Ron Taylor: High school hot pants

It was like a million hopeless dreams all coming true in one beautiful, blinding instant. When I felt his hands grind upon my tits I knew that I had him just where I wanted him, where I'd always wanted him. This was definitely the twist B.E. had spoken about. It was the fulfillment of a passion which had been so futile I'd forced myself to ignore it.

And Greg enjoyed it, too. I knew that as soon as I saw his cock spring up, really hard and big, inside his gym shorts. God, I don't know how he kept his erection inside them! He swelled and his meat stick pointed toward me, and it was excitingly obvious that he'd gone too far to get out of it now. He was as ready to fuck me as I was to fuck him.

"Yes, Greg," I purred invitingly. My hands covered his and we played with my boobs together. "Yes, hold my tits – can you feel how hot my nipples are? I've wanted you for such a long time, and today I knew I had to have you. Will you fuck me now, darling?"

"Oh, yes," he whispered hoarsely, "I'll fuck you, Didi!"

"Call me Diana," I murmured softly. "Doesn't it sound a lot sexier?"

"Diana," he agreed, "I want to ball your buns off!"

"Ball away, stud," I grinned, reaching down to unsnap my shorts. They were tight and skimpy, and I peeled them down my thighs and stepped out of them. Reaching across to Greg, I locked my thumbs in the waistband of his gym trunks and jerked furiously. They fell, just as they'd fallen in my poolside fantasies about him.

His pecker sprang toward me. I groaned in delight as I saw its erected beauty. He was big and thick and red as a flame. B.E. had gone a long way toward showing me how unimportant cock size really is, and I'd have loved Greg's tool if it had been four inches long and a pencil's thickness, but it was sweet and dreamy to get my hand around his big joint and feel its hard male beauty throbbing in my fist.

Greg's hands left my titties and moved down to the panties which were all that separated him from my pussy. He pulled, and my bikinis yielded to his pull, and then he fixed on me with his eyes. "Diana," he said, and I loved the way he said my name, "I should tell you something. Before-before we do it, I mean. I haven't fucked many girls, and I don't think I'm very good at it."

"Of course you are," I assured him. "You're handsome and you have a gorgeous cock."

"Really," he said, in so revealing a voice that I couldn't help feeling for him. "That's why Robin and I broke up. She said I wasn't a worthwhile lay."

Oh, the rotten bitch! I thought, recalling her dainty figure and blonde hair and little China doll face. If she didn't like the way Greg screwed, she should have taught him. Probably she didn't know enough to teach him the ropes. I'd never liked her, principally because she was Greg's girl friend, and now I hated her. On the other hand, if she hadn't dumped him, I'd have been much less likely to be here with him now, so maybe I shouldn't feel all that snotty about Robin.

Anyway, I didn't see how he could be so awfully bad in the hay. And if he was, I knew how to straighten him out. God bless you, B.E. Courtney, I thought.

Somehow we got ourselves undressed, then stood eyeing our naked bodies in the middle of the living room. "Let's go upstairs," I suggested. "Like to your bedroom, maybe?"

He just stood there, so I flipped him on the dick and said "Tag! You're it!" and ran for the staircase. He was close behind, but I didn't let him catch me till his bed loomed in front, big and inviting. We rolled onto it, Greg's mouth beelining for my nipples, and I let him suck me like an overgrown baby as we sported and romped. How does this compare with upstairs maids at resort hotels? I wanted to ask, but I held my tongue. No sense flustering him further, and, of course, he'd wonder how I knew about that.

"Your cock," I gasped, "I want to suck it."

"God, yes!" he replied, taking his mouth off my tits and easing back onto one shoulder. His cock lanced toward me and I angled into it, my tongue coming out naturally, automatically, as I got near enough to touch him.

He had a strong, sweet taste. Different from B.E.'s, different from Rocky's, too, and I wondered if all cocks had their own individual flavors. If so, it promised a life of delightful discovery for me.

"Ohhhh!" he whined as I began to lick him, precisely as B.E. had taught me to do. I held him by the root of his tool and adored the end with my tongue, licking up and down until I was licking fingers instead of him. That was a sure sign for me that it was time to move north once more.

The knob of his cock was big and round, with flaring edges. It reminded me of a swollen bruise, while its taste was literally indescribable. Watery juice was oozing from the wound at his tip, and I lapped the stuff with my tongue. It was clear, virtually flavorless, but it was fluid from the depths of my Greg and I loved it.

From time to time I let the end of him slip into my mouth, where I sucked as if he were a lollipop. Obviously he'd never been sucked like this before, because he couldn't lie still while I did it to him. He twisted and writhed on the bed, and he tried to grab me by the head and impale me on his dick, but I just wasn't ready for that scene yet. We had plenty of time. If his dad had gone to Columbus to pick up Mrs. Pettit and Jill, as Greg said, then we could easily fuck ourselves crazy before they back.

"Don't stop!" he groaned, swiveling his ass so that his cock head jumped around in my mouth. I tightened up and allowed him to sink in a little further. Stopping was the furthest thing from my mind. He couldn't guess how many times I'd dreamed this to him, nor could he know how excited I was now, to be dong-mouthed with his tool.

Goddamn that hand! He couldn't keep it off my head, and I didn't intend to let him take charge of his own seduction. I took his hand off me for the fifth or sixth time, and instead of letting it flop away, I put it to good use. Guiding it toward my crotch, I slid a little closer to him so that his fingers made contact with my wet, aching pussy.

He touched the bush of hair, fingers poking through to the sweaty, tingly flesh beneath, and then he found my slit, already pooched open. "God, Diana," he said admiringly, "I think you have the nicest pussy I've ever seen."

"Nnnnnnn!" I said around his thrusting cock. But words weren't important. What counted was the way I twitched my bottom for him, the way that he got his middle linger between my velvety soft cuntal lips and started to use it on me like a miniature version of his penis.

I was wet, sloppy wet, and ready as I'd ever be. His finger plumbed me, causing more and more wetness to flow inside, and I closed my snatch on him, milking his finger with the muscles I'd begun to develop down there. Greg thrust happily into my sucking cuntal tightness, and I paid him in kind, my mouth sucking up his cock the way my pussy ate his finger.

But it could be better still. I wanted him to lick me now, to probe with his tongue where he now had his finger, and I gave my buttocks a heaving twist that plopped my crotch onto his face.

Greg tried to say something, but he could hardly speak with his mouth full of my cunt, and he gave up the attempt. Instead, he got his hands on my ass, prying the tight-cheeked hillocks further apart, and he started to work me over with his tongue.

To be honest, he didn't do a very good job. He'd been okay with his finger, but he seemed to lick everyplace except where I needed it. I don't believe he ever found my clit, though it was sticking out so hard and hot that it should have burnt the end of his tongue off with even the slightest contact. The end result of it was to frustrate the hell out of me, because I wanted to be eaten, and I'd put myself where he couldn't help but eat me, and here he was, muffing it.

But even if he wasn't so great, he was enthusiastic, and his tongue seemed to be as long as his cock, and I had a pretty good notion that I could train him to eat me the way I wanted to be eaten. The talent was there. All I had to do was channel it.