Ron Taylor: High school hot pants

"Yes, I think I would like another drink," I told him, "but do you have any soda to mix with it?" When he went into the kitchen to get the soda I hopped off the couch and skinnied out of my blouse and slacks. When I lay back down again, posed like Cleopatra, all I had on were my panties.

I'd never been that naked in front of a man before, and I wondered how it would feel. There was sweat under my arms and on the curves of my tits as I waited for him to come back from the kitchen. "Hi," I said, trying to sound available.

"Hi," he said nonchalantly, handing me the whiskey and soda. I had to sit up to take it, and I thought at first that it spoiled the effect completely, especially since he went back into his lotus on the floor as if he hadn't even noticed how cute and naked I was. Then I saw his eyes.

Even while he took a healthy swig of straight Club, his eyes were on me, sharp as an eagle's. He wasn't missing any of what I had. My nipples hardened under his stare and my knees felt all woozy. If this was how it felt to be almost completely naked in front of a man, I was pretty sure I liked the feeling.

"What happened to your clothes?" he asked.

"I took them off," I replied evenly. With one set of toes I pointed to the shirt and slacks on the floor. He nodded in agreement but didn't try anything. "It occurred to me," I went on, "then maybe you were entitled to something for saving my life. You know what I mean?" He put down his glass and looked at me, a smile just starting to form on his mouth. "Well?" I asked him. "Is there anything wrong with me? Why aren't you speaking?"

He picked himself up and walked toward me, holding out one hand. I rose as he came nearer, and he pulled me against his body. Because he was shorter, I had to kiss down, but he was kissing up and we made a fascinating combination. Especially when he put his hands on the cheeks of my ass and started to knead the firm, but yielding flesh through the nylon of the panties. I started to rock from foot to foot, my hips swiveling up and down, and he kept plying my flesh as if he were holding bread dough. I liked it.

My breasts hardened where they touched his body, and the nipple ends seemed to be afire with passion. Now I knew what Jill had meant in that first letter. Half an hour ago I hadn't known B.E. was alive, and here I was, rubbing my naked body against his so ferociously that my thighs ached, and kissing him so hard that my lips were growing numb.

He seemed so casual about it – in the beginning, at least. But the more strenuously we kissed, the more passionately I slid myself up and down his front, the more involved his hands became with the curves of my ass, the more noticeable, too, his dick was becoming. I could feel it inside his pants where we touched, and it was filling up faster and each passing second of body contact. So! It looked as if Didi could arouse a man with her body just as easily as Jill could. I didn't have to take a backseat to her on this count.

He put his hands into my panties and one finger moved up and down the crack of my ass. I started twisting and wiggling with a slightly different rhythm, and the action of his finger in my anal crack was so deliciously like the kind of masturbation I enjoy doing to my pussy that I opened my mouth wider, intending to swallow his whole face.

His breath tasted of whiskey, but mine must, too, and the first drink I'd taken was already in control of my head. Being a little sloshed – that was a good excuse, if I needed one, but I didn't. Seducing a stranger to prove I could do it – that was its own excuse, and a delicious one, too!

I pulled my lips from his and let my tongue trace circles around his mouth. "There's more," I hinted breathily, "if you think you can handle it," Jill had told her older man the same thing and, I hoped, in the same inviting vocal tone.

I stepped back, taking a deep breath so my tits would jiggle for him. With any luck, the effect would hypnotize him. I couldn't see why not; the nipples were very hard, tilted up saucily, and their color was that shade of purplish pink they get when I'm really hot.

"Christ," he said, "Where was the Goddamned sexual revolution when I was in high school and really needed it?" B.E. shook his head. My face fell, because I was certain that he was about to order me out of his house. Why did I have to be so truthful? Why did he have to be so accurate in his guesses?

But instead of the expected reaction, B.E. reached out and took one of my breasts in each hand. He stared at my face as he squeezed the firm mounds, and I licked my lips to show him that I dug it. Between his fingers, my nipples sprouted, even harder, even longer. He bent in closer and let his tongue slide across my stiff teats before he caught each in turn between his tight lips for some pulling and suckling. I sighed in relief.

He laughed. "And I had to wait twenty years to get one. Well, if you're in the mood for education, so am I. Come along." He led me across the room, my hand in his, and both of us were laughing because I knew it would all be right and good for me flow.

Two doors faced us, and he guided me through the one on the right-hand side. His bedroom was sparsely furnished, too, with just a bed, a chair, and a small chest of drawers. This must be the ascetic life that everyone says is far superior to materialism, but I wondered where I'd put all my clothes in a room like this me. B.E. did a courtly bow and indicated the bed, which was rumpled and unmade, though the sheets were pretty clean.

"Don't you want to know why I'm doing this?" I asked taking off my panties and hauling my wiggly onto the mattress.

"Later," he said, undressing. His clothes were plain and utilitarian – just a shirt, sleeves rolled up and sweat stains at the armpits, and a pair of faded denims. Underneath, nothing except his erection, which lurched into the open and pointed in my direction. "Well, my compass is still working," he observed drily, and then he was on the bed with me, making it shake as he did a four-point landing at my side.

I rolled onto my back, legs open, knees up, and I reached down to spread the lips of my pussy for him. His cock wasn't extraordinarily big – Rocky's had been larger and, compared to the twelve-incher Jill had described to me, B.E.'s tool was pretty small. But it was stiff, the knobby tip glowing like a polished ruby, and I smacked my lips to imagine it rammed up me, thrusting with muscular hardness.

He rejected the invitation. Instead of fucking me right on the spot, he covered my snatch with his hand, kneading me there as he applied his mouth once more to my engorged nipples. If I'd thought them hard a few minutes ago, I was learning differently now. My nips swelled in the trap of his mouth and throbbed excitedly as his tongue lashed them to ever lengthening erections. He sucked me as if he meant to draw milk from my tits and, who knows? If he'd kept on sucking just like that, he might have gotten himself a warm sweet mouthful.

B.E. rubbed my pussy vigorously as he nursed my breasts, and his mouth was busy, shifting from tit to tit and kissing and licking the tingly flesh of my cleavage en route. He sucked me, he bit me, he chewed me, but his mouth was gentler and more experienced than Rocky's had been. I sighed and purred, and always the sensations rolling in my bosom were erotic and delectable. My hand caressed his head as he suckled, and I found a small balding spot at his crown which I massaged with loving, grateful fingers.

Slowly he began to abandon my breasts. His lips shifted under the curves of my titties, nuzzling me there where it was ticklish and arousing, and almost before I know it he was on my ribcage, his tongue fluttering across my skin like a little bird walking down my body.

He found my navel and rimmed it with his tongue. I hadn't known how good that could make a girl feel, but I found out very quickly. "Mmmmm, don't stop, please," I hummed, even as he moved further south, toward my waiting delta.