From bronwensm@writehand.clara.net Sat Jun 28 18:44:15 1997
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: RP: The Offering (MM/f, teen, exhib)
From: bronwensm@writehand.clara.net (BronwenSM)
Date: Sat, 28 Jun 1997 22:44:15 GMT
--------

WARNING: This is adult reading material. If you aren't, don't!
(c) BronwenSM 1997. Not to be used without permission.

                                   -- The Offering --
                              (MM/f, teen, exhib)

                                      @--->--->----

We strolled unobtrusively through the gates and, no one having
challenged us, walked swiftly towards the imitation Greek temple at
the top of the rise. Dusk was falling, a school day in autumn. I was
on fire with lust and fear of discovery. 

One genius forefinger slipped inside my panties under the table in the
coffee shop was all it took. Although he cared nothing for me, silly
girl, that boy could make me forget my name with his dexterity. My
tiny non-uniform panties were already soaked and I could feel my
juices cooling on the bare thighs under my skirt. I was "in lurve"
regardless of his indifference. In those days he was always welcome in
my pants. Looking back I wonder if it was his expertise I adored
rather than any more romantic attraction.

Safe under the eaves of the darkening stone folly we sat watching the
stragglers leave the park. There was a moment when we must have both
decided we were alone. I dropped my school mac on the flags as some
sort of blanket and at the same time threw back my head and arched my
back, offering my aching little cherry-stone nipples to his mouth.

Christopher leant down and gripped a nipple with his teeth, not quite
hurting, a sharp deep pleasure and I groaned low in my throat. My
hands were clumsy with lust, trying to reach his jeans while he
half-crouched to pull my blouse open and suck my breast tips into his
hot mouth. It was so cold, cold and damp, but his mouth, my cunt, his
cock, our hands were burning. At first I couldn't reach his jeans
without pulling him away from his intense labour at my nipples, then a
moment later it was clear I still couldn't get him out of his pants
without disturbing the other hand moving down inside my waistband
towards my clitoris. My excitement was so powerful I could not bear to
move. I just stood there, vibrating, only my arms still inside my
unbuttoned school blouse, my flesh white in the dusk as he sent near-
orgasmic excitement through me with his hot pointed tongue and sharp
teeth.

"Fuck me, Chris," hoarsely, "Please fuck me. I need you inside me."
His breathing was jerky, he ripped off his jeans, no underwear, and
hopped for a ludicrous second in a boot until he'd dragged the rest
off. He kept on his sweater. It was colder now, and the light was
nearly gone.

I was already on the ground, fingers slithering in my pussy, legs high
and wide. Not a time for maidenly modesty. "Fuck me, I need it so
badly, you don't know how badly," then "YYEESSS!"  I shouted in
triumph as his cock hit bottom with a satisfying brutal thud. Straight
in like a piston, he knew the trick.

We went at it like cats - no fancy positions, no endearments - just
hard, focussed fucking in the dark, and a lot of noise. I loved the
friction of the firm-edged flange of his cock. Some men's dicks are
smooth shaped, like a banana. Me, I love a dick with a strongly
pronounced head like a baby's fist and forearm, arching out to catch
me both directions of the stroke.

Soon I had a raw spot on my back where it took the pressure against
the stone floor, and God knows what was happening to his knees (as it
happened I never found out). Gasping and sobbing, I felt orgasms hit
me like hailstorms, gripping his waist with my thighs and tensing
everywhere until the energy came through me, and straight, and I felt
my guts open like a flower.

I fell back temporarily as he straightened up above me and then, full
of gratitude, scrambled to my knees and started to fellate him. His
cock tasted gorgeous, the fresh juice of two clean but desperately
horny people. Deep into giving him pleasure I suddenly realised his
back had stiffened. I raised my head - surely I hadn't hurt him?

"I think there's someone out there," he whispered.

Kneeling there, with cooling cumjuice on my thighs, I felt rich and
beautiful and oddly powerful. "Who's there?" I called clearly. "Come
out and say hello." 

"Nooo," hissed Chris. "Don't. You're crazy."

"Come out, come out, whoever you are!" I sang, and giggled.

Out of the shadow of some laurel bushes came a short bulky figure. His
whole posture was defeated, timid. We stood up to watch him.

"Come up here!" I called. And he came. Chris said nothing. His flared
nostrils and his eyes showed me he was turned on, and intrigued, but
it was my party.

The man was not old, not young. Maybe 40. At 15 everyone seems old.
Chris at 19 was a man of the world to me.

The man wore a heavy raincoat, which he never took off while I knew
him. He had a white face like a disappointed potato, but his eyes were
black and huge and he was staring at me like a disciple. He climbed
the steps of the temple and walked very slowly towards us. It was a
matter of half a dozen steps, but I think he thought he was dreaming.

"Could I? I mean, would you mind if I? Could I .. touch you?" he asked
very gently.

"It's my pleasure", I said smiling, and cupped my breasts to offer
them with both hands. For the first time I deliberately, confidently
displayed myself in the knowledge of my power.

He made some sort of choking sound and fell on my tits, sucking and
stroking them with amazing tenderness as though they were baby
animals. He was not clean, and even now I remember the charity shop
smell of old clothes (perhaps not even his old clothes), and a faint
whiff of mould. His hair smelt dirty, but the sense of worship was
intoxicating.

Chris was behind me, watching the man's head over my shoulder while
his hands kneaded my arse. His breathing was a cross between shock and
extreme lust. I don't think he knew what to do. I knew exactly what to
do. I moved my hips slightly and touched the back of the man's neck.
"D'you want to kiss me?" I asked.

As I well knew, he didn't even think of my face. He sobbed and fell to
his knees, burying his face between my legs, working his surprisingly
large warm tongue between my fat wet labia. He licked and sucked in a
frenzy, as if he wanted to coax his way right up inside and hibernate
there for the winter. He reeked of loneliness. I felt strong and full
of pity - I had never been able to give another person something they
wanted so much before. I thought, in my innocence, how unfair it was
that there were people cut off by looks and shyness from the glories
of sexual expression. I was glad to be of assistance. 

After a minute or two of watching, Chris urged me to fuck again,
rather grumpily, partly just to show this guy he was there first I
think. I slid easily onto the cold stone and we slickly resumed our
frantic rhythm, me flat on my back with my legs round his waist. I
could see the night sky. The man sat down on the floor beside us and
talked quietly. "I was watching you when you were doing that before,"
he said. "It was so beautiful."

I turned my mind aside from him and absorbed myself in the sex I loved
so much.

As I felt Chris's thrusts gain that unmistakable urgency that always
flips me over, and he plunged deep and savage inside me, I gripped the
man's hand as I took the impact of another orgasm. His fingers were
wet. I was lost for a second or two, and when I started taking notice
again the man was pleading very softly with us both. "Please," he
said. "Please."

Chris was looking a bit confused, but he disentangled himself from me.
I gave that little sad dumpy man a slow smile and said "Come here,
then."

And we fucked. On a cold damp autumn schoolnight. And while we fucked
he wept. He touched me with some sort of reverence. I felt like the
goddess. I stood up and walked home with cum stains on the inside of
my uniform. It was only about 6.30.

I don't know why I did it, but it's a good memory. Now I am older I
overlay it with complicated motives. At the time I think I was just so
in love with sex, my new find, my new fluency, and couldn't bear to
think of anyone being left out.

Chris and I met up ten years later. "You scared me", he said. "I was
such a dickhead. I didn't understand you."

I still sometimes wonder what the sad, lonely man thought, and if he
ever thinks about it now.

                                   @--->--->----

If you enjoyed this, please let me know at
bronwensm@writehand.clara.net. Remember Celeste's blow-job principle!
<grin>


BronwenSM
Accept no substitute

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