped at them, gathering little folds of flesh gently in his teeth, and biting down.
It was exquisite. The juices were flowing down between my legs, and my cunt was all lubricated and warm and ready for penetration. His hands moved over and over my buttocks, and his tongue moved around my inner thighs.
I was terribly excited. I think that I was making a great deal of noise, but I really didn't care. I was on fire, and desperate to take him inside of me.
Then he moved his mouth to my cunt lips, and when he licked them I thought that I would have to shout. I could feel all of the nerve endings in my outer lips tingling and quivering in response to his licking.
He licked my outer lips, and I spread my legs wider. My clit was fully engorged, and I wanted him to get his lips around that. I wanted him to get his lips over my inner lips, and to get his cock up into my hole. I was moaning and shaking.
He slid his lips down over the head of my clit, and tortured it with his tongue, very slowly, and teasingly. I moved my hips up and down, and clenched my fists.
He slid a finger into my hole. Slowly he slid it into me, fairly deeply. I could feel my insides responding with pleasure to his exploratory thrust.
His lips moved to my inner lips, and he took them in his mouth, one at a time, and sucked on them, covering them with his warm saliva.
I wanted him now. I was ready. I could hardly have waited another second to take him inside of me. I was dying to see his cock.
The whole time, I was wondering what his cock looked like, and I think that that was what contributed a great deal to my excitement.
I could see the bulge in his jeans, and I could just imagine what it was that was lurking underneath, what it was that he had packed away.
I yearned to look at it and to stroke it and to hold his balls in my hands and weigh them. Yet he was almost shy about it, as if he really didn't want me to see him.
But I had to see him. "Let me see you," I said, pulling at the snaps on the front of his jeans. He pulled away, a little surprised, but he didn't interfere. The two of us watched as I undid his zipper and slid his jeans down to his ankles, and then all the way off.
He sat only in his jockey shorts, and I thought that that was very sexy and very exciting. His black skin shone up against the white of the jockey shorts.
That really turned me on. Also, I could see the bulge in his shorts, and I knew that he really was hot. There was a damp spot at the front of his jockey shorts, and I knew that he was lubricated and ready. I slid the jockey shorts off him, and sighed.
"Oh," I said, "that's beautiful." He really had a lovely cock. It was very long, and rather thick, and he had huge, heavy balls.
It was uncut, and that made it look even longer and thicker, and it was achingly erect. I ran my fingers over it, up the underside of it, and over the glans.
He winced, and shivered. "OH, baby," he said. He seemed very pleased that I was so interested in his cock, which was really very big and very exciting.
I moved down to take his balls in my mouth, and just suck on them for a few moments. He rested there and stroked my hair. Then I licked his glans, and leaned back.
"Enter me," I said, wanting him inside of me as urgently as I have ever wanted anything in my life. I spread my legs very wide, and leaned back, to let him in.
He leaned forward, and slid his cock into my vagina, moving all the way into me. When I knew that he was in as far as he could go, I put my arms around him, and held on.
We clung together very tightly, and panted, as he moved his hips up and down and up and down, and drove his cock further and further into me.
I moved my hips with his, thrusting up at him as he came down into me, and moving back away. I was terribly excited, and I could feel all of the muscles inside of me tensing.
In and out of me he thrust, and we pounded together there on the dirt, sweating and grunting and fucking and being fucked. It went on for hours, it seemed.
However, finally it came to an end, and he emptied himself into me in three long slow shots, and I bounced up and down on the ground, still coming long after he was finished.
INTERVIEW TWO
Diane's second interview was even more exciting than the first. I hardly know how to comment upon it, other than to say, read on!
So it was very good with Derek, and I really was in love with him. And after all, he wasn't the one with whom I had gotten knocked up.
That was someone else entirely. And yet when my parents found out about Derek, they were really freaked. I think they would rather that I had gotten knocked up again with a nice white boy than to be dating a black man.
That really upset me, but there was nothing that I could do about it, and when they decided to move way out into the country, well, there was nothing that I could do about that, either. I was royally screwed, any way I looked at it.
So I decided that the only thing to do was to prove to them that moving out to the middle of nowhere was no safer a thing for them to'have done than stay in the city.
I decided that I was going to have every boy in the school, until I had such a name for myself as a sexually loose girl, that the news would have to get back to my parents.
Lockwood Gorge was going to be very, very easy. There was not a boy there who looked to me as if he had had any substantial kind of experience.
I was probably the only girl in the school who really knew how to give a blow job. I was probably one of the few who was not a virgin.
They were all a little bit in awe of me from the very first, because I was from the city, and I didn't hesitate to let any of them know it. I made sure they understood the difference between me and them. I think that most of the boys were really excited that I was from the city, and that most of the girls were really upset about it.
The boys liked me because I was exotic and different, and the girls hated me because the boys liked me. But I was not interested in having girlfriends. I was interested in sucking cock.
So I thought that I might as well go right to the top and start out with the captain of the football team. It seemed an easily enough maneuvered thing.
He was really the best choice because it was football season right at the beginning of the year and they had some kind of really hot shit football team at that high school, and they really all looked up to the football captain.
His name was Ax. I'm not kidding. I could hardly imagine anything as Andy Hardy as that, but it was true. He was the football captain, and his name was Ax.
He was a big lug of a chunky guy, with really heavy muscles, as football players sometimes have. He had really broad shoulders and really thick arms and legs.
He walked like he was carrying a basketball between his legs all the time, and he talked like he had a basketball for brains. But I didn't care.
I didn't care what he had up top. I only to blow him, and I would have blown him if he had been hung like a Liliputian.
I could not have cared less one way or the other. The point was to get myself some public exposure, and I could tell from the way that the guys on the football team acted that if I blew Ax the entire male half of the student body would know within hours, and the female half would know within days. So that was the only thing to do, blow him.
"Hi, there," I said to him, one day, as he was jogging up from the filed after practice. "I've been watching you practice, and I have to say that you have some nice action out there oh the field. You really can move."
"Oh, yeah?" he said. I could tell that he was not one for subtleties of any kind. I was going to have to get straight to the point.
"I bet you carry around a great deal of ammunition with you, huh?" I looked straight down at his crotch, making it perfectly clear what I meant.
"Aw, no," he said, "it looks that way on account of all the padding." He just said that, and he acted as if the case were closed.
I took desperate measure. "I sure would like to be around for the unveiling," I said. "I bet when you unpad yourself, you're still a sight bigger and juicier than all of the other boys on the team. Huh?" I licked my lips, salaciously.
He turned about eighteen shades of red, when he finally gleaned my meaning. I thought that perhaps a Mack truck would have caught on a little more quickly.
"Oh," he said, grunting. "Uh, yeah, well, you know, I don't, uh, like go around measuring, or anything like that. You know? I mean, it's just guys."
"Oooh," I said, "give me a yardstick and I'll measure the entire team. Starting of course with you." I moved up close to him and put one hand up against his crotch.
It felt really hard, and I guessed that there really was a lot of padding there, but that didn't matter. I pressed hard against him, and sighed.
"Oh," he said, "uh, I gotta, you know, get on into the locker room and shower off. Then I got to get to my bus, or I'll miss it."
"Is there room for more than one in that shower?" I said. "I'm feeling a little damp and sweaty myself. I could do with some cleaning off."
He looked at me as if he hadn't quite decided that I existed. Then he started thinking. This was difficult for him, as it was a process with which he was largely unfamiliar.
Finally, he had a reasonable suggestion to offer. "Uh," he said, "I guess that maybe we could use the coach's private shower. He don't never use it. I mean, if that's what you mean. I mean, if I get your meaning. I mean-"
"You mean just what I mean," I said, smiling at him, and taking his hand. We headed towards the building, and I looked at him sideways, wondering just how big he really was.
If he was big enough, I might want to let him eat me out, but otherwise I thought that that was as far as I was going to go for the time being.
I was still sort of carrying a torch for Dereck, and I thought that the only way to preserve what we had was to refuse to take anyone inside of me.
The only person I was ever going to take inside of me was Dereck, but I wasn't above a blow job here and there, and that sort of thing.
I would do anything else they wanted. Finger fuck them up the ass. Suck them off. Whip them, even, though I doubted that Ax had enough imagination for that kind of thing.
But they were all a pretty simple group, as I would find out eventually, and what they really wanted was to get their cocks sucked.
That was really what they wanted, and if you did that for them, they would be your pals for life. They would be your friends and protectors.
They all acted as if I was some kind of odd ball for wanting to suck their cocks, and I supposed that they just never got anything from the girls around there.
They just seemed so grateful to me, that I had to conclude that they weren't getting anything at all from any of the girls around there.
Apparently Ax was not getting anything at ah. I thought that that was hard to believe, but from the way that he acted and everything, I had to assume that he was a virgin.
Anyway there was this private shower that the coach used, to which Ax, as captain of the team, along among the players on the team, had access.
He said that there wasn't any chance that the coach would use it, because he never did, and Ax used it mostly just to beat off, anyway.
He said that it would be okay for the two of us to go in there, and if he locked the door no one would come in and bother him, because it was understood that that shower was reserved for him, and no one ever bothered him in there. conclusion
Space considerations preclude a complete telling of this tale, but you'll be glad to know that Diane managed to get into the shower with Al and the girl was determined to give the school's biggest hero a good time. But he was shy and needed to be coaxed along ever so gently, something Diane was more than willing to accomplish. In fact, she was typical of certain women who stoop to activities that they consider to be beneath them in order to gain revenge, then discover that they enjoy themselves in the process. Some women react with confusion over these conflicting impulses, but not Diane. She embraced her newly discovered sensations with reckless abandon. Truly a delightful nymphette.
