Allen Whitten: The teaser next door

The fucking ache had been building for most of the day. Wendy even felt as though it had been building for much longer than that. A week at least. It had been that long since her abortive evening with Andrew.

Andrew. The name even sounded like that of a small child. And despite his six-foot height, he had been little more than a child when it came to fucking a sexually-eager seventeen-year-old girl.

Namely Wendy Halliburton.

If she really wanted to be honest, Andrew was the worst but his predecessors hadn't been the greatest set of fuckers she had ever known. Most of them were quick-shot artists like Red Hardy.

God, what she'd give for a good, honest-to-God hard fucking. A real first-class fuck.

Maybe tonight, with Phillip of the broad shoulders, and well-filled blue jeans, she would get her wish.

She gazed at herself in the mirror. She was wearing nothing but a pair of baby-blue panties, low-slung bikini bottoms, with the dark triangle of her pubic hair outlined just above the vee of her crotch.

Her firm young tits stood coral-tipped on her high rib cage, and her belly was sleek and flat. There was no baby fat on her teenaged body, though she could by no means be called lean. The flesh and muscle had achieved a happy medium on her nubile body. She was what the boys at school called stacked.

She took great pride in her big tits, reveled in the effect it had on those young bucks who lounged against the walls at school, whistling low and moaning softly when she passed, whispering lewd remarks just loud enough for her to hear.

Let them look, feast their eyes on her tits, dream their wet dreams, wake up in the morning with their shorts sticky. A man needed to have some sense of what paradise was.

And not many would argue that Wendy Halliburton was very definitely paradise – a paradise of pussy and perfect tits.

The doorbell rang in high-pitched tones. Wendy slipped into her white blouse and checked her appearance one final time in the mirror. Hair flowing past her shoulders, the bangs were cut just above her green eyes. Blouse neatly pressed and well filled with her tits. She rubbed the nipples through the fabric to make them stand erect.

She slipped on her miniskirt and twirled. Just enough thigh showed to serve as a tantalizing advertisement for the sweet pussy between her legs.

Hope it gets some action tonight.

The doorbell became more and more insistent. He'd just have to wait, since she was the only one at home. Her parents had gone for a weekend trip to the mountains, and they left the great big house to her.

She meant to make the best of it.

"I'm coming," she shouted, hurrying out of her room and down the stairs.

Damn, forgot the shoes.

She turned and went back up the stairs and slipped into a pair of sandals.

Guess he thinks I'm never coming.

She winced. That would be terrible, she thought, catching a secondary meaning of the word. I'd sure hate never to come again.

She paused in front of the big oak door.

This was her last chance with a young stud. If he disappointed her like the last two, well, she would just have to take on some better pricks. Ones with experience, who had something more on their minds than blowing their nuts as quickly as they could.

"Sure took a long time," Phillip said as she opened the door.

"Anything good is worth waiting for."

Wendy snuggled closer to Phillip on the living-room couch. She nestled her strawberry blonde head in the cradle formed by his neck and shoulder and draped her right arm across his belly.

"It's kinda nice to be alone, isn't it?" she purred, rubbing her cheek against his chest.

"Uh, sure is," he stammered, nervously stroking her back.

She edged her mini skirted thigh close to him, letting it rest alongside his. She could feel their mutual warmth mingling at the touch, and she smiled to herself, an anticipatory gleam filling her green eyes.

He wanted it. He just didn't know how to go about getting cunt. Or he was too damn afraid to try. How was it that all the young fellows she was attracted to were like this? She would just have to coax him, give him some encouragement, and maybe he'd take the hint. He may be inexperienced, but surely he wasn't retarded.

"You know, Mom and Dad won't be back for two days. We've got the complete house to ourselves."

Her fingers slipped inside his shirt and touched the flesh of his belly, tracing circles about his navel. The hair which gathered on his stomach, sparser and shorter than that which grew just a little lower at the base of his cock, tickled her fingertips.

She lightly massaged the slight depression and was reminded of a similar act in a very different place on her own body. Her motion was not unlike the tender strokes she often gave her sweet little pussy as she sought the delicate hump of clitoral flesh, rich with sensitive nerve endings.

She often resorted to finger-fucking herself. It was sometimes her only relief, her only method of releasing the hot desires which welled up inside her nubile young body. Slipping a finger into her cunt was not her favorite way of getting her sexual kicks, but she couldn't always be so choosy, and it was surely the most economical way of getting her tight little cunt a climax.

It was too bad that Phillip didn't have a clit buried in his navel. Things would be easier for all concerned. A few quick brushes of her finger and he would be ready to forget his shyness and aggressively pursue the hot little cunt that he hadn't the sense to realize was his just for the asking.

"You're sure awfully silent, Phillip. A penny for your thoughts."

He smiled sheepishly at her, embarrassed, and she was certain that he had been thinking of the thrilling action of fucking her cunt with his stiff prick.

He squeezed her arm. His palms were hot and sweaty, as though he had a fever.

"I didn't know that anything could be bought for a penny nowadays, what with inflation and all," he said.

She rubbed her hand across his belly, felt it quiver as she touched the strip of flesh just above his belt line.

"I'm willing to offer more."

She looked up into his eyes read the fire raging within them. His eyes seemed to be exploring her, trying to read her thoughts, to fathom her intentions, her willingness. She knew the signs of her desire blazed back at him, but he didn't know how to read them. He was unsure of himself, didn't know her well enough to reckon that she wanted to fuck and fuck and fuck.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, bending his head toward her.

She lifted to meet his kiss. It was tender, his lips pressing lightly to hers. She wanted him to open his mouth, but he didn't and she was disappointed.

"Do you find me exciting?" she asked, her mouth still close to his, so that their breaths mingled.

She kissed him again, opening her mouth, her kiss warm and wet. For an instant, her tongue touched his lips, licked their fullness then withdrew. He started at her touch, but before he could respond she had gone.

"Terribly exciting," he said.

His hand stroked her cheek, his fingers tracing the soft outline of her jaw, then brushing across her mouth. She kissed his fingertips, licked the palm of his hand, nibbled at the ends of his fingers, all the while making a low mewling sound of pleasure.

"I'm no Goddess, Phillip. And I don't want to be adored. I'm real, flesh and blood, and I want to be loved like a woman. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

She shifted then, drawing herself up on the couch. She eased herself onto his lap, letting her arms encircle his neck. She could feel the hardness of his cock at her hip when she snuggled close, could feel his chest heaving with desire as she pressed her titties, all taut-tipped and fiery-hot with her growing passion, against his chest.