Duncan Fox: Spread wide and tied

"I was a virgin until about a year ago," Clara began, her mind going back to her senior prom.

She had gone steady with Gary during most of her senior year in high school. That night she had worn a low-cut white gown. He had been devastatingly handsome in his tux. It was traditional to stay out the whole night…

"Where do you want to go?" Gary asked as they left the crepe-paper decorated gym, entered the softly-scented spring night.

"Oh, I don't know," Clara answered. When he took her hand, an electric current flowed between them.

"I know where there's a party," he ventured in a tone that made it obvious that wasn't what he wanted to do.

"Oh, gee, I don't really want to go to a party," Clara said, trying to control the quiver in her voice.

"Want to just… drive around?"

Why was her crotch so hot? "Okay."

As soon as they were in the car she slid over next to him. It was his father's car. It was big and soft and warm, like a bedroom. He put the car in gear and pulled forward out of the parking space.

His arm went around her shoulder, and she snuggled closer to him. She rested her head against him and put her hand on his strong thighs. She felt the heat of his body through his formal trousers. She thought about the small paper bag in the back seat. It held her shorts and top, and her bathing suit. It was just in case they had decided to head for the beach after the prom. She really should change out of her dress, but didn't know how to suggest it.

His hand slid toward her breast, and she reached up to catch his fingers. Her heart fluttered, and her mouth was dry as she kept careful control of the situation. The street was nearly deserted. It was one in the morning, after all.

Without asking, he turned off the main drag, and headed into the secret darkness of a side street. They snuggled together, sharing the music over the radio, while tension slowly knotted her gut tighter. She tugged at his hand, moved his fingers on to the soft slope of her tit above the neckline of her dress. Her own hand stroked the inside of his thigh. The car lurched slightly as his foot jerked on the gas pedal.

They were on the back road around the Country Club now. On the right expensive houses were surrounded by huge manicured lawns. Most were dark. A few had the porch lights on.

The record on the radio changed, and Clara felt a surge of warmth. It was their song! Gary spun the steering wheel to the left, guided the car into a dirty service road that went through a grove of frees. Clara wondered if he had been here before with other girls. It was the first time he had brought her there.

"Found this the other day," he said in a tight voice. "Nobody else knows about it."

She hoped he was right and hoped that he was wrong, too. She was scared and eager all at the same time. She knew what was going to happen, knew he knew what was going to happen.

She wondered if he had taken precautions, had something with him.

The narrow road curled around toward a small storage shed. Gary drove to the far side of the building. They could see the golf course, all silver and black in the moonlight. The engine whined as he shifted into park, then went silent when he reached through the steering wheel and turned the key.

They were left alone with the soft music from the radio, and the pounding of their own hearts. His hand was stroking her breast gently. Then his other fingered her law, and she turned her head and they kissed. It was a pulse-racing, crotch boiling kiss. His tongue touched her lips. She let him in with virginal shyness.

As she turned toward him, the hand that had been caressing her tit lost contact with it. But his other took its place, slid hesitantly up her side.

His palm covered the warm mound and pressed softly on her dress and bra. She felt her nipple stiffen impatiently. Her left arm was trapped between them. Her hand was on the inside of his thigh. For a second, she was afraid to move it. Then, she did. She felt hot humidity in his crotch, and a hard lump along one thigh. Her fingers delicately traced his swollen cock. It was immense! She was fascinated by the size of it.

She snuggled firmly against him as the kiss went on and on and on. While he massaged her breast, she felt his other hand fumbling at the zipper on the back of her dress.

She could stop him. Maybe she should stop him.

But she knew she wasn't going to stop him. The zipper eased down and down and down her back, loosening her dress as it went. She tightened the kiss as her fear and excitement both grew. Her fingers pinched his rock-hard cock.

Then his hand left the zipper, went to her bra. The hooks popped free with distressing ease. The hand on her breast moved, sought more intimate access to the warm globe.

For a moment, she pressed closer to him, tried to protect her tit from his assault. Things were moving too fast for her. Her lust wasn't keeping pace with her fear. Then his fingers touched her nipple, pinched it, and the flare of excitement that triggered surged past her worry and inhibitions, melted them away. She moaned deep in her throat. Her fingers stroked his cock, then fumbled blindly for his fly.

She found his zipper, managed somehow to pull it down. His cock thrust up against his shorts. She fumbled for the fly, but couldn't find it. Finally, impatiently, she managed to get his shorts down far enough to liberate his towering dick. It jumped out against her hand, drooled into her palm.

Her fingers curled around it with a familiarity that astonished her. She hadn't ever touched a cock before. She wanted to look down and see the jutting tower, but was afraid to break the kiss. Her dress hindering his touch, he probed and fondled her naked breast awkwardly.

A fresh surge of confidence and desire drove her to break the kiss and ease back from him. She kept hold of his cock, and glanced down. In the shadow of his lap, she could see little more than a vague outline. She slipped her dress down her arms. Releasing her grasp on his dick, she pulled her arms out of both dress and bra, and let the fabric crumple in her lap. Her breasts were bared to the moonlight streaming in the windshield, and to his eyes.

Gary sucked in an admiring gasp.

Clara took hold of his cock again, and sat up very straight, thrust her tits out proudly for his reverent inspection.

His fingers touched them, tweaked the nipples, sent hot flashes of lust through her. She saw the desire in his eyes. She liked the effect her body was having on him.

But she felt cheated at his lack of exposure. "Take off your jacket and shirt," she urged.

He stripped them off with shaking, sweating, desperate hands. Clara ran her fingers over his bare chest, twirled the curling dark hair, touched the nipples, made them stiffen. His hands stroked her soft, warm globes, pulled on her stiff nipples.

She felt like she was Eve and he was Adam. Her bare breasts mashed against his hard chest, her nipples dug at his pectorals. His hands caressed her naked back, pressed her against him. They kissed and she squirmed her chest against his, made her breasts ache and burn. Waves of fire and lust threatened her motels.

Morals? They had been lost in the typhoon of lust and love. Her crotch was a steaming, burning tunnel of hunger. She knew it wouldn't take much to get her out of her dress and panties.

Gary broke the kiss and eased her away so he could again study her breasts with eyes and hands. Then, unexpectedly, he dipped his head. Lips touched her tit, and flames erupted in her gut. She curled her fingers in his hair, and tilted her head.

His hands went to the rumple of her dress, and tugged. She lifted obediently, let him drag her gown down. Her panties went with it.

In seconds she was down to stockings and garter belt. His fingers probed the hairy nest of her pussy. She moaned and parted her thighs. She found his belt, yanked it open, and jammed his pants down and grasped his cock ruthlessly. She slid sideways on the seat, and fell slowly to her back. Then she tugged him down on top of her.