Author Unknown - Glenda gets hers

The first time Glenda got hers, she was a saucy young thing of eighteen. A recent graduate of Potter's Bluff High, Glenda was a red-haired beauty whose vivacious personality, gorgeous looks and big, bouncy knockers guaranteed her popularity wherever she went.

Glenda Farrell was an only child. She lived with her Police Chief father, Rupert, in a small, quaint, wood frame house on Lothario Drive on the outskirts of Potter's Bluff. Glenda had been spoiled by her parents, and when her mother died, Rupert had been even more indulgent of his precious little princess.

Consequently, Glenda had grown up with a lot of nerve. She was used to getting what she wanted when she wanted it, and without a great deal of effort.

Things got even better when, in the ninth grade, a physical phenomenon had occurred. Glenda Farrell had sprouted a pair of enormous breasts, almost over night! Her fine, thrusting titties, straining against her clinging pink cashmere sweaters became something of a fixture at Potter's Bluff High, and scores of horny adolescent boys jerked off dreaming of burying their pimply faces between those stupendous hills of flesh.

As a senior, Glenda was head cheerleader, Vice President of the student body, and the student voted Most Popular, Best Looking, and Most Likely To Succeed.

Glenda liked sex. She'd lost her cherry in the ninth grade and had spread her legs for a lot guys by the time she was eighteen. But she'd quickly learned then if she went steady with one guy for very long, he started getting possessive and cramped her style.

Glenda didn't like to be told what to do. She enjoyed being a free-wheeling, happy-go-lucky social butterfly with no anchors or restraints. Because of this, she obtained a bit of a reputation for being a heart-breaker and a cock-tease.

Glenda had enrolled for a year at the Madagaskilla County Junior College. She was biding her time before moving east to seek fame and fortune as a model. She'd done some local modeling and quite enjoyed it, and flattered herself that becoming an international sensation was only a matter of time.

She was quite content for the time being to take a light course load at MCJC and frolic happily with her large circle of friends for one more year before seriously pursuing any kind of a career.

One thing she knew for certain. She did not want to just get married and settle down and have a litter of brats and get fat and ugly. The mere thought of such a future was enough to make her shudder in horror.

No, Glenda Farrell was going to be a wild thing, untamed and free, skipping merrily down life's uneven, sometimes perilous path, unfettered by any silly little restrictions and bothers.

Our story opens one balmy April evening. Glenda Farrell had decided, quite calmly and suddenly, that she was going to dump Hank Rigorettino. He was getting too "heavy". She'd put up with it for a while, because, after all, he was Hank Rigorettino, absolutely the hottest hunk at MCJC. And she loved parading her captive around in front of her envious girl-friends.

But, really, enough was enough! He wanted to know everything she did when she wasn't with him, and complained when she broke a date, and he was always trying to get her to suck him off.

Glenda Farrell didn't like to suck boys off. It was boring and it made her jaw sore. She liked to be fucked, though most of the time even that was pretty ho-hum. Even with Hank Rigorettino…

Glenda glanced at him now. She was sitting next to Hank in his scarlet convertible as they cruised down Pilsner Boulevard. My, he was good-looking!

Hank was nineteen, tall and well-built, with short-cropped straw blond hair, a white-toothed grin, boyishly attractive, even features and a gorgeous tan. Tonight, he wore a tee shirt which clung to the beefy contours of his "V" shaped, hard-muscled torso and a pair of thread-bare blue jeans which hugged his crotch becomingly.

Glenda regarded herself in her compact mirror, and beamed with self-satisfaction. She looked radiant! Her thick, russet red hair flowed in heavy, glossy curls around her slender, alabaster white shoulders, framing the delicately featured oval of her face.

Her almond-shaped, deceptively sleepy eyes were hazel with long, droopy lashes. She had a tiny upturned button of a nose. Her lips were full and sulky and ruby red. She had a cute way of sticking out her lower lip and pouting playfully while she batted her lashes at a guy. It was one of her most powerful weapons.

She had a slender, swan-like neck, and she wore a revealing cornflower blue dress with a plunging neck-line and shoulder straps. A great deal of the full, swollen globes of her breasts was exposed. You could see the pert erections of her nipples quite clearly through the thin, clinging fabric of her dress.

Her long, lithe legs were revealed below the shockingly high hem-like of that skimpy garment. She had a dainty pair of coral pink pumps on her sweet little feet.

Hank had been drinking. His face had that dull, rosy flush which Glenda had become a little too accustomed to. His arm was slung around the back of her seat and he was driving a bit too fast.

"Where are you going?" Glenda asked a little irritably.

"Thought we might cruise down Lothario Lane before I take you home," Hank said with a sly grin, turning down a dirt road.

"Oh, come on. Hank!" Glenda exclaimed. "I've got a splitting head-ache!"

"Yeah? Well, I've got a raging hardon!" Hank growled huskily.

He pulled the convertible into the shade under an elegant elm tree and turned towards her. She could hardly see him in the shadows, and she saw that he was fumbling around with something.

He caught hold of her hand and pulled it into his lap. Glenda gave an exclamation as she felt the throbbing heat of his meaty boner against her unwilling fingers.

"Feel how hard I am, baby!" Hank hissed seductively, making his pecker pulsate as he drew her fingers up and down on it. "Yeah! I need some satisfaction, sugar! C'mon! Why don't you just suck it a little? I swear to God I won't come in your mouth!"

"Oh, goodness, Hank, you are so juvenile!" Glenda exclaimed acidly, jerking back her hand. "Put that thing away at once and drive me home! Honestly, sometimes you are the limit!"

She folded her arms and stared out the window, tapping her foot angrily on the floor of the car. Hank shifted on the seat and she heard him take a gulp from his flask of whiskey.

"God! You really are a boozer! I must be crazy to let you drive me around when you're always drinking like a fish!" Glenda cried.

"Listen, Glenda," Hank said huskily. "You're my girl. You should have some respect. Any other girl would be pleased as punch if I wanted to go out with them."

"Respect?!" Glenda shrieked, her hazel eyes flashing. "You arrogant beast! You should kiss the ground I walk on! I'm going places, Hank Rigorettino, and you don't have any role in my future! Now, you take me home right this minute or I'm walking!"

"Then get out, bitch," Hank snarled, and there was a dark fury in his voice she had never heard before. "Get the fuck out and don't ever come around me any more, you stuck-up cock-tease!"

In the midst of her shock and indignation, Glenda felt a tiny flurry of strange excitement at the pit of her belly. No guy had ever dared talk like that to her before! There was something thrilling about it! She was pissed off, of course, but she was secretly delighted that Hank Rigorettino had shown her that he had balls, after all!

"Well! You don't have to be such a rude thing!" Glenda said huffily, tossing her hair.

"Listen, bitch," Hank said roughly. "I've put up with just about enough shit from you. You got two choices. Get down and suck my schlong or get your ass out of my car. Make up your mind, because I don't have any time to waste."