As soon as I saw Beth standing by my car, I knew I was going to get laid. And the closer I got, the gladder I was.
I felt pretty good that night. We'd won the football game against Sandhurst College by a score of 21-6 and clinched a place in one of the Bowl games. The weather, too, was invigorating. The wind was very crisp and dry, but not cold enough to freeze the water that was left in my hair from my post-game shower. The mud and the sweat of the game were, by then, well on their way to the river, and I could see that I was on my way to an orgasm or two. I don't know how I knew. I could just tell.
To tell the truth, I hadn't expected to see her standing there. Often chicks caught me outside the locker room after the games and begged me to touch their hot little bodies, which I made it a point to do. This was the first time one had ever waited by my car, away from the rest of the action. As a rule, the girls were students from my own school or one of the others in town, with an occasional high-school bubble-gummer thrown in as a tidbit. I got. lots of pussy by simply standing still, but I tried not to get a swelled head about it. That particular class of fuck-for-glory chicks wanted only my name, not my cock; the former being, in my case, Rodney Linker, quarterback.
I could tell immediately from the uniform she wore that the girl was from the Jason Maxwell School for Girls. The Maxwell girls didn't get to town very often. It was rare to see a group of them putzing around the town square or ogling the "latest fashions" at Wards, like most girls. They did, I remembered, come in groups for football games sometimes. The Maxwell school was a huge, Victorian-looking building that sat on the top of a brambly, thorny knoll. Only a true masochist would ever attempt to scale the slopes. It was like a prison. The only way to get to the school was on the road that wound up the west side of the hill. Between the bottom of the hill and the school building, though, the road was blocked with at least ten gates and guard posts, the gates electrified and about fifteen feet high with spikes on top of the bars, and the entire hill was surrounded at the bottom with a fence of the same size and characteristics. It was way out in the country on a very secluded road. All in all, the Maxwell school was a virtually impenetrable fortress.
I don't know if this was done as much to keep the horny local underclassmen out as it was to keep the girls in. I'd heard from several people that the girls who went to the mysterious Maxwell school had all been in trouble, but had seen the error of their ways. I guess the fence prevented relapses. From the looks that the girls gave the boys on those rare occasions that they were out, I don't trunk that there was an ounce of repentance among the lot of them. They came into town for football games a lot, though, and I never saw one that looked bad at all-physically, anyway.
"Hello," I said, as soon as I got close enough.
"Hello," she replied, her voice clear and low. I walked right up until I was almost touching her and smiled-leered, really-and she just smiled back. The girl had lots of guts.
"Pleased to meet you," she said at last, smiling even more broadly and extending her hand. "My name is Beth. Beth Annis."
I took the hand; it was cool and dry. "Glad to make your acquaintance," I rejoined. "My name is..."
"I know your name," she interrupted. "Rodney Linker." She paused. "Can I call you Rod?"
I wanted to tell her that she could not only call me Rod, she could play with my rod as well, but I kept a civil tongue in my head somehow. "Sure," I said.
"I've been wanting to meet you," she explained. I looked down at her, and I'll be damned if she wasn't leering, too, and looking straight at my crotch. Jesus, I thought, I was afraid that I was going to get raped. No wonder they had to keep the girls locked up.
"How did you get out of school?" I asked conversationally. She tore her eyes off my pecker for a second, which was just as well, because I was starting to get a hard-on.
"I ditched the bus," she said naughtily.
"Won't you get in trouble?"
"Lots," she assured me. "But I don't care."
"Would you like a ride somewhere?" I offered. "Back to the school or something?"
"Sure," she said flippantly.
I was kind of floundering around for something to say, which was unusual for me. I don't know, maybe I'm a little inhibited or something, but I just couldn't bring myself to say "Hot shit, let's go rub pee-pee's" just like that. I mean, I'd only known her for about a minute. There was no doubt that she wanted a ride less than a riding. I'd never met a chick before with such a singleness of purpose. She was going to get what she wanted, though, that much I knew.
She was a good-looking little cunt. She had smooth, white skin and dark brown hair, almost black, that spilled over her shoulders and hung down her back. I really get off on hair, anyway, and hers was very thick and very close and clean. It was natural-looking, too. I mean, it didn't look like she'd rolled it and fucked with it, which they probably didn't allow at Maxwell anyway. She was wearing a very simple white blouse and a purple blazer with a patch embroidered over Beth's left tit. Matching that was a purple-plaid kilt-like skirt, which was only as low as it safely could have been, and fastened in front with a big safety pin. She wore white knee-socks and saddle-oxfords and looked like everybody's vision of The All-American Virgin. If she was, I snickered to myself, she wouldn't be soon. Her tits were small and hard-looking and her legs were only so-so. Her ass I couldn't see. It dawned on me that she was just a kid, really, and yet she was sexy and willing. Ever wanted to rape a kid?
It seemed like it took me forever to find my car keys and open up the passenger's door of my new El Camino, which is a very sleek half-truck, half car made by Chevrolet. I've owned about thirty trucks in my life, but the El Camino had the best of everything-vinyl, power, airthe works. And, of course, a pickup bed, for pickups.
I looked down as she got in. She sat her ass on the seat first, then swung her legs in one at a time, letting me look long and hard under her kilt. I observed that the skin of her thighs was very white, as was all her flesh, but not quite as white as her panties. She left her legs spread their widest for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, so that I could see the cunt-hair spilling down her inner thighs, probably an inch into each leg. She pretended not to notice what she was doing. It probably felt good to get some air on her pussy. I could see that the double crotch was dripping wet and sticking in the groove. She pretended not to notice what either of us had done, for that matter-her giving me a beaver-shot, or my watching. I could see that I was going to enjoy fucking her. She was scrubbed and clean and virginal, which I liked, but at the same time she looked not only like an experienced fuck, but a wild fuck. It was clear that she was ready to go. Things were moving so quickly that it almost made me dizzy.
"Where to?" I asked, hopping behind the wheel.
"Wherever the nearest motel is, Rod," she said simply. I started the engine and looked over at her. Her gaze was steady, she seemed sure of herself. I faced forward again. I admit that I was hard up for a quick comeback to that line, save for putting the truck in gear and doing what she said. We hit the highway like Sterling Moss, which Beth apparently found exciting. I watched her off and on during our trip to Ye Olde No-Tell Motel, of which I was a steady customer, and saw her squirming around on the seat, clamping her legs together and spreading them. She gasped a couple of tunes, too, and when I glanced over she grinned back sheepishly, like she'd just come. I don't think we said a word all the way over there. I made the trip in record time, though, since watching her squirm her hot pussy all the way to climax (twice, no less) had really turned me on. I was about to go off in my pants, too.
"I'll sign in for you," said the night clerk as I started in the motel office door. He was a wizened old man with an all-knowing grin. "Here's the key." He hurled the key and ring to Cabin #4 at me. I knew it well; it had once been a bridal suite and had an erotic, extra-big bathtub. I never had to enter the office. "Don't leave no ring," he said, beaming conspiratorially.
"You know that I never .leave a ring," I punned. "Thanks." I walked out.
"You better pay me tomorrow..." the clerk called after me. There were probably some expletives in his comment, but the closing, door cut them short.
Beth was out of the car and waiting. "All set?" she asked. She patently was.
I put my arm around her, a hand on her ass. "You bet," I said. It wasn't a bad ass at all-very round and soft. I could feel heat against my palm.
"Let's go," she said, her voice taut.
"You don't need to tell me."
I'm no nostalgia freak, but as soon as we entered Cabin #4 I felt at home. I'd fucked a lot of girls there. The bed didn't vibrate, but it was such a firm mattress that it was still a groove. It was like fucking on the floor, which was a trait that I admired. On some motel beds, a guy's got to have a foot-long cock just to compensate for the sag in the springs.
I closed the door and carefully locked it against burglars and pranksters. When I turned around, I saw that Beth already had most of her clothes off. She didn't lose any time, I thought, which reminded me that she'd already creamed her pants at least twice. For all her passion, she arranged the garments neatly on the chair by the door. I figured that she wanted to look straight to get back into the school. I didn't know how she was going to pull it off, as tight as security was said to be.
I started in on my own buttons. "How do you figure to get back into the school?" I asked her. "There are an awful lot of guards and doors to get by." I was really curious.
"Oh, they already know I'm gone," she explained. "I'll tell them that I just missed my bus, and started walking home. It's a long walk, so the timing will be right. The guard will let me in, if I bribe him." She grinned naughtily.
I was having trouble with my belt-buckle. "Bribe him?" I asked. "How?" I could tell by the glint in Beth's eyes that it had something to do with sex, but then, everything connected with her seemed to as well.
"I pull my dress up for him," she answered matter-of-factly, but still grinning, adding, "He never has me take my pants off, though."
"Does he ever touch you?"
"No. One time he had me pull my dress down again, then squat and wet my pants for him." I could see the disdain on her lips. "He's pretty sick, but that's the name of the game."
"His old lady never gives him any."
"She must not," Beth agreed. "He has to do it all himself."
"How do you mean?" Her story sounded more like a wet dream than reality.
She made an "okay" with her right hand and waved It forward and back in front of her genitals. "He jacks off."
"In the open?! " Jesus Christ! And she looked like such a virgin. She must have been brought up on depravityweaned on it.
Beth undressed well. She took her socks and shoes off first, then her jacket, then her skirt, then the blouse. When she got down to her bra and panties she put her hands behind her head, posing for me. "You can finish," she said. My own clothes were lying in a heap on the floor, as opposed to being neatly folded, but I was ready, too. I took the few steps that separated us and wrapped my arms around her. I held her eyes as I slipped the bra off of her without even unfastening the clasp, sliding it down over her arms and waist. Then I grabbed the elastic waistband of her panties and pulled them down, too. Beth had to reach down and unstick the crotch so that they'd drop to the floor like they should, and stepped out of them. She was naked now, and I retraced a step to take it all in.
Beth was physically a kid; there was no doubt about that. Her figure was still filling, though it would be rounded out soon. Her tits were small, with nipples that were only about as big as quarters but very swollen, not to mention raised in the centers. (I had Beth figured to be about 16 or 17.) But she had a lot of hair on her cunt for such a young girl. Her bush spread out wide over her hipbones and down her legs. It was dark and so thick that I couldn't see a bit of skin in its center. Between her legs the hair was wet and shiny. My cock jumped at the revelation of her pussy-there were two of us that were ready to go.
"I hope you won't be disappointed," she smiled without a trace of insecurity. "I don't get a chance to do this very often."
"I won't be," I told her. She grinned and pulled off my shorts.
My cock's only about seven inches long, but I guess that that was good enough for her. She kind of whimpered and rubbed herself between the legs a couple of times. I watched her abdominal muscles ripple as she came for the third time since I'd known her, which wasn't a bad record for 20 minutes.
"Blow me," I commanded. She nodded, almost eagerly. She bent and put her mouth around my prick without so much as a moment's hesitation. Her breath was hot as she exhaled over the shaft of my pecker while sliding it in and out of her mouth. She took as much of it in as she could without gagging. She hadn't mastered all the whores' tricks, but I found her abilities satisfactory. In a few minutes I was about to cum. "Get off," I choked, "or I'll cum in your mouth." But at that warning, instead of stopping, she put two fingers in my ass and started humming "Yankee Doodle".
"Unh!" I grunted, and popped my nuts gloriously against her tonsils. She tried to swallow it all, but a good portion ran out of the corners of her mouth and trickled down her chin. I couldn't remember when I'd cum like that before. And she said that she wasn't good!
But even that didn't stop her. I started to go soft, but she kept on sucking and humming and trying to hit my prostate so that I got hard again in a hurry. Once my cock was more fully erect, she got off and wiped my cum off her face with the back of her arm. "Now it's my turn," she said.
I thought that she wanted me to eat her cunt, which I would have gladly done. Much to my surprise, she dropped down onto all fours and wiggled her ass at me. "Do it to me dog-style," she said, almost moaning. Her voice was almost as dripping as her cunt. "Hurry up. I need a dick so bad it's driving me nuts." I was happy to oblige.
I stood on my knees between her legs and slid my cock into her hot, slippery hole. It went in easy, which surprised me. I still couldn't shake the notion that she was only a once-busted cherry from virginity. I started sliding in and out slowly, playing with her clit with one free hand and reaming around her ass-hole with the other. Her ass-hole was small and pink, surrounded by lots and lots of dark hair. But like I said, I get off on hair.
"Oh, yeah," she sighed. "You know how to do it."
"You bet, Beth," I grunted in return. I knew that ft wouldn't take much to make her cum, but I was worried about controlling myself. I left her butt alone for a moment and used both hands to massage her outer pussy-lips and tickle her inner lips. Then I used both to massage her ass. I pulled the buttocks apart and shoved them together, kneaded them, lightly stroked the delicious crack of her pert ass. She was loving it. I started pumping a little harder.
"That's it... I'm cuming..." she announced, and I could feel the spasms around my cock. Her cunt-juice dripped through my pubic hair and ran in rivulets under my balls, a pleasant liquid caress by itself. I started to slow my strokes a little.
"No!" she fairly screamed, as though she were in actual pain. "I'm still cuming... keep fucking me. Bang me hard ,."
" harder! Ahhhhhhh! Ohhhhhh!" She took one of her own hands and diddled her clit. As I banged her I could feel orgasm after orgasm tightening around my prong.
"That kind of pisses 'me off," I teased, referring to her manual manipulations. "All you had to do was ask."
"Just... shut up... and keep fucking," she panted. Her contractions ceased, but I knew that she was about to start cuming again. I stretched over her, reaching for her little titties. One almost brutal squeeze on the two of them together drove her over the brink. She groaned and squirmed her ass across my stomach, trying to take me deeper inside. I was about to cum myself, but I figured I could hold out one more go-around. I licked the top of my middle finger and rammed it brutally into Beth's ass-hole as far as it would go. I could feel it hit something solid and she gasped with what might have been pain had she not been too delirious to worry about it. I fucked her as brutally with the finger as I did with my cock. I was trying to get her to cum as soon as possible... I couldn't wait very much longer.
Beth was going nuts. Suddenly she took the weight off of her arms completely and transferred it to the top of her head as she grabbed her tits the way I had done. I figured that we ought to have every exit covered, so I punched at her clit with the forefinger of my free hand and we both came like nothing else in the world. Her orgasm forced the ringer out of her ass-hole like a shot and the contractions of her cunt felt like they would cut the circulation to my poor pecker off entirely. I pulled out and collapsed backwards, she forwards, both of us too beat to move.
"That was far-out," Beth managed weakly at last "They'll have my ass at school, but I doubt if anybody is going to have it like you just did." She crawled over to where I was lying, staring at the ceiling, grooving on the waves that were still going through my body. She lay down beside me and cradled my head, then leaned over and kissed me. I didn't really like the idea of eating my own dick, which, in effect, I was, but I responded anyway. Beth was just too irresistible. She was all soft lips and tongue, and before we knew it we were squirming all over each other again, and I was getting another hard-on. I reached down and touched Beth's pussy and felt it come alive under the touch. Her cunt-juice ran down the sluice of two fingers together.
"Let's fuck," I suggested.
"Great, Rod-you're the Sahib," she said, not without eagerness.
"I'm also a very horny Sahib," I told her. She giggled and flip-flopped my cock between two fingers.
"Follow me," I instructed and rose, a little unsteadily, and padded over to the bathroom. Beth watched me for a second then rolled to her feet and did-likewise. It was great to watch her walking around naked. Her small boobs bounced only a little bit, the nipples making a spiral motion with each step. Her luxurious pubic hair made a perceptible rustling as she walked, though she hardly stomped. Her walk was graceful and candid, as if no one was watching her. I could see dimples form alternately on each hip as she strode. A memory of her ass formed in my mind, conjuring an image of it in motion, which completed my hard-on. God, she was so desirable! Beth was certainly not the most beautiful girl I had ever had in Cabin #4, but I think I probably wanted her more than I had most of the harlots that it had been my pleasure to plug during my college years. She had an aura of sexuality that she put out like a smokescreen. It seems kind of funny to say that about someone who could have been my kid sister, but that was the way it was. Another thing, too, was the honest, open way that Beth wanted me between her legs. She didn't want me between her ears, so to speak, the way that most of the broads that I'd fucked had-they wanted me to marry their silly asses or something. I shut the bathroom door with my foot as soon as Beth entered.
"Feel like a shower?" I asked.
Beth smiled. "I feel like a nymphomaniac. Seriously, though, a shower sounds good, Rod. My pussy feels like a glue-pot."
"I believe it." After two orgasms in my pants and two out, my pussy would feel like a glue-pot too-that is, if I had a pussy, which I don't. Beth will vouch. "Your panties are probably so stiff you could wear them as a chastity belt," I suggested.
"That'll be the day." Her smile broadened. Chaste was the last of many adjectives that could be applied to Beth.
One of the greatest things about Cabin #4 was the bathtub. It looked more like a porcelain vat for mixing cement-it was very wide, but not very deep. It was cordoned off with a shower curtain and had a shower head that was actually adjustable-not just "supposed to be." Simply, the tub had been designed to do "double duty"; that is, so that people could ball in it. That was rather what I had in mind.
"A nice clean tub," I suggested, "for two dirty minds."
"Great," Beth said again, enthusiastically. "What a head on those shoulders!" She kissed me quickly, lest I be pissed at her sarcasm. She stalked past me and turned on the shower, adjusting the water until it suited her, then she stepped in and pulled the curtains shut. Immediately her head reappeared, though, and she said "Last one in eats rotten eggs." She stuck out her tongue and vanished once more. That little whore was going to find out who had rotten eggs, I mentally vowed, and stepped into the bath.
I used to jack off in the shower a lot, when I was 12 and 13. It was groovy to have the water beating down on my skin while I was beating on my prick. Also, I got a tongue-lashing one time when I flogged my dong in the more placid bathtub-some of my cum stuck to the tile on the wall, unbeknownst to me, where my old man subsequently found it. In a shower, though, there was never that danger. All the gallons of cum I poured into the river by my own hand could never compare to balling in the shower, I'd found, just like whipping the lizard could never compare to actual fucking.
"You can soap my back," said Beth luxuriously. The water was just a little cool for my tastes, but nice anyway. Beth had stopped the dram, so that the water filled the tub, and the two of us sat down in it. I watched raptly as she lay back and parted her thighs and cleaned her sticky cunt with the washcloth. Beth had a maddeningly exciting way of parading her intimacies in public as if no one was within a country mile.
"That feels good," she confessed. "My bush was starting to feel like a scrub-brush."
Abruptly, Bern began doing what I have often done in the shower: playing with herself. At that I had to draw the line. "Hold the show," I said, feigning anger. "None of that shit." I knelt down beside her-the tub was wide enough for the two of us to lie abreast, and I take up a lot of space. Beth giggled and rolled over onto her side in the water, all shimmering and warm, and put her arms around me. "This was a marvelous idea," she said. She kissed me again, deeply, while she stroked my balls and the base of my cock. Twice that night I'd cum as if I'd never cum again, but already I desperately wanted to fuck her again. We idled around in the water and laughed and got each other squeaky-clean. I really dug washing Beth's tiny titsit seemed almost illegal to be fucking around with such bite-sized boobs. I mean, she wasn't flat-chested, she was just young, though she would never have really big knockers. I liked exploring her, although I'd seen pretty much all of what there was to see in the times we'd fucked before. I soaped her boobs up and started raising them off with my tongue.
"What the hell are you doing?" Beth asked, surprised but grooving on the sucking I was giving her.
"I have blasphemed," I explained. "I'm washing my mouth out with soap."
"Couldn't you just say a few 'Hail Mary's?"
"That's for virgins."
"Oh." The shower actually washed most of the soap off. I was more concerned with lipping her nipple than I was with a few soapsuds. Her hands started playing over my body with urgency that said she was turning on quickly. She squealed a little bit when I undertook to wash her ass because I took a soapy forefinger and reamed her ass-hole with it. Suddenly I wanted to kiss her there. She was all clean-I'd seen to that-I mean, what harm could it do? I'd never put my lips to an ass-hole before.
"Kneel down, Beth," I instructed. "On all fours, the way you were a minute ago."
"What for?"
"You didn't have to ask that last time," I reminded her mysteriously. "If I had to guess, though, I'd say that it had something to do with sex."
She must have really thought that something was afoot, because she made it clear by her hesitance that she was slightly afraid. Christ, I wouldn't have hurt her. I'm a big mother, but I've never hurt anyone intentionally, except on the football field, and that's another story entirely. She looked over her shoulder and waited for me to do whatever, like she really expected me to flog her. It might have insulted me, but I was so fascinated with the idea of anulingus that I wasn't thinking along those lines at all.
I figured I'd kind of sneak it up on her, so I knelt down out of the spraying water and started eating her pussy from behind. The outer cunt-lips were spread apart wide by her stance and I had no trouble getting down to the nitty-clitty.
"That's right," she moaned, a renewed order of cunt-juice dripping into my eyes. "Eat my pussy! Gobble it all up, Rodney! Oh, eat it!" She started bucking like a bronco under my tongue, pressing her oily cunt into my face as hard as she could. Without warning I broke off and started poking at her clit with my fingertips, a veteran trick, while I dived between her buttocks and started to munch.
Beth stopped squirming and looked over her shoulder. I could tell that she was about to say something snotty by the disgusted look on her face, but suddenly the look changed from one of disgust to kinky enjoyment. As well as she could in her position, she shrugged.
"Different strokes for different folks," she said. For my part, I loved eating her ass. The texture was rough where the skin puckered, and dry, not like her smooth, oily puss. How the fuck could Beth have complained anyhow? Once, in a church, I drank some holy water when no one was looking. I got a hot flash through my whole body when I did-the uncertainty of surviving such a forbidden thing. I felt the same way about Beth's poop-chute. I loved both experiences. And, I noted, judging by the pressure of the girl's lower torso against my face, so did she. I shoved two fingers into her hole and moved them in and out rapidly, massaging her clit with my thumb. Her rib cage started heaving, but I didn't want her to cum until I did. I pulled the hand out of her cunt and lowered my face into its place. I said goodbye to her ass with regrets, but I was about to cum, too, and I wanted to go off in Beth's vagina. I wanted to fill her up to the brim with my cream, and by God, I would do just that.
"Ready to rub pee-pee's?" I asked. It was a rhetorical question. Beth was always ready. She nodded.
"Then you get on top," I said. I lay back in the warm water, my head against the back of the tub, while Beth clambered eagerly aboard. The water ran out of her hair over her nipples. The hair was stringy but still nice. Framed by it, her face glowed with moisture, lust, and little-girl eagerness.
"Get ready, Rod," she warned. She lowered herself onto my pecker with excruciating and yet glorious slowness, until she sat on my abdomen. She kept most of the weight on her knees lest she crush my balls like eggs, and began rocking back and forth. Her searing cunt drove me wild with lust for the third time-in only a few strokes I was on the brink of cuming, and there was no way that I could restrain myself.
"Here it goes, baby," I choked. She apparently felt the sperm rising because she commenced pumping harder, driving me dizzyingly high as I popped my nuts, blowing hot cum as high as her Adam's apple. She kept going, though, and I was almost starting to go soft when I felt her pussy tighten against my meat. Her eyes opened wide and her jaw dropped as she rocked precariously on the perch buried seven inches into her body. I reached my arms out and encircled her waist, pulling her forward on top of me. She was as limp as a rag doll. It must have been the shower, I mused-it was doing lots for my afterglow, anyway. I gloried in the feeling of her hard breasts against my chest and looked into her eyes. They seemed dreamy and far off.
"Okay?" I asked softly.
"Okay," she mumbled. I met her lips and kissed her slowly, without urgency. We had all the tune in the world.
I dropped her off several blocks from the school gates. It was around three in the morning, but she assured me that she could get in. She leaned across the seat and pecked my cheek, then got out of the El Camino unassisted.
"Thanks a lot, Rodney," she said, smiling at me. It had taken a while for her strength to come back after that last climax, and she looked a little wobbly yet. "It was memorable," she added. Her hair was still a little bit damp, but a walk in the night air would soon dry it. Until next time..." she waved and shut the door. I watched her start towards the school, but suddenly she stopped dead and, facing away from me, dropped her pants in the middle of the deserted road, squatted down quickly and fingered herself. She wiped the fingers on the lining of her skirt, pulled her panties back up, and walked on. She never once looked back.
I started the engine and popped the truck into gear. Jesus Christ, I thought, what a chick. I wondered how many more there could possibly be like her.
CHAPTER TWO
Ruthie glanced at the dainty gold watch on her slender wrist and noted that she and Cheryl had only five minutes of their allotted bath-tune left. She twisted the bath brush lodged in Cheryl's cunt with a more feverish urgency so that Cheryl, too, might get her rocks off before they had to yield the tiled cubicle to another pair of girls. She was slightly disappointed-she had hoped that after she and Cheryl had had an orgasm apiece that they might try the famous 69 position, a favorite of Ruthie's. There just never seemed to be enough hours in the day, she pouted.
Ruthie knew that she wasn't gay. She, as were most of the girls, was only marking time until she graduated from the Jason Maxwell School for Girls, known "lovingly" to it's "inmates" as "Sing-Sing." There was less humor than venom in the title. In the meantime, there were a limited number of ways for healthy girls to appease their appetites.
Cheryl looked up from her sprawled position on the floor with slightly crossed eyes. Her head tossed back and forth on her neck like a wild animal seeking to escape from confinement. Ruthie reached down and gently, almost lovingly stroked the other girl's pussy as she fucked her with the bath brush. She heard Cheryl gasp.
"I'm cuming...! " she announced in a hoarse whisper.
"Good," Ruthie said soothingly, rather detached from the scene by her annoyance. She left the brush alone, deep in Cheryl's hole. Cheryl tightened her stomach muscles and shot herself from one high to another. She had promised to teach Ruthie the trick, but had never done so. Of course, thought Ruthie, there were almost six months left until the pair became alumni of Maxwell. There was plenty of tune left before they would hit the streets free girls, able to concentrate on "straight" fucking, maybe professionally, in much the same ways (though with more dedication than ever before) that had gotten the pair sent to Maxwell in the first place.
"Pull it out," Cheryl gasped. She was still cuming. Ruthie grasped the bristly end of the brush firmly and drew it slowly out of Cheryl's misshapen hole. She found it difficult to budge in spite of the wetness that had formed a pool on the floor under her mate's crack, as her continuing orgasmic spasms sought to draw the brush deep inside her.
"Unh," Cheryl grunted and loosened her knotted abdomen, letting the sustained climax slip away. She was exhausted, Ruthie could see. Wordlessly, Ruthie crawled up and bent over her friend, then lowered her lips to Cheryl's. The pair met in a satisfied kiss of mutual thanks. Ruthie slipped her tongue into Cheryl's mouth and gently caressed the insides of her lips and the pockets of her cheeks. They held each other's eyes for a long moment. There was love in the gaze-until spring and Graduation.
"Let's get out of here before Miss Rexhaven starts snooping around," Ruthie suggested in a whisper. She was referring, she disgustingly framed the thought, to the tall, stoop-shouldered crone who was head mistress of the school, better known to her charges as DYKE I. It was only a guess, thought Ruthie glumly. If they could get the goods on the old whore, perhaps they could blackmail her...
"Here's your towel," Cheryl said, breaking Ruthie's reverie. She handed Ruthie the coarse, cheap towel. She started to wrap it around herself, but decided against it. If the girls hadn't seen a cunt by now, Ruthie thought, they were long past-due. She looked over at Cheryl, noting that she draped the towel unconcernedly over her arm. She, apparently, had the same thought.
Of the two girls, Cheryl was the older by two years and the more domineering. She had run away from home at age 14 and earned a living soliciting on a busy thoroughfare in Houston before her recapture. She was a broad-beamed, busty girl with wide hips and a proportional ass split by a long crack, her cheeks spread exceptionally far apart. Her long, wavy hair was honey-blonde on her head, slightly darker between her legs and considerably more curly. Her most outstanding feature was her eyes, however. They were common brown but there was a hardness and cynicism in them uncharacteristic of a girl of 18. Ruthie, on the other hand, was short and petite all over. Her figure was willowy. Her breasts were small, rounded swells capped with chocolate and dotted with the freckles that could be found everywhere on her body. Her ass was smooth and round, the cheeks clenched tightly together and sprinkled with her characteristic freckles. Straight brown hair hung without a curl just past her shoulders and was wispy and unruly around her crack. Looking back, she reflected, she'd often felt insecure about her cunt-it's lack of accustomed bushy hair was a source of concern to her. Also, her actual pussy was rather large for a girl of her size and build; it seemed that her legs were placed further apart than most girls' to compensate. Maybe, she thought, she was just being over-sensitive, but no matter what sort of trousers she was wearing it seemed as though she was wearing some garment under them to fill the crotch out, like an artificial penis. Oh, well... as she paused at the bathroom door, her hand on the knob, she smiled. That was the way the old ball game went. She had a wide, bright, almost flawless smile of straightened teeth. Her eyes squinted when she grinned. They were green and placid-looking, not the eyes of a hooker. Her dotted nose, naturally upturned, seemed even more so when she smiled. Her overzealous Catholic parents had committed her to Maxwell after a family crisis over what they regarded as her excessive masturbatory practices... what business of theirs it was in the first place had always eluded her. She snorted. Indiscreet, perhaps, but no more excessive than most teenagers. So she couldn't find a guy, or maybe she was simply scared of guys, thanks to her parents. They sent her to a prison, where she would be sure to learn sex from the most vicious and seamy perspective. They had guaranteed, if nothing else, that there would be plenty of guys for her when she got out.
The door swung open to reveal Pam Doubleday and Diane Pollard, already stripped and ready for their bath-day tryst. "Jesus Christ," said Diane without any real annoyance. "I was about ready to jump the doorknob, you guys were taking so long. Have a heart, will ya? I got rocks, too!" She paused and leered almost comically. "Tel me, Cheryl," she commanded matter-of-factiy. "Was It good?"
"Absolutely out of this world," Cheryl rejoined enthusiastically, if lecherously. She was playing her role in one of Diane's customary impromptu dirty dialogues.
Diane nodded knowingly then stage-whispered to Ruthie, "Why don't you leave this jerk and elope with me?" She indicated Cheryl.
"Meet you by the newel post at 10," Ruthie replied and the four naked girls laughed heartily.
"Seriously, though," said Pam, glancing at Diane. She was obviously telling a story she had heard from her bawdy mate. "This is Rexhaven's bowling night." Ruthie and Cheryl looked at the other two girls with astonishment "How did you find out?" asked Cheryl at last. Such information was hard to come by because it represented a "license to, kill", of sorts.
"I blew the office boy behind the bushes," Diane said. "He happened to mention it. What do you say we meet in the linen storeroom at ll and have a few orgasms? Just the four of us, I swiped a key while Rexhaven was taking a shit."
The girls would never cease to be amazed at Diane's resourcefulness. "You bet!" said Cheryl at length, her voice laced with excitement.
"I'm game," Ruthie added in much the same tone.
Cheryl nodded. "Meet you there at ll," she said, then grinned. Her bawdy sense of humor was notorious. "I haven't had a double date in almost a year," she noted. The two couples laughed again and parted.
Ruthie overheard Diane addressing Pam as the door shut. "Let's try 176 from the Kama Sutra," she suggested. Ruthie wondered what sort of position that was. She made a mental note to ask.
She returned, refreshed from shower and cunnilingus, to the dingy sleeping-hall that reminded her of an old-tune hospital ward. The bedsteads were tarnished, barred brass, the walls devoid of decoration. The light was poor, but even in the daylight that managed, once in a great while, to seep into the room the walls were a nasty, aged shade of beige. In the dun light that came from the cheerless chain-suspended fixtures, they seemed even more oppressive. Eight girls shared the hall, though there was a ninth bed that was frequently occupied by the Gestapo district representative to Maxwell, Miss Rexhaven. She came in late some nights, and some not at all, but without a definite timetable so that the girls stayed more or less in line.
In the year, thereabouts, that most of the girls had been there, they had become divided into couples and doubles, though the girls were mutually friendly and oversexed. There was nothing wrong, they told themselves, with yielding to the needs of the moment-it was a transient circumstance, to be rectified by all their impending graduations the following spring-not all the girls in the school, of course, but all the girls in Ruthie's hall. They lived and loved for that tune.
Ruthie eyed her watch again as she sprawled on the bed to read. It was 10:30. Pam and Diane were really getting a raw deal, having to shower so late, but she wasn't at all sorry to see that there were only 30 minutes to go until Maxwell's version of a swinger's party began. She wondered how Diane had managed to steal a key... Christ, she mentally swore. That wasn't the issue at all. The issue, she thought, parting her legs slightly, was that she needed to get fucked again. She .could feel her cunt throb as she tried to involve herself in her textbook. The damn thing seemed to have a mind of its own, making known its headstrong desires many times before in just that irresistible way, she remembered-at school, at dinner. She had been notorious on "the outside" for constant hurried trips to the ladies' room to touch herself. It ashamed her sometimes to recall how great a percentage of her lifetime had been spent in either sleep or masturbation or both at once. Her life had revolved around sex even before she had been sent to Maxwell. But only sometimes. Other times, like right now, she felt like a million dollars; very healthy. She lay the textbook down on the floor by her bed. None of the other girls, she ascertained, was paying any attention to her. Cheryl was convincingly involved in doing her physics, and the other girls in other types of homework, gossip or sleep. She sighed. Ruthie Jenkins Portnoy rides (herself) again, she thought-there was no chance of concentrating on homework. She rose from her recumbent position atop the bed, turned down the covers and climbed between the sheets.
Ahhhhhhh, she silently moaned as her practiced fingers reached into her crack. She swiped two fingertips through her hot, wet cunt. Her meager cunt-hair was running with her juices. She plunged a finger, of each hand into her vagina and wiggled them in and out of her tight hole. Technically, she thought, she was still a virgin. With her thumbs she kneaded her clit, sending waves of pleasure through her flesh. It was hard as a pebble, as it had been most of Ruthie's pubescent life. Without removing a hand from her cunt, she kneaded the hairy and bare skin around her protuberant cunt, hard, with the balls of her hands. That was so great! she thought blissfully. She might have hesitated to spur herself to a quick climax if she hadn't known that there were plenty more in her bottomless pit where the one she was presently fingering herself would come from, and the one that she had experienced under Cheryl's skilled tongue had come from. She knew that she would add to the spreading wet stain on her bottom sheet, but what the hell did she care? She hadn't asked to be locked up. She gasped suddenly and came, the warm rush of cunt-juice running over her palms and dripping onto the bed. That was about the 15th rush to go onto the bed that week, she recalled. She'd hate to have to do her own laundry.
Removing her hands, she looked at her watch again. 10:47. At the end of the hall she heard the latch snap back on the bathroom door, and moments later Pam and Diane padded nude into the communal bedroom. Diane stopped alongside Ruthie's bed.
"Feel better?" she asked. Ruthie's desperate Portnoy practices amused her. Ruthie wondered how Diane would like to be on the receiving end of the never-ending hornies. Ruthie theorized that Nature had scrambled her hormones a little-there was no reason for Diane to feel superior. Ruthie's problems were a pain in her ass sometimes. Not that she could really get mad at Diane.
"Considerably," she admitted, "but I saved one or two for tonight."
"Good," joked Diane. "I don't think you've ever eaten me before."
"No. I guess I'll lose that virginity tonight."
"You could," Diane speculated, "lose the other, too, if you play your cards right." Ruthie wondered what she meant. Maybe she had invited the office boy to their little get-together? She decided to take the evening as it "came," so refrained from asking.
"I can hardly wait," Ruthie said, looking up from the bed. She was beaming her childishly eager smile.
"You betcha, kid," Diane assured her huskily. In addition to sounding and thinking like Mae West, Ruthie noted, Diane rather looked like her. "Watch for Pam and I to slip down to the other end of the hall as soon as they kill the lights, then you and Cheryl come on down. Try not to make noise, even though everybody in the fucking hall knows what's going on... they should eat their hearts out." Ruthie shot a glance directly across the room to where a naked Pam was telling a similarly-clothed Cheryl the same thing.
She nodded. "We'll see you there." She rolled over on her side and pretended to sleep.
At ll p.m. exactly, all the lights in the hall went out. There was much grunting and groaning among those more concerned with studies than sex, of which there were none consistently, and in the hubbub Ruthie rose to her feet and slipped noiselessly toward the linen room, which was at the end of the sleeping-hall opposite that of the bathroom. In the gloom, she could make out the figures of Cheryl directly in front of her and those of Pam and Diane slipping down the cement floor directly ahead of her. If any of the other girls noticed them, they said nothing.
Ruthie could feel herself getting hot again. She sneaked up behind Cheryl and poked her between the buttocks.
"Goddamn," exclaimed Cheryl in a hoarse whisper. "I just about peed on the floor! Don't pull that shit, Ruthie, or we'll be broadcasting to the rest of the girls.
"Sorry," said Ruthie without a bit of sincerity.
It seemed like miles to the linen room. The two naked girls crept slowly and deliberately down the hallways. At least they were out of the barracks-like sleeping hall and could stand erect. The door to the oversized closet was ajar, Ruthie saw-Pam and Diane had beds that were closer to the proper end of the quarters and had the jump on them.
"Come on," a voice urged from the dark. The huskiness of it identified the speaker as Diane. As soon as Ruthie came within reaching distance of the door, two hands grabbed her budded breasts and pulled her into the open portal. The palms created more friction against her cocoa buttons than was actually necessary, a giveaway of Diane's lust. Looking over, she could see that Pam and Cheryl had cupped each other's cunts in greeting.
"Let's get cracking, girls," urged Diane as master-of-ceremonies. "The old witch'll be home by midnight sharp." She ceased her breast-play at last and reached her arms around Ruthie, stroking her ass. She reached the fingers between Ruthie's buttocks, searching for her tight ass-hole as the girls melted together in a searing soul-kiss. Almost like a guy, the two thought in unison. Ruthie broke the kiss at last and hefted one of Diane's ochre-tipped breasts in her hand as she crouched and took the point in her mouth.
"Ahhhhh!" moaned the subject of the oral exploration. Encouraged, Ruthie plunged two ringers, then three, then four into Diane's yawning crack and began fucking her rapidly. Diane came in a burst of oil as Ruthie climbed easily over the hump autonomously. Looking over, she saw Pam and Cheryl in a 69 position, gobbling for glory.
It was clear that Cheryl was about to cum, as Ruthie knew from experience, and it appeared that Pam was getting close. Arms around each other's waists, Ruthie and Diane waited for the two to finish. Within moments, the cunt-eating pair collapsed in a heap on the floor.
"Bravo!" Diane applauded in a hoarse whisper. "Author! Author!" Cheryl grinned sheepishly. Diane, however, prevented any lag in the activity.
She hurried to what appeared to be a pile of dirty linen, and, reaching beneath it, brought out a crudely made, powerful-looking sex device. Two hand-carved cocks faced each other off at a right angle, base to base, and there were straps made of old brassieres that Ruthie could have-likened to a walk-over seat-good for either side.
She had seen a double-dildo only once before, and it had intrigued her that such mammoth organs would fit a girl's pussy, though she had heard of actual flesh and blood peckers of the same elephantine dimensions. She remembered Diane's remark on the possibility of her losing her physical virginity that night...
"Got any ideas?" asked Diane, looking from one thoughtful face to another. She shrugged when they were silent, then squatted and played with herself briefly, lubing her crack. She took quantities of her over-abundant grease and smeared the wood of one cock with it, then plunged it into herself. Ruthie had to stifle a laugh.
"You look like my Dad on Saturday nights," she teased Diane.
"That's all right, Ruthie," Diane retorted good-naturedly, pointing to her protruding cunt-lips. "You look like my Grandma on Sunday." The four laughed quietly.
"Seriously, though," Diane began, shushing them, "I called you all together to check out my new position."
"What?" asked Cheryl.
"I want to see if my latest contribution to the sexual arts of the world works right before I try to copyright it," Diane explained, grinning. She shook the dildo menacingly at the cluster of girls. "Who wants helm position?"
Ruthie had decided that she didn't want to lose her virginity to a chunk of cellulose, so she remained silent. Cheryl opted for the broom-handle plugging.
"All right," said Diane. She gestured to the broad, deep, high shelves that had formerly held sheets and pillowcases, but which Diane had apparently cleared earlier. There were three of them-one at floor level, one at waist level, and one just slightly below Ruthie's eye level. From the top shelf to the ceiling was approximately 5 feet. "Ruthie, you climb on the top shelf." Ruthie obligingly climbed up and crouched on the plank, waiting. She knew that Diane's sexual inventions were great fun-she felt a trickle of warm oil on the inside of her leg. She was as game for this trick as for any other!
"Okay," Diane continued. "Cheryl, you get onto the second shelf." Diane's shuffling put Cheryl on the proper level with the dildo, and Ruthie began to see the light.
Diane saved her the trouble of figuring it out, though, as she explained. "Pam, you get on the top shelf with Ruthie. Now, Cheryl, put your ass on the edge of the shelf so that your hole is close and you can wrap your legs around my waist. Ruthie, you do-likewise, and I'll eat your puss for you. Sound good?" Ruthie nodded. It did indeed! "Pam, you sit on Ruthie's face, and I know she'll be glad to return my favor. See, we can all get our rocks off together. Got it?" Three horny girls nodded in unison, then scrambled to assume their positions. That done, they waited for Diane to fill in her position. Ruthie heard Cheryl sigh as she took the wooden dick into her cunt, then felt ecstatically Diane's face make contact with her inflamed twat. "Go to it," Diane mumbled through a mouthful of wet pubis. Ruthie hoped that Diane hadn't bitten off more than she could chew, so to speak. She could feel Diane's moans of pleasure through her lips as she imagined the dildo banging around inside her slurping eater. It was going to take only a little while to take Ruthie over the crest, she knew-she had long since lost the patience to restrain herself for any length of tune. She gathered, however, that her notoriously quick climaxes might be an asset in the present case-from the frenzy of Diane's lip service, she feared that the evening's planner might climax and collapse before satisfying her two friends. She imagined that Pam might feel the same way through Ruthie's lips as the girl greedily ate Diane's mate. The cunt-juice was smearing her face and hair, she knew, but it was worth it; having and being had at the same time. With her hand she fucked Pam's ass-hole, netting bucking hips that almost suffocated her.
The climax was fantastic. It was, Ruthie noted, a far cry from the feeble orgasms she was accustomed to attaining by prodding her always-upstanding clit with a fingertip or two. She heard Cheryl cry out first, as she always did when she was about to cum, so she assumed that the ex-hooker arrived first. Soon after, Ruthie felt a rush of cunt-juice from Pam. Two down, two to go, she later remembered thinking, after her senses returned. Before the slippery, hairy pussy was lifted from her face, however, Ruthie went off in a shower of unaccustomed glorious stars. She trembled all over as Diane blew on her cunt. When she came down to earth, she saw Diane sitting on the floor, the dildo still deeply imbedded in her, looking at the world with glazed eyes. They refocused slowly, then she reverently reached down, unfastened the dildo, and slid it out of her gushing hole.
"First thing after graduation," she vowed slowly, "I'm gonna patent that!"
CHAPTER THREE
It really burned me up when I opened my eyes and realized that my delicious dream had been just that: a dream. I stared up at the ceiling and thought through it again. Jonas had been fucking me, I recalled, which was Jonas's usual bag-at my request, of course. He was really pounding me, too; maybe a little more than he usually did, although he was a strong fuck. I could feel his big cock stretching my pussy out, the tip of it juggling my internal organs around. And then I felt him go off inside me. I could imagine what was happening in my holes because I had many times seen him go off outside my crack. Thick jets of sperm were pounding the walls inside. I could actually feel their heat. Suddenly I came, too. Every nerve in my body tingled as my muscles knotted into bowlines. But then I woke up.
What a drag. I really had cum-I could tell by how nasty and sticky my panties were. God, I really missed Jonas. We'd been separated for nearly two weeks while I paid a visit to my grandparents' farm in Georgia. There were about 900 miles between us, and Jonas's cock would, only reach over a foot of that distance, so I had to live without him. I'd been getting myself gummy without fail every night of my visit. I had to wash my underpants every morning, too, before I put them in the clothes hamper in case my grandmother ever examined them. She's a real prude. She and the old man probably fucked just one time in the course of their marriage, and that was to produce my mother. Hell, it was too late for them to learn what they'd missed.
I'd first learned about sex when I was five years old. I was sort of a Tomboy as a kid, and I used to climb trees a lot. Tommy O'Boyle and I used to have a tree-house, and the only way to reach it was to shimmy up the trunk of the tree until we got close enough to grab the stub of a sawed-off branch and could pull ourselves the rest of the way up. One day, I was following Tommy up the tree. He grabbed the branch stub with both hands and started to pull himself up, but then he stopped. He had ahold of the stub with both hands, the fingers intertwined, and suddenly he just hung there. He spread his legs out real wide around the trunk, but they didn't touch, and he started jiggling his ass around in mid-air.
"What's goin' on?" I asked.
"I dunno, Denise," Tommy admitted. "This feels real good, though." He was silent for a moment. "It kinda tingles all over," he explained, "but my tinkle feels best." He held the position a few more moments then abruptly let his legs drop. "It doesn't feel as good now," he said. "It felt super-good right there at the end, and then it quit. Now I feel kinda weak." He climbed the rest of the way to the tree house.
"You try it, now," he called.
I did. I hung from the stub with my legs spread just like Tommy had. I even wiggled my butt around in the air like he had. At first I didn't feel anything. Then suddenly my wee-wee did start to tingle, just the way Tommy said. I moved in and rubbed it against the trunk of the tree, which really made it feel groovy. I didn't know what was happening, but I didn't want to stop. After a few minutes I had my first orgasm, though I didn't know it at the time. I felt very letdown when it was all over-the good feeling just quit, and I felt hot and tired. I, too, climbed the rest of the way to the tree-house.
"Didja do it?" Tommy asked.
"Yeah," I told him.
"Didjur dick get stiff?"
"Tommy," I said pettishly, "I don't have a dick." Tommy was an only child, and probably hadn't learned that there was anything different about boys and girls except that girls wore dresses sometimes and usually had long hair.
"You don't?! " Tommy asked incredulously.
"No," I replied. "Girls don't."
"No foolin'? "
"Honest Injun," I assured him.
"Lemme see." I sighed and obligingly pulled my pants down to show him. He was amazed.
"How about that?" he said thoughtfully.
"Now you've gotta lemme see yours," I ordered.
"Uh-uh."
"Uh huh," I said firmly. I'd seen my brother's pee-pee lots of times, but I wondered if Tommy's looked the same. My brother was two years younger than I was, and his dick was pretty small.
Tommy finally consented to pull down his pants, too, and I looked his pecker over pretty good. It was a lot bigger than my brother Greg's. I grabbed it and started to squeeze on it. It was soft and squishy and kind of gave me
the creeps, but I'd never touched one before and I had to start sometime.
"Hey, cut it out!" said Tommy. I didn't, though, and he didn't try to pull away. It seemed like it was getting bigger, too.
"It's gettin' stiff again," Tommy announced.
So it was. It finally got very hard and stiff with a slight bow in the middle. He was as amazed as I was. Tommy took it from my hand and pulled it back against his stomach. "If you want to, rub that bottom part," he said, indicating the thickened cord that ran along the underside of his dong. "I think that that's what makes it feel good."
I did, feeling very naughty. I used the knuckle of one hand in a sort of "Dutch rub" rapidly up and down the bottom of my playmate's prick. "That's what feels good," he confirmed.
I kept rubbing until I saw it throb a few times and Tommy said "Okay, quit now. It's starting to hurt." He pulled his pants back up, then thought better of it and took them off entirely. "That's real strange," he said. I still had my pants down, though. "Rub mine," I begged, whining. Tommy hesitated, then said "O.K."
He reached a hand out and touched my box, then started to rub it with his knuckles the way I had his. It hurt a little, and the hand kept slipping into the crack and scratching painfully against my pink insides.
"Wait a minute," I said. I pulled up my underpants and motioned for him to continue. The friction of his fingers caused a warm streak to form in the fabric of the double-crotch, then I started to "feel good" again.
"It's doing it," I said with an edge of excitement in my voice. Finally, I exploded inside and the feeling stopped. "Now it quit again," I pouted. "Stop rubbing on it."
Tommy took his hand away, and as he did I noticed that his pecker was hard again, so I rubbed it for him. Then he rubbed me. Then I rubbed him. We must have rubbed each other back and forth at least a dozen times when we heard my mother calling me for dinner, and we climbed down at last. Tommy hung on the stub a last time as we did. "Don't tell your mommy," I beseeched him. I don't think he ever did. They never said anything to me, if so.
* * *
I didn't want to get out of bed just then, so I lay back and stared at the ceiling, fervently wishing for Jonas to materialize and give me a good riding. I wondered if I could possibly die from sheer horniness. I could see my name in the Obituary column: CAYWOOD, Denise. Age: 18. Died unexpectedly of excessive puberty during a protracted visit to the "fresh air" of the country while visiting her grandparents. Survived by her mother, Nancy Caywood, and a younger brother, Gregory.
I idly wondered if the funeral would be held at D. L. Newcomber's Sons, where Jonas worked. I was really in a sick humor. Funerals should be kept as far from the average human train of thought as is conceivably possible. Though, come to think of it, I met Jonas at my Grandfather Caywood's funeral, which was held at Newcomber's. There was no special reason, then-just the reputation of the place.
Jonas was working what is known as "visitation," which means that he serves as a sort of executive doorman, opening the door for people, directing them to the Memorial books, then showing them to the particular chapel or sitting room where their friend or relative is stretched out.
I hadn't wanted to go to the wretched funeral in the first place, but my mother insisted. The first thing that I saw when I walked in the door was Jonas. I could hardly take my eyes off of him. He was smiling solicitously as he pulled the heavy oak door back. "Good evening," he said smoothly. "Can I be of service?"
"Yes," said my mother. "We're the family of Antonio Caywood." She was pretty distraught. My father had died a few years before, but she kept close to his family and was really grieved to see the old guy go out. I hardly knew him-there was no reason for my presence there.
"Mr. Caywood is in Chapel A, ma'am," Jonas explained. "This way, please." He turned quietly on his heel and strode off down the hallway that branched off to his right. His walk was very graceful, measured, and slow-just what one would expect of an undertaker.
He stopped at last by a heavily wood-carved doorway and motioned us in wordlessly. I was last in the line of my mother, Greg, and myself, and Jonas stopped me before I could enter. Much to my surprise, he winked at me. "I get off in ten minutes," he said, very softly as always, then exited in the direction from which we had come.
I was younger then than I am now-I'd had tits for a couple of years, though, and periods for a while longer, and I was used to being propositioned by every gawky walking skin-blemish from one end of town to the other. Un-like most of my other proposals, though, this one had been uttered with such staggering, egotistical self-assurance and honesty that I was fascinated. The guy wasn't beating around the bush or pretending that all he wanted was a nightcap when what he wanted was some "night head." I was no cherry, though, even at that time. After a few minutes of fascination, then, I decided to accept.
The ten minutes that I sat in the chapel conversing without intelligence to my long-lost relatives seemed like an eternity. At the end of that time, I nudged Mother.
"I... I'm going to get some fresh air," I told her. "Do you mind?"
"Of course not, dear," she said and forced a smile. "I understand."
Hah, I thought. If she had, she would have locked me Hp in the closet. She was land of a tight-ass, just like her parents, although we managed to coexist fairly well.
I walked up the hall to the front of the building where Jonas was leaning patiently against the doorjamb. When he saw me, he straightened up, opened the door, and "showed" me out. He followed.
"Hello," he said. "My name is Jonas McReady."
"Hello," I said.
"I know," he continued, "that your name is Caywood. I do not, however, know your first name."
"Denise," I told him.
"Pleased to meet you." He smiled and ducked his head by way of a bow. He led the way along the wide sidewalk that led from the front entrance to entrances on the north side and in the rear. It was dark and spooky outside-the air was chilly and the only light was that that showed through curtained windows. Jonas looked eerie in a pure-black suit with a black tie and shiny black brogans. But there were comforting dimples in his cheeks as he faced forward and smiled quietly to himself. His smile disarmed the effect of his clothes and hair-it, too, was black and long (over his ears, anyway) but neatly razor-cut. He took my arm as we reached the side entrance and mounted the three steps to the door.
He drew a key from his jacket pocket, fitted it in the lock, and swung the door open.
"This wing isn't being used for visitation tonight," he explained. "Business is down a little. No one will see us here."
He was so candid that I could hardly believe it. I decided to return the favor. "Where do you want to do it?" I asked.
"Up here," he replied, pointing to a broad, twisting flight of steps that led upward to the right of the entrance. "That's the mezzanine."
I nodded and followed him up. The light was very dim but I could make out three green-chintz sofas, an assortment of chairs and what looked like the frames of stages on two sides of the room with curtains drawn across them.
"What's behind the curtains?" I asked.
"Caskets," he said simply. "This is like an auto showroom to us. Once a person decides that he wants us to handle his final affairs, he picks out the casket that he wants and the services that go with it. This is where we put on the sales presentation for him."
"That's creepy," I said.
"Not really. It's a business like any other."
"And what you have on your mind is sick," I informed him, feeling not sick but adventurous and-yes, horny.
"Yes," he admitted, "it is." He smiled again, which seemed to be his way of filling the gaps in a conversation. He took a step toward me and I just collapsed against him. Jonas wasn't, and still isn't, very strong physically, but he held me steadily as we tasted each other hungrily, his hands pulling my dress up over my waist. I could hardly breathe as I waited for long, agonizing moments for him to pull my panties down and touch me. I knew that I was getting wet. When he touched my pussy at last, after making me wait for the feel of his hand, I came immediately. I popped off at the first nudge. Jonas placed the flat of his middle finger in the groove of 'my cunt and slipped it up and down so that I was hot again very soon. All the while Jonas was skillfully slipping me the tongue. I felt the palm of his other hand caressing my tits; he very slowly stroked them, squeezed them. He did everything slowly and methodically, probably getting a charge out of making me wait when he could tell that I needed sex so badly.
"Come into my parlor," he quoted, breaking the white-hot kiss at last, "said the spider to the fly." I was so wet from our contact that my juice was running down the side of my leg. I was near to a second climax, but I hoped that this time or next I would have a prick inside me.
Jonas pulled away, letting my dress drop back down, and walked over to the side of one of the stages. He looked back at me once, smiled, then pulled the curtain back.
In the center of the "stage" was a sleek, solid-looking copper casket. The lid was raised on it, showing a lining of rich white satin. Jonas bowed low. "Top of the line," he said. "Nothing but the best for my girl."
"This is disgusting," I said, and at the same time contradicted myself by coming in my drawers. Jesus, I thought... fucking in a coffin! The idea was so revolting it was great!
Jonas beckoned and started in on the buttons of his jacket. He draped it neatly over the arm of the sofa, then carefully removed his socks and shoes, his tie, his shirt, his pants and his skivvies. I hardly moved while he undressed, but froze solid for sure when he unveiled his cock. Jonas straightened, stretched and watched my face. His cock... was a foot long!
"like it?" he asked.
I was speechless. When I recovered my voice, I squeaked "Love it." That was all I was capable of. I didn't know how I was going to contain such a thick, long prick.
"Take your clothes off," he urged. Jonas was a man of few words.
I nodded dumbly and slipped the dress off over my head. I lacked my shoes off and wiggled out of my bra and panties.
"Very nice," Jonas whispered.
I was glad that he was pleased. I'd been told before that I've got a nice body, and I think that I do. My tits are really big, yet they hardly sag at all. In contrast, the nipples are only medium-sized, but they're covered with goose bumps when I get hot, which I was at the tune, as well as jutting out half of an inch from each center. They're a light salmon pink-just a little lighter than my pussy-lips. Which brings to mind another thing: I've got a nice crack. Its small and compact and tight. When I'm standing erect, only my curly bush shows. Someone looking at me couldn't see a bit of my actual organs, like they could on some, maybe even most, girls. The flesh around it is very white, as it is fair all over my body. My hair is reddishbrown on top and perfectly matched by the kinky, fuzzy, covering of my crotch. like I said-it's compact. But when I roll my hips forward and part my legs just a little, which I did for Jonas's benefit, the whole thing opens up, I like a glistening pink flower. It's very shiny and rosy and clean-looking, by which I mean that no one has ever had the slightest qualms about eating it-naturally, I think that's okay. I watched Jonas's face. I could tell that he was really pleased.
I mimicked him. "like it?" I asked.
He smiled his mischievous smile and mimicked me in turn. "Love it," he replied. "Come here."
I did. It was a very strange feeling to look into a casket and see nothing but smooth, soft lining. I had gone to a lot of funerals in my young life, and a casket just didn't look natural without a body in it. Jonas apparently had the same idea. "Get in," he ordered. "It won't hurt you."
I balked, though. "Will the stand hold?" I had my doubts. The casket sat at the normal display height on a frail-looking brass framework.
"Sure it will," Jonas assured me, "and furthermore, it will hold me, too." He leaned over and kissed me. "Have a good trip," he said.
I was nervous about getting into it. I hefted my ass up onto the rim of the box, then sort of rolled in. It was an easy fit. I felt very irreverent, really, but I could feel between my legs that irreverence had nothing to do with dampening sexual appetite. Jonas then clambered in from the end where my feet lay.
"Raise your legs up and out," he instructed. "This is a tight squeeze." I did as I was told, and then Jonas was on top of me.
He plunged a hand into my hole to see if I was ready to receive him. I knew well enough from the liquid feeling that I was ready to receive a cock, but I had my doubts about his. I felt the tip of his big prong nudging my tight opening and I had a moment's panic. Suppose he broke something? He could tell that I was tense.
"Relax," he said soothingly. "You can handle it." I let the tension ease out, and Jonas let his pecker ease in. I felt a slight pain, but after that it was all ecstasy. I noted triumphantly, looking down between my tits, that I had taken him in all the way. He lowered his torso from his hands to his elbows and kissed me gently again. I responded eagerly, but he drew his lips away abruptly. Several more times he teased me until I caught the rhythm and knew where to meet him for fleeting feather-kisses.
He slid his massive pecker part way out, then slid it back in. He was testing me. There was no doubt that I was going to love it, and perhaps he picked up those waves as I felt them, because he broke off our kissing contacts and went down on one of my titties. He hefted it up and took the nipple in his mouth, sucking on it. He started a slow rhythm with his pelvis, stretching me gloriously with every movement. I touched the stars every time he entered me to his full length. I wanted more. I wrapped my legs around him and shoved his hips with my heels on every down-stroke, trying to take an extra eighth or sixteenth of an inch.
"Fuck me harder, Jonas," I urged Mm, nay, begged him, but he wouldn't do it. He was teasing me, making me wait, which seemed to be his stock-in-trade. I felt at once angry and respectful of his prowess... I would certainly never have considered forcing him to either speed up or give up-he might have chosen the latter.
He was caressing the bumpy outer ring of my swollen nipple with the tip of his tongue while he banged me. I could feel wave after hot wave going through my body, and the place that we were fucking had at least a little to do with it-it was off-beat, to say the least. As he tongued me, he was sucking, too-really hard. It almost hurt me, just as his gigantic prick almost did. I was on the thin borderline between the highest heights of sexual delight and true pain, and I was climbing higher and higher-higher than I had ever gone before. Usually, I and my lover had both been spent long before such peaks.
Jonas kept banging me at the same slow pace. I shoved him down hard with my feet, and couldn't restrain my orgasm a second longer. I really lost myself. Jonas put both hands on my shoulders and held me down-he said later that I was bucking around so much he was afraid that we might topple off the stand. When it was over, Jonas was still inside me.
"You're still hard," I said.
"Yes," he affirmed.
"You didn't make it, did you?"
He smiled and shook his head. "I will. We're not finished yet." I nodded and closed my eyes for a few minutes to enjoy the afterglow. When I opened them again, Jonas was still perched over me and his cock was still in my box. He then sighed and drew it out.
"I'm going to corn-hole you," he announced. I was sort of stunned.
"Run that over my face again?"
"I am going to engage in an anal coupling."
"Oh," I said. He was certainly full of surprises! "That's sick." It seemed like I had said that before.
He nodded agreeably. "That's the price you have to pay," he said. He retreated to the far end of our coupling-ground so that I could roll over even as I protested. My cunt would barely hold him-there was no doubt that my ass-hole would tear.
"Hmmmmmmmmm," I heard Jonas mutter thoughtfully. Apparently the problem was occurring to him. I raised my ass up in the air and wiggled it at him, feeling once again slightly excited. I had faith in Jonas. He'd figure a way to make it groovy, even as kinky as his sexual tastes were. He reached under me and massaged the bun of my cunt. It really did feel groovy-even so soon after going off. I started warming up again.
"Relax," he soothed me. "I'm going to go in." Ever so slowly he eased the foot-long dong into my butt hole. It really did hurt at first. While he slid in, though, he kept working my cunt around, and it wasn't long before the stretching of my ass was able to abet the waves of pleasure that he was making with his hand.
After he drove his prick in about halfway, though, he quit moving. I looked over my shoulder and saw that he was working my cunt with his left hand while with his right he was whacking the bottom six inches of his pecker. I felt a little guilty about not being able to let him fuck my ass-hole, but then it wasn't my fault that his cock was twelve inches long! And what he was doing felt good. I wasn't as high as I had been when he was plugging me, but I was moving quickly toward cuming again.
"Okay?" he asked.
"Okay," I murmured. I wiggled my ass some more, which took me close to the brink. "I'm going to cum, Jonas," I informed him. "Are you close?"
"Yes," he said softly. Suddenly he shot his wad deep in my ass. I could feel his cock jerk again and again. He seemed to be filling me up with cum. I felt wonderfully hot in the strangest, darkest places. And when he stuck his finger in my cunt-hole, it was all over for me.
My spasms forced his cock out of me without any of the pain that I had worried about-hi fact, it heightened my climax immensely. I'd been fucked a lot by that year, but never so well, if so strangely. I could see Jonas smile, and I dug him as a person as much as a cock. He rose from his position and hopped back onto the floor, then helped me out and led me to one of the sofas. We sat there, very close, for a long time, letting it all come back to us.
"You'd better get back to the chapel," Jonas suggested at last, after a long silence.
He had a point. "I'd probably better," I admitted. I paused then said "But I don't want to."
"You aren't going to die tomorrow," he reminded me, "We'll do it again. Or something else of the same nature, anyway." His hands were playing over my body, stroking my thighs and my tits. I was getting just the tiniest bit sexed up, so I sighed and stood up. I didn't want to leave horny.
We dressed without speaking, then Jonas walked up and took my arm in the formal way that he had before and escorted me down the stairs to the door.
"I'm going to stay here for a while," he said. "I have some paperwork."
I nodded.
"Thanks a lot," he said. He started to turn away, then pivoted quickly back. "Oh," he said, as he remembered something, "tomorrow night, I get off at 8:00."
He smiled his mysterious smile and turned away down the hall.
* * *
I rolled out of the bed at last and pulled the curtains back. It was about 9:30, and I knew that my grandparents had been up for several hours by then, doing the "chores." Yecch, I thought, what a way to live.
I turned away and started toward the bathroom with thoughts that I might finger-fuck myself-Jesus, did I ever need a prick! I opened the door into the hall very quietly, because my brother Greg sometimes slept later than I did, and I didn't want to wake him. His door was just to my right as I stepped out of mine into the hall, and I saw that it was cracked open the tiniest bit. I wondered if he was still sleeping-Hmmmmmmm... I opened it a little more, peering through the crack, then stopped.
Greg was seated on the edge of his bed, facing me. He had his eyes pointed downward, studying his cock intently as he jacked off. I was amazed-it had been many years since I'd seen his meat, and his cock was nearly as big as Jonas's! I licked my dry lips-I sure did want a big pecker right then. I thought of going in, catching him in the act and letting him fuck me, but I decided that I'd better cool it. I'd tried a lot of kicks, but incest was one that I had long avoided. I thought then that I ought to abandon the scene and go to the John, but I was drawn to the voyeuristic treat of watching my flesh and blood slam the ham.
Greg was breathing heavily-he was probably near aiming. He stropped faster, then suddenly reached a hand underneath himself and put a finger up his ass as he came. I saw a big glob of cum shoot four inches into the air, then drop back onto his fingers. He kept pumping and the gooey cum rolled down the bottom of his peter, over his fingers, and onto the floor. It was a great show, and I was going out of my mind with horniness. It was then that I boldly decided to take advantage of the situation at hand.
I shoved the door open quickly. Greg looked at me with shocked eyes, then rolled them back and muttered "Jesus" under his breath.
"Horny, Greg?" I asked. I tried to keep it matter-of-fact instead of getting sarcastic. Greg knew that I did a lot of fucking and knew the score. He wasn't very bright, but he was a good listener. He covered his deflating cock with the end of the bedsheet.
"You scared the piss out of me," he said. He didn't seem in the least embarrassed. "I thought you were Cramps. He'd'a shit."
"You're right there," I agreed, pushing the door shut and approaching him, "The both of them are pretty straight."
"You said it..." He had more to say, but he broke it off when I pulled my nightgown over my head and dropped it and my sticky panties on the floor.
"What the hell is this?" he demanded in a croak.
"It's a seduction, Greg," I explained to him evenly. "I'm even hornier than you are, and I'm very much in need of servicing."
"You mean... you want me to fuck you?" he asked.
"Yes."
"But... I mean, you're my sister!"
"Astute of you."
"Jesus, sis," he said, gulping, tearing his eyes off my bush at last, glancing at my titties and then meeting my own eyes. "I dunno. It's illegal, unmoral, and dangerous."
"Dangerous?" I demanded.
"Yeah. What if Gramps found out? Or you got pregnant? I mean, fuck my own sister? Jesus..." he said again and shook his head.
"Greg," I pleaded, my pussy getting oiler and hornier by the minute. "In the first place, Granny and Gramps are out in the south forty somewhere, and in the second, I take the pill." I paused. "I know this is strange, but here..." I gestured helplessly. "I'd never think of it at home, of course. But don't you wish that your girlfriend... what's her name?"
"Sandy."
"Don't you wish Sandy were here to give you some pussy so you didn't have to whack off?"
"I dunno," he said stubbornly. "Sandy doesn't give me any pussy."
"Greg," I asked earnestly, "have you ever fucked a girl?"
"No," he admitted.
"Then it's high tune you learned. Let's fuck, then. You can't believe how much I need a prick."
He thought about it for a while. "Okay," he said at length. He pulled the sheet back to reveal his cock dangling off the edge of the bed. "I just came, though, Denise," he pointed out, "I can't get it hard again for a while."
I smiled naughtily. "Just leave that to me," I said. I went to my knees in front of him and took his flaccid prong in my mouth. It felt good on my tongue-hot dogs come, and hot dogs go, but there is nothing like a cock! I sucked on it, blew on it, hummed on it and bounced it from cheek to cheek, which took rather less time than Greg had expected to raise it from nothing to something.
"That's great, sis," he said. I could tell that he was a little embarrassed about being sucked off by his sister, but then what's kin for? "You want me to eat yours?" he asked.
"You bet!" I enthused. I clambered onto the bed and sprawled out so that he could crawl between my thighs.
He went at it with a gusto, slurping ,and licking in all the right places. Admittedly, in a few of the wrong places as well, but he still did well for a fifteen-year-old virgin. I was getting delirious-the big moment had arrived. I motioned him away.
"I'm about to cum," I said. "Give me that big dicks Greg!" I was surprised to hear a reply from outside the door.
"I HEARD THAT!" screamed a voice that could belong to none other than Gramps.
Oh, fuck me, I thought, it's really hit the fan now! The door burst open and he stalked in, followed by my grandmother. There was not an iota of compassion on either one of their Puritan mugs.
I didn't 'move, and neither did Greg, although I saw his cock drop to nothing in a matter of seconds. "Get out of my sight," Gramps snarled at Greg, and he obediently complied. I could see that as the oldest of the two of us, and, indeed, the instigator of the incestuous scene, the two tight-asses were going to hold me personally responsible.
I still didn't move. I lay naked on top of the bed, my legs still spread and my pussy still open, right in Gramps's face. I wondered if he was getting a hard-on.
"You whore!" he screamed. "You tramp!" He paused, then snarled "Cover yourself, hooker." I grabbed the sheet.
"I can't imagine. Doing THAT with your brother! la all my life, I have never actually seen with my own two eyes such grievous sin and such perversion! You are leaving!" he yelled. I could give a shit. "I mean, in 30 minutes, I want you and your brother and your bags down at the bus stop." He turned and stalked out of the room, screaming "I don't want to see your face again... EVER!"
I was left alone with my scowling Grandmother, for line-of-bull #2.
"How could you?" she demanded.
"I was horny," I replied.
"Only a prison is low enough for you, young lady."
"Thank you."
"Yet I know of a half-way measure, that maybe will straighten you out without giving you a criminal record. I'm sure your mother will agree with me when I suggest it."
What a crock of shit. "What place is that?" I asked disinterestedly.
"The Jason Maxwell School for Girls," she seethed. "It's right down your alley." She pivoted and left the room.
Grammy would never know how right she was, nor would I for another month or so. I shrugged and rolled out of bed to finish my trip to the John. But I would find out about Maxwell. It was right down my alley, too. Ask Ruthie or Diane or Pam about it while you're at it. They feel the same way I do.
CHAPTER FOUR
Well, he was really going to do it, Tom thought as he idly watched Linda cross the street to his battered old Studebaker. He noticed that her tits jiggled a lot-she probably wasn't wearing a bra, which was unusual for her with her big jugs. She waved to him, then pulled the door open, clambered in and scooted across the seat to snuggle against him.
She grinned impishly. "Guess what?" she demanded.
"What?" He started the engine.
"You remember Bubbles?"
"Of course," he said impatiently. Jesus did he remember her! "What about her?"
"She got sent away to the Maxwell Girls' School today until she finishes high school-almost two years!"
"No shit?! " He was interested now. "What for?"
"She ran off with Bobby for the weekend. God knows what they did, but her parents have a pretty good idea."
"Doesn't take much brains," he noted. They were silent for a moment.
"I don't really care," Linda said seriously. "I just thought I'd mention it. I mean, I'm not worried about Bubbles. Right now I'm more worried about Linda." She pressed herself even tighter against him and pecked his cheek.
"Why don't you blow me off, Bubbles?" Bob Lehman demanded irritably. Tom sniggered. Old Bubbles really had a bad case for Bobby. At 18 years old, Bubbles looked 40 and acted 10. She had stringy, kinky hair, a hard, bitchy face, a figure like a pear, and a vocabulary like a longshoreman. Everyday as mechanics Lehman and Moyes attempted to keep John's Cowtown Mobil Service open with a minimum of trouble and service delay, Bubbles appeared, pestering Bob to distraction and making it hard to work efficiently. Tom didn't care-he found it amusing. It wasn't him that Bubbles was after!
Then there was Bubbles' friend, Linda Brown, a short girl with huge tits who usually waited for Bubbles in the office. Tom had caught Linda staring at him several timesmaybe she wanted to give him a knob-job. It was an idea to be thought through, since, un-like Baby Huey Bubbles, she wasn't a bad-looking chick. Tom was always too busy to shoot the shit with her, though. He laid his wrench on the fender of the car he was working on and turned his ear toward the first service bay where Bob was having it out with Bubbles.
"Listen, Bubbles," he said with exasperation, "if you wanna suck my dick, that's okay. Otherwise, I've got work to do, and I haven't got time for all this horseplay. So if you don't want to eat me, come see me when I'm off the clock, wouldja?"
There was a momentary silence, then: "Okay, Bobby," said Bubbles as sweetly as her gravelly voice would permit. "Where do you want your blow-job? On the first pump-island? Wherever, dearest." There was another stunned silence and Tom nearly laughed aloud. He knew that in posing the offer to Bubbles, Bob had wanted to rid himself of his ugly shadow, never dreaming that she might actually take him up on it.
"No..." said Bob hesitantly. He looked nauseous. "Not there-in the back room."
"Okay." She waddled to the entrance then turned and glared at Bob. "Well?" she demanded. "Coming?" Bob muttered: "I don't even know if I can get it up, much less cum," which Bubbles ignored, but he followed her to the storeroom.
"Watch the driveway, Tom," he said. Tom grinned.
"Sure." He walked slowly to the office, shaking his head in near disbelief.
Linda was sitting in one of the green scoop chairs that his boss had bought for about a dollar apiece, facing him. She smiled as Tom entered. Hmmm, he thought, he could see up her dress... very nice flowered panties. He leaned on the counter and faced her so that he could keep his visual contact with her underwear. "Do you," he asked the always-quiet Linda, "know what they're doing back there?"
"Bubbles is giving Bobby a blow-job."
"Indeed," said Tom majestically. "It must be quite a sight."
"Mmmmmm," Linda said indifferently. "I'd like to watch. It would be interesting.
How about that shit, Tom asked himself. That could be arranged. "Tell you what, Linda," he said. "I'd like to see it, too, so we'll watch together. I know just the place." He turned his back to the girl and hid himself in the closet-sized office where he very quietly removed a bulletin board that hung on the back wall. Behind the bulletin board was a rough, gaping hole that had been left when ; John took the air conditioner he had installed out. He I re-entered the main office and beckoned to Linda. "C'mon," he said. "But be quiet." Linda grinned conspiratorially and tiptoed into the closet.
Tom was already crouching on the desk and peering through the hole. There was steel grating hung with inner tubes and various paraphernalia, but there was also a nearly unobstructed view of Bubbles and Bobby. Bob was only just pulling down his fly. As Linda joined him on the desktop, Bob reached into his pants and pulled out his flaccid cock. "Make it stand up, Bubbles," he said rudely. Linda repressed a giggle.
Bubbles took Bob's peter into her mouth eagerly and began slurping loudly on it. When she took her head off for a deep breath, Tom was surprised to see that it was hard. Amazing-old Bubbles had managed to turn his friend on.
He'd never compared hard-ons with anyone else, but Tom was gratified to note that his own erection was considerably larger than that of his partner. Naturally, it wasn't the size... and all that other Dr. Reuben shit. But most girls liked the idea of being challenged with a big pecker. Maybe that was why he never got laid?
Glancing down at Linda, Tom was glad that she had at least some interest in the proceedings. He saw that she squirmed around as she sat on her heel. She was getting hot! How about that?
It wasn't long before Bubbles finished Bob off and drank his cum. As Tom and Linda clambered down from their perches, Linda leading the way out the cubicle, Tom snaked an arm around the well-built girl and cupped her immense tit. He could feel the hard nipple against his palm, but was nevertheless surprised when he received not a slap in the mouth but a response as Linda reversed her course and returned to the private booth, rubbing her ass up against Tom's leg. He was equally amazed when her dainty fingers reached into his baggy pants and wrapped around his stiffening pecker.
"Jesus," he said, "you really want it, don't you?"
"You'd best believe it," Linda said. She never spoke unless she had something to say.
He raised her dress and pulled her flowered panties down, plunging a hand into her cunt. To his surprise, his third, she not only failed to object to the more intimate touches, but squatted slightly so that her knees were parted and bucked her hips back and forth, rubbing her cunt against his hand. He'd never seen anything quite like this, Tom rapturously thought. In no time at all, he could feel her cunt juice wetting his hand. He reached an explorative forefinger into her hole and found it hot and juicy, wet enough to take a prick, not to mention a finger. She was a quick-warming girl, no doubt about that! He squeezed two fingers into her hole and started fucking her slowly with them. With every movement of his wrist, Linda's hips countered with a movement that brought the two closer. She was riding his ringer as he was riding her. She buried her face in his neck and took bits of his skin into her mouth, wetting it and biting it. He had never been "gone over" there, and it did excite him. Her hands played at the small of his back as she shoved her magnificent jugs against Tom's chest. He hefted the pair inside their confinement without missing a stroke of his finger-fucking. They were heavy-carrying a pair of watermelons like that would have made him stoop-shouldered! After all this, he thought, Linda had better blow him, or he was going to have to sell gas all day with a stiff! Her squeezings on his rod were glorious. He heard stirrings from the back room and quickly disengaged himself from Linda, and the two of them returned to the service bay and leaned against Tom's project.
Bubbles emerged first, walking on air, and wordlessly left the station through the garage door. Bob emerged next, fastening his belt-buckle and whistling. He grinned at Tom and acknowledged Linda. "Finest kind," he said. "Didn't spill a drop." He went back to his carburetor adjustment.
"Say, Bob," said Tom casually,, "would you do me a favor?"
"Sure, ol' pal," Bob assured him. "What can I do? Just name it."
"I wanted to check out the seats in this car here." He pointed to his project. "I was wondering if you would raise me and my assistant up on the lift?"
Bob's jaw dropped. "You mean . , . " He looked from Tom to Linda's globes and back. Closing his trap he said "Sure, you mother-fucker," and positioned himself by the brass lift handle. "Work fast, don't you?"
"Yeah," said Linda.
"Watch the driveway, Bob," said Tom, climbing into the back of the family-sized Plymouth and slamming the door. "And be sure to eat your heart out." He leaned out the window grinning triumphantly.
"Sure," said Bob again. "What are friends for, after all?"
Tom divested Linda easily of the loose-fitting dress. Her bra was happy to yield-he felt sure that her knockers must be putting quite a strain on it. With a quick motion her panties were gone as well and she was entirely naked by the time the lift reached the top of its trajectory.
Tom peeled off his Mobil shirt and kicked off his shoes, peeling off shorts, loose trousers and socks all at once. Yummy, Tom exhilarated, looking at the creamy naked Linda. She was as hot-looking as she was simply hot.
As the pairs' clothing lay in a heap on the floor, the pair themselves lay in a heap on the seat. "Okay," said Tom. "Now, as you've probably guessed, I want my blow job." Linda nodded eagerly and took his cock into her mouth. He went immediately breathless with delight. In the course of an average day that offered little but greasy hands and bitchy customers, he hardly expected something like this! Linda sucked hard on him as if his peter was a drinking straw and bordered soon on making him cum. He stroked her body as she lay prostrate on the seat, and twisted a pinky around in Linda's accessible ass-hole, He took a handful of her jug and squeezed it gently, wrenching its pendulous bulk around. The nipple thrust between his fingers and he tightened them together around it as Linda moaned around his cock, quite a treat by itself. As he held her heavy tit, an idea came to him.
"Hold it, baby," he said. "I've got a brainstorm." He pulled her off of his bursting cock with some misgivings, then raised himself from his seated posture on the bench and leaned slightly over the back of the front seat.
"Okay, Linda. Roll over on your back and stretch out on the seat as much as you can."
"Whatever you say," she mumbled weakly and complied. It was plain that Linda would rather be getting on with it. Well, he thought, she'd like it better when he was finished.
Linda was short enough that she fit on the seat almost perfectly, her heels resting on the armrest. Tom turned around. "Okay," he approved the proceedings, "now I'm going to get on top of you." He reached his leg across her and assumed the 69 position, then moved down her body slightly so that his knees rested on either side of Linda's neck. He sprawled forward, checked the position.
"What's this?" asked Linda impatiently.
"You'll see."
He lowered his hips at last so that he plunged face first into Linda's crack. She got the idea.
"Oh, yes!" she cried. "Gobble it all up!" He arched his torso so that his near-bursting cock squeezed tightly between Linda's mountainous, bouncing tits. As he ate her, lie fucked the valley between her jugs-it was dry, but not bad at all, plus he was giving and getting the extra thrill of having Linda's swollen nipples rubbing against his abdomen. It wouldn't take too many strokes to make him cum. Thank God, he thought, that Linda wasn't wet enough to drip on the seat-the customer would have a fit!
He fucked her with long strokes as he ate her at a contrastingly leisurely pace. Her ass raised entirely off the seat as she jammed it against his face. He prodded at her hole with his nose. Ahhhh, there was nothing like the smell of a good cunt, he thought. There were lots of rancid twats in the world, but Linda's was definitely not one of them. It had a fresh, clean smell to it and a rather sweet taste. Her cunt-hair tickled his nostrils and he laughed into a mouthful of pussy, feeling as he did a rash of slippery juice as Linda came. With a few more strokes, Tom, too, climaxed, spurting his cum across Linda's stomach and his own.
"Let 'er down," Tom called. He was panting slightly from his exertion. He smiled as the car started to fall over the whoosh of the escaping air he could hear Bob muttering "Jesus Christ, some guys have all the luck."
Tom turned to Linda as he fastened his belt buckle. "Well," he said, "it wasn't exactly a blow job."
"That's okay," Linda replied. "I don't go in for blow jobs anyway."
Tom kissed Linda lightly on the top of her head as they drove, at the same time taking a gander down the front of her low-cut sweater. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, he mentally slavered. Whatever else could be said about Linda, she did have a nice set. The pink, tasty nipples were already halferect and Tom could detect a spreading blush between them that always appeared when she was aroused. Awwwww, shit... He tore his eyes away, let his foot off the brake, and pulled away from the stop-sign.
"Are you all ready?" asked Linda.
"Certainly." He was indeed looking forward to getting laid. "You'd best believe it," he said with gusto.
"I'm all set, too," she said and sighed. "It's a long drive to your house, though."
"True," Tom admitted. "Why don't you blow me to make the time go faster?" It was going to be a really long drive for him, he thought, because his thickening cock was bending into a pretzel in his shorts, but he hesitated to just reach into his fly and straighten it out. No matter what she did, that fucking Linda always gave him a hard-on!
He was half-joking, and Linda grimaced. "You know I don't go in for blow-jobs." She smiled then-it was a joke between them. Tom shrugged.
"Jack me off, then." He was still mostly kidding, but he hoped that she would grab his cock and get it out of its crooked position. He looked down and saw that she was giving the matter some serious thought. Good, he told himself, beads of sweat appearing on his lip.
He swung the car around the corner at 89th Street There were no other cars out-actually, why didn't she? He was gratified when Linda said "okay."
She leaned over and unzipped Tom's fly, then undid his belt and the top button. Tom almost came out of sheer relief when she pulled his pecker out of its painful angle and over the top of his shorts.
"You naughty boy," Linda teased, "you're already hard."
Tom had never fucked Linda, but he knew from past experience that she did a good job of jacking him off. She had long, finely honed nails that she used to their advantages, circumscribing the knob of his cock and raking an even track on either side of the cord underneath. She plunged a tip into the hole of his pecker and swiveled it around to his exquisite enjoyment. Finally she wrapped her slender fingers around it and, barely touching it, stroked in up-and-down rings, gradually increasing pressure against the pud until she was squeezing it tightly, almost painfully. Tom moaned and closed his eyes, opening them in time to only just avoid a tree. Christ, he thought, he'd have to be more careful! But it felt great to have his peter stroked by a hand other than his own. He wondered what it was going to be like to slip her the dick; how her slippery hot insides would fit around him. The thought and a final squeeze by Linda made him cum.
"Ahhhhhh," he moaned. Linda must have felt him cuming. Suddenly she tightened her fingers under his cock, closing off the passage just as his rushing cum began to rise. His loins pumped twice against the stoppage, then she released her grip to a third spasm that rocketed a gluey gob of sperm to the dashboard of the speeding car. That was a hell of a trick, Tom sighed happily as he dodged a parked car. He'd thoroughly enjoyed that. He looked down at Linda. "Thanks."
"It was my pleasure." She was breathing heavily, he saw, so took a hand off the steering wheel and grabbed one of her lolling breasts. He could feel the almost cock-hardness of what he knew to be immense nipples on proportional tits. She moaned as she stuffed his peter back into his fly.
"Hot, babe?"
"Am I ever!" she said, nodding and squirming her tit against the palm of his hand. "Mmmmmmmm!" she groaned. "How much further?"
"About two blocks," her future sex partner replied. He kept kneading the breast as he rounded the last corner-Thank God for power steering!
In a matter of moments he pulled the derelict Studebaker up in the driveway of a modest house. "Bedtime," he announced.
"When I get you upstairs " , " Linda threatened. Tom laughed.
"When I get you upstairs..." he mimicked her.
He swung the door open and the pair hotfooted for the steps opposite the entrance. Linda was about to wear him out, Tom thought when he reached the top. He practically had to carry the girl up as she leaned heavily and passionately against him, whimpering slightly.
He was hot again already! He grabbed the waistband of Linda's hotpants and pulled them to her knees. God, he mentally raged, he wanted cunt! She was as wet as a lake, he found as he reached his hand out and ran it through her pussy hair. It was black and coarse, as it was on her head, but very sparse. She guided his hand back and forth over her throbbing clit, grunting at every contact.
"I can hardly wait to fuck," she said. "It's just, not the same with fingers-anyone's!"
An astute observation, thought Tom, though he couldn't complain about the treatment of his cock by her hand. Abruptly she pulled away and raised her pants. "Let me go undress," she said and disappeared into the bathroom.
What the hell? wondered Tom, slightly disgusted. That was a fine howdy-do! Undress in the bathroom... Christ! Well... he resignedly did-likewise.
He could see why Linda loved his ass, he thought with mock vanity as he undressed inside the door, observing himself in the mirror. He was thin, but not quite emaciated, with little hair on his body except that around his cock. Linda had a bad habit of pulling it. He was tall, with a very curly reddish mop, a narrow face, and a moronic smile. Not a bad putz, either, he complimented himself as he looked himself over. It was five inches long and not but halferect. You're okay, baby, he framed the thought and kissed his reflection. He scolded himself: enough of that-he had Linda to service yet... speak of the devil.
"Here I am," she announced.
And there indeed was the naked Linda Brown. She was short and a little on the skinny side herself, but definitely nice. Her hips were narrow but still pronounced below a thin waist which, in turn, was below... Jesus, what a pair! Linda had without a doubt the biggest pair of tits that he had ever seen in real life, or in Playboy or Caper or anywhere else. She was really stacked! They sagged a little, he noted, but how else could they hang? They'd have to be filled with helium not to. The nipples were three full inches across, though the dividing line between breast and cap was hard to distinguish because the blood-pink color of the puckered centers faded by stages to match the color of her smooth knockers. The caps were of an inconsistent texture and had a crumbly-rubbery feel to them as Tom gently ran his fingers over them. He could feel them quiver, as though they wanted to reach out even further than their points already thrust.
"Come on, Tom," Linda urged. "Let's fuck!" He needed no second call.
She backed toward the twin-sized bed in the corner of the disordered room, sat on it, then raised her feet to the sheets and leaned against the wall. She parted her thighs and opened her pussy to Tom like a Chinese fan. The broad pink lips glistened with juice, and he could detect the slightest trembling of her excited clit. He swallowed hard. He wanted to dive in, he thought, and paddle around in the swimming, swampy crack. Linda pointed to her twat and said "Kiss it, Tom." She loved to have her cunt eaten almost as much as he liked to eat it.
He went to his knees in front of the bed, as if he were saying his prayers. Oh Father, he vowed, bless this meat which we are about to receive! He practically toppled into Linda's pussy to her accompanying sob of delight; lapped at her clit-pearl like it was the world's tastiest lollipop, drawing it between his lips and sucking on it hungrily. He then abruptly reversed the effect and blew out between his pursed lips into the parted petals around it. At this, Linda gasped loudly. Tom looked up quickly and saw real tears on the girl's face. "That's so great..." she squeaked. "Don't stop!" It was, Torn thought happily, the farthest thing from his mind.
He moved his operations lower, around the splayed opening of her hole. The rim of the opening was darkened and inflamed-God, she was really wanting it! He treated the tight ring to rough dog-laps that brought Linda's delighted knees crashing against either side of his head, spreading again and then bashing against his skull once more.
"Sorry about that," Linda said sheepishly. "Quit, now, baby." Let's fuck! I mean, really fuck."
She twisted on her ass and stretched out on the bed as Tom climbed happily between her thighs. He positioned his cock eagerly, placed the tip against the opening, then pushed. God almighty, he wondered, what was the fucking scoop? It barely slid in an inch, and was so tight that he could hardly move. He shoved with his full weight and it slipped in the rest of the way. He started pumping in and out with difficulty, yet felt less resistance with every stroke. He'd heard of tight cracks, but this... Wait a minute... could it be...? "Are," he began, then changed his mind, "were you a virgin, Linda?"
She grinned and nodded. "Yes," she admitted. "I used to be."
Omigod! He'd initiated a busted cherry. He might have pondered the matter further, but at that moment his climax welled up inside him and he sprayed Linda's pussy for the first time with jets of cum. He felt like he was christening a ship, or something, though he'd never heard of a ship being christened with cum.
He smiled and kept pumping, taking one of Linda's tactile boobs in his mouth and manipulating the tip as he had her clit until he saw the sharp inhalation of breath that invariably preceded her orgasm.
Tom rolled slowly off and lay beside her, contemplating his navel. Well, he thought, he'd actually done it. He'd really fucked her. After all the hand jobs and muff-diving, he'd actually germinated some virgin soil. How about that shit? Linda rolled onto her side and propped her head on her elbow.
"How bad?" she asked.
Tom grinned and looked over at her. "Not real bad," he said. "But don't undress in the bathroom. It loses a little of the translation!"
"Okay," she vowed. "I promise I'll do better next time."
"That's good enough," said Tom and pecked her forehead. He felt her hand on his cock, felt it getting hard again. Next time was going to be very soon.
Melissa Gurley glanced down at the gas gauge of the battered station wagon and swore softly to herself. Son-of-a-bitch, she thought, the car was not only running empty but the red needle was sweeping the negative space to the left of the "E." Dammit, she silently cursed. She didn't like picking up supplies anyway, except for the opportunities that it afforded her to... ogle the cock in town. But she especially hated it when she had to put gas in the car as well.
Oh, it really wasn't all that bad. Most of the girls at Maxwell had it a lot worse. Melissa had a sort of "trusty" status that allowed her out of the school to run errands-things like her present assignment of picking up school supplies for the other girls. The school loaned her the "company car", a beat-up station wagon with torn upholstery, paid for the gas, and occasionally slipped her a dollar for making the trip, which she could always find a use for. Sometimes, though, they were awfully inconsiderate about leaving the tank dry.
There was little actual need for money at Maxwell, so consequently she seldom had any. It would really be a bad deal if she were to run out of gas and money both at the same time.
She knew that there was the remainder of a personal five-dollar bill in her purse, after the payment of the exorbitant $2.65 price of a copy of Sun Circle nudist magazine asked by a Seyville news dealer. Jesus, she thought, some of those nudists were really hung! She saw a service station on her right-a Mobil. She turned in and made a bee-line for the premium pumps.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" asked the. attendant. Melissa gleaned from the embroidered patch on his shirt that his name was Tom.
"Er... yes, Tom," she said. "Two dollars worth of Premium."
"Yes, ma'am." He bowed slightly and stuck the nozzle in the neck of the tank, then wordlessly started to clean her windshield. Mmmmmm, she thought, it almost made her horny to watch him, though it seldom took much to make her horny. It was almost like a ballet the way he cleaned first the passenger's side, then her own with only a dirty towel, a few drops of water and some elbow grease. She watched his buttocks move as he walked and wondered carelessly what he looked like naked. Pretty good, most-likely, she guessed. She idly glanced down at her lap.
Hmmmm. No wonder it was taking him such a long time to do her side. She hadn't been very modest in the position of her legs as she waited for him to finish. Her plaid skirt had ridden a long way up the tops of her thighs, and her knees were probably 6 inches apart. Tom could see just about all there was to see!
She looked at the attendant's midsection with amusement. Why, he had a hard-on! He gave the windshield a last swipe, then turned his attention to the gas nozzle.
Tom's didn't seem to be a bad-sized cock. It definitely made her hot to look at the obvious bulge in the boy's trousers. She figured Tom to be just a little younger than her 19 years. Maybe he'd like to fuck? She hadn't had a cock in quite a while. It wasn't, after all, that Melissa was any better-behaved than the rest of the Maxwell girls; she only lied to her higher-ups better. The more she thought about it, the more the perversion of the idea appealed to her .."
" Tom came around to the window.
"Two dollars, ma'am," he said. She handed him the two bills.
"Let me have a cash ticket on that, too," she called as he walked away.
"Sure," he replied agreeably. Melissa watched him surreptitiously getting an eyeful as he walked around the front of her car.
As soon as he was out of eyeshot, she hiked the skirt up over her waist and pulled her panties off altogether, taking, as she did, the liberty of feeling herself out. Crimenni, she thought, she was hot as a pistol! She pulled her skirt down and resumed her former position behind the wheel.
And just in time, too, she noted-Tom was on his way back across the driveway with the receipt.
She smiled prettily at him when he came alongside. She kept her knees closed at first, but then as she took the receipt spread them with mock carelessness. Tom's eyes almost fell out of his head.
"Why..." she asked innocently, "what's the matter, Tom?"
"Nothing..." he mumbled, scarcely containing a drool. "Nothing at all." He paused. "Er... let me get that windshield for you. I see a streak." He dashed for the windshield bottle and a towel.
Melissa snapped her fingers. "Oh," she said with exaggerated recall, "I know what it must be!" She reached under the seat, withdrew her panties and dangled them in front of the boy's face. "I had to take these off to scratch myself you-know-where." She was so coy that her suggestion would be obvious.
Tom's face was a comical caricature of disbelief. It was all she could do to keep from laughing. "It doesn't itch now, Tom," she said, her voice dripping with sugar. "Maybe you'd like to put them back on for me?"
"Sure," the attendant jumped at the chance. He was regaining his composure. "Corns in the back room and I'll help you out."
Melissa nodded and opened the door, giving him a good view of her bare cunt widespread as she stepped out. It felt good to stand, she thought-besides which, she was dripping onto the back of her skirt, and grease made such a. terrible stain! She took Tom's arm and allowed him to lead the way to the back room.
"How do you like your panties-juicy?" he asked conversationally.
"Hot," she said.
"How do you like getting fucked?"
"With a cock and as often as possible," she replied. Tom, too, apparently decided that there wasn't much more to be said.
The back room was rather rusty and messy, but it would do. Tom spread three fender covers end-to-end to cushion the hardness of the concrete, then said "Hold it just a second." He ran to the office. As Melissa waited impatiently, removing her shoes and socks, she heard the sound of a key turning in the lock of the front door, then the sound of switches being clicked one after another. She saw the driveway lights go off and quietly praised Tom's good sense. They wouldn't be disturbed. She was as horny as a nymphomaniac in the Jets locker room. Damn, she thought, what was taking so long?
Melissa admired confidence, and Tom seemed to have it. The moment that he reappeared, he dropped his pants with a single motion and stepped out of them. He stripped off his drawers and pointed his fullyerect cock at her like a gun. "Bang! Bang!" he said. That, Melissa thought, was just what she had in mind.
Oh, God, she was hot! Her cunt practically throbbed as she undressed. She wanted to rip the clothes from her body and hop into it, but miraculously restrained herself. She wouldn't want to get duty-she was going to have to get back into school somehow. She didn't want to lose her "trusty" status.
She popped off her brassiere and dropped her skirt at last, leaving her suddenly and dazzlingly naked.
She was just a little heavy, but she knew that she looked good enough to get fucked as often as she wanted. She was mainly a big girl all around-nothing about her seemed out of proportion. She had broad hips and a slight bulge at the abdomen that tapered from one side to a flat stomach and from the other to her pussy. Her flesh was smooth and very white-she seldom bathed in the sun. Her tits were yummy-looking, medium-sized bulbs that did not sag but rather hung liquidly with turned-up nipples varying shades of pink and widely spaced on her chest.
Her face was oval and clear, set with large brown eyes. The eyelashes were thick and surrounded her eyes darkly all the way around and made them appear even larger than they were. Innocent was a good description. Below a button nose, a grin as high as it was wide showed even teeth with one flaw-one of the lower teeth had been broken and crowned with silver, lending a literal sparkle to her expression. She closed her smile, though, to lick hungrily at her lips as she looked at Tom's cock and imagined where it would be very soon-in her cunt. She was creaming all over herself at the prospect.
Maybe because of her cute pot, her cunt seemed tucked by special order between her legs. The crack was thatched well with lush brown hair that lay flat as though it were combed. When she was as hot as she was, her pink insides expanded and forced themselves wetly out, leaving discernible tracks on her panties-when she was hot and wearing panties at the same time, a rare occurrence. The crack was broad and her capacity adequate for any cock she had ever encountered; sometimes the fit was even a little loose. But then, there were remedies for that. Tom knelt down by the fender covers.
"Well?" he asked. His cock dangled between his legs like a tasty sausage. "Let's get down to fucking."
"Uh, sorry..." said Melissa, coming out of her reverie. She started to kneel by the fender covers with the horny attendant, but suddenly spotted an inflated inner tube in the rack over her head "Hey, Tom," she said brightly. "I've got an idea!"
"What? I've got a few ideas myself."
"Get the inner tube." She pointed to the rubber donut.
"What?! Are you insane?... Well, okay," he said. Melissa only gave a guy pussy if she got her way, and he must have sensed it. He rolled the tube out.
"Good," she said. She took it from him and lay it on the floor, then lay back on it, her shoulders on one bead and her ass on the other, her legs drawn up to her neck. "Okay, baby," she said. "Melissa is hot to trot and all set!" God, if she didn't get a cock soon, she was going to go nuts. She was glad she'd stopped for gas!
"This is crazy," said Tom, but nevertheless mounted Melissa and slid his meat into her needy hole. He lay on top of her and allowed her to wrap her legs around his neck as he started a hard, hard fucking that bounced them a little across the floor with every stroke. If they had been on the floor, Melissa knew, the velocity of his strokes would actually have hurt her. But it was a real kick in an inner tube!
"Yippeeeee!" she yelled, her snatch reverberating wetly and audibly. "Ride-em, Cowboy!"
"I hope," said Tom between strokes, "that you're about to cum, because I sure am." Melissa held out until she felt the blasts of his cum against her insides, then came not once but twice as Tom continued to fuck her. With a last thrust, he bounced himself off and onto the floor, where he stretched out on the cold cement. He looked comfortable, so Melissa did-likewise. The cold did a lot for her afterglow. There was no hurrying her.
In a quarter hour, Melissa drove through the first Maxwell guardhouse. Tom had snipped some wires around the headlights then spliced them again so that it would look as though he had been working on the car, thus she could account for the half-hour that she had spent fucking. She dropped the station-wagon off, then returned late to her hall.
"Ruthie?" she whispered.
"Mmmmm?" Her friend was drowsy.
"I've got a story to tell you. Listen to this..." She related her account of the evening's fucking, then turned her back to-undress. She heard the sheets rustling behind her as Ruthie's hand found her cunt. Christ, she thought, that girl would never change!
CHAPTER FIVE
"Father, I have sinned."
Miss Theresa Rexhaven crouched in the confessional, taking solace in the Sanctuary of the Jason Maxwell School for Girls. Her head was bowed to her fallen breasts in penitence.
"Amen," said the cleric. "Proceed."
"Mine is both a sin of commission and a sin of omission, Father," said the headmistress. "It was committed many years ago but I have never told you of it. You know that I have taken confession here many times."
"I do."
"Yet I have never confessed to this immense sin. In all my years confessing the terrible, wicked things that I have done, I have never mentioned this enormity. Can I be forgiven?"
"Certainly. There is mercy in Our Savior for every sinner, who gave his only Son to die for your sins."
"Thank you, Father. Before I go on, may I ask one more question?"
"Certainly."
"May I relate this tale in the manner that is easiest to me? It shall contain no oaths, but is what might be considered vulgar."
"Vulgarity is nothing new. Many of the words that we constantly use today were at one time considered vulgar. Proceed."
"Amen."
Well, when I was 18, I was what might be considered a beautiful young woman. I was vain and sought men who were not worthy of me. I was a cheerleader at the Seyville College.
I was not really voluptuous-I had smooth, creamy, middle-sized tits with brick-red nipples of an average size. I mainly wanted to get married then, and for this desire was fucked with regularity. Some were nice about it, but others weren't. The worst of the lot was Joe, a basketball player.
We went to the show and then out for a hamburger, which was the custom in those days, then went to look at the sea. It was beautiful that night-what little I saw of it. I felt serene, but not horny, and I vowed that on this date I was not going to give my body away. Joe, apparently, had other plans. As soon as he had stopped the engine he reached over and put one of his hands over my left jug. I was wearing a sweater-a tight, thin one, and in spite of myself the warm feel of Joe's palm started to get me hot.
My nipples started to swell and twist at the base, the way they do when they stand up. "Pleases Joe..." I pleaded.
"Sure, Baby," he sniggered and leered, "anything you say."
He put a hand over the other tit and I really started to get hot. But I was still resolved that he wasn't going to fuck me. "Joe," I scolded, "just keep your hands off."
"Come off it, baby," lie replied, and winked, "I've heard all about you. You don't have to play hard-to-get with me. We both think alike, remember?" He was very confident and super-slick. I wanted to slap him, but from the stories that I had heard about him, I didn't dare. Besides, by then I couldn't deny that I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted him to do it on my terms, but I wanted to feel a big cock inside me, pumping and pounding me. I savored the thought and allowed my nipples to erect themselves even more against Joe's hands.
So there I was. Joe started to caress my boobs and run his hands back and forth across my nipples. I was very excited then, though I tried not to show it, and I could feel that my panties were damp and sticky. Within a few minutes, Joe started breathing very heavily, and he lifted up my skirt and stuck his big hairy hand against my cunt. He could feel how wet I was, and there was no denying that I was hot. I tingled to his first touch, then suddenly he grabbed a fistful of panties and cunt-hair and cunt and twisted it painfully.
I was afraid that Joe was going to be like that. I had heard that he played rough, and I didn't like being handled that way. "Quit it, Joe," I reprimanded him sternly. I fairly shouted it. "I like boys to be gentle with me. If you want any more, you'd better start playing it straight!"
I had to slip down in the seat so that I was leaning against the door while Joe towered over me like a vampire. He was still playing with my tits, and while he was being a little bit rough with them, they Would take more horseplay than my tender pussy would.
I looked up at his face, and knew then that I was in trouble. Joe was drooling a little and his eyes were starting to glaze over. Besides being none too bright, he was a sadist-that far-off look was the easiest way to tell. I was suddenly very afraid.
"Don't hurt me, Joe," I whispered, but he didn't seem to hear.
He pulled my sweater up around my neck and clawed into my jugs. I wanted to scream, but didn't.
"Roll over," he ordered gruffly. I was too frightened not to do what he said, and the prospect of turning over at least got my boobs out of his grimy grasp. As soon as I lay on my stomach, he grabbed my hips and pulled my rear end up in the air. Viciously, he pulled my panties down, and at the same time pulled his fly down and spilled out his cock. It was a mean-looking prong, and I think I gasped. Curly, greasy hair poured out of the opening with the pecker. Until then I had never seen such a big tool. It wasn't very long-only about 5 inches. But it was thick! I knew that my pussy wouldn't hold it, and I started to say something, then I realized with horror that he had no intention of sticking that monster into my pussy. He took the tip of his finger and ran it through the groove of my cunt-it felt good, and was destined to be about the only thing he did to me that felt that way-then took the greasy finger and jabbed it into my ass-hole like a sword.
"Please..." I sobbed again and started to cry.
"Baby," Joe informed me smugly, "you are about to get rode like you ain't never been rode before."
Of that I had no doubt. Even before he entered me I was crying. I had only been fucked probably ten times in my life-all of them inside of three months-and I knew' that if my cunt wouldn't hold his fencepost cock, it was going to tear my ass-hole wide open. But there was nothing I could do. He prodded my pink, puckered butt hole with the tip of his dork, then shoved it in. He didn't go in slowly, intentionally. He had his full weight against me, his slobber dripping onto my cheeks, but I couldn't take him any quicker. My eyes nearly popped out of my head and I screamed at the top of my lungs.
"That's great, Terri," he said. "I wanna hear you scream."
He started fucking me hard then, really pounding. I could feel his balls slapping against my splayed cunt, but it didn't ease the pain.
"Wa-hoooooooo!" he yelled, like a cowboy or a bloodthirsty savage. At last I felt his cum inside me. His cum was so hot that it nearly burned me, deep down where I wasn't accustomed to invasions. He pulled himself out roughly and I screamed again.
"Shut up!" he screamed back. He meant it, I knew.
Without even stuffing his floppy pecker back in his pants, he crawled under the wheel and started the engine, me bawling all the way into town, huddled into a little ball against the door. I don't think that Joe looked at me once.
When he saw a bus stop on his right, he pulled over. "Get out, you whore!" he said. I hopped out eagerly-I was glad to be away from him. My butt hole hurt so bad I could hardly walk, but I hobbled to the bench and sat down to cry.
I knew that it would be morning before a bus came by, and it was not quite midnight. It was going to be a long wait-I could normally have walked it home in twenty minutes, but I didn't think of walking in my condition.
As I sat there crying, a girl my own age came by, walking her dog. I recognized her face-I had seen her at school a few times and at school affairs. She was an athlete, if I recalled... Lily was her name, I remembered. Lily Thrush.
She stopped and looked at me curiously. "What's the matter, honey?" she asked.
She seemed truly sympathetic and interested, but instead of telling her I just shook my head and cried harder.
"Honey," said Lily again, "come with me and let me make you a cup of coffee. You look like you really need one."
"I... I don't know If I can walk," I choked.
"What happened?! " she demanded, then quickly said, "Never mind. You tell me over a cup of coffee. Try to walk now."
I nodded dumbly and stood up. I was glad that she was strong, because I was in no shape for thinking. Jesus, it hurt even to move. Walking was a misery, but I leaned on Lily and we made the two blocks to her apartment building. Her room was on the fifth floor-thank God for the elevator!
She sat me at a table in the kitchen and put the water on, then sat down to talk. "All right," she said steadily, "What's the scoop?"
I was about cried out by then. My make-up must have been a mess, but at least I could talk and there were no more tears streaming down my face. "I... I had a date with Joe Booth. You might know him-he plays basketball. You're Lily Thrush, aren't you?"
"The one and only. You I recognize from the yearbook as Terri Rexhaven. But don't worry about me... you're scaring me, and I'm afraid you're going to go to pieces. Get it off your chest."
"Well, I went out with Joe. I have a bad reputation for fucking, but I was trying to 'mend my ways', and I wouldn't let him do it. Then he raped me."
"Then dropped you off at the bus stop? How did he hurt you?"
"That's the worst part. He raped me up the ass, and he has a very thick cock."
Lily's lips curled in disgust. "That sounds like a typical male athlete. You ought to know those bastards as well as I do," she said with the voice of genuine experience. "They're beasts, to a man."
"Do they ever do this sort of thing to you?"
"Uh-uh," Lily asserted. "Men don't do with me at all." She didn't sound at all unhappy about it-almost defiant. I wondered what that meant. "Does it still hurt?" she asked.
I smiled ruefully and nodded. "It hasn't quit any,"
"Well, then let me pour the water and I'll have a look at it. A girl can get hurt awful bad."
"I'd appreciate it," I told her. An athlete would know a lot about her body and would be able to tell me if there was anything seriously wrong. I thought that there might be, as bad as it hurt. She poured the water, then beckoned. "Come on. Let's do this in the bathroom."
I rose and hobbled after her toward the John. I noticed as we passed through it that she had a hell of a pad. We went through the living room and the bedroom to the spacious head. There was a thick carpet on the floor and the walls were enameled a bright blue. "This is very nice," I complimented her.
"Thank you," she said. "What I want you to do is stand about two feet from the sink then lean over it and bend at the waist a little." She was very clinical, and I did what she said without hesitation.
She knelt behind me and pulled up the long, pleated skirt that cheerleaders wore and tucked the hem into the waistband, then very slowly pulled my panties down to my ankles. "Step out of your underpants with one foot and part your legs about two feet," she instructed. "Hmmmmm," she said as I assumed the position. "I can see that you're bruised, but there aren't any cuts, and there isn't any blood in your panties." She paused. "That schmuck really did a job on you, didn't he?"
"Yes," I said. It was nearly two-thirty in the morning, and after all the excitement and the late hours, my head was suddenly swimming. I thought that I was going to fall asleep leaning on the sink, though I admit that I was thrilled to have gentle fingers on me for a change. Lily stopped talking but remained in her position, poking at my most intimate places. Once or twice she spread my cheeks, which hurt, but other than that was careful. I fancied in my drowsiness that she was looking at my cunt, which was, after all, spread open right in her face. Imagine that!
Suddenly I had to shit. There was no denying the urge. I was sort of sickish, and everything flooded back to me. I started to cry again.
"Lily," I pleaded. "I have to shit real bad."
"That's a raw deal, honey. Can't you hold it?"
"No," I cried, irrational tears flowing down my face.
"Well, try to let it out slowly then. Here..." She rose and grasped me by my hips and guided me backwards onto the toilet. It hurt something fierce to sit down, and when I tried to let it out even slowly it hurt too bad to continue. I really started to bawl then. I never got like that, even when I was drunk. I'm sure it was an unbecoming sight.
"I can't do it," I said. Lily watched me tenderly for a. minute, then said softly "Okay. Just hold on a minute." She disappeared but was back soon with a plastic bowl. "Stand up," she instructed. "Just like you were before." She had to help me up and guide me into position. I parted my legs a little farther, but not much, then Lily crouched again and held the bowl between them. "Go on," she said. "Take your time."
Even going slow I was in terrible pain. It took nearly fifteen minutes for me to fill the bowl with runny, smelly shit, then I grunted and peed in the bowl to boot, like a two-year-old. I stayed .frozen in position, trying to dry up while Lily cleaned me up with about 8 yards of toilet paper. As she tenderly dried the pee off of my cunt, it dawned on me that I was.... . . horny.
As a matter-of-fact, as Lily brushed across my clit with the moist toilet paper, I came, not once, but twice. She paused before touching me again, so she must have seen my cunt pulsating. I felt very ashamed of it, and a lot of other things, too, and I almost started to cry again, but somehow I managed not to.
Lily treated me right and didn't ask anything in return. I let her put my panties back on and pull them up, like she was my personal handmaiden or something, then let her put her arm around me and guide me to the bedroom. She had a double bed.
"You take half," she said. "You're going to stay, at least until tomorrow. I wouldn't think of turning you out on the streets like this." She was mothering me, and I probably did seem like a dumb, stupid kid to her. I knew that she'd been around the world with sports teams and what-not, and I felt very small. Also sleepy. "I'm exhausted," I said groggily.
"I can imagine," Lily chuckled, "I can loan you some night-things, if you like, Terri. I don't use them, personally, but I still have a few." I shook my head.
"No. I sleep naked, if you don't mind." I thought about it, then grinned. "I guess you've already seen about all there is." We laughed.
"No, not quite all," she said.
I didn't feel ashamed undressing in front of her, the way I sometimes did undressing for boys. So many of them .insulted me, trying to be funny. I felt very sexy.
Of the two of us, Lily probably had the best body. She had very big tits with chunky black nipples that I knew boys liked to chew on. Her ass was firm with a broad crack and as I looked at her across the bed, undressing with her back to me, I could see thick, long red hair between her legs, like the mane on her head. She looked like a sinewy, tawny, proud animal, and I envied her in a lot of ways. It made me kind of horny again to look at her. In spite of my aching ass-hole and two recent orgasms, I could still feel a twinge of lust.
We crawled into bed, back to back, then turned over under the sheet and faced each other. Lily laughed. "Well," she drawled comically, "G'night, Herbert."
"G'nite, Maude." I drawled back. We laughed again.
"Where's m' nitey-nite kiss?" she asked suddenly, still in dialect, and forcing a severe look.
Teasingly, jokingly, I moved forward and kissed her right on the lips. But once I touched her, I didn't want to move. I could feel my passions raging through me again at the touch, and I actually came again and literally squirted my cunt-juice onto my leg. Lily didn't want to break it off, either-she moved toward the center of the bed, slipping a cautious tongue between my lips which I eagerly met with my own. She put her arm around my waist and stroked my side and back as she kissed me the way no man has ever kissed me.
That's where the trouble started, Father. I could have gotten up and ran, but I didn't. I loved it. Over and over in my mind I kept hearing "Lesbian! Lesbian!" and I replied to myself "Yes! Yes!" and it only made me hotter. I was getting close to aiming again, this tune it was coming on slowly, giving me time to get wet and sticky and truly aroused and warm all over. I started playing with Lily's tits and felt the nipples of another girl getting hard in my hands. It was very strange, touching a foreign female body. I was no stranger to foreign pricks, but other tits were mysteries to me.
I knew where to touch Lily. She moved forward until we were touching each other, belly-to-belly on the bed. I gently stroked and caressed those places on her body that I liked to touch or have touched on my own, and she writhed sensuously in my arms. It was with only a little hesitation that I touched her cunt, and as I did I felt her hand on mine. I knew by the ease with which she explored me that I was very wet, and Lily, too, was oily and slippery. I twisted my torso so that I caught one of her tapered tits between my own and heightened Lily's arousal by flopping my pair around it. She made a "V" out of her legs so that her cunt was widespread, imploring me to bolder touches, and I did the same with mine.
It seemed like we kissed and fingered each other for hours, and they were glorious, soaring hours, if that's what they were. Two of Lily's orgasms had drowned the both of us with pussy-oils. The kiss left our mutual, mouths at last and we tongued every bit of each other's face and neck until I finally lowered myself under the linens and plunged into her cunt headfirst, at the same time clamping my thighs around her leg and fucking it pole-dog style. I gobbled it the way I'd wanted so many boys to gobble mine. After only a few minutes, I knew that we were both about to cum. I kept sucking and licking her hairy cunt, loving the foreign feel of her damp pubic hair in my face, until I felt her tremble and I knew that she had cum. I came, too, just about that time-it was nearly simultaneous, what would be an enviable record for 'male-female but very strange, or so I had only heard until then, for two girls.
I learned that Lily had been a Lesbian for a long time, but now I was one, too. We lived together happily for a while, then went our separate, friendly ways looking for more cunts to gobble. Years later, I took the job that I have at Maxwell. I've tried to keep from doing anything to the girls here, but I sometimes can't help myself. I know that they stick their fingers and their faces and anything that they can lay their hand on into their hot, young cunts, but I know that they aren't dedicated Lesbians-they're only spinning their wheels until they finish this ordeal. Maxwell doesn't straighten anyone out--I may as well admit it, but at least they finish their schooling. But let me tell you about one girl..."
There was a girl in my hall who cried for days after she arrived, the way I had the night I "saw the light", She wouldn't quit, wouldn't study, wouldn't do anything but sit in the middle of her bed in a terry cloth robe and sob. I felt sorry for her in spite of the hard show I usually put on. She reminded me so much of myself forty years before.
"Come, come, child," I entreated her. "There are worse things that could happen to you. What's worrying you so?"
"Can I speak frankly with you?" she asked cautiously. There was so much suspicion in her eyes that I was disarmed.
"Of course," I said, and meant it.
"What worries me," she said, "is Lesbians."
"Are you afraid of some of the other girls?"
"Yes," she admitted.
"They aren't really Lesbians, you know," I informed her. "They're only biding their time until they leave, as you, too, will probably do." To my surprise, this brought forth a fresh volley of tears.
"I know," she choked. "I know that they aren't Lesbians. That's my problem, because, frankly, Miss Rex-haven, I like girls. But I heard one of them, a mean-looking, foulmouthed girl, say that any true Lesbian ought to have her titties cut off, and that she would personally do it if she were ever approached by one."
"What's your name, dearie?" I asked.
"Justine."
"Justine, in a lot of ways I know how you feel. When I was your age, I found out that I liked girls better, too. I want you to stop crying now-I'm a Lesbian, and I get along. If you like," I added, "we could get along." I was speaking quickly, blurting things out. I couldn't believe I was telling all these tales. If Justine betrayed me to the other girls, or the school, I'd be ruined. But yet, I could see a softening, a hope in her eyes and I knew that she wouldn't.
"But you're so..." she began.
"Old?" She nodded. "I prefer to think of myself as 'experienced', " I said. But I wasn't nasty about it. I began to see the two of us fucking wildly, and I was practically drooling. Not only was she succulent beyond belief, but we had that one vital thing in common. "Would you like me to "touch" you now?" I offered.
She was silent, then suddenly said, "Touch my tits."
I took the mission with pleasure, doing everything to her budding boobs that I could think of, feeling hot little points grow into my palms as I shuffled around inside the bathrobe. She tossed her head. I knew that she was loving it-she clamped her thighs together and shivered with delight. I started to stick one of my hands between her legs-I was dying to touch her little box, but she said "No!" then sheepishly, in a more pleasant tone, added, "Just my... unh!... tits."
It was obvious that she was cuming, so I banged her globes together and let the rolling nipples rasp against the terry cloth, and she came.
She still sat in the middle of the bed, and I stood beside it afterward. "Would you like me to do you?" she asked. I shook my head.
"Can I look at your cunt, though?" I begged. I wanted to see what I had missed.
She nodded obligingly. "Sure." She parted the robe and spread her legs wide apart in my face.
It was a perfectly ordinary cunt, thick with strawberry-blonde thatch, but as I examined it, creaming in my pants, I noticed that there was not a drop of cunt juice on her or the robe. "No wonder you don't like boys!" I exclaimed.
"That's it," she confessed. "But it sure comes in handy for me. I can masturbate or be as horny as I like anywhere I want and no one ever knows. I used to go off in my pants during gym class four or five times an hour, and never got myself sticky." She paused. "I think that we're going to be good friends, Miss Rexhaven," she said.
"I think so, too," I agreed.
Almost every night until she graduated we found some way to make love. Yes, Father, we made love. We really loved each other.
I miss Justine sometimes. There hasn't been another honest Lesbian since she left. I've had a few girls since then, some that would really do kinky things, but all they actually wanted was a little extra freedom to let some guy get into their pants. Ugh! The thought of a guy makes my ass-hole hurt!
Generally, I don't dare pick on the girls, though most of them are so beautiful that every time I see their firm, naked bodies I start to cream in my undies and it's a quick trip to the head to finger myself, or a big mess.
"I'm fifty-eight, Father. It's been forty years since that night at Lily's, and I haven't had another man since. Pray for me, or I'm going to flat-out rape one of the girls; please pray. Every time I pass one of them I want to stroke her tits or shove my arm in their cunts to the elbow.
God, I'm going crazy.
She was drooling. "Father, give me strength," she sobbed. She was silent for a moment, and in that moment she heard three odd slaps, a grunt from the cleric and a distinct 'splat' against the partition between them... Men! she fumed.
"Say one 'Hail Mary", Sister," admonished the puffing, breathless priest.
"Thank you, Father," Miss Rexhaven returned meekly, and reverently left the stall.
It must have been the old priest, she thought. The young one usually just laughed.
CHAPTER SIX
Julia Dukes lay her textbook down on her desk in disgust as the teacher's voice droned mercilessly on and on and on. She looked around and saw that none of the other girls were paying the old crone math teacher any heed, either. Before she had been conscripted to Maxwell, Julia had been no good at math, and no amount of verbiage was going to make her any better. Her hall-mates were doing their typical things. Diane was daydreaming, Pam and Beth were passing notes, Ruthie was surreptitiously masturbating, rubbing her cunt under her dress.
Julia really wanted no part of the Maxwell sex scene. All the girls had been involved in such wild and groovy, yet unfulfilling sex before they "took the fall". Maybe some of her miscellaneous and many sleepings with Lenny had been wild, but they had certainly been fulfilling! She remembered the night out at the transmitter... Leonard Franke, her "steady" outside, was a radio engineer, a pleasant chap of Julia's. While he went to school, he made a living guarding electronic broadcasting equipment against failure from midnight until 6 in the morning. He seldom had anything to do there-the equipment was all top-quality and brand-new, so there was little chance of a break-down. As a result, the privacy of a little blockhouse in the middle of a wide field strewn with weeds and radio towers became a good place to meet.
"Hurry up, Lenny," Julia chided affectionately. "I'm about to cum all over myself!"
"Hold onto your panties," retorted Lenny good-naturedly. "I've gotta get set up first." He quickly unfolded the aluminum-frame cot that he brought to work in the back of his battered pick-up truck to pass the tune alone, but Julia knew that stains on the mattress and cover could attest to a few of their nights together.
As soon as the pad was smoothed out he turned to his girlfriend, About time, too, she noted.
Her passions raged as he took her in his arms and kissed her violently. Her long, chestnut hair spilled around their heads like a hood as the tossed together, but neither minded. As her jugs were crushed against his chest she felt his hard cock against her tummy and pressed herself against it. Oh, how she wanted that cock! His pants and her underwear separated them from actual connection, but he rubbed the bulge of his trousers against her inflamed cunt through the fabric, bumping and grinding his sausage through the crack of her yearning pussy. This would have to stop, as much as she hated to let it, or they would both be cuming in their pants, and she wanted Lenny's cum and hers to mingle.
She broke the flaming kiss and pushed him gently away, "You know I'm not that kind of girl," she teased.
"You know that I am that kind of guy, though," he reminded her.
"True. In that case, help me out of this dress."
Lenny unsnapped the clasp at her neck and pulled the zipper down to the top of her ass, running his free fingers down the ridge of her backbone. Mmmmm, she thought. That felt great. When his fingers reached her ass she wanted him to continue, to explore her buttocks, but said nothing-there would be plenty of time for that later.
She dropped her dress and stepped out of it, noting as always the appreciation in Lenny's eyes. "Why, Lenny," she mock-gasped, "you look like you've never seen a girl in her underwear before."
"Oh..." he stammered, "I've seen girls in their underwear before. Never goddesses." Always with the soft-soap and flattery, she thought, but allowed herself to be flattered anyway.
Julia looked good any time-dressed, in her underwear, naked. She liked to undress for Lenny and took care to select the right underwear for the right clothes. Tonight she wore a low-cut bra of white lace brimming with milky tits-which seemed hardly substantial enough to support her knockers-and white lace panties that she knew Leonard loved. Yes, she had worn them the first time they'd fucked. Through the sheer panties her ass was visible and tantalizing along with the bulge of a thick mane of pubic hair. Lenny loved to bury his face, his hands, his cock in her cunt-hair-she ought to try brushing it or something, but it was already attracting attention.
"You're tasty," approved Lenny.
"Thanks," Julia accepted. "Why don't you give me a chance to look at you? I can't pass judgment with your clothes on." she wanted to get on-she was making a mess in her frilly panties, and they were only single-crotch!
Now he was on the right track, she thought, as he hastily removed his clothes. "Sorry Jule," he apologized. "You know how forgetful I am."
At 18, Lenny's body was covered with bristly hair-on his head, his face, his chest, around his schmuck-that always tickled her a little bit when she lay next to him, below him, atop him. Already good pay and easy work were beginning to tell on him: he had just a trace of a flabby pot that Julia thought was cute.
But best of all, he had a nice 7-inch erection, firm and hot and red, that fit her quite well. As he bared it for her at last she smacked her lips with pleasure.
"Let's try something a little different tonight," she suggested. "I saw a Japanese poster today with the sitting position. like to give that a go?" Variety, she thought, was the spice of life.
"Julia," Lenny assured her fervently, "I'd try anything, even hanging from the ceiling, as long as somewhere along the line I could get into you."
"Good. Have a seat, then."
Lenny obediently sat Indian-style on the foam pad and watched raptly as Julia tantalized him, waddling the length of the cot in front of him, one foot on each side, her lovely, wet and pantieless snatch spread wide at his eye level.
"God," he moaned, and Julia saw his cock jump in anticipation.
She had observed before that her parted pussy smiled, her powder-pink tongues hanging lewdly from between her furry lips, juicy and glistening, surrounding her broad, low, hard clit. But that wasn't where the all the action was, she knew; it was always nice to have Lenny's cock in her deep crack. She brushed her cunt across his chin teasingly as she lowered herself onto his meat, taking pleasure in the sensation of his bristly beard against her hot twat.
"Ahhhhhh," they sighed in unison. They had so few chances to be together that every joining must necessarily be good.
Julia wrapped her legs around the eager Leonard and crossed her ankles, beginning to rock back and forth as she did. Caught up in the tempo, Lenny joined her. Every movement around his pecker brought her to the brink of cuming. Far out, she thought. She wondered why they hadn't tried it before.
Leonard grunted with every stroke, each stroke immediately followed by a wet "schlurp" from her cunt. It was music, she decided. What a beat!
She twisted herself to and fro, brushing her nipples lightly through his beard. What a treat! "Leonard," she encouraged him, "you're a dear. I've been needing to get my rocks off."
"I hope you're fixing to!" he puffed. "I know that I sure am!"
Indeed she was. She was getting different waves than she was accustomed to getting, but her warm tingles were enjoyable and climactic nevertheless. "I'm about to cum," she admitted. "How much longer do you think you'll be?"
"About two strokes," Lenny replied.
He was mistaken. It took four, but Julia suddenly felt him blast off inside her, felt cords of cum climbing to her Adam's Apple. The searing contacts of the cum-globs combined with a few last hard pushes made Julia cum, too. After two weeks of abstinence, she was practically delirious with pleasure. She may have had Lenny's cock a few times, but not often enough to jade her.
Unwilling to break their deep contact at first, Julia became even more so when she realized that the dork she had ridden to heaven was still every bit as hard as it had been when she first took her seat. "Ready for another go, Lenny?" she asked hopefully.
"Of course! What else am I going to do with this thing?"
Julia grinned. "Gidyap," she cooed.
Julia Dukes was raised a good Jewish girl: ethical, prim and moral. She got along well with her parents, who were straight but tolerant, but there came with Lenny Franke the time for breaking away. That time had come once or twice before she met him, but never on a large scale. Yes indeed, she recalled gleefully, "cum" it had!
She didn't find anything wrong in fucking with Lenny. He was intelligent, attentive to her and seriously interested in her. He had had the pleasure of taking her cherry. Why not? He'd had to take her out for nine months to earn it.
She stepped out onto the doorstep and was gratified to hear the familiar whine of Lenny's old track as it struggled up the hill to her house. He owned a car, too-a late-model coupe, but preferred to drive his truck most of the time. The red truck appeared over the hill and turned into the driveway.
"Howdy, Jule," he called jauntily.
"Howdy," she returned.
"Got the shit?"
"Uh... yeah." She crossed the yard and clambered into the old beast and pulled her door shut. "Dammit, Lenny," she scolded, "keep your mouth shut about that. If my parents ever caught me with this stuff, that would be it. I'm not kidding you. If they could send me to military school, they would."
"Sorry," he said, and she instantly forgave him. "Roll a few while I drive, will you?" he suggested.
Julia pulled the plastic bag of grass out of her purse and set to rolling a quantity of joints. Balling and smoking, not necessarily in that order, were the best combined pleasures she had ever experienced.
"Where are we going?" she asked. As long as it was fairly close, she didn't care. She was horny.
"Down to Stuart's apartment. He's going to be gonehe has to take an Army physical tomorrow, so he and a few other guys are going to go out and get plastered and stay up all night. He doesn't want to pass." They laughed. Stuart Goldsmith was always getting into some kind of trouble!
He and Leonard had been friends for most of their lives, which was amazing considering how different they were. Lenny was practical and lazy, without an artistic bone in his body, where Stuart was a dreamer but a hard worker and aspiring artist. The biggest difference between Lenny and Stuart, however, was that Lenny got into Julia's pants and Stuart did not.
In a matter of fifteen minutes Leonard parked the truck in front of a rambling old ex-mansion converted into a cheap apartment building. Stuart had, of course, given him a spare set of keys to the building, so the doors were quickly dispatched and in less than another two minutes they were in Ms apartment pulling the bed down out of the wall.
"Play with my tits, Lenny," Julia invited. Lenny gladly serviced her.
It felt great to be touched there-her hands, her arms were constantly being touched but her tits always longed for a nudge. And they were such nice tits, too, large with surprisingly small puckered yellow-ochre nipples that were erotic and freaky, not ugly. Her stomach tingled as he caressed her-she was quickly getting quite hot without any dope at all.
She reached out and ran a hand over Lenny's torso. She stayed away from his cock, though. She wanted him to save himself, and knew that he was already rock-hard in his shorts. They didn't get to fuck every night-they had to wait excruciating weeks and even months some times. Every chance they had, though-look out!
Warming up as she was, she motioned him away. "Hold it for a second. Let's get into the right clothes for this job."
"Yeah," Lenny agreed. He started to strip off his own clothing heedlessly as Julia did-likewise.
She had been correct, she saw-Lenny's cock was fully erect and of that delicious tomato-red color that she loved to nibble on. Mmmmmm, this was going to be good-it had been two weeks since their encounter at the transmitter; too long, she thought.
Lenny backed her slowly against the wall, Ms hand playing at her ass, cupping and jiggling her smooth cheeks. He was all over her. He was such a puppy-dog, she thought as he kissed her forehead and pressed his pecker against her trim tummy.
Suddenly his strong hands lifted her off the floor and then lowered her onto his cock. She moaned from her bowels, abandoning her momentary surprise to pleasure. She seemed to be filled to the brim with cock.
"I'll give you about twenty minutes to quit that, Lenny," she warned as she leaped up and down on his prong like a stick-puppet.
"I refuse," he assured her. "Admit it. You love it."
"I love it," she sighed with feeling.
Her lolling boobs bounced, against his chest as Lenny skillfully rotated his torso so as to roll the breasts about on their bases. Mmmmmm-mmmmmm! she savored the sensations.
As they both came near to cumlng, Lenny started to tickle her. What the...?
Without missing a stroke he tickled her alongside her breasts and behind her ears. "Dammit," she laughed, "cut it out!" Lenny was inventive for a near-virgin, because even as she half-heartedly tried to stop him, the tickling was enhancing her arousal. She could hear the wet gurgling from their union that meant she was brimming with orgasmic juices, every part of her flooded with a rising tide of stopped-up, pent-up release, She would be cuming soon... she abruptly went rigid as she came once, then, as Lenny kept pounding her, a second and third time. It was too bad that men couldn't do that as a matter of course, as girls could.
Finally she felt Lenny blow his load in her cunt and she came a fourth time as the warm sperm filled her. How could sex ever be improved? "Far out," she muttered.
"You're great, Jule." Lenny flattered her as he removed himself. "You know it?"
"Yes," she admitted. "Let's smoke a little dope and try that again."
They wandered over to the bed for the first time and took cross-legged seats at its center facing each other. Julia rooted around in her purse for the joints she had rolled and, finding one, lit it, took a pull and passed it to Lenny. Back and forth went first one, then another, then still another jay until the pair was soaring. Lenny touched her breast-brushed it, really-as he shifted position and it felt to her that she had been touched all over; every nerve relayed the feeling of the gentle brush. She watched Lenny lay on the mattress then roll to a position between her legs. He started to kiss and lick, to her delight, the insides of her thighs, then worked his way inevitably up to her cunt. Every feeling magnified itself. She was suddenly one big, hot cunt, and in a few laps was bound hell-bent toward cuming. She wrapped her arms together under her tits and squeezed the melons together. Looking downward toward Lenny's bobbing head she saw her tiny, tactile nipples transformed to spiking points. She was floating.
"Come here, Lenny," she murmured. "It's my turn."
"Uh-huh," he conceded and crawled upward beside her, positioning his cock near her face.
She rolled onto her side and nibbled on the head of his flaming hard-on, biting it and pinching it to Lenny's satisfied sighs. The sensations of his warmth on her lips engulfed her. She wanted him to cum, wanted to taste it, lick it. She brought her hand to his cock and gently stroked it. It was a more certain way to bring on his climax than vigorous pumps would be. In only a few moments she succeeded in bringing forth a gluey gob of pre-cum, which she licked from his glans and swallowed greedily.
Lenny, as well-ripped as she, merely lay back and enjoyed, occasionally watching her with satisfaction. He made no move to operate on her, but Julia didn't mind. She was excited and nearly completed without him.
She could tell from the spreading redness of his cock that he was about to cum. She aimed his cock at her nose and gave it a feather stroke along the bottom. "Unh!" he grunted and shot his load in her face. It doused her lips and dripped off her nose onto the sheets. Happily she licked out with her tongue, devouring all she could reach, wiping the rest off reluctantly and licking it from-her palm.
"It's delicious," she said. "My compliments to the chef." Lenny grinned as Julia clamped her thighs around her hand and quickly completed herself. Between the dope and the orgasm she never wanted to come down! But she was ready to get higher again! And she had an idea...
"Lenny," she pleaded at length, "talk to my cunt."
"What?"
"Talk to my cunt."
"Why?" He wasn't surprised, apparently, just curious.
"It's lonesome."
"I don't see how it could be," he quipped, then grinned and rolled over. "Okay," he said. "I'm game for anything."
Julia lay on her back and drew her knees up and apart, spreading her damp, cum-oozing cunt for its lecture. Lenny positioned himself between them, his head propped on his elbows.
"Hello, Cunt," he said. "I wanted to tell you what I think of you." He paused and thought it over, then said "I pity you, Cunt, I really do. You obviously have no ambition, or you would have been an arm or a leg by now, but you're still just a lowly cunt. I hate you. You're degrading yourself and everyone who associates with you by your very existence." Lenny was starting to seem really hostile. Julie found it exciting, could feel her pussy slick itself with desire and at the same time satisfaction of its desire. Lenny took his head from his palms and scowled darkly, pointing and gesturing at her crack. From the movements of his hips, Julia surmised that he, too, was excited and was fucking himself off on Stuart's sheet. He must really be into it.
"You're wretched, cunt. You think that just because no other part of the body will handle your job, you're so great? Maybe with all the pieces you are, but if this young lady decided to move her clit, say to the palm of her hand, what have you got? Two holes and a lot of superfluous pink shit, that's all. It's not impossible to imagine all this hair growing someplace else, baby, so don't take that as an indication of your worth. That leaves you the dubious pleasure and notoriety of being the only organ that carries piss. Yes, baby, I said piss. Piss... PISS! And at that you do a shitty job. This young lady has a rough row to hoe. It's a big fucking production the way you handle it. She has to take off half of her clothes and get all bareassed and then she has to squat down or sit down or some fucking thing so that everyone in the world would know she was taking a piss if she decided to do it on the street-corner. And then," he raged, "she's gotta have t.p. or a rag or use her underwear or something because you leave a mess behind. You call that efficiency? If you were mine, I'd fire you. I'd say get the fuck out of here and don't ask me for a reference, you rotten cunt!" Lenny was screaming and waving his arms like a demagogue as he abused her pussy. A drop of cunt-juice rolled out of her bush and down below to trickle over her ass-hole and onto the bed.
"And," Lenny stormed into his finale, "as for that misshapen cave called a vagina that you seem to find so valuable, I don't. I can get a blow-job anytime or jack off, and the fact of the matter is that I don't need you, and neither does anyone else! Why don't you go away? Go back where you came from. You're a parasite, Cunt! I HATE YOU!" His tirade over, Lenny paused and in the quiet moment, Julia whispered "Fuck me, Lenny." Her voice was taut and urgent. She was high two ways.
Lenny crawled forward, positioned himself and plunged his cock brutally into her, pounding her. "I hate you, Cunt, I hate you," he muttered. "Take that, and that, and THAT!"
Julia came twice in rapid succession and built toward a third which she and Lenny shared, bouncing wildly on the fold-down bed. Julia was amazed that his load seemed to fill her again after cuming twice before, but fill her it did. The cum forced its way out of her cunt and slicked the meeting of their bodies. She couldn't quit cuming, it seemed-one continuous orgasm roared through her like a flood as opposed to climax after climax. She felt as though she were literally flying, felt the gravity pull switching from her back to her feet as though she were suddenly upright.
With a start and a loud but painless crash, she realized that she was. Hers and Lenny's bucking had apparently unsprung the ratchet that held the bed down and the strong springs had folded them into the wall. Julia heard her cunt schlurp as Lenny pulled out and heard him swear to himself. "This is quite a trip," he noted. He shoved on the bed, trying to force it back out. He wedged himself between the mattress and the wall and pushed futilely. "Shit."
"I'm scared," Julia confessed. "What time is it?"
Lenny extricated an arm from the cramped quarters and looked at his watch. "Almost four. If we can't get out, Stuart will be home soon."
"Yeah." He shoved again at the confines but was still unable to budge it.
"Maybe," he suggested, tongue in cheek, "If we fucked again and got rambunctious, we could get back down."
"Maybe." She must be a nymphomaniac, Julia thought. The idea excited her in spite of her predicament... her ears detected the rasp of a key in the front door.
"That's Stuart," Lenny said.
Julia was about to call out, but heard several voices and changed her mind. If some of his drinking buddies were with him, she didn't want to show them her all. Stuart maybe... she listened to their conversation and her amusement changed to horror.
"Officer," she heard Stuart say with exasperation, "you've got the wrong man. I am not a heroin dealer. Have you tried next door?"
The Man had fingered Stuart as a... heroin dealer? Absurd! "Listen, punk," snarled a Mickey Spillane voice, "don't give me no horseshit. We got two tips on you on the T.I.P. line, and that ain't no coincidence.
"It's somebody's sick idea of a joke," their friend asserted. Lenny leaned forward and whispered "That's a tough rap that he's being framed for. But it's ridiculous. They'll surely see that."
Julie wasn't so sure. "Let's have the shit, punk," said the second cop voice.
"Search the place, officers. I have no dope on these premises anywhere."
"We'll do that; kid. Frank, you search the joint while I guard this dope fiend. Check the fold-down bed firstthey hide it there all the time."
"Right, Joe."
Two months, two nights in jail, a day in court and many long, useless, tearful hours with her family terminated in her admission to Maxwell. Stuart was cleared of the dealing rap, but he and Lenny had been booked on morals charges and she on possession. Her one-year suspended sentence was to be spent in a prison nevertheless-Maxwell.
She had three months to go, she tallied. Or was it two? Hmmmmmm. Maybe she ought to pay more attention to the math class after all.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jan Durgood furiously shoved the pillow between her legs and squeezed it tightly between them. She held her muscles taut and could feel the familiar ecstasy deep inside her, multiplying through her every cell. She reached inside her panties from behind and thrust a ringer into her ass-hole as far as she could as she rode her pillow across
the bed. She fucked herself with it the way she wished a cock would fuck her hot hole. Damn, she wanted to get laid!
She came hurriedly in the midst of the tossed blankets and linen on her private double bed. She was momentarily sated, but not forever.
It was all that schmuck Burton's fault, she thought hatefully. In a lot of ways he was groovy-he had a sporty car, a good mind, and no end of money to spend on the things that she liked to do. But there was one pleasure they could share for free, and he wasn't giving her any. In that way, Burton was a real drag.
Her parents, owners of the famous Durgood Theater chain, had set her up six months before with Burton Pressler as a blind date. He was rich, she was rich. Things were "arranged" for rich children lest their childish open-mindedness lead them to romance outside their "caste".
So like she said-Burton was okay. For a while. But now, after six months, she wanted something more than a goodnight kiss. Every time they were together she hinted at it. She went without a bra-any trick to get Burton aroused. Well, she corrected herself, to get him the right track. He was always aroused! He got a hard-on just holding hands!
Well, she thought, this horsehair was over and done with now. She was tired of spinning her wheels on a dud like Burton. She knew that they were never going to make it to the mattress if she hadn't succeeded in bedding him that evening...
"Hi, Burton," said Jan as she opened the door. "Good to see you." She could see behind him that he had brought his sporty foreign car. She liked the way it looked in the circle drive of her house.
He was wearing blue jeans, as she was, and a tee-shirt.
A cultivated slob, she noted. With amusement she saw that he was already getting a hard-on. He hadn't even touched her!
"Hi," he said and crossed the threshold. "What's going on?" God, she thought, he broadcasted tension. He was planning every word ahead of time, seeking to make just the right impression. He was so stiff!
She wondered what his real personality was like. Horny, she knew that much. It showed through his foppish veneer.
"Where's your mother?" he asked. "I ought to say hello to her."
"Don't bother," she admonished. "She and Dad have gone to the show, then their going to one of those all-night cocktail parties. My brother has a date for a change, and my little sister is spending the night at a friends house." In other words, fuck me! I'm all alone and there's no chance of our getting caught.
"That's too bad. Is it all right for me to be in?"
"Of course, silly. They trust us. They aren't like some parents who check up all the tune."
"I'll try to justify their faith."
"Sure," she said.
He wrapped her up in his arms and met her eager lips with his cool ones. She'd had to show him how to kiss her, the twerp, and he hadn't added any variations to the first awkward kiss they'd shared since she'd known him. But she liked it-at least it was some physical contact! She was always horny anyway-she needed every touch she could get. As she tried to bring the corpse she was kissing back to life, she thrust her tiny breasts against him and rubbed herself surreptitiously against his erection.
He broke the kiss at last and sauntered toward the living room. "Would you like something to eat?" Jan suggested. My cunt, perhaps? "We have ham and leftover steaks and things... come take a look in the refrigerator."
"Okay," he agreed and followed her to the kitchen.
She pulled the door of the side-by-side open and let him examine its contents. He stepped back at last and turned toward her.
"What," he asked, "would be the possibility of getting a ham sandwich?"
"I'd be happy to make you one," offered Jan. How about a nice tit sandwich? With mustard?
"Fine," Burton nervously accepted. Damn his ass, Jan fumed. He was the jumpiest, most condescending, most offensively inoffensive single individual that she had ever met. She held her tongue, though, and buried herself in the refrigerator-leaned into it.
She was wearing an orange dress with an Empire waist that made her negligible titties look their best. She intentionally leaned over gracelessly so that the hemline rode practically to her waist, baring her scantily-covered ass and the swell of her cunt-bun under the cotton cloth. She looked over her shoulder, hoping to catch Burton's eyes staring at her tushie. Though he sat on the sideboard directly behind her, he had his eyes averted. Jesus. The time had come for some action, She closed the doors of the icebox and carried the plate of ham to the counter and set it next to Burton. "Burton," she said, gazing deeply into his eyes, "come in the living room. I think we ought to have a little talk."
"I wasn't looking, Jan," he assured her hastily. She nodded.
"Come in the living room," she repeated. She was going to let him have it in at least a couple of ways. She wasn't sure that he could take it in either one.
She guided Burton to an easy chair, then stepped back into the center of the room, facing him. Burton eyed her as though he were expecting a blow-his glance was sidelong and his head ducked slightly.
"Burton," she said, "I've been dating you for six months now, and there are a few things about you that I don't know. Would you mind telling me a few things?"
"No." he replied hesitantly.
"All right." She was trying to be patient with him. "First of all, Burton," she prodded as she started the dress's zipper down from her neck, "are you okay? I mean, do you like girls?"
"Sure." Burton looked horror-stricken. His hands clenched at the arms of the chairs and he sank deeply into the cushions.
"I'll accept that," She dropped her dress and stepped out of it, clad only in her undies. She unhooked her bra and dropped it on top of her dress, then posed for him with her arms behind her head. "Do you know what those two things are, Burton?"
"They... they're your... mammaries."
"They're my tits, Burton," she reproved him. "Do you know what the darkened spots in the center are?"
"N... nipples."
"Very good. Aren't they a nice brown color? Tasty? Do you know what it means when they get swollen and throbbing like they are?"
"It means that you're... sexually aroused." he stammered. He looked like he wanted to be sick. That was a bitter pill!
"Also very good," she approved evenly.
"Listen, Jan..."
"Shut up, Burton," she shushed him sweetly. "I'm not done." She pulled her panties off and added them to the pile of garments. "Okay, Burton. Do you see all that hair? Do you know what that covers?"
"Your pudendum?"
"My cunt," she corrected, harshly. "You and I aren't speaking the same language. But then, we haven't been for quite a while.
She threw her legs apart and cocked her hips back to spread her cunt, then thought better of it and sat instead at Burton's feet. Again she parted her legs and opened her cunt wide for him. He was looking away again, goddamn him!
"Burton!" she screamed, "look at me! Look... at... me!" He was too frightened to do otherwise. "Do you see my cunt? How pretty and pink it is under all that nice brown hair? Isn't that great?" She looked up at Burton for a reply. "Dammit, isn't it?! "
The boy gnawed a knuckle and nodded.
"Do you see how glossy it is, that pink part? How some of the hair is even wet? I didn't wet my pants, honey. That wet stuff is a whole new ball game. It means that I'm hot. It means that I'm... aroused. IT MEANS, YOU SCHMUCK, THAT I WANT TO FUCK!"
She reached for her snatch and parted her cunt even further to reveal her clit and the entrance of her hole. "There are two more things on "this side'. " She pointed to her hard clit. "This button here is called a clit. It's very sensitive-sort of like your eternally-hard pecker. I've noticed, believe me... below that is my hole. You would probably call it a vagina. I wouldn't. That's where cocks go-as many and as often as I want, which is often, honey."
She rolled over and onto her knees, her rear to Burton. "This is my ass. You have one, too, but I'm sure it isn't as nice as this one. Look at it. See how smooth and white and round it is? I love to have my ass touched. Usually I have to touch it myself while I touch other places, wishing for a cock.
"And here," she parted the cheeks and wiggled her ass at him, "is my ass-hole. You might associate it exclusively with nasty things, but, Burton, you're wrong. If you play with it while fucking, it feels good. That's the name of the game. Stick your finger in my ass-hole, Burton."
"No," he mumbled feebly. "No."
"Burton," she reprimanded, rolling over again, so that she was sitting wide-cunt in front of him, "I want you to fuck me. Right now. Right here on the floor. I won't be young forever, and neither, I might add, will you. Now, you've had a non-stop hard-on for as long as I've known you. So do something with it!"
"No," he muttered.
"BURTON!" she shrieked at the top of her voice, "I WANT YOU TO FUCK ME, GODDAMMIT! YOU DON'T HAVE TO FUCK AROUND WITH TRYING TO SEDUCE ME! I WANT YOU TO FUCK MY PUSSY WITH WHATEVER YOU CALL A DON'T GIVE ME ANY HORSESHIT!"
"No," he repeated firmly, calmly. "What of your parents, Jan? I couldn't betray them."
"You pansy, I want a cock, and I want one right now! I demand it! I've never asked you for much, but I'm asking now! No, I retract that. I'm not asking. I'm demanding!"
"No."
"All right," she seethed through clenched teeth, "you just sit there and watch while I fuck myself. This is what I do three times a day because you won't fuck me. Do you know what it's like to be so horny that you can't think or study in class, that you have to fuck yourself three times a day? Do you know what it's like to wait for classes to break so that you can run to the toilet and cram both hands into your cunt? You couldn't! Or maybe you could... Watch this, Burton."
She lay back on the floor and thrust three fingers into her hole, fucking wildly while she manipulated her clit with her thumbs. She was gratified to note that Burton was shocked. "My God, Jan," he gasped, "you... you're masturbating!"
"Right you are, Burton," she returned gleefully. "And loving every minute of it!"
She was, too. She had gotten herself so sexed up trying to get Burton to unwind that she was actually very near to cuming. She hadn't been lying to that four-eyed twerp-she really did have to finger herself three times a day-like meals. It actually excited her to know that Burton was watching. She feverishly pulled and pounded her cunt and squeezed her clit ferociously. Cunt-juice ran between her fingers. She was being messy, she knew, but that was the name of the masturbation game.
It also pleased her to note that Burton was not looking away as he had been, but was staring raptly at her cunt. His cock was still firm, she saw, but was surprised to see not one but two spreading stains near the slash of his pocket.
That son of a bitch! she fumed. He'd rather cum in his pants twice than fuck her once. That was a fine kettle of fish!
In a flurry of rubs, pokes and massages, Jan came wetly into her palm. Sated, she prostrated herself on the carpet, her ass toward Burton. She allowed herself several full minutes of satisfied euphoria, then rolled back to her ass.
"You, Burton," she commanded, "hit the fucking road. What would my Dad say if he found you here?"
"I can well imagine," he said dryly, "considering your present state." He was so smug!
She refused to rise with him as he stood to leave, but glared at him and raised her middle finger. "Bye, child," she sneered cruelly.
When he had gone, she had nothing to do with the upraised finger, so she shoved it back into her twat. She felt warm almost immediately-thanks, Burton, she thought.
Jan ducked an especially large wave that was about to break over her head and came up sputtering. God, she mentally sighed, that one nearly had her. She'd have to keep her wits about her and off of sex for a change. It wasn't normal to be so horny.
She pulled her fine dark hair back out of her eyes and turned just in time to see the monster wave breaking above her. She couldn't dive this one... instinctively she ducked and tried to flatten herself against the sandy ocean floor. She felt the powerful suction wrench her from her prone position and hurl her into a series of somersaults that ended with a stunning crash to the bottom again.
She stood unsteadily a few yards from the beach and was flattened a second time by an already-broken but still .powerful wave. Again she picked herself up and staggered beachward. Her head hanging in exhaustion, though, she saw that.... . . her bathing suit was missing. Entirely. She had lost the skimpy two-piece suit in the wave.
"My God," she muttered, "I'm naked!" She pivoted quickly and splashed back into the brine.
Now what was she going to do? she wondered as she swam to deeper water, where the waves swelled without breaking. She'd have to stay in the water most of the night to avoid being spotted, and if she were arrested or something, her parents would disown her. They were visiting relatives up the coast a bit, and rich children simply did not go running naked through the ocean. Although, she noted, in her present spot there wasn't much she could do about it. She sighed. There were lots of disadvantages to being rich.
"Hi," a friendly voice from behind her said. She looked up suddenly to see a tanned boy in what she guessed to be his early twenties riding the swells astride his surfboard. He dangled the bathing suit in front of her face. "Lose this?" he asked.
"Where did you get that?"
"I was riding the big one. I saw you fall, and when I got to shore I found your suit on the nose of the board. Actually, I wasn't completely sure it was yours until you started to come out with your clothes off. You have," he squinted his eyes as if he had trouble remembering, "small, firm tits, brown nipples and brown pubic hair, and, as you ran back in, I saw a very nice little ass. All in all, you didn't look too bad." The boy was smirking, but out of genuine amusement, she felt sure-not showing-off. Jan couldn't find it in herself to be mad at him.
"Thank you," she said. "I'm glad you enjoyed the show. Can I have my suit back, please?"
"Sure." He obligingly handed her the bikini. "My name is Charlie Wright. I'm a tramp, beach ass, lecher." He smiled lewdly at her and she felt her cunt contract pleasureably. It's the water, she told herself.
"Mine's Jan Durgood," she told him. "Rich parents and a house in Seyville. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
Charlie was a hulking, tanned stud-like in the movies, she thought. She fantasized herself being raped, but knew that that would be impossible-he wouldn't have to rape her! Even since her strike-out with Burton the previous week, she'd thought of nothing but sex. She was in a permanent state of arousal.
She had formerly gone without a bra occasionally-her tits were hard and the nipples blunt and it was scarcely noticeable, but it aggravated her parents nevertheless. She'd had to quit because her constantly-bunched nipples became too conspicuous.
"Ever surf?" Charlie asked.
"No."
"I'll teach you, If you like. It's easy, really."
"Okay," she agreed. "I'm game."
"Good, Jan." He seemed genuinely pleased. "The first thing you do..." he launched into a detailed explanation of the sport.
Wouldn't it be wild, she ruminated, if she wound up giving herself to this guy? She was really very pleased with the idea-he was big, masculine and didn't look the kissy-sissy type, like Burton. He was an animal. And what better beast to take her virginity at last, if she still had one after all her own probing?
Of course, Charlie was poor. That was a trait that her parents would really hate, if they were ever to meet him... Another point in his favor, she tallied-she would really enjoy galling her parents. They were like Burton; nice, but they needed loosening up.
"Got it?" Charlie finished.
"Got it," she replied.
"Okay then. Let's give it a try."
By the end of the afternoon Charlie had developed Jan into a pretty good surfer, to her delight The light was fading as they slogged through the sand to the tent Charlie had pitched on the beach. It was full of knick-knacks of various kinds-odd items cast away by the sea that he had brought home-and it was obvious that he had been there for some time.
"Nice place," Jan complimented him. There was plenty of room to move and stand erect-it was a classy tent.
"Isn't it?" He pointed to a low cot just above the beach level. "This is where I sleep."
"Good. I'm glad to hear that you get a little-sleep, that is." Damn, she scolded herself. Why was she so nervous? She could feel a wet trickle in her bikini bottoms telling her that she was physically ready, and the time was right. It was what they'd come there for, though no words had been spoken of it. It was just, she thought, a matter of getting it straight in her head.
She took a breath and plunged in. With a quick movement she untied the strap at her back and let the halter fall to the sand, then she pushed its matching panty down and kicked it away. When she erected herself she saw that Charlie had done-likewise. Jan nearly came at the exposure.
Charlie's cock was one to match his body-big and masculine. The knob at the end of his flagpole was as large as a golf ball, the length mottled with heavy veins that pulsed under the red, inflamed flesh. His balls, she saw, hung low and away from his body; they, too, were large and firm-looking from her vantage. They must be full of good cum for her. She was flattered. The satchel that held them was thick with the reddish hair that covered his chest and set off his cock.
"There's your prize, baby," he said. Jan grinned and nodded as she stretched out on the makeshift bed and positioned herself as "ready". She threw her crack wide and felt cool air rush through its heat. It was about to happen.
Charlie approached from the end of the bed, crawled between her legs and plunged himself hi. Jan was surprised that it went in easily, without pain-her hymen must have been long-gone. Of course, she thought, if it hadn't been, it sure was now.
He slid himself out and in slowly as he held her gaze. It was hypnotic. It was great. Every stroke filled her to the brim and took him to the hilt, his muscled stomach and thick bush contacted her clit every time. In only three strokes she came for the first time with Charlie, though her next climax took eight. Her conical tits flopped and reverberated to their beat. Her third orgasm brought joyous tears to her eyes, and Charlie still hadn't gone off.
"Let me get on top, Charlie," she pleaded. "You deserve a rest."
He grinned. "Okay, kid." He pulled out, the rim of his knob causing her to shiver as it left her cunt.
She stood and waited for him to flip over, then climbed above him and held his bursting cock in position with her dainty hand as she slowly sat on it. Ahhhhhh, she silently sighed. The fit was a little tighter in that position, but still fairly loose-looser than she would have thought, anyway. She didn't want to lean too far back lest she crash his balls, but she liked the bristly feel of them against her ass. Fucking had been worth her wait.
She'd seen the movements in art films and effortlessly took over the job in real life, rolling back and forth, rocking sideways, jumping, shimmying up and down his oil-slicked pecker. The juice from her cunt ran down the shaft and into Ms bush where it matted the hair into intricate patterns. She came a fourth time and as she did felt him at last jet off in her hole.
"Ahhhhh," she sighed as the jerks of his massive organ nearly toppled her from her perch. The cum pounded against her delicate walls with tremendous strength and heat and further slicked their union as his cum overfilled her and cascaded down his prick mingled with Jan's cunt-juice. She hoped that he wasn't done for the night after blowing such a wad-she'd heard of men that were after a big explosion. She wanted to blow him.
As their rushes resided, she caught his gaze and asked "Could you cum again?" She made no move to relinquish her seat-she loved the full feeling of his cock inside her.
"I don't know if you noticed or not," he said, smiling, "but I'm still hard. You haven't had very many men, have you?"
She smiled and shook her head.
"Well," he yawned, "I've had a lot of women. But you know what? I think I enjoyed what we just did more than any other thing I've done. Do you take that as a compliment?"
"Yeah."
"like to try it again?"
"No," she replied simply, then laughed when she saw his amazed expression. "I want to give you a blow-job," she explained.
"Oh." He paused to let it sink in. "You have my blessing-if you like eating yourself."
"I fingered myself for a long time-I might as well take the next step." They laughed heartily as Jan erected herself up and off his pecker. It was slick with various juices, but still firm and hairy and red. She bent across the edge of the bed and took him into her mouth.
Never in her life had she experienced a bigger thrill, She could taste cum, she imagined-it was different from the less viscous cunt-juice that she had licked from her fingers many times before after her guilty probing that always left her wanting more.
She slid her head up and down on the pecker, tried with reasonable success to master the whore's trick of swallowing a cock-she managed to take him almost to the hilt in her mouth. She blew gently, then reversed and sucked on the shaft, alternating cock-sucking with ball-suckings and lickings. Into her mouth went each hairy testicle in turn, until at last she took both of them at once, filling her mouth. With her tongue stiffened she tried to reach between his clenched buttocks to lick his ass-hole but failed that and went back to manipulating his length.
For a beginner, she gave quite a good suck-off, making him wait when he was near cuming but never letting him soften. She had greedily swallowed four globs of pre-cum when she at last abandoned herself to 'making him cum in her mouth. With breathtaking dog-laps she drove him over the top and he spurted a spectacular load that shot down her throat of its own accord. She followed each jerk with a swallow and was pleased the she drooled not so much as a drop of his precious cum-she could, she thought, develop a taste for cum very easily.
Maybe the health-store in Seyville carried it?
"I'm pregnant," said Jan. Her voice was tight, though it had been loose only moments before as Charlie fucked her to orgasm. She had been balling him for months now, much to her parents' dismay-but if they thought they were dismayed by her dating a poor boy, wait until they tried this one on for size!
"You're what?" asked Charlie, calmly, evenly.
"I'm pregnant."
"That's what I thought you said." He paused. "It was bound to happen."
"True."
"What do we do now?"
"Well, I don't want you to marry me, and I don't want to marry you, God knows."
In spite of the situation, Charlie smiled and kissed her, patting and probing her ass as he did. "You've got a good head, Jan. Most girls would be demanding that I take the vow."
"Let's be realistic," she said seriously. "I love you. I assume that reverse is true, but get married! I'm sixteen, Charlie, and I know that marriage isn't the way you live. I know you've scored plenty since you've known me, but you've kept me well-serviced, and I'm satisfied. I wouldn't ask any more of you. But I haven't fucked anyone else, and now I'm pregnant. In short . ". do you know anyone who can abort the little bastard?"
"Yes."
"Good. Get in touch with him. What's his fee?"
"Steep."
"Can we split 50/50? Have you got it?" she asked. She was so practical sometimes that it amazed even her. She would have expected herself to react with panic, but after skipping two periods she was at worst resigned to the situation. Besides which, she could probably scrape up the money easier than he could.
"Sure, kitten," he assured her. "I can get it. No problem. I'll let you know tomorrow when to have the job done." He hesitated, then said "In the meantime, though, could you give me one of your great blow-jobs?"
"Only with the greatest pleasure."
The conversation ended when she wrapped her mouth around his cock and started to suck-neither one of them was capable of speech.
"I don't see how you could do this to us, Jan," Mrs. Durgood wailed. There were tears in her eyes as she paced the floor in front of her daughter. Jan's expression was blank. They'd been through this before.
"He must have recognized me, mother. I gave an assumed name."
The older woman rung her hands. "We'll have to leave town. Sell the theaters. Live like schleppers. I'll probably be able to get a job scrubbing floors..."
"Mother," pleaded Jan crossly, "stop this shit... I don't want to hear it. Nothing of the kind is going to happen and you know it."
"All right," her parent seethed defiantly. "All right, Miss Libertine, we'll see what happens. You may go." Jan started to move gracefully, slowly away, but her mother brought her up short. "But pack your bags, because your father and I have enrolled you in another school, and you're going to start there next Monday."
This was news. "What school?" she demanded.
"Where there are a lot of people like you, Jan, with whom you have a lot in common-no morals. And it's close to home. You'll have to live in, of course, but in case you mend your ways, which," she sneered, "I doubt-, you can always walk home."
"Do you mean Maxwell?"
"I do."
It was going to be a long school year.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dear Father Shauglinessy: Seyville, Main 98702 As you probably guess when you tried to locate me for services on Sunday, I have terminated my employment with the Jason Maxwell School for Girls. I, have hit the road. The place that I write you from is a commune perhaps 15 miles back into the wilderness from Maxwell, which is not exactly-shall we say?-centrally located itself. Indeed, I am quite a long way from civilizationyour kind of civilization, anyway.
It occurred to me late one night-last Wednesday-that I am still a young man. I'm well into my thirties, but I'm not ready to be put out to pasture quite yet, nor am I ready to be dead for the rest of my life, which is the way I lived as the Junior Spiritual Advisor at Maxwell. I am not an old man, and I probably never will be. Age and decrepitness are problems of the spirit. I'd say, Father, that you have a problem.
I'll relate the entire story to you, but first let me forewarn you that there are many, many mentions of sex. If you would like to burn this letter and pretend that neither the letter nor I nor sex exists, go ahead, or if you would like to whack off while you read, that's fine, too-I suggest you find a private corner. I would respect you more for the latter, believe me.
I'm not going to mince words. I've had enough of that shit-pretending that words are any more than just words. I'm going to say "cock", not "penis". I'm going to say "fuck" instead of "knowledge" or "intercourse". Compactness is the key, and this is a lengthy story.
When I was younger, I was the most evil little kid you could imagine. I played with myself about a thousand times a day, lied, ditched church and cursed. These seemed like no great crimes at the time, nor do they seem like very large crimes now, but I've had some bad tunes in the interim because I felt guilty. If I was the person now that I was two weeks ago, I'd still be in confession. I'd have a lot to add, too, after what happened Wednesday night, which I'll get to shortly.
So I masturbated. I rubbed my little pecker raw and loved every minute of it. I wish I had the stamina now for all those hard-ons. I didn't know much or care to know much about girls then-I just liked "stroking it".
I got caught by my father, my mother, two of my sisters, my grandparents and a great-aunt from Oregon, all of whom reprimanded me severely, but I didn't stop. After a few years I started associating hard-ons with girls.
I fantasized all sorts of girls, fat girls, thin girls, shapely girls, my sisters-all running around naked, touching themselves, me, or their boyfriends. I imagined a sea of nipples. My God, do you realize how many different kinds of nipples there are? They're like snowflakes-I doubt if any two of them are alike. And pubic hair-I got to love pubic hair. Black hair, brown hair, red hair, curly hair, straight hair, thick and thin hair, wispy hair in broad cracks, hair spilling down the legs, hair climbing to the navel. I could have cut it with a lawnmower and I spilled gallons and gallons of thick cum onto the carpet, across sepia-toned picture, into my hand, my shorts, my sister's panties. As sex! So glorious it was in fantasy, and not bad, I supposed, in reality.
One day, when I was fifteen, I was whacking off behind the garage when Olive Potter, the neighbors' daughter, chanced by. Olive was nearly twenty-very pretty with long blonde hair. It was always clean and straight and thick, and I swear to you that it hung to her ass. The bottom of her hair nestled in the hollow of her back, just above her round, curvaceous buttocks. I used to whack off all the time imagining what Olive looked like naked.
"What are you doing?" she asked, suddenly behind me. I was deeply into a vision of Mary Roach, the girl down the block, masturbating with a knockwurst and I hadn't heard her coming. She may even have stood behind me watching, because she didn't speak until my load started shooting onto the ground. I tried to stuff my pumping pecker back into my pants hurriedly, but it wouldn't go and all I succeeded in doing was getting cum all over my hands, my shirt and my pants. Damn... In view of the circumstances, I decided to be bold and meet her question head-on.
"Jacking off," I replied. She stifled a smile.
"I know. Does it feel good?"
"Yes."
"I'm happy for you. You really oughtn't do it in the open like this where people can see you."
"I do it here all the time," I assured her, "and this Is the first time I ever got caught." I hesitated, then begged. "You won't tell my old man, will you? He'd kill me-he really would. He caught me up in the bathroom one day with a French postcard, and he beat the living shit out of me." I was pretty nervous, but Olive only giggled. She had a very grown-up giggle-I guess she way pretty grown up. It reassured me a little bit.
"Of course not, silly. Don't the girls give you enough pussy?"
"Uh-uh."
"Do they give you any!" she asked pointedly.
"Sure," I lied. "Lotsa times."
"You must be a good lay."
"You'd better believe it." I was laying it on thick.
She giggled again in a very discomfiting way. "I don't."
"Then why don't you find out?" I bluffed.
"I intend to." This was like a bombshell. It took the wind out of my sails on the one hand, but on the other , ". even in my wildest fantasies I had never imagined fucking her. That was what she meant, wasn't it?
"Do... do," I stammered, "you mean you want me to do it with you?"
"I want you to fuck me."
"When?"
"Right now."
"Where?" I asked. "Here?"
"Of course not," she cut me down. "I caught you here-it would really be raw if we got caught here. No... We'll go to my house. My parents are gone."
She had to take me by the hand and lead me. I was stunned. I couldn't believe that it was happening, but I wasn't real sure that I was thrilled. After all, I'd given myself an image to live up to. Well... I'd read a lot of dirty magazines. Maybe I could fake it. And I'd seen Grace Martin's cunt up close once, so I could probably find the hole. I'd tried to fuck Grace, but it wouldn't fit. That's another story.
We got to her house and up the bedroom in record time. Olive started taking her clothes off right away, pausing every few minutes to shake that long hair of hers back. I started in on mine, too, but I was a little slower. I was nervous-aren't we all that "first time?" But even if I didn't know how to fuck, I knew one thing-I had an excruciating hard-on. It actually ached and I started fantasizing her cunt again, even as close to seeing the real thing as I was. I looked over as she pulled her bra off and spilled out her tits.
I almost came in my pants when I saw those milky white globes. And what nipples! They were wide and flat, a cocoa color but with high-standing centers. There were no edges to her points-have you ever blown up a hot dog balloon and twisted it in the middle? The part forward from the twist resembles her erect caps.
I saw pictures of tits all the time, but always stills. A still could never capture the fluid way that her tits jiggled every time she moved or the way I could actually see her nipples swelling with lust. She glanced at me, as I had just taken off my shirt, then went back to undressing. She was wearing blue jeans-they came off pretty quick, and she pulled her panties down. Wow!
I'd seen cunts before: my sisters' a few times, and Grace's, of course, but I'd never seen a truly blonde pussy. It was spectacularly beautiful. The hair shimmered and set off the little bit of her overflowing pink slash that I could see. I saw at first glance that her crack was widethere was a quarter-inch of pinkness showing where a crack couldn't even be seen on Grace. Or maybe Grace just had a small cunt-it was hard to tell. There was a little bit of the filmy slick-em that Grace had produced on Olive's box, and her pink lips glistened at me. I suddenly realized that I was drooling. I could hardly wait to get down to the real nitty-gritty. I shut my trap and dropped my pants and drawers, exposing my full hard-on. I was hot to trot, believe me, and we hadn't-even started the action. Olive grinned at me.
"Would you like to fess up before we start, Don Juan?"
I swallowed hard and hesitated before I ate humble pie and said, "I confess that I have not fucked a girl." It hurt to say it, and I felt like an ass-hole, but Olive didn't seem to mind.
"I know. Now that we have an understanding, we can have a better fuck. Remember that." I nodded.
"Okay."
"What you do," she instructed, the honesty case out of the way, "is lie on your back on the bed."
"Hmmm?" I thought there was only one way. Olive laughed again. That whore was forever laughing at me, but I was too horny to let it gall me.
"I want a good tight fit," she explained. "Your dick is kind of small." Boy, was that ever a nice remark. I ignored it, and did what she said. "Now, bend at the hips and stick your legs up in the air and about three feet apart." It was quickly done.
Father, you wouldn't believe the position that this girl executed. I've used it since, of course, and she probably has, too. I've seen it other places, but I was really stunned at the time. I know I would never have thought of it by myself.
She parted her thighs only a little bit and rested most of her weight on my legs and on her own knees. She had my feet under her armpits like crutches, but she stayed entirely south of my ass, and she carefully impaled herself on my pecker. I looked across my stomach and saw her thick pink lips, running wet, grinning widely and the light thatch darkened with wetness. Her cunt felt warm and slippery around my prick and I came just looking at her. Olive sighed.
"Jim," she said, "you must control yourself. I have rocks I have to get off, too." She made no move to break our union, though. I felt myself getting soft but as I gazed at that pussy I got quickly hard again.
"Now you're talking," she approved. "Just lie still and take it easy, and we'll work this thing out."
Of course I couldn't wait. There's just something about being fifteen that prevents control. I was puffing and grunting and all kinds of things, flailing about wildly and fucking for Old Glory. We were joined for better than an hour while I came six times without satisfying her. At last she came. I could feel the hot walls of her cunt trying to suck me up inside her and I knew that she was there. I was elated-she had entirely worn me out. My cum was all over everything-I didn't think I could have produced so much cum. Olive vanished into the John and returned with a face cloth, with which she wiped first my pecker then her oozing crack. It was probably her brother's bath cloth, but that was his problem. When she had finally wiped me clean of all my fluid, I started dressing.
Two hours earlier I could not have imagined a time when I wouldn't want to fuck, but I had reached that point. My cock felt like it had done ten rounds with a Mixmaster, and it probably had deep inside Olive where I couldn't see. She didn't bother to dress. I looked at her and even though I sure didn't want her, she was still beautiful-all that creamy naked skin, her tits, her cunt and her erotic hair boggled my eyes. I finished dressing and left.
I balled Olive a few more times in the weeks afterward. We made it in every way imaginable, take my word for it Olive was a regular marriage manual of creative fucking. After a few months, though, I got a job playing drums in a small bar with "Earl" Duke and his country band. About that time I met Amanda.
The hotel I was working was owned by a busty Mae West type named Yvette. After a few weeks of employment, it occurred to me that Yvette had a lot of steady female roomers with unsteady male companions, among them a number of local officials, a few miscellaneous Congressmen, three regional bankers and a Senator. Yvette was running a whorehouse.
Amanda was one of the girls, a retiring dusky belle who never went a trick more than she had to-like she didn't like her job. We talked during the weeks, and I learnedverbally only-that she had nothing against fucking but had never cum by a client and didn't want to. Some of the men just wanted blow-jobs because their wives wouldn't blow them, but a lot of them were disrespectful perverts who wanted her to do really far-out things to them.
We finally made what was almost a business deal, though it was between "friends". She would teach me a few tricks in return for stud service-because I was an employee of the establishment, no cash would change hands. I'll tell you about one of our nights. Maybe you'll see why the celibate way of life looks so bad.
You've heard of leather freaks, I'm sure. Amanda wasn't one of them, I don't think. At least not exclusively, though she kept a lot of knowledge and equipment for those who were. She had a heavy, steel-sided suitcase under the bed in which she kept her "supplies". Among these were vibrators, dildoes, stockings, masks, leather goods and whips. She had about a dozen whips of various sizes and forms: cats, horsewhips and tiny whips for delicate places. After deliberation, she pulled a middle-sized thong from her pile and shoved the case back under the bed. The strap was long and the handle short, sweat-stained and worn.
"I'm going to instruct you in the use of this," she announced. "Watch closely."
She hurled the thong out violently at a chair, then twisted quickly back before it struck. The whip wrapped several times around the back and the very tip struck with only a tap. I was surprised.
"I thought you were going to cut that chair in half," I admitted.
She grinned..."All in knowing what you're doing. Watch again." She repeated the trick. "Okay. You try it."
I took the handle hesitantly and tried to imitate her. The first fling brought the strap down with a velocity that would have felled a rhino, but the second and third were better. It was in the wrist. My fifth toss was perfect. "How am I doing?"
"Good. Try to aim it. You see how the tip shoots up on the end? Try to get it to flip over the middle of the chair-back." I moved in and mastered this.
I started to see what she was getting at. If I were flogging a girl, I would be able to hit just the right spot. I practiced a little more.
"Excellent," Amanda encouraged me. Let's try some action. Take your clothes off."
By this time I'd been fucking long enough that I had no silly hang-ups about undressing. I remembered acutely how embarrassed I'd been taking my pants down in front of Olive and almost laughed as I and Amanda both eagerly disrobed. All she was wearing was a clinging shift-no bra or panties-and this she pulled over her head to become suddenly naked.
Amanda was the first black girl I'd ever seen in the raw. There were strap marks across her shoulders and I could see the plain outline of a bathing suit. Her floppy tits were lighter than the rest of her body, the nipples almost black and perfectly formed-beautiful, the same flawless shape I'd like to see a white girl match in pink. Thick wire-wooly cunt hair mad a shield from her navel to her cunt-bun and as she parted her legs I could see the good, old, familiar pink crack. Amanda was equal, okay.
"Try it on me, now," she invited.
I was hesitant, but did as she said. I wrapped the whip around her midsection, estimating my range and the aim of the tip that struck dully against her tummy. On my third toss I wrapped it around her hips and planted the tip just to the left of her cunt-mmmmmmm, I thought, I'll have to move in just a little. I was getting good at it though. The next time I coiled the whip around her and slipped the flailing tip through the slash of her cunt, to her delight. I could see that she was getting hot. She liked being beaten. It was sick, I thought, yet I continued to masturbate her with the tip of the whip, sometimes wrapping it around her shoulders and slapping the end against one of her nipples. I saw them swelling, lightening in color as they filled. I was getting very turned on myself.
I moved in a little closer and started going for the crack of her ass. I could feel it through the handle when I struck it, and could hear a delighted moan from Amanda. By giving the whip still more slack, I tried to poke at her ass-hole-I don't know if I ever hit it, but I was "hitting Amanda where she lived. She was loving it. Of course, I wasn't hurting her-at worst the whip left a pink mark, never a welt. But since she wanted to be abused, and I could see between her widely-parted legs that she was wet and hot, I stopped my flogging and grabbed her, wrapped my arms around her and hurled her onto the bed.
"Yes!" she sobbed.
I had a moment of inspiration then. I took the quarter-inch-wide tong of the whip and wrapped it tightly around my cock enclosing it from base to tip, then made a small knot near the throbbing knob that left about an inch of leather dangling from the end of the tube that enclosed my pecker-like a French tickler. Even Amanda, who had been around the world, looked at me askance. I only smiled.
As she parted her legs I took the handle of the whip and shoved it into her ass while I slowly plunged my armored cock into her. I don't know if she came when she felt that leather tongue deep in her cunt or not-she looked the part, though. I fucked her with long, hard, fast strokes as the leather teased her deep in her cunt while the added dimensions of my cock stretched her. I'd learned some control by then, but needed little since the leather deadened the stimulation. I could have made myself cum anytime but wanted to wait a while and make Amanda wait as well.
She was going wild beneath me as the cowhide tickler titillated uncharted places. I was getting turned on mostly by mental stimulation, but I was good and hot. When I surmised that she'd cum about three times I allowed myself to cum. I could feel the sperm fight its way up past its bonds and blow deeply into her twat; could feel her cum again, making it harder for me to move. It was at once agony and supreme delight. And that was just my first encounter with her!
All these things I was doing and enjoying started to bother me after a while, Father. I fell in, by chance, with some religious fanatics, and after a lifetime of enjoyable debauchery I took my vows at age thirty. I thought that I was happy as a priest-happier than I had been as a rake. What self-delusion! But let me tell you what happened last Wednesday; what brought all my nasty old memories and desires back in their proper perspective.
It was late at night, possibly ll or 12 o'clock. I was walking back to my quarters from a brief walk in the woods. I had been having particularly annoying trouble dedicating myself to celibacy and was contemplating whacking off, but opted for a shower instead. A cold one.
Father, I am a fairly attractive man. Sorry, honey, that's the way it is. I'm no cretin, except when I've got a funky haircut and have to walk around in a dress all day. I was walking across the flagstones of the courtyard and almost to the other side when four figures jumped out of the bushes, grabbed me, stifled my cry and carried me into the woods again. How many yards they carried me I have no idea but it was some distance-more than I would have given what I was soon to learn were four young ladies strength for, carrying a healthy and struggling priest. My thought was that I was going to be murdered, or perhaps raped, some young thugs haven mistaken my priestly attire in the dark for the maxi-dress of a student.
We reached a clearing at least and I was dumped unceremoniously to the ground. I tried to rise and run but was tackled. It was then that I heard a voice for the first time-a female voice.
"Don't run off, lover," she cooed. "We aren't here to hurt you." The other figures giggled and I realized that the lot of them were girls.
They pulled their hoods off and shook their hair loose, and in the dim light I could see that all were shapely creatures. My earlier horniness quickly returned-I wondered what on earth they could possibly want, and at the same time I imagined.
"Get the lantern, Cathy," instructed the apparent leader of the group who was a busty blonde, A brunette responded.
"Sure, Lois." She located an old oil lamp under one of the bushes, lit it and hung it from a low-hanging bough. The clearing was well-illuminated now, and I could see the girls.
There wasn't a dog in the lot. All of them wore jeans and navy turtlenecks-attractively tight ones. Their high young tits stretched the weaves to their limits. Much to my surprise as I lay, uncomprehending in the clearing, the girls started to remove their clothes.
"What's happening here?" I demanded.
"Ever heard of a gang-bang, Father? Well," explained the leader in a soothing voice, "that's exactly what we're going to do."
"I don't understand."
"Horseshit. You understand fine. Paula, Lambeth," she indicated two of the other girls, "strip his clothes off. I'm really horny, and I imagine you are, too." The other girls made sounds to indicate agreement.
This was due to be a highly embarrassing thing, I knew, and resisted. I had a royal hard-on, but it simply wouldn't do to show the girls. Cleric or not, my cock could be just as unruly as the next man's!
Between the four of them, though, they succeeded in stripping me naked and holding me down. Lois had the pleasure of pealing my last article of clothing off-my shorts.
"Well," she said with a satisfied smile, "wouldja take a look at this? The other girls, who were pulling the smock over my head, looked up at my erection. They laughed.
"He's as ready as we are, I see," said Lambeth.
"Yeah."
Well, Father, that's when I realized clearly that the life I was leading was not only wrong for me, but wrong for those around me. This life was responsible for the sordid kidnapping of which I was the object, if you catch my drift. This life was depriving these girls of any normal outlet and leading them to the depravity they were committing.
"You're right," I said defiantly. "I am ready."
Let me give you a run-down of the four: LOIS THOMAS: She had long blonde hair and white skin, almost pure white on her firm tits. When she was naked her small, dust-colored nipples pointed in different directions: one up, one down. She had almost no hair at all on her cunt and what little she had was close-cropped and covered little area. She wanted a straight fuck for her fairly tight crack, the slippery lips and longing hole of which were a very, very red shade of pink. She scared me when we balled-I found out the hard way that she was a screamer.
LAMBETH LOREY: She had short bobbed dark hair and a very sexy mustache. That may seem an odd description, but it was-she looked feline and crafty and uninhibited. Her tits were sharply pointed and her nipples the color of Lois's box. They weren't very big around, but stood high. She took the superior position of a straight fuck but had me eat her a little beforehand.
CATHY COMER: A little overweight with huge floppy tits and a hot, hot red crack. Her hair was jet-black and her cunt-hair straight and thick. On her tits were rich brown nipples that she loved to have me suck on and play with while I fucked her dog-style. I thought I'd get lost in her huge, oily, lippy cunt.
PAULA LERNER: Paula was probably the best-looking of the lot of them. She was a short girl with an unruly mane of red hair, a toothy smile and big eyes under wire frame glasses. Her voice was sort of hard to pinpoint-squeaky-raspy-nasal all at once, but cute. Also cute were her nice firm tits, but big with coffee-colored nipples. Her cunt hah" was the same color as that on her head, very thick and bushy, spilling down her legs a little and back over her tight ass-hole. She liked to have me fuck her cunt and her ass-hole together with my hand and ended up sucking me off in a way that was out of this world! Jesus, was she great! I gave her about two loads with one cum, she drank it all and still wanted more.
Her crack was very tight-possibly she was a virgin. At any rate, she didn't want me to fuck her even though she was wet and hot. What a yummy! I'd like to see her again.
We balled and switched off until four in the morning. I got dressed as best I could-there were a few tears in my clothes-let the girls back into their halls with my keys to the place and headed back to my quarters.
I had a lot of thinking to do. Between the next day and Sunday, I did my job, picked up my paycheck, and ran it over and over in my mind. That cunt Rexhaven came in while I was hearing confessions and told me about some more of her strange pussy. I was getting sick of that kind of stuff-maybe she made up my mind for me. At any rate I had my civvies on by the next morning and had hiked to the commune by the time the last mass was due to be over.
I dig it here, Father. There are more good people here than in the whole of the Church. They're gentle, unselfish, hardworking... every virtue you'd care to name, except chastebut that's a debatable virtue anyway.
As I write this there are two young ladies sitting next to me without clothes, as I am without clothes. One of them is fingering and stroking my pecker and, amazingly enough, it's getting hard again. Pardon me while I give her tit at good squeeze. Ahhhh, that felt good-for both of us.
Well, Father, Nancy seems to have given me an erection, so I'd best put it to use.
Peace and love, Jim
CHAPTER NINE
Ruthie glanced across the sleeping hall at Miss Rex-haven as she lay back on her bed-sprawled, reallyreading, and sniggered. The old bat had her legs spread about a yard and her long dress hiked way up. But then, after all the eyeballing the old whore did in the direction of her charges, maybe she figured that the girls were entitled to look at her.
Ruthie sat Indian-style on the bed in her bra and panties, trying to write a term paper. The noise of the rain on the windows distracted her, though-she didn't like the rain. It brought everyone indoors quickly so that there were no hand-jobs behind the bushes or volleyball games or gossip when classes were out. She was sure that Miss Rexhaven disliked the weather for the same reasons, since Ruthie had chanced to come in very early one day to hear the old bitch moaning and groaning on the stool with the bathroom door ajar. Sneaking up curiously she had glimpsed the headmistress slipping herself a hot-dog over Playboy magazine, her saggy tits bouncing like tetherballs to her ecstasy. She had never told Miss Rexhaven that she had been observed but had told all her classmates to their unending amusement.
Cheryl appeared from the opposite side of the room and sat on the edge of her friend's bed. Ruthie could see from the glint in Cheryl's eyes that something was afoot-she had a mischievous glint when there was. The last time, when they'd gotten "something going" in the linen room, Cheryl's eyes had had the same sparkle.
"Listen, Ruthie," she whispered. "What do you say we seduce old lady Rexhaven?"
Jesus Christ! Ruthie hesitated only long enough to wonder whether Cheryl was serious or not, decided she was, then whispered harshly back "Are you off your nut?"
"Huh?"
"If you were going to suggest that I eat you under the bed, I might be inclined to go along, but this... I Do you realize that she could get us flunked for the year, and we'd have to spend another 12 months in this place? We've only got three weeks to go!"
"Ruthie," Cheryl asserted stubbornly, "this is a good caper. Diane set it up."
This was like a Good Housekeeping seal of approval. She was willing to listen now. "Go on," Ruthie said.
"The next time that slut goes to the can, we'll walk in on her and catch her with both hands in her cunt, then we'll do it to her. Or more accurately, allow her to do it to us."
"Yecch."
"I agree," Cheryl nodded. "But we can also Suck around with each other. And Diane has a plan to insure that we don't get flunked. Blackmail, sort of."
Cheryl was fast wearing down her resistance to the idea-it was starting to appeal to her always-horny disposition, and Diane never got involved in a prank without planning it thoroughly, but there were still some questions to be asked. "What if the door is locked?"
"Diane has the key," Cheryl assured her. "Diane has a key to every lock in this place except the front gates, or we would have been out of here long ago."
"All right," Ruthie sighed and enlisted. "Just the four of us?"
"Yeah. Keep an eye on the prune, and when she moves out do-likewise."
"Right." Cheryl went back to her roost Ruthie glanced down at the crotch of her panties and sighed again-that was the third pair she'd stained today.
"Ruthie?" Mrs. Jenkins called. "Come in here a minute!"
"Coming, Mother," she called back. She was, too. Hastily the daughter pulled her panties up and her dress down, checked herself in the mirror then opened the door and stepped into the hall. The corridor and stairs were thickly carpeted and she made no noise as she padded down the stairs to the living room. She peeked around the corner and saw her mother sitting stiffly on the couch, her legs crossed, the raised foot tapping an imaginary floor. The old lady was aggravated about something, Ruthie knew. And she was fairly sure she knew what.
"Yes, Mother?" she asked meekly as she entered the room.
"Sit down." Mrs. Jenkins indicated the armchair facing the sofa. "I'd like to have a discussion about your laundry."
Oh, Jesus, Ruthie prayed, displaying an outward calm. The shit was going to hit the fan now! "Yes?"
Her mother took a deep breath and started in grimly. "Ruthie, as I do our laundry, I find in yours one recurring trait. There are stains of certain-shall we say?-bodily excretions on your sheets with astonishing regularityalways. That's pretty regular. I find the substance of these stains literally encrusting your underpants as well.
"I might venture to explain these excretions as the result of nocturnal emissions, but I know well that you were no panties to bed, yet I find your underwear stiff with this substance." She paused and softened her tone slightly. But not much.
"I know what this substance is, Ruthie. Let us not kid ourselves. This is sexual lubricant. I produce it-most women do. But not twenty-four hours a day, and I am married with reason for this... production." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.
"I realize, Ruthie, that you are an adolescent, and for that reason I have ignored this problem for some tune. I know that you are naturally interested in sex. I know also that you have few dates, and that your dates, fortunately, provide you no outlet. But," she paused to emphasize the point, "these voluminous discharges can stem from only one source..." she shuddered, "masturbation."
"When I was a young girl, I occasionally masturbated. Masturbation won't hurt you very much, but I fear that you are, perhaps, overindulging yourself?" Ruthie was silent.
Mrs. Jenkins settled back into the cushions and continued. "Ruthie, you cannot fool me. I raised you and I watched you grow up. I know almost everything there is to know about you. I know how often, for instance, you go to the toilet. Yet in the last few months you are seldom out of the bathroom for more than twenty minutes at a stretch, and once you are there you spend a long, long time. In addition, I seldom hear the sounds of any discharges, and you do not read magazines on the stool, so I must make another judgment. I have told you what that judgment is."
Ruthie's eyes were on the floor, but she could feel her parent's eyes boring into her. "I want to stop this nonsense, Ruthie. Use a little common sense. Exercise a little restraint. I shudder to think what must happen when you are away from home. I prefer to think that you are discreet enough not fall prey to temptation that way, but since you have no need to masturbate into your underpants when you are at home, I fear that perhaps you are taking any opportunity that arises, wherever you are and in whatever state of dress, to relieve yourself." She paused a last time, then said, "I hope you will seriously consider what I have just said, and I hope that this... disagreeable subject need not come up again. "You may go."
The next day, as Ruthie tried to learn history, she thought over what her mother had said, and decided that she would have to discard it. She'd simply have to wash her panties before they got into the laundry-the sheets she could ignore. She could fuck herself all night long, dripping and spilling on the sheets and blame it on uncontrollable wet dreams.
But right now, as she sat in the back of the class, she was dying for some sort of relief. She parted her legs just a little, felt the wetness of her cunt as she moved. Slowly, without moving any of her body save her hand, should anyone look back, she pulled the hem of her dress back several inches then placed her arm in the sling of the plaid furrow. In the hand she held a pencil.
Carefully she slid the pencil and the hand under the dress until the blunt tip of the eraser rested between the elastic leg band of her panties and the hot flesh of her thigh. She hooked the band over the pencil and pulled it to one side so that her slick, throbbing crack was exposed. Again with the eraser she parted her oily cunt lips and plunged the pencil deeply into her hole. Delirious with lust, yet retaining an impassive, attentive face to the teacher, she left it inside and drew another pencil from her notebook. With this she again parted herself, delighting in the slippery feel of the now-oily rubber against her sensitive cunt and prodded and stimulated her clit. It felt as though it would burst, yet she continued to worry it, setting her jaw lest she betray herself. Ohhhhhh! that felt so good! She couldn't even wait for the class bells to ring-she had to cum!
And in a matter of moments she did. She could feel her juices trickle hot and slippery between her buttocks as she slowly removed the pencils. She knew that her panties would catch it, but hoped that it wouldn't seep through her dress-that would really freak her mother out.
"Mother," Ruthie called, hearing the whine of her father's power saw from the basement workshop, "where's my douche?"
"I took it away," her mother returned matter-of-factly from the upstairs TV room.
"Why? I need to keep myself clean."
"Ruthie, we both know what you do with that douche. And you don't need to douche every day. I'm getting a little tired of this masturbation problem. It worries me. I fear that you might have some very bad problems, Ruthie dear. Those dreams of your disturb me, and they don't do much for my linen, either.
"Yes, Mother," Ruthie returned meekly. "I'm going to take a shower in that case."
"Do that. And keep your hands off yourself."
She wondered what her father would do if he found out about her little "problem". He'd hit the ceiling probably She thought that her mother was overreacting, but at least she hadn't told the old man . " , she didn't think so, anyway.
She locked the door behind her and started to undress in front of the mirror. If she wanted to get laid, she wouldn't have too much trouble-but she really didn't want to. Maybe there was a little of her Catholic training in her yet, but she didn't want to take the plunge. She doubted if fucking would alleviate her desire any-it would probably, she thought, only make it worse.
She finished her disrobing. Not bad, she approved. Nice little titties with a few freckles and nice little nipples, a furry dark bush on a rather large cunt, but it did the job, and a pert ass-a very petite, cute girl. She'd be a good if difficult conquest for someone. It was disturbing to note, however, that her self-examination was getting her sexed up.
Damn, she wished that her mother hadn't taken her douche away. That was quite a nifty device for getting her rocks off, and the warm water that she filled the bulb with for release at just the right time was so soothing! She sighed, stepped into the shower and turned on the spray. Back to her faithful fingers!
She started immediately to stroke herself with her hands as she had done so many tunes. She pressed her tits against the smooth, cold tile and tried vainly to flatten the erection of her nipples. If only she had her douche... it was sure nasty of her mother to take it away. Idly she wondered if there was anything handy with which she could replace it.
She ceased her pussy-petting momentarily to peek through the shower curtain, her eyes lighting on a variety of potential phalluses without finding any that was satisfactory. At last, scanning the sink, her gaze caught a fresh tube of toothpaste and the family waterpic.
Hmmmmmm, she mused. If she couldn't have genital hygiene, oral hygiene just might do the trick. Wet and shining she stepped out of the shower quickly to claim her prizes and hopped back in. The waterpic, because it was electric, she left outside the tub but snaked the long hose inside through a break in the curtain.
Seated on the floor of the tub she parted her legs and unscrewed the cap of the toothpaste. The first lip of the tube was flat and seamed, and she had difficulty stretching her virginal crack to make it fit. Finally, after some pleasurable straggle, Ruthie lubed the tube with soap and slid it slowly in. She took four inches of the tube that enlarged her cunt to its limit and started squeezing the mint-flavored cream to fill her box as she slowly removed the tube. If felt groovy enough just to draw the tube out-she caught herself several time just about to cum but contained herself. She wanted to get as much of the cream inside herself as possible.
At last she popped the now half-depleted tube past her tight pucker. As her cunt contracted pleasurably, some of the toothpaste spilled out, but most was still hidden. The mint that flavored it was stingy-cool on her cunt, an unequalled experience that made her lusty fires hotter. She reached through the curtain and turned the waterpic on as she thrust her mother's attachment, out of spite as much as arousal, into her ass-hole and kneaded her cunt-lips like bread, running a fist back and forth across her clit. She smeared the oozing toothpaste from her navel to her knees as she slid across the porcelain. The mint inflamed every inch of flesh it touched, pleasurably so, and her long-building orgasm fairly ejaculated a stream of toothpaste mixed with her own hot cunt-juice to the drain of the stall.
Her breath coming quickly and her boobs heaving, Ruthie withdrew the ever-pumping waterpic from her ass-hole and thrust it into her cunt, hoping to clean the burning cream out as much as get her rocks off. After another climax the fire began to abate-if she had another cum it might be gone. Wow, she exhilarated. That was a ride! She had been hot and literally burning at the same time! Sexually, she felt satisfied, but she knew that she would never be able to take that trip as a matter of course!
Suddenly the door opened and shut. Omigod, she mentally sighed, one of her parents had slipped the lock with a hairpin. Now she was in for it.
"Don't get out, Ruthie," her father called. "I want to wash my hands." In the fog of the curtain she could see that he had his back to her as he carefully relocked the door.
She wanted to cry, or move, or something, but couldn't. She could only freeze to the floor of the tub and wait for the inevitable. The waterpic was still lodged in her cunt, the box on the floor outside whirring merrily. Her father turned.
"What the hell is going on here?! " he demanded furiously, "Ruthie," he warned, "if your doing what I think you are..." Privacy and her sleek nudity notwithstanding, he threw back the curtain.
His lips curled in disgust and his eyes bugged at her in rage. She could only look up helplessly, once again in the throes of orgasm. "It feels good..." she squeaked.
He saw the toothpaste tube lying squeezed out beside her and the film of toothpaste on her legs and tummy. He grasped her methods at a glance. "You pervert," he seethed. "You fucking pervert! You're everything your mother said you were and more! Do you know what your mother would do if she found out about this?" Ruthie shook her head.
Interestingly enough, behind his snarl there was a hint of a leer, behind his outraged eyes a trace of... lust? Her own father? she wondered.
"I'll tell you, then," he offered. "She would put you out the door with your suitcase and a pair of fishnet hose to ply the trade of a hooker. That's what she'd do."
For some reason, maybe the afterglow of her orgasm, she was serene as she asked, "Are you going to tell her?"
"Yes," he replied triumphantly. "Unless you do something for me."
"What's that?"
"Suck me off."
So there it was, she thought. It was hard to tell which of them was the most perverted. Ruthie only nodded and reached out of the stall to turn off the waterpic, then drew the spray jet out of her cunt and left it hanging. Mechanically she switched off the shower, dried her hands, then erected herself on her knees to reach her father. He inhaled sharply as she caressed the bulge behind his fly where his cock was already erect, then she slowly lowered his zipper, reached into his shorts and drew out his cock.
From her reading, she gathered that her father wasn't badly hung. Nine red inches prodded her chin as she moved up on him clumsily, then took him into her mouth. Not sure exactly what to do under the circumstances, she took up sucking his hot prick like a lollipop-she may not have been pleasing him completely, but she was sure doing something. His cock bucked every so often in her mouth and the tip discharged a sweet fluid that she swallowed warily. She had read that his semen wasn't harmful, but she couldn't be sure until...
God, she told herself, this was so sick! Blowing her father, stark naked, bouncing her tits at him and leaving her cunt totally uncovered to him, like a whore instead of a teen-aged daughter. It was incest on top of sodomyinsult to injury. But worst of all, she thought, was that she was getting extremely horny into the bargain.
As a matter-of-fact, she was deliriously hot and her feverish suckings soon brought her father to the brink of cuming. He grabbed her by the ears and pulled her head down, down his cock, fucking himself with it. Angry and disgusted at last, Ruthie gagged and bit into his rod, wrenching herself from his grasp.
"You cunt!" he screamed and struck out at her open-handed. As she ducked his slap she felt warm droppings land in her hair and seep down to her scalp as she raised herself in surprise and caught a burst of cum squarely in the middle of her forehead.
"Haw haw haw," her father guffawed and he let the curtains meet again in front of her face. He laughed uproariously as he zipped up his fly and washed his hands at the sink. Ruthie was frozen in position, staring into space, then took a glob of cum from her hair into the sluice of two fingers and robbed it vigorously against her throbbing clit, bringing her speedily to a shower of repeating climaxes. Again and again she used her hands to squeeze her budding tits and ringer her tight ass-hole, seeking those places she knew so well all over her young body.
When the spasms passed and her breath returned, she turned the shower back on and carefully washed her father's cum away to make herself presentable. Maybe some of the cum had stayed behind, though-she swore her hair had never looked better.
Ah, there she went, Ruthie thought as Miss Rexhaven rose from the bed, stretched sleepily and padded in the direction of the John. The four girls immediately followed her while the other young ladies in the hall whispered among themselves-they were less adventurous than that foursome.
As the girls pulled up short at the closed door they heard the lock slide home. They waited for their headmistress to plunk heavily down on the seat and emit a satisfied sigh before Diane reached into the pocket of her dungarees and drew out her key ring, located the key then quickly threw the bolt back and the door open.
"Hi," said Cheryl.
Well, Ruthie thought, Cheryl had been right about one thing-they'd caught her with her hands in her cunt. Or, perhaps more accurately, one hand in her cunt. With the other she squeezed the bulb of her pendulous tit. She didn't bother to reposition either hand as the squad entered.
"What do you want?" she managed at last. "Can't you guess?" smirked Diane. "We want a little of that pussy you're keeping to yourself."
She hesitated, then her resolution hardened and she said, "You girl are depraved. Stop this nonsense and get out of here."
"Yeah," Diane returned. "We're depraved all right. This fucking place'll do it to you, won't it? So we ought to have a lot in common."
At this Miss Rexhaven eyed them suspiciously, wondering just how much they knew, Ruthie guessed. She hoped that Diane wouldn't tell her what Ruthie had seen-there were still 3 weeks to go, and she wanted them to be 3 bearable weeks.
"Miss Rexhaven," Diane continued, "we know a lot about you. We know what kind of sex you like best. That's why we're here-we want to sort of give you a going-away present, seeing as how we're going to be leaving you so soon." She started to remove her clothes and the other girls followed suit. Ruthie, the only one of the lot scantily dressed only in her underwear, stood tight until the other girls were down to their skivvies, then "got naked" in unison with her friends.
They were shocking the hell out of the old whore-Ruthie had to say that much. Since they'd abruptly appeared, the supervisor had worn alternating expressions of shock, horror, disgust and confusion. Now it was one of hunger.
The headmistress moaned at the exposure of their bodies and squeezed her bulbous left tit with lustmasturbating furiously as she did. She seemed to like watching the virginal Ruthie the best, for when she stared at her, her jaw dropped and she could scarcely contain a drool. In a way, thought the object of her lust, she was flattered, and in a way...
For once she decided to play the aggressive party. She parted her legs and pulled up her abdomen so that only her pink, wet lips dangled obscenely between her thighs. "Here it is, Miss Rexhaven," she said sweetly.
This brought a fresh volley of grunts and groans from the aging dyke. "My God," Pam whispered to her, "I knew she was gay, but this is more than even I thought!" With that, she moved forward from the Rockettes line until she was astride her seated jailor, her cunt spread open at chest level. "Finger me," she commanded. Miss Rexhaven obliged only too readily.
Watching the teacher's hand plunging in and out of Pam's slippery crack from the rear made Ruthie unbearably hot in short order. Glancing to her left, she saw Cheryl and Diane embracing and kissing each other, obviously as hot as she was. She turned her eyes back to Pam and the headmistress and eagerly found herself, plunging her familiar fingers into her crack and fucking for glory. She squatted in the corner, just inside the door, her cunt widespread and her motions feverish, It wouldn't-ahhhhhhh!-be too long until she came.
Meanwhile, Cheryl and Diane had dropped to the floor and were happily gobbling each other in a 69 position. Yes, all in all it was a happy crew, Ruthie noted. School may not be much fun, but the intramural, extra-curricular activities were great!
In only a few minutes all the girls had cum except Pam and Miss Rexhaven, who were still at it. Diane crawled to where Ruthie squatted in the corner, her fingers still lodged in her hole, enjoying the show.
"Lemme out," she whispered. Ruthie moved enough that Diane could slip through the most narrow opening of the door-she wondered what the leader of the clan had up her sleeve. Because of Pam astride her, Miss Rex-haven's eyes looked into Pam's flopping globes and she couldn't see the door. Maybe it was worth the precaution anyway. She giggled-she had an idea of what the plan might be.
A few moments later, Diane reappeared, motioned for silence and eased the door wide open. Outside were the rest of the girls from the hall who watched in amusement while Miss Rexhaven fingered both herself and Pam to an eerie tempo. Both were bucking on their respective perches and obviously near to aiming...
"Unh!" Yes, there went Pam. She could see her rush roll down the instructor's fingers, see her tremble as she came. Soon after the old lady, too, came and slowly drew the fingers out of her own furry, matted cunt. Pam backed off and at last Miss Rexhaven could see the faces outside the door.
"Shit..." she moafled.
The girls smiled and waved as they returned to their beds. "Party's over," Diane called after them in her lusty whiskey voice. "Unless Our Leader wants to do it again."
She didn't.
CHAPTER TEN
I thought I'd seen the last and the best of the Maxwell girls the night I fucked Beth Annis at her favorite motel, but I didn't know then what the future held for me. I don't know what I would have done to hurry things up if I had, but I would have done something.
Classes were just about out for the year, so I was worrying less about my homework and more about my track time. A lot of quarterbacks have weak knees, but not Rodney Linker! When I wasn't playing football, there were plenty of other sports I could get into, like track. I did a passable quarter-mile and a fair low hurdles. But not good enough, which was why I was running around the track long after everyone else had gone back to their dorms. That was where crazy, horny Beth found me.
"Hi!" she called and waved at me from the walkway as I was half-way around the oval. I looked back over my shoulder and tripped over a hurdle. I was really surprised.
"Beth!" I returned and started to jog back toward her. "How they hangin', kid?" I should have known better than to ask her that, though-she pulled her blouse open and showed me. They were hanging fine-as I got closer I could see that her nipples were standing up with thirty feet between us.
"Hi, Rod," she said again when I reached her and held ; her arms open for me.
She had another girl with her--a quiet, understated brunette just a little shorter and thinner than Beth. All I noticed at first were her freckles and a round ass-I waved weakly at her but didn't speak as I bent over to give Beth a hello kiss.
I could feel Beth's nipples pop up further, trying to dig into my chest. I remembered how they felt in my hands and under me as I had fucked her-how her body looked shimmering and wet. I remembered that she came in her pants three times before I ever got to lay a hand on her. It all came back to me as I tongued her, tasted her deeply, and I started to get a hard-on, a very conspicuous thing in my track shorts. Beth felt it and started to squirm her pussy against it like an eel as I kissed her. I wondered how the other chick was liking-the show. I wanted to meet her.
When I felt like I was about to cum against her stomach for old times' sake, I broke away and helped Beth button her blouse, then turned to the other girl. "Who's your friend?"
Beth smiled. "I'd like to introduce Ruthie Jenkins,, Rod-the horniest virgin in the East."
"That shouldn't last too long." It was supposed to be a compliment.
"That's kind of what we were thinking."
"Hmmmmm?"
"Ruthie has a masturbation hang-up. I want you to give her a fucking hang-up."
"How do you feel about that?" I asked Ruthie.
"Okay." She seemed maybe a little bit eager, but was so solemn about the whole thing that a guy'd a' thought I was swearing her into office. Which, in a way, I would be. I obligingly reached out to feel one of Ruthie's tits, and was a little surprised to feel a rock-hard nipple. My goosing of her breast caused her to give out a little moan and lick her lips. I probably should have been past being surprised at anything that came from that school, but I couldn't help it. Right there in the open I reached under her skirt and felt warm wetness around her cunt-bun's cotton cup-she and Beth had a lot in common. I gently fingered the insides of her thighs and felt them hairless and smooth under my fingers at first, the even surface giving way finally to goose bumps. Beth had more hair on her cunt, but there were more similarities to the two girls than their funky purple uniforms.
"Let's go," I said. "We're spinning our wheels here."
I had the truck parked in the middle of a thick grove of trees behind the field house-I hadn't wanted any of the coed chicks to know that I was on the track, so I went to a lot of trouble to hide my car. The bed was weighted down with some construction stuff that I was hauling for a Seyville contractor, hoping to make enough bread to dent a three-figure motel tab. I was pretty sure that the desk clerk would give me credit again when I explained that I had two chicks with me, and I figured that we'd go there to fuck. We didn't.
We all climbed into the cab and I fumbled with the keys. Beth pushed my hand away. "No. Right here."
"Huh?"
"Let's fuck right here. Nobody can see us-the trees hide everything."
"Ruthie?"
"It's fine with me," she said. She already had a hand under her dress and as I watched her she pulled her panties down to her knees and started poking at herself. I mean, I'd never seen anything like that before!
Suddenly, balling in the bushes was Jake by me. I gave the chicks free rein to lead the way-they were at the bottom of the plot anyhow.
"Groovy," I joined. Beth nodded, as if I had given a signal, then reached into my boxer shorts, grabbed my cock and with a hungry, longing, lustful look on her face commenced to whack me off slowly, taking lots of excruciating time. I looked over and saw Ruthie huddled against the armrest, well into her private bag of merrily fingering herself, gung-ho and full speed ahead. It turned me on even more than I was to start with-I'd never seen a chick out and out masturbating, oblivious to the fact that there were other people around her. I saw why she needed to get laid and at the same time was even more willing to provide the service.
Beth was cuming in her pants-I could tell by the clenching of her buttocks under her plaid kilt as she leaned against me, still squeezing and stroking my pecker. I was rising quickly-I hadn't had my rocks off for a while and was even happier to have Beth work me over. She grabbed my balls and squeezed on them, ran her finger through the sweaty, hairy space between the rear of my sack and my ass. She knew where to hit. My cock bucked a few times and there were moments when I thought I was going to sperm in my shorts, but I didn't care. I rolled my eyes back and let the sex take me away.
Before I could warn Beth how close I was, she ducked quickly down and started to suck me off. She succeeded quickly-control be damned! I knew that I'd be able to get it back up, so I didn't hesitate to unload, blowing off in her mouth like Old Faithful. I could feel my cum ricochet off her tonsils and spin back around my knob a few times before landing on her tongue where she could carry it away and swallow it. The small lappings of her tongue as she gulped down my wad teased the rim of my cockhead and milked me drier as she took it all in and didn't waste any of it.
Ruthie was going off, too. She shoved a finger up her ass as she fucked herself and I saw a dribble run out around her crack and onto the seat as she discharged a little cream. Whatever else could be said about that kid, I could leave the Vaseline jar in the glove box.
Beth couldn't see that little act-she still had her head against my bush, my cock still deep in her throat as she came again. What a show the Maxwell girls could put on! I was enjoying it so much I started to get hard again right away.
"Taste good?"
"Yummy," affirmed Beth as she slurped off. Her eyes were still a little glazed. "I'm a mess," she said, but she was smiling like a Cheshire cat.
I reached under her dress and found out that it was true; she was dripping and hot and slippery. I made a fist around the crotch of her panties and, taking time to rub my knockles into her crack, pulled them off. Her legs tightened around my intruding arm, and her warmth caused my cock to jump another notch. This one was for Ruthie.
"Out, girls. It's too crowded in here for the 'big one'. "
I caught Ruthie's eyes. She didn't say much, but she glanced loud and clear. She was nervous but ready-we all start out that way. I wasn't nervous, but I was sure ready, looking forward to fucking her maybe more than any other girl. For Beth's sake, I didn't voice that particular thought.
As we climbed out of the cab, Beth launched into a pep-talk to Ruthie. Since we got out of the truck on different sides, we undressed on different sides, but I could hear them anyway. There was an almost maternal note in the more experienced girl's voice... still, I knew that "Mom," would be fucking vicariously as I was taking and Ruthie was yielding her cherry.
"Ruthie," Beth prepped, "you've got the hard parts out of the way. You're no stranger to desire, or cuming, and let's face it-you probably aren't a virgin even if you never have had a cock. Well, cuming is one thing, but cuming with a pussy full of prick is another groove altogether. So take it from one who knows and don't worry."
"I'm game..." the innocent girl squeaked.
The girls had on more clothing than I did, but not much. Their panties were long gone, and before undressing further they hung their gluey undies on low branches, then began slipping out of their plaid uniforms. Only the truck separated us, and I crossed that divider to help Ruthie out of her clothes.
She almost recoiled from my touch-just nervous. Breaking her in would be worth the minor problems. "I'll get them for you," I said in a low and soothing voice and took over the unbuttoning of her blouse. Quickly it was parted and I reached under the cups of her bra to stroke her tits. They were firm and covered with goose bumps, the silky nipples already hardening. In return, she hesitantly reached down and encircled my jutting hard-on with her delicate fingers, backed off once, then touched again with resolution and started squeezing and stroking.
I finished undressing her, letting her have her clumsy but delicious way with my meat, then ran fingertips from her tits across her stomach to bury my fingers in her cunt hair and at last probe her immense, wide crack. I joined and stiffened my fingers and wedged the even rows between her furry lips and the juicy pink ones and made her wet petals vibrate by scrubbing them washboard style between my hands. She gasped in pleasure and I could feel her cum after several seconds, biting the hair of my chest, pulling it into her mouth in her delirious frenzy. I didn't let her climax deter me from entering her slick, silken hole with my middle finger, though, and at this move she took both hands off my cock and grabbed my wrist to force my finger deeper into her, masturbating herself with my hand. Firmly I pulled away.
"No. Control yourself." I was nice about it-she was sweet-looking and nervous, and I didn't want to hurt her feelings. Beth, meanwhile, had seated herself on the edge of the bench front seat with the door open, watching us, a finger making patterns in her cunt-hair. like a good sport, she was waiting her turn.
"Beth," I said, "there's a blanket behind the passengers' seat Dig it out 'and cover the bags of cement in the back, would you?"
"Right, chief." She sprang into action and in a moment had constructed a bed for Ruthie and me. Zero hour.
I was holding Ruthie's arms at her side to force her to wait. She looked a little scared, and when I smiled at her I tried to make it a reassuring one-I even released one of her hands while I pulled her over to the side of the truck with the other. I practically had to drag her, toosuddenly, she wasn't a very willing pupil.
"Okay, Ruthie?" I was so hot for that sweltering cunt that I was about to shoot off on the ground! Ruthie shook her head.
"Sorry. I guess I'm still a little bit Catholic."
"Happens to the best of us. Give it a go." I leaped into the pickup bed and offered her a hand. She scaled the side of the truck like a mountaineer with my arm as the rope, really twisting and parting her cunt. I could see a glistening tear roll from her inside, and I knew that I had convinced her.
And what a crack! Maybe that was part of her problem-she had such a huge cunt. I gently stretched her out on the blanket, raised her knees and spread that monster wide. It was wet enough to take a torpedo, not to mention my eager cock, but I took a little extra time to get her used to me. I kissed each of her nipples, lingering over them and tickled each freckled breast in turn with my darting tongue. When I felt like she was ready, I took the missionary pose and slowly slipped into her.
That was all it took. Her virginity was officially gone, and though the first few inches of searing tunnel were even loose from her fingers and wieners, the farthest reaches were being stretched for the first time. It must have been as good for her as it was for me, because she arched like a bow as I pulled back then slid home again. It was glorious! Her tight cunt squeezed the head of my prong in the deep strokes, the entrance loose when I came up for air. The friction was terrific, the contrasts of tension making me almost high enough to cum in a few minutes of fucking.
Ruthie was bucking around beneath me like a wild animal-kissing me, licking me, biting, scratching me passionately as I reamed her. No one had to teach her the moves-they came naturally to her. I tried to return her ardor by licking again at her tits but managed to catch only the very point of one risen nipple, so great was her bucking.
Damn her... I placed a hand on her shoulder and held her in place, forcing her to be still while my cock stretched her, causing her to channel her energy from rolling to quiet, joyous energy, spreading the pleasure of the riding I gave her into every nerve.
She bared her teeth at me once or twice but never asked me to stop. I wouldn't have, anyway. At last I started to really pound her, my hips spreading her legs to the limit pleasurably-painfully. I could feel her nails on my side and knew that she was drawing some blood, yet I could also feel her booming climax tightening around my joint. Some of her splashing cream dribbled down over my balls and onto the blanket before I let her have it.
I'd unloaded well into Beth's mouth, but this cum made It look like a droplet I flooded her with all the cum I could spend-I counted the bucks of my cock as it pumped her full of cum: twenty-three, and every pump was followed by a violent contraction of Ruthies' tight, once-virgin crack.
"Aaaaaaaaaaa!" Ruthie wailed. She had entered the woman's world.
And when I was done, my cock was still hard and the tingle in balls that gave me permission to go was there again. I pulled out-for the moment. I apparently had more cum than I did wind!
Ruthie lay back on the blanket, grooving on the sex, and I sat on an upturned wheelbarrow to do-likewise. We took it slow for a few minutes-Beth came around and leaned on the tailgate.
"Okay?" I nodded, "You look pooped. Too much track?"
"Too much crack."
"What about mine?"
"Later, baby. First "cum", first serviced"
"I can see I'm going to have to be a martyr. You're still hard, though." She was looking at my beet-red cock hungrily. I laughed.
"That thing has a life of it's own. It thinks it's the reincarnation of a fencepost."
"Mmmmmm." She let that slide by, her eyes darting around the bed to light at last on a garden trowel. The handle was thick and wooden and round-her eyes lit as well as lighted. "Hand me that pecker," she commanded and pointed.
"Sure." One less bell for me to answer.
"Thanks. I'll save it for a while, but I'm about to die of horniness." She turned away, then back, grinning. "What a way to go!" She disappeared and I went back to my thoughts.
Beth's making use of the construction stuff gave me an idea. I kicked it around for a few minutes then called out "Beth!" I rose to a kneeling vantage between Ruthie's legs and scanned the clearing.
"What's up?" Ruthie asked as she beamed up at me.
"My cock, for one thing." Where the hell could Beth have gone?
"Just... a... minute," I heard her pant from behind had her panties on again and was wildly scratching her cunt against the rough bark of a tree trunk. She looked over and stuck out her tongue. "Puts you to shame," she said.
I let her finish. At length she turned, glistening with sweat, her cocoa-capped tits heaving, a trickle of cunt-juice meandering down her thigh. "Yeah?"
"How well do you drive?"
"My brother used to race stock-cars, if that's what you mean."
"That's what I mean."
"What do you want me to do?" she asked.
"Just take the wheel and follow some of the back-country roads. Ruthie and I are going to give Old Mac-Donald a thrill.
At this Ruthie sat up. "And Rod's going to give Ruthie a thrill!"
Beth laughed. "Dug it?"
"Dug it."
"Never doubt an expert." She stripped her panties off and hung them on the limb, then bent over and-picked up the trowel and displayed it. "Brace here is going to give Beth a thrill," she quipped.
Ruthie and I rode through town in back, lying flat on what little floor of the bed wasn't occupied with cement and shovels. After a few minutes the bouncing of the truck told us that we were out of morals-charge dangermore or less-and we sat up. The wind may have been a little cool, but nothing was going to make my hard-on go down except a smile: the smile of Ruthie's bearded cunt!
"Pull over!" I yelled as soon as the terrain was wild enough. Beth did so.
"What's going on?"
"I've got to do a little building," I replied. Beth shrugged and went back to masturbating herself with Brace.
I stood Ruthie in one corner of the bed while I cleared a space in the center. Using bags of cement from the pile, I built a close, heavy chimney around my legs about a foot high, then beckoned for Ruthie. "Stand on the pile," I instructed," and slip my cock into your hole."
"I thought you'd never ask."
I could see that her bush was starting to mat again and her shiny lips to swell-every few moments she fidgeted with either her crack or one of her ripe titties, scratching and surreptitiously squeezing at the same time. Ruthie eagerly did as she was told. Her mysterious hot box around my joint brought with it an urge to fuck her quickly and be done, which I resisted with difficulty.
I had built the chimney so that it bordered closely the main body of the pile, which was still just a little bit higher than that which held my feet down. Ruthie's heels fit snuggly against the higher stack and, lifting a last bag of cement, I placed it across her feet. "Go, Beth," I signaled.
Away we went. Beth handled the truck like Stirling Moss and Ruthie handled the fucking like a good whore. I grabbed her ass and held her close and gave my hand free run of her body, to massage her cunt-lips even as my cock parted them widely. We couldn't slip in and out much, but it was good, anyway-and safe. The cement held us firmly in place and it would take a hell of a turn or bump to dislodge us.
I had her nipples close, where I could glory in them, taste them, touch them, squeeze them. Her lips, too, were close and met mine often, her breath thick in my throat, her tongue moving quickly, darting and teasing. I tasted her mouth and her body-she started to cum early, spastically as the bumps and curves rolled our contact about, in rushes of hot juice that ran back over my hips and blew away in the wind. She couldn't quit cuming, and I couldn't quit fucking her.
I didn't go off until we hit Thorman's bridge-a narrow, one-lane wooden structure over a deep, wide pondand Beth hit the brakes at the same time. She swung the wheel in a violent fislitail so that as I came I felt myself pulled loose from my anchor and hurled through the air, still imbedded and spurting in Ruthie's cunt. I was floating, lost in our orgasm, and didn't even think about what was happening until I saw the surface of the pond hurtling up at us. I clutch Ruthie and we splashed headfirst into the drink.
That fucking water was cold!
I broke the surface with my arm around Ruthie's ass and looked for Beth. There she was, sure enough, leaning over the bridge's rail naked, smirking. I couldn't keep a straight face, either.
"Big bullfrogs in these parts," she giggled.
Ruthie and I treaded water and raised our middle fingers to her in unison. "Fuck you," I laughed.
"If you had," she said, "you might not be there now., "
I dropped the girls off by the bus that was still sitting, empty, outside the Maritime Museum-at least Beth wouldn't have to give the guard any beaver-shots this trip.
"Thanks for your service. Rod," said Beth as she scooted out. "Bye."
"Bye. Goodbye, Ruthie." I even took the time to kiss her briefly, wondering why even as I did it.
Love 'em and leave 'em, right? Even so, I felt like I wanted to see that strange, quiet little chick once or twice more. Get ahold of yourself, Rod, I scolded silently. You're getting old!
I felt my knees to make sure that they were still okay, and was relieved to find that they were.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Miss Beth Annis Seyville, Maine 98702 Dear Ruthie: Boy, did I ever get a riding just now! My cunt feels like it's been had by some machine gone wild-I came so many times I may not want to do it again for five or ten minutes!
I met the guy on the walk outside. I didn't recognize him, but he was very friendly and open and honest right off the bat, the way people are out here.
"Would you like to ball?"
"Uh..." Have you ever known me not to want to ball? Still, I wasn't sure what to say. I'm still not used to the way these people are-but on the other hand, he was a nice specimen, and while my mind was balking my twat was saying "take it, fool!"
"Sure," I replied brightly.
"I'm glad." He took my arm and led me into the main building.
His "area" was back behind the old furnace, down in the basement. It was small, but in the summer when it was hot outside, the basement was cool. And when it was cold in the winter, the furnace was warm. His area was clean and there was a small bed in the corner that looked safe enough-that was all I gave a damn about! I wasn't wearing any panties and I could feel my cunt slick up into the crotch of my jeans right away. I hoped he was as good, as he looked.
With such quick movements that I hardly even realized what was happening, he unbuttoned my pants and urged them down my legs. They spilled around my legs to my feet and I was suddenly standing with my moist bush to the open breeze. I stood like a lump, but he took care of everything; had my workshirt off in nothing flat. I never wear a bra here, so my nice titties greeted him.
"Very nice."
"Thanks." I could feel my nipples move as they stood up and I felt a desire for possession welling up that screamed "Fuck!" I like a battle cry. But I still stood, naked now, while he strolled around me and examined my tingling flesh like a gynecologist.
Finally he disappeared behind me and stayed for a moment. The next thing I knew I was being prodded to action at last... I felt his hard cock lay flat, squeezed between my buttocks like a hot-dog and bun. I felt his finger prod then slip into my ass-hole and I practically sat on it in mid-air. "Ahhhhhhhh," I groaned-Beth was really hot!
"Fire when ready," I murmured.
"Move over to the bed."
I stepped out of my pants and did as I was told while he kept his throbbing cock between my cheeks and his finger deeply imbedded in my ass. The friction of the walking almost made me cum in a few short feet... I wouldn't have done anything to stop it if it had.
He pulled his cock away and commanded "Lie on the bed." He kept his finger in my ass-it was getting to be a thrilling fixture. It was slightly difficult to do so, but I managed to lie on my side first then throw a leg over his aim so that his hand was between my legs, the finger reaching into me from the juncture of my cheeks. I was getting hotter by the second, but he was doing hardly anything, really. He was actually being careful, I think, not to move his finger. He wasn't fucking me with it, it was just there. But every move that either of us made was .all the groovier for its presence.
He dropped down to eat me then. I threw my legs wide to encourage him; I didn't want him to miss an inch. To part my pussy-hair he tongued it to either side then plunged his tongue between my hairy lips and my pink ones. The tickling drove me wild-I tightened my ass-hole around his finger in joy and the feeling grew, feeding on itself.
At last he parted my juicy cunt-lips and slurped over them until I could feel them radiating heat. Not once did he touch my clit, though. I would have cum and juiced all over his face if he had, I'll tell you.
I couldn't see his cock, but if he was half as hot as I was, he was dripping on the floor like a faucet. He must have read my thoughts, for her threw his head back and gave me some more instructions.
"Lie on your side. Put your legs together and make an angle of your body." He paused and waited for me to move then approved of my position. "Lovely," he said.
He sure knew my ropes! As I positioned myself his finger was still up my ass. I was going wild! As I finished squirming a glob of oil spilled out of my hole and ran down the back of my leg to the wrinkled sheet. I wanted him to see the trickle; to know what sort of agonized state he had put me into. Buddy, I silently prayed, it's high time to slip me the cock. From my position I looked over my shoulder and saw his tool for the first time... I was even more ready than I had been before.
He had a short, red, stubby uncircumcised pecker and two huge balls that hung in their sac like boxers' jowls. The shaft was no more than five inches long, but it was good and thick and powerful looking. Most of all, though, I liked his balls.
The sac in which they hung was fiery red and covered with thick hair; more hair than I'd found on the average sac. I knew that his nuts, as big as they were, were bloated with heavy, yummy cum and I could hardly wait to make his load mine, to feel a jet of cum up to my throat. You know I really get off on cum, anyway.
He must have gotten the idea at last that I was set for the actual fucking. His free hand encircled my joined thighs and with them he dragged me to the very edge of the bed.
"Ready?"
"Anytime."
He knelt on the floor and slid his cock into my pussy from the rear and sideways. A great slurp that must have been audible outside followed the progress of his hard-on as he shoved himself to the hilt. His bush tickled my ass just as his finger tickled my ass-hole as he made his entrance complete.
Jesus Christ, was that a tight fit! It nearly hurt to go onto him with my legs together, not to mention sideways. But though the fit was tight, it was unaccustomedly good. It made the curve of my cunt go off on a whole different tangent. I grabbed my own tits and squeezed on them the way I sometimes do and moaned with pain and fulfillment at the same time. I could hear him laughing. "I take it you like my little invention?"
"Fuck now," I said, "ask questions later."
So he did. He just about rode me ragged, but was so sensitive to my progress that he would always slow his strokes before I could cum. I loved it and hated it. I wanted to cum so bad I could taste it in my mouth but I loved every move he made. And through it all he kept his unmoving finger in my ass-hole. I knew my puckered ring was squeezing it so tight that he'd have no circulation there before long, but that was his problem. All he had to do to end it was make me cum. If he had, I would have killed him.
Suddenly he pulled his fat cock out to the head and rammed me with every ounce of his weight. I shook like Jell-o and felt him blast off in my cunt like a fire hose. I could picture cords of cum thickly coating every organ of my body, jetting through my bloodstream with fast, fast relief. At the very least, the jets were stretching my twat's walls, and I came at last.
Ruthie, how I came! I've never had an orgasm like it before. The first thing I did was to shoot his finger out of my ass-hole like a rocket and I can safely say that I squeezed his joint down to the core, to where it couldn't be compressed anymore. Every contraction of my pussy tightened with it every muscle in my body. I went steel-solid and almost twisted the tits off my chest. The guy wasn't moving-his last stroke had been the strong one but he was letting me groove on his fat prick in the tight onion.
As soon as my spasms started to subside a little, though, he pulled out just as violently as he had entered and started me cuming again. As I kept it up he bent over me, grabbed me and tossed me around on the bed like a rag doll, which made my finish even better.
When it was over at last I was so strung out that I could hardly move. I let him pull me around to a lengthwise position on the bed, place a pillow under my head and sort of "tuck me in".
"That's one of the problems with that little trip," he said. I guess he was referring to my condition, "Still, it's a natural high."
"High," I agreed groggily.
He crawled over me so that he could stretch out beside me and as he did I kissed each of his balls in turn before falling fast asleep.
He's still asleep as I write you this letter. What a specimen! I guess opposites attract-you're so quiet and Rod's so mouthy, and I'm such a blabbermouth while this guy doesn't say much.
When I was cuming, he tossed his hair back and I recognized him. I guess I forgot to mention it to you earlier in the letter. Do you remember Father Ogilvie from school, who disappeared? Well, this is him! I was just fucked by an ex-priest! How about that?
From the reports that Paula and Lois and the rest of the girls gave, he was pretty good then. I ought to write them and tell them not to worry-he still is. You'd hardly recognize him, Ruthie. His hair is very long and wild. What a change in him, for the better. You remember that we always wanted to rape him ourselves-too bad we didn't think of it sooner.
I'm glad to hear that you and Rodney are making out okay-no pun intended. The bedroom in that house you rented, with the wall-to-wall mattress, sounds just right for you! I suppose that Rod gets the credit for breaking you in to sex, but I like to feel that I helped.
It's a good trip for you, settling down with one guy. Personally, though, I dig the commune scene. To each his own. I only know that I didn't dig Maxwell... God, am I glad to be away from that hole! I'll probably be a nymphomaniac for the rest, of my life to compensate for having lived there.
I've tracked down a few of our old classmates-most of them have done pretty well for themselves in the month we've been "free". Jan Durgood and Charlie are shacking up on the beach-I wish her better luck this tune around. Julia and her boyfriend Lenny are in the dope-supply business for the commune. Melissa, Pam, Cheryl and Diane opened a whorehouse just outside Seyvilie and are doing okay-Diane keeps sending me descriptions of the wild things that they learn from their customers, sort of like sending recipes to a new bride, I guess.
Who else? Oh yes. I ran into Paula Lerner in the restroom of The Wharf Restaurant, in town. She was fucking herself with a battery-powered vibrator, so we proceeded to eat each other for old tunes' sake... do you know that she has red cunt-hair? That's something of an oddity. I guess she isn't getting any, red hair or no. Too bad.
Well, Ruthie, keep writing. Have Rod write me once, too. I don't want to lose track of all the people I met in my year at Maxwell-I guess it was even longer for you-because, when all is said and done, we have a lot in common: hot cracks! All us horny girls have to stick together, like "birds" or a feather.
