Freshman Nymph CH-6
CHAPTER SIX
"You've got your keys, haven't you, Beck?" Marjie suddenly asked as the
two girls walked along the street en route to the house where the party
would be held. "I came back to get mine, and would you believe, 1 forgot
them?"
Becky wasn't paying much attention. Her eyes kept stealing down her
front to gaze at the tantalizing exposure of her nipples. She wondered if
the guys at the party would think she was just a slut for showing herself
off. And she was once more afraid. Even though she knew that in her own
eyes she was truly lovely, she wondered if the people at the party would
think she was funny-looking. How had she let Marjie talk her into going?
It was all because of the weakness of her mind, of her inhibitions, all the
result of that incredible moment in which she had first let her finger
slide into her young pussy and discovered the joys of which it was capable.
It was dark by now, and the streets of town were full of young college
students celebrating their return to campus. Becky's spirits jumped
considerably as she realized that guys were actually staring at her and
Marjie when they strode past. Her chin lifted, and she drew her shoulders
back, raising the angle of her breasts under the thin fabric of the
jumpsuit top. She had once dreamed that perhaps going to college might
mean the start of a whole new life for her, but now she was beginning to
think her dream might indeed come true.
The walk was a long one, but Becky was in splendid condition and it
didn't leave her panting the way it did her plump roommate. Marjie stopped
to catch her breath at the near end of the block the party was on, and she
spoke to Becky.
"Listen to me, doll," she said, "and listen close. Okay, I dragged you
out of the dorm and made you come with me tonight. I did it because I
thought you needed to kill that inferiority complex those assholes back in
your home town stuck you with. But understand this before you go in.
These k**s are with it, and they may seem kinda wild to you. There'll be
dope and booze and probably k**s going upstairs to ball every now and then.
But they're not a****ls. Nobody is gonna make you do anything you don't
wanta do. Anybody gives you a hard rush or a rough time, tell me and I'll
make sure his ass gets thrown out. So have a good time tonight and"--she
smiled--"let your conscience be your guide."
Marjie tapped on the door and it opened to them. Even before they had
stepped onto the porch of the small rented house, Becky had been able to
hear the music playing inside. It was loud rock, and the rhythms set her
toes tapping.
"Come on in," said a tall guy with long hair. Becky realized suddenly
that this was the boy she had seen Marjie with last night in the dorm room,
and she tingled delightedly with wicked knowledge as she shook his hand.
Marjie introduced him as Jerry.
The living room was lit by a dozen enormous candies set here and there,
and it was, or at least seemed to be, full of bodies sprawled there, there
and everywhere--on the couch, on the floor. When her eyes had grown
accustomed to the dimness of the light, Becky saw that there were no more
than perhaps fifteen people here.
She sniffed suddenly. There was a strange sweetish aroma in the air,
intermixed with tobacco smoke and the scented candles. Her eyes drifted
hither and thither. She could see now that people were clustered in small
groups and that each group was passing a strange object back and forth
among its members. They were smoking it, and it appeared to be a pipe, but
it certainly didn't look like the old briar Ted's father used to favor.
Angrily she dismissed Ted and his father and everything else in
Fayetteville from her mind.
Marjie and Jerry were walking across the floor to join one of the
groups, and Becky, not knowing what else to do, followed them. She eased
herself onto the floor beside Marjie, thankful inside that the light was
too dim to reveal how visible her tits were in the borrowed outfit.
Marjie introduced her round the circle. There was Jerry, of course, and
there was Sam, who shared the house with him. They were both juniors and
had that romantic long-haired look so common on campuses today. And there
was Jerry's cousin Bill, who was a freshman too, and with him a pretty girl
with very long hair. Her name was Cathy and she had remarkable haunted
eyes, deep-set in her head, that seemed as if they could bore a hole right
through you when she stared your way. Cathy was a senior in the high
school here in Henderson. That shocked Becky very much, even though she
was only a year older herself. When she'd been a high school senior she'd
never have dreamed of coming to a party like this where d**gs were being
used. Indeed, she very nearly hadn't come tonight at all.
Sam leaned across the circle and handed Becky the pipe. She looked at
it wonderingly, touched the brass bowl and pulled her finger away very
quickly. The metal was hot.
"I'll light it for you," Sam smiled. "You can have the first bit off
this batch. It's our best."
Becky looked at him as he struck a match and lifted his hand to poise it
above the pipe bowl. She looked at the pipe, noted the thin blades of
marijuana in its loaded chamber. It hovered at her lips. The match was
drawing nearer. Her eyes flickered to Marjie and the message she saw there
seemed clear enough: Go ahead. It won't hurt you. Honest. So said her
roomie's face. Becky put the pipe stem in her mouth. She knew that she
had to puff on it to cause the flame to catch, so she puffed.
"No," Sam grinned. "Not like that. You gotta take a hit and suck it
all the way into your belly." He took the pipe and toked heavily. "Like
this," he said, speaking around the inhaled grass. His words were
tight-throated and very soft.
"It's just like getting flicked," Cathy volunteered. "It's no good
unless you've got it all the way in." She giggled and collapsed against
Bill's arm. His hand cupped one of her large tits through her
weather-beaten sweatshirt. She giggled again and rose with him. Her hand
around his waist, his on her tit, they made their way up the stairs at the
back of the room.
"Here," Sam was telling her. "You wanna try it again?"
Becky took the pipe. The puffs she had taken had really given her no
idea what marijuana was like, beyond the taste on the tip of her tongue.
She looked to Marjie for guidance.
A hand rested on Becky's soft shoulder. Marjie smiled and said, "If you
wanna do it, go ahead. It won't kill you and it won't make you a hard
mainlining junkie. But if you don't wanna do it, don't. It's your choice,
Beck."
"Hasn't she ever smoked before?" she heard Jerry ask in a lowered voice,
as if this were the strangest thing imaginable.
Becky made her decision. She put the pipe in her mouth again and sucked
hard at the glowing load of grass, drew it into her mouth, deep into her
lungs, all the way to the pit of her belly. She held it as long as she
could, and when she released it almost no surplus smoke came from her lips.
"Good hit," Jerry said approvingly.
Becky tried to speak but her mouth was very, very dry. She made a
croaking noise and Marjie spoke up quickly.
"She needs something to drink." Then to Becky, "It usually happens the
first time or two you smoke. Nothing to worry about."
A glass materialized in front of Becky, containing a dark reddish
liquid. She took it with thanks and drank a hearty swallow. It was sweet
and tangy but she couldn't place the taste. "Ummm," she said. "This is
good. What is it?"
"Boone's Farm," Sam said. Then, seeing that she didn't follow him,
added, "Wine. Alcoholic soda pop, somebody called it."
So, she thought brazenly, tonight Becky Ryan turns into a real slut
after all. Not only was she wearing a suit that exposed her nipples to
anyone who cared to look, she had also taken her first puff of marijuana
and her first drink of alcoholic beverage. Funny. She still felt the same
Becky inside. A little daring, perhaps, but these people didn't seem to
think anything of it. And, she thought with a start, what about those k**s
who went upstairs. I'll bet they're fucking each other. Right now!
The pipe had been smoked out and Becky was on her second glass of wine.
Jerry and Marjie were nowhere to be seen, but Becky was much more
interested in talking to Sam. He had such fascinating things to say. He
was the first person she had ever met who thought President Nixon was unfit
to hold office, and she listened with wide eyes to his explanations of why
he held such opinions. And he knew all about music, too! He told her
about groups she'd never heard of, singers who created beautiful songs that
were unsung as far as she was concerned.
"Listen," he said. "There." A country singer was on the record player
right now. He had a masculine baritone voice and an instrumental backup
that was nearly as much folk as country and western. "That's the guy I
mentioned," Sam explained. "Tom T. Hall. He can tell you more about life
in two and a half minutes than any of the politicians in Washington or any
preacher anywhere can in a year."
Becky listened to the song very carefully. Her parents had never cared
for country music, and she had never been exposed to it. Now she was
paying close attention to the lyrics, for the melody was little more than a
vehicle for recitation. It was about a small-time country singer who has
just come home for a short visit with his father, and in the course of the
song she could see, plain as sudden lightning, how with a few deft images,
Hall had laid bare the whole empty pattern of the young man's life. She
knew as she listened that the singer he was writing about would never be
any more than a small-time has-been (or never-was), breaking off ties with
what had meant most to him at one time in pursuit of a success he could
never find.
"That's really beautiful," she said thoughtfully when the song had
ended. "I've never beard anything quite like that."
"Hall is really great," Sam agreed. "I don't agree with everything he
has to say, but you can't get around his talent. Haven't you ever heard of
him before?"
Becky shook her head. "Has he been around very long?"
"Six or seven years anyway. Hey, tell you what. If nobody's in my
bedroom, come on up. I've got a little stereo up there, and most of my
records, and I'll play you some more of his stuff. Okay?"
"I'd love to hear some more of his things," she smiled, and she followed
him up the stairs. He tapped on the door and there was no answer, so she
commented, "I guess there mustn't be any occupants."
"Guess not," he agreed, and they went inside. Sam turned on the light
and began to rummage through a pile of record albums on the floor, coming
up with several LPs. He set up his record machine and put one on to play.
It was Tom T. Hall again, and Becky found comfort in the resonant, rural
quality of his strong voice. Sam Indicated for her to sit down on his bed,
and she did. He nestled on the floor beside her dangling feet, taking from
his pocket the pipe and a plastic bag filled with what she now knew was
marijuana.
"Like some wine, too?" he asked. She nodded, for she had grown fond of
the taste of the new liquid, so Sam got up and went out. He came back in a
moment with a bottle dripping wet and cold. "We don't need glasses," he
volunteered. "We can just take hits back and forth. Its no less sanitary
than a communal pipe, is it?" She giggled in reply and be handed her the
bottle.
As they shared the pipe and wine, time seemed to enter a new dimension
for Becky. Hall's voice, too, was a part of that new consciousness.
Sometimes he seemed to be singing very fast, almost like a cartoon
chipmunk, sometimes very slowly, like a tolling cathedral bell. Strangest
of all, though, she never lost track of what he was saying in his songs.
She giggled properly when he sang about a monkey that became president,
giggled even more when Sam, at her feet, said "That's a true story-it
happened in 1968 and 1972." She felt a shiver of identification, she knew
not why, when he sang a long story about a man who got tired of being
ridiculed by his neighbors and one day took a gun and went out and shot
seven of them. And she felt closest of all to Tom T.'s songs about
women--"Ravishing Ruby," the truck stop waitress who was only looking for a
father in the men she drifted among; or Pamela Brown, the girl who didn't
marry the narrator of one song and so left him free to do all the exciting
things he'd found himself able to do. Would Ted think about her someday
and cast her in similar recollection? She hoped not. She hoped he kicked
himself in the ass every day for the rest of his life, thinking what a
bastard he was to do what he did to her.
Strange how she was feeling. Her bead was light and giddy, and even
though her throat wasn't dry she kept on gulping at the bottle Sam handed
her from time to time. Her belly felt all warm and tingly inside, and her
brain was dancing a gavotte to the music of a faraway orchestra.
And Hall was singing now about a beautiful girl married to a man whose
brain had collapsed on him, and there wasn't a trace of criticism in his
voice as ho told about how she gave her heart to Jethro and her body to
everyone else. Something in his words, something the girl is supposed to
say, about how her body was Jethro's but--how did she say it?--her
God-given body was all hers--Becky suddenly empathized very closely with
the song. She took another long deep toke on the pipe, and another, and
another....
* * * *
The only music playing now was somewhere in her mind. She was lying
back on the bed, her feet hanging over the edge, and the record player was
silent, and Sam was lying next to her. His prick lay like a long soft
snake, crawled through his zipper opening. Its head pointed toward her.
Awareness hit her slowly. His hand was stroking her soft hair, petting it
like a beautiful kitten, and his head was close to hers. She had her hand
on his chest, just rubbing at his shirt front.
The effect of what she had smoked and drunk was wearing off now, and she
looked around her in surprise. Her eyes fell upon his exposed penis and
she stiffened in fright. Sam's hand, lying on her tresses, felt the change
in her body attitude and his stroking fell off.
"What's wrong?" he asked in a low husky voice.
"Your thing," she whispered. "You've got it out!"
"Correction," he suggested. "You've got it out. I didn't lay a finger
on it"
She went goggle-eyed. "Me?" she said in a voice almost too soft and low
to hear.
"You."
"What on earth for?"
"You said something about your God-given body being your own. I figured
you wanted to play with it, so I let you fish it loose."
"Did I--play with it?" she asked breathlessly.
"A little."
Becky clutched both hands across her breasts. Her mind was in an
uproar. Could she have done such a thing of her own volition? A
stranger--a boy she'd lust met this evening--take his penis out of his
pants and--finger and fondle it? Becky Ryan? Suspicion clouded her
thoughts. Was he lying to her? Was he trying to take advantage of her
when she was not in control of herself? Marjie had promised her that no
one would dare try such a thing, but Sam lived here. Who would throw him
out if he misbehaved? More likely it would be presumptuous of Becky, the
party guest, who would be tossed out on her ear for rejecting the overtures
of her host.
"Are you telling me the truth?" she demanded, a slight tinge of hostile
suspicion flavoring her trembling voice. "Did I really?"
"Stay cool, Beck," he smiled. "Marjie caught me when I was downstairs
getting the wine, and she told me that if I tried any dirty stuff with you,
she'd cut my balls off with a dull knife. I've got plans for using those
things the rest of my life, so I wouldn't try to cross her on anything.
Besides, I like you too. I didn't bring you up here to try for a piece.
If you wanta go, it's okay with me. I mean, you were out of it for a while
and I just went along with you."
Becky was touched by what he said. She pulled gently at the front of
his shirt once more. "Honest?"
"Honest," he smiled. "And by the way. You don't have to worry about
whether guys think you're ugly. They sure as hell don't. And not all of
us are like the one Marjie told me about." He saw the look on her face and
followed hastily with, "I'm sorry, Beck--I didn't mean to bring up nasty
memories."
"It's all right," she said. "It doesn't bother me any more. Say," she
went on. "Would you mind very much if I did--kinda--play with your thing?"
And before he could answer yes or no, she bad taken the limp snake between
thumb and forefinger, bouncing it up and down, giggling at its flopping.
"Do you want to?" he asked warningly.
"I think so," she replied, her fist closing round his cock as she felt
it respond to her caresses. It began to stiffen in her grip, it grew
harder, longer, thrusting out of her clench like a proud tree. It was warm
in her hand, yet with the stiffness of wood. Inquisitively she let her
fist slide up and down its shaft.
A droplet of come appeared in the slit at the tip of his cockhead. It
looked just like water as it hung there before sliding its way down the
underside of his prick to drip on Becky's thumb.
"Are you gonna shoot out all that stuff?" she asked.
He nodded. "If you keep that up very long I sure will."
"Golly," Becky giggled like a schoolgirl. "Marilyn will shoot me if I
get it all over her jumpsuit. Maybe I better take it off." And with that
she released his cock, got to her feet, and put a finger to the zipper that
ran down the front of the borrowed outfit. Leisurely she pulled the zipper
down, opening the front of her costume; then just as leisurely she slipped
the garment off her shoulders, baring her young tits to his gaze. He
whistled as he saw them, his eyes lighting as they took in the pink
perfection of her nipples. She worked her way out of the jumpsuit and,
clad in her panties alone, returned to the bed.
His hands touched her tentatively, rubbing the smooth pink of her
shoulders, sliding down her ribs, cupping her slim waist. He stroked her
belly between navel and panty waistband, and felt her thrusting against him
as he did so. Through the thin white nylon of her undies he drew a hand
across the tightness of her high young ass, marveled at its springy
resilience. Sam touched her bared thighs, tickled a fingertip along their
inner curves, making her laugh sweetly with the stimulation.
Last of all he dared reach a finger to her tits. His finger aimed for
the pink nipple of her left breast, halted tantalizingly just beyond its
point, then knew wondrous joy as he felt her nip extending itself to touch
ever so softly the ball of his finger. Admiringly he let a palm cup that
breast then, hoisting its perfect orb.
"God," he sighed. He couldn't stop himself then. His head dipped,
kissed a nipple, then sucked the point into his mouth. He nursed her dry
tit, leaving little drops of saliva on the pink when he pulled away.
"Do you like them?" she whispered.
"Uh-huh," he confirmed.
"They're not too little?"
"Anything over a handful is wasted," he told her. "And yours were just
made to be handheld."
And then his mouth covered hers and his body lay partially across hers,
the shirt he wore rubbing her bare chest, his pocket buttons twiddling her
nipples. She quivered and squirmed, digging her ass into the surface of
the bed, shoving her breasts against him hard as she could. Her hands were
round his neck, curling his long hair, stroking his spine.
At last he broke away from her lips. "Do you still want me to play with
your--cock?" she asked, her lips forming the word that surprised her so
much when she said it.
"I can think of something I'd rather do," he answered, hand once more
clutching a tit.
Her reply was to unfasten his belt. Sam got the message and he fairly
leaped from the bed, clothes falling like autumn leaves in a windstorm.
When he rejoined her he was nude, and the only article of clothing between
the two of them was the pair of white panties Becky still wore.
"Do you want to?" he asked her, his hands just beginning to tug at her
waistband. He wanted her so badly he could taste his lust but be would not
force her. If she was willing, they could fuck. If she said no, he would
help her dress and take her downstairs as untouched as when she came up.
Becky's head still swam with the wine she had drunk, the weed she had
smoked. She put a hand on one of her lovely breasts, felt its rigid
nipple. Beneath the white nylon of her panties there was moistness,
anticipation. Her eyes blinked a time or two, then shut tightly as she
reached a finger to the steel-hard length of Sam's cock. Her finger
touched it, rubbed the dark purple head, came away dewy with the droplets
of semen that were already appearing from time to time in his ejaculatory
opening.
"Yes," she spoke suddenly, "yes, yes, yes!" and she rolled onto her
back, thighs open, the flanges of bet cuntal flower opening under the thin
guarding veil of her undies. Her crotch was wet, a dark colorless stain
dampening her white panties. She felt Sam's fingers tug suddenly at that
last barrier, and she raised her ass from the bed to give him assistance in
completing the task of undressing her.
His mouth covered hers and he lay atop her, heavy, hard, demanding. She
wrapped arms round him and clutched him to her trembling breasts, hoping to
still the mad desire that begged now for satisfaction.
Sam broke away from her now, and she reached for him with arms that
clung like tendrils, not wanting to lose what he had promised to give her.
He sat himself down on the bed, his back against the bedhead, his Legs
outstretched, his cock pointing upward like a telephone pole. She crawled
to him, and he put his arms on her shoulders and guided her.
"Do it this way," he mumbled, and she let him direct her. Her back to
the boy, Becky squatted above his middle, the red point of his cock just
touching the blonde fuzz round her pussy. She moved from side to side,
teasing his prick with the friction of her cunt hair, giggling excitedly,
until she felt his hands-take firm control of her waist. Becky relaxed at
once, cooing at his strong touch. He braced one hand on her waist and
slipped the other round the shaft of his dick, guiding it to the pink lips
of her love tunnel.
She felt the blood-gorged head of him touching her cunt lips, knocking
at the door as it were, and she strained to spread herself a little to
allow him easy entrance. The petals of her flower parted and his prick
began to slide inside her. Becky gasped softly, but the pain she had felt
with Ted's rough flicking was absent now. Instead she knew delightful
friction as his cockhead teased at her opening slit. It brushed her
sensitive pussy lips, made her give a little ticklish trill of enjoyment.
Sam didn't have to **** the lovely freshman girl. He was an experienced
lover and he knew that fucking was most satisfactory for both partners when
it was gentle and unrushed.
With preliminary entrance made, Sam was free to let go his cock. It
could find its own way into Becky now that it had been shown the path. He
let the released hand slide up Becky's side, to her armpit, rubbing softly
the shaven area there. She tightened her arm on his fingers, pressing them
into her moist axilla. He fought his way free of her squeeze and worked
his fingers round to cup a small lovely breast. She squirmed as he fondled
her nipple and teased delicately the underside of her little mound, and her
head was swaying from side to side. The tantalization of his partial
penetration, of his casually exploring fingers was too much for her.
"Please," she whispered, her lips trembling, spittle forming at the
corners of her mouth. "Fuck me now. I can't wait another second."
And before he could react to her sudden demand, she had taken the
initiative herself, pressing her body down upon his strong cock. The
still-tight lips of her cunt parted as she forced her way down, and there
was a momentary thrill of beautiful agony before she could accommodate
herself to his presence. And then the agony gave way to glorious
sensation.
Her cunt sucked hungrily at the new visitor, drawing it deeper and
deeper of its own accord. Becky shoved herself down on Sam, pulling nearly
all his length inside her. A joyous shriek burst from her lips as she
eased all the way down upon him, embedding him totally inside her vaginal
tunnel. She sat upon his cock for a long, long moment, drawing emotion she
had never been able to imagine, joy indescribable, as she experienced the
presence of his immersion. Juices flowed round the staff of his prick,
wetting it, wetting her, and she wiggled upon him to scoot his cock round
and round in her lubrication.
"You okay?" Sam asked considerately, his hands still touching her
nipples, clutching her waist.
Becky nodded In determination, her hair bouncing up and down with the
force of her gesture.
"All right, then," Sam smiled. "Let's go!"
Becky gurgled in surprised excitement then as Sam lurched upward,
driving at her. His balls rubbed the splayed slice of her cunt, and she
jumped in delight. And beneath her Sam was shoving up and down, trying to
imbed himself in her tight cunt. She got the message and started to
vibrate and bob on his impalement. He worked his hips in counterpoint to
hers, and as she moved up and down, up and down, she felt the rigid shape
of his tool moving inside her newly educated pussy.
The tickling sensation that affected her labia whenever he moved was
breathtaking, and Becky looked down her front to see her left lit quivering
with anticipation as her heart scuttered away Inside her body. She thought
madly that the feeling must be closely akin to that of having your foot
stroked lightly by a feather for hours on end. And she never wanted it to
stop! She jerked herself up and down on his cock, her pussy walls striving
to clutch it as tight as possible. Now it was vital that she be stuffed as
full as she could be. With Ted the dry tightness had been nigh
unendurable, but with Sam she wanted to know that lightness in even more
thrilling measure.
Her mouth was open and her breath husking out of her from the fanatic
determination with which she fucked herself on Sam's stiff cock. She put
her hands on the points of her tits, squeezed the pink nipples viciously,
brushed at a drop of saliva that trailed down her chin uncontrollably,
laughed loudly, maniacally, as she felt the cock shafting into her almost
unused vaginal tract.
Surprise hit Becky like a slap in the mouth when Sam's fingers stole
from her waist and crept into the gold fringe of her cant hair below. She
sighed and "oohed" at his first darting touch, then opened her mouth in a
gasp of excitement as she felt a finger enter the fucked-open gash of her
pussy. As Sam's cock screwed in and out, his finger touched roguishly the
exposed nub of her clitoris. A shudder swept across her humping body, and
each time he felt her love button once more, she fluttered again. Sopping
juices were turning her cunt interior to pasty jelly, and every thrust of
his prick rubbed against a new nerve, sending a fresh message of rapture to
her brain.
Becky pushed her body back against Sam, striving to arch her loins so
that he could the more easily caress her love bump. She spread her
straddled legs till she feared her slice would burst open, but whether it
split or not, she still had to allow him all the more access to her aching
clit. Jacking up and down on his stiff prick, presenting like a Christmas
gift the raw treasure of her femininity, Becky fucked herself like a
madwoman on Sam's jerking cock.
Her eyes drifted round the room, went in and out of focus, settled at
last upon the face of Marjie, standing in the door. Becky blinked two or
three times to assure herself she was indeed being watched, and when she
was sure that Marjie's presence was real and not imaginary, she wheezed out
a greeting.
Marjie stepped across the room with a smile. The knit dress she wore
swished and swirled round her plump thighs as she approached.
"How's it going, Beck?" she grinned, knowing that her blonde roomie was
too far gone to carry on conversation.
Becky panted in reply, squealing suddenly as Sam's fingers rubbed once
more the deliciously tender button. His cock was squishing in and out of
her wet twat as she jerked up and down on his lap, and she could feel it
swelling inside her, just as Ted's had in the moments before it spat its
load.
"I'm gonna come," Sam grunted. "I can't hold it back!" and then he
jerked upward just as Becky thrust down upon him, and he felt his cock
emptying itself. He had no control now. All he could do was to push
against her, burying his entire length in the blonde girl's cunt, shoving
it at her on each squirt of his hot jism.
Becky hovered on the verge of orgasm. Her heart was leaping and her
mind was in turmoil. As Sam emptied himself he continued to rub her
clitty, and she knew as she pressed herself down upon his gushing peter
that something totally new was about to happen to her.
Marjie stood close by, her face near Becky's, her eyes studying the
young girl's strangely distorted features. "Come, Becky, come!" she was
whispering hotly. "You can do it! Let go!" She clenched her hands so
tightly the nails left imprints on her palms. If Becky didn't come soon,
she knew she would jab her finger into the girl's cunt right alongside
Sam's. She had to see that Becky got her rocks off too! It was all part
of that good deed for which she felt so proud of herself.
Becky gasped, and her heart seemed to stop. Her clit seemed large as a
peanut, quivering under Sam's brushing touches, and when he squeezed it
suddenly, his cock still hard inside her though it had spilt its load and
was now working overtime, she shrieked like a banshee.
She jerked herself upward, uncocking herself at once, feeling the sudden
oozing drip of warm wet come from out of her pussy. Becky threw herself
forward onto the bed, lying on her stomach, her legs bent upward at the
knees, her hands beneath her, rubbing at her tummy, sliding down into the
wet patch of golden hair in her delta. She stroked herself as she lay
humping her crotch on the fingers, feeling the liquids that flowed from
her, liquids that she and Sam had conspired to create, and her face looked
toward the wall, seeing nothing. The mighty thumpings of her heart seemed
loud as thunder in her ears, but she could hear very clearly the rustle of
her hair against the bedsheet as she writhed in ecstasy, and she could hear
herself repeating over and over again as she throbbed in the joys of her
first partnered orgasm: "My God-given body is my own!"
"You've got your keys, haven't you, Beck?" Marjie suddenly asked as the
two girls walked along the street en route to the house where the party
would be held. "I came back to get mine, and would you believe, 1 forgot
them?"
Becky wasn't paying much attention. Her eyes kept stealing down her
front to gaze at the tantalizing exposure of her nipples. She wondered if
the guys at the party would think she was just a slut for showing herself
off. And she was once more afraid. Even though she knew that in her own
eyes she was truly lovely, she wondered if the people at the party would
think she was funny-looking. How had she let Marjie talk her into going?
It was all because of the weakness of her mind, of her inhibitions, all the
result of that incredible moment in which she had first let her finger
slide into her young pussy and discovered the joys of which it was capable.
It was dark by now, and the streets of town were full of young college
students celebrating their return to campus. Becky's spirits jumped
considerably as she realized that guys were actually staring at her and
Marjie when they strode past. Her chin lifted, and she drew her shoulders
back, raising the angle of her breasts under the thin fabric of the
jumpsuit top. She had once dreamed that perhaps going to college might
mean the start of a whole new life for her, but now she was beginning to
think her dream might indeed come true.
The walk was a long one, but Becky was in splendid condition and it
didn't leave her panting the way it did her plump roommate. Marjie stopped
to catch her breath at the near end of the block the party was on, and she
spoke to Becky.
"Listen to me, doll," she said, "and listen close. Okay, I dragged you
out of the dorm and made you come with me tonight. I did it because I
thought you needed to kill that inferiority complex those assholes back in
your home town stuck you with. But understand this before you go in.
These k**s are with it, and they may seem kinda wild to you. There'll be
dope and booze and probably k**s going upstairs to ball every now and then.
But they're not a****ls. Nobody is gonna make you do anything you don't
wanta do. Anybody gives you a hard rush or a rough time, tell me and I'll
make sure his ass gets thrown out. So have a good time tonight and"--she
smiled--"let your conscience be your guide."
Marjie tapped on the door and it opened to them. Even before they had
stepped onto the porch of the small rented house, Becky had been able to
hear the music playing inside. It was loud rock, and the rhythms set her
toes tapping.
"Come on in," said a tall guy with long hair. Becky realized suddenly
that this was the boy she had seen Marjie with last night in the dorm room,
and she tingled delightedly with wicked knowledge as she shook his hand.
Marjie introduced him as Jerry.
The living room was lit by a dozen enormous candies set here and there,
and it was, or at least seemed to be, full of bodies sprawled there, there
and everywhere--on the couch, on the floor. When her eyes had grown
accustomed to the dimness of the light, Becky saw that there were no more
than perhaps fifteen people here.
She sniffed suddenly. There was a strange sweetish aroma in the air,
intermixed with tobacco smoke and the scented candles. Her eyes drifted
hither and thither. She could see now that people were clustered in small
groups and that each group was passing a strange object back and forth
among its members. They were smoking it, and it appeared to be a pipe, but
it certainly didn't look like the old briar Ted's father used to favor.
Angrily she dismissed Ted and his father and everything else in
Fayetteville from her mind.
Marjie and Jerry were walking across the floor to join one of the
groups, and Becky, not knowing what else to do, followed them. She eased
herself onto the floor beside Marjie, thankful inside that the light was
too dim to reveal how visible her tits were in the borrowed outfit.
Marjie introduced her round the circle. There was Jerry, of course, and
there was Sam, who shared the house with him. They were both juniors and
had that romantic long-haired look so common on campuses today. And there
was Jerry's cousin Bill, who was a freshman too, and with him a pretty girl
with very long hair. Her name was Cathy and she had remarkable haunted
eyes, deep-set in her head, that seemed as if they could bore a hole right
through you when she stared your way. Cathy was a senior in the high
school here in Henderson. That shocked Becky very much, even though she
was only a year older herself. When she'd been a high school senior she'd
never have dreamed of coming to a party like this where d**gs were being
used. Indeed, she very nearly hadn't come tonight at all.
Sam leaned across the circle and handed Becky the pipe. She looked at
it wonderingly, touched the brass bowl and pulled her finger away very
quickly. The metal was hot.
"I'll light it for you," Sam smiled. "You can have the first bit off
this batch. It's our best."
Becky looked at him as he struck a match and lifted his hand to poise it
above the pipe bowl. She looked at the pipe, noted the thin blades of
marijuana in its loaded chamber. It hovered at her lips. The match was
drawing nearer. Her eyes flickered to Marjie and the message she saw there
seemed clear enough: Go ahead. It won't hurt you. Honest. So said her
roomie's face. Becky put the pipe stem in her mouth. She knew that she
had to puff on it to cause the flame to catch, so she puffed.
"No," Sam grinned. "Not like that. You gotta take a hit and suck it
all the way into your belly." He took the pipe and toked heavily. "Like
this," he said, speaking around the inhaled grass. His words were
tight-throated and very soft.
"It's just like getting flicked," Cathy volunteered. "It's no good
unless you've got it all the way in." She giggled and collapsed against
Bill's arm. His hand cupped one of her large tits through her
weather-beaten sweatshirt. She giggled again and rose with him. Her hand
around his waist, his on her tit, they made their way up the stairs at the
back of the room.
"Here," Sam was telling her. "You wanna try it again?"
Becky took the pipe. The puffs she had taken had really given her no
idea what marijuana was like, beyond the taste on the tip of her tongue.
She looked to Marjie for guidance.
A hand rested on Becky's soft shoulder. Marjie smiled and said, "If you
wanna do it, go ahead. It won't kill you and it won't make you a hard
mainlining junkie. But if you don't wanna do it, don't. It's your choice,
Beck."
"Hasn't she ever smoked before?" she heard Jerry ask in a lowered voice,
as if this were the strangest thing imaginable.
Becky made her decision. She put the pipe in her mouth again and sucked
hard at the glowing load of grass, drew it into her mouth, deep into her
lungs, all the way to the pit of her belly. She held it as long as she
could, and when she released it almost no surplus smoke came from her lips.
"Good hit," Jerry said approvingly.
Becky tried to speak but her mouth was very, very dry. She made a
croaking noise and Marjie spoke up quickly.
"She needs something to drink." Then to Becky, "It usually happens the
first time or two you smoke. Nothing to worry about."
A glass materialized in front of Becky, containing a dark reddish
liquid. She took it with thanks and drank a hearty swallow. It was sweet
and tangy but she couldn't place the taste. "Ummm," she said. "This is
good. What is it?"
"Boone's Farm," Sam said. Then, seeing that she didn't follow him,
added, "Wine. Alcoholic soda pop, somebody called it."
So, she thought brazenly, tonight Becky Ryan turns into a real slut
after all. Not only was she wearing a suit that exposed her nipples to
anyone who cared to look, she had also taken her first puff of marijuana
and her first drink of alcoholic beverage. Funny. She still felt the same
Becky inside. A little daring, perhaps, but these people didn't seem to
think anything of it. And, she thought with a start, what about those k**s
who went upstairs. I'll bet they're fucking each other. Right now!
The pipe had been smoked out and Becky was on her second glass of wine.
Jerry and Marjie were nowhere to be seen, but Becky was much more
interested in talking to Sam. He had such fascinating things to say. He
was the first person she had ever met who thought President Nixon was unfit
to hold office, and she listened with wide eyes to his explanations of why
he held such opinions. And he knew all about music, too! He told her
about groups she'd never heard of, singers who created beautiful songs that
were unsung as far as she was concerned.
"Listen," he said. "There." A country singer was on the record player
right now. He had a masculine baritone voice and an instrumental backup
that was nearly as much folk as country and western. "That's the guy I
mentioned," Sam explained. "Tom T. Hall. He can tell you more about life
in two and a half minutes than any of the politicians in Washington or any
preacher anywhere can in a year."
Becky listened to the song very carefully. Her parents had never cared
for country music, and she had never been exposed to it. Now she was
paying close attention to the lyrics, for the melody was little more than a
vehicle for recitation. It was about a small-time country singer who has
just come home for a short visit with his father, and in the course of the
song she could see, plain as sudden lightning, how with a few deft images,
Hall had laid bare the whole empty pattern of the young man's life. She
knew as she listened that the singer he was writing about would never be
any more than a small-time has-been (or never-was), breaking off ties with
what had meant most to him at one time in pursuit of a success he could
never find.
"That's really beautiful," she said thoughtfully when the song had
ended. "I've never beard anything quite like that."
"Hall is really great," Sam agreed. "I don't agree with everything he
has to say, but you can't get around his talent. Haven't you ever heard of
him before?"
Becky shook her head. "Has he been around very long?"
"Six or seven years anyway. Hey, tell you what. If nobody's in my
bedroom, come on up. I've got a little stereo up there, and most of my
records, and I'll play you some more of his stuff. Okay?"
"I'd love to hear some more of his things," she smiled, and she followed
him up the stairs. He tapped on the door and there was no answer, so she
commented, "I guess there mustn't be any occupants."
"Guess not," he agreed, and they went inside. Sam turned on the light
and began to rummage through a pile of record albums on the floor, coming
up with several LPs. He set up his record machine and put one on to play.
It was Tom T. Hall again, and Becky found comfort in the resonant, rural
quality of his strong voice. Sam Indicated for her to sit down on his bed,
and she did. He nestled on the floor beside her dangling feet, taking from
his pocket the pipe and a plastic bag filled with what she now knew was
marijuana.
"Like some wine, too?" he asked. She nodded, for she had grown fond of
the taste of the new liquid, so Sam got up and went out. He came back in a
moment with a bottle dripping wet and cold. "We don't need glasses," he
volunteered. "We can just take hits back and forth. Its no less sanitary
than a communal pipe, is it?" She giggled in reply and be handed her the
bottle.
As they shared the pipe and wine, time seemed to enter a new dimension
for Becky. Hall's voice, too, was a part of that new consciousness.
Sometimes he seemed to be singing very fast, almost like a cartoon
chipmunk, sometimes very slowly, like a tolling cathedral bell. Strangest
of all, though, she never lost track of what he was saying in his songs.
She giggled properly when he sang about a monkey that became president,
giggled even more when Sam, at her feet, said "That's a true story-it
happened in 1968 and 1972." She felt a shiver of identification, she knew
not why, when he sang a long story about a man who got tired of being
ridiculed by his neighbors and one day took a gun and went out and shot
seven of them. And she felt closest of all to Tom T.'s songs about
women--"Ravishing Ruby," the truck stop waitress who was only looking for a
father in the men she drifted among; or Pamela Brown, the girl who didn't
marry the narrator of one song and so left him free to do all the exciting
things he'd found himself able to do. Would Ted think about her someday
and cast her in similar recollection? She hoped not. She hoped he kicked
himself in the ass every day for the rest of his life, thinking what a
bastard he was to do what he did to her.
Strange how she was feeling. Her bead was light and giddy, and even
though her throat wasn't dry she kept on gulping at the bottle Sam handed
her from time to time. Her belly felt all warm and tingly inside, and her
brain was dancing a gavotte to the music of a faraway orchestra.
And Hall was singing now about a beautiful girl married to a man whose
brain had collapsed on him, and there wasn't a trace of criticism in his
voice as ho told about how she gave her heart to Jethro and her body to
everyone else. Something in his words, something the girl is supposed to
say, about how her body was Jethro's but--how did she say it?--her
God-given body was all hers--Becky suddenly empathized very closely with
the song. She took another long deep toke on the pipe, and another, and
another....
* * * *
The only music playing now was somewhere in her mind. She was lying
back on the bed, her feet hanging over the edge, and the record player was
silent, and Sam was lying next to her. His prick lay like a long soft
snake, crawled through his zipper opening. Its head pointed toward her.
Awareness hit her slowly. His hand was stroking her soft hair, petting it
like a beautiful kitten, and his head was close to hers. She had her hand
on his chest, just rubbing at his shirt front.
The effect of what she had smoked and drunk was wearing off now, and she
looked around her in surprise. Her eyes fell upon his exposed penis and
she stiffened in fright. Sam's hand, lying on her tresses, felt the change
in her body attitude and his stroking fell off.
"What's wrong?" he asked in a low husky voice.
"Your thing," she whispered. "You've got it out!"
"Correction," he suggested. "You've got it out. I didn't lay a finger
on it"
She went goggle-eyed. "Me?" she said in a voice almost too soft and low
to hear.
"You."
"What on earth for?"
"You said something about your God-given body being your own. I figured
you wanted to play with it, so I let you fish it loose."
"Did I--play with it?" she asked breathlessly.
"A little."
Becky clutched both hands across her breasts. Her mind was in an
uproar. Could she have done such a thing of her own volition? A
stranger--a boy she'd lust met this evening--take his penis out of his
pants and--finger and fondle it? Becky Ryan? Suspicion clouded her
thoughts. Was he lying to her? Was he trying to take advantage of her
when she was not in control of herself? Marjie had promised her that no
one would dare try such a thing, but Sam lived here. Who would throw him
out if he misbehaved? More likely it would be presumptuous of Becky, the
party guest, who would be tossed out on her ear for rejecting the overtures
of her host.
"Are you telling me the truth?" she demanded, a slight tinge of hostile
suspicion flavoring her trembling voice. "Did I really?"
"Stay cool, Beck," he smiled. "Marjie caught me when I was downstairs
getting the wine, and she told me that if I tried any dirty stuff with you,
she'd cut my balls off with a dull knife. I've got plans for using those
things the rest of my life, so I wouldn't try to cross her on anything.
Besides, I like you too. I didn't bring you up here to try for a piece.
If you wanta go, it's okay with me. I mean, you were out of it for a while
and I just went along with you."
Becky was touched by what he said. She pulled gently at the front of
his shirt once more. "Honest?"
"Honest," he smiled. "And by the way. You don't have to worry about
whether guys think you're ugly. They sure as hell don't. And not all of
us are like the one Marjie told me about." He saw the look on her face and
followed hastily with, "I'm sorry, Beck--I didn't mean to bring up nasty
memories."
"It's all right," she said. "It doesn't bother me any more. Say," she
went on. "Would you mind very much if I did--kinda--play with your thing?"
And before he could answer yes or no, she bad taken the limp snake between
thumb and forefinger, bouncing it up and down, giggling at its flopping.
"Do you want to?" he asked warningly.
"I think so," she replied, her fist closing round his cock as she felt
it respond to her caresses. It began to stiffen in her grip, it grew
harder, longer, thrusting out of her clench like a proud tree. It was warm
in her hand, yet with the stiffness of wood. Inquisitively she let her
fist slide up and down its shaft.
A droplet of come appeared in the slit at the tip of his cockhead. It
looked just like water as it hung there before sliding its way down the
underside of his prick to drip on Becky's thumb.
"Are you gonna shoot out all that stuff?" she asked.
He nodded. "If you keep that up very long I sure will."
"Golly," Becky giggled like a schoolgirl. "Marilyn will shoot me if I
get it all over her jumpsuit. Maybe I better take it off." And with that
she released his cock, got to her feet, and put a finger to the zipper that
ran down the front of the borrowed outfit. Leisurely she pulled the zipper
down, opening the front of her costume; then just as leisurely she slipped
the garment off her shoulders, baring her young tits to his gaze. He
whistled as he saw them, his eyes lighting as they took in the pink
perfection of her nipples. She worked her way out of the jumpsuit and,
clad in her panties alone, returned to the bed.
His hands touched her tentatively, rubbing the smooth pink of her
shoulders, sliding down her ribs, cupping her slim waist. He stroked her
belly between navel and panty waistband, and felt her thrusting against him
as he did so. Through the thin white nylon of her undies he drew a hand
across the tightness of her high young ass, marveled at its springy
resilience. Sam touched her bared thighs, tickled a fingertip along their
inner curves, making her laugh sweetly with the stimulation.
Last of all he dared reach a finger to her tits. His finger aimed for
the pink nipple of her left breast, halted tantalizingly just beyond its
point, then knew wondrous joy as he felt her nip extending itself to touch
ever so softly the ball of his finger. Admiringly he let a palm cup that
breast then, hoisting its perfect orb.
"God," he sighed. He couldn't stop himself then. His head dipped,
kissed a nipple, then sucked the point into his mouth. He nursed her dry
tit, leaving little drops of saliva on the pink when he pulled away.
"Do you like them?" she whispered.
"Uh-huh," he confirmed.
"They're not too little?"
"Anything over a handful is wasted," he told her. "And yours were just
made to be handheld."
And then his mouth covered hers and his body lay partially across hers,
the shirt he wore rubbing her bare chest, his pocket buttons twiddling her
nipples. She quivered and squirmed, digging her ass into the surface of
the bed, shoving her breasts against him hard as she could. Her hands were
round his neck, curling his long hair, stroking his spine.
At last he broke away from her lips. "Do you still want me to play with
your--cock?" she asked, her lips forming the word that surprised her so
much when she said it.
"I can think of something I'd rather do," he answered, hand once more
clutching a tit.
Her reply was to unfasten his belt. Sam got the message and he fairly
leaped from the bed, clothes falling like autumn leaves in a windstorm.
When he rejoined her he was nude, and the only article of clothing between
the two of them was the pair of white panties Becky still wore.
"Do you want to?" he asked her, his hands just beginning to tug at her
waistband. He wanted her so badly he could taste his lust but be would not
force her. If she was willing, they could fuck. If she said no, he would
help her dress and take her downstairs as untouched as when she came up.
Becky's head still swam with the wine she had drunk, the weed she had
smoked. She put a hand on one of her lovely breasts, felt its rigid
nipple. Beneath the white nylon of her panties there was moistness,
anticipation. Her eyes blinked a time or two, then shut tightly as she
reached a finger to the steel-hard length of Sam's cock. Her finger
touched it, rubbed the dark purple head, came away dewy with the droplets
of semen that were already appearing from time to time in his ejaculatory
opening.
"Yes," she spoke suddenly, "yes, yes, yes!" and she rolled onto her
back, thighs open, the flanges of bet cuntal flower opening under the thin
guarding veil of her undies. Her crotch was wet, a dark colorless stain
dampening her white panties. She felt Sam's fingers tug suddenly at that
last barrier, and she raised her ass from the bed to give him assistance in
completing the task of undressing her.
His mouth covered hers and he lay atop her, heavy, hard, demanding. She
wrapped arms round him and clutched him to her trembling breasts, hoping to
still the mad desire that begged now for satisfaction.
Sam broke away from her now, and she reached for him with arms that
clung like tendrils, not wanting to lose what he had promised to give her.
He sat himself down on the bed, his back against the bedhead, his Legs
outstretched, his cock pointing upward like a telephone pole. She crawled
to him, and he put his arms on her shoulders and guided her.
"Do it this way," he mumbled, and she let him direct her. Her back to
the boy, Becky squatted above his middle, the red point of his cock just
touching the blonde fuzz round her pussy. She moved from side to side,
teasing his prick with the friction of her cunt hair, giggling excitedly,
until she felt his hands-take firm control of her waist. Becky relaxed at
once, cooing at his strong touch. He braced one hand on her waist and
slipped the other round the shaft of his dick, guiding it to the pink lips
of her love tunnel.
She felt the blood-gorged head of him touching her cunt lips, knocking
at the door as it were, and she strained to spread herself a little to
allow him easy entrance. The petals of her flower parted and his prick
began to slide inside her. Becky gasped softly, but the pain she had felt
with Ted's rough flicking was absent now. Instead she knew delightful
friction as his cockhead teased at her opening slit. It brushed her
sensitive pussy lips, made her give a little ticklish trill of enjoyment.
Sam didn't have to **** the lovely freshman girl. He was an experienced
lover and he knew that fucking was most satisfactory for both partners when
it was gentle and unrushed.
With preliminary entrance made, Sam was free to let go his cock. It
could find its own way into Becky now that it had been shown the path. He
let the released hand slide up Becky's side, to her armpit, rubbing softly
the shaven area there. She tightened her arm on his fingers, pressing them
into her moist axilla. He fought his way free of her squeeze and worked
his fingers round to cup a small lovely breast. She squirmed as he fondled
her nipple and teased delicately the underside of her little mound, and her
head was swaying from side to side. The tantalization of his partial
penetration, of his casually exploring fingers was too much for her.
"Please," she whispered, her lips trembling, spittle forming at the
corners of her mouth. "Fuck me now. I can't wait another second."
And before he could react to her sudden demand, she had taken the
initiative herself, pressing her body down upon his strong cock. The
still-tight lips of her cunt parted as she forced her way down, and there
was a momentary thrill of beautiful agony before she could accommodate
herself to his presence. And then the agony gave way to glorious
sensation.
Her cunt sucked hungrily at the new visitor, drawing it deeper and
deeper of its own accord. Becky shoved herself down on Sam, pulling nearly
all his length inside her. A joyous shriek burst from her lips as she
eased all the way down upon him, embedding him totally inside her vaginal
tunnel. She sat upon his cock for a long, long moment, drawing emotion she
had never been able to imagine, joy indescribable, as she experienced the
presence of his immersion. Juices flowed round the staff of his prick,
wetting it, wetting her, and she wiggled upon him to scoot his cock round
and round in her lubrication.
"You okay?" Sam asked considerately, his hands still touching her
nipples, clutching her waist.
Becky nodded In determination, her hair bouncing up and down with the
force of her gesture.
"All right, then," Sam smiled. "Let's go!"
Becky gurgled in surprised excitement then as Sam lurched upward,
driving at her. His balls rubbed the splayed slice of her cunt, and she
jumped in delight. And beneath her Sam was shoving up and down, trying to
imbed himself in her tight cunt. She got the message and started to
vibrate and bob on his impalement. He worked his hips in counterpoint to
hers, and as she moved up and down, up and down, she felt the rigid shape
of his tool moving inside her newly educated pussy.
The tickling sensation that affected her labia whenever he moved was
breathtaking, and Becky looked down her front to see her left lit quivering
with anticipation as her heart scuttered away Inside her body. She thought
madly that the feeling must be closely akin to that of having your foot
stroked lightly by a feather for hours on end. And she never wanted it to
stop! She jerked herself up and down on his cock, her pussy walls striving
to clutch it as tight as possible. Now it was vital that she be stuffed as
full as she could be. With Ted the dry tightness had been nigh
unendurable, but with Sam she wanted to know that lightness in even more
thrilling measure.
Her mouth was open and her breath husking out of her from the fanatic
determination with which she fucked herself on Sam's stiff cock. She put
her hands on the points of her tits, squeezed the pink nipples viciously,
brushed at a drop of saliva that trailed down her chin uncontrollably,
laughed loudly, maniacally, as she felt the cock shafting into her almost
unused vaginal tract.
Surprise hit Becky like a slap in the mouth when Sam's fingers stole
from her waist and crept into the gold fringe of her cant hair below. She
sighed and "oohed" at his first darting touch, then opened her mouth in a
gasp of excitement as she felt a finger enter the fucked-open gash of her
pussy. As Sam's cock screwed in and out, his finger touched roguishly the
exposed nub of her clitoris. A shudder swept across her humping body, and
each time he felt her love button once more, she fluttered again. Sopping
juices were turning her cunt interior to pasty jelly, and every thrust of
his prick rubbed against a new nerve, sending a fresh message of rapture to
her brain.
Becky pushed her body back against Sam, striving to arch her loins so
that he could the more easily caress her love bump. She spread her
straddled legs till she feared her slice would burst open, but whether it
split or not, she still had to allow him all the more access to her aching
clit. Jacking up and down on his stiff prick, presenting like a Christmas
gift the raw treasure of her femininity, Becky fucked herself like a
madwoman on Sam's jerking cock.
Her eyes drifted round the room, went in and out of focus, settled at
last upon the face of Marjie, standing in the door. Becky blinked two or
three times to assure herself she was indeed being watched, and when she
was sure that Marjie's presence was real and not imaginary, she wheezed out
a greeting.
Marjie stepped across the room with a smile. The knit dress she wore
swished and swirled round her plump thighs as she approached.
"How's it going, Beck?" she grinned, knowing that her blonde roomie was
too far gone to carry on conversation.
Becky panted in reply, squealing suddenly as Sam's fingers rubbed once
more the deliciously tender button. His cock was squishing in and out of
her wet twat as she jerked up and down on his lap, and she could feel it
swelling inside her, just as Ted's had in the moments before it spat its
load.
"I'm gonna come," Sam grunted. "I can't hold it back!" and then he
jerked upward just as Becky thrust down upon him, and he felt his cock
emptying itself. He had no control now. All he could do was to push
against her, burying his entire length in the blonde girl's cunt, shoving
it at her on each squirt of his hot jism.
Becky hovered on the verge of orgasm. Her heart was leaping and her
mind was in turmoil. As Sam emptied himself he continued to rub her
clitty, and she knew as she pressed herself down upon his gushing peter
that something totally new was about to happen to her.
Marjie stood close by, her face near Becky's, her eyes studying the
young girl's strangely distorted features. "Come, Becky, come!" she was
whispering hotly. "You can do it! Let go!" She clenched her hands so
tightly the nails left imprints on her palms. If Becky didn't come soon,
she knew she would jab her finger into the girl's cunt right alongside
Sam's. She had to see that Becky got her rocks off too! It was all part
of that good deed for which she felt so proud of herself.
Becky gasped, and her heart seemed to stop. Her clit seemed large as a
peanut, quivering under Sam's brushing touches, and when he squeezed it
suddenly, his cock still hard inside her though it had spilt its load and
was now working overtime, she shrieked like a banshee.
She jerked herself upward, uncocking herself at once, feeling the sudden
oozing drip of warm wet come from out of her pussy. Becky threw herself
forward onto the bed, lying on her stomach, her legs bent upward at the
knees, her hands beneath her, rubbing at her tummy, sliding down into the
wet patch of golden hair in her delta. She stroked herself as she lay
humping her crotch on the fingers, feeling the liquids that flowed from
her, liquids that she and Sam had conspired to create, and her face looked
toward the wall, seeing nothing. The mighty thumpings of her heart seemed
loud as thunder in her ears, but she could hear very clearly the rustle of
her hair against the bedsheet as she writhed in ecstasy, and she could hear
herself repeating over and over again as she throbbed in the joys of her
first partnered orgasm: "My God-given body is my own!"
2 years ago