Frank Levy: One bed family

He licked her cunt and clit harder and harder, wiping the flat of his tongue over it and then tracing the tip around her clit. She found herself sobbing, tears running down her cheeks. She was tearing at his hair and thrusting her cunt up at him. All the pain was gone now. Now it was just something that was building inside her, pressing at her flesh until she thought she was going to explode, something so terribly wonderful.

Then she couldn't breathe! Her body started jerking, toes curling, fingers clenching as she grunted, then wailed the loud, long call of a woman in rut, in orgasm, in heaven. It all went up like fireworks – all the pleasure had been building up inside her went BANG! And she shuddered back down onto the seat like a balloon losing its air with each gasping grunt of her breath.

She was in the bathtub, and the water was slopping out onto the floor as she thrust her cunt up at the memory of Richard's tongue in her twat. Her soapy fingers frigged her clit as she relived the first orgasm of her life. She sank back into the warm water.

She had cum, but it wasn't the same. Nothing is ever the same as the first time anyway, but even now she felt only hornier than before. She was hot.

Hot from the water, the memories, the sultry air of the summer night, the thoughts of the three men in the house with her. Three men with cocks much bigger and better than Richard's had ever been. And Sam's eyes were so soft and tender and soulful.

The air tingled on Cindy's skin as she got out of the bathtub and dried her feverish body on the towel. She panted in the heat of the close room, and tiny beads of sweat began to moisten her clean body as fast as she could dry it. She felt trapped and smothered, so she opened the window and felt the warm, moon-silvered air sweep over her naked flesh.

She slipped on her nightgown, barely able to stand the touch of the thin cloth on her skin. She gathered up her things and went back silently to her room. She sat on the edge of the musty bed and wished that she could let the warm night air into her room. She might waken Sam by opening the blind. She wondered if he were asleep. She listened for the sound of his breathing, but she could hear nothing over the night noises from the insects outside. She sighed in longing.

Richard had been a very skilled and experienced lover. He had taught her his body and the working of hers, too. She had come to know just how to touch him and where, the especially tender spots right under the tip of the head of his cock, the backs of his balls, how he loved for her to stroke her fingernails back there, to cup her lip around the crest of his cock. She learned the secrets of her own body started on her journey with his knowledge but soon surpassed him.

Then she found out what a shit he really was. All that time telling her how much he loved her. She never believed him, of course, but she found out that he had proudly displayed the towel with her blood on it to his fraternity brothers. What an utter turd! She cut him off that day without even telling him what he had done to deserve it. There were other boys later, none as skilled as Richard had been, but at least they were more concerned with having fun than with proving what cocksmen they were to their male friends.

She sat on the side of the bed, dissatisfied and irritable with the annoying memory. She listened again for Sam's breathing. Everyone was asleep, she thought, I can go out on the porch and get a breath of fresh air. She got up and switched the light off and silently glided out into the house in the darkness.

The moonlight on the porch was as bright as day. She listened to the sounds of the bugs buzzing and humming outside the screens. She couldn't hear Sam. He must be very silent on his bed down at the end of the porch. She thought she would go down and take a look at him just to make sure that he was all right.

She tiptoed down the length of the porch to the old day bed outside her window. He was lying on it face down. The sheets were soiled and wrinkled, damp with the summer humidity. The top sheet covered the small of his back and most of his buttocks. She could see enough of the round cheeks of his ass to tell that he had no clothes on at all. The moonlight picked out the short delicate hairs that were just beginning to grow up his legs and over the hunks of his butt. His leg was pulled up a little, and she stepped to the end of the bed so she could see the heavy globes of his nuts sprawled out in their loose sac between his legs.

The pillow in its dingy case was clutched by his arms, and his face was thrust into it. She could just see the line of his jaw and the fuzzy beginnings of beard that were growing down from his sideburns, so delicately boyish. But she remembered the heavy length of his soft cock when he had come into the living room naked. There was nothing boyish about that! She couldn't see it now. It was trapped under his belly. His shoulders were so broad stretched out like that, but not yet bulky with the muscles of a grown man. He moaned and turned his head.

His lips were full and puffy with sleep. He worked his mouth, and his tongue came out and licked them. He moaned and grunted again. He was dreaming. She looked carefully at his eyes with their long, black lashes down on his cheeks. She could see his eyes moving under the lids in rapid twitches. He puffed out his lips and gripped the pillow tighter, pulling it to him, under his chest, and moving his ass up toward it.

Is he dreaming of me? she wondered. He was so handsome, lying there in his sleep, like a dream come true himself. He grunted a couple more times, little soft noises of urgency. His back arched up a little when he grunted and his hips twitched toward the pillow. He's going to have a wet dream, she thought, like Richard told me that boys have when they're too sexed up and need a fuck.

She shuddered all over as if from a chill, but it wasn't the night air that was bothering her. It was the sight of this boy and the fact that she was watching him in his sleep when be was totally unguarded, open to her gaze. She felt herself getting wet again, her clit beginning to throb with unsatisfied desire. Her knees felt a little weak, so she sat down very carefully on the corner of the bed, making sure that she didn't awaken him. She wanted to watch. She wanted to see his lust grip him in the dream.

As if he heard her desire, he rolled over suddenly with a groan and sucked in a deep breath. The sheet clung to him and pulled over with his hip. But not quite all the way off. His cock was hard, very hard, arching up from his belly like a flagpole. It was under the damp sheet, but she could see the shape and size of it. It throbbed slowly, jerking up and down a little over his belly with the slow, deep pulse of his heart. It was very, very big, an enormous cock to find on any man, much less a boy of his age. She was thrilled by it. She wanted it. At least she had to see it.

Her hand crept out and very, very gently took hold of the edge of the sheet and pulled it off him. It stuck to him some, glued to him by the pre-cum that was seeping out of the swollen head of his dong. His big balls were pulled up tight to the root of his dork, like two fat lemons in the darker crinkled skin that contrasted to the light tan of his legs and belly. Her fingers crept down between her legs and pressed against her pussy through the thin cloth of her nightgown. Her breasts stood high and tight against the confining fabric, the nipples erect and straining to burst free.

He kicked out with his feet, and one of them pushed against her warm thigh. She held still, but he opened his eyes. She saw glints of light in the darkness under his lashes. He looked at the ceiling, then at her. She put her shaky hand on his leg.

"Hello, Sam," she whispered.