While the negative aspects of egotism are all too apparent, it is also true that for a man or woman to function adequately and maturely in society it is necessary to have a certain amount of healthy self-confidence.
The successful businessman, the woman who rises in her chosen profession, the serenely happy and efficient housewife — all are imbued with tile self-confidence necessary for them to skillfully carry out their chosen tasks.
When a man or woman lacks self-confidence on a sexual level, it can be apparent in every aspect of their lives. It is often necessary to be sure of one’s identity as a man or woman in order to be successful.
Susan Williamson suffers from a lack of sexual maturity and self-confidence, sure that she is unattractive and afraid to start a physical relationship with a man. It is only when her bouncy, inhibitionless young niece, Pamela, comes to stay with her for the summer that Susan begins to change, brought out by a girl half her age and yet much older both in terms of sexual experience and understanding.
NAUGHTY AUNT SUSAN is the story of a woman who at last comes to terms with her own sexuality, breaking the bonds of her own inhibitions and fears to take her place as a fully functioning, independent and sensual female.
None of the whale fucking mess would have happened if we’d had a pool of our own. But Daddy used to say it was foolish to spend all that money for installation and upkeep when he was paying dues at the club. If I wanted to swim, I could just trot on down. So a lot of it was his fault, or so it seems to me.
Mama and Daddy had gone downtown for the day. They were leaving for a month in Europe at the end of the week, and Mama said there were just millions of things that had to be taken care of. I wasn’t going along. That was a disappointment, in its way, because I’d never been to Europe, but on the other hand, being on my own for a whole month had its attractions.
They left me off at the club for a day of swimming, and that was how it started.
The pool wasn’t too crowded — mostly idle wives come to enjoy themselves — and I was floating around on my back, enjoying the flow of water across my body, when I happened to look towards the diving board.
A boy stood bouncing there, tall, tanned, well-built. He had longish dark hair, broad shoulders, and a trim waist, and his tight trunks looked as if they were painted on his body. When I saw the big lump of his cock and balls vividly outlined by the cling of his swimsuit, I felt a matching lump well up somewhere in my throat.
He swanned into the air, graceful, lissome, and when he splashed down into the water, I was waiting. Our bodies collided and my legs brushed across his cock-bulge. We both went under, him startled, me conniving, and his arms encircled me, dragging me to the surface and to safety.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he bobbed in the clear water, our feet paddling to keep us afloat. “I didn’t see you.”
“Yeah,” I said, trying to seem flustered and shaken, “I guess so. It was my fault.” His arms held me close and I wondered if he was registering the insistent rub of my tits on his chest. For curiosity’s sake I skidded nearer and let my crotch bump his. His cock wasn’t hard, but it felt big and powerful where my body nudged it.
“Mmm,” I said, “I think I’d better get out of the water while I’m still kicking.” Besides which, my skin would be starting to wrinkle before long. “Would you help me to the edge of the pool? I think I’m still a little shaky.” And to prove it, I trembled weakly in his arms, my teensy shudders fluttering up and down his clutching frame.
In another couple of minutes we were both sitting at a poolside table, shaded by a tenting top, and a waitress had just brought us a pair of matching Margaritas.
“Is this the way you always pick up girls?” I asked, slyly letting him know that I considered myself picked up.
He just laughed. “My name’s Eric. Why don’t we go somewhere?”
“I’m Pamela Crosby,” I said, “and the first place we’ll have to go is home, so I can get dressed.” I sat back and let him have a fresh eyeful of my bikini stuffed with goodies. Mama and Daddy should be gone for a comfortably long spell, and home would probably be the only place Eric and I went.
He had to change first, out of his obscenely tight and gorgeously revealing trunks, and then we mounted his bike and scooted away. I’d warn a bikini and robe from home, because I hadn’t counted on meeting anyone like Eric today, so as we rode through the streets I sat on the robe and let the winds dry me off. My arms were around Eric’s waist, my head nabbing his shoulder, my tits pressing the back of his shirt. He was a nice armful and I squeezed closer. One of my hands slipped down and touched the front of his jeans. The promising cock-bulge I’d noticed at the pool was more concealed now, but it was still there, and as I touched it with gentle, probing finger strokes, his prick began to stir with interest.
“Hey, slow down!” he cautioned. “Remember, I’m driving!”
I kept on touching his cock, though, and it puffed and swelled. I began to massage his dick through his pants until, all too soon, we were pulled into our driveway and stopped before the garage door.
I dismounted. Eric was still sitting on his bike, his tight pants full of hard-on. “Aren’t you coming inside?” I wondered innocently.
“With this?” he asked. “I don’t think your folks would go for it.”
“I don’t think they’re at home,” I replied. “So the only person you might embarrass would be me.” And with that I did a flip-around and twitched towards the front door. He was behind me in a second, panting as I used my key in the lock.
As soon as I closed the door behind us, Eric was on me, lifting me by the cheeks of my ass. His hands were big and warm and deliciously strong and I lifted my face so he could kiss it. He was sloppy with his mouth, but his intentions were good. His fingers began to creep beneath the leg opening of my bikini bottom and I decided it was time to reassert my feminine dominance.
“Mmm,” I protested, smacking away from his kiss, fighting to get my feet upon the floor. “Now you’re going too fast! Why don’t you let me run upstairs and get some clothes on? I won’t be a minute.” His hands released me and I stood back, playing with my hair. “Oooh,” I went on, “my hair smells of chlorine! Maybe I’ll take a shower while I’m at it. You can wait that long, can’t you?” He nodded, a bit glumly, I thought, with that hard-on pointing out the front of his pants all big and ready. “Well, have a seat. Unless…” and my voice slowed to a crawly drawl “you’d like to take a bath, too? I’ll bet you don’t like chlorine any more than I do.”
He didn’t. And his hands were untying my bra on the way down the hall to the bathroom. While I leaned into the shower to turn on and adjust the spray, Eric was loosening the knots of my bottom and dragging it down. I sensed the momentary nakedness of my body, but it was only momentary. In just a sec Eric was covering me with his hands in all the places my bikini covered me, and he was doing it much more snugly and warmly. I hopped into the shower, my tits springing free of his clutching hands, and I turned to face him.
“You, too,” I said. “Get undressed if you want to take a bath with me.”
I stood facing him, giving Eric a full shot of what he could expect to receive if he wanted to play. He wasn’t getting short-changed, either. I’d like to be taller, but aside from that it’s all okay. Vitals — five-four, legs long in proportion so that I don’t look dumpy. Which is a problem with shorter girls who have full-sized tits. Mine are 34-C, with big brawn nipples that invite suckling. Hair is a rich coppery shade, and I wear it to my shoulder blades. Eyes are green, like a cat’s, and while we’re on feline subjects, the hair around my pussy is a shimmery shade of red, thick and silky. From the right angle, however, the pink of my gash is definite and inviting. The boys at school say I have legs all the way up to my ass, and a curvy little set of buns to top them! For a teenager it’s an out-of-sight combination, and everything works. Perfectly. I don’t get many complaints.
I didn’t think I’d have any, myself. The only thing I didn’t know about Eric already was the precise coloring of his cock, and it wasn’t long till I could see that. For the record it was quite reddish when fully erect, as it was right now, and the balls underneath were cuddled in a small, tight scrotum.
His face was red, too, with eagerness and excitement, and he joined me in the shower with grasping, ready hands. I didn’t see any percentage in playing games right now. Not when I felt that hot, hard rod bang my tummy. I just wrapped my arm around him and we oozed together.
While he kissed and felt me, I began to scrub his cock. My soapy hand slid up and down its steely length till Eric moaned and I let go fast, afraid I’d tantalized him beyond endurance.
He shuddered a moment, staring dawn at his prick, and then he smiled. His suds-covered rod still thrust out, hard and expectant, and when I saw that, I added my smile to his.
I dropped to my knees then, letting the shower spray me, and I gently, lovingly cleansed the suds from his dick and pubic curls. When he was thoroughly rinsed, I closed my eyes, opened my mouth, and sucked his cock in.
Eric lunged up, standing on his toes for a moment, supporting himself with hands on my head, and I thought he was about to strangle me with his prick. It rammed deeply, insistently into my mouth, hitting my gag reflex, and I gulped loud. The passing excitement subsided and he eased onto the soles of his feet, and his prick slid into a better position. I cupped his nuts in one small wet hand, fondling them as I began to suck the upper half of his thrusting peter.
It had a fresh, clean taste, with a slight residue of soap flavor still clinging to its warm hardness. I sucked his rod playfully, not wishing to make this the whole focus of our lovemaking, but I sucked forcefully enough to let him know that he’d picked up on a break in a million.
He appreciated it. I could tell from the contented groans he made from the way his fingers curled and twined in my hair. From the way he balled himself up into my mouth every few strokes, as if the pressure of my suckling had suddenly become too much for his young manhood to bear.
I sucked his prick as long as I could, but the water was pouring and I had to keep from swallowing the shower spray, and I suppose it was like giving head underwater. After a certain length of time, drowning seems like a viable alternative. I let go of Eric’s pole and rose to my full height, facing him. He put his hands on my tits immediately and leaned against me, letting my stomach feel what my mouth had just been gobbling. Our mouths came together and my tongue stabbed inside his. He stiffened for a moment, but when he felt the playful wandering, he grew easy. His hands left my tits and moved around me, once more taking hold of my ass.
I was slippery with soap and water, and so was he. We wiggled and squiggled, providing one another with delightfully uncertain handholds, and then Eric was lifting me again, his fingertips at the same time assaulting the lips of my cunt. I’d been so busy seducing him I hadn’t had time to notice how sexed-up I was myself. Not until his finger slid into my hole and began to worm around.
It was like receiving a mild shock. I squealed “OOOH!” and tried to wrap myself around him where we stood, almost knocking the poor boy flat. He held on for dear life as I climbed him like a tree, and he pushed me towards the far wall so that his wiry young body wasn’t the only thing supporting my 104 pounds. I had my legs wrapped round his waist and my tummy rubbed his, the big hard spear of his cock bouncing on my bottom as we rocked and staggered together. His hands were firmly gripping my ass, and that finger continued its exploration of my pussy while I tried my Goddamnedest to suck his tongue out of his mouth by the roots.
There was a rushing in my ears that was only partially caused by the flowing water. Everything was happening at a breakneck pace and I wanted to fuck. Right now! I pulled my lips from his and told him so.
He looked happy and he steadied me while I climbed down from my stork perch on his body. We turned off the water and dried ourselves perfunctorily, and then it was a race to my bedroom. I won, because he didn’t know his way in the house. Yet. He’d have no trouble next time, I was sure.
Still half-wet from the shower, I flung myself onto the bed and rolled to meet his plunge after me. We came together like crawling snakes, and his tongue was a crawling snake, too, crawling across my face and neck and tits as he fingered my cunt some more. I put my hand over his, urging it to investigate a little more thoroughly, and I kept bumping his cock with my knee to make sure it stayed big and hard long enough to do its manly duty by me.
“You’re a wild chick,” he said, between nibbles at my tits, the tips of my nipples were erected a full inch, an inch of hot, wet, rubbery flesh that ached whenever his teeth rolled upon it. I reached for his prick and found it ready.
Opening my legs, I beckoned him with my pink gash. “Show you how wild,” I promised in that husky, Lauren Bacall type voice I save for beddy-bye.
He didn’t have to be asked twice. He was on me like a satyr, plying my thighs with his own, letting me aim the point of his fucker straight towards my fuckee. The flesh of him touched the flesh of me, rubbing, tickling, and my cunt throbbed inside me. For the sweetest second imaginable, and then I stuffed his cock in and up and our bodies came together with a musical thumping sound that was nearly but not quite drowned by a soft groan from him and an acceptant moaning noise from my own lips.
How big was Eric’s cock? I don’t know. I don’t carry a tape measure in my snatch. A cock is big enough when it’s big enough, and his was big enough to fill me deliciously. There was no pain, nor was there a trace of void. We were like a hand and a glove. My cunt might have been created to be a home for his pocket [missing text].
I took it fully to the hilt on that first long thrust, and I felt every inch of his prick going in my cunt. My eyes opened wider, just as my hole was opening wider, and I started to giggle and chatter at him, but he was concentrating so hard on his fucking that he didn’t hear me. At least he didn’t reply. He just kept ramming against me, even though his cock was already fully inserted, and the protracted shudders of his meat inside my pussy were what it was all about.
My knees lifted and my heels locked around his back as he lay between my legs. My ass was off the bed, fully splayed for his greater ease and mine, and I moved against him a time by way of encouragement. He was a bright boy and got the message. His belly pulled away from mine, uncunting most of his peter, and then he gave it to me again with a driving thrust that left his balls swinging in the crack of my ass, tickling the moist cleft and making me throb responsively from asshole to brainpan. “Just like that,” I panted, and he gave it to me again.
Just like that. No variation, no frills. It was a straight, hard fuck. Don’t get me wrong. I like a straight, hard fuck, and I have ever since I was a young teenager and found out what my pussy was for. But imagination and variation are essentials, too, and Eric didn’t seem to show much talent in those departments. Well, so what? He was my age, so he’d told me on the ride home, and I rather suspected that I had balled a lot more guys than he had girls.
But he had a good cock and he could shove it up my cunt so hard and deep and fast it made my teeth chatter, and, as for the rest, he could learn it soon enough. During the next month, while Mama and Daddy were making the Grand Tour, I was pretty certain that our boy Eric would be getting a Grand Tour of his own. And guess who he’d have for tour guide?
I wiggled my butt as he speared in and out, arid the alternate this-way and that-way pressures and pulls on his cock made him mutter aloud in surprise. Clearly this was a new experience for him. He began to experiment with new approaches to meet and counterpoint my own wrigglings, and the result was out of sight. For both of us.
I twitched to the left and he fucked to the right. I sidled to the right and he gave me a left-aiming prong that sent his pecker skyrocketing up my gash sensuously. “By Jove, I think you’ve got it,” I quipped in a breathless voice.
It felt so good now, so much better even than before, and I romped with him like a whore on her day off. As he kept pronging me deep and hard — but with those essential variations. I cupped and squeezed my titties excitedly, finger strumming the nipples till they ached and throbbed.
Both of us were wet again, this time from sex-sweat, as damp as if we’d come dripping from the shower to the bedroom. My armpits squished when I worked my hands, and my hand slid on his body when I tried to touch it. Eric’s face was ecstatic as he ravaged me, and I suppose mine must have had that same silly fucking grin set firmly in place. He reached out with one hand and grabbed my right tit, pawing it viciously but lovingly, too, and I covered his hand with mine to keep it there.
Normally I require some effort. You can’t just shove the meat to me and expect fireworks. But this was the first time I’d ever brought a boy home with me in the middle of the day, especially after such a blatant pickup as I’d pulled on Eric, and it was such a novelty to be balled in my own little bed, rather than in a car or the woods or on the tiles beside someone’s swimming pool or wherever I didn’t even realize till a day or two later that Eric hadn’t used his mouth on my cunt at all. Oh, sure, I’d sucked on his dick, and sucked it well, but he hadn’t reciprocated. And nine times out of ten that’s a prerequisite for the guys I screw around with. Well, this was number ten, I suppose.
My period was due any day now, and I always get hotter and sluttier then, too. Probably that’s why I’d decided so quickly to come on to him at the club. And what of it? He wasn’t complaining and neither was I.
That cock of his just kept sucking in and out. And I do mean slick! My cunt was as greasy as if he’d oiled me with Vaseline and his rod slid through my hot, wet drippings as it plunged again and again to the center of my very being. I could feel a dull thud every time he plunged home, a thud that meant he was very nearly banging his knob on the mouth of my womb. Some girls like that a hell of a lot. I do, if it’s done right, but too many guys feel they have to drill you like a machinist. Those big peckers just slid in and out, and each time they go in, all the way in, it hurts and aches, but at the same time it feels so good you don’t really want to ask them to take it easier.
And later your cunt aches as if it’s just been flogged with a cat-o-nine-tails and you swear to yourself, “Next time I’m going to put my foot down,” and you never do it, because the next time it’s that same mixed feeling of good and bad. Who said it was easy being a girl? And what girl would have it any other way?
“Get ready…” his voice was tight and tense… “I’m gonna come…” And before he’d finished speaking, I felt the lunging jabs as his cock rammed up my cunt and began to spit out its load of jizz.
My pussy jerked as his cock shuddered inside me, and I thought nice, sexy thoughts and wiggled myself so that my clitty got its full share of attention from his gyrating prick, and a sweet, shivery little cream hit me, too.
It was nothing compared to his. Eric was a groaning corner. His face twisted up and he grunted and moaned and his fingers seemed to be gouging the flesh of the titty he held, and I saw muscles knotting up in his neck and arms. And all the while he kept on plugging me with his rod, shaking it as he dumped his fuck-juice in my cunt. I suppose single, teenaged girls fucked before the Pill came along, but I wonder how much they enjoyed it.
I didn’t have that problem. My cunt was as sterile as a hospital ward, and it sucked up his jizz as fast as he could squirt it out. The ripples of pleasure that coursed through me were small and short-lived, but they were nice enough while they lasted, and the flutter of my pussy tickled a few extra drops of cock-milk from Eric’s rapidly sinking hard-on. It was wilting almost before he could get it out of me, and as he pulled free, a last, watery glob of jism formed in the shrinking knob of his pole and spilled onto my red beaver.
My legs unclasped and he sank back with a groaning sigh of satisfaction. I brought my ass onto the bed and lay smiling up at him. It wasn’t the best lay I’d ever had, but it was okay, and he was a nice, considerate partner, and the two of us might have some fun in the four weeks to come.
“I have a confession,” I said finally, reaching to touch his moist cheek. “When we collided in the pool. I did it on purpose. I wanted to meet you.”
“Who picked who up, then?” he laughed.
I shrugged, wiping away a seeping gob of cock-cream from my snatch-lips. The touch was soft, but the lips were tender enough to remind me that there could be more, so much more. I reached down to cuddle his pecker, hoping it make it stiff again, but he seemed dubious.
“I don’t think I can make it right now,” he admitted.
“Where there’s a will,” I quoted, and I started to suck on him. His cock was small now, and wet with the creamy jism he’d poured into me, and the taste was fragrantly aromatic. I sucked and I sucked and I sucked, I kissed and licked, I gnashed my teeth on the shriveled stalk of his cock, and I even rolled his nuts in my mouth, but none of it worked.
Eric wasn’t idle. He had one hand on my tits, fondling them in alternation while his other hand traced up and down my spinal column from nape to buns, and he was clearly interested, but it seemed that he just couldn’t respond. Well, he’d dumped a BIG load inside me. It was still dripping from my snatch in pearly bubbles, and I felt all hot and wet and itchy up my hale, so maybe he was just too fucked out to try anything now. Regretfully I let his prick slither from my mouth and we sat up sadly.
“Might as well get dressed,” I sighed, and I hopped from the bed to do just that. Rummaging through my drawers, I found a T-shirt and a pair of cutoffs that left the lower half of my ass bare even when I had them on. Eric went into the bathroom and picked up his own clothes, coming back in fully dressed just as I turned from admiring myself in the mirror. He looked me up and down.
“How old are you?” he wondered, a little late for that kind of wondering.
“I told you already,” I replied, fixing my face. “I’ll be a senior this fall.”
“You don’t look it,” he said.
I shrugged. That was the real cross I had to bear. Made up and dolled up, I can pass for almost any age I want. On the other hand, in kid-stuff duds like a T-shirt and tattered shorts, no make-up, hair uncombed, I look like a slightly well-built twelve or thirteen. So I have to be careful or guys tend to get the impression I’m jail-bait.
I turned to him, with my makeup on and my hair fluffed as much as its wetness would allow. “Better?” I asked. “I’ll show you my birth certificate if you’re still nervous. Hey, I was just thinking — are you doing anything for the next month or so? Mother and Daddy are gonna be out of the country and I thought I might have a party or two while they’re gone, you know, to stave off loneliness? My friend Lilly is going to stay here with me, so if you have a friend.”
“Just one or two parties?” he wondered.
“Sure,” I giggled. “The first one begins Monday and ends two weeks later. The second one begins the Tuesday after that and lasts till whenever.”
And I squiggled against him, wrapping my bare legs around his, making my tits jiggle beneath the tight T-shirt so that the nipples stuck out and poked him through the cloth, and I bit him at the base of his neck, a quick, darting bite that made him yip. He wasn’t prepared for the bite, and he grabbed at me with punishment in mind, but I was too fast. I ran out the door and down the hallway, into the living room, with Eric on my heels.
“You’re a bitch, Pam!” he hollered, and I threw myself over the back of the couch. He hopped after me, and when we slid together on the cushions, I could feel that my neck bite had accomplished what all that sucking and kissing on the bed hadn’t. Eric’s dick was hard inside his jeans, hard and strong and thick.
I unzipped him eagerly, dragging his cock past the teeth of his fly with careful fingers, throwing caution to the winds when I had his cock flesh bind.
His tool was that lovely bright color again, and the knob of his prong was swollen purple with blood. I wanted to put his cock in my mouth and suck it till he squirted cum where my tonsils used to be, but he had ideas of his own.
Eric pushed me back, rolled up my T-shirt, and got his bands and mouth to working on my tits. He sucked me, he chewed me, he licked me, he kissed me. It was all nice and I cuddled him to my breast as he nursed on my boobs.
He was trying to get his hands inside my tight cutoffs, and I wanted to help him. But the way we were lying it was difficult for me to lend any assistance. So I did the next best thing. I got a fistful of his cock and squeezed it tenderly, beginning to shuck it up and down with my hand. It was a toss-up whether his cock or my palm was the hotter then, but we did share the heat back and forth.
“Shit up,” I commanded, and he did, kneeling beside me with his rod sticking out. I didn’t know whether to let go of his cock and use both hands on my zipper or keep my grip and fumble left-handed at the fastenings of my shorts. I was still deciding when I heard the front door open. Naturally, I looked up.
Mom and Daddy were in the doorway, and their eyes seemed to lock right into mine as Eric and I sat there. I wanted to look away but I couldn’t summon the nerve to do it. Eric heard the noise, too, and he looked around, going all red when he saw them. His cock wilted in my hand and he tried to get my fist loose so he could stuff it back in his pants and get out, but I seemed unwilling or unable to let go. I don’t know which. All my muscles had frozen in place and I was like a statue.
Daddy came pouncing into the living room, Mom close behind, her hands clutching at his flying arms. He was mad, he was hollering, and I think he was promising to do some nasty things to Eric if he could just get his hands on that long-haired son of a bitch. Well, I thought. Somebody’s going to catch hell now, it seems.
Eric was slated to catch his share of that hell, but he jumped off the couch, trying to get his cock inside his pants, and the lucky boy managed to sidle past Mama and Daddy and out the door. Daddy lunged after him but missed, and then he and my mother were both in the living room with me, their eyes burning with anger.
It took me a moment to realize that my tee-shirt was still pulled up, leaving my tits free and naked to their inspection. I tugged it down quickly. Daddy began to holler and Mama started to cry, both at the same time. I didn’t know which of them I should listen to.
“We’ve given you everything!” Mama wailed between sobs, as if that was a logical argument.
“Who was that boy?” Daddy thundered impressively. He’s a big, well-turned man — I could go for him, if he wasn’t my daddy and if I had a thing for older men, which I really don’t and his flats knotted as he waited for my answer.
“His name’s Harry,” I lied, finding something that sounded close. “I met him at the club, and he brought me home. Oh, Daddy, we weren’t doing anything, really!”
“Not doing anything?” Mama sniffed.
“Not doing anything?” Daddy echoed. “We come home and find the two of you half-naked on the couch, your hands on his.”
“We were only petting,” I protested. “All the kids do it.” Petting was their generation’s word; I figured they’d understand it. To me it was just foreplay.
“And what if we’d come in a few minutes later?” he yelled. “What would we have found then? Pamela, I want to know right now — have you done this sort of thing before? Who with? Have you — have you ever done…”
Mama’s eyes got really big and she looked as if she were going to have a nervous breakdown on the spot. She’s a small lady, dainty and delicate, pretty, and she looks so helpless when she’s in distress.
From the mood they were in, I didn’t think my parents were ready to hear an uncensored account of just what sort of things I’d done before and would do in the future at every opportunity. I lied. “I know what you mean, Daddy,” I said, blushing by will alone. “And what kind of a girl do you think your daughter is? Do you think I’m some kind of sleep-around tramp? I’m a good girl.” That was true. The consensus among my better friends was that I was pretty good. “But, when you’re sitting and talking with a boy, and you maybe kiss him a time or two because he wants to do it, and then he touches you, and — well, he gets excited, you know? And…”
Daddy helped Mama sit down and he flopped into a chair himself. “So,” he cut in, “you masturbate him? Do you do that with all the boys you date? My God, I’ll kill every one of them!”
I’d talk myself into a corner in spite of everything. “No, no, no!” I squealed. “It’s not that way at all!” but it was too late. Mama had regained some of her control and she began to talk.
“We can’t go away now, George,” she told Daddy. “I couldn’t sleep if I thought about Pamela here alone, what she might be getting herself into…”
Oh, shit! I had really blown it now! And all because I wanted to go swimming. See what I mean? If we’d had a pool of our own, none of it would ever have happened.
Daddy shook his head. “I don’t think we can cancel out now,” he mused. “But we can’t leave her here by herself either. Maybe your parents would like to have her as a guest while we’re away. They hardly ever get to see her.”
Anything but that! Grandpa and Grandma lived in a retirement village in Florida and they read Bible verses every night for a couple of hours before going to bed. Jesus, I’d die there!
“It’s so far,” Mama said, and I tried not to nod in agreement. She thought a moment and her face brightened. “What about Susan? She’d be a wonderful influence an Pam, wouldn’t she?”
Aunt Susan? God almighty! That was nearly as bad as Gran and Gramp! Aunt Susan is Mama’s youngest sister. She’s a writer and lives in a farmhouse somewhere in Ohio, of all grungy places, and she looks like a dishrag. A nunnery would be livelier than her place for a month. I felt sick.
“Yes,” Daddy agreed. “Susan would be perfect. Do you think she’d mind?” Mama shook her head, and it seemed that they had the matter decided between them. Well! There went all my plans for a month of partying and frolicking.
“Don’t you trust me?” I whined, and the stern looks an their faces was answer without words. I winced and got up.
“Where are you going now?” Daddy blasted.
“To Lilly’s,” I replied in a hurt voice. “I should let her know that she won’t be able to come stay with me, since I won’t be staying myself.”
They grumbled, but they finally let me go, though Daddy checked the mileage on the car before I left and warned me that any suspicious extra distance when I got back would be taken out of my hide.
Lilly would be pissed, I thought, but not half as pissed as I was. We’d been making big plans. But it was most definitely off for now, and it was all my fault.
Lilly’s mom was on her way out, and she told me to go on in, that Lilly was in the bathroom, where else? I heard the water running in the room down the hall as I flopped down on Lilly’s bed, curling my legs in the air.
In a moment or two she entered the room, wearing a towel and a headful of wet hair. “Oh, hi,” she said, sarcastic as shit. “Jesus, Pam, what’s wrong with you? You look like a girl who just found out the rabbit died.”
“Worse,” I said, and I told her the whole story as she stood beside me. Her face clouded.
“Oh, crud! When you fuck, you fuck, don’t you? Couldn’t you have gone out and parked somewhere like any normal girl? Why did you have to bring him home and screw him in the parlor?”
“Yeah,” I pouted, twisting my fingers in the tail of my shirt. “Sometimes I think you’re right about this women’s lib stuff, Lil. If I’d been a boy and they’d walked in on that scene, Daddy would have been smirking up a storm. He’d have slapped my back and offered me some of his private stock of rubbers and told me a couple of dirty jokes. But girls are different. Daddy wants to kill, and all Mama does is cry. I should have given them something to cry about. A full confession.”
Lilly shrieked in laughter. “You’d have given them coronaries! Would you have told them about me, too?”
“Bet your buns,” I said. She grinned, did a quick hoochie-koochie that made her towel glide to the floor, and then she covered me with her sinuous body.
Lilly was the first lover I ever had. We’ve been friends since fifth grade, when her family moved here, and we’ve shared everything. My body started growing before hers did and I used to flaunt it at her, twitching my butt and pulling my sweaters tightly over the pair of delicate cupcakes I had then, and it really pissed her off. We’d fight and call each other dirty bastards, and then we’d make up with little kisses and pets of endearment.
Well, one day, when we were friends again, she lured me into her garage and pulled up her dress. She dropped her panties and showed me, with a bold sneer of superiority, the little downy hairs that were sprouting around her pussy. She even invited me to touch them.
I suppose we were eleven then, just finishing up sixth grade. I was already wearing a training bra, but Lilly’s tits were mostly big smears of pink nipple. But she had cunt hair, and I didn’t. That hackled me, and when I touched her, I was kinda rough. I slid my fingers along the tight line of her slit till she started breathing hard and heavy, and then I pushed inside it, poking around to see just what was there.
Lilly gave a holler and she closed her legs on me. My hand was trapped in her crotch and she rocked back and forth, huffing and panting. Her hair swayed from side to side and she closed her eyes, while little warbling noises oozed from her lips. Something else was oozing, down where my hand was. It was wet and warm, seeping out of her pussy, dampening my fingers, and I didn’t know enough to realize that she was having a hell of an orgasm.
It excited me. I used my hand more forcefully, making her cry out again, making her shudder from head to toes, and I put my other hand on her chest, massaging the growing nipples through her dress and undershirt. She went all white in the face and she moaned and my own head got giddy and light, till I thought I was going to pass out on the spot from wondrous excitement. There was a warmth between my own legs, and I squeezed that warm tingle with my thighs.
When Lilly let me go, her face was flushed and moist. And nothing would do her but she must have a look at my pussy and see if she could do the same thing to me with her hands that I’d done to her.
We were sitting on a pile of soft carpet remnants, and they tickled my bare ass when Lilly pulled down my drawers. But they didn’t tickle half so much as the fluttering pressures of her delicate fingertips across my half-formed cunt. One stroke and I was wet, two strokes and my little pussy-lips were swollen like a battered nose. We giggled nervously, and then she inserted a fingertip.
The parting my cuntal flanges was so overwhelming and so intense in its back and forth pull on my clitty that I creamed on the spot, and her fingers were aromatic and spicy with my juices.
That was in 1970, and thank God, word was getting around that masturbation wasn’t harmful to growing girls. Lilly and I found that out, after we’d been doing it to one another for a couple of months, and from then on we didn’t feel quite so guilty. By the time school started again in the fall and we entered the seventh grade hand in hand, we’d progressed to a little cautious mouth-to-snatch play.
In junior high we discovered boys, and we started feeling guilty again. For the next year or two we kept on fooling around, but now we had a justification. If we spent hours kissing and necking, touching and sucking titties, fingering or eating pussies, it was all okay — we were just practicing up for the days when we’d be going out with boys. Sometimes Lilly took the male role and sometimes I did. We’d go through little playlets of seduction. She’d be the dreamy date, picking me up at my house, taking me out, and slowly, by sensuous erotic degrees, she’d warm me up with kissing and petting till my body itched to be stripped bare.
And of course she’d oblige me. I was wearing something bigger than a training bra now, and her fingers burned as they touched its well-filled cups. She’d tease me then, stroking, fondling, cupping, till my nipples scorched the nylon and thrust out imploringly, and then I’d beg her to take off my bra and suck away the aching hunger in me.
Lilly would do just that, but only when I was so hot I couldn’t stand to live inside my burning body and had peeled the bra from my tits by myself. Suck me, bite me, dribble me with spit and then lick it into my flesh — Lilly knew more ways of making love to a pair of titties than anyone I’ve ever known!
I grooved on what she did to me, but most of all I liked it when she’d lie upon me and grind her pussy against mine till both our cunts throbbed in unison and we gasped and moaned our come delight into one another’s mouths. And when the shivering of our bodies subsided enough, we’d switch roles. This time I’d be the boy, and I’d give her hell.
We weren’t lesbians, of course. Just healthily bisexual. Bi has become really in the last few years, but we’ve always known there was nothing wrong with it.
We lost our cherries the same night. When we started our sophomore year, the school held a mixer-dance, and Lilly and I shook hands and put on our cuntiest dresses — no undies to interfere with bobbling titties or wiggly butts — and we went with blood in our eyes. We ended up with blood in our crotches and joy in our hearts. I found a farm boy from out in the county, big and blond, and I lured him outside. When he got me into the bushes, he became a raging animal, and before I knew it I was on my back, my skirt up to my waist, and his cock jiggling where my cherry used to be. It hurt, but only a little. Lilly had to use a bit more persuasion, but she finally managed to get done in before the night was out. We had a good cry together afterwards and entered life as women.
Anyway, Lilly and I are best friends, you know, so I can say truthfully that she’s not the most gorgeous girl in the world. She’s a few pounds underweight, and her boobs never really grew. Her face is cute, in a squirrelly way, and she has pretty hair. Too much, though. She’s been on a women’s lib kick for months, and she’s refused to shave here legs or her underarms, and I heard one guy tell another one that screwing her was like screwing a monkey. “But a freaked-out monkey,” he added quickly, and I knew what he meant.
Ever since she’d started reading about women’s rights, she’d gotten more aggressively lesbian. She still fucked guys, sure, but only if she really felt like it. But get the two of us alone in a room and those hot hands were all over me, feeling and investigating and scratching anyplace I might itch. Sometimes I dug it, sometimes I didn’t. Right now, I dug it, in a big way.
She pounced on me and laid me back on the bed, curling her legs around me tightly. Her hands yanked at the tail of my shirt and pulled it up so that my nipples were exposed for some patented Lilly-style sucking. I felt the tips erecting into her hungry mouth and I fondled her head while she nursed me, my bare thighs lifting so that it rubbed her super-hairy crotch. She used to trim her beaver, the way I do, but not lately. The hair was thick and long and it tickled me as much, I’m sure, as the rubbing of my thigh tickled her in reply. I started to giggle.
She looked up then. “What’s so funny?” she wandered.
“You are, monkey,” I snickered in reply. It was our private joke. Lilly sat up quickly, scooting forward so that her thick bush bumped me in the face.
“How funny is this?” she asked, nudging me with it.
“Mmmfff-mmmffffff!” I muttered back as my tongue began to delve among her hairs, seeking the gate that lurked inside her jungle. My hands clutched the lean cheeks of her ass, digging into the flesh, and I started to tickle her asshole while I licked pussy.
Lilly liked that. She always did. She began to rock and bounce on my face, puffing and humming, so I began to work the tip of my middle finger on her asshole.
She was still damp from her bath, and her skin was soft and yielding. My finger poked and prodded, and she was working with me, and with a cry of triumph she accepted the sudden thrust of my digit up her ass. She squirmed to take it, giving me an even hairier mouthful of her snatch, and my tongue found the puffy gate of her slice. I knocked with one-two-three quick tippy-taps and she opened to receive me.
As I licked and tongued her cunt, I kept working that middle finger in her shitter. She lurched and jerked each time I pushed it deep, and that just brought her cunt more firmly to rest on my sucking mouth, and both of us enjoyed that.
“Mmmm, love ya!” Lilly chanted as I ate her out, and she jerked with increasing passion each time my tongue ferreted through her moist cunny-lips and anointed the bud of her cunt. She bounced on my face, nearly strangling me with her clean-smelling but ghastly-thick pussy fur, and then she was lifting herself bodily, dragging her snatch beyond my reach. My hand was still caressing and finger-fucking her asshole, and that arm lifted with her till I had no choice but to let the cork pop.
Lilly shrieked when my finger slid out, and she stood above me for a second, her cunny region twitching. I reached up for a friendly goose of her butt and she squealed again. She whirled round and plopped down upon me once more, this time in reversed position, and as I began to lick her gash from back to front, Lilly undid my cutoffs and tugged them down far enough to lay me bare.
She didn’t waste a moment. The first thing she did was to nuzzle my pubes with her squirrelly face, biting the little pink flanges that protrude ever so slightly from my cunt. I squirmed to feel her teeth on my twat — she was a bit rougher than usual, but I didn’t really mind — and then she had her fingers in my gash, digging and spreading. My butt moved upward to meet her, and her tongue tiptoed across my cunt-mound with dabbing steps.
I pulled the cheeks of her ass to their widest and rammed her asshole with the tip of my nose. She giggled into my pussy and I replaced my nose with a finger. Her bung sucked it up eagerly and I could feel her sphincter muscles clasping and unclasping. It was an interesting effect, and I twisted my finger inside her, letting the knuckle gouge this way and that. There were tiny droplets of moisture gleaming on the hair ends round her gash, too. Some of it was Lilly’s juice and a lot of it was my drool. I covered her box with my mouth and sucked at her plump thrusting cunt-mound, grinding my teeth gently on the fleshy swell.
And she gave me in return. She spread my cunt-lips with ten slim fingertips whose nails she kept trimmed from consideration. Her hands tugged at my pussy, making it yawn before her eyes, and I writhed with the delicious torment of it. I stretch, sure, but she seemed determined to test my elasticity all the way, and I didn’t think I could take much more spreading. Lilly solved that problem. As soon as I was fully displayed for her, she brought her face down and tried to fuck me with it. I felt her nose and her mouth and her chin’s point alternately grubbing in my furrow, and I wished I could open wide enough to take her whole Goddamned head into me. I’d suffocate her with my snatch, drown her in a flood of cream and love!
I lifted my own head and bored into her juicy slit with a zestful fervor that soon had her twat slick and sloppy. My tongue punctured the cave of her sex and wiggled round like a snake. My finger slid all the way up her ass, there to jiggle in frustration, but a jiggle that made Lilly’s butt sway excitedly.
Lilly and I had been tight for so long we didn’t need instructions on how to satisfy the other. When I took her twitching cunt between my lips and pulled insistently, she did the same to me and I drenched her mouth with my sudden flow. She drank it greedily and flogged my snatch with her tongue, forcing me to pour out even more girl-jism, and at the same time she ground her cunt upon me so that I could give her the same treatment.
I did, and gladly. I had one hand engaged in fondling and diddling her ass; the other hand came up to join my mouth and I stuffed three fingers, all of them straight and rigid, into her gash while I sucked hell out of her nubbin. She fought the urge to come — I suppose she wanted to make it last forever — but she couldn’t hold herself that long. In another minute she was jelly on my face, her hair soaked with her cunt-cream, that tangy mat of pussy fur blinding me, choking me. It was only a quickie, but Lilly and I were both sex-tipsy when it was over, and we lay on the bed hugging and kissing, her hands busy on my tits. I touched her smaller boobs in reply. They were warm and damp and I could feel her heartbeat scampering behind the left one as I pressed it.
“You know,” Lilly murmured, “what I really hate is that we won’t be staying together while your folks are away. I’d been counting on that.”
“So had I! I was really in the mood to party.”
She kissed me lingeringly. “I’d been thinking about something else, hon. Just the idea of living with you makes me itch between my legs. Feel,” and she guided my hand to her twat. I couldn’t tell if it was itching, really, but I scratched her box playfully all the same and she oozed against me.
“I’ve decided, I think,” Lilly went on. “I’m going to go lesbian fulltime. You know, Jill Johnston says that all women are really lesbians at heart, that they only screw guys because of social pressures. I think she’s right. I just don’t enjoy fucking boys any more.”
Lilly shook her head, and her face was serous. “It’s your fault, you know. You seduced me when we were just kids. Remember the games we used to play? First date, and first petting, and first eating-out, and all the rest? Pain, it’s never been as good for me since. Except when I’m with you. I think I love you. Don’t laugh! I mean it!” I wasn’t about to laugh. The look on my face was shock. Lilly was getting into this pretty deeply, and it scared me.
And I didn’t remember seducing her. Maybe she’d been a proto-dyke at eleven. As I recalled it, she had been the one who took the initiative, persuading me to touch her, to finger her off. Not that I didn’t enjoy it. Sex with Lilly was something I looked forward to. It was a change. But she was getting freaky lately, and I almost expected her now to offer me an engagement ring.
“The trouble with you, Lilly,” I said, “is that you read too much women’s lib stuff. You really believe that we don’t need men at all. You’re cutting off half the people in the world.”
“I don’t want half the people in the world, Pamela Crosby. I just want you. All the time.”
“If I could fit you into my schedule…” I still hoped I could bring her down with some wisecracks.
“Your schedule. I love you, but you’re so promiscuous! Do you really enjoy balling almost any guy who asks you, just because he’s a guy and has a cock? That’s what you do, Pam, and you know it as well as I do: I mean, nobody’s a virgin any more, but you carry it to extremes. And are you really that turned on by getting fucked, or are you trying to find something that none of those guys know how to give you? Isn’t that why you let them all bang your box?”
Promiscuous? I didn’t think of myself that way. It was an uncomfortable moment. Lilly had never talked to me this way before, and I knew now that she was a hundred per cent serious. She wanted me to make some kind of lesbian pact with her and renounce men for life.
I tried to think about Eric, about how nice it had been fucking with him this afternoon, how neat it had been to pick him up and seduce him, but I couldn’t remember what he looked like. And who was the last guy I’d fucked? It was just last week, Tuesday or Wednesday, but who was it? Bob? No, he was the week before last. Oh, it was Karen Whittaker’s cousin from out of town. Wasn’t it? I couldn’t remember what he looked like either.
But I could remember Lilly, remember each and every time she’d ever touched me.
I turned to Lilly, my hand sliding from side to side on her small boobs. They were very pretty, I reminded myself, even though they’d never grown much. The nipples were still as big, as pink, as sensitive, as they’d been that first time I ever saw or touched them. My fingers moved again, into the puff of hair at her armpit, and she smiled. One of her legs slid across me, and the soft little hairs she refused to shave away were ticklish on my skin.
“I don’t know,” I said finally. “I’ll have to think about it. An awful lot. I don’t know if I’m ready to do something like that, and I wonder if you are.”
She smiled smugly. Outside, the front door slammed and we heard the patter of little feet. Her kid brothers. “Better get decent,” Lilly said softly. “It wouldn’t do to have you caught messing around twice the same day.”
She grabbed her towel and rewrapped it on her body while I pulled up my pants and pulled down my shift. Before I left, she handed me a book entitled Sappho Was a Right-On Woman by a pair of lesbian ladies, and insisted that I read it while I was with Aunt Susan. “And when you come home,” she added, “I’ll be waiting. Right here. With a horn on for you.” We kissed and said good-bye and I had to go. This was some day, all right!
And to make matters worse, that night, when I crawled into bed, I had a visitor. It was Mom, come to have a mother-daughter talk. I recognized it as soon as she started. It was the same one she’d given me when I had my first date, back in seventh grade. All about being very careful, protecting my reputation, not cheapening myself just because some ill-bred boy made demands on me.
I was careful enough. I took my Pill first thing every morning. She didn’t know that, and I didn’t tell her. But what about the rest? Was I cheapening myself? And what the hell kind of a reputation did I have? Boys were nice enough when they were with me, especially when they knew a little piece was in the offing, but what did they say when I wasn’t around?
I’d never given it any thought till that little chat with Lilly, and now, with Mom trying to patch up this afternoon’s bad scene, I couldn’t think about anything else. Maybe getting caught wasn’t so bad after all. Mom had called Aunt Susan and my little vacation was definitely on, so I should be spending the next month in a quiet, sexless environment. I’d have time to think. Maybe I’d cut down on my catting when I got home again. Guys expecting an easy score on me might be in for a big surprise.
And who knew? Maybe I’d read Lilly’s book, too. Maybe — just maybe — by the time I got home I, too, would be as confirmed a lesbian as she seemed to be. I thought about that after Mom kissed me good night, and there was a warm moist feeling in the pit of my cunt. Was my body telling me something?
I reached to stroke that moistness, to kindle the sensation creeping upon me, but when I took my fingers away, I just groaned in an undertone. It wasn’t lust. The curse had arrived for its monthly visit.
I was still woozy from the feel of solid ground beneath my feet when I heard someone call my name.
“Pam?!” came the voice again, and when I looked in its direction, Aunt Susan was coming towards me. I hadn’t seen her in a year or two; but there was no mistaking her.
They sell her books on almost every newsstand in the country, paperback Gothic and romance novels. She writes under her real name, Susan Williamson, plus two or three pen-names. Mama has a lot of her books, but not nearly all.
She’s Mama’s baby sister, in her early thirties now, but she has a frowzy, ageless look to her that makes me think of an old-maid schoolteacher on a particularly bad day. Her mousy brown hair was pulled back into a tight, dangling ponytail, her face was nude of makeup, and she was wearing a really ghastly combo — loose, oversized sweatshirt and a pair of baggy jeans that fit her like a big tent. She’d never been fat, and I wondered if she just bought her clothes an guesswork frown bargain bins at Goodwill Stores.
“Hi, Aunt Sue,” I said, lifting my face so she could kiss me hello. Her breath was antiseptic, and there was but the slightest glimmer of life in the near-green eyes behind the big round lenses of her glasses. Those eyes could have been pretty, I thought, if the rest of her wasn’t so blah!
“You’re growing up so fast,” she told me, but Aunt Susan had a few inches on me in height. “I was so happy when Barbara called. I’m afraid I’m becoming a hermit. Seems I never see any of you any more. Here, let’s get your things into the car. Lee!”
From out of nowhere a guy had appeared on the scene. He was about her age, I guessed, and he was okay. Tall, not too hefty but not skinny either, his hair dark and shaggy, he had a strong, handsome ugly face. Aunt Susan saw me eyeing him and she caught my hand.
“Pam, this is Lee Kinloch. He’s an instructor at the university, and a good friend besides. Lee, this is my niece Pamela. Isn’t she lovely? Well! We’d better get her things into the car.”
Hmmm, I thought, shaking his hand, where did the old girl find him? And how in the world does she hang onto him?
His car was close by — Aunt Sue’s auto was a little two-seater, again quite at odds with her dowdy exterior, too small to hold my baggage — so we loaded up and went motoring away. Aunt Susan lives ten or fifteen miles outside Athens, in the country, and she talked most of the way. Most of her conversation revolved around how nice it was to see me, and how pretty I’d become, and didn’t Lee think so, too. He did, and. I was delighted. He had a nice voice and a nice smile and a nice manner, and he didn’t treat me like a child, the way so many adults do with girls my age. I could have gone for him, but if he dug on Aunt Sue’s type, I didn’t stand the chance of a snowball in hell. And besides, if he was her personal stuff, it wouldn’t be right to play for him anyway. That’s only moral.
Aunt Sue’s been in and around Athens for ten or twelve years. She got her B.A. and M.A. at the university, began writing (and selling) as an undergraduate, and she’s never left. With the profits from her first ten or twelve books, she bought a farmhouse in the country, fixed it up, and settled down. I suppose she enjoyed being a hermit, but the only thing southeastern Ohio reminds me of is hillbilly heaven. To each her own.
Her house is big and quaint, and I wandered round it looking at the antique and period furniture while we were supposed to he carrying my luggage in. The old parlor was fixed up as a study, with shelf after shelf of books, a table dominated by a big, new IBM electric, and filing cabinets where she kept carbons and correspondence and research notes. She was halfway through a new Gothic right now, and Lee and I both sensed that she’d really like to be working. So he drank a quick cup of tea and made his excuses. I waved good-bye and hoped I might see him again. If he was Aunt Susan’s regular, I supposed I would.
She fixed sandwiches but I didn’t feel like eating. My tummy was still upset, and my lunch consisted of a couple more Midols while we sat talking on the shady front porch.
“You’ve grown up while I wasn’t looking,” Aunt Sue complained gently. She sat lazily on the swing and I could almost see the curve of her left tit where her baggy shirt threatened momentarily to cling to her body. It was the first time I’d even guessed she had a figure.
Aunt Susan talked exuberantly and fluidly, like someone making up for lost time. I asked her about Lee; she seemed to enjoy speaking on that subject, and I gave her her head.
They’d met at the university library, while she was researching a historical. One of her characters was Robert Burns, a specialty of Lee’s. He guided her to some useful books and references, and they’d been friends ever since. Very good friends, if the sparkle in her eyes when she mentioned his name had any significance.
“That’s great, Aunt Sue,” I congratulated, “but I want to tell you now — if having me around is cramping your style any — I mean, I’m a big girl I know the score. So [missing text].”
She didn’t understand. I could see it as soon as I started to talk. “You and Lee,” I went on. “If he’s been living with you, you don’t have to move him out on my account. It’s cool with me.”
“Living with me?” Aunt Susan said in a very strained voice. She was red as a lobster.
“You and he are lovers, aren’t you?” I asked, venturing all.
“Lovers?” She was absolutely aghast. She stood up and began to pace the porch. I felt about two feet tall and I didn’t like the taste of my foot, stuck in my mouth.
She turned suddenly. “What makes you think that Lee and I — we’re just friends. I enjoy talking to him, I think he enjoys talking to me — that’s all, Pam, that’s all!”
How could I have made such a boo-boo? How could I have remotely considered the idea that Aunt Sue and Lee Kinloch were shacking up? They were friendly, sure, and if I’d been in her shoes, I’d have damn well been shacking with him. But Aunt Sue was somebody else, not me. She was a dowdy, frowsy woman a breath and a half away from being an old maid. Unattractive, to say the least. Why would a right-on guy like Lee even want to ball it up with her? He probably got off socializing with her as a breather between bed-wrestling with frisky young coeds at the university.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Sue,” I tried to apologize, but the words seemed so inadequate. “I’d better go up and unpack,” I said, making for the door. “Guess you have to get back to the typewriter, and I’ve kept you long enough.”
When I came down from my room, after putting all my clothes away, her study door was closed and I could hear the machine gun rattle of her a typewriter. I thought about popping in, but decided against it. She was entitled to some peace from me. So I went outside to walk around the property.
I left the house far behind and stood atop the ridge, straining my eyes to see anything. There wasn’t anything to see, except for the trees and the fields stretching away in the distance. It was quiet and lonely up here, and the summer sun bathed the ridgecrest in warm, glimmering rays. I soaked it up with my body, turning this way and that to rinse myself on both sides, and then I smoothed a place in the high grass so I could stretch out.
Such a nice day, too warm and sunny for clothes. I sat up and removed my blouse and bra, smiling as my bared nipples sprang up immediately, and then I lay down once more. I closed my eyes against the sun’s rays and lay in the fragrant grass, shifting my shoulders to let that good warm feeling touch me everywhere from head to waist. My hips moved, too, and the menstrual cramps that had been bothering me most of the day didn’t seem so bad any more. The sunshine was direct and soothing, and I could hear crickets chirping in the field and birds singing off in the distance.
Being on the rag isn’t my favorite time of the month. I feel bloated and run-down, and mostly I feel like shit. Sometimes I get so horny I want to jump out of my skin — the urges become intense and my skin crawls with lust. But masturbating is so messy, and guys don’t want to get involved with you when you’re dripping a little, and as the sun bathed me, I felt an ache in my bones. There was a horny coming on.
My legs were pressed tight and they worked a gentle squeezing pressure on my cunt that made the tampon inside me feel like a poky little cock. I lifted my knees, bringing the heels back nearly to the cheeks of my ass, and I humped upward against that juicy feeling.
During menstruation my cunt feels almost raw, and of course it’s always wet inside. The slightest increase of pressure or stimulation makes me pant and hardens my nipples, and right now I could feel my teats growing stiffer than the sun and a gentle breeze had already gotten them.
I could have gotten off easily, by rubbing my hands over the crotch of my jeans, but it seemed too easy. One good stroke and I’d have burst into flames. Just one. On the other hand, I could make it last longer by keeping on the way I was going.
I gritted my teeth and made my thighs rub together with more vigor, frictioning them the way a Boy Scout fucks around with his twigs in the big forest. The smooth columns of flesh, each encased in a sleeve of denim, came together, scraping, rustling, and I felt myself growing ever warmer. I ground my butt into the grass as I heaved in a restrained bout of self-seduction.
Oh, why did it have to be self-seduction? Why couldn’t I have someone like Lilly here with me, using her naughty hands and mouth on every part of my body while I did the same to her? Or, even better, what about Lee Kinloch? He was a great-looking guy, best I’d seen since leaving home this morning, and he dripped with sexy charm, not at all matching my image of a stuffy college professor. And if Aunt Susan was only using him as a conversational partner, maybe I could snag him for discussions of more basic subjects. He’d be my first older man, really, barring a few seniors I’d fucked when I was in tenth grade, and they didn’t count.
Hey, Pam! Whispered my brain. Remember — this was supposed to be a vacation. You were going to make important decisions about your life. Take it easy, decide whether you were or weren’t just wasting your time screwing around with guys.
But — this might be the best way to find out. I mean, if I got it on with Lee Kinloch, and it turned out to be just another screw, then I could really be more certain that Lilly was right about me and her. That made sense.
I began to open and close my legs, bringing them together with a soft thud that vibrated thrillingly upon my pussy, where it nestled inside the tight crotch of my pants. I was wearing panties, of course, thick cotton ones that I could throw away if I leaked, and they were big and bulky inside my snug-fitting jeans. As I got hotter, my cunt seemed to swell up magnificently, threatening to split all my seams, and that little menstrual device didn’t seem little at all now. My pussy-lips were molded round its intruding bulk, massaging it, stroking it with soft, fluttering ripples, and it felt like a cock that had been put in me soft and was hardening with each second of additional penetration. That was nice.
I pulled my knees up and made them rub on my bare tits, while one arm locked behind them, keeping them up and in place. With the stiff, extended fingers of my other hand I began to make little footstep-like patters across my butt, just a tippy-tip-tip touching action that was only meant to amuse me.
It must have gotten out of hand, to coin a phrase.
I was thinking about Lee Kinloch and the prospects of getting him into my pants when a warm, throbbing burst of sensation fluttered in my pussy and I felt sunny and bright inside. My legs twitched where I held them up, and then they sagged, and I lay stretching on the grass once more, letting the sun warm my bare tits while I purred in a kind of contentment. It wasn’t the best, but it would do for now. I’d taken the edge off my horniness.
Aunt Susan was on a good writing streak, it seemed, because she was still barricaded in her office at eight o’clock that evening. I fried up a couple of cheeseburgers, mixed a salad, and carried supper into the study. She looked up with a startled smile and stopped work long enough to polish off a snacky meal. We talked in circles the while, me afraid to say much lest it blow her cool again. Aunt Susan was just as old-maidish as she looked. How could I ever have thought she knew the score?
“Could I borrow a couple of your books to read while I’m here?” I asked, hoping that would put me into her better graces. “Mama has a lot of them, but not nearly so many as this.” She smiled and said it would be just fine, and I could tell she was anxious to be at work again, so I cleaned up the supper things and cleared out. The typewriter was humming and pecking before I’d gotten the door quite closed behind me.
I watched television for a while, but the programming wasn’t too hot. The local stations were pretty amateurishly run. Finally I shut off the set and went up to my room, ready for beddy.
The walk up the steps seemed to put a little fresh vigor into me, though, and by the time I’d taken off my shirt and jeans I didn’t feel like going to sleep just yet. I had my radio along, so I turned it on and looked round the dial for some good music. At first all I could find were hillbilly broadcasts and late-night preachers, but finally I picked up the signal of a southern station that believed in the boogie.
I sat on the edge of the bed in my undies, jiggling my feet in time with the music. It was an infectious beat, and I found my fingers snapping, too. In a moment I was on my feet, stepping out and back as I caught the musical pattern and put my body into key with it. I like to dance. It makes me feel good and sexy all over, to throw myself into the rip of a song, to let it control the way I move, to surrender my conscious will and let the drive of the rhythm carry me along. I don’t even need a partner when the music is right.
And the music was right. That Tennessee DJ was picking some really obnoxious records this evening, one after another.
I moved, making up my own steps as I followed the beats of the songs. My hips swayed, my legs kicked, I swooped low and stood tiptoe high, turning round and round on my toes like a disco ballerina. The music seemed to throb and reverberate in the marrow of my bones, and I danced as if I were on display in a window, rather than in the privacy of my room. It was good and I was good. I felt sexy and beautiful and graceful as a young deer.
One song blended into another and still I danced. The commercials and patter between tunes passed me by unnoticed. I must have danced even while the DJ talked. After a while I didn’t even need the music he played. I was humming and clicking my fingers and patting my thighs and hips, and making my own songs and my own accompaniment.
Warmth began to fill me from top to bottom. I felt at peace, in love and harmony with everybody and everything. It was the way I always felt on a dance floor, and guys who led me from a disco to the bushes never had any reason to complain afterwards.
The shifting of my hips, the kicking of my legs — sure, they were having an effect on my cunt. I could feel myself getting damper there, not only from my menses, but from a burgeoning stimulation that was sharp and to the point. Dancing, even dancing solo in a narrow space, was making me horny, and a menstrual horny was the most insatiable kind there was.
Before I knew it I was standing in one place, doing deep knee bends just like in gym class. I broke them up with quarter and half turns, and I cupped my tits through the thin yellow nylon of the bra cups. The nipples were hard and hot inside stiff as pebbles, and I rolled my fingers on the points they poked into the fabric of the brassiere. I pinched them till tears came into my eyes and I sighed in hot little bubbles of breath. My hair was all disordered, some of it dangling in moist strands across my face, and I combed it back with one hand, at the same time touching the little droplets of sweat on my cheeks and temples.
My neck was damp, too, all around the base, and my sweating palms were making the bra cups wet as well. Especially round my nipples, where the dampness was allowing my brown areolas to show through the nylon. Still dancing in my chosen place, I unhooked the bra clasps and wiggled out of it. My tits shook beautifully, zestfully, and I made them jump and bounce in delight.
I put a hand on the crotchstrip of my panties. A tingly shudder spread through me, vibrating at the base of my front teeth. Inside my cunt was that tampon, just like a tiny finger inserted for permanent stimulation, and I squeezed my thighs together that I might feel it even more vividly.
“Mmmmm!” I warbled triumphantly, my voice husky and feline. I backed towards the bed. My legs touched it, and I just let myself fall, flopping onto the soft mattress. It was a country bed, soft and cushiony as a cloud, and I felt as if I were sinking endlessly into its comforting surface.
I slid farther back, lying full-length on the bed. I split my legs their widest, making an indescribably delicious pain-pleasure radiate from the slice of my cunt, and I held my legs apart till I couldn’t stand it. I closed them then, massaging with my thighs, raising one above the other, squirming like someone trying to keep from pissing. My panties were stuck to the wetness of my gash and when I touched them, stroking the slitted opening through the nylon, the moisture seemed to increase. I could almost hear a squish as I fondled my swampy cunt.
I rolled over, onto my tummy, and I shoved my twat against the mattress, grinding with my hips as though I rode atop the fattest, thickest, longest, hardest cock in all the world. Reaching behind me I cupped the cheeks of my ass and twisted them forcefully, till fresh tears budded in the corners of my eyes and I whimpered in little cries of exquisite pain.
Fingers slid into the crack of my butt and stroked my flesh through the sopping cotton. My knees shook, my toes quivered. With one finger I poked at my asshole, shoving as if I meant to insert the finger and the intervening panty layer, too. It wasn’t a serous attempt to finger-fuck my ass — I only wanted the lovely darting feel of it, the knowledge that I could do it if I wanted to.
My tits were hard lumps of flesh now, capped by fiery pointing nipples, and I raised my hands so I could manipulate them. I sighed, very loud, it seemed to me and my roaring ears, and I squeezed all the harder, till it felt as if my tits were about to burst like abused balloons. But I wasn’t abusing my brown-nippled balloons. Not at all. I was loving the hell out of them, and it was certainly no abuse.
I humped against the mattress for what seemed an eternity while the seeds of a dynamite come were planted in me. I wasn’t ready for these seeds to flower and blossom yet. Not just yet. I rolled over again, lying on my back once more, and I abandoned my tits long enough to wiggle my butt free of the white panties which encased my yearning crotch.
I twirled them in the air on the toes of my left foot, then gave a kicking toss that sent them flying across the room. The exercise made my snatch feel hotter and juicier, and I wondered if I could bring myself off, all the way off, without leaving a hideous mess on Aunt Susan’s spare bed.
Oh, fuck Aunt Susan and her spare bed! If it stains the sheets, then it stains the mother-fucking sheets!
I grabbed a big handful of my coppery, glistening beaver, and I squeezed it firmly. Spurts of heated excitement shot through me irresistibly, and I opened my mouth in a thrilled cry that was about a quarter-tone sharper than the falsetto wail of the black shouter on my radio at the moment. Sing your heart out, baby, I told him silently. If you were here right now, I’d squeeze your nuts just this way, and I’d give your big black prick a twist that’d put you into my fucking key!
I sampled the music with one ear, trying to summon a mental image of the singer. His voice was rich and black, oozing with hot sex, and I could almost feel his ebony body on my creamy frame, his long dark cock wriggling in my pink slit as he fought to give me a dose of his seed. We’d move in time with his music, the two of us, fucking to a syncopated, elusive rhythm that came right out of the hot southern earth and the stinking city ghettoes on a trail that had begun in the steamy jungles, where life was life and fucking was out of sight. Where cocks rammed cunts in time with the throb of the messenger drums, and witch doctors chanted evil spells while the lions and tigers roared through the night. My hips jerked and wiggled in an approximation of that jungle boogie, and I tried to embrace my imaginary black lover.
The fantasy faded in and out. I’d never fucked a black guy — I don’t really like black guys, not on a one-to-one basis.
I covered my snatch with my hand again, the grip even more powerful, the ball of my finger joints pressed down hard upon the slitted opening. I felt the string of my tampon catch between my fingers, and I nearly jerked it right out of my streaming hole.
My fingertips strummed the furry curve of my pubes, making the clitty inside dance and jiggle in happiness. The radio was playing still another song by now, one with a slow, offbeat rhythm, and I tried to match the drum strokes pat for pat.
My toes wiggled with the music and I went pit-a-pat-pit-pat on the hillock of my cunt. The hair forest was damp and so was I, everywhere, and I found myself making little chattering sounds as my fever built and peaked.
Lee Kinloch, I thought again, recalling Aunt Susan’s platonic friend. How would he be in the sack? Honestly? Guys my age, the only kind of guys I’d fucked around with so far, were interesting, and they did fun things to me and with me, but there was a distressing sameness about it. That had been bothering me ever since my little visit with Lilly the other night.
Guys would eat my pussy, they’d suck my tits, they’d feel me from head to toe and rub their naked bodies against mine, but their main interest was in getting a herd cock shoved as far up my cunt as it would go, then humping up and down, in and out, back and forth, till their nuts let go and they dumped a gallon of jism in my snatch. And that was okay. I’d enjoyed fucking ever since the very first time, else I’d not have kept on doing it. But I had a feeling it might be possible to find something more than those basic acts and reactions in sex.
With a more mature man, perhaps. Someone like Lee. He might be a real tiger between the sheets. Why not? He was a man, not a boy proving himself on a girl’s body. A man to make me feel like a woman instead of a girl who knew the score. A real, fully grown woman.
The image titillated me, Lee Kinloch between my legs. His shaggy head bobbed in my mind’s eye as he drank at my seething twat, and I could almost feel his tongue on my puffy gash, with long, slow, careful swipes that turned me on and sent me screaming into the clouds before he’d really begun to do me.
With him sex could be an adventure, a challenge, not just a contest to see if I could enjoy a nice come before my partner lost control and shot his load inside me. Oh, Lee, I thought, you have to be a dynamite lover! Appearances couldn’t be that deceiving. And if he was only half as good as I knew he must be, he’d be out-fucking-rageous! And if Aunt Susan wanted nothing more than his mind, Goddamned if I’d let the most interesting part of him go to waste.
I strummed harder, playing my cunt like a ukulele. The song on the radio had changed its beat, doubling up on the rhythm, and the musicians were all cooking. I had to work furiously to keep up, and I couldn’t, but by then I was involved in musical improvisations of my own, and my tits heaved with the big gasping sighs that rolled from my lips.
“Is something wrong, Pam?” a voice wondered. A female voice. Who else’s? There were only the two of us in the Goddamned house. Oh, shit, I thought, not even bothering to let go of my cunt. Not again.
Aunt Susan rattled my doorknob. “Are you all right, dear?” she wanted to know. The handle turned. Was she going to come in on me?
I struggled to catch my breath. “I’m okay,” I said.
Aunt Susan pushed the door open a hair aria looked around it. What must she think of me now? I was lying naked, clutching my pussy with one hot little hand, and my nipples were sticking out a mile. Or could she see anything? She wasn’t wearing her glasses. In fact, she appeared to be dressed for bed, and her mousy hair was down, hanging on her shoulders. If she hadn’t been so painfully plain, she might have been almost appealing with her hair untied.
“Are you sure?” She seemed uncertain. “I heard you calling out.”
“It’s my period,” I said, “and I’m just having a little trouble with it. Nothing to worry about. Honest.”
“Do you always go to bed naked?” She’d finally noticed.
“Uh-huh,” I said absently.
“Well,” she said, “if I can be of any help…”
She could only be of help right now if she called her good-looking friend and told him to get his ass out to the old farmhouse for a little screwing. “‘S okay,” I panted, feeling dangerously warm as my hand lay relaxed on my cunny.
“Well, good night, then,” Aunt Sue said, “and if you do need some help or company or anything, holler.” She closed the door and I heard her slippers patting on the floor.
As soon as she was gone, I tightened the clasp of my fist and I humped my cunt upward into that clutching grip. Keep it low, I warned myself. Don’t yelp so loud or she’ll be back. And if Aunt Susan got flustered when asked if she was living with a guy, what would she do seeing ire breaking in my visitor’s bed?
I squeezed and fondled, not caring how loud the radio was or what was playing. My hand twisted and jerked on the hairy thrust of my cunt-mound and I rolled on the bed, letting my body move as it wished. One of my fingers lay right along the crease of my slit, pushing at the gashed fish, thumping on the end of my inserted tampon, and I shook in abandon, knowing that the time was nearly here.
My come hit me splendidly, knocking me first in the gut and then spreading through my body like a fire out of control. I moaned and sighed with the joy of it, turning my head to let the big soft pillow muffle my cries of release, and I clutched my gash as it dripped a thin, hot mixture of cream and blood. I could smell it, the heady, cunty aroma of a menstrual come, and I wished I could smear my fucking face in it, that I could be the slut I felt in my delight.
The fever began to pass, slowly but not slowly enough, and I purred in dismay to feel myself coming to earth once more. Well, my raw cunt was certainly not ready for more of the same, and I had a growing sense of weariness in the marrow of my bones. Maybe I’d close my eyes for a few moments, then snap to and diddle some more. Wouldn’t that be nifty? Just for a few minutes. Not to sleep, not to dream — just a bit of time-out. Just a bit…
When I opened my eyes again, the room was bright with sunlight and my radio hummed static. I stretched and yawned, still naked, still atop my sheets. I’d slept the whole night. What time was it, anyway? I hopped out of bed, grabbed up my clothes, and went into the bathroom.
The clock in the living room was chiming eleven o’clock, and I’d slept half a Sunday morning. Aunt Sue was in the kitchen, and though she’d long since eaten her breakfast, she ordered me to sit down while she fixed mine.
I don’t eat much just out of bed — coffee, toast and jelly — and Aunt Sue drank a cup with me while I dawdled. She wanted to know if I was feeling better this morning, so I made up some shitty excuse about menstrual cramps and she swallowed it hook, line and sinker. No sense upsetting her so early in the day.
“Well,” she said with a smile, “how’d you like to come into Athens with me? I always do my grocery shopping on Sundays — the stores aren’t so crowded.” I didn’t think I wanted to be seen with her in public, not even on a Sunday. Aunt Susan had to be at her worst right now. She didn’t look well-dressed or presentable enough to plow corn.
“I don’t think so,” I replied, touching my tummy where it shone bare and golden between the bottom of, my tied-up shirt and the low-slung waistband of my jeans.
“Well,” and she looked a bit downcast, “I shouldn’t be gone too long. No more than a hour or two. Oh, I might stop by the library, too. I need to check the street layout of Copenhagen for a chapter coming up. But I won’t be too late.”
I watched her go, driving that little red MG. God only knows why she’d bought something like that. It fit her image about as appropriately as a see-through blouse. But it was her money.
I went into her study, intending to pick up a few of her books for spare-time reading. Maybe I’d go up in the hills for some more tanning this afternoon, and I could look at the book while I bronzed. Jesus, there were so many, and I hadn’t read more than a couple, even if she was my aunt.
That one looked interesting, the one in the corner, half-hidden behind the filing cabinet. I reached for it, dropped it, and swore vividly. The fucking book had fallen in between the shelves and the cabinet and it was gonna be a tight squeeze to get it out. I dropped to my knees and reached in to retrieve it.
In the process I touched some heavy-duty manila envelopes lying on the very bottom shelf, back out of sight. They seemed to contain books, and I pulled one out.
It was starting to discolor — no wonder! The postmark on it was 1970. San Francisco, I noted, and the return address was BEDTIME BOOKS. Bedtime Books? Why should they be sending Aunt Sue anything? Sounded like a porno firm to me. Maybe she needed some research material so she could give one of her prim, beautiful heroines a bit of sex drive. Giggle, giggle.
I was leaning to put the, envelope back where I’d gotten it, but one end was unfastened and books spilled onto the floor. I swore again, more vividly this time, and picked up the books to stuff them back inside.
O BEASTLY LUST! read the title line. By Sandra Warfield. The cover featured a painting of a half-naked girl being menaced by three brutal looking men, one of them holding a whip in his hand. What was Aunt Susan doing with this? Well, it was her business. I was putting the spilled books back into the envelope when I saw a folded letter inside. Curiosity got the best of me. I took it out, unfolded it, and began to read:
Here are the comps of O BEASTLY. Very hot, very good. We couldn’t have printed this a year or two ago, but thank God times are changing! Have you finished SLUT FOR ALL SEASONS yet? Am anxious to see it.
Karen Butcher, Editor.
Aunt Sue had written this book? I couldn’t believe it! I studied the cover again, the girl all but naked, the men feverish with lust. I read the blurb on the back cover: HER HOT BODY DROVE MEN WILD BUT HER COLD HEART TURNED THEM OFF. UNTIL LYDIA FOUND SHAME, DEGRADATION, AND BEASTLY, BEASTLY LUST!
Well! I opened the book at random, not quite halfway through, and began to read. I finished one chapter, then put the book down in a state of shock. My eyes were big as saucers.
I had just read twenty pages of the most graphic sex imaginable. Not only had the heroine Lydia gotten fucked in the asshole by her abductors, but then she had been forced into a cage with a hairy ape, which wrestled her to the floor and fucked her with his gigantic cock. Lydia ended up loving it, and when the chapter finished, she was coming with shrieks of undiluted ecstasy while the ape shot her cunt full of his jizz.
My Aunt Susan wrote that? I couldn’t believe it! Again I stared at the letter. Her name and address were at the top, it began “Dear Susan,” and the book mentioned in the letter, the book she was cheered for, was the very book I held in my hand. Any court in this lovely land would convict her on that much evidence. Could a niece be blamed for assuming?
But Aunt Sue? This was a pornographic novel, if I’d ever seen one. A lady getting fucked by a gorilla and learning to love it? X-rated, baby, X-rated!
I looked into the book once more. A few chapters further on, [missing text]. Now Lydia was strapped down on a tabletop. Vibrating dildoes were inserted in her ass and cunt — apparently the gorilla hadn’t mined her snatch after all — and a huge, gross, [missing text]. The lady was squatting atop Lydia’s face. Jello-quivery thighs, a cunt hairy, almost hidden in the folds of fat, its slice smelling of piss — and Lydia was slurping away while James, Ron, and Ted stood on the sidelines watching and enjoying.
I wondered how it all turned out, but much more important in my mind was the question, how in the name of slit did Aunt Sue come to write this book? She got embarrassed when I asked her if she was living with a guy. She seemed a bit upset to find that I’d quit wearing pajamas to bed. If I’d ever seen a prude, a prim, proper prude, she was IT. My hands were trembling as I stuffed the books and the letter back into the envelope. No fucking wonder she didn’t have this little treasure up on the shelf with her Gothics and nurse stories. If any of this stuff seeped into her haunted castle and love in the hospital corridor books…
Then were more envelopes down there, at least a dozen. All the ones I could get to were return-addressed Bedtime Books, and all of them seemed to contain several paperbacks. The postmarks were 1970 and 1971, which must have been her sex phase. I didn’t have to look inside the envelopes. I knew what I’d find, and the prospect scared me nearly as much as the first sight of that horny ape scared Lydia.
What was the score with my auntie? How many more secrets, did she have stashed away? I felt as if I’d been spying on her. It was none of my business. If she’d wanted any of us to know about those books, she’d have put them right up there on the shelf with the others. So why was I snooping around and digging them out?
I heard her horn tooting outside. She was back from town with the groceries. I grabbed a couple of mysterious castle books from a shelf and went out to meet her. Aunt Sue came up from the car with her arms full of grocery sacks and I hurried to help like a good little niece, but as I followed her up the steps to the front porch, I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of a woman she really was.
On the one hand she seemed outraged when I brought up a subject that touched even lightly on sex, and she seemed honestly outraged. But on the other hand she was capable of writing O BEASTLY LUST. Not to mention SLUT FOR ALL SEASONS and who knew what else? Were there two Susans? Did she have a secret life that she didn’t wish to share with outsiders? It was none of my business, speaking morally, but I’ve never been much on morals. I go where my instincts lead me, and my instincts were screaming FIND OUT WHAT MAKES HER TICK!
The rest of Sunday passed placidly. Aunt Sue wanted to touch up the chapter she’d worked on yesterday, and I went into the backyard for a little sunning — this time with my bikini on, since her office window faced the spot where I was lying. Later we collaborated on dinner, then moved to the front porch for iced tea and talking. Finally we retreated to the living room, after the sun went down, and watched a little TV.
Aunt Sue went to bed after the eleven o’clock news but I sat up waiting for the late movie, an old Bogart flick. It wasn’t one of his biggies, just a pre-stardom job with Bogie as a supporting villain. No wonder I didn’t remember the title. I poured the last of the wine we’d began drinking into my glass, snacked up the rest of the cheese we’d been munching, and slouched in my chair trying to follow the rather draggy plot.
It wasn’t worth following. I slumped a little more, stretching my legs, licking the last wine drops from my lips. The room was dark and quiet, save for the TV set and its flickering black and white picture. Aunt Sue was probably asleep by now. I felt as if I were totally alone.
Maybe. I unbuttoned my blouse, left it hanging open for a few minutes, then removed it entirely. I like to be naked. Of course, I don’t get to do it much at home, except in my room, that with the family situation I live in, but when I get out on my own, I don’t intend to wear clothes at all in private. Unless, of course, Mama and Daddy are coming by for a visit. Any other callers will have to take pot luck.
Why stop at half-measures, Pamela Crosby? I asked myself, and there was no viable answer forthcoming. I stood up and let my jeans drop to the floor. They’re tight, and I had to wiggle to make them fall, and the clanging of the belt buckle sounded as loud as a hammer on an anvil. I held my breath for a minute, wondering if Aunt Sue had awakened, but she didn’t call out so it must have been all right.
It was better than all right when I took off my panties and settled my bare butt onto the soft cushion of the chair.
I touched my pussy, a soft testing touch, and found that I was warm and velvety. A little smile curled my lips. My snatch wasn’t quite so raw and tender this evening, and I didn’t jerk spastically when I fondled the lips of my cunt. A sure sign that my period was drawing to a close. And thank God for that! No wonder we call it the curse!
The warmth began to spread as I touched and rubbed my gash with a bit more vigor. Hush-a-bye, I thought, hush-a-bye, Susie. Her bedroom was here, on the ground floor, and if she wasn’t sleeping soundly, she might come strolling out when I least expected it. So I wished her sweet dreams and myself something even sweeter.
Oh, fuck! I shouldn’t trust it to chance. I stood up and got into my panties and shirt and went tiptoeing down to her door. Gently I opened it, peering inside. A shaft of moonlight arrowed through the open window, outlining and revealing her face where it lay on the pillow.
Her hair was loose and flowing, her eyes shut in dreamy sleep, and the cover lifted and fell in a soft, almost imperceptible motion as she breathed in her repose. Funny thing about moonlight, I told myself. It was very kind to Aunt Sue’s plain face. She looked almost pretty asleep, with her glasses off and her face relaxed. Or maybe it was just the relaxation. She wasn’t engaged in presenting a desired image to the world at large. Her guards were all down and I was seeing the natural Susan. Such a shame. If she really wanted to, if she were willing to work on herself… Oh, it was her business, not mine! If she wanted to be dowdy and ugly, she could be as dowdy and ugly as she fucking well wanted. All I’d come for was to find out whether she slept or woke.
I closed the door and went back into the living room. As I passed the wine bottle, I picked it up by the neck and tilted it to my lips for a cleaning-up job on the final droplets left inside. A taste of wine tinged on my tongue, but only a taste. It had been half-full when Aunt Sue brought it out this evening, but it was empty now.
For a moment I stood on the floor just holding the empty bottle. My fingers slid mindlessly up and down the long swanlike neck, onto the belied jug. It was a long-necked bottle indeed — seven or eight inches of glass crafted into a thin cool tube. Seven or eight inches. A lot of guys didn’t have cocks that long. Seven or eight inches.
I unbuttoned my shirt and let it drop to the floor. The room was dark except for the TV. No one could see me. I rubbed the bottle up and down my breast, between my tits, across my nipples. It was cool at first, the glass of it, but it warmed as it touched and was touched by my skin, and when it was nicely warm, I pressed it with my lips.
You’re crazy! I told myself, but I wasn’t really listening to me at the moment.
I put the bottle down for a sec, and took off my panties. Now I stood naked on the floor, and if Aunt Sue happened to come in on me now, I’d have some explaining to do, straight on. But I felt giddy and sexy and all woozy inside, and if I’d been called on for excuses, I could have come up with some zingers.
There was a car chase happening on TV — cops chasing the mob, one gang pursuing another — who cared? Some nice thirties’ style suspense music accompanied, full of clashing cymbals and string teasers, and I started into a brand-new boogaloo that fit the movie tune. As I danced, I swooped low, bending to the floor and picking up the bottle where I’d placed it while unpantying.
Everyone says I’m a good dancer, and they must be right. I enjoy doing it, and I was enjoying myself right now. The music stopped, but I didn’t heed it as long as I could keep to the beat I’d set for myself.
I began to play with the bottle while I danced and swayed. I stroked my face with the neck and the bell, passed it round me from front to back and all the way home, slid it up and down the flatness of my tummy, the neck’s end reaching low into the curly fluff of my reddish beaver.
The nozzle poked through my hairs like a big glass finger and scraped the slightly prominent lips of my cunt. It also touched the string of my tampon, which I’d almost been lucky enough to forget about. Still moving in my boogie, I drew the bottle back and forth between my thighs, letting it tickle my cunt, and then I put it down.
I removed the tampon and wrapped it in tissues, then positioned myself above the bottle and started to lower away. Its tip touched my squishy slice, tipped momentarily, then caught itself and began to push its way inside my cunt-hole. I held my breath as the bottle end slid between my twat-lips, and I sighed happily when it was wedged fast.
I stood up then, supporting the bottle with my hand and holding it in place with my cunt muscles. Being screwed when you’re on the rag is a whole different trip, even if it is only a glass bottle that’s doing the deed. A cunt feels alive and throbbing in every nook and cranny, and to take something solid inside it makes for an incredible, intense feeling. Especially something as hard, as solid as the thick glass neck of the wine bottle.
I pushed it up into my hole, bouncing softly in place, and my tits swung and jiggled. When the bottle’s end hit the end of my snatch, I thought I’d burst apart in orgasm, and I could smell the sizzling mixture of cunt juice and menstrual blood that was making my snatch a swampy bog. Some of the scummy mess was dripping onto my fingers as I fucked the bottle and to feel it was a new turn-on. I bent my upper body forward so I could hump my glass prick just a bit more forcefully.
Slowly I dropped to my knees, but only as a preparation for moving backwards onto the floor with my shoulders down and my knees high. Careful, Pamela! Glass can break!
If Aunt Sue should come out — perish the thought — I’d be up shit creek. This was too heavy to be explained away. So if she did, I’d tell her the fucking truth and let her do as she pleased. She was sleeping like a baby, anyway. Instead of worrying, I raised my butt from the floor and tried to shove as much of that glass cock up my hole as I could manage.
My cunt seemed to stretch out a bit in this position, and I got a little more of the bottle into my twat. It was thin admittedly, not as bulky as most of the pricks I’ve allowed to enter my pussy, but it had a wonderful rigidity, too. It stayed there, hard, long, penetrating. It didn’t go soft too soon, it didn’t waver in the firmness of its presence.
I began to twist the bottle around in the wet maw of my cunt. My knees swayed and my tits heaved as I gave myself over to the fantastic stimulation, and my menstruating cunt felt bathed in a warm, red-glowing aura of excitement.
Lilly, I thought. Lilly would love this bottle the way my mother loves my father. It would be the perfect answer for my girl friend. She’d never need a man if she had a long-necked bottle she could thrust up her pussy whenever she felt the need for something beyond the excitations I could give her.
What about me? I was getting off on it, too. In fact, this Goddamned bottle had more style, more personality, than half — no, three quarters — of my most recent male lovers. But if I closed my eyes, I could taste Lilly’s sweet breath on mine, feel her lips chewing my lips, her fingers twinging through the coppery hair that fringed my slit. I could sense the invisible presence of her body close to mine, smell the wonderful fragrance of her cunt as we moved even closer. I wondered if she were thinking about me right now. From Ohio to Maryland. If I tried, if I really tried, could I reach across that distance and catch hold of her soft hand?
“Lilly,” I whispered into the darkness, “Lilly!”
I don’t know if I heard her ghostly answer. Part of me throbbed in delight at the very syllables of her name seeping from my lips, and I could almost swear, for only a thrilling moment, that I heard her husky voice reply, “Pam.”
She meant so much to me, more than any of the guys ever had or ever would. Why should I keep on, spreading my thighs for almost any guy who asked, when I could have Lilly? She didn’t take me for granted. She loved me. Even when I was at my bitchiest and most disagreeable. Still Lilly would take me in her arms and hug me and kiss me and feel my tits, and the bitchy impulses would fade like a morning mist and in a trice I’d be doing the same lovely things to her and both of us would be purring like cats in heat.
Maybe I was really a lesbian at heart. Lilly says all women are, that they love to touch other female flesh, to kiss it, to suck it, and that society’s wrong for putting so many obstacles in their way. God knows she loved to touch and kiss and suck my flesh, and when she did that, I couldn’t keep my hands and mouth off hers. Maybe it was fated to be this way.
Oh, I tried to reason with myself, who knows what she really needs or wants at this age? Chronologically I was still a kid. Wasn’t it too early to be settling into the pattern that would determine the rest of my life? I was too young to be married on impulse; it should be too young to decide my sexual orientation, too.
I shoved the bottle-prick into my cunt with a frisky twitch, thinking of Aunt Sue’s friend Lee Kinloch. Yesterday I’d been bound and determined to try him on for size. This evening I was ready to commit myself to life as a lesbian. I didn’t know what I wanted, and I felt as if events were conspiring to corral me.
Pim-pam-pom! I battered the end of my cunt with the open end of the bottle, fast, hard, twisting stabs, and I felt my cunt quivering and gulping, as if it wished to swallow the bottle with a free good will. See, Pam, I reasoned. Even your body doesn’t know what it wants yet. Let your head have a rest. Try to take it easy. Easy. Lee Kinloch could give it to me hard, I was positive. He looked like such a good lay, how could he help being one? Women must be after him like flies. With his looks he’d be cutting myself in the nuts if his bed technique were sloppy.
Oh, he was a definite! Maybe he could cure my growing disenchantment with guys. Bet anything his cock was long and hard and full of life, so much warmer than the cold glass I was using on my twat now. Maybe Kinloch would be the trick to turn the trick. I’d have to keep it covert, out of Aunt Susan’s ken, but I had no doubt I could get his pants down and his pecker up. He was a man, all man I hoped with all my heart, and I was definitely all girl. Nature would do the rest.
My hands gripped the bottle savagely and I fucked my cunt with it feverishly. The insides of my pussy were red and raw again. I must be bloody as a freshly busted virgin inside, and I felt just about as sore. God, I’d be aching in the morning!
But right now I was aching, aching for my release, and the now is always more important than the later. If I paid for it tomorrow, I’d pay for it with a smile. Furiously I fucked myself, wanting only to relieve the gnawing hunger that lurked in my snatch.
Here — there — in — out — go, bottle, go! “Ah, you son of a bitch!” I told my glass lover in a thin squeaky voice.
My pussy muscles milked up and down the smooth, cunt-warmed, cunt-wettened shaft of the bottleneck. If it had been a cock, it would be squirting me like crazy right now, filling my cunt with hot jizz, but it was only a fucking bottle. It just lanced, still hard, still solid, till the flood of my orgasm made me so weak I could no longer maintain a grip on the bottle’s bell and it sagged to the floor with a clink. My cunt was so greasy by now that it slid free of my gash, and I just lay on the cool floor mopping at the blood and cream on my beaver, asking myself how I’d ever been so shameless as to fuck myself with a Goddamned bottle.
You are a slut, Pamela Crosby, said my common sense, and the rest of me agreed thoroughly. I was a slut, a come-crazy slut. Decency had no place in my vocabulary, nor did morals nor respectability. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
The Bogart movie was over. How long over I didn’t know. There wasn’t even a test pattern on the TV, just a screen full of snow and a crackling static noise. I shut off the set, picked up the tissue-wrapped tampon, and placed it over my cunt so I wouldn’t drip on the stair carpet. Goddamn it! I went back and got the bottle. I’d clean it off and take it to Lilly as a present. Maybe by the time I saw her again I’d have an answer for her invitation.
True to prediction, I awoke early next morning with an aching pussy. It was like an open wound between my legs and I had to massage it with both hands before I could even stand to get out of bed.
Aunt Susan was the slug — a-bed today, though, and I felt smug and happy when she entered the kitchen to find me already at work on breakfast. “The day’s half-over,” I told her in a country drawl. It was precisely nine o’clock.
We shared a leisurely meal — it was after ten before we finally rinsed our coffee cups and cleaned up the few dishes we’d dirtied. Aunt Sue went into her office to get a bit of work done, but only a bit. She was driving into Athens for a visit to the library again today, and this time I didn’t turn down her invitation. I’d been out here since Saturday afternoon and already I was going stir-crazy. I needed life and people.
There wasn’t much life on campus during the second summer term, and Aunt Sue had no trouble finding a good parking place for her car. We went into the library, and I excused myself as soon as we were inside, to visit the ladies’. Aunt Sue showed me where it was and pointed to the elevator. “I’ll be on 7,” she said.
I went to 7 and trotted through the stacks in search of her. She was between two large book stacks talking to a man. Lee Kinloch, of course. I went in to join them, my footfalls silenced by the floor carpeting, and neither of them knew I was there till I put my arm around Lee’s shoulder and leaned in to say, “Hi, Aunt Sue. You’re hard to find.”
Putting my arm around Lee was an automatic, unthought gesture. He blocked my way in, and I had to lean past him to get Aunt Sue’s attention, and I’m a very physical person, besides, I like to touch and be touched.
Lee’s head turned at my laying-on of hand, and he smiled in greeting. So did Aunt Sue, but her face was brick-red and I couldn’t believe tne ferocious gleam in her hazel eyes. Didn’t she even know that she was giving me a hate-filled stare? Her voice was no traitor. It was calm and evenly modulated.
She was jealous! It struck me at once. Aunt Sue couldn’t bear the sight of me touching her friend, even in so innocent a fashion. That confirmed my suspicions. She was hung on him, and with about as much chance of getting him as Nixon has for a comeback. Well, fuck her! I had my eye on Lee, too, remember, and if I couldn’t get him, he couldn’t be gotten. I didn’t create her plain and dowdy and backward with men.
But I took my hand away all the same, as Lee stood aside to let me join them. They were talking about books and authors — why didn’t she ever try to bring the subject around to dripping pussies, her own in particular? Or maybe Aunt Sue was so dried up her pussy didn’t even drip these days.
“Look,” I said, “how would it be if I took a walk? I saw a couple of boutiques and shops that looked interesting.”
“Oh, fine,” Aunt Sue replied, with eyes only for Lee, who had his eyes on me. “That would be a good idea. I’ll probably be here for a couple of hours.”
“Okay,” I grinned. “Catch you later.”
Mostly I wandered around trying on clothes. Mama had given me a couple of hundred for expenses and trivia during the month I’d be here, and it was burning a hole in my purse. But today was just for looking. I went to several little boutiques and tried on a few items, but ended up empty-handed.
Finally I went back to the library but I didn’t feel like going inside. It was a lovely late July day, warm and sunny, and the sun bathed the library steps. I stretched out on the stone banister, which was just made for lying on, and I wished I could strip off my clothes and let all of me enjoy the sun.
Not too far away the noon carillon was ringing in the campus belltower. Carillons are sweet music even when played slightly out of tune, as this was being played, and I closed my eyes appreciatively.
I didn’t open them till someone tapped on my forehead and I looked up to see a guy. He was standing on the ground beside the banister, and he was built like a basketball player, very tall, very lean, cute in a jock way.
“Uh,” he said, “is this the library?”
“Don’t you know?” I asked. He was wearing an Ohio University T-shirt and he had some textbooks under his arm.
“Unh-unh,” he grinned. “I’ve been here three years and this is the first time I’ve ever had to.”
“Too bad,” I consoled. “One more year and you could have tried for a record of some kind.”
He smiled in agreement. “Life gets tasteless, don’t it?”
He planted himself on the steps beside me and we began to talk. Obviously he didn’t care if he never got to the library. His name was Alan Burke, and he was indeed a basketball player. Not All-American, or whatever basketball players get to be, but pretty good. At least, that’s what he told me.
We were still talking when Aunt Sue and Lee Kinloch came out of the library and down the stairs. “Oh, hi,” I told them. “Are you ready to go, Aunt Sue?” She nodded.
“You don’t have to run off, do you?” Alan wondered. “I mean, I’d hate to lose you now. Would your aunt mind if you hung around a little while? I could take you home.”
“Go ahead, if you want to,” Aunt Sue said considerately. “You remember how to get back to Sugar Creek, don’t you, Pam?” I was pretty sure I did, and so she and Lee went on. I was sorry to see them go, especially him. I’d been hoping I might have a chance to work my wiles on him — maybe even today — and this Alan character just wasn’t in Lee’s league.
But Alan was pleasant, and aggressive, too, and when he suggested a guided tour of the campus, I shrugged and went along. His tastes inclined to the more secluded areas, I was quick to learn. We went down a hillside, passing between two fraternity houses, and he led me across the dried-up bed of the Hocking River.
Alan led me up the bank and he pointed out the squirrels which scampered boldly everywhere. They were, he said, descended from the squirrels of Harvard Common. The founders of Ohio University were all Harvard men, and one of them went east to get shrub cuttings and fauna from Harvard Yard to add the homey touch to the new school’s grounds.
That was a nice story, and Alan elaborated on it as we walked. Almost before I knew it we were deeply surrounded by trees and it was shady and cool and a squirrel was chattering on a limb overhead when Alan took me in his arms and pulled me tight for some kissing.
He was over a foot taller than I was, even with my three-inch heels on, and I stood on tiptoes until his hands clamped onto the cheeks of my butt. He lifted me up then, and I locked my legs around his calves as we rocked and kissed together.
My tits ground into his chest and my crotch was upon his. I could feel the presence of a cock inside his pants, a sizable cock indeed, growing more sizable by the minute. I pushed it with my cunt-mound, feeling it grow stiffer, firmer, and I should have been excited. But I wasn’t.
His kissing was okay, I suppose, with plenty of tongue and lip action, and he was taking my breath away with it. His hands were big and hard and strong on my butt, and his body supported mine with no discernible effort. Alan was in good shape. So maybe it was me. Maybe I was just tired of it all.
He took a firmer handhold on my butt and his fingers began to dig into my skin through the velvety yellow layer of shorts and the panties underneath. Two of his fingers tickled the leg opening and started to wiggle inside, their obvious goal my covered pussy. I squirmed uncomfortably in Alan’s grasp and loosened my legs from his.
“Unh-unh,” I said, taking my mouth away from his and trying to step once more to the ground.
“Uh-huh,” he grinned, holding me tightly with my legs kicking in air, and he crushed his mouth down upon mine.
I got my hand against his chest and tried to push myself away from him. Stop it! My body was telling him, but his body was having none of it.
Finally Alan let me sink to my heels on the soft grass. I backed away from him but he followed, and before I knew it I was really backed — against a tree with him pressing me from the front, trapping me where I stood. When he took my chin in hand and lifted my face to aware himself another kiss, I bit his lip.
His head snapped back and he rubbed the wound with his finger. “You’re too fast,” I said. “Give a girl a chance, will you!”
His answer was to pull open the tie of my halter and cover my bared tits with his big strong hands. He squeezed and caressed, manipulating me roughly while I warbled in protest. I tried to shove him away, but my feminine resistance was a joke in contrast to the power of his body.
“Leggo, damn it!” I was angry, breathing hard, and my tits swelled up big and full as they rose and fell. Alan’s eyes grew dreamy looking into mine as he cradled my boobs in his palms. He leaned his groin against me and I felt his cock, even harder than it was before.
“Let’s fuck now,” he suggested. “I have to be at the gym by two-thirty for a workout.”
“Get away,” I replied, jiggling in his grasp. “I don’t want to fuck.” I didn’t. He was too crude, too aggressive, took too much for granted. So what if he was cute, with an obvious hard-on? He was still a boy, and I’d had my fill of boys.
Alan let me feel the hot throb of his boner then, grinding his body on mine. “Tell him,” he suggested, eyes flashing down to his cock for a second. “Tell him you don’t want to fuck.”
He pulled me to the ground with him, and still I was leaned against the bole of the tree with Alan pinning me from the front. One of his hands cruised back and forth between my freed tits while the other cupped the crotchstrip of my panties and the warm plump bulge lurking inside. He squeezed firmly and I felt my cunt almost thrusting itself more enthusiastically into his grip. Ouch! I was still sore from last night, even if my puss seemed to have a slutty little mind of its own!
“Nice,” he complimented rue between sucker bites on my neck. “Hurry up and get undressed. I have a foot of pounding meat that has to get buried, and your little hole is just the place.”
What a line! Universities spoil athletic stars, you know. They give them cash, a car, fancy apartments, all the pussy they can eat or screw — anything to keep a winning team. And Alan Burke was spoiled rotten. I’d gone for a walk with him, I’d let him kiss me — therefore, my twat was pouting for his prick. Jocks don’t do much for me. They’re usually so in love with their own beautiful bodies that they don’t have any thought to spare for other beautiful bodies — like mine. All they want is a tight hole to puddle in.
Alan got his knee between my legs and it replaced his hand in rubbing my pussy. His thighs were long and hard, well-muscled, and one of them was wedged tightly against my box. God, when he slid it up and down! I couldn’t believe I’d been slut enough to fuck myself with a bottle last night, but my aching gash reminded me vividly, and I moaned in discomfort as he grew more aggressive.
“We better hurry,” he suggested, tugging my halter off my resisting shoulders. I twitched in refusal, but he got his mouth onto my nearest nipple and he started chewing and sucking. It was a rude, no-class type of assault but I felt my nipple stiffening under his attack.
“Ohhh,” I wailed, hoping I wasn’t weakening.
He fumbled with the button of my shorts, pulled down the zipper, and dragged the yellow pants to my knees. “Hey,” I told his head as it nursed my right tit, “I have an idea. Why don’t you let me give you a nice hand-job? I have magic fingers, you know. Zippety-zap, and — voila!”
“I wanna fuck,” he mumbled with his tongue wrapped around my nipple. He crooked his fingers inside the waistband of my bikinis and tugged them down to the tops of my thighs. I felt a rustle of breeze in my beaver.
“I don’t feel like it,” I said glumly.
He raised his face and stared up into mine. “I feel like it, and if I feel like it, then you feel like it. Got that?”
He was smug and arrogant as he eyed me, and then he shifted his gaze down to my cunt.
“Holy fucking shit!” he spat, seeing the string of my tampon white and twined among the curly red hairs. “Why didn’t you tell me you were on the Goddamned rag?” He caught the string and gave it a vicious yank that dragged the tampon out of my hole and made my slightly raw cunt-lips wince in pain.
He stared at the red-smeared barrel, then tossed the sanitary object into the bushes. “Come on,” he said, “get those legs apart. I got a hard-on that won’t quit!”
“Is that all that matters?” I asked. “Your lousy hard-on?” He didn’t answer. He just got up and undid his pants. In a moment his hard-on was exposed before me.
He was right. That cock of his didn’t look as if it knew the meaning of “quit”. It was big and long and thick as a spray can of deodorant. Beneath it dangled a big sac of balls, and dark curling hairs grew all around the base in tangled profusion. It was a wicked-looking cock. He could have used it for a baseball bat, and I grew suddenly afraid as I thought of how it would feel, shoved into my cunt.
The tip was enormous, red as the end of a kitchen match, and Alan lunged towards me with it. He slapped me in the face with his prick, and his voice had a sharp tone. “Suck it first,” he commanded. “I like to be sucked before I use my lousy hard-on in a lousy little cunt.”
He kept banging his knob on my lips and I didn’t have much choice. Opening my mouth, I sucked his rod inside.
My tongue glided and rolled as his cock rampaged in me. My lips were stretched to their fullest and still they seemed inadequate to accept his bulky tool. Suction was almost out of the question, but I tried. Maybe if I sucked his cock nicely, passionately, he might decide to let it go at this.
He seemed to appreciate the little I could do. He grabbed my head with one big hand — I suppose my head was smaller than a basketball, and consequently an easy mark for his fist — and he maneuvered me into place so he could fuck my mouth.
Well, if that would satisfy him! I stopped moving my head and tried to make my lips a soothing glove for his cock as he worked in and out. But Alan must have seen Deep Throat too many times. He fucked my face as if I were Linda Lovelace or some other cinematic champion cock-sucker, and I had to gurgle and gasp in protest when it seemed he was trying to raw my throat in the fury of his onset.
“More tongue!” he called, and it was hard to use my tongue at all, the way his prick was inserted, but I did all I could. I licked his rod as he thrust it back and forth, and I tried not to gag when his knob invaded the farthest reaches of my throat.
Alan pushed harder and harder, till the back of my head was square against the tree trunk and I could evade him no more. He moved, too, coming against me hard, and the tab of his undone zipper scraped my neck just beneath the chin when his cock was fully imbedded in me.
There was a moistness in my cunt — slowly oozing menses, most of it, but a drippy, watery lubrication was there, too, the kind I always get when I have a big, hard cock in my mouth. So maybe he didn’t turn me off as much as I thought. Or maybe I had the intentions of a good girl and the body reactions of a grade-A slut.
Alan put his hand in my crotch, touching the damp slit, and his middle finger suddenly pushed into my hole. I moaned and yipped around his big dick as he worked that finger in my cunt. Yes, my pussy was sore, sore as a boil, but when he twisted this way and that, when he made a slow, dragging retreat only to plunge his digit all the way up my hole with a stabbing plunge — well! The soreness became something altogether different, something approaching ecstasy.
But his finger was only a bit smaller than the wine bottle I’d fucked myself with. He spread my cunt, he reamed it, but he didn’t stretch me unbearably. I didn’t think I could take his cock, on the other hand. If it strained my mouth to the ripping point, what would it do to my menstrual-tender pussy?
Alan pulled his cock out of my mouth with a sudden jerk that made my head reel. I bumped the back of my skull against the free and little stars flashed before my eyes for a second. There was a numbness and when I could feel anything, what I felt was Alan thumping the tip of his fucker in my bush.
“No,” I said, “You’ll kill me with that thing! Let me suck it for you.”
“When I want to fuck, I want to fuck!” he snarled, and he shafted me with his polo.
I screamed. I couldn’t repress it no matter how much I wanted to. Alan’s prick slammed into my cunt, searing my raw hole with its hot thickness, and I wanted to burst into flames from my clit to my womb. I screamed again when I felt that he was pulling back for a fresh stroke, and he clamped his elbow down upon my chest, cutting off my breath for a moment. My head swam from oxygen-denial. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. By the time Alan lifted his bony elbow, he’d plugged me half a dozen times in rapid succession. My cunt was still in one piece, but his prick was testing its limits and I felt like a production-line lemon.
Under normal circumstances I might have salivated at the very thought of taking his cock up my cunt. Certainly the challenge would have been irresistible. But these weren’t normal circumstances. No seduction, no persuasion, no mutual inclination. Alan had simply led me into the woods, told me what I must do for him, and now I was doing it.
If anything, this cemented my growing dislike for the male species. Oh, not all of them, maybe. I was certain that Lee Kinloch would have a better technique than this. The only trouble was that Alan might turn me off men so thoroughly I’d never take the time to give Lee a workout.
Alan fucked in and out of me, gasping as he thrust his cock to full insertion, sighing as he jerked it back for a fresh onslaught. Each of his plunging strokes lifted me off the grass where I lay, and I felt the spread labes of my pussy kissing and caressing the base of his dick and the dangling noose of his balls.
It must have been fantastically easy for him. After all, my cunt was bloody-wet inside and greasy as an oil-pan. He moaned as he slammed me back and forth, but that moaning must have been due to the tightness of my snatch. Alan’s was the biggest cock I’d ever had in my cunt, definitely, and I wondered how long I could endure it.
His eyes were closed and, though his hands clutched me, they weren’t fondling or caressing. He was merely holding onto my body as a brace for his strenuous fucking. I meant nothing to him as a person. I’d known that for some time now. I was just a handy cunt — a giant fist in which he could shuck his pecker before going to the gym for a workout.
That fuck tool of Alan’s ravaged the insides of my cunt and I wished it in hell a million times over. My body jerked and writhed each time his prick pushed into me, and my cunt was sopping with spilled menstrual blood. Jesus, I could smell it wafting up from down there into my nostrils. The way he fucked me I couldn’t help moving and twitching, and he must have thought it was turning me on, because he muttered, “Oh, yeah, baby — yeah — shake your ass, Pat…”
“Pam,” I corrected, finding my voice as he fucked me savagely and deeply. “Oh, Christ, I’m too sore! Why don’t you quit it?”
“You — don’t feel — sore — to me…” he grunted.
“Ouch!” I screamed shrilly, trying to prove that sore was what it was all about. Alan cuffed me hard alongside the cheek and I blinked back a hot burning tear. I didn’t want to yell again. I could sense that he’d given me but a warning tap.
“Jesus, you’re tight,” he complimented between stabs. “You a virgin or something?”
Hell of a time to be asking that! “No, I’m not!” I gasped, feeling a particularly deep stab. Sometimes it’s like heaven when a dick plays around the mouth of your womb. If the owner of the dick knows what he’s doing. Alan didn’t know much about screwing, in my opinion. He just lay on me, fucking his rocks off. And he smashed the end of my cunt the same way he tried to shove his cock down my throat — without the slightest consideration for me or my feelings. His cock was just a big pole moving around inside me, no brains, no plan, and the only thing I could hope for was that he’d be finished soon.
The ramming of Alan’s pecker pulled and jerked my cunt, of course, but I could scarcely feel it. Mostly I just hurt. He hadn’t done much to warm me up. He’d almost strangled me with his cock in my mouth, and he’d used his finger on my pussy, but that was it. The rest was the old routine — crawl on top and stick it in. I don’t like that a bit. If I have sex with someone, I like to know that I’m a respected, desired part of the encounter. I like to be made love to, not just thrown and dicked. If only Lilly were here. She and I had taken six months of karate lessons last year and she remembered everything. She could give this bastard a chop that would separate his cock and his nuts for all time, and she’d laugh in his fucking face afterward. I wished I were Lilly. I wished I were balling Lilly right now, instead of being screwed by this basketball-playing goon.
“Hurry up,” I snapped. “Your hot breath is making my eyeshadow run.”
He mustn’t have been used to getting lip from his girls — except for the kind of lip that melted around his peter. He called me a rotten name I won’t spoil the paper with, and he began to fuck me faster. Of course it hurt — I wanted to spit him right out of my cunt and drip blood on him — but it was a sign that he should be finished soon, and thank God for that.
“Unh-unh-unh,” he grunted, and his pecker slammed my box in hard, fast strokes. On the last one his body stiffened where it lay atop mine, and I felt him begin to unload his nuts. The hot cum squirted and sprayed inside me — I could feel each drop as it splattered from the tip of his prick — and it began to seep from the lips of my snatch as he pulled back to shoot me with even more. But his cock was losing its hardness, too — it was going slack even while it shot seed, and I sighed in relief.
Allan collapsed atop me then, sighing with fucked-out contentment. His body was long and powerful still, but he was weak from his release and I pushed him off me with no problem at all. He fell onto the ground with a snarl and he gave me a dirty look. I gave him the finger in reply and I pulled up my pants. My cunt was sopping with spilled blood and scum, and I couldn’t bear to look at it.
“Get out of here!” I told him. “I don’t want to see you when I opened up my eyes again.”
He crawled towards me. “You fucking cunt!” he growled. “I should have stuck it up your asshole instead.”
“You and who else, you overgrown pimple?”
He showed me who else then, when he belted me in the face. My cheek stung with the blow and I could taste blood on my lips where I’d bitten myself in surprise. His hand drew back to hit me again, and all I could do in defense was to close my eyes and scream the heavens down upon his head. It was a good scream, better than Fay Wray’s in King Kong. The underbrush crackled, not far away, and a voice called out words I couldn’t quite understand. Man made a gulping sound and he stood up fast, pulling up his pants as he did. He started running while he was still buckling his belt, and in the process he nearly had a head-on collision with a lady in a straw hat and artist’s smock. She seemed somehow familiar, and then I remembered tat we’d seen her painting by the old riverbed.
She elbowed Alan aside and made straight for me. I sat up and pulled my undone halter shut just as she knelt beside me.
To begin, she wasn’t a lady. No nasty meant there. But she was young, in her middle twenties, I supposed. Her hair was long, the color of spun gold, and her heart-shaped face was full of concern. For me? Who else? I asked myself.
“Are you all right?” she asked me, touching my shoulder. “Is there anything I can do?”
I shook my head. “I’m okay.”
“Did he rape you?” she asked indignantly.
She pointed to the front of my shorts. The mess from my pussy had leaked through, and there was a big purple-red stain on the pale yellow fabric. “Oh, shit!” I groaned.
She wasn’t my rescuer — she hadn’t come in time to save me from anything — but she was upset and I could sense that she somehow cared about me. Of course, it looked worse than it really was. “The blood’s menstrual,” I said resignedly, staring at the big red smear. “My aunt is gonna shit when she sees that.”
Her hand patted my shoulder in a consoling gesture and I felt our hearts meeting somewhere in the space between our bodies. I had no control over that, none at all. It was as natural and automatic as the daily routine of sun and earth.
I’ve already told you about her big straw hat and her golden hair and her perfectly shaped face. Well, the rest of her was definitely up to par.
She wore an artist’s smock, bright pink with little stains of paint here and there and brushes and pencils sticking from one pocket. The smock was unbuttoned and I could see that she also wore a snug blue body shirt, a shade and a half darker than her lustrous, liquid eyes, and below that a denim skirt, very short. Those faggot fashion designers have been trying to kill the mini for years, but my new friend’s legs were the absolutely unanswerable argument for short skirts. They were long and tanned and beautiful.
Her face was a valentine heart, big blue eyes and a little red mouth and a tiny dimple in her chin. She was a walking advertisement for perfect beauty.
I suppose she was in her middle twenties. Her name was Belinda. I didn’t have to ask, because it was rhinestoned in big bold letters across the front of her sweater. B-E-L-I-N-D-A, curving with the thrusting swell of her tits. I didn’t know whether her boobs or her monogram was the more eye-catching, but whichever, I found my eyes almost glued to her chest.
She had rings on every finger, the biggest one of those mood rings that change color depending on how you feel. It was deep black right now, a bad sign. A large gold wedding band was almost as noticeable.
“Come on,” Belinda suggested. “I’ll take you home and help you get freshened up. You really need it.”
We picked up her easel and painting — it was watercolor, a landscape, and I thought it was pretty good — and she took me to her car, a small red sports model parked in the stadium lot. From there it wasn’t far to her house, and I talked all the way in a burst of nervous energy.
I must have told her my life story, or at least the relevant portions, dwelling mostly upon the way I’d been misused a short time ago. She clucked in sympathy and assured me that we could dump my clothes into her washer and get them spic and span in a twinkling.
She lived on the south side of town. Belinda and her husband were newcomers here in Athens, having been here only a month or six weeks. Her man was a lawyer, she said, and he’d just taken on a partnership in a law firm here in town. They were from Illinois but she didn’t have a Midwestern twang in her voice. I didn’t care about her accent or her husband. I couldn’t take my eyes away from her.
She was so beautiful, I kept telling myself, and she carried herself in a way that showed she knew it. Her body was a study in graceful shapeliness and she had a nice personality besides. Alan hadn’t done a thing for me but Belinda Rodgers was the most erotically stimulating creature I had ever seen. My cunt grew damp as I shifted uncomfortably on the bucket seat, and I thought maybe I was seeping more blood, but that wasn’t it. I was just getting the hots for my blonde acquaintance.
Knock it off, Pamela Crosby, I told myself archly. She’s just being kind. She wants to help you. She probably even feeds stray cats and dogs, too. Besides, the only girl I’d ever been intimate with was Lilly. I’d never had the courage to make overtures to any other girls, and I wasn’t sure I knew how. With guys it’s so easy. You’re on the prowl and so are they. But with girls it’s a whole different scene.
Well, I thought, it’s settled. I’m definitely a lesbian. There’s no question whatsoever. A good-looking stud and his big thick cock had only turned me off, but I was about to cream in my panties thinking about how nice it would be to lick this nice lady’s nipples. I would have some good news for Lilly. Maybe I’d better call her this evening or tomorrow and let her know that I’d decided, and I’d better read the book she lent me, too, so I’d know how to behave as a full-fledged lez.
Belinda led me into the basement of her house, and she rounded up an armful of soaps and bleaches. “These should do the trick,” she informed me, setting the machine. “If you’d like to go around the corner and hand me your clothes, I’ll put them in the washer and find something for you to put on while you’re waiting.”
“No big deal,” I said with a smile, dropping my shorts and stepping out of them. I flipped them into the washer, then took off my panties, too. “He touched my halter,” I went on, “so I guess it would be sanitary to wash it, too,” and with that I was standing naked and unashamed before her.
Belinda handed me a tissue to wipe my cunt, and I only wished it were her fingers that did the job instead of my own. She smiled as she watched me, and I just kept wiping and swabbing, rubbing that soppy tissue till my cunt itched from the constant back and forth touching.
“You have a lovely figure,” Belinda said, her voice just a bit throaty.
“There are better,” I said boldly, meeting her eyes with mine. God, my nipples were hot and stiff, as if someone had been mouthing them without let-up for a long, long time! They ached and yearned and I wanted to touch them, to rub away their poignant erections.
Belinda turned away from me suddenly, and she flipped the washer switch into life. “How old are you?” she asked tightly. “You look very young.”
“I’m a senior,” I replied, taking a step closer. She could only slap me, throw me out on, my ass. I put my hand on her waist. She’d discarded her smock and the denim of her short skirt looked so inviting, so touchable…
Belinda stiffened at my touch and she turned back to face me, moving very slowly. My hand glided with her, remaining on the definite line of her waist. Her blue eyes were liquid and filmy and she was curling her mouth into a smile. “Do you know what you’re doing?” she asked, very softly.
“I think so,” I replied, and I leaned in to kiss her. She was just my size, and our lips came together perfectly.
My mouth was open and hers was shut, and it seemed that I was swallowing her up while the washer roared away in the background. I put both my hands on her waist and I squirmed against her bravely, and almost before I knew it Belinda had wrapped one of her long legs around one of mine and her hands were clawing fiercely on my bare back. Her lips parted to accept my tongue. Honey flowed into my mouth, hot and sweet as vintage brandy.
My tits crushed upon hers and our cunt-mounds oozed together. The denim of her skirt tickled my puss incessantly, and I thought I’d cream on the spot from pure excitement, but that was nothing to the feeling I got when Belinda’s hands cupped the cheeks of my ass and began to squeeze insistently.
I lifted as her hands commanded, and her fingertips moved into my crack, and then I wanted to climb her body like a tree. By now I was holding her tightly, as she did me, and our legs were entwined where we stood, and I’m not sure who or what was actually supporting us then.
She shuddered in my arms as the kiss became deeper, more searching, and I know that I was shuddering in her embrace, too. Why shouldn’t I be trembling? I’d fantasized this, almost from the first time I looked into her eyes, and now it was coming true. Was Belinda a sister? She was married, yes, but that was no guarantee of straightness. Certainly she knew how to kiss me and hold me, and I couldn’t believe this was her first time.
Finally our mouths squished apart and I found myself staring into the bottomless pools of her eyes. “You’re so gorgeous,” I said. “I want to love you.”
“Did I say you couldn’t?” she wondered with a come-on glimmer shining.
The basement floor was cement and of course we couldn’t roll one another on its cold surface. When Belinda suggested that we adjourn to her bedroom, I was dancing on air, and when she stood beside her bed, unwrapping her wraparound denim skirt, stepping out of her body shirt, I wanted to sing for joy.
Wearing only a filmy blue bra, Belinda held out her hands to me and I stepped close. The bright-pink smears of her big nipples were like eyes in the cups of her brassiere and I touched them through the sheer fabric, feeling their hard points. She closed her eyes and petted me while I stroked her, and then I undid the clasp between her tits and set free her jugs.
They were lovely — she was lovely — I couldn’t be so base as to single out the various features of her body and say this one or that was most outstanding. Her frame was voluptuously adorned, with a pair of rounded, thrusting tits that were already firm with lust. Her waist was narrow, flaring into lissome, well-curved hips and legs, and between her upper thighs nestled the sexiest, most edible-looking cunt I had ever seen.
It was plump and perfectly formed, the lips pink, the pussy fur shaven clean away, and the smooth, tanned columns of her legs framed it beautifully. I couldn’t resist the impulse to touch it, and my fingers stroked its dainty bulging presence.
“That feels good,” Belinda told me, kissing my neck. I pressed at the tidy gash and my little finger slid inside. She went onto tiptoes as I thrust deeply, and I felt her snatch begin to moisten around my finger. While Belinda oohed and ahed her delight, I bent my head and let my tongue butterfly back and forth on the stiff pink tabs of her nipples.
They seemed to swell and blossom to breathtaking proportions as I mouthed them, one after the other, and Belinda pressed her chest against my face. She had a full, womanly set of tits, and I could have been content merely to put my head between them and let the tanned globes caress my cheeks.
Belinda was tan all over, her body an even, sun-kissed shade of gold, and her face was flushed with excitement. I could feel a pounding of blood in my own temples, and there was a mist of spittle on my lips as I took them from her breasts and we stood face-to-face once more.
“It’s my turn now,” she husked, and she grabbed me by the waist. Resisting her was a fun thing to do, and we wrestled our way to the bed, bouncing upon it together in a tangle of legs and arms. Belinda pinned me easily, my legs apart, hers between them. She lay atop me, our crotches pressed tightly, and there was so much wetness between my legs that hers must have been leaking onto me. As she perched there, her boobs jiggled, the nipples sticking out big and pink, and my tits were heaving, too, and my nipples were just as big, just as pink, and I wanted so much for Belinda to suck on me.
Her teeth were smooth and white and even, a model’s set of teeth, or an actress’, and her lips were full and sensuous. I pursed my own, imagining how those lips would feel when they began to chew and pull my teats, and I wanted to see the red marks of her lipstick on my jugs. I put my hands on her cheeks and pulled her head downward. She laughed, all silver and sparkle, and her open mouth fell upon my tits.
We rolled on the bed as Belinda nursed me, and I found out how erectile my nipple tissue really was. The points engorged and thrust out a mile as her mouth pulled and twisted on them. I wrapped my hands around her head and clutched her to my bosom.
She reached between my legs as we writhed, and her hand seized a painful of my copper-bushed cunt-mound. The first sensation I felt was pain, the awful memory of that nasty Alan fucking me so rudely, but the soreness vanished as Belinda’s hand applied itself to the job of soothing away my cares. She rubbed and caressed, my pussy hair crackling electrically, and her knuckle joints tickled the tender lips of my slit. When two of her fingers went inside me without warning, it was a moment I knew I’d never forget.
Remember, I was still menstruating, and my cunny was sore as a busted finger inside. Belinda didn’t abuse me — she remembered, too, it was obvious — but she did show me how thin and how delightful was the division between pain and ecstasy. Her fingers were long and slim, and they wiggled in my tight glove-like pussy, squirming so deeply that her finger rings scraped and tickled the flanges at my entrance.
I whined and jerked and tried to fuck my pussy onto her fingers, to suck her hand all the way up my cunt. I could have done it, but she wasn’t ready for that. At least not yet. She just kept diddling me with those two long fingers, all the while sucking, biting, and kissing my tits.
She had a good oral technique. Her mouth fondled my nipples, teeth gently pulling the points as far as they would stretch. And before the rubbery tips could retract, she would lave them round and round with her tongue, last of all planting a smacking little kiss on the titty hard-ons she had orally nurtured. And just as often she would abandon the nipples altogether, using her tongue to lick big swirling circles on the lower and inner curves of my tits, teasing the sensile tissue there in ways I’d never been teased before.
My hand stroked up and down her back, into the cleft of her butt-cheeks. I found her asshole and probed it with a fingertip. Belinda wasn’t uptight about her shithole. Apparently it had seen its share of use and was ready to be used again, for my finger met no resistance at all from her sphincter muscle. If anything, she was able to open herself up and suck me inside her ass, and her butt wiggled happily when we came together.
So there we were. I still couldn’t believe it. Belinda made Lilly seem an amateur at lesbian love, and I knew that I was being had by an expert. Was Belinda a dyke, like Lilly and I were? I wanted to know, of course, but that could wait till later. We had some screwing to do.
I pulled my finger out of her asshole and patted the plump cheeks of her butt. “I want to eat you,” I told the top of her head. “Let me eat you. Please!”
She raised her head. “Unh-unh,” she giggled. “You’re a guest in this house, and my guests always come first.”
With that she touched my thigh, beckoning it to slip aside, and she pulled her fingers from my pussy. I caught a quick sight of her mood ring. It had been black when we first met, there in the woods, but now it was a gleaming purple. No doubt at all about her state of mind. She stroked my tummy with the flat of one hand, her eyes fixed on my pussy, and then she dropped her head and moved in on me.
“Hey!” I squealed as her mouth clamped down on my cunt. Had she forgotten so soon? Oh, God, this would spoil everything! As soon as she stuck her tongue into the sticky mess inside me. Belinda’s mouth roved up and down my cuntal region, licking and kissing. She caught some pussy hairs in her teeth and pulled them friskily, making me jerk and squeak, and I felt her tongue gliding across the supersensitive region at the tops of my thighs. And then she was licking the slice of my cunt, licking it with a free good will, her pink tongue flitting and fucking on the little protrusion of my inner labes. Oh, I thought, this is too good to be happening!
Belinda spread my gash with her fingers and she rammed her tongue into my hole. If she noticed the female fluids created by my period, she didn’t let me know. And when her tongue found my throbbing cunt and began to bat it from side to side like a croquet ball, I didn’t care any more.
She made humming, appreciative sounds as she slurped and sucked between my legs, and my cunt opened up like a gaping mouth to give her access.
Her fingers played with the rim while her tongue stabbed inside, and it seemed as if she had her entire head inside me. I could feel the point of her chin burrowing between my cunt-lips, and then it was replaced by her dainty nose, and finally her tongue roved inside once again, giving me the best of all. I lunged upward time after time as her mouth loved me, and I smeared my pussy upon her lovely face.
Belinda’s legs were near my head, and I reached for them. They were smooth and cleanly shaven, just like her cunt, and it was such a contrast from Lilly who believed that body hair was where it was at. Well, Lilly was fine in her place, but right now I was in Belinda’s place. I couldn’t pull the woman close enough to get my own mouth into action, but I was able to stick my thumb into her hole and my little finger into her shitter, and I began to use them as best I could for her benefit and amusement. It seemed to work.
She hopped when I double-pronged her and she lapped more furiously at my puss. Her mumbling moans increased and the vibrations tremored throughout my entire cunt. I got a thigh round her neck and pulled her head closer in a wicked wrestler’s lock that Belinda didn’t seem to mind at all.
She had the tightest, wettest snatch imaginable. It was in prime condition, besides. My thumb moved curiously inside it as I tested its velvety smoothness, and I kept brushing the bud of her clitoris. Bud? Her love-trigger was more like a treetrunk! It was big and limber, and it seemed to get bigger and more limber each time I strummed it in play. At the same time I’d wiggle and crook the little finger that plugged her asshole, and it seemed to be just what the doctor ordered.
There’s an old joke about how to tell when a snatch is worn out. You stick your thumb in the pussy and another finger in the ass and, if you can still snap them, then it’s worn out. Well, that’s a man’s joke. And Belinda was nowhere near worn out. She was tight and wet and any guy in the world would have been drooling to be in my shoes right then. But it was me she was loving, and that was how it should have been.
The asshole and the cunt aren’t very far apart. As my little finger jiggled inside her ass it could feel my thumb moving on the other side of the little wall of flesh that separates the two tracts. So I tried to work them in a kind of rhythmic alternation. Wiggle, thumb! Plunge, little finger! Each time Belinda squirmed where her body met my hand and joined it, and each time I made my finger work take on a slightly altered tempo so that she couldn’t guess what I might do to her next.
As if I had any idea myself! Her cunt was tight and wet and oozing with vibrant energy. She knew how to use it. The muscles inside her twat rippled and milked my finger, and it wasn’t so much me thumbing Belinda as Belinda cuntally ingesting my thumb. She heaved and jerked as she made love to my hand and snatch, and I could smell the lilac fragrance of her body so near to mine.
Belinda was no slouch in the snatch-eating department. God knows how I must have tasted to her. No one had ever gone down on me while I was on the rag before, and of course I loved it, but the girl must either have a cast-iron stomach or the most intense pussy hunger imaginable. She pried my labes widely with her fingers and she ravished my twat with her tongue, not forgetting to use her teeth when I least expected it.
My legs were thrown far apart and Belinda used her tongue and fingers on them, too, abandoning my steamy hole long enough for a bit of extracurricular stimulation. She’d be leaving teeth marks on my thighs, hickeys, too, and I’d wear them like a soldier wean his medals. If she’d only move closer, let me get my head between her legs instead of just my hand, I would give her the equivalent of a silver star for her very own.
I went into double-time with the finger and thumb I had stuffed into her, reaming her twin holes at the same time and with ferocious energy. The juices of her snatch soaked my hand. I could smell them drifting across the bed towards my nose. I’d had enough of touching them and smelling them. Now I wanted to suck up her moisture, to revel in it with my lips and tongue.
She understood. She didn’t let up her oral attack on me for the fraction of a second, but she began to slide her butt towards my face, and my hands, seizing the smooth columns of her thighs and the proud curves of her ass, did the rest.
I wasn’t plugging her with thumb and finger now. There was no need of it. I steered her groin and slipped one of her legs over me, and then her pussy came to rest upon my face. She was so smooth, so moist, so tingly warm — I licked her bulge with my racing tongue, scarcely taking time to pay special attention to her glistening cunt-lips.
Belinda squirmed when she felt my lingual caress, and she settled down upon me firmly. The slit in her shaven cunt-mound was pressing upon my mouth, so I jabbed my tongue inside and tickled everything I could find.
That included her clitoris, which, I’ve already told you, was slightly oversized. It had trembled passionately when my thumb played with its nubby projection, and I had thought that too darling for words. Now my tongue was upon it, wiggling it around and around, and I could taste the dewy juice in which Belinda’s trigger was bathed. The flavor lingered on my taste buds, thrilling me beyond belief, and I spread her delicate slice so that I could use my lips on her button. I wanted to suckle it, to nurse it like a nipple, and I did.
She sighed into my cunt, still licking and sucking, and I whispered her name gently. The half-spoken word seemed to echo and reverberate inside her parted gash. Belinda squirmed, causing her bottom to jiggle back and forth across my face, and she was leaking more fluidly than before. The little rushes of her cream drained into my open mouth and my head went dizzy with joy.
“Say something else,” Belinda implored, and as soon as she did, I knew why. Her lips were pressed into my own snatch and they fluttered teasingly upon my labes. A humming vibration ricocheted up and down my spread cunt. My cunt seemed to balloon enormously from the power of the echo, and I could feel my private juice flowing as copiously into Belinda’s mouth as hers seeped into mine.
“I love you,” I said, hoping that she appreciated the words as well as their effect. And then it didn’t seem important at all. I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to eat her cunt, and I prayed that she would concentrate on eating mine.
She did! And she was good, so good! Lilly had been my only female lover, and I had thought her perfect at what she did, but Belinda’s natural talent was stunning. Or maybe it was a cultivated accomplishment. I didn’t know or care. I just wanted her to do it to me!
I followed where she led, retaliating on her cunt as soon as my whirling mind understood what clever tactic she was practicing upon me. When she took my cunt between two fingertips and plied it forcefully, I did the same to her. One of my fingers lost its footing in her slippery slice and I found it irresistibly diving up the channel of her cunt. I couldn’t prevent it — I could only thrust it savagely and jiggle it with affection.
Belinda’s jerking cunt massaged my finger with manifold intriguing variations, and I didn’t really have to do anything. Her cunt was churning and performing, and my only role was to provide it with stuffing. Her snatch pulled mein and spat me out, only to draw me inside her once again. It was a mechanical process, in a way, but there was really nothing mechanical about her sweet, tantalizing pussy, a being of flesh and blood and human sensation. I began to lick the lips of her gash, admiring for the millionth time the shaven smoothness that I found. She cared for herself, it was apparent. There was no stubble — she must shave every day — and I could taste the faintest lingering trace of sweet talcy powder on her flesh, though the seeping wetness of her cunt was a delicious, overwhelming fragrance on my mouth.
That was about the time Belinda decided to go for broke with me. She caught my throbbing trigger between her lips and jerked it savagely, passionately, fantastically — at the same instant plunging all the fingers of one hand into my tight, raw hole. I screamed when I realized what she was doing, but I didn’t stop fingering and licking, and I couldn’t repress a moan of gurgling ecstasy when I felt my bloody cunt expanding to give her fingers access. She kept mouthing my clitoris, rolling it on her red lips, and her hand assailed my pussy. Almost before I knew it she had inserted her entire hand, right up to her wrist, and my cunny was getting the fucking of its life!
I had heard about fist-fucking but no one had ever done it to me. Not until now. Belinda seemed to enjoy it, to take a special delight in wriggling her hand as she used it like an enormous prick inside my hole, and I was learning to love the trick myself.
I wondered how far she intended to carry this, but the matter quickly became unimportant. My body turned into creamy pudding before I could stop it, and I couldn’t keep licking Belinda’s snatch. The only thing I could do was scream. By that time she was moving for an elbow-deep insertion of her screwing arm and only the ecstatic set of contractions that volcanoed through my pussy prevented her from doing it.
That, and the onrush of her own climax. I felt her pussy snap like a vise on the finger with which I pronged her, and a flood of girlish jism drenched my face. It was in my eyes, in my nose, in my mouth, and I sucked it through my screams and moans. Belinda squashed her creaming snatch down upon me and I breathed in its wonderful aromatic sensuality, wishing I could live out my life with my head between her legs.
We lay on the bed later, kissing and petting just the way Lilly and I always did after sex. Belinda’s face was smeared with my cum and menstrual flow, but I didn’t even think about that when our lips came together. I wanted her tongue inside my mouth and more inside hers, and we shared little dueling stabs back and forth till the madness wore off and we were able to relax.
“How long have you been gay?” I asked her, my hand cupping her ripe left tit. She was stroking my tummy, and I could see the mess my cursed cunt had left on the sheets, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“I’m not,” she said. “At least, not in the way you seem to mean. Why, are you?”
I nodded, and I told her the facts about me — how I’d been so breathtakingly promiscuous until I saw how dumb it was. Guys didn’t mean anything to me any more. Either they were dull and interchangeable, like most of the boys I’d balled, or they were crude and grabby, like Alan today. In fact, his insistence upon getting a piece of tail in return for showing me part of the campus was the straw that broke the camel’s back, as far as I was concerned.
“Girls are different,” I went on. “Like you. You knew I was on the rag, for God’s sakes, and it didn’t matter. You wanted me, and I wanted you, and we made it. I never heard you complain. Guys don’t even like to touch me that time of the month.”
“They don’t know what they’re missing, either,” she agreed. “When I have my period, I become a slutty animal. All women do. They’ve been conditioned not to want sex then, because it’s messy, but their pussies don’t know that, and their pussies get hungry.”
“Look,” I said, “I’ll be around Athens for at least the next three or four weeks. When yours hits again, I’ll eat you — I mean, you won’t be able to walk for a couple of days.”
“Promise?” she laughed. “But, Pam, I think you ought to know something about me. First of all, I am a very happily married lady. My husband and I dig each other. Love, you know? On the other hand, though, we’ve been into swinging almost as long as we’re been married. Open marriage — group sex — freedom for both of us — you name it. We’ve done it. Not since we moved here — we’re still sounding out the community, you know? I’m not a lesbian, not the way you say you are. I just like to make it, and making it with other girls is part of my life.”
I knew what she meant. I used to think I was the same way, that my principal interest was in boys, with Lilly as a constant source of variety on the sidelines. Not now. Belinda didn’t know that you can’t have it both ways. You have to choose. I tried to tell her.
“No, you don’t,” she replied softly. “And aren’t you kinda young to be making such a momentous decision? God, it’s nice to be a dyke when you’re ripe and tight and gorgeous, the way you are. But what about later? Have you ever thought about being fifty years old and cruising a gay bar looking for some young piece to go borne with you? And going home alone most of the time anyway? Oh, Pam, just because you haven’t felt the earth turning when some high-school Romeo balls you is no reason to give it up. Listen to me — I sound like a preacher. Well…”
She didn’t finish. Outside a car horn tooted and she smiled happily. “It’s my husband,” she said. “Don’t you dare move. He’ll want to meet you, and I think you might enjoy meeting him, too.”
She called to him through the open bedroom door and I heard him reply in a warm, pleasant voice. I sat huddled on the bed, a sheet pulled up to cover my body, and I wondered if Belinda always introduced him to her casual sex partners. Somehow I felt just a bit disappointed in her. I had thought I’d discovered a soulmate by such fortuitous chance, and now it appeared that I was just an afternoon’s fling as far as she was concerned. Shouldn’t I feel cheap, used, exploited? Probably, but the afterglow of the come I had shared with her refused to fade so abruptly as that.
He came through the door, neat and dapper in a stylish suit, and he smiled in greeting. Belinda led him to the bed and she said, “Pam, this is my husband David. He’s the best lawyer in the Midwest, and if we stay in Athens he should be county attorney within a couple of years. David, love, this is Pamela Crosby. She’s a delicious bedful, but she’s very down on the male species. Isn’t that a shame?”
“Definitely,” he said, his eyes twinkling at me. I couldn’t resist their charm, and I found myself smiling.
“Have you been a good boy today?” Belinda asked him, her hand coming to rest on the front of his pants.
“Aren’t I always?”
“The best,” she agreed, and she dropped to her knees before him. She was naked, of course somehow that didn’t seem unusual to me, since I’d come to be well acquainted with her nude body — but I wasn’t really ready to see Belinda unzip her husband’s trousers and pull his cock into the limelight.
His prick was soft then, though longish and nicely shaped, and she cuddled his rod in the palm of a hand for a moment, cooing to it and blowing warm breath across its barrel. Her eyes met mine — I saw a gleaming shade of blue take control — and she began to kiss and lick David’s tool.
I blushed. Belinda had confessed that she and her husband were into swapping and group encounters, but I’d never really been, and I felt just a bit embarrassed to see her giving him such intimate attention before my eyes.
It got more intimate. She held his cock by the tip, her mouth moving rapidly up and down the stalk. I thought of a typewriter carriage, or of someone nibbling an ear of corn. My face was as red as the interior of my pussy now.
David’s face was calm and his eyes studied me. His cock didn’t share his apparent serenity. He wasn’t erecting swiftly — Belinda was only toying with his cock, kissing it, licking it, sliding its tip on her cheeks and lips and nose — but his pink tool was getting pinker as it began to fill with lusty blood.
His cock was perhaps half-stiff when she opened her mouth and sucked it in. Her eyes were open as she blew him, and I thought that unusual. I almost always close my eyes — it seems an automatic reaction — but she didn’t, and sometimes she looked towards me. More often, though, she gazed up at her husband’s face with love and affection shining. Neither of them seemed the least bit shy about doing this in front of me. David petted her golden hair as she sucked his cock, and he smiled at me once in a while, too. Well, she’d said they were into group encounters. I suppose this was old hat to them.
I was jealous. Belinda had enjoyed me with that same girlish enthusiasm, and it hurt me to see her sharing it with someone else. Even if he was her husband. I felt betrayed and abandoned.
David held out his hand, the fingers moving in subtle invitation. An invitation to me. I shook my head, pulling the sheet up to my neck. “Sure?” he asked, and Belinda’s eyes were focused on my own. Was this hypnotism? If it was, it worked. I let the sheet drop and I crawled towards the two of them.
My hand and David’s locked and I rose on my knees. He bent into me and our lips met. He crushed my mouth with a kiss that was simultaneously gentle and raging, and I was astonished when I felt my tongue slipping between his lips of its own volition. David caught my tongue in his mouth and he sucked it warmly, and his hand was strong around my shoulders.
When our lips parted he had a smile for me, and he said, “You taste like Belinda.” I started to laugh and my hands encircled him and my head pressed closely to his chest. He hugged me in return, and we clung until I heard Belinda call my name.
“Your turn?” she asked, holding his red, stiff cock in her hand. Her lips were curled into a wet smile that wasn’t half so wet as the cock she’d just taken from her mouth.
I sank down and my fingers replaced hers on David’s tool. First I stroked his prick from tip to root, falling immediately in love with its hard male texture, and then I stuffed it greedily into my mouth.
I sucked his cock like a two-dollar slut in a back alley. My head bobbed back and forth, as fast as I could make it shake, and my lips were a tight ring on the perfect badge of his manhood. His cock was long enough and thick enough to make sucking it a real pleasure, and if he enjoyed it half as much as I did, he must have been ecstatic. But his serenity was a tougher nut to crack than all that. Even when I moved like a piston, he stood calm and still, touching me as I gorged myself on cock, and Belinda was beside me, her lips and teeth kissing and nipping my cheek and neck and shoulder. Her hands were on my tits, but she didn’t have to tease my nipples to stiffness. Nature had already taken care of that. All she could do was play with the pink thrusting caps of my tits, and she did that indeed.
I shifted around so that I was sitting on the edge of the bed accepting the oral penetration of David’s rod. Belinda worked her head between my body and her husband’s, and she began to nurse the tips of my boobs while her fingers splayed my pussy and slipped inside for some tricky games.
David put his hands on my head, and his fingers were very strong. He gripped me tightly, but he didn’t try to take over the action the way boys usually do when they’re getting excited. His loins moved, of course, and his cock eased into my mouth in slow sweeping plunges that didn’t interfere with the sucking pattern I’d already set up.
I wanted to do it right, to show him that I knew how to eat a cock, but that wasn’t to be. Belinda had been working on him, and with her mouth he must have been at least a little heated up by the time I started sucking. And my sucking became more gluttonous with each passing second. I twisted my head and tried out different lip pressures for the hell of it, and I used the tip of my tongue on the knob and sides of his pecker as it visited and revisited the different parts of my mouth.
Belinda’s lips were affixed to my navel and her tongue was rimming me there while her fingers played happily in the glove of my cunt. She was doing naughty things to my clitoris with those fingers and I felt a heated flush spreading across my body, centering in my swollen boobs. The nipples felt as if they were alive, throbbing on my chest, and each time Belinda twanged my clitoris I hummed and sang to her husband’s dick.
I must have done it one time too many. David suddenly exploded in my mouth, and I had his cum dripping from the corners of my lips while I tried to swallow it down.
He shot me lovingly, filling my mouth with the nectared sweetness of his jizz. It was thick and plentiful and it was too good to swallow. I wanted to savor it for all time to come. But realities are realities, and I drank it down nonetheless. Not all of it. David could really squirt out his stuff. He was like a fountain in my mouth, and the overflow dripped in sticky white trails from my lips, some of it falling onto Belinda’s face as she mouthed my belly button.
She looked up, wondering, perhaps, what rain might be sprinkling her, and her face was right in line with me, so I let a big creamy glob of cum fall from my mouth onto hers. She smiled and licked it up greedily, her fingers coming up at once to save the other surplus droplets that had splattered on the rising curves of my tits. She stuffed her wet fingers into her mouth and sucked them clean, and in the process she was able to play with my nipples just when they needed it.
The steady flickety-flick of her nails made me twitch and ache inside, and tat, coupled with the tickling Belinda had already given me and the sensation of having her husband’s dick erupting in my mouth, set off a familiar set of seismic waves in the region of my ovaries. I whimpered with my rising come and my lips trembled around David’s cock, which stayed hard in my mouth even though he’d just spilled a king’s ransom of sperm.
David took his rod from my oral grip — by then I wasn’t really feeling anything in my lips and only the sudden emptiness told me he was gone — and he stepped back a pace or so, where he began to undress quickly.
Belinda laid me out on the bed, petting my shuddering body as she did, and we shared a mutual cummy kiss of passion. When her face moved away, I could see that David was naked now, and that he was coming to join us on the mattress.
He and Belinda made a perfect couple. Where she was golden and ultra feminine, he was dark and very much a man. His body was a good one, I thought, trim and conditioned, neither skinny nor over muscled, and he wasn’t hairy. I don’t like hairy guys. David’s chest was nearly as smooth as mine, much flatter, too, and I touched it with my hand as he settled down beside me. His nipples were hard, just as mine and Belinda’s were, and it was nice to roll my fingers on them. Some guys don’t enjoy that, but he did, very much, and he covered my hand with his.
“Pam doesn’t like men,” Belinda announced solemnly as her husband touched me on the cunt. “Why is that?” David wondered, slipping two fingers into my hole. They were long fingers, I noticed, and they had playful impulses which David Rodgers should have patented and put on the aphrodisiac market straightway. He could have made a fortune.
“Too many boys have dumped on me,” I said absently, my hips moving as his fingers worked inside my twat. “I thought I’d give them up, stick to girls, you know? Uh, could you do that one more time? Please?”
“I know what your problem is,” Belinda suggested into my ear. “You’ve been screwing around with too many boys. Why don’t you try a man for a change? I don’t think I’m bragging when I say I’ve got the best anywhere.”
She had a point. There was something about David I liked very much, and it wasn’t simply the way his fingers tickled me cuntally from the inside out, though that was a big part of it. He was very masculine, but he had a gentleness to him as well. He didn’t have to be blatant about his manhood because, apparently, he had nothing to prove to anyone.
His lips touched my neck and moved down my breastbone. When they found my left nipple, I wanted to cry out in delight. If there was such a thing as perfect tit-sucking, he was doing it to me, right now.
He raised his face from my tit and he asked, “Would you like to fuck, Pam?” So polite, so considerate! I didn’t know whether to giggle or laugh. I wasn’t really used to having guys ask permission. So I giggled and then laughed and then I nodded a big yes to him, and David moved between the legs I was already spreading wide for him.
His cock hadn’t deflated yet — God, what control he must have I and he rubbed it on the outer flesh of my cunt before he prepared to enter me. He was hot and slightly wet and stiff as hell, and the constant tickling of his dick made me squirm in longing. “Hurry,” I implored.
“If that’s what you want,” he said right back, and he put his knob on the slice of my gash. My copper hairs parted for him, and I think my cunt even popped open to give him a clear shot at where I lived.
“Don’t be too savage at first,” Belinda counseled. “She’s having her period.”
“No wonder she’s so horny,” David said. “But I’d already noticed, anyway,” and he held up a red-smeared finger. Belinda eyed it this way and that, and then she opened her mouth and began to suck on it.
“Oh, God,” I said, overcome by the craziness of her action. I lifted my cunt and bumped it against the tip of David’s dick, and he remembered that I was there. He leaned forward and drove his cock into my cunt with a fierce impetuous thrust that brought his belly to mine almost immediately.
I moaned when I felt his rod inside me, and I clasped him in the compass of my legs. David grabbed me by one tit and he started to fuck me.
Jesus, I told myself. If I was married to this guy, I wouldn’t trade him around at swap parties. Belinda must be out of her fucking mind! He was good, the best I’d ever had.
His cock romped and sported in my cunny. There were no other words to describe the situation. He fucked me with a wicked expertise that I was certain could become addictive in about two and a half seconds.
How could I begin to compare him with any of the other guys I’d balled? There were no grounds for comparison. This, I was certain, was what screwing was all about. David wasn’t hunching me just to get his rocks off. He saw it as a meeting of our bodies and desires, a meeting that would be absolutely wasted unless both of us enjoyed it, and he screwed me accordingly. Or, shouldn’t I say, we screwed accordingly.
I loved it. When his cock plumbed me deeply, deeper, it seemed, than I had ever been fucked before, I wanted to leap into the air and take him with me. His big prong spread my cunt-lips widely and jiggled my clitty in its prepuce of flesh, and he held his belly upon mine while he shook his rod inside me to let me feel the full impress of its presence.
We were in a world of our own while we screwed, but it was a world that had room for at least one more person. As my cunt began to suck and gulp at David’s cock, Belinda took my face in her hands and turned it towards her. Her lips fell upon mine and her tongue jabbed inside me, fast, hard, just the way I was getting it cuntally from her husband. She was excited, too. How many times can you still get off watching your man ball another chick? I wondered, and I had no answer for my question.
She tongued me just as hard and fast as her husband fucked me, and I diddled her tongue with my own as it prodded in and out. David was holding one of my tits, and Belinda got her hand on the other one, gripping ft fiercely but lovingly. I couldn’t have fallen into better company if I’d put an ad in an underground newspaper, I thought smugly. They were beautiful, people and I felt beautiful just being with them here, now, fucking and living. Belinda stopped kissing me abruptly, and I wondered why. In a minute or so I found out. Her head had drifted southward and she was between her husband’s legs and mine, using her mouth to wet the round in which our sex organs did battle. I felt her tongue prod into my cunt alongside the stabs of David’s cock, and if I had the Oxford English Dictionary at my side, I couldn’t find enough words to tell you how it felt. She must have been sucking his balls alternately with her swipes across my split cunt, because every now and then I could feel David stiffening against me and plunging a particularly deep, penetrating pecker stab into my hole. And then Belinda’s tongue would follow David’s peter, follow it lustily, massaging every part of me that his cock was ignoring as well as a few places that I thought he had already tickled to perfection. She moaned as she mouthed, too, and the humming of her voice made my pussy pout.
Oh, maybe it was just the menstrual sensitivity, I thought. That, and the horniness that always accompanies my period. Maybe that was why I was getting into this so heavily. I didn’t know. I didn’t know a Goddamned thing, to be precise.
It might have been his cock, it might have been her mouth. Whichever, I found myself exploding in an atom bomb orgasm right about then, while David’s peter kept plunging up and down my cunt and Belinda’s fast-moving tongue flipped me time after time in a demonstration of what eroticism was all about.
My cunt juice flowed in a never ending stream that made David’s cock ride wet and sloppy, and the twitches of my pussy muscles would have caused a dozen men to give up the fight and spray me with their pecker-snot. The waves of my cum rolled and flooded in my belly, out my pussy, everywhere. I couldn’t feel anything, yet I could feel everything. It was the weird sensation that happens when I come. If Belinda still had her lips in the contested ground she was getting a mouthful of my jism, and more power to her!
I was like melted ice cream inside. Was I the same girl who, not an hour ago, had been certain that her life’s destiny lay in eating cunts? I couldn’t believe it. Belinda was fight. I’d been fucking too many boys. Today I’d taken on my first man.
David kept on ramming me, his strokes sure and steady. I couldn’t endure them another second. “No,” I whined, “stop!”
He stopped, God bless him! The lips of my snatch were so raw he’d have scraped them bloody in another second. I felt his cock leave my cunt, lingeringly, regretfully, and then his body was no longer perched above mine. I breathed a sigh of relief amid the shivering tremors of my come; and when my eyes cleared, I saw that David had found another resting place for his prick.
Gorgeous Belinda, my darling of darlings, was lying on her tummy while David slammed her from behind. She had her ass up in the air, doggy-style, and her sweet voice begged him to fuck her harder, faster. Oh, she was too much! And so was he!
The peak of my come began to ebb, and I didn’t want that to happen. I slid towards them, and I shoved my cunt into Belinda’s face.
“Eat me again,” I pleaded, “while he screws you!”
She didn’t have to be asked twice. Her mouth fastened upon my bloody, wet snatch and she began to show me once more what cunt-eating was all about. Her mouth was a musical instrument. She should have been in a concert orchestra. I could see Leonard Bernstein waving his baton as an indication for Belinda to start munching a juicy, fuzz-downed pussy, just the way she was munching mine right now. I jammed my box into her face and gave her full rein.
She was a girl who could do two things at the same time. She could be fucked and give marvelous head simultaneously. Oh, the next time they revised the dictionaries, I had a perfect, one word definition far “honey”. It was spelled B-E-L-I-ND-A, just as she had it spelled on the bosom of the shirt she’d worn today.
Her hands kept me spread wide and her tongue flailed on my labes and button. I wanted to open even wider, to drag her head inside me. Belinda was a passable hand with watercolors, but her cunt-lapping technique was pure artistry.
She was better for me now than she had been while we were alone, earlier this afternoon. I suppose it was David’s presence. They had a good thing going, those two, and I hope that someday I can find a guy who shares my open mind and can make a good thing for me and him. If I do, the two of us will spend a lot of time with the two of them.
David’s face was getting tense as he screwed Belinda from the rear, and I wondered how near he was to coming. Me, I had scarcely stopped since he fucked me. And now Belinda was making my orgasm stretch on indefinitely with those tongue swipes on my trigger and the plunges into my rippling, churning hole. I hoped it would be this good when she exploded, too, and from the way she moaned while she ate me, I knew she was going to have a release definitely worth writing home about.
It came. David shoved his cock all the way into her cunt and he grabbed her ass with both hands. Belinda rocked and rolled against him, her mouth going absolutely wild on me, and the cream I was having boiled over the edges of the pot.
She raised her face from my gash and she yelled in joy, and then she seemed to collapse onto the bed, unable to do another fucking thing except moan and writhe.
David pulled his hard cock out of her hole and it jiggled in the air as he surveyed his kingdom. Two orgasmic women, both of them transported to realms of gold and silver. He put his hand on his dick, and I thought he was on the point of jacking himself off. But not at all!
He moved towards me, faster than I’d ever guessed a horny man could move, and he shoooovvvveeeeeddd that big dong of his up my wet slice. Scream was all I could do, scream and wrap my legs around him.
When he pushed his prick into me, it was like being fucked by a telephone pole. My cunt was alive with sensation and I was sopping wet inside. I sucked him up my quivering hole and I held him there, so firmly he had to fight his way back out for a fresh fucking stroke. But it was worth the fight. I knew that from the way it felt when he gave it to me, as well as from the sigh he made when he did it. His cock seemed enormous now, swollen far beyond his normal length and thickness, or maybe it was just the heightened sensitivity of my pussy.
Belinda’s moaning face lay just beyond the edge of my thigh, and I could see that she wanted to be with us, but she couldn’t. Her orgasm was too intense to let her move even so short a distance. All she could manage was to lie on her stomach crying and whimpering. I touched her head while David fucked me, and my hand slid across her sweating face until her mouth trapped my fingers and she sucked them as if they were five separate cocks inserted at once.
If there were a contest for stud of the century, David Rodgers would have to be my own endorsed candidate. I could imagine how it would be to fuck Mick Jagger or Warren Beatty or Elton John, but I know what it’s like to be screwed my David’s fuck tool, and no fantasized celebrity hump could halfway compare. Once again I wondered how his wife could endure the thought of his pecker being inside another woman for even a second. If he were mine, I’d keep him locked up in a room, letting him out only when I was horny, and if he were mine, I’d be horny all the fucking time.
His pole explored me. It reamed me. Most of all, it fucked me. If a woman needs any more than that, I must have missed a sex-ed lecture somewhere along the line. Lilly was gonna have to live with this. I mean, she could have me whenever it was convenient for both of us, and I’d be delighted to oblige her, but to give up hetero fucking, now that I’d found out what it was all about? Not on your life! The lesbian life had just lost a would-be convert.
He couldn’t last forever, I was certain, but it seemed like forever that he fucked me. And all the while Belinda’s moaning lips were so close I could have touched them with my hand. But I didn’t want to. Both my hands were engaged in touching David’s body as he screwed me.
“Now,” he groaned, and he jerked his cock from my reluctant slit. I screamed when he pulled it out of my cunt, and I called him an inconsiderate son of a bitch, but I watched all the same as he wrapped his hand around his pole and started to shuck it.
Just like a porno actor, I thought, as his jizz began to spray upon me, and I wondered why he hadn’t left his dick in me. That was what I hated about sex movies. The guys always had to pull it out and jerk it off so the cretins in the back row could be assured they’d seen a real sex act performed for their benefit.
David’s peter began to spit out a fresh load of cum. It flew onto me in hot, heavy spurts that splattered on my belly and tits, and then he turned away, still handling his peter. He hadn’t finished squirting. More of his cum blew from the slitted tip of his dick, and that precious more took Belinda square in his face. She lifted her head, mouth open, and I could see that he was aiming for her parted lips. Glob after glob flew between them, and she moaned to take it.
My own orgasm hadn’t exactly let up, and I could only twist and writhe in delight as I watched David jack himself to completion. His cum flew everywhere, some of it upon Belinda, the rest upon me. He seemed to have a never-ending supply stored away in his balls.
We came together, the two females in this party and we drank David’s sperm from mouth to mouth and back again. Belinda’s mouth was redolent with jism, and so was mine once I’d kissed her. And then David was lying with us, his mouth touching ours, the sticky cream flowing from one to the other, our bodies melting together in a pile that truly made the three of us one.
A long time afterward, an eternity of eternities, I lifted my head and said, “Jesus, I’d better call my aunt and tell her I’ll be a little bit late this evening. That is, if the two of you think you can maybe go another round.”
I went out into the hall to call Aunt Sue, and Belinda and David followed me. They must have thought it funny as hell to play with me while I talked on the phone. But I almost lost control of my voice when Belinda stuck her head between my legs and started licking my pussy and David spread the cheeks of my ass and used his lips and tongue there. I was standing on tiptoes, my tits heaving and sweat beading on my nipples, as I explained to Aunt Susan that I’d be late getting home and she shouldn’t wait supper on me.
She ahhed, but she didn’t sound exactly disappointed. Lee had come out to visit and she was probably just as happy not to have me around. I could still remember the dirty look she’d thrown me when I carelessly slung my arm around his shoulders this afternoon at the library. Well, she could have him. If she could get him at all, which I doubted very much. Maybe I’d give her a few lessons in man-catching before I went home at the end of the month. Gods, what good would it do? Aunt Sue couldn’t catch a man with a net and a tranquilizer gun.
We said our good-byes and I put the receiver down and I let my newfound friends have their will of me. They carried me back into the bedroom and stretched me out on the messed-up, cummed-up bed, and Belinda sat down owl my face while David got his mouth onto my cunt.
He seemed to have no more inhibitions about my period than his wife did, and I was grateful. His tongue moved masterfully in my slit and the territory surrounding, and I felt one tiny come after another whirling through my body. At the same time I gobbled mouthful upon mouthful of Belinda’s dripping gash, and I don’t mind confessing that I sorely abused her bitable cunt with my lips and my teeth and my fingers. She loved it, God bless her, loved it as much as I loved doing it.
It was that way half the night. We stopped for food and drinks a bit later, and Belinda brought out her stash, offering me my choice of pass, coke, and hides. Chemicals aren’t my scene, so I opted for a fat joint which I puffed down to a roach, pretending all the while that it was David’s fatter, puffier joint on which I sucked.
Before long I’d made the substitution and my head moved in slow, leisurely oral love on that precise instrument. I held his nuts in my hand and I squeezed them provocatively as I sucked, and sometimes I squeezed too hard, causing David to lance upward into the region of my gullet, but he did it so adorably I didn’t care. Instead of freezing up and getting pissed, the way I’d done with Alan this afternoon, I tried to open, myself for him. If I could have deep-throated him, I’d have done it, but I guess I’m not built that way. Or else — it’s a goal to work toward.
Belinda was anointing the lips of her shaven pink cunt with powdery cocaine. She made ecstatic sounds as she rubbed the stuff into her skin, and she told me between sighs that it was a turn-on like I wouldn’t believe. I still didn’t want to try it myself, but I didn’t think of that when I dipped in to give her a licking.
David’s cock was out of my mouth by then, and in Belinda’s, and she gobbled his tool while I tongued her twat. Some of that coke clung to me and I felt my entire mouth go numb while a zesty cool feeling turned on inside my head. It was like having an internal air-conditioner, and my eyes wobbled for a second. After I’d tongue-lashed her to a drippy little come, I reached for the coke and took a couple of sniffs. Talk about turned-on! I felt cold all over and hot all over, and my body seemed lighter than air, and I started to purr in an easy cooing voice. There’s no way to describe how pleased with myself I was then. I lay back and hugged myself, and I just writhed there on the bed, my eyes shut, my lips tickled into a permanent smile. My hands cupped my tits as I sighed and stretched, and I found myself using a finger to divide the mat of my pussy hair in search of the gash within.
Oh, I found it, all right! I jabbed myself impetuously while David and Belinda watched from the side, and it was almost as if I were putting on a show for their benefit. I masturbated shamelessly, inventing new tricks and fillips on the spot, until the girl-cum poured from me and my hands were aromatic with it.
Belinda sat on her heels and I planted myself on her lap, my legs thrown around her and my cunt spread wide open. My tits bumped hers and our nipples scraped in friction, and we were both fighting to see which of us could take the lead in kissing the other. David crouched behind us, one of his hands massaging my gash, the other feeling up hers, and he was fingering me in both of my holes and I was grooving on it.
He touched my asshole with his fingertip a moment later, and I felt the telltale tingling of cocaine as he doctored my shitter. He did such a nice, thorough job that when he replaced his finger with the knob of his big cock, I scarcely felt it at all. I was really into it, you know and my sphincter didn’t fight him for a second. It yielded freely and he was pushing his dick up my bunghole with slow, precise strokes.
I’d been screwed in the ass a few times before. Not very many, and only when some guy made a big deal of it. Ass-fucking wasn’t one of my favorites. It hurt, and it was uncomfortable, and I couldn’t begin to guess why anybody even bothered. Now, though, as David corn-holed me so lovingly, I started to understand. The boys who’d done ft to me were so inadequate, in retrospect. Belinda had been right, God love her — I’d spent too much of my sexual past fucking around with boys. No wonder I’d been ready to part with the prick forever and amen. How could any boy compare with the man who was inside me right now?
He gripped me by waist and shoulders while Belinda caressed my tits and nibbled my chin, and he moved his meat in my brownie with the dreamiest, lingering strokes and plunges. I lifted up each time he plumbed me deepest, and I let myself drop down upon his still upraised prick to make it go even deeper, and Belinda seemed to be soaking up the excitement that radiated from my body and David’s.
The cocaine on my asshole couldn’t anesthetize me forever, and its effect wore off gradually. Now I could feel every thick inch of his cock as it spread my tender muscle, but I didn’t cry out in pain or panic. It was the most sensually erotic moment of my life, I was dead certain. I twisted myself, wiggling from side to side in quick, rabbity movements, and the bigness of his rod made an impact on all the interior of my body.
Belinda squeezed my tits in her soft golden hands, and the nipples stuck out pink and thrust between her fingers. She pinched my teats with her fingers, spreading and closing them quickly, and my nips ached and throbbed in response. Her face moved close and she began to lick the extensions of my boobs with fast butterfly tongue strokes. And as she did it, I rocked back and forth where I was splayed on her lap, rocking to deepen the penetrations of her husband’s prick.
Time no longer had any meaning. I didn’t have the slightest idea of how long the three of us had been here making love. It didn’t seem important. It had been forever and it would be forever. How many times had I climaxed? Belinda? And what about David? Had his cock ever gone soft since Belinda’s mouth brought it to quivering erection? I couldn’t remember. It seemed that every time I turned around he was gripping his cock and guiding it into someone’s mouth or pussy or wherever. Once — when he’d put Belinda on her back, then straddled her chest and shucked his prick back and forth between her rosy-capped tits until his cum squirted into her face in big sticky gobs. He must have his nuts on overtime, I thought as he continued to ass-fuck me. At least a gallon of his creamy goo had spilled onto and into me and Belinda, and still his rod rose up in fierce pride to burrow its way into yet another sexual union.
I wondered if Belinda would consider selling him to me. I’d have given her anything. This was what Lilly needed, too, I reminded myself. A man. Not a boy, but a man. She needed to find out how great, how absolutely perfect it could be to make love and sex with a partner worthy of her sweet, charms.
She’d forget her lesbian intentions in a minute.
One of David’s hands stole into my gash as he bunged me, and I felt it squishing in my cummy, bloody depths. He tweaked my nubbin with his clever fingers and I went all oozy and whiny where I squatted. Belinda took her hands off my tile and stuck the end of one breast into her mouth for some heavy sucking, and shoved my tit towards her while I thrust my ass in David’s direction, and before I knew it, it was all over.
For me, at least, I flew up the golden stairs, into the arms of a come that left me gasping for breath I couldn’t seem to capture, and if the two of them hadn’t been holding me, I think I’d have sprouted wings and gone straight out the bedroom window. But Belinda’s mouth was a firm anchor for my right tit, her hand gripping the other one furiously, arid David began to move his cock in strokes that were much less gentle than the ones just passed.
He gave it to me hard and hot now, slamming his groin against the curve of my ass, and I could only throb and wiggle as he rammed me. I was so far gone I couldn’t even feel the first gush of his cum when it flew from the end of his rod.
I could detect a sopping wetness in my asshole, and his cock seemed to be moving easier as it pumped short strokes, and it must have occurred to whatever remained of my conscious understanding that David was unloading his balls.
Both of them had a finger in my pie. It was almost as if I were being fucked front and back simultaneously, and it was out of sight. I humped and throbbed and moaned and cried and begged them not to stop, and they didn’t, not for a long, long time, but even the best of sex can’t last forever, more’s the pity.
So it was with us. When David’s cock left my asshole, it was limp and I was thankful, in a way. I didn’t have the power to do it again. Oh, I had the will, and I had the desire, but my body just wouldn’t respond. I was fucked flat, and so, I’m proud to say, were my new friends. My good friends. My best of friends. We lay side by side, our bodies recuperating, and we didn’t have to talk or touch. We were as close to being one soul as three people can ever be.
It was after ten that evening when we finally got up. My shorts and pants and top were washed and dried by now, and it was only fit that I should do the same for my body. So much as I hated to wash myself clean of the cum and love that had spurted on me and from me, I made my way to the bathroom and adjusted the shower to my temperature.
Belinda wanted to bathe, too, and she pointed out that it was more economical to shower with a friend, so I gladly stepped aside and made room for her. Once she got in, though, she couldn’t resist trying once more the erotic delights of tickling her shaven pubes on my hairy bush, and we started girl-fucking as we stood, bumping our cunts and grinding them together.
It was cute and fun, and it was even more fun when she showed me a little trick she’d invented. Her tits were delightfully full, and by twisting her head and lifting her tit in just a certain way, she was able to use her tongue an her own nipple, to suck the little pink tab to glisteny stiffness. What a lovely idea! I tried it, too, and though my neck felt as if it were about to break, I found that I could do it nearly as well as she could. Happily, I sucked my nipple, scraping it with my teeth, watching Belinda do the same. It must have occurred to both of us at the same time that if it was fun this way, it was more fun when she suckled mine and I nursed hers. So we were in one another’s arms, fingering, sucking, kissing, making so much noise at it that David came into the bathroom to see what was wrong.
Nothing was wrong. He hopped into the shower as soon as he saw what we were up to, and it was Belinda on her knees, grabbing his cock, sucking it fiercely while the water poured warmly upon her head, and then it was me shoving her out of the way so I could do it. And last of all it was David standing us both up against the inner wall of the shower and screwing us in swing-shift operation. First I got five or six long gliding strokes of his dong, and then Belinda got her turn, and then I was up to bat again. Insanity, but I wouldn’t have sold my place for a million dollars, then or ever.
Our bodies were slick and soapy. He couldn’t hold onto them because we were too wiggly for him, and we rocked in crazy sex. Belinda moaned and came as she felt David unload inside her. I bit my lip in envy, but it only lasted a second, because he jerked his rod out of her shuddering snatch and rammed it up mine, still squirting his creamy jizz. It boiled and oozed in my cunny and I came, too. And then it was all over. For that night, at least. We finished washing, sharing our shower stall in chastity, and we dressed, and David and Belinda drove me home, to Aunt Sue’s.
The house lights were off so they dropped me at the road and sped away, back to Athens. I had a key for the back door but not for the front, so I started around the edge of the house to let myself in. By some quirk in my nature I tend to incline right when I’m walking. I didn’t even think about walking left around the house, and I certainly didn’t think about Aunt Sue’s bedroom being on this side.
However, I couldn’t help noticing as I neared it that a light shone into the night from her window, and I suppose there’s a streak of curiosity in me. My head instinctively turned towards the open window as I passed it, and everything else was preordained.
Aunt Sue was on the far side of the room, looking at herself in her vanity mirror. That wasn’t so unusual I do it all the time. Most women keep an eye on their appearance, whenever a minor is handy. It’s nature. What stopped me in my tracks and kept me looking like a bonafide peeping Tom was the fact that Aunt Susan was totally naked.
I was outside in the dark; she couldn’t see me. But I could sure as hell see her, and it was like I was seeing her for the first time. Those baggy pants and sweat shirts she affected had left me with the vague impression she must be kinda fat and dumpy, body wise. She wasn’t. Not at all.
Aunt Susan was really very slim, her ass small, handsized, her legs good if not great. She reminded me of a fashion model, and her skin was very pale, as if she hadn’t let the sun kiss it for a long time. I don’t know what kept her from appearing sallow, unless it was a natural creaminess of flesh.
Her hair was bunned up, hot very attractively, and its mousy color detracted from the smooth white of her skin. She stared at herself in the mirror and she was cupping her tits in her hands, so fiercely that I couldn’t see their reflection in the polished glass for the covering of her palms. Aunt Susan turned abruptly, her hands falling to her sides, and now I saw that her tits were not bad either. They were fist-sized lumps, high set and nicely separated, with tiny nipples the color of ripe cherries, and they appeared to be exquisitely firm. And between her legs she had a small, dainty triangle of chestnut pussy fur, a puff of foliage at the apex of her white thighs.
She walked past the window through which I looked, and she threw herself onto the bed face up. I shifted so I could get a look at her, and I saw her knees go up and one of her hands come to rest upon that chestnut-thatched pussy of hers. She clutched it with a sigh and she began to squeeze the sensitive region as if in desperation.
I couldn’t believe it. Not only did Aunt Sue have a body underneath those dingy clothes she always wore, she was also apparently about to treat that body to a bit of extracurricular masturbation. Wrong. She was masturbating herself, using one hand on her pussy, the other on her tits, and she shook and sighed as she did it, occasionally speaking to herself in a low, husky voice that was hard to hear above the creaking of bedsprings.
Part of me wanted to go away and leave her in her privacy, and part of me was almost compulsively voyeuristic. The voyeur conquered, and I leaned closer to the open window frame.
After the workout I’d enjoyed this evening, there couldn’t be a particle of unsatisfied lust left inside me. But Aunt Susan was so nice looking — her slim, understated body reminded me of darling Lilly and as I watched her attempts to bring herself a kind of release, I felt a warm smoldering fire begin to burn in my own cunt.
Part of it was due to the words she spoke as she fondled her shaking body. If it were me doing it, I’d tell you what they were, but Aunt Susan was talking, and I really shouldn’t have been eavesdropping. Suffice it to say that she was carrying on a one-sided conversation with her handsome friend Lee Kinloch. She was calling to him in words of love and asking him to do some rather frisky things to her body, and I knew as I listened that I’d been right. She really did have a case for the gentleman. And obviously she didn’t know how to begin getting him. It was so pathetic, so hopeless, that my heart leaped right out of my chest and bounced through the window making for Aunt Susan’s bed and what choice did I have but to follow it?
She sat up in panic as I climbed through the window frame, and her face was white as a bleached skull. I smiled to disarm her fears and in a sec I was on the bed, holding her in my arms while she sobbed onto my halter front.
I stroked her as she clung to me, and her skin was smooth as velvet to my fingertips. Her tits rubbed one of my arms with their heated-up nipples, small but very stiff, and I didn’t care if she was my aunt. I leaned back, tilted her face towards mine, and kissed her on the mouth the way a lover kisses a loved one.
Aunt Susan stiffened, as if she weren’t sure how to respond. I kissed her passionately, my excitement growing with each moment our lips held together. The smolder in my cunt had become a hot little blaze.
“Lie down,” I said. “No girl should ever have to get herself off alone.”
Such a fragile, delicate body she had! The breasts were just the right size for my hands to cup, and they were every bit as firm as I’d suspected. I squeezed, feeling them harden in my grasp, and Aunt Susan moaned in bemused delight.
I kissed my way down her neck, out each shoulder, and finally onto the sweet curves of her tits. She smelled good, clean, and her nipples had not only the look of cherries — I could almost imagine that they tasted of those pretty fruits as well. Her tips were small but stiff, and my lips pulled them even stiffer. At the same time I put a hand on her tummy, rubbing her in circles round her navel, circles that widened with a view towards exploring her pussy hair as well.
My fingers brushed her cunny fur, found it crackling stiff with electrical sexuality, and with some reluctance I made my lips desert her tits. Aunt Susan was saying “Pam, please,” but I didn’t care to know if her plea was for stopping or continuing, it wouldn’t have mattered.
Her nipples were afire, but the rest of her felt cold as death, a smooth pale body that chilled me by its touch. But I wasn’t cold. My blood pounded through me, and my body temperature was rising by the instant. I cuddled her, stroking everywhere I could reach, and I felt her grow warmer with my nearness.
My hand attacked her slit, where it nestled shyly inside her small, neat triangle. She was sealed tightly — sure sign that her pussy didn’t get many workouts — and I had to pry with my finger to get inside. Aunt Sue wailed when I did it, and her cunt was dry as a bone. Didn’t she even know how to jiggle herself to a creamy lusciousness? I felt so sorry for the poor woman. I wanted to help her, to teach her.
She was uncomfortable when I held her gash apart with both hands and she mumbled in protest when I let my tongue move inside her portals. Talk about portals! Aunt Sue had the moat delicate, precious pussy I had ever seen. The hair on her cunt-mound concealed the little goodie-box within, but when I spread it for business, I could see that she was possessed of a lovely coral-tinted cunt, its plumbing neatly hidden within the slitted opening.
I envied her that neatness. My own inner labes tend to protrude slightly, and I can’t help worrying that by the time I’m thirty I’ll have flaps dangling to my knees or something equally gross. Aunt Susan was past thirty and she had no apparent problem — except for her dryness.
I licked her cunt, I kissed it, I dived with my tongue and stalked her elusive clitoris, and her twat finally began to get damp. This wouldn’t do at all, though. I summoned my saliva and dropped a big frothy bubble of spit into her cunt, immediately working it around and around with the tip of my tongue to lubricate her snatch more thoroughly.
It worked. As it mouth-greased her cunny, I could feel, on the tip of my tongue, a gathering fragrance of Susan’s inner-cunt juice at last flowing out to meet my spit on neutral ground. And my tongue work had caused her cunt finally to peek out of its hooded shelter.
It was a handsome clitoris, as red as her cherry nipples, and slim and rather long, just like its owner’s body. I touched it with my tongue and Aunt Susan jerked where I held her. My hand flew up to her tit for a comforting cuddle, and she covered my hand with her own to hold me there. I squeezed her tit and she squeezed my hand, and her heart fluttered behind her breast like a frightened little bird. She wasn’t speaking now, though, and the only sounds that left her lips were alternating sighs and groans, the latter strongest and most protracted when I made renewed oral attacks on her passion nubbin.
Aunt Susan’s cunt was so tight it amazed me. I wondered if she had ever been fucked, but my tongue could move into her hole without any impediment, so she was at the very least cherryless. Lots of girls break their hymens in off-the-job accidents, though, so it was no proof of anything. We could talk about it. Later.
I was like a woman possessed. The only thing that counted to me was doing a number on Aunt Susan’s pussy and giving her a climax to remember for years to come. And, you know, the funny thing was that the harder I licked her gash the more aroused I became, too. I had my hand on her titty and she was holding that hand in place, but otherwise she wasn’t providing me with any stimulation at all. And the crotch of my shorts was sopping wet, even with a borrowed tampon firmly inserted, and I could hear a squishing whenever my legs came together. It was a toss-up whether I could make Aunt Susan come before I exploded myself.
She moved her thighs as I lapped in her slit, moved them farther apart, and the slice of her cunt opened a bit more for my convenience. She seemed nervous, too, her thighs shaking as my tits rubbed them, but I couldn’t blame her for being that way. It must have been a shock to be discovered in diddling by a visiting niece and promptly seduced, I suppose. It was a shock for me, too, when I realized that a perfectly adequate body had been hiding inside Aunt Susan’s chintzy clothes all this time.
Physically she reminded me of Lilly, but Lilly’s wispy cuteness was a far cry from Aunt Susan. Sue was tall and lean, like a clothes horse, and if only her face hadn’t been so plain, she’d have had no need to lie alone in bed clutching her pussy on a warm summer’s night. She should show off that body, Goddamn it! Plenty of people would be turned on by it, turned on enough to overlook the lack of raving beauty in her face. I was turned on, wasn’t I? Don’t I have at least some taste?
We’d discuss it. I’d bring her out of her shell. But first I had a job to do.
I lifted my head from her gash and skinned out of my halter. Thank God I was braless underneath. My nipples were long points of sensitivity, and I twiddled them with my hand, watching them get even longer, feeling them get even more sensitive. Then I knelt into my work again, rubbing my book on Aunt Susan’s cunt. I slid each nipple up and down her gash, inserting each of them in turn into the glistening lushness of her pussy. It was a curious feeling. Belinda had done this to me a couple of times during the evening just past, and it was aroused me in a dreamy kind of way. Her nipples were long, like mine, and they wiggled inside me like tiny cocks. But the sensation of receiving a vaginal-nipple penetration couldn’t compare with the delight of giving it. Susan’s pussy seemed a tight, sucking mouth that wanted to gobble up my paps, and we bumped together joyously, each of us giggling and purring in our pleasure shared.
It could only go on for so long, though, until my mouth began to water for the pussy milk that flowed in ever-greater abundance, and I removed my tits from the field of battle and replaced them with my hungry, sucking mouth.
This time I didn’t fuck around. I wanted to eat her cunt out, and I ate her cunt out, by God! I used my mouth and my fingers in sly conjunctions, prodding her with my middle finger while my tongue danced a jig on her supersensitive trigger, and before I knew she was doing it, Aunt Susan popped her cookies right into my face. She dripped, she oozed, she exuded a wet cunty aroma that tickled my lips and nostrils. It lingered on my lapping tongue, on my smacking mouth, and I had only to give my thighs a tiny squeezing pressure before I was gasping and moaning my own release into her splayed, churning hole and we lay writhing in a shared orgasm.
“Wasn’t that better than doing it to yourself?” I asked her later, as we lay holding hands. She was naked, I was topless, and two of her fingers trailed now and then across the relaxed contours of my tits.
“I’ve never done anything like that before,” she sighed. “No one has ever made me feel the way you made me feel.” She kissed my cheek. “Pamela, I don’t know how…”
“Oh, come off it,” I grinned. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Aunt Sue. You’ve led a pretty wild life. I didn’t snoop, but I did happen to find your stash of porno books the other day. You know — the one about the girl and the gorilla. What was the name of it? SLUT FOR ALL SEASONS? No, it was O BEASTLY LUST. You must have been a real hell-raiser a few years ago.”
She gave me a wry smile, a bitter smile, and it wrenched my heart to see it. “So my secret’s out. The books, I meant. Oh, it won’t hurt to tell you, Pam. You might understand.”
She cleared her throat and her eyes left mine, as if she couldn’t quite bear to look at me while she confessed. I was primed to hear some spicy stuff, but that wasn’t to be.
“I was always an ugly girl, very shy, very withdrawn, and it didn’t get better. I never had a date till I was twenty-three, Pam. In graduate school. I’d given up on life and love long since. Until a boy took an interest in me. It surprised the hell out of me, Pam, and I was walking on air. He was sweet, and we dated and talked, and finally I decided he really did care. For me. Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous?”
“So one evening I agreed to-to have sex with him. It was horrible. I bled, I screamed, I cried. He just laughed. Wondered if I mightn’t suck his — because I was so terrible at the other thing, you know?” She struggled to compose herself. “He told me later that I’d stirred his curiosity, that dorm gossip said shy, quiet girls were better in bed, that they became real tigresses once they’d been laid out and opened up. It wasn’t true, he said. I was a rotten lay, and either frigid or a latent lesbian. I never saw him again. The books. Well. I wrote them to get it out of my system. They were all about women abused and raped and ravaged, by Negroes, by whole platoons of Army men. I hope you don’t read any more of them. I try not to think about them now.”
She smiled bravely. “I suppose he was right. I suppose I really was a latent lesbian. When you kissed me, touched me…”
I’d been through this myself and had no intention of letting Aunt Sue get any gay bees in her bonnet. “Lee Kinloch?”
She got misty-eyed, and she collapsed against me. “Lee. I think I love him, Pam. Days I don’t see him I’m not fit to live with. I dream about him every night. But what chance do I have? Look at me, for Christ’s sake! I’m ugly…”
“Has he ever given any indication that he might be interested in you? Or are you just a bull-session buddy for him?”
“Oh, he’s asked me to go out with him a few times. I always put him off. Just this evening he was telling me that tomorrow they’re showing Top Hat and Shall We Dance at the university, and later some friends of his are having a party — but I told him I couldn’t, that you weren’t feeling well — I was afraid…”
“Maybe,” I said. “Sit up straight, Aunt Susan.” She did, and I took away her glasses and undid her bunned hair. You know, she wasn’t half bad looking from the right angles. And right now she looked appealingly vulnerable, not at all the cool, collected Aunt Sue I’d met Saturday. Makeup was what she needed. And a rinse for the hair. The right clothes.
“Since you used me as an excuse, I’ll call him and tell him you’re free after all, if he’s still interested. Don’t say another word, Aunt Susan! If you want that man, I think I can get him for you. But you’ll have to help, too.”
“No, it’s ridiculous. It won’t work. He couldn’t want me. You’ll ruin everything.”
“He’s intelligent, and he’s sexy. He already likes your mind. We just have to remind him that a body goes with it. He’ll do the rest. Is his number in the book? Good. Oh, and I’ll need the car first thing in the morning. We have all day to fix you up, and we can’t waste any of it.”
Aunt Susan dolled up was even better than I’d hoped for. Her hair was treated with a chestnutty rinse, so that it matched the darker curls on her pubes, and the color went well with her pale skin. I put it up for her, with ringlets hanging down in sensuous curls on her cheeks, and, with the stunning makeup job I did on her face, she looked incredible, like a different person. She was glamorous and quite provocative — she’d never be a beauty, in the everyday sense, but her new look was striking, but striking faces jump out of any crowd.
She was aghast to see the party dress I’d brought her from town, but she put it on anyway, and I couldn’t tear her away from the mirror. It was a beige tone, low in front and almost backless, held up with thin straps, and its long skirt clung to her long legs. The skirt fit well enough that the outlines of her garters could be seen, not to mention the absence of a panty impression. All she wore underneath her new dress were pale violet stockings held up by lacy ribbon garters and a few dabs of perfume in strategic places. The bodice was clingy, too, and it showed off her apple-sized tits and the smooth separation between them. In a very short time she learned to love herself in it.
Lee liked it, too. When she came out to meet him that evening, he stood up and there was wonderment in his eyes. He hadn’t been expecting this from Aunt Susan, and he wouldn’t have gotten it if it hadn’t been for my insistence. She seemed fifteen years younger as she went out the door with him, holding his arm because I’d made her leave off her glasses for the night and she was blind as a bat without them. So much the better. It gave her eyes a faraway look that always caught men where they lived.
I waited up for them, sitting in the dark at the top of the stairs, and they didn’t come in till well after three. Aunt Susan’s laughter echoed before she got the front door open and she stumbled as she came inside. Her cheeks were flushed and she acted half-stoned. Lee caught her elbow and she eased back against him in a totally natural gesture.
“That was some evening,” she sighed. “I’m sorry it’s over. Don’t go yet. Stay and have a last drink. Okay?”
“You don’t need any more, do you, Sue?” he smiled, and she flushed prettily.
“I don’t think so,” she confessed. “You sit down and I’ll try to find the bar.”
She brought a tail drink for him and a Coke for herself, and she joined him on the sofa. Aunt Sue was still tense, in spite of the practice and preparation I’d given her, and there was at least a six-inch gap between their hips on the couch.
“I must have been terribly funny,” she said, suddenly serious. “I drank too much and I talked too much. Your friends are probably laughing at me right now.”
Lee put down his drink and slid closer, his hip brushing hers. “Of course they’re not,” he assured her. “In fact, Dave and Gwen both told me that I’d not be welcome in the future unless I brought you along with me. They liked you. Everyone liked you. Lord, Susan, I was afraid you’d sit in a corner all night, but…”
She interrupted him with a wave of her hand. “Lee, do you like the way I look tonight?”
“I think you’re beautiful. You take my breath away, Sue. It’s like I’m seeing you for the first time. You’re a butterfly who’s finally come out of the cocoon, and what a lovely unveiling! I’m glad you decided to be a woman. I’ve been hoping for a long time that you would.”
“Really?” she said sadly. “I didn’t think you cared.”
His reply was to bring his face to hers and plant a kiss smack upon her startled lips. From my perch atop the stairs I could see the whole thing, and my clitty throbbed when Lee’s mouth touched hers. God, I prayed, give her courage! She could still get cold feet and blow the whole deal.
Aunt Susan twitched as the kiss endured, and I thought she was going to, writhe away from him, but she didn’t. Instead — God love her! She picked up one of his hands and guided it to her left breast. I could see the indecision in her body movements, and I sighed when she fitted his palm around her firm boob.
Lee took over as soon as he’d been positioned. His hand began to squeeze and cup, and Aunt Susan started to bob with his variations in pressure. It wasn’t a big breast, not like mine or Belinda’s, but it was a titty made for perfect adherence to the palm of a hand and finally it was getting the use for which it had been designed.
They kissed so long I thought Aunt Susan would turn blue and faint, but she didn’t. Her face was red when Lee’s lips slid away, but she was smiling, too. “Thank you,” she said.
“Don’t thank me,” he shrugged. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time. Tonight seemed to be just right.”
“Do you like me?” she asked. “Really like me?” He nodded, sincerity evident on his face. “Then Lee will you take me to bed? Now? And love me?”
“What if we wake Pam?” he asked.
“She’s spending the night in town, with some friends,” Aunt Susan said, and that’s where I’d told her I would be. “So [missing text].”
“So I’d be honored,” he replied, “and delighted, too.”
Hot damn! I thought in glee as he took her hand and led her around the foot of the stairs towards her bedroom. It was all I could do to keep from running down right now to follow the course of the action. But that would have been too hasty. I was going to watch — of course I was but I had to be careful.
The bedroom door was open and I slunk into the shadowy hall to watch Aunt Susan kissing Lee with her mouth open while she unbuttoned his shirt and unbelted his trousers. Good girl! I cheered silently. Keep on, now!
When he was bare to the waist, she knelt before him and helped him out of his trousers. Lips set she took hold of his shorts and pulled them down slowly, just far enough to let his cock flop free. His tool was beautiful, but I wondered if it might not be just a bit too big for Aunt Susan. After all, her hole had been dry for ten years. Well, feast or famine!
She took his prick in her hands, and I could see her fingers tremble. It must have been, for Lee, similar to getting a vibrator treatment. His cock began to harden in her loose grip and it erected rapidly towards her pale face. Aunt Susan jerked back and let go of it, but his cock kept on stiffening even without her assistance. Big, I thought. A real pussy-stretcher.
“Sue,” he told her, and he pulled her upright. She didn’t resist when he slid the shoulder straps of her dress down, but she didn’t move either, and that was a bad sign, I feared. Lee worked the party gown to her waist and then bent in to kiss and mouth the cherry red tips of her little titties. She moved then, cradling his head in her arms, but there was panic in her face.
Don’t chicken out now, Aunt Susan! I radioed to her mind. It’s what you’ve wanted. Take it, for God’s sake!
He got her undressed, and his eyes widened at the sight of her slim, well-shaped nudity, and he put her on the bed, joining her as soon as he’d gotten his shorts off, and he rolled against her. Their bodies touched and broke away and then touched again, and he put his leg between Aunt Susan’s, that big rod sticking up from his groin like a red tomahawk. Why didn’t she touch it? Why didn’t she grab his prick in her hands and start playing with it? He was doing nice things with his mouth, to her face and her tits and her shoulders and her tummy. Reciprocate!
Naked, Lee was even more attractive then I’d found him before. He had the build of a pro running back and, if his head was just a bit hairier than I go for, it wouldn’t be that important in the long run. I almost wished it was me on the bed with him. I’d know what to do. I wouldn’t lie there like a stick while he fondled and kissed me. I’d be grabbing his cock and angling my head towards it, making sucking, gobbling noises all the while. But Aunt Susan wasn’t me, I’m afraid, and she wasn’t responding well at all.
I raised the hem of my nightie and slipped a hand inside. My linger pushed past the frilly panty leg and into the hairy thrust of my cunt. It felt so good not having a tampon inside me tonight — I’d finally dried up for another month — and my finger found a sensitive, receptive slit waiting. I pushed at the perky labs and they parted, swallowing my finger in a gluttonous muscular reaction.
Lee kissed his way down Aunt Sue’s body, obviously making for the powder puff of dark-brown hair which marked her cunt.
His hand outraced his mouth to the spot and he began to stroke her cunt-mound. Her fondled her gash carefully, his fingers lingering on her most sensitive parts, and his mouth hurried to join the foreplay in progress.
Her legs parted almost automatically as his head moved between them, and I could see Lee delicately spreading the supertight slice of her pussy so he could lick its velvety surfaces. His tongue moved deftly into Aunt Susan’s gash, and I could almost feel what he was doing to her, down where my finger twiddled in my own slice. He was performing perfectly. Why wasn’t she responding just as perfectly?
I heard her moan as his tonguing became more vivid and direct, and one special flutter in her voice told me that he had located her clit, that he was bathing it with his lips. Aunt Sue raised her head and shoulders from the bed and she looked down her stomach, her eyes blinking wildly, and her hand moved quickly to capture his cock. She wrapped her fingers around it, eyes enlarging as she took in its size, its hardness, it’s almost certain heated temperature, and she began to work her hand on his rod very slowly. Lee muttered something into her snatch as he ate it, and she mumbled an inaudible reply.
Her hand grew tighter on his cock and she began to jack him with longer, slightly faster strokes. I saw his hips move in reply, and he stepped up the pace of his cunt-licking. Aunt Susan’s eyes seemed to go all glazy then, and she eased herself down onto the bed. She still held his prick in her hand, but her jerking had slowed to a turtle’s crawl and I could see her stiff-nippled little mounds heaving convulsively. She gasped, a sudden starting sound, and it echoed in the air for a second, only to be joined and drowned by a succession of loud, despairing gasps. Her hand fell away from Lee’s cock. He was getting to her, I thought smugly. His tongue knew how to love a pussy as well as mine did. Give it to her, big boy! I thrust my finger all the way up my own cunt and humped silently where I squatted in the dark, watching.
“No,” Sue was saying. “Please, Lee, stop,” and she grabbed him by the shoulders in an effort to pull him from her gash.
I sat up in horror. What kind of shit was Aunt Susan pulling? Didn’t she knew that if she let him suck her off, she’d enjoy the ensuing fuck ten times as much? Hadn’t I told her that a thousand times today? Had she forgotten?
“What’s wrong, Susan?” Lee asked considerately.
She shook her head. “I-I don’t think I can go through with it. Please…”
“If that’s what you want.” He sat up.
NO! my head was screaming, and before I knew it, my mouth had joined the cry. Their faces jerked towards the open doorway as I stomped into the room. “NO!” I was still shouting.
“Pam…” Lee said, and Aunt Susan just went scarlet.
“No,” I repeated, more calmly. “Don’t listen to her. She wants it. She wants it more than she’s ever wanted anything else in her life. At least, that’s what she says. So get to it.”
“I can’t,” Aunt Susan whispered. “I’m afraid.”
“Of course you can,” I insisted. “Lee, back to work. You seem to be doing fine. Aunt Sue, you need same extra lessons and you can’t play hooky, because teacher is here.”
I flopped onto the bed, beelining for Lee’s hard dick.
I grabbed it and stuffed the tip of it into my mouth while he began once more to eat out Aunt Susan. The lady reclined beside me, staring wide-eyed as I gobbled on her lover’s tool, nibbling it to a degree of stiffness so irresistible I wanted to keep on eating. But it wasn’t my party.
“Here,” I said, offering it to her. “Put his cock in your mouth and suck it. You know how it’s done, don’t you?”
She shook her head but I grabbed her by the neck and jerked her close. Aunt Susan struggled but she couldn’t struggle much, because her cunt was pinned by Lee’s sipping mouth. I rubbed his cock back and forth on her lips until they parted just a hair, and then I let her feel his knob touching her teeth.
That was the deciding factor. Gingerly she opened her mouth and took the tip of his cock inside. “Suck it,” I repeated, making mouth motions to show her exactly what I meant. “It tastes delicious.”
Aunt Susan was reluctant, but his mouth was exciting her, and the fact tat she had already taken part of his tool must have been provocative, too. I pushed on the top of her head. She moved down, swallowing just a fraction more of his dick, and suddenly her jaws began to pooch inward and she was sucking it.
She was clumsy — it was the first time she’d ever sucked a cock — but she was obviously finding it not an unpleasant experience. Slowly her head moved again, allowing more of his cock to slip inside, and she sucked with even greater avidity, her interest heightening with her growing participation.
Aunt Susan made whiny sounds as she sucked, and I guessed that Lee’s mouth was bringing her close to a come of her own. Could she be trusted right now? Mightn’t she bite his cock in her climactic shudders? I tapped her on the cheek and told her to let his rod slide free for a moment.
Lee understood. I saw his head move faster in her gash, and he was using fingers on her cunt as well. Suddenly Aunt Susan’s twat bounced up into his face and she moaned and screamed as a red-hot burst of orgasm shuddered through her body. Good girl!
When she’d stopped yelling and gnashing her teeth, I pointed to the big red prick that Lee was sporting and I made a round-mouthed face at her. She nodded and she sucked his cock in once more.
Oh, she was damned good this time! She blew him like a professional — well, almost. There were crudities in her performance. Sometimes his rod almost slipped out of her, and sometimes she overestimated and took his cock far deeper than she could tolerate. But all in all, it was good. Good for both of them.
Lee turned himself while she sucked, and he put his hand on her cunny. Now she could really get at his dick, and Aunt Sue really got at it. He winced when her sucking became more furious, and he closed his eyes.
“Are you getting near?” I asked him, and he nodded happily.
I caught Aunt Sue’s attention and she met my eyes with her own. “He’s getting ready to come,” I explained. “In a few minutes you’re going to have a mouthful of sperm. Don’t be surprised. Swallow it, if you like the taste, and I think you’ll like the taste. Okay?”
It was less than a few minutes. I’d scarcely finished speaking when Lee made a low, rumbling sound in his chest and he grabbed Aunt Sue’s head with both hands. Oh, I thought, I wish it was my mouth about to receive a load of goodies!
But it wasn’t. It was Aunt Sue’s, and she took it like a lady. I heard her gulp and moan as the first blast hit her on the gullet, and I could see her throat working furiously to drink down his love gift. She sucked his rod with smacks and slurps and there was a thin trickle of surplus own running from the corners of her mouth, but I think she got most of a big load and got it in the right place.
It seemed to put her into a fresh orgasm of her own. She began to writhe and twist as she sucked up Lee’s cream, and I hurried around her. I stuck my head between her legs, where Lee’s had so recently been. Her labes were still wet from his drool and her pussy cream, and I sucked that avidly while my tongue induced her to dribble out some additional twat juice.
Her unit was the size of a pea now, eminently lickable, and I licked it, by God! I rimmed her gash with the tip of my tongue and I fucked her with my middle finger, wishing all the while that someone was here to take care of the itch between my own thighs. I needed some loving, too, and I needed more than a long-necked wine bottle!
Aunt Susan just kept sucking on his cock, long after the spurts of his seed had ceased, and when he finally pulled it from her by manly force, it was glistening and red. Little globs of cum still clung to his pole and I licked her cunt all the faster, imagining that I could taste the champagne of Lee’s cum on the tip of my tongue right now. Aunt Susan leaped into a shivering, wailing climax when my tongue and frigging fingers had gone to their limits, and I sat up between her thighs.
Lee was on his way to replace me. I got out of the battleground and he knelt where I had been. He rubbed his still-hard dick inside his fist, and then he touched it to the wet hairs of Aunt Sue’s crotch. Those pearly drops of his jism stuck to her pussy hair and I wished I were there now, licking them away. He jiggled his cock on the half-splayed lips of her snatch, and then he began to push his way inside.
My heart was in my throat, pumping two miles a minute, and it felt as if I had briars just inside the portals of my twat. When Lee had made a definite insertion and began to slide up Aunt Sue’s wet, greasy hole, I lifted the hem of my nightie and grabbed the crotch of my panties. I squeezed my twat, moaning as the wetness seeped from rue, dampening the nylon of my undies, and my finger slid into them once more, and into me.
Aunt Susan lifted her legs as Lee’s prods became more aggressive, and he had at least three inches of his cock in her cunt. Her hole was tight, in spite of the eating-out she’d received from both of us, and he had a hard time getting his big peter into her. But he didn’t rush things. He was a scholar and gentleman. Instead of just ramming her and playing belly-bump for his own satisfaction, he pushed his cock in slowly and carefully, giving Aunt Susan time to adjust to the twat spreading size of his tool.
She took it like the lady she was, too. As he got more of his cock inside, she lifted her knee, to make it easier for the both of them. Her hands went out to him, he caught them in his own, and then I saw Aunt Susan begin to pull herself onto his prick. She was ready. It had taken a little extra, unexpected preparation, but she was ready now.
I lay back, my nightie up and my panties down. It didn’t matter if they saw me diddling myself, and I couldn’t bear the idea of going away now. As Lee’s cock eased into Aunt Susan’s cunt, I began to ram my fingers in and out of my own hole, fucking myself so viciously I wondered if my nails weren’t scarring my interior. Only wondered. I didn’t stop to find out. If I’d stopped, I’d have had to take those fingers out of me, and I didn’t want to do that at all. My thumb flipped back and forth on my cunt and I found myself gasping audibly, both from my own sensations and from the delightful scene I was watching.
Aunt Susan was entering into her first real fuck and she was loving it. Lee’s cock was in her belly-deep now, his balls swinging and rocking on the cheeks of her ass, and she was making soft, cooing [missing text] cried into the still night air. Her face was transfixed with the loveliness of what he was doing to her, and her pretty little nipples stuck out furiously as they surmounted her apple breasts. If I’d had the time to spare, I’d have gone to her and sucked those nipples till they grew even redder and even stiffer.
But I didn’t have the time. I was racing toward a climax and it was the only thing that mattered to me right now. My hands were galloping in and out of my cunt, one inserted, one stroking all around, and I remembered Belinda, the way she’d gotten her little fist into me. Could I do it myself? It would be a memorable occasion indeed — it would be hell if I got stuck or anything, too. Oh, fuck the consequences!
I spread my gash with one hand and made my five fingers of the other hand into a pointing mow where they nestled inside my split lips. I pushed firmly, thankful for the greasy lubrication of my interior, and I was in my cunt knuckle deep.
My pussy was still quite sensitive from the churning and week-long upset of my period, and I winced as my fist went deeper still. I had to pull my heels back and throw my knees wider, but it did the trick. My cunt seemed to open up and swallow me in, and before I knew it, my fucking fist was in me, and if I’d been wearing a wristwatch, the mouth of my snug hole would have been scraped raw.
My eyes seemed to revolve madly in their sockets. I was ready to come massively, if the agitated pumping of my heart signified anything.
Speaking of agitated pumping — Lee was doing some of that to my aunt right about now. Her toes were pointing to the ceiling and he lay between her legs, driving that big cock in and out of her pussy. She made a cunny ring around his rod and there were squishy, crackly sounds as he whipped it to her.
“Faster, Lee, darling,” Aunt Susan gasped, “faster, harder — oh, give me more — I want it all — I want everything…”
He was giving her everything, too. That cock of his must have been a good seven inches long, thick and barrelly in proportion, which is a nice way for cocks to be, and I’d been worried about Aunt Sue’s ability to take it first try. There was no need to worry. She was like all the rest of us females. Her cunt had the capacity to spread and absorb large objects, preferably large masculine objects. Jesus, if I could take on my fist in a hot bout of screwing, Aunt Sue should be able to accept Lee Kinloch’s prick!
Accept it she did, and she didn’t seem satisfied with what he was giving her. She kept moaning and wailing, panting for him to shoot more cock into her. “Fuck me,” she whispered up to him, “please, fuck me!” Aunt Susan was starting late, as lives went, but she was getting a head start all the same.
I kept ramming my cunt with that inserted fist, watching their fuck when my eyes happened to be in focus. That wasn’t too often, but I got to see enough to know that Aunt Susan would never again be content to live the life of a dowdy, hermit lady buried in the sticks. She was swallowing LIFE to the hilt and her sweating face seemed more lovely with each fresh fuck-stroke Lee gave her. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she was beautiful. Or maybe beauty was being thrust upon her.
Into her Lee wouldn’t have complaints when this was through, either. His cock was getting a championship workout in Aunt Susan’s tight slit, and he was enjoying the hell out of the fuck they shared. He smiled a big smile, and he purred to her in husky words of endearment and encouragement. So it might be that I’d been good to both of them. Lee seemed to like Aunt Sue as a person. It was time he found out he could love her as a woman. And if they didn’t work out in the long run, she shouldn’t have any trouble finding a replacement just as good.
How much of my self-satisfaction was due to my fist-fucking I don’t know. Content and smugness seemed to bathe my sweating body where I lay, and my hand was lacked in the prison of my silt. If I weren’t careful, I’d ruin myself. I’d stretch my pussy so broadly that nothing short of two cocks working in tandem could touch me to the quick.
“Oh, Susan!” Lee yelled, and his face began to twist into a come-grimace. She was already exploding — this was her third or fourth orgasm of the evening — I’d last count — and he was ready to give it to her. A mischievous spark burned within me and I found my voice.
“She’s not on the Pill,” I giggled. “Don’t come inside her unless you’re willing to make an honest woman of her.”
He looked at me with a strange expression, and then it was too late to discuss the matter. His cock ramrodded into Aunt Susan’s cunt and I could see the thick strings of cum coating his steely shaft as he rabbit-fucked in and out. God, he must have been giving her a gallon of his jizz! It dripped out of her wet hole each time he pulled back to slam her cunt again, and still he was jerking inside and moaning as his dick spat out a fresh load of cream.
She twisted and bucked so wildly I thought she might break off his cock at the root, and he pulled his way free, still gleaming hard, his face red with excitement. Lee stared at me, I stared at him. He came towards me on his knees, his eyes fixed on the fist I had stuffed up my cunt, and I pulled it out as fast as I dared, almost feeling the elastic of my cunt snap back into place.
Lee touched my thighs and before I knew it, he had replaced one large foreign object with another large foreign object. Neither of us bothered to wonder if Aunt Susan might be offended by his fucking me. If she were offended by that, maybe she didn’t deserve to have him. But it was the spirit of the moment, you know? Neither of us could have stopped once his dick grazed my copper curls of pussy fluff, and when I opened to take his cock into my hungry cunt, I knew that it was as right as anything could be.
Lee penetrated me savagely, giving me all his big dick on the first plunge, and I raised my knees to offer him still more of my cunt. He had a sixth sense. He was gentle with Aunt Susan when he sensed that she needed gentleness, but with me it was more like a gang rape. There seemed to be three of him socking it to me, and I loved every one of them. Lee was no longer a gentleman, and I’ve never been a lady in the prim, tea-drinking sense. He fucked me like the starving animal I was, and he fucked me deliciously. I screamed to take his stabs and I clawed his back with my fingers as he leaned in to sip a kiss from my lips.
The next thing I knew Aunt Susan was with us. Her cunt dripped viscous jizz as she knee-walked to where I lay with her man, and I grabbed for that inviting target. My thumb stabbed into her tight hole, a little relaxed now that she had been fucked and licked royally, and she began to hunch up and down on my hand. Lee raised his head and Susan’s lips met his. They kissed lovingly, and both of them stroked my body. In another second they were both kissing me, too, while Lee kept on balling me and I continued to diddle Aunt Susan with my thumb. I felt loved and wanted, as if I were indeed drowning in love, and the eagerness for a gigantic release was a gnawing hunger inside me.
“Give it to me harder and faster, you bastard,” I told Lee affectionately. “I want to feel that big tool of yours in my throat!”
He tried to respond, damned if he didn’t! I swear to my Lord I could almost feel the head of his rod tapping me on the heart as my ass lifted and his thrusts became absolutely demonic.
I couldn’t retain my desires a second longer. I lunged up to him and tried to swallow him balls and all with my churning, rippling pussy. Lee obliged me, stuffing me full and overflowing, and I felt the most soul-stirring sensations as his dick explored my snatch.
I came in torrents, my cunt liquid with juices and the melting release of orgasm. Lee kept on fucking me — he was at his best now, obviously. The two orgasms he’d already had took care of the immediate needs of his body. I was willing to bet he could keep that boner of his for the rest of the night and into tomorrow morning if necessary.
“Take it out,” I panted sadly when the contortions of my pussy increased to such a degree that I couldn’t bear to have his cock inside me. As his cock popped out, I jabbed Aunt Susan harder, making her scream in ecstasy, and then I just lay writhing on the bed, watching as Lee mounted my aunt from the rear. She raised her butt so he could get into her, and she sighed to feel her first doggy-style fuck. Both of them were handling her cunt as he screwed her, and I wondered if they even knew whose fingers were tweaking her clitoris.
By then I’d drifted from one big come into another, not quite so big but very intense during its short life. It faded and still another bit me, again a bit smaller but quite enjoyable, and there were others waiting on the sidelines. I helped them with the tickling of fingers on my pussy-mound, and then all I could do was lie there, twitching, drooling on the sheets, my body shaking from my own gyrations and from the gung-ho fuck Aunt Susan and Lee were into not far away.
So it had worked, I thought distantly, as if I were somewhere else watching them and me. So it had worked indeed.
Worked? Of course it had worked. And it worked better the next Friday evening, when David and Belinda motored out from town far dinner and drinks. They didn’t go home until Sunday evening, and the only reason was that David had work at the office first thing Monday.
Aunt Susan opened up in a big way. And why not? She’d sublimated her natural urges for such a long time. Remember, until that night only one man had ever fucked her, and it was such a traumatic experience that she withdrew into a shell of cold granite. But there were needs and desires inside her, just as there are in all of us, and when those needs and desires found their head she could no more control them than she could request the sun to rise an hour early for her convenience.
I’ll never forget the beaming look on her face the lint time she felt the indescribably erotic sensation of being fucked in the cunt by David Rodgers and in the mouth by Lee Kinloch at the same time. Her face was a study in arousal and lustful beauty, and Belinda and I were so excited by it that we threw ourselves upon each other for a 69 that should be in the Guinness Book of World Records.
And so that weekend passed. Aunt Susan tried everything, and she found that she loved it all. Sex was no longer a sadistic torture in her mind — it was the epitome of what life was all about, and she drank it up like a desert wanderer who’s found an oasis after waterless weeks. I wondered if she might be a nymphomaniac, but of course she wasn’t. She just had a lot of catching up to do.
I got a few cards and letters from Mama and Daddy while they were traveling in Europe, and a couple of long-distance calls, too, and it seemed almost no time at all before my month was up and they’d returned home and I had tb go join them. School was about to begin, too, and the ivied halls were waiting for me to reappear, but I went with a sorried mind.
I was saying good-bye to the most exciting summer of my life. To David and Belinda, whom I loved like brother and sister, and who felt the same about me. To Aunt Susan, as well, and to Lee, who had moved in with her exactly one week after their first night together. They were planning on a winter wedding, if both still agreed by that time, and I was promised the position of maid of honor. Also, I could fuck the bridegroom as many times as I wanted the night before — not to mention the bride, whose cunt was open to me whenever I felt the urge.
It had been a significant summer for me in many ways. Lilly’s invitation, for one thing. I had really been on the verge of declaring for lesbianism. In retrospect I couldn’t believe it, and I wasn’t sure I could explain it to her when I saw her again.
I’d been dissatisfied with my sex life, sure, but dropping guys and going exclusively with girls wasn’t the answer. My trouble was that I fucked too many guys for the pure sport of it. From now on I was going to ball only the people I liked. Maybe I wouldn’t have as many scalps on my belt, but I was damned sure I’d be having a lot more fun. Sex is dynamite when you do it with someone who means something to you. Otherwise it’s just exercise for the organs. Enjoyable, but not an emotional experience at all.
I have a lot of plans, and I had one that should be dynamite. If I gave up my study hall and free period this semester and took two extra classes, I could be finished with high school by Christmas break. Lilly could do it, too. And our grades were good. Why couldn’t we enroll as midwinter students at Ohio U.? We could live with Aunt Susan, who had plenty of room and plenty of love to hand around. And if Lee and Aunt Sue and I couldn’t make Lilly see the joy of what we had together, well it was just Lilly’s hard luck.
It sounds perfect, doesn’t it? I’m so anxious to spring it on Lilly. I know she’ll go along. She’s my best friend, she says she loves me, and I know that she’ll follow when I return to Ohio this winter.
After all, it’s for her own good. She claims she’s liberated, but still she wants to chain both of us into a particular kind of relationship to the exclusion of all other kinds. What’s liberated about being chained? Her trouble is that she’s never tried sex with a real man. David and Lee will be happy to show her the difference between men and boys, while Aunt Susan, Belinda and I can take cared of any girl play she still wants to indulge in afterward. She’s got to understand that she can swing both ways, that she can have her cake and eat it, too. It’s going to work and she’ll thank me for it.
I can hardly wait till December!
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