EAGER BEAVER
by Jenny Wanshel


I needed a man. Bruce was gone. I was in love with him, but he was a 
married man, and he was as old as my father. I was only 15, and Bruce
had made me come during sex for the first time. So I naturally wanted
to do that some more.

A few weeks after Bruce left, Cindy dragged me to a party with some 
girls we knew to celebrate our graduation from the 9th grade. There 
were boys there. I was depressed and Cindy had to force me, scowling, 
to play "Seven Minutes in Heaven".

Billy Hibbert drew my name from the jar and he was thrilled, since I 
had bigger tits than any other girl at the party. He lived around the 
corner and my mother suggested once that I go out with him, but I 
generally thought he was a bit of a dweeb.
 
I went in the closet with him and let him tongue-kiss me and touch me 
under my bra for the regulation seven minutes. I was miserable through 
the whole thing. I doubt my nipples were erect for more than a few
seconds.

He would have had better luck if he had drawn Amy Ziffel. She had finally
developed enough bosom to fill up an A-cup, and now that she wasn't 
completely flat-chested anymore she was eager to let some boy be the 
first to feel her small new breasts. She told us all about it later when 
we compared notes after the party. Amy was 14, and she was so thrilled 
when the lucky boy got his hand in her new bra she almost had an orgasm.
He probably never realized it, but she was so excited that if he had 
tried to pull her panties down and screw her she would have given it up 
without a fight. 

The boys were just as inexperienced as we were.

Unlike Amy, I had no enthusiasm for this game. I unhooked my bra and
let 14 year old Billy get a good feel of my big breasts, but I was 
just going through the motions, since I had played before and knew what 
was expected. I brushed my hand across his crotch and quickly felt the 
size of his erection, just as our time was up and they banged on the 
door, to confirm what I already suspected -- that he wasn't hung like 
Bruce down there. Well, how could he be? He was only a boy. He wasn't 
even as tall as me.

When I heard the oven timer go off I remembered to hook my bra back 
up before I came out of the closet with Billy, so I avoided making
a spectacle of myself. Amy looked like she had been hit by a tornado 
when she came out, with her hair mussed, most of her buttons undone, 
her shirt askew, and carrying her bra in one hand. Everyone laughed 
and she blushed, proudly.

Later that summer the boy next door fell off the roof trying to peep 
in my window and see me undressing, but other than that the summer 
was uneventful.

I had one of my first wet dreams around this time, at least that
I could recall afterward. I dreamed that I was a novice nun, and I
went to vespers or whatever with the other nuns. While we were
assembling in the chapel I looked down at myself and saw to my
horror that my habit was bunched up, pasted to my wet, sticky
thighs, and you could see my legs and semen was running down them.

I tried to cover myself up but I couldn't, it just got worse. The 
Mother Superior came over to look at me and my habit had hiked up 
even farther now and I tried to cover myself with my hands, but 
she could see that my labia were engorged and my hole stretched 
wide open from where some man's big dick had obviously plowed me. 
So they expelled me from the covent. I woke up from that dream and 
my thighs really were dripping, not with some man's semen, but 
with my own secretions.

At that age I was starting to masturbate about once a week. Once
I discovered how to come easily I began doing it regularly.

Sometimes I would draw a bath and luxuriate in the bubbles while I 
slowly massaged my mound of Venus with my hand, but more often I 
would masturbate in bed after lights out, slipping my hand into my 
pajama bottoms and finding my hot clitoris waiting to be touched. 

I would think about doing it with Bruce again, or about Richard Gere, 
or about a big black stallion mounting a timid little mare for her 
first time, or about being a cheerleader and getting gang-banged by 
the whole football team under the bleachers after the game. (It was 
widely believed in my school that a girl named Michelle had actually 
done this). 

I went on a weekend trip with my Girl Scout troop to the mountains. 
Instead of camping out in the rain we did the sensible thing and stayed 
at a resort conference center. During the course of the weekend somebody 
passed around a copy of "My Secret Garden" and I hogged it for a whole 
night and read it from cover to cover. 

This greatly expanded the horizons of my masturbatory fantasies, 
although parts of it really grossed me out. As I recall, 80% of the 
pencilled comments in the margins were "eww, gross!!", and the other 
20% were "I can't believe a dog would do that" or "omigod, I think 
I just orgasmed!!!" -- with the crucial text heavily underlined. 

I read about the difference between clitoral and vaginal orgasms in 
Cosmopolitan and worked on trying to have a vaginal orgasm. I enjoyed
vaginal stimulation but I couldn't come just from friction inside my
vagina. I didn't have a vibrator at that age, but I sometimes used 
the handle of a hairbrush. Another girl I knew in Girl Scouts showed 
me her Mom's vibrator, and we shrieked with giggles when she switched 
it on and it whirred. When I went to college one of the girls in my 
dorm had a big black dildo, the first I had ever seen. 

Cindy and I started high school that fall, and there were senior boys 
there who loomed a foot taller than us. Compared to the junior high 
boys we had dated they almost looked like men. School wasn't two weeks 
old before Cindy asked around in the girl's locker room and found out 
which of the senior boys had a reputation for being well-hung.

Not that we were size queens or anything. After my experience with
Bruce, Cindy had decided that his big grown-up dick was what did it for 
me, and I just needed to find another one. I thought that I came for 
Bruce because I was in love, and that I needed a mature grown man, not
a boy, and that a grown man naturally had a bigger dick than a mere 
boy.

I did my best to flirt with the two male teachers I had classes with. 
I started wearing short skirts and tight sweaters and batting my 
eyelashes. I owned some nice lingerie that I bought with my Christmas 
money, and sometimes I wore the stockings and garter belt to school and 
hiked up my skirt to adjust them when one of my adult male targets was 
looking. I eventually got a rise out of my English teacher, Mr. Phelps. 
He was an attractive, dark-haired man of about 40, and one day after 
the last bell when no one was around he put his hand up my skirt. 

No man had ever grabbed me like that. It took me completely by surprise, 
so much that I started to put up a fight. He pushed me gently against a 
blackboard, grabbed me from behind and groped in my panties under my skirt.

I squealed "Stop! Stop! What are you doing?", but not really loud 
enough for anyone to hear because who wants a whole bunch of people 
to come running and find her with a teacher's hand up her snatch?

It was all my fault of course, since I had been sitting with my skirt
hiked up and coyly (if that's the word) winking my thighs open to show 
my underpants when he glanced in my direction. Since I sat in the 
second row near his desk, he had a good view of the lovely way my taut 
white cotton panties stretched over the cute little chestnut-furred 
muff between my plump white thighs.

I was just trying to be noticed, really.

He was completely distracted from the lesson during class and kept 
repeating himself and starting sentences over. About every ten seconds
his eyes flicked in my direction, but except for the startled look on
his face the first time I let him see up my skirt he kept a poker face.

Apparently this teasing had the desired effect, since he took the bait 
and jumped me. What had I been expecting? That he would ask me on a date?

I wouldn't have teased him so recklessly if I hadn't taken a bad hit 
to my confidence when I made it clear to an older man who worked with 
my father that I was interested in him, and he turned me down with
patronizing amusement. I felt humiliated, and after that I had to 
prove that even though I was only 15 I could attract a grown man.

Mr. Phelps didn't respond with condescension or patronizing amusement
when I started flirting with him that September. I became more and
more aggressive and bold in my flirting, dabbing on a little perfume,
letting my hand brush his when I handed in a paper, and unbuttoning 
a couple of extra buttons on my blouse before leaning over his desk. 
I looked like a Vogue ad for Maidenform bras.

So one day without warning he just grabbed me. 

I was so surprised and unnerved that I kept repeating "Please, don't!" 
while he grabbed me under my skirt -- but at the same time, my hungry
thighs spread themselves apart to give him better access. I was 
surprised to feel this happening since I had been thinking I had 
better close them.

The touch of his big masculine hand discovering my warm quivering slit 
through my panties was so thrilling that I whimpered in excitement. 

My heart was beating so fast I thought it would burst.

I braced myself against the blackboard to keep from falling down and 
he flipped my skirt up over my ass while I spread my feet wider. He 
clutched my warm little muff in his strong hand and squeezed it. 

My pussy drooled the moment he touched it. Within seconds my secretions
were dripping.

A tidal wave of lust seethed through my body. My clitoris jutted out 
erect against the taut cotton of my panties and he started rubbing it, 
and I just went completely bananas. I leaned against the blackboard and 
gasped and heaved as he flicked and brushed my clit. It was unbelievably 
hard and sensitive. It was like lightning running through my cunt. 

There I was, a 15 year old schoolgirl in glasses, with a grown man's 
hands under my plaid skirt fondling me through my white cotton panties. 
The gusset of my panties was soaked with my secretions and clinging 
wetly to the swollen lips of my pussy as he stroked me. I started 
rubbing my pussy against his hand to get his fingers in deeper.

After a few minutes of desperately humping his hand I tilted my head 
back and whimpered like an animal as I started to come. 

"O-o-ohhhh!! Ooooh-o-o-o-o...!"   Thank you, Mr. Phelps. 

My climax was magnificent. He kept stroking me while I shuddered and
my hips convulsed, and he nuzzled the nape of my neck. "You've got a 
big one," he whispered in my ear. He meant my clit. It felt huge. It 
had never been that big before and it wasn't that big again, the 
next time I got it excited. Something -- the phase of the moon, our 
pheromones, my desperate need for an orgasm -- made it swell up as 
big and hard as a thimble when he touched me through my panties. 

My inner thighs were wet. The crotch of my panties was soaked. I leaned 
against the blackboard, trembling and gasping, so flustered I was almost
choking back tears.

There was a big empty space deep inside me that wanted something long 
and hard and thick to be thrust up inside it and fill me up.

With trembling fingers I started to pull my panties down. I didn't 
know if I could endure three or four more orgasms like that, but I 
was resigned to my fate. Death by ecstasy, so be it.

I spread my legs and closed my eyes tight, and waited for for him to 
unzip and mount me. I waited to feel his massive intruder spreading 
the lips of my vulva.

Nothing happened. 

I opened my eyes, turned around and looked at him.

He had gotten his hands out of my skirt quickly, once I was done, 
and now he was sitting back at his desk examining some papers, making 
like nothing was happening and nothing had happened. He wasn't even 
looking at me. 

What had just happened between us never happened, as far as he was 
concerned. I was standing there with my panties bunched around one
ankle, my face flushed, and the unmistakable smell of my hot dripping
vagina filling the air, and as far as he was concerned I was not there.

He continued to act like nothing had happened for the rest of the term.

I went over to him and put my hand on his zipper, intending to unzip
him. He pulled my hand away, and just said "No".
 
I went to the girls' bathroom and cried. Someone came in and asked 
what was wrong and I said I was having cramps.

He completely lost interest in me, or something. I have never figured 
it out. Nothing else ever happened between us. 

That was the closest I got to nailing a teacher, that term. It was 
only the third orgasm I had had with a male. 

I needed a man badly, and I kept getting rejected. I was ready to go 
down to the truck stop and offer myself to the first trucker that 
pulled in. "Hi mister, wanna give me a ride?" And then he would ride me. 

Cindy was my shoulder to cry on. She was the only person who knew 
what was going on with me, and she insisted that I should try going 
out with one of the senior boys.

After eliminating a boy named Raymond who was supposed to have a big
one but was fat, bloated and dorkish looking (he would have been easy 
to get, but we had standards), the boy Cindy had her eye on for me 
was a big hulking brute named Brad who was on the hockey team.
 
He was supposed, according to a girl who had been in the back seat of 
his car with him, to have a dick so big she refused to let him put it 
in her. "It would have split me in half," she said. There seemed to 
be a general consensus of rumor that Brad was in fact hung like an ox.

Purely in the interest of science and the spirit of friendship, Cindy 
was not going to let me try this hazardous experiment alone. She wanted 
to try out Brad too. I had had my first big dick, and my first big 
orgasm, with Bruce, and she had had neither, and she wanted to see if 
she got the same results I had. Coming during intercourse was a new 
discovery.

Meanwhile I continued showing off my cleavage to my other male 
teachers, after giving up on Mr. Phelps. This caused some problems, 
resulting in the confiscation of a certain 34C black lace-trimmed 
pushup bra and matching garter belt, when the assistant principal 
sent home a note requesting that I not be allowed to come to school 
with my cleavage showing. "You can have it back," she told me, "when 
you go on your honeymoon." (The lingerie, that is, not my cleavage.)

"I'm not going to show you what she was wearing," my mother told my 
dad, "but it ought to be against the law to sell that sort of underwear 
to a girl her age." This resulted in my dad, who never made fun of me, 
making a joke out of asking me whether I was bearing any "illegal 
armaments" when I went to school the next morning.

Mother then preceded to humiliate me with an "weapons inspection" 
before she let me go to school. She looked in my blouse to make sure 
I was wearing a plain white cotton underwire bra, and then I had to 
lift my skirt to prove I wasn't wearing anything underneath but 
pantyhose. Dad left the room to spare my feelings.

These inspections recurred periodically for a few weeks until she 
forgot about it. 

Meanwhile Cindy was making friends with some kids who knew Brad, the
allegedly well-endowed hockey player, so she could get introduced to him. 

She made fairly rapid progress and by the end of a month she was 
sitting at Brad's table in the cafeteria during lunch, an amazing 
accomplishment for a sophomore and one she wouldn't have been capable 
of if she hadn't had an utterly tawdry ulterior motive. 

Brad was no match for the wiles of the 15 year old huntress, and one
day Cindy came up to me in the hallway beaming.

"He spoke to me! We had an actual conversation!" I didn't have to ask 
who "he" was.

"Oh, that's wonderful," I said, although I was actually pretty leery
of the whole deal. Brad didn't do much for me, in spite of his reputation.

"I want you to meet me after the last bell. I have a plan."

"What plan?" I asked, but I never did find out, because at just that
moment Brad came lumbering down the hall in our direction, and Cindy
made a little "eek!" noise, grabbed me by the arm and dragged me over
to him. 

"Brad, this is my friend Jenny," she said. I looked him up and down.

He was as big as a truck but I didn't feel like I was in the presence
of a demi-god, or even a real man. He was just a big dumb awkward boy.

I didn't even see a particularly noticeable lump in his jeans.

"Hi, Jenny, pleased to meetcha," he said, looking me up and down and
pausing when he saw my chest. I was no longer one of the largest girls
in the school, now that I was in high school and there were at least 
twenty junior and senior girls in D cups. But still, my bosom was my
most prominent feature, and Brad was talking to it instead of looking 
me in the eyes.

"I heard you're on the hockey team, Brad. When does the season start?"
I was trying to do my bit get the conversational ball rolling.

"Eh, not until December. Think you two might come to a game and check us
out?" (I wasn't sure if the two he referred to meant me and Cindy, or 
the two he was looking at under my sweater).

"Why yes, we are definitely planning to check you out," Cindy said. 
"That was just what we had in mind."

"I was the third leading scorer on the team last season."

"We've heard your stats are very impressive, and you score a lot. 
We'd love to see you do it. If we come to a game will you make a 
goal for us?"

"I might," he said. 

"We'd like that."

"You girls are pretty cool, you know, for sophomores," Brad assured us.

"You're so sweet! So Brad, we have something we'd like to ask you," 
Cindy said.

"Shoot."

"Go ahead, tell him, Jenny."

(Tell him what?) "Tell him what?"

"Jenny and I want to ask you out, Brad. Like on a date."

"Both of you?" He looked confused. I was staggered. I wanted to sink
into the earth.

"Yes, both of us. Like Friday night, 7 o'clock? You can pick us up
at my house and we'll go out."

"Where are we going?" Brad asked. I wanted to know too. 

"Oh, wherever. We'll just hang. We could go to a movie or something."

"I'm busy Friday night."

"Saturday, then." Then Cindy leaned up and whispered something in his
ear. Brad looked at me and smiled. 

"Ah, okay, Saturday. Cool. See ya then. Gimme your address."

Cindy gave him her address and negotiated a definite time, and he
walked away. I dragged Cindy into a quiet corner and asked her
what she had whispered in his ear.

"Oh, I just told him that you have like a total crush on him, and
you've been dying to meet him."

"Jesus freaking Christ! Cindy!" 

"Hey, I know him, okay? I knew what I was doing. Don't worry about it. 
Anyway, I told him before that my best friend was known as "The Bosom" 
in junior high and he's been wanting to meet you."

I wanted to murder Cindy, but what could I do. For the rest of the
week I felt like I was going to walk into the cafeteria and the whole 
school would be laughing at me, like Sissy Spacek in "Carrie". 

Well, for sophomores, we had balls, at least. Or Cindy did, anyway.

I went to sleep that night rubbing my pussy through my pajamas and 
dreaming of Bruce. 

Saturday after supper Cindy came over to help me dress. We picked 
out a tight-fitting ribbed knit top, no bra, and snug fitting jeans 
below. I pulled my hair back into a pony-tail and Cindy helped me 
put on just a little makeup. The minute we left the house I took off 
my glasses and stuck them in my purse. 

We told my parents I was going over to Cindy's house to study and 
that I would be spending the night over there. Don't wait up.

We told Cindy's mom we were going over to Orianne's house to 
study with her and Ruby. Orianne's parents were out of town, and
Cindy had arranged with her to cover for us.

Cindy's mom had a much more liberal curfew than mine -- we
weren't expected back until 11, and in practice she had a grace
period and we wouldn't really be in trouble if we got in before 
12. So we had until midnight.

Cindy had a simple plan -- take Brad out to the lake, park, and 
rape him. 

"We'll just rip his fuckin' clothes off, if we have to!" she said.

I had another idea. "Suppose we go out to the lake, and take our
suits, and go in swimming. There's no swimming at this time of year,
so no one will be there. We can go to the dock."

"I have a better idea. Suppose we forget to take our suits, and
go skinny-dipping. Think Brad would go for that?"

Most boys would go for seeing us naked on the first date, I guess.

I wanted to wear a suit because I was expecting my period soon and
wanted to wear a pad just in case, but Cindy talked me out of it. 

We decided to play it by ear and take it one step at a time, but
definitely try to steer him out to the lake and see what it looked
like once we got there.

Cindy had arranged with Brad to meet us around the corner at 7, so
we took off, dutifully carrying our book bags with us. We actually
had our school notebooks with us, along with Doritos, gum, breath
mints, and a dozen condoms, in two sizes -- regular and large.

Cindy regaled me by telling me how the male clerk's eyes had bugged 
out when she had asked if these were the largest condoms he had. 

We were wearing baggy sweatshirts to cover up the fact that we were
dressed for a date underneath. I was wearing sneakers, but I had my 
date shoes in my book bag.

I was still feeling pretty miserable and I was half convinced that
Brad would bring along a carload of his hockey team buddies and we 
would be gang-raped. If a bunch of boys made you pull a train you 
had to change your name and move to another town. It was not pleasant 
to contemplate.

Oddly enough, in the Girl Scouts we were not taught 20 silent ways 
to disembowel a horny male with a nail file. That would have made us 
feel a little more confident about high school dating. Their idea of 
making us feel more secure was dress shields.

Brad was waiting for us around the corner. He looked the perfect
gentleman. Any onlooker would have sworn we were right out of an
Archie comic book, two pony-tailed girls and a boy in a letter
sweater, heading down to the soda shop for malteds.

We hopped into his car and he pulled away from the curb. 

Cindy sat next to Brad in the front seat and I sat in the back. She 
knew how to handle him and we had decided that she would do the talking.

We went somewhere for a hamburger, and a shake, and then Cindy
observed what a mild night it was for October. It was Indian Summer. 

"This would be a great night to go out to the lake, wouldn't it."

I took my cue and agreed.

Brad was disappointed. He was holding out for the second Star Wars
movie, or whatever Lucas or Spielberg film it was that was breaking 
box office records that year. 

I wouldn't have minded seeing a movie myself, but we only had until
midnight, and it was already past 8. So we talked Brad into driving
us out to the lake. We wanted his undivided attention and we didn't 
feel like sharing him with Luke and Yoda.

Once we got out there we parked and walked down to the dock, which 
was only used in the summer when there was a lifeguard and swimming.

In the fall the lake was in theory closed up and nobody went there
much. There was a big raft that floated in the middle of the little
lake and the cool thing to do was to swim out there after midnight 
and drink beers or smoke dope on the raft.

"Let's swim out to the raft," Cindy said, after we had walked around 
the dock talking about whatever for a little while. Brad was thinking 
about college and telling us about the cool schools he planned to 
apply to.

"I don't have my trunks," Brad said.

"So let's go skinny-dipping. You want to?"

"I will if you will," I said.

Brad was looking at my bust again. "Okay," he said.

Cindy started taking off her clothes. Probably not without some 
embarrassment, since she had a skinny ass and she was wearing a 
padded bra. I knew Brad wouldn't be looking at her once I started 
undressing. I was the good-looking member of the team and Cindy 
was the brains. 

So I kicked off my shoes and started to wriggle out of my pants. 

Brad was mesmerized, and Cindy had to poke him to remind him that
he was supposed to be undressing too. He took his time about it,
one button at a time. I had my pants down around my ankles and 
turned around before leaning over to pull them off, so that he
could appreciate the sight of my panties stretched over my big ass.

When I turned around he had his shirt off, and he did have a big, 
muscular chest, with huge beefy shoulders. He was not hairy-chested 
like Bruce. His chest was smooth, and he still had baby-fat.

My shirt went all the way down to my thighs so I slowly slipped off my
panties and rolled them down, making a bit of a striptease out of it. 

"Damn, you've got nice legs," Brad commented. 

"Let's see your legs, Brad", Cindy suggested, and he started taking
his pants off. Underneath he was wearing ridiculous big boxer shorts.

Cindy was naked, her little blonde snatch glimmering in the 
moonlight. She didn't look half bad. Slender like a willow and 
very girlish. Brad was down to his socks and his boxer shorts, 
and I only had my tight knit top left to take off. I turned my 
back on Brad and peeled. 

My ass was exposed first, and then I had my shirt off. I held it 
in front of me, clutching it to my chest, and turned around. Brad 
was pulling off his shorts, bent over, but watching me, and as he
straightened up I saw his dick. Then I dropped my shirt on the dock
and put my hands down and uncovered my breasts. I put my hands on 
my hips and looked at him.

Brad stared at my breasts, with the expression of a dog looking at
a t-bone steak in a butcher shop window. Cindy and I stared hungrily 
back at his dick.  It was a big thick one, as advertised, and it was 
still soft. 

It was every inch as big soft as Bruce's had been. Cindy smiled at 
me as if to say, "See?".

He was hung like a man, or what I erroneously thought a man was
supposed to be hung like. The fact that Bruce was hung like a porn
star had given me greatly exaggerated expectations of what men were
built like. And Brad had big muscles too. To our inexperienced and
unjaded young eyes he looked like a Playgirl centerfold come to life.

I felt my nipples getting hard. I looked at Cindy and hers were
sticking out too. Maybe it was just the cool night air.

Brad bashfully placed his hands in front of his pubes. "Hey, what 
are you staring at? I'm going to get a woody if you keep lookin' 
at my nads like that."

Cindy covered her breasts and pussy with her hands in mock modesty. 
"You stop looking at us, then! C'mon, last one in the lake is a 
redneck. I'll race you to the raft."

And then we all dove into the water. Cindy started swimming out 
to the raft in the middle of the lake, and Brad and I followed. 

When we got out to the raft we clung to the side and horsed around 
in the water, splashing each other and so on, and Brad grabbed me 
from behind and got his hands on my breasts during the horseplay. 
I think he felt Cindy's firm little A-cup titties too. Then we 
climbed up on the raft to rest.

Brad's thing had shrunk to about half its size in the cool water.  

"Brad, I'm kinda cold," Cindy said. "Sit over here next to me and 
help me keep warm."

"We'll all sit together," I said, and we huddled against each other 
sitting with our backs against the lifeguard's elevated chair in the 
middle of the raft, with Brad's arms draped over our shoulders. 

We got comfortable and giggled and laughed. Brad wished that we
had some pot, which we didn't. He told us about how he and the
other guys on the team had thrown a party the previous weekend
at some kid's house while his parental units were out of town, 
filled a 40 gallon trash can with fruit juice and Everclear, 
gotten totally wasted and pretty much wrecked the place. Just 
another Saturday night. Cindy and I weren't old enough to go to 
senior class parties yet, so we never got invited to these things.

Cindy took his big strong hand and led it down from her shoulder 
until it was resting on her breast, cupping her nipple. I did the 
same on my side, placing his other hand on my breast. 

Cindy leaned up and kissed him. Then it was my turn, and I kissed 
him. He had some stubble on his chin that scratched me as he put 
his tongue in my mouth.

When we stopped kissing I looked down and Cindy had his dick in 
her hand, and it was growing bigger. It stretched an inch and 
another inch while I watched, as she squeezed it and stroked it. 
It was fascinating watching it grow long.

"I haven't seen very many boys naked, but it sure looks like you 
have a great big one, Brad," Cindy said. "Did any girl ever tell 
you that you're bigger than the other boys?"

"That's the first thing they all tell me, as soon as I unzip," Brad 
said. "Just about every girl says it's the biggest she's ever seen. 
The guys on the team call me Horsecock." 

I doubted they did, but he was truly gifted and well-endowed in the 
penis department. Nature hadn't given him much of a brain but she 
had really blessed him between his legs. The girls in the locker 
room hadn't lied.

It was sticking out from between his legs like a marble column. It 
was one of those gorgeous fat Tom of Finland penises that they have 
in magazines for gay men, which is why a lot of single women have one 
of those magazines hidden under the bed. Cindy had never seen one like 
it before and she was goggle-eyed. 

"It's beautiful!" Cindy said.
 
"That's a magnificent penis, Brad," I said. "May I touch it?"

"Use it, but don't bruise it," he said. 

Cindy moved her hands up to the top of his dick. I grabbed it
at the base. It was hot and throbbing in my hands. 

Cindy was trying to suck his knob, but she couldn't get it in her 
mouth. This was a girl who had only lost her virginity 12 months 
before, and who had performed maybe one blowjob in her life.

"Omigod, I can't get it in my mouth," she giggled. "It's too big."

I tried and I couldn't get it into my mouth either. The big juicy
knob on the end of his dick was bigger than my mouth. The best I
could do was to stick my tongue out and lick it up and down its
length. It tasted salty. 

My entire prior experience with blowjobs was limited to one attempt 
on a younger, smaller boy who complained that I was nicking him with 
my teeth. 

Brad was fondling my tits now, rubbing them hard. And I was getting 
turned on in spite of the lousy mood I had been in earlier. 

Cindy climbed on his lap and stuck one of her breasts in his mouth 
and let him suck it. I gave up trying to use my mouth on his big 
horse-cock and started jerking him off with my hands. I didn't 
have enough practice to be sure I was doing it well. 

"Switch places," Brad asked. He wanted to suck on my tits.

Cindy took over jerking him off while I put one of my tits in his 
mouth. He wrapped both of his hands around it and sucked like a 
little baby. It was sort of okay but it was also making me a little 
sore, so I was glad when he took his mouth away and said "Oh yeah, 
oh yeah, that's it, I'm gonna come real soon now."

I looked down in his lap where Cindy's hands were flying madly
as she pumped his wiener rapidly up and down. He moaned and a 
big jet of semen shot through the air in the moonlight.

Cindy had a look of smug satisfaction as she fired his big cannon.

"Oh yeah, oh yeah," Brad moaned. I was mildly disgusted, since Cindy 
had just wasted a perfectly good ejaculation, and we were going to 
have to get him hard again. He continued moaning and ejaculating 
until she pumped him dry.

The sight of that big thing shooting semen into the air was beautiful.
(And they can write their names in the snow with those things, too.)

We were all quiet for a minute, and I watched the moonlight dappling 
the waters of the lake that lapped softly against the raft.

"Bradley, you great big horny stud," Cindy said. "Would you like 
to fuck us?"

It wasn't the best time to ask, but he answered "Yeah."

"We've got condoms in my bag back at your car. Let's all swim back 
there," she said, "and then Jenny and I are going to fuck you."

And so, with our well-hung Adonis in tow, we swam back to the dock.

It was a balmy night and it was getting pretty dark, but there was
enough moonlight to see. Brad just happened to have a blanket in the 
trunk of his car -- I imagine it had already seen plenty of use on 
previous dates -- and we spread it out on the ground under the trees, 
away from the road and the dock where we could have some privacy. 

Cindy lay down on the blanket and spread her legs wide. In the 
moonlight I could see her bushy blonde snatch gaping. I didn't 
know what to do so I lay down next to her and spread my legs wide, 
with my knees bent. 

"Yoo hoo, Braaadd", Cindy purred. She was such a minx. Brad was 
standing there trying to air dry in the breeze and shivering a little.

"Which one of us do you want to fuck first, Mister Horsecock?" She 
stroked her breasts and thighs in a provocative manner and arched 
her back to thrust her pussy out at him. 

"Come here, Brad" I said. I made a little come hither gesture with 
my finger. Brad walked over and knelt between us.

He put one hand on Cindy's thigh and one hand on mine. We reached 
out and grabbed his limp cock. It was long enough that we could 
both get our greedy little hands on it at the same time. 

"Oh Brad," we squealed. We started jerking him, and then Cindy sat up
and got him into her mouth. I pulled his head down and fed him my tits.

There was nothing to be heard in that glade under the stars but 
sucking sounds as Cindy slurped at his dick and Brad sucked my sweet 
breasts. Then Brad got his hand on my pussy and started stroking me. 

I needed a little warming up after my immersion in the cold water. 
After a while I began encouraging him with little purring sounds.

Cindy made some choking noises. His cock was swelling up too big 
for her mouth. While Brad gave my hard nipples a tongue job, Cindy
pulled his dick out of her mouth and held it in her hands while 
she licked him erect. I watched him grow to full length in her hands.

"Brad," I whispered in his ear, "you are so huge". I hadn't had the 
sense to praise Bruce when he fed Miss Pussy his magnificent horsemeat. 
Since then I had figured out that men wanted to hear their big penises 
praised the same way I wanted them to tell me how big and sexy my 
breasts were. I found out what a lady was supposed to say from one of 
my Mom's trashy novels. "You're equipped like a stallion," I told him 
breathily. 

Brad did not say anything complimentary about my breasts. I guess he
had seen plenty of pairs of big cheerleader tits, and my proud, firm 
C-cup breasts counted as no more than "pretty good for a kid" in his 
book. At 15 I had the chest Jennifer Love Hewitt has today, but he 
wasn't impressed enough to say "Nice rack."

On the other hand, he was doing a pretty good job of sucking my knobs.
My nipples were as hard as pebbles.

Cindy had his numerous inches of long straight manhood standing hard 
and tall in the moonlight. She pushed him over onto his back and 
started straddling him. 

"Wait, I gotta put on something first," Brad said. He rolled on
one of the condoms that were lying on the edge of the blanket, and
she straddled him again. 

I wanted to go first. I hadn't a few minutes before but I had changed
my mind while he was sucking and stroking me. 

There wasn't anything I could do, though. I watched in amusement as
she had a great deal of trouble getting it in.

His dick was too big for her inexperienced hole. 

"It's the angle," I murmured in her ear. "And you need to be really,
really relaxed down there." I had the advantage of one prior experience 
with a big cock, which made me an expert.

"Let me do it." I got my hand on his cock while she positioned 
herself and I guided it at what I thought was the right angle.

I guess he hit paydirt because she went "Urf!". It went in a little 
bit, and then I let her have control of the cock and she crouched 
over it and started pulling it in. 

"Urf! Ow! Wow, omigod" Cindy muttered as she strained to get that big
thing up inside. Brad and I watched, fascinated. She sounded like she
was having a difficult bowel movement, and in truth, the feeling, if
you're not used to it, is kind of the same. It's just a different set
of sphincter muscles being stretched.

"Take your time," Brad said. "It's easier if you go slow." 

Brad lay flat on his back, lying on the blanket, and Cindy squatted 
over him with her bent knees spread wide and her long straight hair
covering her face and one slim feminine arm reaching down to position 
his cock while she balanced with the other. 

I didn't see any motion, but "It's in," she reported. She sounded 
relieved. 

She started slowly bouncing up and down on the end of his dick,
trying to slide it in farther. She only had the head in. 

"God, Bradley, it feels like you're splitting me in two."

"Yeah, I know," he answered; somewhat smugly, I thought. 

She slid down a little farther on his pole. It was too dark and
there was too much hair in her face for me to see her expression, 
but she let out a little "oof!" 

"Bradley, thrust a little, she needs help," I said. He put his big
meaty hands on her hips and pulled her down while he thrust up.

Cindy bent over and clutched his shoulders and whimpered. "Omigod,
omigod, oh...my...god!"

She was suffering. I recognized the feeling -- it was the way I felt 
when I lost my virginity. She wanted to get it in, but it hurt.

"Cindy, maybe you should let Brad get on top."

"Yeah, okay."

They rolled over and swapped positions, without Brad's dick ever 
leaving her pussy. 

Now Cindy was lying on her back, her hair splayed all around her 
head in a fan, with her legs spread wide and a really massive male 
between them. I looked at Brad's wide back, his big shoulder muscles, 
and his hard, round, sculpted buttocks. He was huge and powerful.

"Take a deep breath and hold it," he instructed her. "Now let it out,
slowly. Again."

He started moving his strong sexy buttocks, slowly, only going in and 
out about an inch. He pulled her legs up to open her a little wider.

"Now I want you to close your eyes, and think of a place you'd like
to be. A place where you feel safe and warm...." He led her through 
some sort of relaxation exercise, which I guess he must have learned 
through being a jock and having seen physical therapists for sprained 
muscles.

She obediently went through the exercise, and it must have worked, 
because after a couple of minutes I saw Brad's ass just sort of slide 
slowly deeper between her legs, like a hot knife into butter.

He actually kissed her. I was jealous. From the way her legs rose
up and wrapped around him I knew she was digging it. Damn it, he
was supposed to be for me. I was standing there naked holding myself
and I started surreptitiously fingering myself to keep my pussy warm.

I felt irrational jealousy. I had never watched another girl get 
fucked before, let alone by a guy I was planning to fuck myself.

Brad was pumping now, working his big strong butt in and out, and
he was getting in deeper. It was starting to happen. Cindy was 
getting her first fuck with a big dick. She started to whimper and 
moan with each thrust. 

"Ow!" She cried. Brad had hit paydirt and slammed into her cervix.

"I can't put it in any farther," he said apologetically.

"No, you can't. It hurts." She put her hand down and felt the base 
of his cock. 

"Is that as far as it goes in? You've still got a couple of inches left,"
she said.

"That's as far as I can get it in," he said. "I'm hitting up against 
your womb, I think."

"You sure are. God, you're big." 

And you're so tiny, I thought. I knew I could take Brad's whole length
and looked forward to proving it. I had taken all of Bruce's long
inches. As long as we stayed out of the deep penetration position
Bruce didn't hit my cervix, so I knew I could handle Brad.

Hurry up and finish, I thought. I want my turn.

Brad went back to fucking her, a little more gently and using only 
the first six inches or so of his dick. I imagine that must be 
frustrating to a man. 

I was going to let him fuck me as hard as he wanted. I wanted him
to slam me hard with that big strong body. God, he looked like six
foot two of solid hard-on.

"There now, like that. That's good," she said, wrapping her legs
around him again and kissing him.

Brad started going faster, and Cindy went "Ow!" as his cockhead 
punched into her cervix again, and he backed off a couple of inches 
and kept fucking faster until with a little masculine grunt he came. 

I could tell Cindy had suffered more than she enjoyed it and she 
hadn't come. She told me later that she had a few pre-orgasmic 
thrills but hadn't even been close.

Brad lay on top of her for a while and then pulled out. He pulled 
his gleaming wet condom off, tied it up and tossed it in the 
general direction of the lake, for some fisherman to find later. 

My turn.

Brad went to the car and came back with a pouch of rolling tobacco 
and rolled a cigarette, which we passed around. It was stronger 
than what I was used to (Kool menthols swiped from Cindy's mom) but 
flavorful and relaxing. We all lay back, and Cindy and I cuddled Brad 
with him lying between us. There was almost enough of him for two women.

Cindy said something about how tight she had been and Brad asked her
if she had been a virgin, and she told him that she had been screwing
for over a year but wouldn't tell him who. Then Cindy asked him how 
he lost his virginity, and when he first found out he had a big cock.

"Huh, lemme think. There was this school nurse when I was 13, she was
holding my balls and checking me for something, and she wrapped her
hand around my dick and said "You are very well developed for a boy
your age." I was gettin' hard in her hand and she said "It gets bigger, 
doesn't it." She was really impressed but she told me to go find a girl 
my own age.

"Then when I was 14 there was this Irish woman at church, with red hair 
and big tits. She was about 40, and divorced or something. She asked me 
to come over and help her with something, and she made me get up on a 
ladder and change light bulbs. I was wearing shorts after practice, and 
she put her hand on my thigh and started telling me how good looking I 
was and kind of stroking me a little. And then she put her other hand 
on my butt and squeezed it! I almost fell off the ladder. 

"She asked me if I had a girl, and if I had ever done anything with 
a girl, and if I thought she was pretty and if I would like to do 
anything with her. "You're a really good-lookin' boy, Bradley" she 
says and then she pulls down my shorts and puts her hand on my dick 
through my jock, and she's asking me, will I swear to god never to 
tell anyone. Then she pulled my jock down and said "Lord, it's even 
bigger than I thought," and put her mouth on it and blew me. And then 
we went in her bedroom and she showed me how to fuck. We went through 
a whole box of condoms.

"My big sister's friends figured out that I wasn't a virgin anymore
and started razzing me about it, and calling me "Brad the Stud" and 
"Studley", and one of them gave me a ride somewhere in her Camaro 
and we parked and she screwed me. She told me how big I was, compared 
with the other guys. A couple of days later one of her friends took 
me for a ride and told me she wanted to see it. I remembered what the 
nurse and that other woman had said and I started believing it. That's 
when I knew."

I was holding Brad's dick in my hand the whole time, and it started 
perking up and getting firmer while he was telling his story. Cindy
and I each told him how we lost our cherries, and by the time we 
were done he was rock hard in my hand.

"It feels like you're ready."

"Yeah." He started rolling on another condom. The large size condoms
barely fit him.

I rolled over on my back, and opened my thighs. He got on top of me,
supporting his weight (which would have crushed me) on his elbows.
He kissed me and fondled my breasts, and I held his dick against my 
slot and rubbed it back and forth across my clitoris. 

Cindy was lying there watching us but I was completely oblivious to
her presence.

Brad bent his head down and sucked my breasts some more and stroked
my cunt with one of his big hands. I checked and found that I was
wet, and told him I was ready. There was a strong hot musky smell 
coming from somebody's pussy. 

"I'm ready, Brad. You can fuck me now," I said. I wanted to ride that 
monster.

I held his dick against my hole and he started pushing. It went in 
easier this time than it had with Bruce. The head slipped into 
my hot little hole and he kept pushing and it went in further, and 
he started going in and out, with his fat cockhead slipping back and 
forth through the tight sphincter muscles at the mouth of my pussy. 

He was gentle and careful, taking his time getting it in.

It felt pretty good. I grabbed his ass with my hands and whispered
"Oh, god, it feels so good", in his ear for encouragement.

His dick felt nice and warm inside me, stretching me and slipping in 
deeper with each push. I was getting a head rush each time he thrust 
up me. That big fat dick of his was every inch the thick, hard pussy 
pleaser Bruce's had been.

Somewhere in the distance I heard Kiss playing on a tape player. 
"I wanna rock'n'roll all night, and party ever-ee day..." I guess 
someone was having a keg party on the opposite side of the lake. 

My plump schoolgirl thighs were spread wide and my big wet gaping 
hole had a pole of engorged flesh slightly smaller than a rolling pin
rammed down it, puckering my smooth white ass in the soft moonlight. 

Brad was rock hard, in spite of the fact that he had already come 
twice. He pushed into me with steady strokes and my pussy lubricated 
up a gusher to get him in as he thrust deeper into me. He muscled his 
big fuckbone all the way down to the bottom of my cunt, and I felt 
his pubic bone pound into mine, jazzing my clit. He was in up to the 
hilt and I had taken him in all the way. 

"Oh, Brad," I murmured. "You're so hard and thick. I feel so full!" 
I put my mouth on his and kissed him, long and passionately. I felt 
his dick throbbing inside me. Yum. To think that if I had followed 
my childhood ambition of becoming a nun this would never have happened 
to me.

"Oh, god, fuck me, you big-dicked stallion. I want you to fuck me with 
your great big horsecock. Bang me with it," I whispered in Brad's ear.

"Okay, baby," he growled.

And then it was all grunts and whimpers for a while as he banged me.
Hard and steady. I felt his big sweaty male muscles pressing into me 
all over my body. 

I was getting reamed. I smelled his heavy masculine smell and he 
smelled so good I had to bite one of his biceps just to see what 
he tasted like. 

"Ouch!" he complained. "Keep fucking," I answered. "Oh god, just 
keep fucking me, please. Don't stop. Fuck me hard." 

I didn't want him holding back because I was a tender 15 year old.
I wanted to feel his strong muscles pounding me. 

Brad slid his dick almost all the way out and lunged back in with 
a force that almost knocked the breath out of me. Then he did 
it again, and started fucking like a locomotive, hitting me with 
deep, powerful thrusts. I guess he must have had a lot more sexual 
experience than other high school boys I knew because he could 
really hammer a girl.

Neither Cindy nor I was going to be able to walk straight afterwards.
He fucked me harder than anyone ever had, such as the rather weak 
competition (except for Bruce) was.

"Oh oh oh oh oh," I panted, when I got my breath. "Oh god, yes, 
darling, fuck me like that. Yesyesyes. Just like that. Don't stop!"

"Go, Brad!"  Cindy encouraged him. "Ride 'em cowboy!"

Brad and I fucked and fucked. I humped back up at him urgently. My 
pussy was getting pre-orgasmic spasms every time he slid home and 
bumped my hard clit. My breasts were pressed against his chest with 
my hard nipples digging into him. 

Physically, I felt the same way I had felt with Bruce, but I certainly
wasn't tempted to whisper "I love you." I didn't even like Brad much. 
I just loved his body, and the strong, powerful way he was fucking me, 
and the way his big strong dick felt inside me.

The girls' locker room grapevine hadn't done him justice. He was 
the answer to a maiden's prayer. Better than my fingers, better than 
a vibrator, and he smelled good too. 

Brad only lasted for about 10 minutes of steady thrusting, not as 
long as Bruce, but long enough to do the job for me. I was humping 
back with my ass, rutting my hips up to meet his thrusts and 
writhing under him so that my breasts rolled across his chest.

"Bradley," I panted. "Oh god, Bradley, keep fucking, I think I'm 
going to come. Just like that, right there, yeah. Don't stop, please 
don't stop... oh god, oh god...OH! Oh my god, YES!"

It hit me like a flood. Orgasm all over my body. It started at my 
toes and my scalp and rolled through my body. It filled me to the 
brim and flowed over.

I clung to him like a monkey. While my pussy was spasming on his 
dick it swelled thicker and he thrust home deep and had his orgasm, 
coming inside me. I could feel his dick gush into the condom. I 
clutched his muscular butt and pulled him against me and moaned. He 
collapsed on my breast and panted into my shoulder, sweat pouring 
down from his forehead. I realized that he had been working at it
and waiting for me to come first.

"Oh god, Bradley, that was good," I said. He rolled over onto the
blanket, patted my ass and went to sleep.

                             ***

I came, I saw, but I didn't conquer. The next day Cindy got Brad to
drive her home and asked him to take her out again, her alone this
time. She told him that she hadn't come, and she wanted to come like
me, and she thought if she worked at it she could, and, you know,
basically the whole pre-orgasmic maiden in distress thing. Brad, 
being a big dumb lummox, ate it up, and before I knew it they were 
sort of going steady, although they didn't go public about it. He did 
not have any time for me because she didn't let him date other girls.

The rotten, selfish little bitch. She helped me find another guy 
like Bruce and then she stole him from me. Being objective about it, 
I didn't really like Brad that much. I just wanted to use him once 
a month or so when I got really horny. I was irritated that after we 
had had sex with him together, practically a menage a trois, she 
would not let me go out with him when I needed it. After all that I 
had to go out and find another male.

I got so desperate I really did, I blush to confess, peddle my bike 
down to the truck stop, looking for a "big rig". Ahem. I thought I 
would flirt with some of the burly older guys drinking coffee in the 
truck stop (since I wasn't old enough to go into a bar -- no fake ID 
yet), but the first time a man spoke to me I got so embarrassed I 
flushed scarlet, stammered "excuse me" and fled back home. They had 
hookers at places like that, I realized. It was no place for a 10th 
grade schoolgirl. My heart was hammering as I fled.

I got up my nerve to go back, a month later, and when I tried to order 
a cup of coffee the waitress, a matronly type with a chest like a 
pouter pigeon, said "Aren't you a little young to be hanging out in a 
place like this, dear?" in what I suppose was meant to be a kindly 
fashion, but made me feel like I had the Scarlet Letter on my breast. 
I made up some excuse, bolted my coffee and ran home again. I gave up 
on the truck stop after that, so "Jenny Wanshel's Truck Stop Adventure" 
will not be some future chapter in this memoir. 

Cindy and I stayed friends, somehow, in spite of it. I even went to 
most of Brad's hockey games with her and double dated with them. Then 
after they broke up he fucked me again, along with about a dozen other 
girls, and she didn't speak to me for months. Brad went off to college 
and we didn't see him again after that.


Jenny Wanshel
chilly2@biosys.net