Ron Taylor: High school hot pants

"Yes, Didi! Suck my cum! Drink me! Drink all of my cum!" he wailed, fucking furiously into my mouth while I sucked and drank and swallowed. My eyes were shut as tightly as my mouth was locked upon his ramming pecker, and I didn't even think about Jill, watching from no more than a foot away. She was my friend. We'd done this together. I should be sharing the delights with her, hut my greed for her brother's semen was too hot, too strong to be denied.

He creamed like an oil well coming into gusher. My cheeks were full of it, my throat clogged wan the sticky, sweet fluid, and thin trails of his jism seeped from the edges of my mouth. And still I felt him pulse and thrust and explode as he unloaded his seed.

And when the spurts ceased at last, his cock didn't go soft. Not at all! It remained in my mouth, kept hard by my nonstop vigil of sucking, and when I finally let him go, he was as stiff and as fierce as when we had started. "Now," I gasped, leaning back on the sunbathed tiles. My legs parted naturally, invitingly, and the reddish pink of my pussy went onto display, coercing him to enter with his manhood. "I want you to fuck me now, Greg," I purred. "Make me a woman with your big, beautiful cock!!"

He threw himself upon me like a madman. Obviously my sucking, my gluttony with the cum of his first orgasm, the wanton freedom with which I offend myself – all these were combining to make Greg desire me as much as I desired and needed him.

He took my tits in his big strong hands and he squeezed them till I thought the pink-capped mounds would burst like abused balloons. I writhed and twisted, feeling his cock bang me on legs, on tummy, and his mouth covered mine in a kiss that taught me, for the first time, what kissing was all about. His tongue was in my mouth, and my tongue in his, and our legs were tied in knots that might never be undone. I felt his hard manhood resting between my thighs, its thick, hot, damp barrel scraping ceaselessly back and forth on the slit of my cunt, and the sensation took my breath away. I moaned, I gasped, I screamed my need and pleasure into the skies above us.

"Now! Please! Don't wait another second! Greg, darling, fuck me, fuck me, or I'll die!"

"My God," Jill said, not entirely in displeasure, "I feel so funky dirty I ought to take a bath! You have an imagination and a half, Didi. Bet you could make some money writing dirty books. Anyway, he is my brother, so it would have to be just the two of you and besides, take a look. The neighbors can see the patio and pool from their living room and from their kitchen, not to mention the upstairs bath."

"Yeah," I said glumly, "I suppose you're right. But it was good while it lasted." Down by the pool Greg was finishing up his exercises, unaware that he'd just played a starring role in my dreamiest fantasy yet. And that's all it would ever be – a fantasy, I reminded myself. A fantasy compounded by too much reading in sex novels where people spent twenty-four hours a day fucking and sucking, not even bothering to take time off for meals or sleep. That, and the usual adolescent longings. How come I could be so aggressive and forceful in my dreams, but when it came to real, flesh and blood boys, I was too nervous to open my Goddamned mouth? I suppose it could have been worse. I could have been a wallflower in my fantasies, too. That would have been an unbearable bummer.

What wasn't? Tomorrow afternoon Jill and Greg and their parents were going off for a month's vacation by the sea, and I'd be stuck here in the middle of Ohio, all by myself for four lousy weeks. With Jill away I wouldn't have anyone to talk to even, let alone share my secret dreams and wishes with. Was I supposed to chat with my mom and, in the process, tell her about this dreamy fantasy I had of getting fucked by Tony Orlando or Robert Redford or Jill's big brother Greg? Fat chance!

Horseshit! Why couldn't Mom and Daddy have let me go along with Jill and her family? I'd been invited, but my parents said no, I didn't need to be running off, so here I was. Stuck. About the only thing I could look forward to doing the next month was a lot of masturbating. What else was there, for God's sake? I felt alone and deserted already, even with Jill standing beside me. It was like she was already gone.

She went across the room toward her bed, stripping off the tiny new bikini as she walked. Picking up her shorts and halter she turned in my direction, and I had a quick glimpse of her naked front – the little-mouthed smile, the soft, brown tipped boobs, the auburn thatch of her beaver which I'd helped trim into shape for the nude look of summer. I wished, then, that we weren't so grown-up and sophisticated. It would be nice to tell her goodbye by rolling on the bed the way we did when we were kids. I'd kiss her lips and chew daintily at her nipples, and she could do the same for me. We'd get all sweaty and musky, and our pussies would be so drippy-warm and ready that fingers would slide into the slippery depths with no trouble at all, and we could moan and sigh together as we climaxed like angels in heaven. Maybe – now that I knew it was a normal thing to do – I'd even be brave enough to part her cunny lips with my fingers and use my tongue on the coral pink slickness inside, and of course she'd have to do the same for me. I wondered how it felt to have a tongue working on your cunt. I used to wonder about that a lot. The books all said it was ecstasy unrestrained, and I wished I knew how ecstasy unrestrained felt, because I didn't have the least idea.

But Jill was dressing, and clearly she didn't share my ideas about the proper way for two girl friends to say goodbye for a month. Oh, it was kid stuff anyway. We hadn't known what we were doing, really, till after we quit doing it and got a little older and wiser. Now it was too late, to recapture the innocence of the past. Who even wanted to?

We needed guys, guys of our own, to do all the magic things to us that so far we'd only been able to dream about.

"I wish you were coming with me," Jill sighed, tying her halter into place. It covered her titties like a coat of paint, and her nipples were thick and obvious in the fabric. She smoothed her hand across them, then looked at me with a shy smile. "Wow," she confessed, "sometimes they still ache the way they did when they were filling out. Remember? And I get so horny, Didi! I'll bet we could find ourselves some male talent if we were cruising the beach together. Guys who weren't afraid of our being so tall and ugly, guys who'd want nothing more than to ball our brains out. If we have any brains, I mean," she giggled. "God, I may even give it a try without you! I don't think I can live through this summer if I don't get some, and I'm not talking about a tan!"

"Lots of luck," I said flippantly, but I knew exactly what she meant.

"C'mon," she said, "Mom and Daddy aren't home yet. We can sneak a couple of beers out of the refrigerator and get tight before they come in." It looked like the best available, so I followed her downstairs, my heart riding inside me a little lower than my ass.

Six draggy days later I got Jill's first letter. I should tell you now that she is a compulsive letter writer. She loves to do it. When we were in sixth grade, and I was out of school for a week with measles, she wrote me every day – six, seven, once a ten-pager. It was that way every time we were separated for very long, and when I saw the envelope in the morning mail, I knew this vacation would certainly be no exception. So I grabbed a can of sugarfree and went to my room to read the news from my old buddy. Ten minutes later, after stifling an unplanned scream of shock, I decided I'd better walk down to the park and finish reading it:

Dear Didi,

I haven't seen you in three days, almost, and it seems like a month at least. So many things to tell you already, and we've only just gotten settled in here. We're staying in a hotel on the beach, and it's fabulous – sorta like Las Vegas by the sea, except that there's no gambling, of course, and no gangsters. At least, none that look like gangsters, but you remember Al Pacino in Godfather? He didn't look like a hood, but he sure was.