R Finch - No longer virgin

He lingeringly kissed her on the mouth, lay buried to the hilt in her, the curly hair between their damp thighs meshed tightly together. He kissed along her smooth cheek until he was nibbling at her ear, then moved slowly back to her mouth.

Wendy attempted to move, took it very slowly and carefully. "Does that feel good?" she murmured, was tensing the muscles deep within her loins. "Do you like that?"

"You're so damned hot and tight in there, I can't believe it!" Marshall managed. "It feels like you're sucking on me with your pussy when you move like that! It's even making my balls tighten up!"

Wendy giggled, reached between his legs from behind, touched lightly at the fleshy pouch hanging there, gently stroked what felt to her like two walnuts suspended in oil. They bobbed away from her fingers, were difficult to restrain.

Marshall started to move his hips against her with short, almost bouncing, thrusts, slowly, then gradually increasing the tempo, was met each time by Wendy's hot moist crotch, her strong thighs pumping yet more quickly, more urgently with each stroke of his pistoning hardness. Wendy's muffled sighs rapidly became hoarse groans, then changed abruptly to sharp little cries of pleasure, her supple body yielding to his, squirming beneath him. She thrashed with her bare legs, was becoming tangled with the sleeping bag, tried to kick herself free, was hopelessly entangled.

Marshall hammered at her with his body, was driving the full length of his pumping cock into her with quicker and quicker thrusts, was engorging her cunt with his hard shaft, inflaming the tight passage.

"It's so far IN!" Wendy moaned, twisted against him. "Your cock feels so good! I… I love it, Marsh. Oh!" His hands were clenching at her back, at the undersides of her writhing thighs, at her sweaty, pumping buttocks. "Oh, Marsh, I love it! Oh, God! I love you fucking me! I love your cock!"

He was ramming his rigid shaft deeply into her, the base of it grinding against her wildly throbbing clit, pivoting on it almost, tightening the tension of her ravenous desire and stretching her into a taut squirming wire. Her young body, glistening with perspiration, bucked wildly beneath him, the quivering warmth of her churning vaginal muscles pulling wetly at his driving cock, sucking on it almost, lusting for the thick shaft of it to penetrate the pink heat yet more deeply.

"Fuck me, Marsh!" Wendy groaned. "Fuck me faster! Oh goddamn! Ram it in deeper. Deeper!" She writhed and thrashed, her hot thighs urging him on, faster and faster, her pumping buttocks digging into the ground. His battering cock was slamming up into her, pounding her wildly.

She was an animal in heat, delirious with the wanton ecstasy surging through her loins, was conscious only of the ramming stiff cock that gutted her senses. A profusion of ragged moans and sobs suddenly escaped her lips, and she was inside out, her crackling nerve ends exposed, her straining muscles convulsing.

"Oh, fuck!" she cried, was on fire, overwhelmed by the shuddering spasms that flailed her.

"I… oh! Oh, shit! Fuck!!"

Marshall was suddenly filling her with hot liquid, squirting it up into her, his action as frenzied as hers, his arms squeezing the breath from her. He ground into her once more, his teeth clamped to her neck, then was lifeless.

They lay in a sweat-covered haze, the night air cool on them and growing cooler, oblivious to everything but each other.

Marshall and Wendy drove into Los Angeles and were hurrying to beat the infamous rush-hour traffic. Wendy could see the mountains, had only a vague notion of where the ocean might be, supposed it was somewhere ahead of them still. She knew it was very close by, of course, as she had at least partially chosen Los Angeles as the city to run to because of its proximity to the water.

"God!" she said with some awe. "Just think. Hollywood, Beverly Hills, Disneyland…" and Marshall glanced at her with a smile, seemed to be only half-listening to her, "the Pacific Ocean, mountains, woods, everything! Why would anyone want to live anywhere else?"

"Hard to say," Marshall shrugged. "But, most do, of course. Roots, I suppose. Family and that type of thing."

"Say, listen," Marshall started, and he sounded suddenly very serious, caused Wendy to glance at him. "I've been thinking. You really don't have anywhere to go out here – nothing specific, that is – so why don't you come along and stay with me at my uncle's place? I'm sure they could find room for you. And I'd sure miss the hell out of you if you didn't."

Wendy was silent, did not really know how to answer him.

"Well?" Marshall asked, smiled at her. "What are you sitting there thinking about for so long? It should be an easy decision."

"I can't, Marsh," she looked away. "I'm sorry. I'm going to get a place on my own, I guess."

He drove on silently, was apparently surprised at her answer, had probably decided much earlier that she would go with him and that his asking her was only a formality.

"But, why?" he asked finally. "I was kind of getting to thinking of us as… well, more than just friends."

"We are more than just friends, Marsh. You're special to me. You'll always be special to me. And I'm glad that I'm special to you. It's just that I have to try to make it on my own first. I have to at least try."

"Let me help you make it on your own, then," he said. "Come and stay with me. I'll be working soon and we'll get a place for ourselves."

"I'm sorry, Marsh," she said, realized that he cared for her even more than she'd thought, felt even worse now. "I'm really sorry. I've already made up my mind."

He said after what seemed like a very long silence, "At least let me give you my Uncle Jack's phone number. Then you can call when you're settled and I'll come and see you. Now that I know you, I just can't pretend I never met you."

"Sure!" Wendy said brightly. "Where does your uncle live, anyway? Right in the city?"

"In the San Fernando Valley," Marshall said, seemed cheered somewhat at the prospect of seeing her again. "It's not too far, I don't think." He paused, then asked her, "Where do you want me to drop you? Do you have any idea?"

"Hollywood," Wendy said without hesitation. "I'll get a motel room tonight, then start looking for an apartment tomorrow."

"I'll take you to a motel in Hollywood, then. There's no sense in just dropping you off and letting you wander on foot trying to find one."

"Thanks, Marsh, I'd appreciate it. You've been so good to me, I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

He said, "Just don't forget to call me after you're situated, that's all. That'll be repayment enough, believe me."

"Don't you worry about that," she smiled at him. "I'll call you as soon as I find an apartment. I'll call you right away."

Wendy looked up at the huge three-story frame house before her. It had been divided, and possibly even subdivided, into a maze of many small apartments. She glanced around critically – the area didn't impress her as being a particularly dangerous section. And it was clean. More importantly, it had been within walking distance of the Belmar Motel where she'd spent the night before and so had been fairly easy to find.

She carried the classified section of the newspaper with her, had circled in pencil an ad under the "Apartments to Share" heading, was now at the address. The ad said simply that the apartment offered was on the second floor, was $25 a week – the only thing Wendy had found that she could afford, much to her dismay, and to "See Sherry Hartman".

Wendy looked up at the house again, tucked the newspaper under her arm, and walked up the walk to the ornate front door. She looked over the four rows of buttons alongside the door, each with a small name tag beside it, found the one with "SHERRY HARTMAN" typed on it, and pressed the buzzer. When there was no answer, she pressed it again, jumped slightly when the rusted intercom speaker crackled and a feminine voice said, "Yes?"