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Hold me, i'm cumming - sex story


Hold me, i'm cumming



"Living in the boarding house gave all of them more sex than they could handle. Still it was little brother's big thing that held most of her attention... so rigid and so near and so always ready for her hungry lips."

CHAPTER ONE

"Stupid sonofabitch! Where you get off bein' so cheeky!"

"AIN'T CHEEK! I SEEN 'IM!"

"DON'T SASS ME! GODDAMN UNGRATEFUL WHELP! YELL AT ME I'LL TAKE YOUR HIDE OFF!"

Friday night at Ma Conner's boardinghouse. Seven of us at the table and one skulking from chair to chair trying to get a handout without Ma seeing him. Eight, and only five were paying guests. Typical scene, too, and my food was churning already, like it always did by the time I could get away from that dining room.

As if it weren't bad enough to sit down to every meal with my pussy taut from wishing Eric would get under the table with me or something! But, no; that must not have been enough. Always there had to be the yelling and name-calling between Ma and her sister's boy, fifteen-year-old Will Dennis. She'd raised him from the age of nine, after his mother had abandoned him to go whoring in Chicago. Ma was right; he ought to show some respect after all she'd done for him. He didn't. He acted as if he hated her. He let his hair grow until it hung onto his shoulders and talked radical and probably even smoked pot! And he got mad every time she reminded him how much he owed her. So they fought at every meal, him defying her with his snapping, black eyes and crooked teeth and weasel nose and her pushing back the coarse hair that kept falling across her forehead and setting her jaw and shrieking.

It wasn't that I couldn't take it... or Mark, my fourteen-year-old brother, for that matter. It was just I was scared to death Eric would get a bellyful and tell Ma where to stick her Goddamn place.

As usual, though, it was suave, dark, snake-like Duane Fowler who got pissed off, while Eric patiently ignored the row and worked his way through his double portion of dessert.

"For Christ's sake! Sounds like an Irish fishing wharf!" Duane growled. "Belt the little snot and be done with it!"

Ma didn't take a lot of shit off her guests and I don't think she really cared right then if Duane did leave. She fixed him with a baleful glare and drew herself up, swelling as if she had an air pump hooked into her boobs. "Who the hell asked you, Duane Fowler? Just because those know-nothin' owners in Kansas City think you got the brains to run the Emporia Bowl doesn't mean you been out of diapers long enough to tell me how to raise a kid!"

Duane snorted. "Maybe being closer to the diapers makes it easier to remember what works."

Ma sniggered behind her hand. "You're even closer to your high school pettin' days. Hear that ain't gettin' you all you're lookin' for down at the alleys."

That hit a nerve. Duane shot a dark glance toward me and made a snarling noise in his throat. Before he could think of a retort Ma's daughter slipped a knife into the open wound. Nancy was a "super-sophisticated", prematurely mature kid, to judge by her opinion of herself, and she kept up on the gossip around Emporia.

"Even with breaks," she added. And then, as if on some totally unrelated subject and with a quick sideways glance at me, "In fact, they say there's some kind of excitement down along the river these days. A real pusher ought to get down there."

I choked and thought about climbing over the table at her. I'd had to fight Duane off ever since he'd come in as manager of the Emporia Bowl. And that, after I'd changed jobs to get out from under that filthy Mr. Goldstein's thumb at the Bijou Theater. For three and a half miserable years, when I was too young to get another job without Mr. Goldstein's recommendation, I'd submitted to all the degrading experiences he could devise. As cashier at the Bowl, I'd thought I had it made. And then Duane had arrived.

But I'd held him off. As stories began circulating from girls who had bought his line, I'd cringed and firmed up my determination to stay out of his clutches. Even when he kept me late with phony recounts at the register and nit-picking stuff about receipts, I'd held out. For the past three weeks he'd been harassing me that way, and I still hadn't let him make any headway.

Somebody had pulled the rug out from under me, though. Somebody had started a rumor I was slipping off to the river at quitting time and taking on whatever came along. Man or boy or boy-and-dog, the whispers went, Lee Schlangen's taking on all comers. Down on the river bank. Duane could have shot those rumors down with one sentence. He could have confirmed my claim he was keeping me at the register and on the books a couple of hours every night. But all the bastard did was smile knowingly and make a "tch-tch" noise and say he found it hard to believe Miss Schlangen would do all the terrible things they said. In the looks he gave me, it was plain he'd put a stop to that ugly talk once I came across for him.

But even under Nancy's dirty-minded, hurt-'em-whenever-you-get-a-chance attack, I couldn't look at the man without chills of fear chasing themselves up and down my back. I did see Mark sort of lurch in his chair as if he were about to bring something to Nancy's attention. So I kicked his shin good and hard and scowled at him. We couldn't afford to run from Ma the way Eric or Duane could. Not even if Mark had begun hearing the stories and was getting cut up by that little snot's innuendoes.

Eric looked up from his empty dessert plate with a bemused sort of expression as if he'd just gotten there. "Hmm... Nigg was telling me they're taking record loads of fish out of the river this month. You might want to take a crack at them, Fowler."

Goddamn him! He was such a gentleman! He could always come up with something to take off the pressure, and yet he wouldn't give me the time of day. Wasn't always like this! I thought. You had real hot nuts for me when you first moved in! Wasn't until you started listening to some of those big-mouth bastards you decided you were too good to get mixed up with a tramp like me! And most of the stories just as big lies as the one about the river. I could have cried. Pious shit! I fumed. What makes a Dock Superintendent on a truck freight dock so Goddamn pure!

I knew, though. It wasn't being the superintendent and in line for a real promotion into the Kansas City office. It was just what kind of man he was... tender and thoughtful and conservative... great, muscular, six-foot-two body for backing up his authority... words enough in his vocabulary so he didn't have to use the short, ugly ones unless he wanted to. With his crewcut light brown hair and unlined face and physique, I kept imagining he belonged in one of the pictures in that book about Greek Gods Mark was studying. And I loved him until sometimes I thought I'd die. Only he wasn't about to tangle with a reputation like mine.

Try supporting yourself and your kid brother like me! I thought. Start out when you're about eighteen -- just barely -- and he's twelve and only Ma's good word keeps them from sending each of you to some foster home. Just try working to make up the difference between a piddling insurance check and what it costs to live, even at Ma Conner's. Then see what kind of reputation you end up with!

I'd reached the bottom of the self-pity well. I couldn't stay in that damn dining room another minute! I sort of stumbled to my feet and muttered an excuse and got out of there. I guess Mark was just about as up-tight as I was, because he growled something and came after me. And of course, faithful old Gunner gave up his attempt to wheedle a mouthful and padded after Mark.

As I went through the archway toward the stairs I heard Ma sniff.

"Hmph! A body'd think we could have one civilized meal around here. I swear, young man, I don't know what's come over you! Mark my words, you'll get your come-uppance!"

And Will's whining, belligerent response. "Awww, ain't my fault everybody's got a wild hair!"

CHAPTER TWO

For some reason my thoughts kept swirling back to Mr. Goldstein while I climbed the stairs. God, how I hated that man! He'd been pudgy -- not really fat, just smooth and pudgy and sweaty -- and he'd seemed to me to have as many hands as an octopus. I'd been scared to death of him the first time I'd had to talk to him. Mother and Daddy hadn't been dead longer than a month and I'd already realized the insurance wasn't going to stretch far enough at Ma Conner's. I mean, there were two of us no matter how you looked at it, and that meant it cost for two instead of one. She'd gone to bat for us and kept them from splitting us up, but she did have a living to make, herself. And the people who paid her for board and room furnished that living.

The trouble was, I actually lacked about five months of being old enough to be my own boss. Technically, Mr. Goldstein should have gotten a court okay to put me to work. And that would have meant somebody from Welfare snooping around his place all the time and him filling out extra forms and all sorts of other trouble. But he did understand how desperate I was. So he hired me without going through the formalities. They'd wink at it so long as I kept my nose clean, he assured me. It wouldn't be fair to pay me what the other usherettes got, either, he pointed out, since they were all legal and didn't involve him in any risk. And I could see that and accepted what he was willing to pay; at least I could come out just about even at the end of every month.

Only keeping my nose clean really had meant doing whatever Mr. Goldstein wanted me to. I hadn't been working more than a week before one of the patrons made a big fuss about losing his wallet. I looked for it -- he was sitting right on the aisle where I was working -- and never did find it. Mr. Goldstein was worried about that. He made me keep looking. And when everybody else had finished and gone home, I was still looking. And Mr. Goldstein was watching me look.

So I was crawling along between two rows of seats and my miniskirt was hiking up to my ass -- he insisted on real short skirts for the good of the business -- and my head ached until I was practically blind. And all of a sudden I felt his hand on my back, sort of between my shoulder blades, and his other hand grabbed my pussy. God! What could I do? I could yell some and struggle some more, but I didn't have room to break away. And before I could get out more than the first couple of yells he had his hand inside my panties and one finger lying in my slit. He was as fast as a cat, too! I didn't even know how he'd done it, but he got astride me, his knees holding my waist and wedged between the seats and his rump over my shoulders! And that gave him two hands to use where he wanted to.

I'd grown up in a little town about twenty miles upriver from Emporia. I knew farms and farm animals and farm kids. There wasn't anything about sex I hadn't heard and sniggered about and gotten shivers over. Maybe I'd even hidden behind a woodpile once in awhile. But Mother and Daddy had done what they could to teach me what was "right" and what was "wrong". I could remember how Daddy's belt had stung those times when he'd found out I'd slipped a little.

So I was full of horror and panic at what Mr. Goldstein was doing. But that finger in my slit felt good! Oh, God, so terribly good! And I couldn't get away from it! He jerked my panties off my legs and grubbed at my pussy lips with those pudgy hands of his. He pried them apart and rubbed them between his fingers and worked one fingertip around the quivering, raw little rim of my cunt-mouth. And all I could do was make my hips go! I knew there was cunny-juice there; I could feel its heat as it oozed out and the cold as it began to dry. He spread it all over me -- on my pussy lips and into the crack between my "bum-apples", as one of the boys used to call them, and right on my scared, puckered little asshole!

I can't remember everything he did that night. It all gets foggy in my mind. But I do remember the way he wrapped his arms around me, just forward of my hips, and lifted my bottom into the air. My feet were waving and my back felt like it would break, and everything was wide open for him! I remember how hot and wet his mouth felt when he shoved his face into my ass crack. I remember the weird, fiery sensation when he kissed -- YES, ACTUALLY KISSED -- my asshole. But the most fantastic recollection of all is what it felt like when he started wedging the tip of his tongue into that puckered, winking little hole. Oh, Jesus! What an unbelievable sensation! Sweet and awful... delicious and agonizing... so exciting it made tears come to my eyes and so repulsive it made me want to throw up!

I didn't throw up. Not then or any time after. But I could have killed myself for some of the things I did because he made me do them. Especially when I found out the projectionist was staying at the theater every time Mr. Goldstein and I did. And that he was taking movies until they had hundreds of feet of me doing all those things. It was too late to quit, then. And Mr. Goldstein started letting other men use me. And boys!

Well, that was the one part I liked right from the start. Those sweet, cherubic, eager little boys with their peewee-cockers that were just barely ready to turn into hard-ons and the way their little foreskins peeled back and left them all red underneath and the way they...

God! Anyway, Mr. Goldstein got another real young girl in there after I'd worked three and a half years for him. And he let me quit and take the cashier's job at the Emporia Bowl. And I began to get over that awful period.

I guess I thought mostly about those little boys while I climbed the stairs and went back to Mark's and my apartment. I know I was thinking about them when I went inside. And I went right through my bedroom to the sun porch Ma had enclosed and let us have for a sitting room of our own. It was dark in there and I dropped onto the beat-up old rattan lounge and stared out the low windows at the cottonwoods and the street lights and wondered if any of those little boys recognized me now when they came bowling.

I was a little ashamed of myself; the crotch of my panties was wet from the goo my thoughts had triggered. My hands shook a little, too, but that was mostly from the fury and frustration I'd felt in the dining room.

There was a faint scuffling sound and Mark plunked down on the edge of the lounge. He leaned over me and sort of cuddled me without saying anything, as if he were twenty-two and I were fourteen. I let myself float in the warmth and security of his boyish embrace for awhile and then chuckled quietly.

"It's going to be okay, Markie. You know that Latin phrase you keep saying."

"Means 'Don't let the bastards get you down'?" he asked.

"That's the one. They can't get us down." To my horror, my voice cracked and I started to cry. It's that bastard, Eric! I thought. He's the one's getting me down!

Mark just held me tighter. I felt him squashing my boobies and tried to smother the abrupt wave of cock-hunger that washed over me. I cried harder and he squeezed harder and I had to squirm. I mean, my hips were squirming. I was sort of curling up around him and panting through the sobs and my pussy was burning up!

I don't know how he did it, but somehow his hand moved and brushed my bottom. It was like touching a match to a rocket! I grabbed him and hung on. My tits rubbed on him and my knees jerked up to jam my thighs against his buttocks and I was all over him! And his damn hand was all over! He didn't rub my thigh with it more than a couple of strokes, probably, but while I was still twisting around, he got it onto one of my boobs. He could have done anything, then. He was all those little boys rolled into one, and I was going to teach my own brother how to get the most pleasure out of fucking!

He didn't fight when I scrambled around so he was lying down and I was over him. He didn't object when I propped myself up so my boobs were right above his face, either. He simply unbuttoned my blouse and pushed my bra up off the swaying mounds and buried his face between them. But he did jerk pretty hard when I grabbed his hard-on through his trouser-front. That really seemed to shake him!

I didn't mind. I let him buck a little while I unzipped his fly. And when my hand had burrowed inside and clamped onto that naked, smooth cylinder and his wiry pubic hair was pricking my hand, he was welcome to flop around all he wanted to. He was clear gone, though. All of a sudden he wanted to do whatever I wanted him to. He let me undress him. He lay there with his eyes big and round and his mouth forming an "O" and let me take his pants and shorts off and held his arms right for me to get his T-shirt off. And he lay there as if he were paralyzed, looking sort of scared... scared of what was happening, but more scared to move.

"I'm not going to hurt you, honey," I told him, real soft. "Don't you see? I just want you to learn."

"Yeah." He gulped.

I let my dress settle wider on my shoulders, then shrugged so it slipped away from them. I stood perfectly still while the material sagged and wrinkled and slid down me a little at a time. It hung around my hips, twisted and draped, and I tugged at the bra cups Mark had shoved up. My boobs filled them again and I worked one shoulder strap real slowly off my shoulder, then the other, and pulled my arms out of them. Mark's eyes bugged as he stared at me. "Sis...?" His voice sounded strangled. "Sis! You're...!"

When he stopped and didn't say what he'd started to, I pushed my bra down to my waist. Just like that, I pushed it down so my tits spilled into the open. Mark licked his lips with the tip of his tongue and I turned the bra around at my waist so the catch was in front where I could unfasten it easy. And I pulled the empty thing away from me and let it dangle from my hand, slack and flat without its stuffing of flesh. I tossed it away, suddenly not feeling nonchalant or superior, but just as scared and unbelieving as the scared, naked kid who lay there staring up at me.

"Oh, Jeez, sis!" he whispered, kind of hoarse-sounding. "Oh, Jeez!"

As if his awe were a spur, I stiffened and fumbled at another button on my dress. Loosened, it gave the flimsy garment just enough freedom to start sliding again. A fraction of an inch at a time, the swell of my hips came in view -- and the broad, sweet curve of my lower belly. My panties hugged me intimately, too thin and clinging to soften the crease at the top of my pubic hair or to hide the dark-shadowed hump where the hair mat thrust forward on my love mound. In the rays of the rising moon -- they reached in through the windows and bathed me with their dusky radiance just like in some mythical rite -- wisps of black hair twisted around the edges of the panties and were silhouetted against the smooth whiteness of my flesh.

The dress passed the fullness of my bottom and slid off my thighs with a rush, exposing their rounded taper and the taut rigidity of my knees. I stepped out of the crumpled garment and began to work my panties down.

Again, Mark made a strangled noise. His breath hissed unsteadily and he whispered. "Oh, Jeez! Oh, Jeez, sis! I never seen...!"

"I know, sweetie." Real soft and tender, like a mother soothing her child. "I know you never. Don't you see, honey? It's time!" And I kept showing him more and more of that secret flesh he hadn't seen. My pubic hair bulged out when the panties freed it, springing full and curly, and my hands shook when I touched part of the crotch of the flimsy garment and found out how wet it really was.

After my whole pussy was uncovered and the panties were halfway down my thighs, there wasn't any way to keep the suspense up. I bent and quickly stripped the messy things from my legs and kicked them and the dress away. And then I stood over him, letting him get his fill of a figure as good as any in Emporia -- and better than most -- while I studied that peter of his and contemplated how much a man he'd become.

His pubic hair was still a little thin. It clustered into strands that curled in tight ringlets, clinging to the base of the white-shafted, veined, swollen-headed cock. His balls lay half-overlapped in the hollow between his thighs. Their bag was drawn-up and taut, goose-pimpled under the sparse hair that grew on it, and the nuggets inside reminded me of prune-plumbs. His pecker looked like it was going to burst! It lay stiffly on his belly, its tip almost hanging over his belly-button, the head bulging inside its stretched foreskin, which gaped at the end as if gasping for breath.

It exercised a hypnotic charm on me, that innocent, straining young organ. I sank slowly to my knees beside the lounge and laid a hand on his thigh, my fingertips reverently caressing the silken texture of his scrotum while I lowered my face closer and closer to that lovely, pulsing, thick-veined rod of meat above it. With my lips parted expectantly, I touched the softer underside of his dick with a tender kiss. I nibbled at it for a moment while Mark jerked in a deep breath and tensed his thighs. His knees rose and separated when I continued nibbling along the turgid stalk toward its crown, and he groaned.

"Oh, sis! Jeez, sis...! Unnnhhh...! Nnnggg!"

I fingered the sweet stem, the pads of my fingertips stroking along its sides while my teeth squeaked on the twitching foreskin. He acted as if he were afraid I meant to bite the raging pecker off. Every little nip brought a sharp flinch, his belly jerking and his cock leaping under my lips. His fists pressed tightly to his hips, clenching and unclenching. But he couldn't fight the eagerness I was arousing in him; his knees spread and his heels dug at the cushion while his hips started grinding.

"Uuuhhh... nnnNNnnn...! Oooh, sis, let me play with you, too!"

"Mmm...? Mmm! Okay!"

I sighed. It was so comfortable and so beautiful this way, kneeling -- sitting on my heels with my boobs resting on the edge of the lounge and just touching his hot, young body while I loved his throbbing dick. I'd have to stand, bending at the waist, if he wanted to dabble at my pussy. But I couldn't refuse his young male need. I pushed myself up and bent over him, smiling to myself at the way my boobies coned as they hung beneath me.

He caught at me, pulling me around toward him, and when my leg bumped the side of the lounge and stopped me, he seized that ankle and lifted my foot, swinging my leg across his chest. I gasped at the way my pussy had so suddenly been pulled open to his view. I struggled for a moment, but his hands held me securely and he continued to maneuver me until I knelt astride his chest, his upper arms resting on my calves and pinning my legs. And I stared right into the tip of his cock, shivering at the weird notion the hooded bulb was leering back at me.

I hitched myself over him, my tits brushing his hard, flat belly, and took the young cock in both hands. Lying on him, feeling the thickness of that boyish rib cage wedging my thighs apart and his clumsy, trembling fingers fumbling at my pussy-lips, I lost the artistic detachment I'd felt and became suddenly the voracious, cock-starved female. I extended my tongue and lapped at him. I scoured the skin of his scrotum, feeling his balls slide against each other under my tongue's pressure. I straightened the crusted hairs and stripped them of their musky coating on the surface of my tongue, letting them spring back squeaky clean. And I laved the dear, quivering trunk of his cock, its flavor strong at first with the remnants of sweat and seminal secretions, then clean and fresh and scented only with its own subtle man-smell.

I paced myself. I fought off the ever-growing impulse to gobble at the waiting, bulging head of that glorious prick. My tongue lingered over the last of its homage, caressing and teasing his drum-taut foreskin and twirling with tantalizing persistence around the very rim of that darkly gaping opening that would lead to his cockhead.

Mark was groaning continuously and twisting ferociously. His fingers dragged through the furry pelt that clothed each of my pussy-lips and probed tentatively at the hairless crevice between them. But I knew he was overwhelmingly distracted by the strange, delightful sensations in his dick. And at last my impatience broke its bounds. My hands closed in hard rings over the broadest girth of his hooded cockhead and started working his foreskin back. Terror threaded its way into my thought; maybe he'd never peeled that sheath to expose the tender meat inside! Maybe it wasn't going to be elastic enough to release that one blood-packed knob I wanted so badly to taste -- to fondle -- to gulp into my throat!

The edge of his hood was like a band of tough wire. It compressed the meat within as I worked it back. Mark wailed, his voice quavering and fearful, and thrust his butt into the air in agony.

"Sis...! YAGGHHH...! EEEIIIYE...! OH JEEZ, SIS...! LOVE OF GOD, DOOOONNN'T!"

I slipped the recalcitrant sheath back into place and worked it gently back and forth, testing it as it began to stretch and loosen. Dear God! I prayed. Oh, dear God, don't let me hurt him! And don't, please don't let it be so tight I can't get it back! Oh, please, God!

Little by little, the hard band softened and stretched. Little by little, the dark, tortured glans came into view. And I put my mouth to it and bathed it in soothing, healing saliva and caressed the sensitized, blunt, quivering nose with my tongue.

"MmmMMmmmMMmmm...! AHHahhAHHH...! Sis...! That feels... UNNNHHH...! Feels weird...! Bad and... and goooOOOD!"

Back... back more... stre-e-etch...! Now let it relax and slide forward... and cover... Now push-push-push... strip-peel-stretch-wiggle-stretch... And relax... and stretch... and relax... and stretch... and... it's... going... going goooiiinnnggg! It was a silent chant. It was a litany of desire. It was a prayer of lust and need and love for this innocent child who was my brother. And it was a frantic appeal. And, oh, dear God, there it goes! THERE IT GOES!

Taut and shiny, a bright red where the inner surface was being exposed, the stretching, resisting, now-tissue-thin hood slipped back until its tightest rim clamped the shoulder-ridge of his cockhead in its embrace. Mark writhed, his fingers digging into my hot, pulsing pussy-lips with heedless force while he tensed against the unknown.

Knowing I could win -- knowing I was the boss over that mindless, stubborn piece of skin -- I felt a silly rush of triumph and a determination to flaunt my superiority. Instead of stripping it the rest of the way onto his shaft with a quick, easy pull, I thrust it forward to cover the trembling, dewy cockhead again. Slowly, then, the tiniest fraction of an inch at a time, I worked it back toward the flare. As it went back, I teased and wet it with the tip of my tongue until it glistened with my saliva. I pushed it exactly to the greatest width of his cockhead and stopped it there, licking it all the way around and nibbling at it with my lips, massaging its drum-hard-tautness with the warm, firm softness of my mouth.

Again I worked the foreskin forward and again stripped it to its tightest position, again licking and massaging. And again and again, while the tortured, red-streaked, shiny appearance changed to a bruised, mottled-purple, relaxed look. When it stopped binding at the flaring, riblike shoulders, I finally stroked it past them and smoothed the fatty flesh-rich hood along the unyielding hardness of his shaft. And I lovingly caressed it again with my tongue and took playful bites of the inside-out foreskin with my lips, smearing its still-relaxing undersurface with my spit and lipstick.

Mark's virgin cockhead was now mine. It quivered like firm jelly before my eyes. I held the shaft in my hand, gripping it like I had held ice cream cones as a child, and turned it and waved it so I could study the head. It made me think of a startled, half-frightened kid looking at me. It was hard-packed, young flesh, raw-meat colored and a velvety texture under the wetness. The upper surface -- I had to push his cock up to a vertical position to look at that -- was bulging and domed at the end. It swept around a full curve and began to flare, swelling out to a wide, thick ridge at the rear. When I lowered his cock toward his belly, where in its stiffness it wanted to lie, the undersurface was up where I could see it. And it was like the whole bulging, meaty knob had been pulled together there and welded, leaving a part of the seam open for a passage. The shoulders dipped in where they came together, and they pulled up toward the tip a little, flattening at the end of his slit. The edges of the slit were rolled-smooth, textureless flaps, almost, that gaped apart when I squeezed his cock and drew together when I relaxed the pressure.

A swelling drop of clear, thin liquid trembled on the slit, bridging the gap and threatening to break and spread over the surface. And I knew it had formed after I'd finished stripping back his foreskin, because my tongue had scoured his cockhead then. I extended my tongue to scoop up the drop. My breath was short and my head buzzed with the excitement of the moment as I flipped the sweet fluid into my mouth and let it spread slowly over the waiting inner membranes. The taste, flat and metallic and faintly musky, made my mouth pucker and my tongue press against the roof of my mouth. My palate seemed to quiver and the joints of my jaws to tighten at the taste. I swallowed reflexively and touched the edges of his slit again. With slow, loving strokes, I lapped at the smooth-curved bulges of his cockhead and polished the rubbery flesh.

Mark was groaning. His flat, young belly was writhing, its muscles twisting and rippling with his reaction to the attentions I was giving his eager, twitching cockhead. His thumbs pried my swelling, sensitized pussy-lips apart and explored their inner, fluted lobes, making my hips jerk and weave in a quick, erratic rhythm. I put my lips to his cockhead, parting them to let part of the smooth, warm cock flesh protrude into the domain of my tongue. And I sucked, drawing on the trembling meat as if it were the tip of a cigarette -- or as if I were giving a love bite and would afterward be able to see the splotched, bruised surface I'd pulled the blood to.

The subtle man-taste of that spongy bulb aroused my eagerness and made my self-control crumble. I gobbled at it, gulping it fully into my mouth and settling my lips around the throat of the shaft. The broad dome nudged at the back of my tongue and I squeezed, shaping the pulpy mass to the contours of my palate while I sucked hungrily. With deliberate thrusts of my head, I forced his cock back and forth in my mouth, my lips sliding up and down the first inch of his shaft and the knobby bulb ramming from front to back of the hot, wet cavity. I shivered with delight each time his roundness bumped into the arch of my throat and swallowed continually as his youthful fluids seeped onto my tongue.

Mark seemed to get the idea. Groaning happily, he grabbed me, his hands closing on the fronts of my thighs and brushing against my belly. He pulled back and down until my pussy settled over his mouth, and his tongue began to stroke the soft, puffy bulges along the inner slopes of my parted pussy-lips. I was giddy with delight. His caresses were jerky and uncertain, but they were enthusiastic at the same time. Cautiously, I thrust first one leg back and then the other, moving my knees out from under me and extending them past either side of his head. And I felt rocked by excitement at the feel of his ears and the shorter hairs at the sides of his head where they were impressed on the sweat-moistened inner sides of my thighs.

The only noises in that moonlit sun porch were the wet, slurping ones of greedy tonguing and sucking and the puzzled whimpers of Mark's anxious dog, Gunner. I fondled my little brother's balls with one hand, the swollen young eggs sliding over each other inside their crowded bag and the covering puckered and coarse against my fingers.

And I ran my manicured nails lightly up and down the exposed part of the ribbed, pulsing, taut-skinned cockshaft through narrow, trickling rivulets of my own escaping saliva.

His tongue explored my twat, lapping at the inflamed membranes of the inner lips and probing deeper to the aching, juice-coated floor of my slit. I could feel my cunt-rim winking as if it were trying to trap the passing tongue-tip and the hungry, writhing emptiness of my inner passage. My tits now flattened beneath my weight, their pulpy, nodular tissues spreading over my brother's belly. I swayed from side to side on their spongy cushioning and let the quick waves of pleasure wash through me. And I bobbed my head, jacking his thick, engorged cock back and forth over the yielding surface of my tongue while I sucked. My hips jerked fiercely as Mark forced his tongue to the rim of my cunt-mouth and twirled it on that rubbery ring. His smooth, firm young cheeks held my pussy-lips open and worked continuously against them in a way that kept triggering new eruptions of streaming cunt-juice at his sucking lips.

Suddenly his hands stiffened against my hips and he thrust me off his mouth, my twitching ass rising into the air.

"Sis! Jeez, sis!" His words were thick and slurred. "C'n I fuck you now? You gonna let me fuck you?"

I reluctantly pulled my head back to release the straining, leaping cock. "Yes." I swallowed convulsively, the heady flavor of his sweet cockhead lingering at the back of my throat. "Yes, hon, you can fuck me. You want to do that now?"

"Now, sis! Jeez, how much can a guy take?"

"Okay." I felt light-hearted and happy, now, my bitterness and self-pity washed away in the freshet of his innocent lust. "Okay, sweetie. Let go of my legs."

He let me get my knees under me again and I turned around to face him, straddling his waist and raising myself erect over him. He looked puzzled and rested his hands on the taut front muscles of my thighs, his thumbs burying themselves in my dark pussy-hair.

"Whatchya gonna do, sis?"

I didn't say anything. I simply reached under my gulping cunt and grabbed that lovely, rigid dick of his again and lifted it away from his belly. Raising it so it stood upright under me, I let myself down toward it, wiggling my hips so my pussy wove back and forth as they approached the now-trembling dome. My pussy-lips closed around the thick knob, their steaming wetness lubricating the contact and guiding the cockhead to the throbbing, greedy rim of my cunt-mouth.

Mark's eyes widened and a grin spread slowly across his lips. "Oh! Ohhh! I get it, sis! OOOEEE...! This is going to feel like the greatest!"

We sort of flowed together. My cunt-mouth was hot and wet and stretchy from his sucking and his cockhead was so very smooth and round that the rubbery rim just gobbled the heavy knob right in. The hot, thick, soft walls of my vagina wedged apart as the inward-plowing cockhead bored its own passage between them and reamed the tube his shaft would lie in. As my cunt-rim slid down the length of the ribbed cylinder, I drew a deep, shaky breath and seized my own thighs.

"UNNNHHH...! MAR-KEE!" My words came out as jerky gasps. "How's... it... feeeeel!"

"YNNNGGG! Shit, sis...! W-w-warmmmm...! AIGHHH...! GRRREAT!"

The bristly, sparse wisps of his cock-hair jabbed into the gaping, inflamed membranes surrounding my sinking, cunt-mouth. My hot, oozing flesh molded itself over the bulging base of his cock and the front ridges of his thighs rose to meet my quivering, wriggling ass-cheeks.

Mark grabbed my wrists and squeezed, then lifted his hands to my swaying, full-sloped boobs and cradled them.

"OH, FUCK! OH, FUCK! THE GREATEST, SIS! A GLOVE FOR MY PECKER! JUST LIKE A TIGHT GLOVE FOR IT!"

I bounced a little bit and he gasped.

"Ohhh, shiiit!" he groaned. "Let me!"

He shifted his hands to my ass, raising me a couple of inches, and his hips snapped, jerking his ass off the lounge and plunging his stiff, deep-buried cock upward through the crowding organs. Dropping back, he thrust again and then again, each upward stroke ending when his hard cock-base slammed into my pussy. My tits leaped like water-filled balloons and my hair bounced all over my shoulders. I leaned forward enough to brace my hands on his belly and held my ass off him while he pounded at it with his pumping hips. His giant cockhead churned my belly and the thick, slippery dick-shaft scrubbed in and out through the tight-clamped rim of my cunt. I shuddered and shook my head giddily.

"MMMMM...! YAGHHH...! FUCK ME, SWEETIE...! BLAST ME!"

"JEEZ, SIS...! OOOOFFF...! UNNNHHH...! RIGHT UP YA!"

His blows speeded and strengthened. He hit my pussy hard enough to fling me right into the air, lifting my knees off the lounge, and I clung to him, my fingers biting into his sides to keep me from being thrown off.

"OH, SWEETIE! OH, SWEEEEETIE!" My voice shook, half sob and half laugh. "D-D-DON'T BLAST ME LOOSE!"

"HANG ON! OH, SHIT, HANG ON, SIS!"

An enormous knot of excitement and tension was forming in the core of my belly: I knew I was going to blow into an orgasm within seconds and I wanted to be even closer to this dear, hot-blooded baby brother of mine. I dropped forward, my boobs squashing like pulp over his chest and my hair falling over my shoulders onto his. Tears wet my lashes and moans of happiness bubbled from my parted, twitching lips. I kicked back with my feet, extending my legs outside his, and let my pussy settle around the base of his cock.

"Oh, sweeetie!" I whispered. And I yelled. "OOOHHH, HONNNEEEY! FUCK HAAARRRD...! HAAARD...! I'M CUMMMIIINNNGGG...! CUMMMIIINNNGGG!"

"YEEEAGGGHHH...! MEEE TOOOO...! UNNNHHH...! NNNNN!"

"MAKE IT, MARKIE...! OHHH, MMMAKE-IT!"

He stopped blasting and strained up under me, the base of his cock grinding my clitoris and the full, meaty cock throbbing inside me. The knot of excitement seemed to rupture, a great tide of hot pleasure surging over me and gut-twisting, spasmodic contractions squeezing my inner walls onto the implanted peter. I went rigid, arching my back and surrendering to the fierce tremor that took me in its grip. My pussy seemed to crawl on his hardness while he pulsed and jerked and his cum spurted against the upper end of my barrel. The warm jism pooled in me and my belly seethed with its new load. My ass-cheeks tightened and clamped together and I pushed my upper torso up with stiff arms to let my weight ride on his spewing cock.

"AGHHH... UMMMMM... MMMMM..." I twisted violently and felt the inner convulsions easing. "Ohhh, honnneeey...! Sooo goood...! Markeee, baby!"

"Yummm! Sis, I never came that hard! Not ever!" He shivered and put his arms around me, crushing my naked, slender body against the sweaty, quivering, boy-flesh. "Hot, wet, tight cunt-walls, sis! They just milked everything I had out of me! Jeez, what a way to cum!"

In the returning awareness of my afterglow, I felt an abrupt need to make him understand. "Mark, honey..."

"Huh?"

"Marky, don't let fucking get to be just a wild, dirty way to get kicks. Always remember how good it can be when you feel right to start with."

"Huh! You blow your mind, sis?"

I tried desperately. "Listen, honey! Think! It's best when it means something besides just getting your balls off! When you're as close to a woman as you can get and you've still got to get closer, then fucking gets you closer!"

"Uh... okay... yeah, sis, I see what you're driving at. Okay."

I hoped he did. I lay in our sweat, sliding a little on his happily squirming belly, and made my cunt-mouth squeeze his softened prick affectionately. He giggled and bumped my pussy with his pelvic arch and raised his knees a little to force my thighs further apart.

And he sighed. "We sure fit together good, sis. You're nice to fuck."

By the note of contented love in his voice I knew he did understand. He might find the notion strange and foggy, but on a gut level he did understand.

"Marky... I love you..."

"Aww, sis...! Aw, I love you, too. But let's don't get all mushy. Okay?"

"Okay." I had to laugh. "Okay, sweetie."

"Hey, sis. This isn't going to be the only time, is it? We're going to fuck lots of times, aren't we? Please?"

"Sure. Sure, we will, Marky."

"And we won't always make it something real serious, will we?"

"No. We'll make it fun."

"And play around and try stuff and things like that?"

"Sure. Sure we will."

"Mmm! Okay, sis." And he squeezed me hard.

CHAPTER THREE

We stayed on the lounge quite awhile with Mark's pecker still in me. It was soft and had shrunk a lot, so some of his cum oozed out around it and got both of us gooey and sticky, and the smell of cock got pretty heavy in the night heat, but everything felt great to me. We couldn't stay that way forever, though; Gunner kept whining and nudging at us and his wet nose was awfully cold when he poked it against my side or reared up and stuck it between the backs of my legs.

So we got up and giggled a lot and took a shower together. It was the first time either of us had done that. Mark got another hard-on, what with both of us being soapy and slick and him rubbing against my tits and feeling around. But I wasn't about to let him climb onto me again that night. I mean, a girl doesn't have any right to spoil a kid, even if she is the one who's supporting him. I turned off the hot water when he wasn't looking and the cold stream shriveled him up in a hurry. Even after that, though, we toweled each other dry. I'm afraid I was just about as horny as he was, and I had the most delicious feeling about being able to do just what we wanted to. I made sure the door to the hallway was locked and we went back to the sun porch and left our clothes off and talked.

We didn't turn on the lights; the moon was shining in so bright we could almost make out colors in its glare. And a couple of times we heard people going past in the alley and got up and stood right in the window, naked and gleaming in the silvery light, with me hanging onto Mark's cock and him getting a handful of tit. Nobody happened to look up, and I guess that was pretty lucky. If they'd seen us and said anything to Ma Conner, our ass would have been in a sling.

Somehow we got around to talking a little about what had happened at supper. Mark was sorry for Will, although I felt the kid deserved whatever Ma said.

"Aw, sis!" Mark argued. "How would you like somebody all the time telling you how much you owed her? And knowing your mother didn't even care enough about you to care what happened to you? Wouldn't make you real nice, I bet."

"Well..." I hadn't thought of Will that way. He was just a nasty, irritating kid, as far as I was concerned. But when Mark put it that way I did have to admit Will had an awful lot of provocation for being a snot. "Well, maybe..."

"Who likes him, sis? Ain't one person here that does! What's he got going for him?"

That got me where I was weakest. Mark and I had found out all about being lonely and miserable. But at least we knew our mom and dad had loved us and done everything for us they could while they were alive. Will hadn't even had a father; everybody in Emporia knew he was a bastard. And then to lose his mother the way he did -- to have her take off to be a whore and not even see that anybody was going to take care of him...

Well, that was bound to make him feel terrible. It was bound to make him bitter and defensive and contrary. The worst part of it was, like Mark said, nobody anywhere liked the little shit! The more I thought about it, the worse I felt. I'd been just as mean to Will as I could be. I'd gone out of my way to make things miserable for him. And there had been a few times when he'd actually tried to be nice to me, like a dog you kick around still comes nosing around with his tail between his legs trying to make you like him.

Maybe I was still thinking about that the next morning. I know I wasn't being very careful. I let Duane Fowler trap me in the upper hallway before I even realized he was there. I guess I was worried about two things. I didn't want to have it on my conscience I'd helped drive a kid out of society. But neither did I like the way Mark seemed to be trying to pattern himself after Will. I mean, I was beginning to see signs of Will's rebelliousness and contempt for what he called the "establishment" cropping up in Mark. And I sure wasn't going to stand still for that!

So there I was. I ran right into Duane... bumped into him and fell back and looked up to see him looming over me and grinning down at me.

He gave me a real leer and ran his stare right down over me as if I were naked. And he said, "Hey, baby! We've got hours and hours before we've got to open up the alleys. What do you say you come on into my apartment for little cozy loving up?"

I backed a little further away and looked around to see if anybody was around. I knew Mark was still asleep in his room and it looked like Eric might have gone out already. Anyhow, there wasn't anybody in sight upstairs. So I sort of bristled and tried to bluff my way out of it.

"Get lost, man! Maybe you've got plenty of time to waste! Not me! And I don't want any of your loving up!"

"Aw, don't be a sorehead. And don't play so hard to get! Hell, I know you don't mind putting out."

"You don't either! You know those stories aren't true!"

"Yeah? How would I know? Where there's smoke there's fire, I always heard."

"Well, I'm not hot for you, Duane Fowler. You just leave me be! I wouldn't sleep with you if you were the only man in Emporia!"

He turned ugly. He stuck out his jaw at me and sort of bent toward me and I thought he might hit me. He didn't; he just snarled. "Shit! One of these days you're going to piss me off, kid! What's to keep me from grabbing you right now and yanking you in there? Bet you wouldn't even holler!"

"Better see I can't get my fingernails to your eyes, you bastard!"

He kind of lowered his voice. "One of these days, twat...!" And his eyes looked like a snake's. "One of these days I'm going to tie you up and take some of the sass out of you! Time I get through, you'll beg me to fuck you every time you see me!"

"Fat chance!" I flared at him, a great big chunk of ice in my belly.

He made a sudden lunge as if he meant to grab me. I whirled with a choked yell and made a dash for my own door. I flung it open and dived through. And as I yanked it shut I realized he hadn't taken one step after me. He was still standing there, feet widely planted and hands on hips, laughing up a storm!

Just the same, I didn't go back into the hall until I'd made sure he wasn't there. By the time I did go downstairs, Mark was up and went with me. And everybody was already there. Eric was taking the day off, letting the assistant superintendent handle the dock, and he had on a real snappy-looking pair of brown slacks and a yellow, pull-over sportshirt. His muscles bulged under it and I felt like a giant hand was squeezing my chest.

I spoke to him without thinking. "Oh, gee, you look nice!"

"Hmm." He didn't sound the least bit interested in how I thought he looked.

"Eric..."

"Hm?" He still wasn't interested.

"Eric... those things Nancy was hinting last night... there isn't a bit of truth in them."

He just lifted his eyebrows... didn't even say anything. And Nancy edged in our direction. She hadn't heard what I'd said; I'd kept my voice low. But maybe it looked to her like there was something developing between Eric and me. She made her hips sway and twisted her shoulders a little so her boobs would look bigger than they were and fluttered her eyelashes. And when she lowered her head and made a shy-type smile that wouldn't have fooled anybody, Eric actually smiled back at her.

It made me sick to my stomach, and I went on into the dining room for breakfast. Will was there. When I sat down, he went into one of those "good-dog" acts, trying to make up. Well, maybe "good-dog" didn't fit this time. He was pretty blunt and outspoken.

"No call for that stuck-up brat to go around making dirty digs at people like she did," he remarked. He didn't raise his head... simply spoke around a mouthful of cereal and shoveled in another bite.

"What?"

"That stupid Nancy. She's a squid."

"What's a squid?"

He glanced up, then, an expression of lofty pity there to irritate me. "What Nancy is," he said.

My conversation with Mark came back to me. I had to try to be nicer to Will. "Thank you for caring," I told him softly. "It makes it a lot easier to ignore her."

He choked on the bite he was swallowing. "Huh? Thank you?"

"Well, nobody else cared enough to think about how nasty she was being!"

"I..." He looked confused and maybe a little upset, as if it screwed everything up for somebody to do something besides yell at him. "Well... nobody stops and thinks how rough it was for you and Mark to have both your ma and pa killed at once. I mean, they ain't lookin' at what it's like when you gotta support your kid brother. The establishment don't make no allowances for that kind of cases. You're on your own like everybody else. And if they c'n get their hooks into you, screw you!"

I didn't like all that talk about the establishment. It was like saying something bad about the flag, almost. "I don't know that I understand that part about the establishment. I mean, what have I got to do with that?" Maybe if I led him on a little I could show him where he was going wrong.

"When you got time someday, I'll explain." He was starting to sound superior again, like that type usually does when you pin them down.

"Why not this morning?" I asked. "I've got some time after breakfast."

"Aww... There would just be somebody interrupting and making a big noise and not knowing what they were talking about."

"No! Come visit me! We can sit on the sun porch and watch the people down below and talk without anybody bothering us!" He wasn't going to get away with any old excuse! If I could force him to talk sense just once he'd see what silly slogans he was mouthing.

He acted as if I'd trapped him. "Naw. Mark wouldn't understand me trying to make you see. And then he'd go around telling everybody all about it and laughing."

"He's going fishing with a couple of the kids down the street. He won't be there."

"Hmph." Will was as contemptuous of fishing for channel cats in the river as he was of the establishment. "Well... okay! I'll come up! Only you don't really want to know."

"You'll see." I knew he was preparing himself -- making excuses ahead of time for the fact he didn't have anything to back up the meaningless phrases he'd learned.

But he did come up. When he rapped on the door and I opened it, I glanced up the hall to see if anybody was there to notice and breathed a sigh of relief nobody was. As nasty-minded as people were getting to be, no telling what they'd say if they saw him coming into my apartment. I let him in and closed the door fast. And just to be sure, after I motioned him through to the sun porch, I locked the door so nobody would come in without knocking.

For just a second or two, I stood there with my hand on the lock, a strange tingle going over me. There was something appealing about Will in spite of his disagreeable personality. He acted as if under all his bluster he was as naive and inexperienced as Mark. He was only a little older, and if everybody reacted to him the way we did at Ma's, there wouldn't have been much of a way for him to have any experiences. I let myself wonder for an instant if his foreskin would be as tight and unmanageable as Mark's had been if a girl were to try it, then shook off the notion and scolded myself. For Christ's sake get a hold of yourself! I thought. Just because he's a male and you've got him alone with you in your apartment doesn't mean you've got to teach him how to fuck! This isn't the Bijou! Don't be a slut!

So I went out and sat with Will and watched people going by below and listened to him. He didn't have any better idea what he was talking about than I'd expected. All he knew was the slogans and catch phrases.

But he did keep glancing at my boobies out of the comer of his eye, and for the first time I didn't feel dirty about his looking at me. It kept coming back to me that it was lack of love that made him such a mean, nasty kid. And I kept drifting back to the idea one person could wipe out all of that aloneness and hurt.

CHAPTER FOUR

Thinking about how close he was to Mark's age and how all alone he was and how Ma never did anything but pick on him, I got all motherly and tender toward him. He wasn't acting the way he usually did; not all smart-ass and know-it-all. He did try to explain the rebellious way he felt. And he did get uncomfortable when some of the things came out sounding pretty hollow. But most of his sincerity most likely was because I listened and didn't shoot him down every time he made a statement.

Pretty soon, when both of us knew he'd said everything he knew, he looked at me real solemn-like and shook his head. His voice was so low I could hardly hear what he said. "How come you're so different, Lee? You ain't a bit like anybody else I know." And then, his face kind of working, "Mark sure is lucky."

I didn't know what to say. I didn't say anything right away, but just looked into those black eyes of his and let the misery behind them soak into me. Then I realized he was going to embarrass himself by letting his lip quiver if I kept looking at him that way. A fifteen-year-old was terribly young and vulnerable, I reminded myself. He might be grown-up enough to screw, physically, but he was still a little boy mentally.

"You had something important to say," I replied as softly as he'd asked. "I wanted to understand. Besides, it's important what you believe."

That was the wrong thing to say, I guess. Suggesting he was important to anybody but himself cracked the shell he'd spent so long building around himself. His eyes glistened and I knew he had tears in them. On impulse, moving before I knew I was going to, I went to him and stood beside his chair cradling his head against my belly. He sat real rigid for a minute and then his shoulders started to shake. I didn't say anything or do anything, except my fingertips sort of rubbed the side of his head. And before long the shaking stopped and his arm slid around me at hip level. His arm was squeezing my ass-cheeks and his hand was on my thigh and sudden, jagged knives of desire were slashing through me.

He was still young enough to teach, I realized. He'd appreciate it like Marky did, I thought. He'd be all big-eyed and breathless. And he's got a young, tender, smooth-headed cock like Mark's. I rubbed my love mound on his shoulder and rubbed the side of his head harder with my fingers. And I bent so one boob rested against his forehead and hung in front of his eyes.

With the contact, everything in me turned on. Pleasure made my stomach flutter and sent hard tingles shooting into my nipples and brought an abrupt, twitching tautness to my pussy. My mouth watered at the thought of that sweet, uneducated young peter hiding in his pants. He was bitter and lonely, but he could melt the bitterness and wash away the loneliness in the delicious closeness I could teach him.

I rubbed my tit on his face, the soft, hot flesh scraping against the layers of cloth separating his flesh from mine. And I thrilled to his quick response as his hand dipped to the short hem of my skirt and slid up my thigh.

"Just rest, sweetie," I whispered. "There're ways of being not lonely."

"Gawddamn!" he exclaimed with an awed tone. "You for real?"

"You made love before?"

"Me? Uh... well..."

"Don't tell me, sweetie. I don't want to know that." He hadn't. His hesitation told me that. And it wasn't fair to make him say so. But he was a virgin, just as Mark had been. I was going to be the one who taught him.

I unbuttoned my blouse and pulled it free of my skirt. And I continued to bend over him while I reached behind my back to unfasten my bra, my hands under the blouse. I shrugged out of blouse and bra quickly and rubbed my bare tit in his face for a moment, then stepped back. I let him stare, knowing whatever he'd seen of boobies had either been in pictures kids had with them or through crevices where curtains hadn't quite cut off the view. He gawked. His tongue worked at his lips and his knuckles whitened as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

"Man, what pretty knockers!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "Real gone jugs!"

"Feel them. Come over here and feel them." I dropped into my chair again and leaned back like a duchess. He came to me, kneeling beside the chair and feeling the round, warm smoothness of one boob. His fingers explored the rubbery, moist surface of the nipple, rolling it between them and pulling it outward a little to see it stretch. The front of his pants bulged, tenting over the hard-on inside.

I twisted my shoulders to present the other tit. "Don't make this one jealous," I warned him. "Always be fair when you're playing with boobies."

He gulped and shifted his position until he could reach with both hands. "Cripes, Lee! They're all soft and mushy!"

"Huh! Mushy!"

"Aw, shit! You know what I mean! Firm, but the inside stuff sort of slides out from under my hands! You know! I didn't really mean mushy!"

I giggled and sighed. He was going to be fun to teach. The student who was afraid he'd make his teacher mad was the kind who tried hardest.

I touched the bump in his pants with one fingertip and he jerked back convulsively. His face reddened and he squirmed. I felt dizzy with power as I pushed myself to my feet. There wasn't any question about who was boss. He might be a rebel on the street, but on my sun porch he was being humble and cautious. He was scared to death of me and of making a fool of himself.

I unzipped my skirt and slid it over my half-slip. His eyes bugged at the way the white nylon of the slip hugged my hips and cupped in at my crotch. His Adam's apple bobbed spasmodically. Stepping out of the skirt, I stretched the elastic in the waistband of the half-slip and began to wriggle out of the garment.

He groaned. "Cripes, Lee! Something's gonna give!"

I chuckled lightly. "Sure, sweetie. I am."

"Nnnn!"

The slip came off my hips to reveal sheer green panties. At the crotch, one strand of dark hair had escaped and curled against the pale cloth. Will stared open-mouthed at it and made a light, whimpering sound in his throat.

Gaily, I began to roll down the top of the panties. When they stretched in a taut line across my lower belly, pubic hair peeping over them, I reached down and slid the slip off my thighs. I made sure he could see clearly while I lifted one leg, then the other, out of the clinging garment. And I made a work of art working the panties down to expose my pussy. The crotch was darkened by the pussy-juice I'd already oozed, and I knew he was seeing a pink, glistening set of pussy-lips through the veil of my curling, thick brush.

I stood before him, then, still wearing my self-supporting stockings and high heels. He was shaking like an old man. Even his hips were jerking. I turned all the way around for him, letting him feast his eyes on the delicate, clean curves and tantalizing mounds.

"Give you an appetite, sweetie?" I asked gently.

"I dunno about no appetite," he grumbled, "but I'm gonna have hot nuts pretty quick!"

"Well take care of that. Now, it's your turn. Why don't you get undressed for me?"

"Oh, cripes! What if somebody comes, Lee?"

"We're both going to cum, sweetie!"

"Aw, shit! I mean..."

I let my laughter tinkle around him. "I know what you mean. Nobody's going to come in. The door's locked."

I thought I saw a strange light flicker in his eyes, but it was gone so fast I decided it was my imagination. His fingers fumbled with his clothes. I thought he never was going to get them off! But he finally did, and when he pulled down his shorts, his cock leaped erect with such violence I could hear it slap his belly.

He had more body hair than Mark. He was going to be a hairy man, I could see, and he already had a good start. What made it more obvious was his hair was a glossy black. That made it look thicker than it really was. He gave his clothes a healthy kick and sent them flying into a corner. His face a study in embarrassment, he quieted his fidgeting and faced me. His fists were clenched and tight at his sides while his cock trembled in front of his belly. We faced each other silently while he slowly overcome his embarrassment by appraising me. When I'd heated up to the steaming point under his stare, I backed him to one of the straight chairs and pushed him onto it. I was quaking inside; taking the aggressive role with a fifteen-year-old was a whole lot different from babying the twelve-year-olds Mr. Goldstein had made me teach.

But I hid my growing terror behind a bold, brazen exterior. With a knowing smile, I placed my hands on his shoulders and slowly inched toward him, straddling his legs. He was having obvious trouble getting his breath and his cock quivered, it was so hard. He laid his hands on my hips, his eyes wide with concern over making the wrong move, and I kept moving in until my pussy-hair flattened on his belly. My position was awkward; I had to bend my knees outward sharply or spread my feet at a horrible angle because of the way the chair seat wedged my legs apart that close in. And if I spread my feet as far as I'd have to, I'd be forced to put too much of my weight on him. So I kept my knees out and my feet in and stood on tiptoe.

My boobies hung right in his face, and he held his head still, as if it were carved out of stone. An imp of perversity got hold of me. I twisted my shoulders gently from side to side, making first one tit and then the other bump his cheek. He colored again, but he began to get the idea, turning his head to press his face to one boob or the other. I drew back just a little and positioned one boobie in front of his face, the nipple brushing his lips.

Once again, he froze up.

"Go ahead! Kiss it!" I said.

He gulped and kissed it. The way he jerked back and the expression in his face, I was sure he hadn't ever gotten his mouth on a tit before. He kissed the pink, wrinkled lump again, his lips tightly together like a kid who's kissing somebody for the first time. Then, with a quick glance into my face, he touched the velvety button with the tip of his tongue.

"Ooh! Feels funny!" he exclaimed.

"Try getting it between your lips," I suggested. Christ, isn't this kid ever going to thaw? I wondered.

He obeyed. His lips closed on the quivering, eager nubbin and he worked it back and forth in them, getting used to the feel. I felt the tip of his tongue exploring the puckered end of the nipple and quick little thrills of pleasure began to well inward. It seemed to take him forever, but he gradually warmed to the action. Without my having to tell him, he started sucking. And the moment he did, the nipple began to swell. The puckering vanished, every hollow filling with newly-turgid flesh, and the lump thrust outward from the face of my boob. The way his tongue began to caress the sides of the nipple, I knew he could tell the sudden difference.

He was getting over his shyness, too. His hands slipped around from my hips onto my firm, rounded, smooth ass-cheeks. He squeezed with his fingers and wiggled the warm mounds, pulling them apart and closing them together. And to my surprise, his fingers worked gradually toward the center and into my ass-crack.

The composure of the teacher deserted me; by taking the initiative, he was arousing my femininity and producing the deep, inner excitement that comes from mental awareness of sex rather than simply from external stimulus. I felt my pussy writhing with hungry, gulping motion and my thighs tightened and trembled. I let myself down onto his lap and leaned back to keep my boobies at an angle where he could continue sucking at them. And I put my feet on the upper rungs of the chair, my knees angling out further, and pulled myself closer so my pussy rode against the cylinder of his cock-shaft.

He was becoming increasingly self-confident. "Hey, Lee! We're gonna fuck, ain't we?"

"You think this was a tea party?" I giggled. "Of course, we're going to fuck!"

"Mmmm!" He squeezed my ass-cheeks and lifted me.

Sliding down on the chair, his ass going out to the front edge of the seat, he got his cock under me. He maneuvered it until his cockhead, pulsing and ready, was touching my steamy slit. And he let go with his hands.

I didn't settle onto his cock... not yet. "Wait, sweetie!" I protested. "Just a minute. Okay?"

"Uh... what for?"

I grinned. "Secret."

He looked disappointed and suspicious, but he grunted assent.

I got my feet on the floor, struggling to keep from impaling myself on his waiting cock, and backed off him. Pushing his knees apart, I knelt between them.

"Hey! Whatchya doin'?"

"Sweetie, a man's got to know he's not just a stick for a woman to screw herself onto!"

"Huh?" He sounded as if he thought I was crazy

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Fuck trip on the bus

The bus wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be. I had a whole row to myself. I always thought a bus was louder but there was just a soothing rumble coming from the engine. The seats were large and comfortable. I was very happy about t ..continue reading

Scat service

I hurry home after work. It's Friday, rent day. I pay my rent twice a week to my landlord. His name is Jerry, and he collects rent on Tuesday and Friday. I made the deal and I keep it every time. I enjoy rent day. And besides I really need to pay ..continue reading

THE WIFE DOES DOGS

"You'll have to keep Rex here in the cabin, darling," Carson Smith said to his wife. "If the white stag gets the scent of a dog, I'll never get close enough to photograph him." Catherine turned from the primitive iron stove, where she was making cof ..continue reading

Sex on the train

Finally, a day off, Eartis thought to him self. On my way to the city on the B.A.R.T train, man, these fares are high. Let me get my ticket, before I talk my self out of this. Can’t wait to smell the sea breeze and eat the food. San Francisco is kn ..continue reading

What a talent!

Along with going forward or publishing short erotica stories, in a book. I have other business ventures; in which I hope take off soon. I want to thank you for taking your time to read this story and leaving your thoughts and comments. I want to know ..continue reading

A true story of how my wife was gangbanged

In the mid 1980's I was in the military and stationed in North Carolina along with my wife and young son. We had been married about ten years and were in our early forties. My wife is Thai, 5'2" with a stunning figure and long waist length black ..continue reading