Anonymous: Wet Desires

Her back teeth were clenched. She was grinding her molars together so hard that the muscles at the sides of her face were protruding. Her jaw ached a bit, but the pretty little teenager hardly noticed.

The slight discomfort in the lower half of her face was next to nothing, all but insignificant, compared to the roaring pleasure she was feeling down below.

In her pussy.

Her quivering quim.

Her oozing cooze.

She knew that she had to make herself come, She feared that she would hurt herself, pull a muscle or something, if she kept herself hovering at the edge of orgasm for any longer. She was teetering at the edge of the cliff, yearning to fall down, down, down, into the dark and bottomless abyss of her womanly ecstasy.

She put her forefinger directly on her clit once again, and this time she kept it there.

The little girl kept the tip of her finger perfectly-still at first. She merely alternated the pressure from gingerly to firm and then back to gingerly once again. Then she began to roll her clit in a slow sensuous circle with her fingertip. She rolled that fiery bulb, that hot pink pea, around as if it were a ball bearing floating in a sea of boiling oil.

She didn't have to do that for very long at all before time, for the pretty little girl, stopped. The bombs went off. The earth moved.

She bit her lip to keep from screaming bloody murder with pleasure. She could feel her flesh melting. She could feel the spasms of pleasure starting at her clit, naturally enough, and spreading outward from there. She could feel the pleasure spreading in ever-increasing concentric circles, just like ripples on a smooth pond interrupted by a tossed pebble. The pleasure spread to fill her vulva. The pleasure spread to fill her entire lower torso…

The pretty little virgin could tell that the pleasure was not going to stop spreading until she was enveloped by it, until each and every one of her sexually-aroused never-endings were going berserk with her joyousness.

Martha could feel the pleasure ripping up her spine toward the base of her skull once again.

This time the pleasure did not stop at the base of her skull. As a matter of fact, this time the pleasure did not even pause at the base of her skull. It exploded directly into her already reeling brain. The little girl could feel a fleshquake in her abdomen. She could feel her orgasm in the tips of her fingers. She could feel her orgasm all the way down to her toes. The little girl felt as light as a feather. She felt lighter than air as if she were out in outer space. She felt as if she were levitating. She felt as if she were drifting upward toward the ceiling of her room, spiraling as she went. The little girl felt as if she could feel the world spinning on its axis, and the bizarre thing was that she felt as if she were spinning in precisely the opposite direction. She felt, oddly yet wonderfully, that her spiritual self and her physical self were separating. She felt as if she were astral-projecting, just like Hindus do when they meditate for long stretches of time.

She felt as if her spiritual self were drifting upward toward the ceiling while her physical self remained on the bed, sweating through her dark red bedspread.

She started out rolling her clit with her fingertip slowly and gently, but the little girl steadily increased both the tempo and the pressure of her fingertip's movements as she went along.

Her cunt spasmed.

Her clit convulsed.

Her inner pussy contracted.

She felt as if she were leaving the real world and entering another. She could tell that her right hand was growing to all wet and sticky from the cunt juices that were spilling from her orgasming cunt by the time she was through. She moved her clitoris in a quick figure eight.

Then Martha began to flick the tip of her finger back and forth across the focal point of her womanly pleasure. She diddled herself. Her face contorted so severely at this point that she didn't even look very much like herself any longer.

She wanted to scream, But she could not scream.

She held her scream inside.

She let out a single grunt.

She was determined to keep her finger on her clit until her orgasm was completely over, and that was precisely what the little girl did.

She had NO idea how long her come lasted. It could have lasted only a matter of seconds or it could have lasted an hour. The little girl had no idea.

Her sense of time was shattered by the intensity of her orgasmic sensations. She was somewhat startled to find that her come ended every bit as abruptly as it had begun.

She could feel the explosions stop and reality slowly drifted back downward into the little girl's brain. Martha could feel her orgasmic ecstasy being replaced by the absolute warmth and contentment of her post-climactic afterglow.

The little girl left her hand in her cunt, in between her opened thighs, for a moment or two after her come was through. It felt at home in there. During the final stages of the little girl's orgasm she had been pressing the back of her head very very hard against her top foam rubber pillow. She had been pressing very hard against the bedspread with the balls and soles of her dainty feet.

She had arched her back and had lifted her tensed ass cheeks way up in the air as she thrust her femininely sloped loins toward the ceiling of her bedroom. Indeed, the little girl arched herself so that she resembled a bow that was about to shoot an arrow.

Now that her come was through all of her muscles were relaxed. Very relaxed.

As a matter of fact there was a part of the virginal teenager that felt as if she were relaxed for the very first time in her life.

The little girl found that, once her orgasm was through, she could once again completely fill her lungs with air. This was a great relief to the little girl, because she had hardly been able to breathe at ail during her orgasm, or during the later stages of her arousal's rise toward saturation. She found that her bloodstream's supply of fresh oxygen was badly depleted by her come, so the diminutive teenager rapidly and busily went about the task of replenishing the supply.

She continued to pant.

But now the virgin's breaths were getting longer and further apart rather than shorter and closer together as they had when she was approaching her sexual career's debut climax.

She knew that she was obsessed.

She knew that she would never be able to stop touching herself now that she knew how good it felt to come. She feared that she would turn into a nymphomaniac or something like that if she didn't do something to stop herself. But what could she do? Nature was simply talking its course, and the little girl believed that anything that felt as good as masturbation could not possibly be the work of the devil, like the priests and the nuns at her church and at her school told her. She knew no hair was going to grow on the palms of her hands. She knew that she was not going to go blind. She knew that she was not going to come down with a terminal case of acne. She knew that she was not going to render herself sterile.

And the pretty little teenager was starting to suspect that she wasn't going to burn in hell for all eternity for touching herself in an impure manner either, especially if she confessed this sin on Saturday in the confessional to Father Hartman.

Martha Maidier was a sophomore at Edward L. Norton High School in Collinsville, Pennsylvania, Her father was a mechanic and her mother was the high school librarian.

It was the late spring as our story begins, and everyone was a little hornier than usual. Martha was a strawberry blonde, and a petite one at that. She was just about the prettiest thing in all of Norton High, but she was only now beginning to realize this.