Ron Taylor: High school hot pants

I was torn between desires. I wanted Greg's cum in my mouth, but I also wanted his cock in my pussy, and I couldn't be sure we had enough time to get it off orally, then swing into a hot fuck from scratch. So, reluctantly, regretfully, I uncocked my mouth and purred into the summer warmth of the room, "Greg, darling, will you please throw me onto my back and fuck my buns off, like you promised?"

Such a sweet, sultry, inviting voice – what could the dear boy do but flip me over, arrange me on my back, and get between my legs? I brought my feet up, resting the backs of my ankles on his broad strong shoulders as he knelt there, and I looked down my belly at the wet, red lance jutting outward from his loins. I'd made it wet, I'd made it red, I'd turned it into the ready, randy lance that it was at this moment, and shouldn't I have the honor of leading it into my hungry snatch?

I reached down, taking him by the cock, and I lined him up with my pouty twat. Pouty, yes, the way a spoiled child is pouty, and aching with the need, the desire to have him balls deep and rutting away in my female wound. "Here," I said, rubbing the tip of him on my slit, through the spit-matted clump of my pubic hair. "Here is where I want you!" and with that I placed the end of Greg's tool against my waiting hole.

He started to push toward me, but he was a beat too slow. I'd already gone into a writhing that brought me quivering and sighing at him, and his dick trembled as it vanished up my sucking maw of a pussy. "Come on," I panted, "you've gotta help, too, baby!"

Oh, he helped! He got his hands around my upraised thighs and started to pound his peter into me as I bounced my ass to meet his thrusts. He went deep, and he reamed massively, and I twisted and wiggled with squeals of passion and zeal.

"See?" I whispered, "you're great! Fanfuckingtastic!"

"Yeah," he agreed, his eyes bright and sweat beading on his head and chest. "With you it's perfect!"

As we fucked I reached down to pet my pussy, and I made sure to fondle and rub the clitoral nubbin Greg had overlooked while he was eating me.

"Here," he said, "let me touch you, too," and his hand moved into the fray alongside mine. He stroked at first with no apparent plan, but he soon noticed that I was paying a lot of attention to one special spot, and he moved there, too. "What's this?" he asked when his fingers touched my clit.

"Keep rubbing," I croaked, dry-throated from lust, "and you'll find out!"

That did it as far as I was concerned. With his cock ramming deeply, fiercely, with his hand busy and energetic an my sex trigger while my own fingers pulled and tweaked and twisted my stiff, aching nipples, all I had to do was lie there and soak in it. My first come struck me without warning, and I screamed and bucked and it must have startled Greg, because he stopped fucking for a moment.

"Work, Goddamn you!" I squealed. He got the message, and he redoubled his efforts. My clitoral region was afire beneath his fingers and my pussy rippled in contractions that sucked up his dick, then spat it out. He had to do precious little beyond keep his cock where it belonged.

And the harder he stroked my clit, the more apparent it became to me that I was about to have another climax, more intense than the first. What a beautiful day this is, I told myself, allowing that come to hit me like a big ocean wave, and as it faded there was still another to take its place. I stopped thinking about that time and threw all my energies into my blinding, shattering response.

So much so that I scarcely noticed when Greg's own explosion came. I was vaguely aware that his cock had begun to rabbit-fuck inside me, driving in and out with desperate, penetrating jabs, and I think I felt the shudders of him as he unloaded deep in my cunt, but by then I was nearly numb from the intensity of what my own body was feeling, and the most important thing I drew from Greg was the warm closeness that seemed to radiate from his body as we rocked and bucked and thrust together in our own private realms of excitement.

And when it was over, when the waves had subsided and my body sprawled in contentment with their passing, when Greg's tool had popped from my cunt to allow the seepage of thick streams of our fuck juice, when we lay together side by side, kissing and purring and touching each other where it felt best, he looked into my eyes and I looked into his and we saw only pleasure and delight.

"One more, time?" I asked, and there seemed to be an echo in the room. Until I realized that he had asked me precisely the same question just as I spoke. We both laughed, and he put his lips to my breasts while my hand sought out his dick, and I hoped we could get at least one more fuck in before his family arrived from Columbus.

We did, and we even managed to get downstairs and into our clothes before the Pettits pulled up in front of the house. Jill squealed happily when she saw me standing with Greg beside the front door.

"Oh, Didi!" she hollered, running across the lawn. She took my hands and bounced on her heels, eyeing me this way and that before leaning in to plant a kiss an my cheek. "How are you?" she asked breathlessly. "Why didn't you write? Did you get my last letter? I said some kinda nasty things in it, but I didn't mean any of them! Honest! You look funny. Is something wrong with you, Di? Have you been sick or something?"

I wondered if she could tell by looking at me that I'd just gone twice round the Horn with her incredibly sexy stud of a big brother. They say that a girl's eyes look different once she's been busted. Maybe that's what she noticed. But, no. It couldn't be. I looked back at Jill, and she seemed to be exactly the same as always. No telltale hints of knowledge, of experience, lurking in her blue eyes, no sneaky wrinkles at the corners of her mouth, no smirky set to her chin. She looked like the same old Jill.

"How come you're back so early?" I asked. "You were supposed to stay another week." My voice dropped. "Or am I treading on dangerous ground?"

"Huh?" she asked, clearly not understanding. "Oh, the weather was hideous. It rained half the time, and it was cold the rest. Look at me. Spend three weeks on the beach and – God, Di, you got a better tan in Albany than I did in South Carolina!"

It was true. She looked pale. Her parents had already gone into the house, greeting me on the way. Greg followed them, giving me a look of love with his eyes, Jill didn't even notice. "C'mon," she said, "help me carry my stuff up. I have a present for you. It's a poster of The Fonz. I saw it and knew you'd love it. He's got this hoody grin on his face, and he's holding his hands up, so, c'mon, Didi!"

As soon as we got into her room, while she was rummaging through her vacation luggage for my present, I shut the door firmly and turned to face her. "For Christ's sake, Jill!" I exploded, "you are talking about everything under the sun except what I want to hear. How many guys did you make it with, all told?"

She looked up. "Guys?" I nodded. Jill's eyes sparkled and she began to laugh in her silvery voice. "What are you talking about, Didi?"

"Your letters," I said. "Kerry, Ned with the yacht, the three guys who were doing it to you at once…"

Her laughter became almost hysterical. I started to blush because I couldn't see what was funny.

"For-for God's sake!" she sputtered. Jill managed to get partial control of herself and she sat down on the edge of the bed. "Weren't those letters gorgeous?" she trilled. "Be honest with me, Didi – I bet you frigged yourself while you read them, didn't you? Did they turn you on? God, sometimes I'd be writing and I'd start to tinge inside, and I'd have to reach down and rub my clit till I could calm down enough to go on writing. But I showed you, didn't I? You're not the only one who can cook it up."