Roman Hans - Hot and horny Holiday

Mr. Thomas had his mouth over one of Mrs. Raft's small, baggy titties and was… was fucking her!

Oh Jesus!! Dee Dee rubbed at her flaming pussy. He was fucking her! Dee Dee couldn't actually see his cock but there was no doubt. Mrs. Raft's head was back, her eyes shut, her mouth contorting in soundless words as she tried to push more of her glistening breast into his mouth and draw him nearer with her scissor-thigh grip. He sucked and nuzzled and chewed her titties while his ass moved slowly back and forth, back and forth.

Oh God! Fucking had to be good. Aunt Clara had to be wrong. Dee Dee worked her fingers under her panties and tickled and teased her love-juiced, slippery vulva lips. Shivers of lustful delight cascaded throughout her body. Oh!!! Fucking had to, be good! She eased her finger up and gently rubbed her hard erect clitoris.

"Mmmmmm! Mmmmmm!" she moaned. The volatile clitty radiated delicious currents of erotic electricity and probe-teased her itchy ache-monster.

Mr. Thomas was driving into Mrs. Raft hard now. He was holding her ass completely off the table, his teeth and mouth clamped on her tit. He was really ramming it into her.

Dee Dee's breasts were full, straining and aching her, nipples hard and hurting against her bra. Just once she wanted to feel what it felt like to have her breasts sucked like that. Just once… "Ohhh." The pleasurable, incandescent glow had thickened to a sensuous, explosive rapture. She rubbed frantically at her leaking, burning cunt for relief… for joy… for… for!!!

She watched Mr. Thomas driving his ass like a pile driver, then stopping suddenly to grind it into Mrs. Raft. He had come. She knew Mrs. Raft was screaming but couldn't actually hear her because of the rain and the distance. Mrs. Raft's mouth was open, her teeth clinched, her arms around Mr. Thomas and she was digging with her fingers. She was coming. But… "Ohhh. Ohh! Ahhh," Dee Dee rubbed and bucked against her palm. She wanted to be fucked… to be fucked… to be fucked! "Ohhh, gaawwdd… " Her vagina disintegrated in ecstatic jerking spasms and she had to stop.

She lay against the wall and caught her breath. Her hand was slippery wet with her come, and she felt like sleeping, but her damned monster was still there. Shit! Shit! She would have to do something. Either stop playing with herself or let some boy fuck her. She looked at the clock on the dresser. It was 7:45 already. Good heavens! She had to get humping or she would be late for school. Then again, maybe she wouldn't be late. She remembered Mr. Doyle's 1932 Model "A" Ford when she saw the car keys next to the clock. Well… now!! Maybe she wouldn't be late and maybe she wouldn't have to walk in the rain after all. She could drive. Her older brother, Bo, had taught her to drive a stick shift a year ago. Why not? What harm could there be if she took the car? Mr. Doyle wouldn't be back for two weeks. Aunt Clara couldn't see down the block this far, and she would be careful. So, why not?

She stripped the cloth cover from the roadster and made a mental note to clean and polish the car when she brought it home after school. It started immediately. Dee Dee knew it would. Mr. Doyle treated it like a baby, always pampering and fixing it. She backed it out, closed the garage doors and started for school a mile away.

The old classic ran beautifully. She was sitting up so high. The wipers flip-flopping away the rain, the motor purring and the sound of raindrops splattering on the tin roof all gave Dee Dee a cozy, safe feeling as it did so many years ago when her mother and father had been alive. They were camped in the woods on rainy nights. She and Bo would huddle in their pup tent and play "Show and Tell" until they were bored, then fall asleep in each other's arms to the sound of the comforting rain. Dee Dee smiled at how dumb she had been for so long. Up until a year or so ago she actually thought the reason for her and Bo being banished to the pup tent was, as her mother had said, "To teach you independence."

Wait!! Show and Tell! Why hadn't she thought of it before? Bo was eighteen now, he would know about maidenheads. And she could talk to him. Bo had always been more than a brother to her. Ever since her mother and father had died in a car accident and Aunt Clara had taken them in, it had been Bo she turned to for comfort and advice.

At twelve it was Bo who had fought Aunt Clara for her first training bra. Bo who chaperoned on her first date. Bo who explained the menstrual cycle of a woman when she first noticed the blood and ran terrified into his room. Bo who always took her side and understood her feelings. So, he was more than a brother. He was her confidant, her strength, her idol, and she loved him.

The rain became a cloudburst at the intersection, obliterating everything beyond the hood. The windshield wipers were useless. Dee Dee waited, confident that it would pass in a minute or two. Damn the ache! Why didn't it go away? She squeezed her thighs together and wiggled, exerting pressure on her itching vagina. It felt good. There was a squealing of tires behind her and almost simultaneously she felt the sickening crash into the rear of the car. Even with her foot on the brake pedal, the car lurched forward. Dee Dee's head snapped backward. She was dazed, confused. What had happened?

Sounds vaguely filled the air, doors opening, excited voices, blurred shapes peeking in the windows. "Naw, she's not hurt… let's get out of here!"

"She could be hurt."

"Come on, let's get out of here! She heard the shuffling of feet, doors opening again, closing… a motor racing, squealing tires. Then a blurred, water-shaped car sped past, fishtailing into the squall.

Dee Dee moved her head and body about. She was okay. But what had happened? The crash… oh my God!!! She scrambled out of the car. Oh no! Her heart seemed to stop, all her juices seeped into her stomach. The chrome bumper was smashed into a concave depression the size of a basketball and forced into the lower trunk. She was going to vomit. Mr. Doyle's pride and joy was destroyed. She held her mouth and swallowed hard. No by God, she wouldn't panic! She had to think, but not out here in the rain. She crawled back into the car. Alright… the damage was done. What was she going to do about it?

Call the police! Where was the phone? Those dirty suckers had hit her and run, that was a crime. The police would catch them. The car started with no trouble at all. Once the police found them they would have to pay for what they done to Mr. Doyle's car. They will… wait! She would have to testify against them in court. Mr. Doyle would find out about taking the car without permission. And, oh my God, what could she tell the police about driving the car? She couldn't call the police. She would have to get the car fixed herself. No, no, she didn't have any money. Wait… Bo! She could borrow it from him. He should have money. He'd worked steady since leaving home last year. Yes, that's it! She could borrow it from Bo and pay him back from what she earned babysitting. Her spirits rose. It was going to be all right. Now, where did Bo say he lived? Oak Street? Yes, in an apartment with two other guys. It was going to be all right… she just knew it would be.

Herbie was just leaving the apartment as she cleared the top step of the three-story walk-up.

"Hold it, Herbie!" She stopped him from closing the door. "Is Bo still home?"

Herbie's eyes took on that same funny look that made her suddenly feel undressed. "Yeah, honey pot. He's on afternoons, still asleep."

"Thanks, I have to talk to him," Dee Dee brushed by him and into the apartment.

"'Throw money or let me pick the way to thank me," Herbie leered at her!

Dee Dee smiled as the door shut and muttered, "Creep!" She checked the kitchen, bath, and one bedroom. "Yoo-Hoo, Bo, where are you!"