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o  The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories.  o
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Tits
by Old Bill (address withheld)

***

A young girl, too young for sex, asks for my help and together we 
figure out why she isn't enjoying sex as she should or perhaps 
shouldn't. (M/g, extreme-ped, inc, rom)

***

Tits Monaghan was a natural wonder, almost an oddity because her 
breasts were so full, firm, shapely and sensitive when she was so 
young, so innocent and immature. They were not a big, soft mounds 
like poor Anna Nicole's nor like Pamela Anderson's mature set of 
wonderfully supported jugs, but were a youthful pair of perfectly 
shaped and sculptured melons topped by lovely nipples and areoles 
that were the size of some young girls breasts, rising from her 
lean chest and turning upward and slightly outward, barely 
jiggling when she walked and bobbling wonderfully when she ran. 
Tits never wore a bra, and as far as anyone knew did not own or 
need one although the towns' matrons were sure she would someday. 
No one knew what size she was. More than a handful was the usual 
measure, usually done with gestures and smiles.

Until she was twelve, Tits was known as Marcie, a fair-haired 
tomboy with long legs and an impish smile under her pug nose and 
crown of golden curls, good hitter but a weak arm. But then, 
almost suddenly, around Thanksgiving as most later recalled, there 
they were, conical at first, like ice cream cones, but soon 
wonderfully filled out, well rounded, bell shaped, up-turned, and 
when her brother came home from college that winter, he found that 
his kid sister had developed the best set of knockers in town, in 
the county, perhaps in the state. By the time he went back to 
school eight days later he had fucked her thirty-seven times in 
every way the two of them could think of or discover on the 
Internet other than tit fucks, which never crossed his mind 
despite her incredible cleavage. Joseph lost ten pounds and slept 
through the first day of classes that second semester, his prick 
so sore it hurt to pee. Tits became addicted to sex, a burning 
need within her, a need to copulate, and her breasts so sensitive 
she could produce an orgasm by lifting a nipple to her own lips 
which she did only when truly desperate.

Her brother went through three dozen condoms and ejaculated 
happily every time he bonked his little sister, but she never 
climaxed except for the times he sucked and nibbled on her 
breasts, then she came like a tornado, squealing like crazy and 
beating on him with her fists. Her horny brother never noticed 
this since he was usually fucking her when he sucked her knockers. 
For Tits, sex meant getting her big jugs licked and sucked and 
mauled no matter what the rest of her luscious body was doing or 
was having done to it. She loved getting her clit sucked and 
certainly encouraged that practice, but her tits seemed even more 
sensitive, and her randy brother gave her what she wanted because 
she gave him her body, her pussy, her ass and her throat. Joseph 
found that he could spend all the time between erections licking, 
sucking, nibbling and pulling on his lush sister's wonderful jugs 
and thus keeping her aroused and submissive, eager to do whatever 
he asked.

Tits returned to her seventh grade classes a much more 
knowledgeable young woman than most of the girls in her up-scale 
middle school. Of course there were a few sluts, girls who had 
gained an unsavory reputation for giving out blowjobs like they 
were Tootsiepops and one known as Trailertrash, or just Trash, who 
went home to her empty apartment with high school boys or 
community college men, a different one almost every day, having 
fun and making a decent profit, so it was widely believed. There 
were also, if anyone could have quietly inquired, a couple of 
girls whose father's were enjoying their nubile bodies and two or 
three others who had girlfriends on the sly and played 69 
regularly with their talented tongues, ignoring boys completely.

Tits got some new clothes, sloppy shirts and bulky sweaters that 
did their best to conceal her amazing assets, but the boys flocked 
to her like honey bees and elbowed each other to sit with her at 
lunch time and bump into her in the hall or at her locker, which 
became so popular that her home room teacher moved it to a distant 
corner location. She was not allowed to date and until her brother 
came home that spring, she had found pleasure only with herself. 
She learned that rubbing a rough washcloth on her jugs felt good, 
that she could excite herself with water painting brushes and 
that, with some effort, she could lick her nipples and even nip at 
them when she lifted her gorgeous mounds to her mouth. She even 
tried using clothespins on them, but that hurt too much.

Being only twelve, Tits was unaware of the effect she had on full-
grown men although she was, of course, conscious of the icky boys 
slobbering all over her. Mr. Hughes, her young math teacher, was 
the first to get up his nerve along with his cock, and invite Tits 
to stop by after school for some help with her algebraic 
equations. When he locked the door to his classroom and taped a 
piece of paper over the window, Tits knew she was in for some sort 
of an unusual experience. Her eager brother had never tit-fucked 
her, but Mr. Hughes stripped off her new sweater and undershirt 
and then laid his angry cock between her shapely boobs with a 
smile on his face as she perched on the edge of his desk. He 
grasped her firm melons, pushed them together, dripped spittle on 
his cockhead and thumbed her hard nipples as he slid his thick rod 
up and down her smooth cleavage until he spurted in her mouth, and 
she climaxed in her panties, from his thumb actions and her 
jutting nips rubbing at each other several times.

Mr. Hughes fell back in his chair, gasping for air, while Tits 
mopped her legs with tissues from his desk drawer and then walked 
home, bookbag on one shoulder, nipples still sore and tender from 
twenty minutes of hard abuse, somewhat puzzled. She had found that 
if she wore her backpack in the normal way, she caused traffic 
accidents and drew unwanted howls and whistles from passing 
truckers. In her room, she stripped and looked in her mirror. Her 
nipples were jutting out like fingertips, and she lifted her 
breasts to her mouth and soothed them with her tongue, producing 
two more shuddering climaxes as she did so, orgasms that put her 
on her knees, gasping for air, her pussy liquefied, her labia 
moving like a fish's mouth, her forehead on the floor, toes curled 
in ecstasy.

Mr. Phillips, the popular music teacher, was the next to give in 
to temptation, and Tits was a walking temptation, truly a wet 
dream on wheels, with a jiggling rack like no other. Mr. Phillips 
bent her over his paper-strewn desk, ripped off her tiny panties 
and drove his puny cock into her tight-lipped slit while he mauled 
her big boobs with both hands. He came almost at once, sobbing and 
shaking and then fell to his knees behind the nubile youngster, 
begging her forgiveness. Tits turned, having barely noticed his 
coital efforts and unsatisfied by his brief tit mauling, knelt 
before him, kissed him and then pulled his face down to her bared 
breast and let him suck until she climaxed, gritting her teeth and 
raking her fingers through the man's sparse hair while he gnawed 
at her nipples, eyes closed, heart hammering.

The school's male guidance counselor, Mr. McGonigal, held out as 
long as he could, beating off almost daily in the faculty lounge 
and then scheduled Tits for a high school interview in May. He 
invited her to sit on his lap after he peeled off her clinging 
polo shirt. Then he sucked and licked and chewed both her jutting 
nipples until the girl begged him to stop, having soaked his 
trousers with her juices. She went to her knees, fished out his 
rigid rod and swallowed his single ejaculation with ease, feeling 
that she owed him at least that, another talent from her brother's 
instruction.

I was sixteen when I met her that summer, and she had just turned 
thirteen and was back to serving her brother, who despite her 
generosity, was chasing a couple of girls much more his age. I 
learned all the stuff above from stories she told me that summer 
as we made love, over and over, much against my will, of course, 
since, as a rule, I do not bonk kids. There are laws, you know. 
She came and sat beside me on the tiled edge of the community 
swimming pool one warm day. She smiled up at me, put her hand on 
my hairy thigh, and said, "Hi, I'm Marcie Monaghan." Her rack was 
truly unbelievable, especially in an outgrown string bikini that 
bared 90% of her wondrous globes as they jutted out before her, 
cantilevered as it were, with tiny triangles of cloth baring much 
of her puffy areoles. It was like putting a bandaid on a bowling 
ball, twenty pounds of clay into a five-pound bag. Her jugs seemed 
alive, constantly squirming to be free.

I put my hand on her smooth and beautifully tanned thigh, tried 
not to look at the outstanding pair of outstanding beauties an 
inch away from my upper arm, and said, "Hi, my name's Billy." Like 
every male in town, I knew who she was.

She nodded and smiled. "I know. A lady who's a friend of my 
mother, I heard about you from her." She stroked my leg.

"Really. Who's that?" I asked, feeling my eager cock stir. Close 
up, her breasts were even more wondrous with their light tracery 
of blue veins and her oversized nipples were even more enticing, 
jutting up and outward as they did, the puffy nipple mounds bigger 
than a silver dollar, stretching the thin cloth covering them, the 
outer edges of the pink circles evident, shaped like the nipples 
on a baby bottle, the tits like finger tips, just begging to be 
sucked. If you have ever seen any of Dementia's girls, you know 
what I mean, nipples meant for chewing.

She wrinkled her forehead. "Barbie. I didn't get her last name. 
She's big blonde." She smiled at me and thrust back her shoulders. 
"Big as I am up here, maybe even bigger." Her jutting nips were 
spectacular; they made my mouth water as they stretched her tiny 
suit. They quivered. So did I.

I knew the woman. I had cut her lawn and done chores for her and 
humped her a number of times. Barbie was a very enthusiastic 
fucker, a great and generous lay who was in the process of wearing 
out her fourth husband at the age of twenty-five or so. Serving 
her was hard but very satisfying work.

Tits exhaled and wiggled closer, rubbing her left jug against my 
right arm. "Barbie said you were big and strong; I mean that your 
thing is big and strong." Her exploring fingers edged closer to it 
as it filled my jock strap. My balls were in turmoil. My brain was 
about to quit and hand my body over to older centers.

"Thing?" I said, and she put her hand down on it. It was maybe 
halfway riled. It surged. She patted.

"This thing. You know what I mean."

I moved her hand away. "And?" I asked, smiling at her and glancing 
down at the deep valley between her youthful mounds, her upright 
volcanoes. That's was what they looked like, I decided, volcanoes, 
well-shaped young mountains, Fuji type. Like Mount St. Helens 
before it exploded.

"And, well, I have this problem. We can't talk about it here. You 
have a car don't you?"

I nodded. "But I just got here."

"OK," she said with a sigh. "When you get ready to go, come find 
me."

"That won't be hard," I said.

She laughed, shaking those gorgeous boobs, and pulled her swimsuit 
back up over her hard nipples.

So an hour or so later she found her little Hawaiian shirt and 
flip-flops and followed me out to the Fiero, many parts jiggling 
wonderfully. She sat, turned sideway and pouted. "Can I trust 
you?"

"A lot of women do," I said. "I'm surprised Barbie talked about 
me."

"She's Mom's best friend."

'Still. I'd never talk about her."

"I've got this problem. I don't enjoy sex the normal way, you 
know, fucking, getting poked."

"That's a shame," I said.

She nodded. "I like getting my big knockers sucked, and boys have 
gotten me off with their tongues a few times, down there, you 
know, on my clit, gash licking."

"That's good. A lot of women seem to like that."

"But most won't do it, you know, go down on me. They just want to 
stick their things in me and grunt and spurt and maul my jugs." 
She sniffed. "It's no fun."

"And you don't like that?"

"Not really. So I guess there's something wrong with me."

"Tits," I said, letting the name slip out, "I am sure there is 
nothing wrong with you. How old are you anyhow?"

She hesitated. "Sixteen," she said, looking away.

"How old?"

She sniffed. "Almost."

I laughed.

"All right. I'm thirteen, just thirteen, durn it. So there, and 
I've been doing it for about six months, since Christmas, but, 
well, but I'm not hooked up now. You know, seeing anybody regular 
like." She told me later that she was sleeping with her brother 
off and on that summer.

I smiled.

"It's not funny. I've done it a lot; I don't know how many times, 
maybe twenty or thirty. But I've never come. And I'm on the pill."

I shook my head.

"So this lady, Barbie, she said you were the best, the biggest and 
the best."

"I can't make love to you, Tits. I can't even kiss you much less 
fuck you."

"Why not? Am I too ugly or something?"

"No, sweetie, you're thirteen."

She sighed and her luscious pair bobbled. "I was afraid of that." 
She snorted and looked determined, folding her arms under her 
glorious pair. "Couldn't you just put it in me so we could find 
out. I mean, well, now this is a secret, my brother's thing is 
only about this big." She held her thumb and forefinger wide 
apart, maybe three or four inches. "It's about the size of your 
thumb." Then she grabbed my hand and gripped my middle finger. 
"And I don't think anybody's put more than this in me."

"Have boys fingered you?" I asked, trying to get my eager horn to 
relax.

She nodded. "Some, a few." She sniffed. "It just felt, I don't 
know, odd, annoying."

"Well," I said, getting car started and trying to ignore the 
turmoil between my thighs, "everybody's different."

I drove to a shady part of the park, and we walked down the hill 
toward the creek, hand in hand. As usual, I can resist almost 
anything except temptation. I spread the blanket I had carried on 
my shoulder, turned off my scruples, and we sat and then we hugged 
and we kissed and we pulled off each other's shirts and fondled 
each other until I was pretty sure she was excited and knew I was. 
I had never handled a better set of knockers than Tits' beauties 
and every time I licked a nipple, she shook and squealed and then 
mashed my face into her chest.

"Now," I said as she helped me get her shorts and underpants off, 
"let's try a couple of things." She was almost hairless between 
her legs. "Understand, this is an experiment on account of you're 
too young to have sex with." I eased a finger up into her, 
surprised she was so wet and slick as well as very tight. I added 
a second finger with some effort, hooked them forward and rubbed 
gently inside her vagina in an area where many women seemed to 
have what was usually called a G-spot, kind of behind her clit. 
"How's that feel?" I asked her as she lay back, hands under her 
curly head, breasts still high despite being on her back, no sag 
at all, nipples erect and as big as the tip of her little finger, 
hemispheres firm, wonderfully ridiculous.

"Odd, peculiar, irritating." She smiled.

I fumbled around inside her and then gave up, pried off my shoes, 
pulled down my shorts and boxers and watched my eager horn jump 
out and up.

"Oh god," Tits said, getting up on her elbows and looking at my 
rising horn, mouth and eyes wide open. "I thought she was kidding. 
Holy gee!"

"Now," I said as calmly as I could, suppressing a proud smile. "We 
are not making love or fucking or anything like that. We are 
experimenting. Understand? I don't fuck thirteen-year-olds. This 
has nothing to do with love. Or even lust for that matter. It's 
scientific. Right?"

She nodded, lay back down, hands at her sides, knotted into fists. 
She licked her lips. "I don't think you can get that thing in me."

"We'll see," I told her. "Lift your knees and spread your legs." I 
examined her folds, rubbed her clit gently and decided she might 
be right. "OK, Tits, roll over and get up on your hands and 
knees."

"My brother did me that way a few times, bunny he called it," she 
said as she got into position, and I came up behind her on my 
knees, my big ram straight out before me, just a bit above 
horizontal and slightly curved, dripping, ready, in fact much more 
than ready. "Did I tell you I was on the pill?"

"Here we go," I said, setting the head of my prick at her slick 
but tiny opening, remembering how she had squeezed on my curious 
fingers. My shaft was so thick it filled my hand. But it was also 
hard enough to poke a hole in a sheet of wallboard.

"Ah," she gasped when the big head popped into her and her puffy 
lips closed behind it. "You did it." Her young vagina was grasping 
firmly, quivering.

I held her hips and pushed hard, sliding inward, butting her open, 
plowing, bulldozing, throbbing. "You OK?" I asked, maybe halfway 
in, penetrating steadily but slowly. Her pussy was in constant 
motion, rippling and convulsing, squeezing firmly.

She nodded and wiggled her ass. "You sure are big."

I backed off a bit and pushed in and up again and then to the 
side, holding her pelvis, pulling her to me, sure I was stretching 
her, feeling around, exploring. I rotated my hips a bit, trying to 
screw it in. I tried to remember what I had read about young 
girls' vaginas, but couldn't exactly recall their size or length. 
I thought they were about inch in diameter and maybe three or four 
inches deep. I was already five inches into her and twice the 
normal diameter. I pushed harder and she whimpered, stretched 
obviously and probably painfully. I gritted my teeth, ignoring her 
pain.

"Tell me when you want to stop," I said, leaning over her and 
reaching up to grasp her big jugs and maul them a bit while I 
moved it in and out an inch or so, humping gently and getting 
somewhat deeper with each pleasurable insertion. She was hot and 
wet, undulating within. I was maybe a half-foot deep and really 
enjoying the experiment, my balls swing to and fro.

She nodded. "More," she sobbed, shivering as I paused and tried to 
relax.

I got back in position, backed off, took a deep breath and drove 
in, all the way in, right to the balls, which by then had drawn up 
tightly at the base of my pole.

She squealed and her head went down until her forehead touched the 
ground so I backed up some and felt my cock jump and flex deep 
within her.

She gasped and climaxed, squeezing hard on my thick shaft as 
ripples of pleasure coursed through her. "You did it," she gasped, 
shuddering and ripping up handfuls of grass and weeds. "You did 
it." She sighed, bucking and heaving. "I came; I came!"

I looked down and saw that I had recoiled and now had perhaps 
seven inches in her and two outside and waiting, slick with our 
juices. I thrust again, held it deep and waited for it to jerk, 
feeling her squirming on my balls. It jumped and she came again, 
gasping for breath and bucking on my thick ram. I thrust and held 
it. It felt great, massaged and stretched. She climaxed again, as 
multi-orgasmic as any female I've ever known.

"Good," I said, sliding the whole thing back out of her, enjoying 
the vibrations and pulses of her pussy. When it popped free, it 
made a wet and sucking sound, and we both chuckled as I fell on my 
back and she pounced on me and kissed me fiercely, my face, neck 
and chest.

I patted her bare butt. "Now you know. There's nothing wrong with 
you."

She kissed me some more, and she stroked my soggy ram as it lay 
resting on my heaving belly, still blood filled. "Let's check to 
make sure," she whispered as she ground her magnificent pair into 
my chest and nudged my scrotum with her knee. Some strenuous 
licking and sucking got me fully hard and eagerly erect, and the 
busty girl swung a leg across my loins and screwed herself down my 
pike and then smiled at me. 

"I feel it coming, rolling through me, I'm," and she cried out and 
put her hands by my ears and leaned forward. I couldn't resist and 
sucked first one big dug and then the other giving the luscious 
girl three orgasms in a row, maybe even four but who's counting. 
She collapsed atop me, sobbing and quivering, and eventually we 
got dressed and back to the car. I was well satisfied although I 
had not ejaculated.

We drove to her home in relative silence and when we got there she 
turned in her seat. "Now what?"

"Now, I guess you have to take a measuring tape with you." I 
smiled.

"Right, and I think we need to do some more experiments."

We did. A lot of them...