Roman Hans - Hot and horny Holiday

The nightmare was the same. Dee Dee, barely sixteen and virginal, lay writhing, naked, strapped spread-eagled on the bed, awaiting the onslaught of the faceless man's huge, throbbing, threatening cock as he poised between her legs. She lay trembling in her innocence and terror yet seemed to be above it all, a disembodied, spiteful spirit, heckling, nagging and screaming, "Fuck her…stick it in her hot hole… fuck her, she wants it." The spirit was right, she did want it but feared his terrible pole of meat. She had to be too small, it would split her in two.

Dee Dee was barely five feet and didn't weigh a hundred pounds. Her wheat-colored, billowy, shoulder-length hair flared about her childlike face. Her brown eyes were innocent pools of promise, and her small pouting wet lips seemed to beg for kissing or to encircle and suck tenderly on a pulsating prick. Her skin was pinkish white satin over a perfectly proportioned size 3 doll body. Only her breasts marred the symmetrical proportion. They were firm, voluptuous milky globes of hidden sexual pleasure but slightly too large for her body. Her waist was ridiculously tiny. Her broad hips flared heart-sllaped to sponge rubber soft legs. Although only sixteen, Dee Dee was a grown woman. Still, the faceless man's cock was as thick and as long as her arm.

A hideous laugh erupted from somewhere behind his blurred mask as he savagely battered her knees apart then poised his throbbing cudgel at her quivering, virginal, wanting cunt lips. However, when he lunged, instead of the feeling of pain or pleasure, or whatever it was a cock entry into her salivating furnace should feel like, there was nothing but frustration. The heat of her needing quim melted his wondrous wax prick as fast as he drove it in, and she awoke again, panting, trembling, and unfulfilled.

Damn, what was the matter with her? Why was she saving herself? Was her Aunt Clara correct, was intercourse a painful, dirty, ugly thing or was Auntie wrong?

The girls in her class were split. Some said it was heaven once you were broken and even the breaking was in doubt. Sara and Joy claimed it didn't hurt a bit. Alice, Mary, and Sue, and others, said it hurt awfully bad. Sara laughed them off and said they had picked a boy to do a man's job. Others agreed with her Aunt and said it was dirty, ugly and that all men were animals. Dee Dee shook her head in confusion and indecision while unconsciously knelling at the dull ache so deep behind her hard flat stomach muscles.

That damn ache. When did it come? How long had she had it? Then she remembered it had appeared after her first masturbation a year or so ago. That's when it started, but why wouldn't it go away? It was an ache yet not an ache. An itch, yet more. It was like a craving for sweets, or dill pickles, or, or… heaven help her, cock. Yes. that's what she wanted, a man's prick stuck in her. But she was afraid. She was so terribly small.

What did it feel like? Dee Dee allowed her fingers to explore herself. Her mons veneris rose softly from her velutinous stomach like a gentle silken-haired hill, then sloped to her pouty hot, love-juiced slick cunt. Dee Dee knew she couldn't get at the ache but at least she could… Oh yes!! She cupped her swollen cunt and gently rub-pressed in a circular motion. Oh yes! Yes! The warmth appeared slowly, but nudging and agitating her ache-monster. She rubbed faster, harder. The warmth turned into a pleasurable glow, to a luxurious blanket of sensual joy. Oh God! Oh shit! How could this be ugly, dirty? She kicked the sheets off her and lifted her splayed knees high while dancing her fingers over her demanding hot love hole. It felt so good… so good. She slammed her fingers around the puffy, wet, pleasurable cunt lips and felt the slippery silkiness of her vulva. God! Her cunt was alive. It was actually drawing her finger into the erogenous chalice, begging her to soothe and ease her growling ache-monster. She shouldn't do it… she couldn't… then, she bit her lip. To hell with it. She had to try. She cautioned her finger in and felt for the craving so deep in her belly.

The sudden pain made her wince and gasp. Her cherry! Her maidenhead! She withdrew her finger, cupped her quim and rubbed frantically to restore the pleasure. Oh God! It felt good! Good! Good! The heat again turned to joy, to bliss, to rapture, to… She was going to come. Oh God! Oh God! She arched her back and lifted her flaming, swollen quim high and rubbed frantically to still the terrible itch behind her cherry. It helped some, but she needed cock, prick, fucking, fucking, fucking! Ohh! Ohr! She clutched her teeth as the building rapturous joy radiated from her wet, burning hole to every fiber in her body. She was going to… to…

She thrashed and bucked while rubbing wantonly at her volatile, explosive, drooling slot. Her head was slamming from side to side in ecstatic agony. "EI! EI!" She tensed, suspended, her whole body frozen except for her quivering fingers. Then the exquisite bliss exploded, rocketed throughout her body and blew her mind. Oh God! Oh God! She jerked from the spasm then collapsed on the bed.

She was spent and drained but contented. She lay until she caught her breath, then rose reluctantly to ready for school. She was satisfied, wasn't she? The masturbation had stilled her chewing monster hadn't it? She moved cautiously to the bathroom and entered the shower. It seemed to be gone. Maybe she didn't have to worry about getting broken-in. Maybe her problem was over. Oh, she hoped so. The decision to become a woman or not had been driving her crazy. The dull ache-monster began growling again as she soaped her vagina in the shower. Damn! Shit! What was she going to do?

Aunt Clara reminded Dee Dee, as she had every day since old Mr. Doyle had left on his vacation, "Don't forget to feed Mr. Doyle's birds and take in his mail."

"Yes, Aunt Clara."

"And take your umbrella. It's raining out."

It was that. Darn, she hated to walk in the rain. Hated it, hated it, hated it! She got the umbrella, picked up her lunch and kissed Aunt Clara a peck on the cheek.

"Oh no you don't!" Aunt Clara encircled her with soft warm arms and hugged. "You never leave the house without giving me some sugar." She tried to kiss Dee Dee's mouth, but Dee Dee gave her a cheek instead. "Now straight home with you. We have to give your room a thorough going over tonight. Hear?"

Dee Dee gave her a smile and left the house. Aunt Clara sure was a strange one, insisting on hugging and kissing her, treating her like a child. We do the room tonight! Nuts! I'll be the one who does the room while she just stands and gripes. What I ought to do is let her watch me masturbate.

It was really pouring. Dee Dee aimed the umbrella into the storm and ran the two houses down to Mr. Doyle's. She fed the parakeets then checked the house for open windows. The upstairs bedroom was open and rain was splattering onto the dresser. Dee Dee closed the window then found herself an unobserved window pecker as she looked directly down and into the Raft's kitchen window. Good Heavens!!! Mrs. Raft wasn't behaving at all as Dee Dee expected or thought she would.

Mrs. Raft was old, maybe forty or forty-two, and a prim, tight-lipped, church-going God-shouter. She wore her mousy brown hair in a tight bun, dressed in high-necked, baggy, plain dresses and walked about in black, low-heeled no-nonsense shoes. Dee Dee had never thought of her as a woman, nor believed in a million years that Mrs. Raft would be doing what she was doing right now.

Dee Dee shied to the side of the window so Mrs. Raft couldn't see her if she looked up, even though Dee Dee knew she wouldn't. No woman would, doing what Mrs. Raft was doing.

Oh Jesus! Oh Jesus! Dee Dee raised her skirt and felt for her glowing, oozing, itching crevice. Mrs. Raft was sitting on the edge of the kitchen table and leaning back on her hands. Her hair was hanging loose, her robe was open, exposing a thin pasty body, and her legs were around the waist of bare-assed, fat Mr. Thomas, the milkman.