Anonymous: Wet Desires

Martha was beginning to notice the way that boys and men, and even some women, were looking at her.

She could see that they desired her. She knew that those leering men wanted to fuck her hot juicy cunt.

Martha could tell that those men wanted her to kneel before them so she could suck their rock-hard cocks.

Martha thought about this a great deal. She often wondered how it would feel to have a boner throbbing in her mouth.

Even more frequently than that, she wondered how a cock would feel pushing deep, deep, deep, into her cunt.

Every once in a while she wondered what a cock up inside her asshole, plowing deep in her bowels, would feel like. But she did not wonder this as frequently as she wondered about being taken in the cunt and in the mouth.

Martha tried to think only about giving blow jobs, but she found that this was quite impossible.

Martha knew that, for a good Catholic girl such as herself, giving blow jobs would be a necessity one day.

The pretty little virgin knew that sucking off guys was the only way to save her chastity in the wacky world of teen dating!

Martha was in school that Friday afternoon, and, as usual, she was having trouble keeping her mind off getting laid.

The little girl spent the whole school day daydreaming about getting fucked and giving long, sensuous blow jobs.

The petite maiden could feel her pussy getting quite wet by the middle of the afternoon. She could feel her pussy drooling, making a wet spot on the crotch of her panties.

She hated when that happened. The moist cloth always crawled up in between her swollen little cunt lips.

That made her pussy feel as if it were suffocating, as if her pussy were desperately in need of air.

When that happened Martha Maidier always got this insatiable urge to remove all of her clothes and get nude.

It was understandable that the diminutive maiden did not want to get her panties wet when she was in school.

By the time the school day was just about through, Martha could feel her chaste honey pot seething.

Her panties were soaking wet, and they were crawling deeper and deeper into the cleavage between her labia.

Martha had a study hall for her last period that day and half way through she asked the proctor if she could be excused to the girl's room.

"Of course," Miss Abercrombie said with a stale smile.

"Thank you, Miss Abercrombie," Martha said politely.

Martha walked hurriedly down the hall to the girls room. She was dismayed when she found that there were other girls in the rest room.

Tough girls.

They were smoking cigarettes.

Martha moved to the stall furthest from the door. She was wearing a pink button-up blouse and a pair of her tightest jeans.

They were designer bluejeans and they were skintight. The boys could see the cleavage between her ass cheeks from the back, and the cleavage between her vaginal lips from the front.

Yeah, the boys could see the outline of Martha's juicy cunt lips right through the denim of her designer bluejeans.

The boys could see her "burger," as they called it.

"Martha's showing burger!" boys like Brutus Bataglia would say behind Martha's back, loud enough for her to hear. The desired effect was lost on Martha, however, as the diminutive strawberry blonde had no idea what burger meant.

In the girls' room Martha undid her trousers quickly. The tough girls were talking about beating the shit out of some other tough chick on account of her bad manners and they were using a lot of foul language that made the angelic Martha feel uneasy.

"I say we fuck her over."

"Yeah, let's fuck her over good."

"Let's fuck with her face."

"Let's fuck her asshole with a broom."

"Sounds good."

"After school."

"Behind the building."

Martha would have liked to have gotten the hell out of there, but the other rest room was all the way on the other side of the school building and Martha's clit felt like it was going to blow up at any second.

The little girl let out an almost audible sigh as she peeled down her super-tight designer bluejeans and then pulled down her panties. They were soaked. Her cunt could breathe.

At last.

The little girl sat down on the John with her knees apart as far as the elastic at the top of her panties would allow. She thrust her fingers down in between her legs.

Pussy fingers.

They would be all smelly with a tuna-like cunt smell by the time she was through jerking herself off.

She pressed the middle finger of her right hand in between her inner cunt lips. She wanted to touch the mouth of her womb so badly she could taste it, but, of course, her cherry was in the way. And that was going to be the way it would remain for some time to come.

Martha pressed her finger on her clit. She needed a come bad and then she wanted to get the hell out of that bathroom. Martha did not want to be caught in the company of these girls.

Martha pressed her clit against the base of her pubic bone.

She pressed her love button with the sexually sensitized and fleshy tip of her digit so hard that she slightly flattened that fiery bulb.

Collinsville, Pennsylvania: A community of orgasms. Martha Maidier was only beginning to learn.

She could feel the fireworks going off inside her brain as she quickly diddled herself to orgasm.

Then all hell broke loose. Everything happened so quickly that, later, Martha's memories of these events would be sketchy.

"All right, girls, break it up. Might as well finish them as long as you have them lit," the man's voice said.

It was Mr. Busto.

Mean Mr. Busto.

"Hey, Mr. Busto, we wasn't smoking."

"Yeah, this is incense."

"Cut the jokes, girls. Let's march. We're going down to my office," the man said in his baritone voice. "Hey, who is that over in the stall?"

"Just some girl."

"Some wimp sophomore."

"Hey, you, get out of there."

"I'm going to the bathroom, s-s-s-s-sir," the strawberry blonde said, her face flushed with he post-orgasmic afterglow, her lingers smelly will the herring scent of her poontang.

"Hurry up and finish," Mean Mr. Busto said.

"But I wasn't smoking," Martha Maidier replied.

"Guilty by association. Guilty by association."

There were tears in Martha's pretty eyes as she sat in the waiting room, just outside Mr. Busto's office. Mr. Busto, whose first name was reportedly Rocky, was the Dean of Discipline at Norton High.

The tough girls went in first.

They were expelled from school.

No ifs ands or buts.

No plea-bargaining. They were out. The seniors among them would not graduate. Even tough girls cry at a time like that.

Then it was Martha's turn. Mr. Busto stood in the doorway of his creepy, dark private office, his den of punishment.

"Come in. Martha isn't it?"

"Yes, Mr. Busto."

Martha could feel about a zillion butterflies fluttering around inside her tummy on top of one another. They were fluttering impatiently as if they wanted to get the hell out of there.

She could feel her heart pounding as if it wanted to beat its way out of her chest, just like it did when she was about to have an orgasm.

Martha felt very self-conscious. She was convinced that everyone in the whole world knew that she was jerking off at the time of the bust.

"Martha, please sit in the easy chair," Mr. Busto said.

"Thank you very much, sir," Martha replied politely.

"You know, of course that you are in very serious trouble."

"Yes, sir."

"You were in the room. Cigarettes WERE lit."

"Yes, sir. Guilt by association," Martha said.

"Precisely.

"But I am innocent, Mr. Busto," Martha Maidier pleaded.

"Perhaps."

"I thought a person was innocent until PROVEN guilty."