Roberta Taylor - Nasty Sharon

Buddy's hand cupped her exposed breast. He whispered, "You sure have big titties, Nancy."

She giggled, "For a girl of fifteen, yes."

Even in those days she had been large-breasted. But such a prude. What hell to have had protruding breasts advertising her maturity, but to be so wrenchingly afraid.

The heat of his hand on her breast made the nipple push out against his palm. It tinged deliciously. She saw his other hand, underwater, trace the line of her hip, caress her thigh, then rise between her legs. At eighteen she would have screamed. At her new eighteen she sighed with pleasure as his palm cupped her pussy. The hand stroked her. She spread her legs before his touch.

Then she reached down, found his slick leg and the swimsuit. She fingered the pouch, lifting it. The escaping cock sprang into her hand.

She gripped the fat root of it. The head touched her arm, seemingly halfway up to her elbow.

She had lost all sense of equilibrium. They were floating now, she clinging to the root of his cock, supported by the hand between her legs, given stability by the one holding her breast.

They drifted under the night sky, alone on a sea of forgetfulness, two people exploring sex on a summer night.

Perfection came when he tugged aside her panties and fingered her split.

Like that they drifted under the moon wheeling through the sky.

In the women's section of the employees' lounge, Buddy and Nancy shared a towel. Drying his face, he looked over the towel at her. She was rubbing the other end across her chin, smiling at him. Her eyes twinkled in the near-darkness.

She had called herself fifteen and now she seemed it, full of giggles and roguish lifts of her eyebrows, smiles popping like bubbles, coltish tosses of her head.

Something had happened out at the pool. This could not be the austere woman who managed the motel, who had glared so sternly at him when he entered.

He drew the towel to him. She held on, smiling arid turning her head as she neared his lips. Her eyes closed. Her tongue and lips seemed to flutter against his. Her mouth was sweet and the nibbling of her lips a dainty invitation to his tongue. He thrust it in, felt hers coil and lash about it.

His hands moved to her shoulders. She palmed his chest. Their kiss lost traction. His lips slipped from her mouth to her cheek. Nancy's wet dress contacted his hot flesh. Her right breast still hung out of the neckline, a plump orb melting into him except for the hard, boring nipple.

He savored the feel of that and the warm smell of her. Her perfume was all but washed away, the remnants smothered by the musky female odor rising from her crotch.

Buddy loved this would-be teenager. The thought that Sharon meant to take her job hurt him. He knew that Sharon had put the two of them together for a purpose. Well, he wouldn't let her harm Nancy.

She whispered, "This dress feels chill."

He unzipped the back. She turned coyly from him to skin out of the wet garment. He studied the lovely curve of her back, her narrow waist, then the big white buttocks stretching her panties.

Rid of the dress, she switched back to him, hiding her breasts against his chest.

She whispered, "Buddy, I'm so happy!"

He closed his arms protectively about her. He felt overcome by tenderness. Oh, he wanted to screw her, all right. His cock burned as it stretched out and jabbed her belly. But that seemed less important than rubbing his cheek on hers, kissing her ear, and now smiling into her eyes.

He said, "I've never had a girl, I mean really a girl of my own, like she's mine because she wants to be."

"I want to be your girl, Buddy."

He kissed her. She sucked softly at his tonguetip. Then she said, "I hated having to grow up. My first boy – Wally was his name – he scared me. At fifteen, I wasn't ready. Still, I got mated eventually. Then my husband said I should be more mature, serious and all that. So I am. I manage the motel as well as a man could, Bud says. But that isn't me. I'm right here. Buddy's girl."

He nodded in agreement. With him she could be what she wanted. He peered down at her breasts, two large white mounds against his chest. He slipped his hands in between them, raising the luscious tits, revealing the huge dark disks and the jutting nipples.

She said, "People always thought I was older because of my big breasts. Do you like them, Buddy?"

"They're beautiful." He sank his fingers into them, kneading and thumbing the robust nipples. He grinned. Yes, they were his to play with. Because Nancy was his girl. He asked, "Can I suck them?"

He saw moisture in her dark, luminous eyes. Her throat worked, as though she was choking up. Then she nodded.

He bent down to them but she whispered, "Sit on that chair. I'll bend over you so they hang out."

He sat on the straight chair as she indicated. Nancy cupped her hands on his shoulders and went down. He looked up at a swollen aureole bigger than his mouth, at the long, thick nipple at its center, at the snowy mound extending to the limits of his vision. He licked the nipple. Nancy made a cooing noise. Her body swayed and the breast swung to one side. He followed it, licking and nibbling the nipple. It swung again. He seized it in his hands now and held it still, suckering his mouth onto it, gulping in meaty fit.

Nancy groaned. "Oh, Buddy, honey! Suck like that and tongue the nipple!"

He washed his tongue about the nipple deep in his mouth while wolfing in more tit.

She complained, "You'll stretch it, Buddy."

He sucked more gently, now eyeing the other breast. Her one hand left his shoulder and went to the other tit. Her fingers forked the nipple and began a milking movement, curling about it and pulling off while thumbing the tip.

Gasping for air, he disgorged his mouthful but quickly turned to the other, replacing her hand and sucking the point to a rigid stem.

That was when he felt fingertips feather across his cockhead. He still wore the baffling suit, pulled to the side. His prick stood straight up. It throbbed as a fingernail teased his glans. Then the touch became a vine spiraling down his length to the root, finding the one ball that hung out of the pouch, closing on it, testing the skin, returning to the upright phallus and then listing it.

He stopped sucking. Her tit fell from his mouth. Nancy groaned and lowered herself further, knees bending, sagging down until she knelt between his feet, her face turned up, mouth open, waiting for his kiss. He kissed her and felt a new urgency in the suction of her mouth, a match for the fist squeezing his cock.

Then she looked at the giant stem sprouting from her hand.

She said, "It's a terribly big penis, Buddy. Somewhat frightening."

"Because you're only fifteen years old," he grinned.

She smiled. She leaned close and kissed the tip of it. Her lips brushed it as she spoke.

"No, I'm not fifteen any more. I'd be shaking with fear. Thank God I'm a grown woman." But then she cocked her head and winked roguishly at him. "But I'll eighteen if I want!"

He laughed.

She extended her tongue and swabbed it about the knob. She turned her attention to his swimsuit, grasping the waistband and pulling them down. Buddy raised his ass and she stripped the apparatus off, stretching it over the length of his cock. Rid of it, she crouched, slipping both hands under his scrotum, holding a ball in each palm. She once again licked his cockhead and then forced her mouth open on it.

Moaning, she went don, sucking.

The swishing of her tongue, the lip-drawing, the feel of his knob in the cool wetness of her working throat, all made Buddy go rigid and jerk his hips, stabbing the mammoth cock deeper into her mouth. She took it too, and he saw her cheeks pull in and mold to the shape of his shank. All this while her fingers toyed with his nuts.