George Loomis: Three naughty girls

This was the moment of joy and triumph she had felt every time when a male of any age had bent above her, the triumph she closed her eyes to hide when a boy or man was committed this far, when fucking was an absolute certainty.

The fluttering seed of orgasm was now becoming a throb. She would have screamed her joy as the big, soft head want into her and the hard column hesitated against her vaginal sphincter's spasm, except that her interest in what was happening was too great, too intense. Nothing so fierce and complete had ever happened to her. Heat, itch, feeling amounting to pain was in her guts, all around her softly moving cunt, burning in the wet deft between the cheeks of her ass. The pressure of the cock was stretching her, scaring her, and she felt guilty. In spite of her flow of fluids, she might be too tight, tight enough to hurt this wonderful older man. He was so big, so powerful so – everything! And he was proving she was too tight.

He plunged at her, and she felt as if she were being ripped apart. In the anguish and ecstasy, her legs flew up, and the powerful ring of muscle at the entrance to her vagina opened a tiny bit and felt the pull of membrane as the hard column slid in another inch.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mister Kenny," she whispered, feeling tears forced out of her closed eyes. "Oh, I'm too tight for you! You're so big!" Her ass moved in spite of her attempts to lie still, to will her cunt to relax, and he hissed: "That's all right, baby girl! That's all right! Move your leg up more, get your feet higher."

She felt as if her cunt were being pushed back into her body, as if the fat and hairy outer lips were being driven into her by the ripping force of his cock. It was scary, but so good that she had to smother a yell of pleasure. And in her belly, her vagina, around the clitoris that also seemed to be ripped from its accustomed place, she felt the pain of a knotted orgasm, trying to burst its way out of a complex of nerves and silently screaming muscles.

"Oh God, oh, Daddy! Let me come! Help me! Help me!" She choked on the rising words, and began to come in a rolling series of waves that pounded her clenched ass up and back, down and forward. And, to her joy, she felt the hard orgasm opening her, its burst of juices slicking her vagina and the man's heavy cock so that he was pounding into her. The feel of ripping was gone; all she felt was heat and stretch and friction and the gut-tightening pain as he battered at her womb and stretched the closed end of her cunt.

She could hear him laughing softly as his whiskered and sweated cheek lay next to hers, as the final flutters of her deepest muscles kissed and sucked at the buried head of his cock. She felt big and grown up as the whiskey fumes railed around her. This was a man! She regretted that he must have come, that he would wither and slip out of her hungry cunt.

He was whispering in her ear. "You're damned right you're tight, baby, and you're damned right I'm big!"

His lean belly was slippery with his and her sweat, and the smell of cunt and sweat made her giddy with the deep pleasure of the fuck, and she felt her vaginal muscles wrap around the big pole of meat, which was still strangely hard.

"You hit bottom every time you shoved into me," she whispered. "Did I holler very loud?"

His loins knotted and he worked the big prick around in her, letting it soak in the hot juice that filled her so full that he had pistoned out a lot of it, along her thighs, in the dark crevice of her compressed asscheeks.

She jumped as his movements stretched her and worked around her cervix. "How come you're still hard?" she asked wonderingly.

He plunged into her and pulled out, repeating the action.

"I didn't come, yet, baby," he laughed. "Remember what I told you? I'm going to fuck you right up a wall!"

She laughed comfortably, confidently, and pulled his tough old face around to hers. She looked at him for a long moment, and he was amazed at the maturity of that look on her baby face. She opened her mouth and licked around her lips, and he went to her gently, sinking his tongue into the sweetness of her mouth. She sacked and licked, pushed his head back and licked all around his mouth, and grinned.

"I love to lick my pussy-juice off you," she whispered. "I just wish I could bend my back enough to reach my cunt – idiot's delight, they say, sucking yourself off!"

His body seemed to come alive and his big cock twisted into her as he rammed and plunged, his mouth back on hers, his tongue trying to suck hers up by its roots, his body beating the width, the hairy softness, the running red slab of her raised mid opened cunt.

She did not know it, because she actually had too little experience for comparisons, but she was getting a premium fuck. As a cowboy, Jud Kenny was a fake a riding faster, a pretender, a joke. But he was a man. Booze and long hours in the outdoors made him look fifteen years older than his age. He was forty-six, which would have seemed ancient to Angela, but he was as good in bed as he ever was. And he knew that sex meant more then a slick pussy wrapped around a cock.

He rubbed his hands over her long, firm breasts, pressing them down hard, getting the suddenly expanding nipples between his fingers. He tongued her deeply, deliberately letting his sin of spit slide into her mouth, feeling her swallow, suddenly wishing he had his cock buried in that soft throat.

The smell of lust grew thicker, and the girl bumped up to him frantically, and he immediately began to slam his body against her, burying the length of his cock into her in a later rhythm, listening to her grunts of coming. He did not let her rest, either, but continued to fuck after bar come we over and she we fighting to dislodge his prick from her screamingly sensitive pussy.

She began screaming against his tongue, almost fainting from the pain of a sensitivity beyond description, her cunt still burning from that fierce orgasm, needing to rest, but being crammed by the hard cock, her shrinking clitoris beaten by his mound and scraped by his pubic hair.

In the midst of this twisted sensuality, with pain flooding trough her belly meeting the pain coming down from her bruised breasts, her body suddenly took on a new, unexpected consciousness, the crazy joy of a feeling too intense to believe. Her protesting cunt was no longer trying to shake the man out or slip back from his thrusts. Rather, accepting the unbearable, the cunt, the ass, the breasts, the belly, the tongue – all her parts and all her body, in fact – became one large, hungry, gulping pussy, feeling good all over, trying to get the entire man into her, trying to eat him alive with her cunt.

She came again, and screamed again, but this time she did not fight for rest. Instead, she began to swing her body from side to side as if seeking new areas inside her cunt to rub on his beating, plunging cock.

And all the time, from the instant he had started the fucking again, whenever his mouth was away from hers, Kenny kept up a steady stream of talk to inflame her mind: "I'm right up your cunt, baby! My hard old cock is slamming around in your hot cunt! You're a great piece of ass, baby, a wonderful fuck! You're coming by the quart, Angela. That's your name, ain't it, baby? Yes, Miss Angela Hart, cunt and all; tight pink pussy, cute blonde-haired cunt! Fuck me, doll! Take it all in! I'm deep in your cunt, baby – wrap some pussy around me!"

And with each burst of hot language, although her mind was far out in a whirling void, Angie responded. Never such a fuck, never such a woman, Kenny knew it with each slam of his cock into her. Goddamn it, what a cunt! Running with juice, buckets of it, but tight and soft and sweet.

She screamed again, and even in his lust, Jud sensed a nearness to son form of totality, to the end of some rope, the presence of a condition that could go out of control. For his cock we almost his master, and his hands knew the silky weight of her tits so that they felt like cunts, too.