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Archive name: hormone.txt (MM/f-teen)
Authors name: Venturer (venturer@wowmail.com)
Story title : Hormone Therapy

--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2003.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
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Hormone Therapy (MMf)
by Venturer (venturer@wowmail.com)

***

Sheryl is sixteen, bored but with hormones that are 
fairly fizzing through her veins. She's fertile, too, she 
knows she is, as well as unprotected, but common-sense 
departs entirely when first her uncle, then an 18 year 
old, an older married man and finally a lad she meets in 
a nightclub administer the only treatment her aching body 
understands. Will she survive a late event unscathed?

***

I'm bored, she thought. I've been on this train only five 
minutes and I'm already bored out of my brain. She should 
have stuck to plan A and gone back home on the overnight 
sleeper like they'd arranged.

She was in the very last section of the train, containing 
only a few pairs of bench seats, but it was linked to the 
next part of the carriage by a corridor. She looked 
around idly. There was an elderly couple she could just 
see over the backs of the seats in front, and a couple in 
their thirties on the bench seat diagonally cross from 
her, and two boys. One of them, aged about eighteen, she 
could clearly see through a gap.

A couple of minutes' study confirmed her first 
impression. He was tasty, very much so. She felt the 
familiar, delicious disturbance in her crotch. A couple 
more minutes and she knew her cunt was juicy. Another 
five minutes, she thought, and I'll be soaking my 
knickers - again. I wonder what he'd be like to fuck? 
Fairly good, I should think. I wonder if he's got a big 
cock? Does he know how to use it? I bet he has got a big 
one, long and thick and smooth and I bet he'd get it 
right up inside me, and then he'd fuck me, and then...

Hell! She shook herself out of the fantasy. Don't be a 
bloody fool! It all comes from having a long journey in 
front of you with not much to do, and from it being this 
particular week. She really should have insisted on 
coming home on the sleeper last night. Had it been a 
mistake to allow her uncle to persuade her to stay the 
extra night? He and her aunt had been persuasive, though.

The whole visit could have been a mistake, thought 
Sheryl. Well, alright, a frustration, and in many 
different ways, too. Her mother had been very insistent, 
however.

"You have seen John and Kirsten for years and they're 
always asking me to let you go. Just for a week, that's 
all. You'll like it, they're interesting and different."

They're not, they're fossils, Sheryl had thought, they're 
over forty and therefore decrepit, and live on a farm in 
the middle of nowhere. I'm sixteen, my hormones are doing 
cartwheels, all I have a mind for is boys and sex, 
especially sex, and I'm being asked to spend a week 
without a bright light in sight. No!
But her mother had insisted, so she'd gone, taking a load 
of books and any number of CDs to use with her portable 
player. She'd need them.

In truth, it hadn't been that bad. John and Kirsten had 
made her very welcome and she'd got on with them. Their 
farmhouse had a large garden with woods close by, so for 
long periods she had found somewhere quiet and laid out 
in the sun in next to nothing, usually just a pair of 
very brief knickers. Her mother never had qualms about 
stripping off entirely, she even did it on beaches 
sometimes, but Sheryl couldn't quite come to that yet. 
She'd listened to music and read her books, or just lain 
around thinking.

And when she'd done that, it had been about sex. She 
couldn't help herself. It had probably been a good thing 
she'd been there, she'd thought, because her period was 
due the day after she got back. There'd be no risk of a 
mistake. She wasn't a virgin, of course, she'd been 
fucking with increasing regularity since she'd reached 
fourteen, but hadn't bothered to go on the pill yet. She 
just took care to fuck in the two weeks after her period.

The problem was, she'd noticed that she was actually more 
aroused in the week before it. Let's be up-front, she'd 
thought, I'm as horny as hell. I want sex so much it 
feels like I could kill for it. It's like that at the 
moment, it's what my hormones do to me. There ought to be 
a treatment for it other than the obvious.

Involuntarily, she found herself shuffling in her seat so 
the boy could see more of her legs. She twisted so the 
outline of her tits beneath her tight tee-shirt became 
more obvious. She was proud of her tits, round and firm 
if not yet quite full-sized, and she knew boys liked 
them, too. They hardly needed a bra for support. Her arse 
wasn't quite so shapely, but at least it wasn't fat.

Sheryl shuffled again, parting her legs beneath her 
short, flared skirt. She was being increasingly 
provocative but felt unable to stop herself. She intended 
the boy should be able to see her knickers if he wanted 
to.

He did. Within a couple of minutes, he'd moved to sit 
opposite her, and a chat-up routine started. He turned 
out to be called Wes, and was staying on the train until 
the town before her own. After half an hour or so, Wes 
had turned a chat-up into something resembling a 
friendship. At the same time he made no attempt to hide 
the fact that his cock was good and hard.

Sheryl hadn't missed it, not at all. She felt her sex-
drive raging along, close to out of control. She kept 
crossing and re-crossing her legs as the itch and 
discomfort between her legs increased, but all that did 
was to work her hemline higher up her thighs. She knew 
what time of the month it was and what the risks were, 
but she was finding it hard to care. If Wes wanted to 
fuck her, she'd find it very difficult not to join in 
with enthusiasm.

He suggested a walk towards the buffet. Smiling, she 
agreed. They never got there, though. A couple of 
carriages down the train they came on a parcels section, 
where the corridor ran down one side with various 
packages and large parcels in the rest of the carriage. 
Wes suddenly slipped his arm round her waist and guided 
her, far from unwillingly, in amongst the stacked 
packages.

She turned, leaning her back against a large packing 
case. Wes moved up against her and they went into a 
lengthy clinch, kissing hungrily. Sheryl could feel his 
cock pressing hard against her abdomen and felt a thrill 
pulse through her. His body was strong and firm in all 
the right places. 'I want to fuck him, I want to fuck 
him' the sensual part of her mind insisted, despite the 
resistance of her common sense.

Wes pulled up her tee-shirt. Sheryl giggled, then 
wriggled so he could get it up far enough to cup her tits 
in his hands. It felt exceptionally good, he knew how to 
handle them. She felt his cock against her again, harder 
than ever. Her cunt was open and ready and soaking her 
knickers with juice. After a few minutes, he moved his 
hands down to her arse, pulling up her skirt to feel it. 
God, that feels good!

After a couple of minutes, his hands went up to her waist 
and slipped down inside her knickers. Suddenly worried 
about being seen by anyone in the corridor, she looked 
around. With relief, she saw they were sufficiently 
hidden to do anything they wanted. Wes knew that already. 
He eased her knickers down over her arse to the tops of 
her thighs. I ought to be stopping him, she thought, but 
I don't want to. I can't. And if he does fuck me, I stand 
a very good chance of getting pregnant.

Quickly, he slid her knickers down her legs and she 
stepped out of them. When he rose from his stooped 
position, his hand ran up between her thighs. She parted 
them and seconds later felt his fingers come to rest 
against her aching, wet opening. He stroked it for a 
while, allowing his middle two fingers to slide inside 
her. Very quickly, Sheryl quivered her way to an orgasm. 
Her common-sense control was slipping away by the moment. 
Her lack of any birth-control method seemed much less 
important then her frantic urge that he should fuck her 
senseless.

Sheryl started undoing the buttons of his shirt. When it 
was off and she could feel his delicious skin, he pulled 
up her tee-shirt. She laughed as he pulled it over her 
head and off. Her bra soon followed and, at last, he 
could fondle her tits as he wished.

Perhaps this is it, thought Sheryl, he just wanted to 
feel my tits and finger-fuck me. At least that's safe. 
But then Wes' hands went to his trousers. In no time, 
they were undone and, with his boxers, on their way down 
his legs and off. 

Sheryl's eyes bulged as she saw his splendid erection. 
Transfixed, she couldn't take her eyes from it as Wes 
found the zip to her skirt and undid it. It fell off. 
They were both naked. Oh, God, she thought, what am I 
going to do? Just go with the flow, I guess, because I 
don't think I can stop it.

"Over here," gasped Wes. He sat down on a parcel, and 
Sheryl instantly knew what he wanted her to do. His cock 
was standing rigid, upright. He reached out, putting his 
hands on her hips, pulling her towards him. He was 
definitely not going to use a condom. Common sense told 
her it might not be safe to fuck him, his sperm would go 
straight to her waiting, fertile egg, but that was now 
all but run out. The power of her sex-drive simply 
overwhelmed every objection and her resistance vanished.

Shaking with nerves and excitement, Sheryl straddled him. 
Then, under the guidance of his hands, she lowered 
herself so her cunt lips rested against his knob. Wes' 
hands on her hips pushed her downwards, and she felt her 
cunt push down round his knob and then the top of his 
shaft. It felt wonderful. Letting herself go, she screwed 
her body down further and further onto his splendid 
member. Her young, tight cunt stretched until the hot 
thickness filled it. She relaxed at last, legs wide 
apart, sitting on his lap, his cock inside her to the 
root.

And then Wes started to grind his hips, and so they 
started to fuck. Every fear about unprotected sex 
vanished as his pubic bone ground against her clit. In 
less than thirty seconds, Sheryl had crashed into the 
kind of orgasm her body had been yearning for ever since 
she'd got on the train. She bucked and writhed on him, 
coming easily and repeatedly. Wes did divine things with 
her tits, both with his mouth and his hands.

Their fucking developed a wonderful pattern. Wes ground 
his arse quicker and quicker which meant Sheryl screwed 
her cunt onto him more and more vigorously, and they'd 
build up until Sheryl came. Four, five times they 
repeated it, until Sheryl found it difficult to repeat 
the exercise. So Wes lifted her from him. She saw his 
cock glistening with all the cum-juice she'd leaked.

"Over here," he gasped once more, rising and moving her 
towards a long, wide package on the floor. Sheryl 
understood at once he wanted her to lie down and did so. 
She parted her legs wide, lifting up her knees, pushing 
up her slippery opening to him. If he wanted to fuck her 
some more, it was exactly what she wanted, too.

Wes did. Lowering himself to her, he pushed his hardness 
right inside in one easy thrust. Sheryl groaned, then 
screwed her arse as Wes started an urgent rhythm of 
thrusts, plunging his cock in as far it would go every 
time. Sheryl felt the pace get quicker and quicker and 
knew the inevitable was fast approaching.

Wes grunted, seized her back tightly with both hands, and 
then Sheryl had the familiar but always delicious feeling 
of warm semen spurting out deep inside her. She didn't 
quite come herself but felt intense pleasure and 
satisfaction. She always did when a boy came inside her.

Afterwards, Wes rose from her and, laughing a little with 
the slight embarrassment that they could have been so 
blatantly enthusiastic to fuck, they searched for their 
discarded clothing. Sheryl pulled on her top without 
bothering with her bra, stuffing it the bottom of her 
bag. She was about to restore her knickers when she was 
conscious of how much her cunt was leaking with Wes's 
cum. Quickly, she wiped her cunt with the knickers and 
put them to join her bra in the bag.

Wes looked at her, those lovely young nipples pushing 
against the tight tee-shirt, her arse that might actually 
be exposed when she bent over and felt a distinct urge to 
fuck her all over again. There wasn't time, he thought 
with regret. He pulled her to him and contented himself 
with a lengthy kiss and an exploration of her body.

Soon afterwards, Wes was gone, and Sheryl was left alone 
in her compartment again, apart from the elderly couple 
and the husband and wife in their thirties, sat more or 
less opposite her. The wife was asleep, soundly so, but 
the husband increasingly allowed his eyes to roam over 
Sheryl's body. She worked out that he knew that she and 
Wes had gone somewhere else to have sex, and the thought 
thrilled her. The sexual high brought about by the 
fucking she'd had was still fizzing through her.

Sheryl found she'd parted her legs a little and the man 
was looking up her skirt. Let's give him a real thrill, 
she thought. A sixteen year old girl shouldn't be 
exposing herself like this, she knew that, but once more 
her common sense appeared to have vanished. Looking 
apparently absent-mindedly out of the window, she parted 
her legs much wider. She saw from his reflection he was 
transfixed by what he could see. 

Still apparently without thought, she parted her legs 
wider still, slumped down a little and lifted one leg 
slightly. The result was to present to him a clear vision 
of her open cunt, her open, juicy, recently-fucked cunt 
that was still slippery with Wes' cum.

Sheryl held the pose for quite some minutes. Managing to 
steal a glance at the man's crotch, she could see the 
bulge where his cock was standing up rigid. She felt 
pleased, smug even. Gradually, she closed her legs, 
knowing she'd have to prepare to get off the train in a 
few minutes. She sat, apparently quite demure, apart from 
the lack of a bra, until she saw the train was entering 
her town, and she prepared to get up.

The exhibition had been intended to be just that, it 
honestly had. A follow-up hadn't been in Sheryl's mind, 
however sexually aroused she was. However, when she moved 
to pull her bag from between the opposite seats, she had 
to bend over to do so. Unintentionally, she kept her legs 
straight, so the hem of her skirt went right up at the 
back. As her legs were apart and she'd disposed of her 
knickers, the man was presented with a vision of her cunt 
far closer to him than Sheryl had ever considered.

His hands rested on her thighs first. Sheryl nearly 
jumped but didn't move, enjoying the naughtiness of it. 
But then she felt him slide his palms upwards, one to her 
hips, caressing her delightfully, the other right up to 
her exposed cunt. The lips were open, she knew they were, 
and still slippery with cum, so the man's fingers could 
slip inside quite easily. They did, pushing in as far as 
he could, slowly, deliciously, two or three times, before 
his finger-tips found the mound of her clitoris.

Sheryl knew she must pull away, she knew she must. She 
was being publicly explored in the most intimate way 
possible. She must straighten up, that's what she must 
do, and she must do it now.

But she didn't. Instead, on an increasing tide of sexual 
excitement, she parted her legs a little further and 
pushed out her arse to him. It was utterly shameless, she 
knew it was, but she was so aroused she was past caring. 
Let him finger-fuck me if he wants to. And I want him to. 
The train will be in the station in a couple of minutes 
anyway, so what the hell? The man continued to use both 
hands on her cunt, her clit and her arse.

The train started to slow and so, reluctantly, she moved 
to straighten up. The man's hands slid from her. Sheryl 
pulled her back from beneath the seat and thought that 
was it.

"Thank you," said the man quietly.

"My pleasure," said Sheryl, smiling her cheekiest smile.

"Now then," he said, conversationally, "move over there," 
- he gestured towards the next set of seats at the very 
end of the carriage, which were empty - "and take your 
clothes off."

Sheryl was stunned. What had he said? Exposing herself to 
him, even letting him finger-fuck her, yes, but more than 
that?

"Take your clothes off," he repeated softly.

"But...?"

"Take your clothes off." He said it so matter-of-factly. 
"We're going to fuck."

"What? I couldn't. Not here."

"Yes you could. Just do it."

The train was slowing even more now.

"But I've got to get off here." She suddenly realised she 
hadn't said 'no' to the idea of fucking him.

"That doesn't matter. Take off your clothes. We're going 
to fuck."

Sheryl's mind reeled. The idea was, indeed, very exciting 
to the substantial part of her that was thoroughly 
stirred up sexually, but his wife was on the seat here, 
for God's sake!

"I can't. My mother's waiting for me. This is where I get 
off."

"There's another station soon. Phone here on your mobile. 
Say you fell asleep. There's a train back very soon."

The train was slowing right down.

"I can't," Sheryl said plaintively.

"Yes you can. Take off your clothes, we're going to fuck. 
Here, I'll help you."

He stood up and moved her gently over to the seat he had 
in mind. This isn't happening, thought Sheryl. I can't do 
it. I do want to fuck again, though, a hell of a lot. The 
man found the zip at the back of her skirt and pulled it 
down. Sheryl's skirt slipped easily over her hips and 
down to her ankles. She felt his hands slide up under her 
tee-shirt, working it over her tits. 

Involuntarily, she lifted her arms so he could take it 
off. She was naked again.
As the train drew to a halt in the station, anyone at the 
very end of the platform would have seen a man deftly 
removing his trousers to reveal a swollen, stiff 
erection. Fortunately, there was no-one, least of all 
Sheryl's mother. Sheryl hadn't moved in the few seconds 
it had taken him to strip, awaiting his good pleasure.

The risks she'd seen earlier in the day no longer seemed 
relevant. She'd fucked Wes already, and it was at least 
possible he'd got her pregnant already, so what the hell? 
And she was still feeling very horny. She needed another 
fucking and the man had realised it. He was going to give 
it her, too. His hands lightly rested on her hips.

"Kneel on the seat," he said quietly.

Sheryl did so, instantly realising what he wanted to do. 
Parting her legs and thrusting out her arse, her lithe 
young body was perfectly positioned for him. She felt his 
knob against the top of her thigh. It moved to the parted 
pink lips where it belonged. The man pushed forward 
slightly and for the second time in an hour, Sheryl felt 
her cunt opened up by a warm, impressively large, 
erection.

He knew how to fuck her, he really did, screwing his body 
so his cock moved in and out of her cunt but with the 
maximum of intensity. There was an orgasm on the way, 
Sheryl could feel it, and it was going to be wonderful. 
It was, mind-blowingly so. She tried to keep herself 
silent, she'd wake his wife, surely, but the sheer thrill 
of fucking so openly right in front of her, in front of 
anyone who chose to look through the window, added 
immensely to her sensations.

The train started to move again. The man didn't stop, 
anything but, fucking her firmly and rhythmically as they 
moved past crowds of people. They must have seen them, 
surely, the man and the girl fucking freely on the rear 
seat of the train? And her mother? The thought petrified 
and thrilled her at once.

The man's fucking came in waves, getting quicker and 
harder until he felt her come, then slowing again. Each 
time, Sheryl felt her plateau of excitement getting 
higher, the third time she felt she might pass out. But 
then she felt the man groan and grunt and she knew what 
would follow. Sure enough, he felt her seize her hips, 
push his cock right inside her and start to quiver. The 
familiar sensation of cum spurting out inside her felt 
both electrifying and relieving at once. She did love it 
when men came inside her like that.

The man waited until he'd quite finished before slowly 
withdrawing his cock. His hands released her hips. Sheryl 
moved from her kneeling position and, as quietly as 
they'd stripped naked, the pair redressed. Once more, 
Sheryl found she needed her knickers, not to wear but to 
wipe away copious amounts of cum leaking from her cunt.

"Thank you," said the man when they gently sat down, as 
he'd done before.
Sheryl giggled.

"My pleasure."

She opened her legs to give him a good sight of her cunt, 
again recently-fucked, but this time it was the man's own 
cum seeping from between the open, juicy lips.

The train slowed again. This time, Sheryl did pick up her 
bag and leave, but not before she'd phoned her mother 
who, naturally, had been concerned. Twenty minutes later, 
they were re-united. Sheryl wasn't aware her mother had 
noticed her flushed cheeks, absence of bra or knickers, 
and the faint but unmistakable aroma of fresh sperm. She 
assumed Sheryl knew about birth control. Her period was 
due soon. Sex was fine, she'd expected her to be fucking 
by now, but a baby she didn't need.

Sheryl went to bed, contented. Her mother had probed 
around the edges of what she done on the train without 
asking any questions too directly. It had become a game, 
with Sheryl dropping hints but no more.

The point was, it hadn't been Wes who'd threatened the 
regularity of her periods. The truth had been very 
different and would have horrified her mother, she was 
sure.

Two afternoons before she'd been supposed to come home, 
Sheryl had been lying out in the sun, as she'd done for 
the previous few days. She'd found a secluded position in 
the grounds of the farmhouse and had used it almost every 
day. She'd stripped to her knickers to get as close to an 
overall tan as she dared

That afternoon, her sexual drive had been at its most 
intense, not leaving her alone for an instant. 
Eventually, she'd done what she'd previously been doing 
only in bed, every morning and every evening. She 
wriggled her knickers right off, pulled up her knees wide 
and allowed her fingers to caress her cunt and her clit 
and bring her relief. For these few days every month, 
when her cycle neared its height, masturbation became a 
necessity, not a choice, and she needed lots of it.

After her second orgasm, she was feeling more contented 
but very aroused. Masturbating naked outside like this 
had delivered particular pleasure. What she hadn't 
bargained for was that her uncle should have observed her 
and then approached her, slowly, almost stealthily, not 
wanting to make her jump.

"Oh, God!" she gasped when she knew he was there, 
standing near her feet. Her hands went to cover her cunt 
and her tits. Had he seen her working herself off? He 
must have done. Hell, what was she going to do?

"It's not like it looks," she lied. Astonishingly, she 
still felt sexually close to the boil. The shock of 
discovery had served only to diminish the arousal 
slightly.

"Yes, it is," he smiled, and started to undress. "They're 
quite natural for girls of your age, strong sexual 
urges."

She couldn't reply, not knowing what to do next. The 
thought of fucking him had, indeed, been an option that 
had shot through her mind.

John sensed her embarrassment.

"Perhaps it would help if I undressed too?"

In what seemed like no time, he'd stripped to his boxers. 
Sheryl felt that, by now, she should have had her dress 
on and been marching back to the farmhouse, but she 
wasn't. Transfixed, she watched him pull down the boxers, 
to be presented with as big and long an erection as she'd 
ever seen. Oh, my God, she thought, he does want to fuck 
me! What do I do now? I can't! Can I?

The problem was, a lot of her was very desperate for him 
to fuck her. She couldn't though, she thought, the risk 
was enormous. She looked at his cock, which was starting 
to leak pre-cum. It was very exciting. He was kneeling in 
front of her now, close to her legs, very close. I can't, 
she thought, I absolutely can't.

"I'm not on the pill," she breathed. "I can't. The wrong 
time."

"You'll be fine," said John, smiling, "just fine. It'll 
be no problem."

These girls always get it wrong, he thought. Every time I 
fuck them, they think they'll get pregnant.

"I'm not sure," gasped Sheryl. Not sure? She was dead 
certain!

"You'll be fine," he soothed, "it always is. Just do what 
comes naturally."

Sheryl knew what that would be - fucking, and lots of it.

John moved across and she allowed him to put his hands on 
her. There followed minutes on end of increasing arousal 
as he caressed her in all the right places. 

Soon, he focused only on her nipples and her open, 
slippery crotch. His fingertips found her clit and 
stroked it delicately, over and over. Sheryl was highly 
aroused already, so John's stroking merely transported 
her into a massive orgasm, and another and then another. 
All she could think of was fucking John, how much and how 
often. All thoughts of protecting her womb against the 
potency of his sperm were forgotten.

John moved easily between her legs, moving them apart and 
lifting her knees up high. Then, Sheryl felt his knob 
resting against her juicy opening. John pushed forwards 
and his prick entered her, stretching her pussy wide. 
Gradually and deliciously, his shaft pushed further and 
further inside her until she felt his balls come up 
against her arse.

And then she was being fucked, wonderfully, gloriously 
fucked. As the fucking got firmer and quicker, Sheryl 
squirmed and writhed ever more vigorously beneath her 
much older partner, wanting more and more of him. The 
divine copulation lasted for what felt like for ever 
before, at last, Sheryl felt John quiver and shake. He 
groaned, and then she felt him squirting jet after jet of 
warm cum really close to her womb.

Afterwards, he lay with her for a while.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he grinned.

"No," she sighed, "it was lovely!"

Sheryl wasn't lying. The risk of pregnancy was high but 
not that high, not yet, but it would be tomorrow and 
especially the next day. Still, if there was a next time, 
and she thought there could be, she'd have to tell him to 
be careful.

Trying to be relaxed and casual, Sheryl slipped into her 
sundress, pushing her bra and knickers into her bag. John 
had pulled on his shorts and shirt and it was like it had 
never happened, except for the tell-tale flush in 
Sheryl's cheeks after so many orgasms.

Slowly, they ambled back to the house. Sheryl caught 
sight of Kirsten in the orchard, chatting with the 
village lad, Brian, who she'd seen helping out in the 
garden sometimes. She went up the stairs, and was nicely 
conscious that John followed her. He must have had a very 
good view of her arse and pussy, she thought, and got 
excited again.

John followed her into her bedroom. Without a pause, he 
moved her to her bed. Smiling, he found the zip to her 
dress and undid it. Sheryl smiled back, let the dress 
fall to the floor and lay down on the bed, knowing he 
wanted to fuck her again. John slipped out of his shorts 
and shirt, moved to the bed with her, and the whole 
exquisite process started again. This time, John fucked 
her for longer but with greater intensity, and Sheryl 
just came and came. And when eventually John did unload 
his cum inside her, Sheryl felt quite flooded with it, 
there was so much.

That evening, she at last realised what John and Kirsten 
were really about. Quite openly, Kirsten was seducing 
Brian, probably not for the first time that day. That was 
obviously the deal - John could fuck the girls if she 
could fuck the boys. That night, she was hardly into bed 
before John joined her, a fresh erection at the ready. 
Kirsten had clearly taken Brian to her own bed. John 
fucked her in the morning, too, a lovely way to be woken 
and the first time it had happened as it was the first 
time she'd slept all night with anyone.

The next day passed in a blissful sexual haze as John 
pleasured her, and so himself, at regular intervals. 
Sheryl's brain went into suspended animation concerning 
the pregnancy risk, allowing herself to think it was only 
likely to happen, if at all, on the next day, when she'd 
be safely on the way home. That was when, she'd convinced 
herself, the real fertile period started. Just now, she 
was safe still, surely?

But then John came and spent the night with her again. It 
was like a drug, she couldn't refuse. She didn't want to 
refuse, she was eager for him, he fucked her so 
beautifully. And in the morning, perhaps her first 
fertile morning, John fucked her for the last time, 
lengthily and deeply. And he delivered her a massive load 
of cum, as close to her womb as he could. Her fertile 
womb? Not until later in the day, surely?

Sheryl thanked both John and Kirsten when she left for a 
wonderful holiday. The last few days, at least, had been 
fantastic! Kirsten looked a lot more content than a few 
days ago, too, so Brian had clearly done her some good! 
When they put her on the train, Sheryl could still feel 
the last of John's cum oozing out onto the crotch of her 
knickers, and her pussy was warm and gently throbbing. So 
never mind the risk, she'd been halfway to fucking Wes 
even before she'd seen him.

Sheryl had not long got home when a friend, Jackie, 
phoned. Would she like to go out tonight, to celebrate 
coming home? Yes, she would! And so it was that they got 
hit on by a couple of especially juicy lads in a club 
that, strictly speaking, they should not have been in. 
Sheryl lied about her age, telling her lad she was a 
young-looking eighteen. She lied that it didn't matter if 
she went home or not, and lied when she phoned her mother 
to tell her she was staying at Jackie's house overnight, 
just as Jackie lied to her mother, telling her she was 
going to Sheryl's place.

And Sheryl lied that she didn't really care if she went 
back to the lad's flat - she did care, very much! And she 
lied when they got into bed, telling him she was on the 
pill, and she lied to herself that she was probably safe 
from pregnancy. The lad fucked her, repeatedly and 
magnificently, overnight and again in the morning.

Naturally, a fortnight later, Sheryl wasn't entirely 
surprised that a regular monthly event didn't happen on 
the day it was supposed to. For a couple of days, there 
was no action, and a third and a fourth. Sheryl was numb 
inside, unable to feel anything. She'd have to get a test 
kit later in the day to confirm the inevitable.

Her mother found her that evening in her bedroom, sitting 
on the edge of the bed, crying. She had on her tee-shirt 
and nothing else, which was unusual.

"Is something wrong?" asked her mother.

"It's okay, mum, I'll be fine."

The tears were not all they seemed. He mother hadn't 
noticed Sheryl's knickers on the other side of the room. 
The crotch was stained dark red. The tears were ones of 
relief.

END

Comments and opinions on Venturer's stories are always 
welcome to: venturer@wowmail.com

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Remember Venturer's Rule: Sex In The Head is great, but 
leave it in the imagination.  Stories are stories and 
should be seen as just that.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 23