Vincent Church - Degraded teenager
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- Название:Degraded teenager
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"Ohhhhhh! Ahhhhhhh! God, God, it's too much, too fucking much! Yeeeeeeeee! Yes, yes, yes!"
It was still far from over. Her endurance was incredible. She could fuck for hours more, and if he couldn't hold up then she would find somebody else.
"Yes! Fuck me!" she screamed. "Don't stop! Don't ever ever stop!"
"I won't… unless I have a heart attack," said the doctor, with a trace of reality to his sarcasm. After all, he had never been with a lover who was so demanding. And she was that, and he hoped he was up to the challenge.
So far, his dick was holding up rather well, staying stiff deep within her cunt, moving back with the precision and strength of a piston.
In and out, back and forth, again and again he charged through her quaking loins.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" she screamed. "I'm starting to come again, Doc, I am, I am! Ahhhhhh! Don't stop! Don't ever stop, you wonderful man of medicine! Yeeee!"
"Ohhhh! I can't stand it! I'm going crazy! I'm going out of my fucking mind!"
Pounding, slamming, ramming in and out of her pussy. Again and again, on and on.
It seemed to both of them that it would never end. And it almost never did.
But when it did, they were both totally gone for days to come.
CHAPTER TEN
It was like watching a favorite movie rerun, thought Sam. She came languidly down the stairs to the administration building, turned her wide, clefted hips toward him, and waved to the girls looking down from the dorm window. Then she faced him and grinned. Heart thumping like an engine room piston, he watched her float toward the car. Again she had changed: she was taller, five-four, maybe five. Her red hair had darkened, become auburn, and was piled stylishly on top of her head. Her legs seemed longer too. And her tits and pelvis were those of a grown woman.
"Hi Daddy," she said in a mature, throaty voice. Her nylons hissed as she slipped into the seat. Her green eyes flashed with suppressed laughter. Demurely she tugged the hem of her thigh-length dress down.
He was speechless. His little girl had grown up, and was a beauty. Where before she was sweet, cute all the adjectives that fit a teenage minx – she was at eighteen a dream, something out of a high-class fashion magazine. But she seemed to have changed in other ways too, the way she held her knees tightly together, the swank but less revealing clothes she wore. Now he knew why she'd insisted that he stay, away, why, after the first year, she wrote less and refused to allow him to visit. She had planned the effect.
"You look…" He searched his mind for the appropriate description, but there was none to fit the occasion. There were no words to express the loveliness of the woman he'd known as a girl in the most intimate way. "You look like you've been doing okay," he finished inanely.
Wendy leaned across the seat, and touched her lips softly to his. The kiss sent a chill up his spine. He looked into her eyes, trying to determine what it was he saw there: the coolness, the firm yet gentle self-assurance.
"Take me home, Daddy," Wendy whispered, stroking his face. "It seems like forever since the last time you took me to bed."
They paused at the front door, Sam grinning into her questioning eyes. Cynthia had arranged a surprise coming home party, with half the neighborhood there. Bygones were to be bygones – Lew and Penny and Tish Ogden, were invited. The smell of charred steak drifted in from the backyard barbecue, and the living room was noisy with chatter and clinking glasses.
Lew spotted them first. Drink in hand, he made his way through the crowd. He stepped close to Wendy, and whistled softly.
Sam felt a sudden stab of jealousy. He remembered that it was Lew, Lew and stupid Penny Ogden, who originally had Wendy sent to the State Home for Girls. "Let her circulate some," he told the man. Turning to Wendy, he added, "I'll get you a drink, honey. You're old enough now… old enough for lots of things."
She said nothing and stared at him with the same suppressed laughter in her green eyes. What was she trying to tell him? Sam wondered. The invitation she'd voiced in the car echoed inside his head. It did indeed seem like forever since he had bent her over the foot of the bed and rammed his cock up her rear. Now he was sorry he'd allowed Cynthia to talk him into giving the party, and particularly for inviting the Ogdens. He was sorry they weren't alone – he and Wendy.
"I'll let Mr. Ogden show me around," the girl said at last. She snaked her arm through Lew's. "I've forgotten who's who. Four years without men…" she paused to glance significantly at his pants front. "Without men friends to talk to," she finished, "is a long time, Daddy."
Lew laughed. Gulping his drink, he set the empty glass on the hall table. His hand closed over the one on his arm. "You can talk to me all you like, baby," he said. "I'm always available."
Furious, but not sure why, realizing she hadn't even bothered to say hello to her mother, Sam watched them cross the crowded, smoke-filled room. Was this the same timid girl who had once lived there? he wondered. There was no mistaking the implication behind what she'd said: four years with out men friends! Christ! Again he recalled what she'd said in the car, and his dick stirred. Trying to keep her in sight, knowing what Lew had in mind, he strode to the bar for the drink that was to be his excuse to follow them.
Wendy knew Daddy was jealous, but she was so tired of old Doctor Bruce, the parole board, and bottles and broomsticks up her cunt, that the thought of Lew's big, strong dick made her giddy. And it was working out just as she'd planned: Daddy wanted her more than ever, and was watching her every move. She moved close to Lew, rubbing thighs with him. "Let's go outside," she suggested.
"Sure thing, kid."
"I'm not a kid any more," she replied firmly. "I'm eighteen, and lots more educated."
Lew's gaze swept her body, and settled on the points of her breasts. "I can see your education, baby. It sticks out all over."
She glanced back to make sure Daddy was still watching. He was. He was pretending to mix the drink, but was oogling her like a small boy peeking in a bathroom window. Her mind raced. She hadn't anticipated the party, an afternoon of idle chatter before bedtime. She hadn't thought about other men. Her speculations had included only Mummy and Daddy – how to get them both in the same bed with her, and how surprised they'd be to discover the new Wendy. Now there were other possibilities: Lew, perhaps Penny and Tish. She could almost feel the crushing weight of two men, a cock at her front and rear entries blasting cum up her belly.
The people from up the street, the young couple whose names she could never remember, offered them sandwiches. But before she could say more than hello, Lew led her away to the hedge overlooking the Ogden garage. His hand dropped to her hip, fingertips brushing even lower. "Remember the morning I found you in there?" he asked.
Did she ever remember! She remembered too what had happened later that day with Miss Alberta. And the time Lew made her stand on her head, and Cuckoo her so good she lost control of her bowels. She let her hand graze the prick in his pants leg. It was only right that he should be first now, she thought: only fair that the first outside screwing she got was from the man who rammed a hot dick through her cherry. "Is the cot still in there?" she asked.
His hand inched lower, and cupped over one cheek of her ass. "Did you say cot or cock?"
She looked from him to the house, and saw Daddy at the back door. Her hot cunthole tightened. She turned back to Lew, and studied him a moment more. "One's not much good without the other," she said.
Instinctively Sam's hand went to the belt at his waist. The little cunt! he thought. She knew he was watching – he'd seen her cast a furtive glance his way. Yet she was letting Lew lead her inside the garage, and there was only one reason, one thing they could have in mind. It was almost as if she were daring him to follow.
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