"It really isn't fair, you know," Jill said, wiping her leg dry. "I mean, Mom doesn't enjoy it. She's more or less told me that, and whenever Daddy starts getting over friendly, she comes up with a headache. Sometimes I can even hear them at night. And she never moans and whimpers and cries aloud with the ecstatic joy of it, the way ladies do in books and movies. But I know for a fact that Daddy makes her do it two or three times a week, at least. And here we are. I want to do it, and you want to do it, and we can't. If it wasn't so pathetic, it'd be funny… How does this look?"
She stood up and did a slow turnaround for me in her new bikini. The effect was dynamite. I really envied her that suit, not to mention parents who'd let her buy it in the first place. Strings and patches – that's ail it was, and the strings were stretched tight across the smooth reaches of bare skin between patches. Jill's nipples were primly covered, but not the rounded curves of her boobs, and the fabric was clingy enough to let her nipples stand out visibly against the taut material. Under it, I knew, she was creamy, tanning flesh with delicate blue veins rimming her pale brown nips. Her belly was long and flat, the navel puckered and demure; below that stretched the bottom half of her new suit – what there was of it.
In the back, the bikini was cut low enough to show off the upper third of Jill's ass crack, and in front – well, if she took a deep breath and made her tummy suck in just a little bit, everyone on the beach would know by the slippage that her beaver was just as fluffy auburn as the hair on her head. Long legs below, slim and tight and young, not to mention freshly shaven because I'd made a little joke about them just a few minutes ago.
"It looks good," I said, swallowing my jealousy, "but you kinda forgot something." I pointed to her crotch. On either side of the narrow strip of cloth which ran between Jill's thighs and protected her cunt from undeserving eyes, there were bits of that auburn beaver poking out – and more whenever she moved. Jill had a full bush, and the bikini pants were too skimpy by far to contain all of it.
"Oh, shit!" Jill griped, sitting down. She eyed the hairy exposure. "It really looks gross, doesn't it?" I didn't think so. I thought it was cute. But I knew what she meant. She picked up scissors from her vanity and started to snip away at the offending hairs.
"You'd better let me," I volunteered, slipping off the bed and onto my knees beside her. Jill surrendered the scissors, then untied her bikini pants to give me better access.
I pulled softly at the clumps of tufted fuzz, dipping where it seemed necessary. She felt like spun silk to my fingers and I had a hard time taking my eyes off the center of her auburn delta, where a very ripe, very pink ravine peeked vertically through the curls. Once upon a time I'd have touched her there. I'd have tickled her gash with my index finger, tracing up and down the puffy outer works until the tight space between them was just beginning to dew over with a coating of mist, and then I'd have started to work my way inside while she chewed on her lip and squeezed her boobs and patted my head once in a while, and I'd hear her purr and make sudden little groans that could have been anguish or joy-groans that made a matching dewy moisture spring out of my own depths and coat the lips of the love trap I carried between my thighs.
And in another moment Jill would have her hand in my panties, petting me as I petted and played with her. But where I was always so soft and gentle, she was usually frantic and frenzied, and she'd have her middle finger jammed up me before I'd even finished the preliminaries on her clit. As if it mattered. Because when she thrust up me, I'd go all glassy-eyed and round-mouthed, and I'd giggle, and then I'd start giving her pussy bloody hell. Once upon a time.
Jill is Jillian Cynthia Pettit, which I think is a beautiful name. She's my best – just about my only – friend. For the record, I'm Diana Dawn Sayers, Didi for short, and we've been tight since fourth grade, when we got into a hair-pulling, kicking, biting fight about something neither of us can recall, exactly. While we were waiting for the principal to give us a reprimand, we started chatting and found out that we had the same birthday. It was incredible. I'd never met anyone born the same day, same year as I, and neither had Jill. From that time forward, we were inseparable. Together we set out to discover life.
We did discover a lot together. All the usual growing-up things. I found a lost joint on the school bus and we shared it in the girls' toilet that day. It wasn't as much fun as the gin that Jill was able to sneak out of her daddy's liquor cabinet. We had brief acne scares which fizzled out, and we both got our periods and started blossoming body-wise in sixth grade, and once we didn't speak for two or three days because we both had crushes on the same boy at school, only it turned out he didn't like either of us.
During that difficult time when our bodies were growing faster than we could keep track of, and unusual urges, with them, one of us lucked onto masturbation. Which? I can't remember. All I know is that for days we didn't do anything else. We'd go to Jill's house, up to her room where no one would bother us, and we'd take down our panties and sit on the bed gasping and sighing as we fingered ourselves to shivery-sweet orgasms that left little buds of wet juices on our just-thatching beavers. My titties were bubbling up then, and after a couple hours of frigging my pussy, the nipples would ache like crazy, and I'd have to rub them to make the sore go away. But it seemed the more I rubbed, the more oozy and shuddery I felt all over, and I felt a gnawing inadequacy, too, a sense that surely there was more to it than just this.
We were about twelve then, and surprisingly innocent, in retrospect. The first time we did switch-about masturbation, it was unplanned and unexpected as could be. But Jill's fingers on my cunt were fantastically more satisfying than my own had been, and I couldn't wait to return the compliment. She agreed in full, and our relationship entered a whole new phase. Instead of each girl watching the other play with her cunny, we'd get into freaky twists and postures and do it to one another. Jill was more inquisitive, and she initiated the lip-to-nipple aspect, which I really got off on.
We never actually got up to eating one another, because at the time we'd never heard of such things. But we did every thing that one girl can do to another with hands and fingers. Jill even invented the technique of using her stiff nipples to tickle the lips of my gash. That felt good, no matter whether I was giving or receiving.
But it was only a phase. Both of us shied off from it about the same time. It was really amazing how much alike Jill and I were. Sometimes I'd be at home by myself, thinking something, and I'd realize that Jill was thinking the very same thing at the very same moment. Or at least it seemed so. Anyway, during the summer between eighth and ninth grade, we quit playing girl games with each other. I still did myself, when I was alone, and I knew darned well Jill did, too, but we didn't make parties out of it any longer. Why, I don't know. For a while it seemed very embarrassing even when I only thought about it, and I wondered if maybe I shouldn't quit hanging around Jill so I wouldn't have to remember how sweaty and excited we'd gotten rolling around on the big bed in her room.
But we didn't drift apart. We had other things to keep us together. Jill's parents had plenty of money, unlike mine, but she didn't act rich and conceited the way some kids at school did. In a lot of ways, we were like sisters.
For one thing, neither of us was exactly a raving beauty, face-wise. Nothing gross or ugly, see, but they weren't asking me or Jill to do magazine covers, either. Jill's features are sharply-defined; if she does her makeup just right, it's a striking effect, but I was about the only one who ever noticed. As for me, my face was the last refuge of my baby fat, and only lately had the puffy outlines begun to take shape. Maybe by the time I was twenty-five or so… But nobody except my parents thought I was cute.
That was unfortunate, because Jill and I were very normal for our age, and we thought about boys most of the time. Occasionally we had dates, and we'd both been kissed and felt. But nothing more than kissing and feeling. We were both interested – very interested – but very afraid, too. What if we got pregnant? What if we got caught? I suppose every girl goes through that whole routine of doubt and dread before she finally says "To hell with the consequences!" and ties it on with some hard-tooled young stud. Well, we hadn't gotten to that point yet.
Partly because we didn't get too many chances. Jill's parents and mine weren't averse to our having dates with guys, but there weren't many guys. We're both very tall – almost flve eight barefooted, so you can imagine how we look with shoes on – and guys our age seem afraid of our height. It isn't fair, like Jill said. If the right guy asked me to do it with him, I'd probably weep with joy and pull down my panties, asking him to be very gentle. But so far I finished trimming Jill's fur with the scissors, and her pubic triangle looked a bit more like a triangle. She pulled the bikini panties into place. "There," I said. "Now you won't get arrested for obscene hair showing on the beach."
Jill's long legs flashed as she strutted across the bedroom. I knew what she was thinking. Her body was really getting there, with plump, round tits and a high, jiggly ass. If them were guys at the beach, they'd be noticing her for damn sure.
"It's too damned bad your parents won't let you go with us," Jill observed, lifting the curtain aside and peering down from her window. "I feel awful about going off to the beach and leaving ya here alone."
"Not half as bad as I feel," I agreed, going to join her. I looked down, toward the backyard pool and patio, and my heart did a little fandango behind my left breast. Jill's brother was down there lifting weights beside the pool, and I could feel my saliva's flow increase fantastically.
Remember what I said about the right guy a little bit ago? Well, maybe it was only a teenaged crush – maybe it was just the kind of infatuation you get when you're young and susceptible – but as far as I was concerned, Greg Pettit was Mr. Right, with a capital R. Everything. He's tall and he's built, with sunburnt hair and a Pearl Drops smile and the bluest eyes a boy ever had. When Jill and I were much younger, it was great pretending that Greg was my big brother as well as hers, but the last couple of years he's seemed so much more.
As if he noticed, he's going to college this fall, and most of the time he keeps on treating us like the little kids we used to be. He's nice, and he always has a smile for me, but I can tell that as far as he's concerned, I'm just his sister's playmate. Last spring I began to get these really hot urges for him, if you know what I mean. I'd lie in bed with the lights out, and I'd see his face gleaming in the darkness, brightening the whole room with his desire for me. And I'd shiver and shake under the covers, positive that any day now he'd look at me in real life and see the hungry, yearning woman hidden inside my ripening teenaged body. And he'd know. His arms would enfold me, he'd bathe my face with his eager burning kisses, my breasts would harden – not to mention his pecker! – where our bodies rubbed and pressed together, and he'd lay me down upon a bed of silk where I might surrender to him the pleasure of my virginity.
Dream on, Didi! He didn't even think of me as a girl, I was positive, let alone as an available, willing girl. And how could I settle for the kind of nerds who were available to me? It was like craving meat, but eating a Big Mac.
"Isn't he beautiful?" I asked Jill, heart throbbing in my throat. Oh, he was! He did his exercises while we watched from above, and if I moved my legs just the pressure on my pussy would send me bubbling into a cream like you wouldn't believe.
Jill shrugged. "I wish he was Elton John."
"Why?"
"Because I can ball Elton John. He isn't my big brother."
Greg was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and a pair of very snug, form-fitting trunks. He had the best ass I've ever seen on a guy, and the hunks clung to it like a layer of green skin. And when he turned around to re-weight his barbells, I could see that the trunks fit him just as closely in front. The shielded, but definitely revealed outline of his cock made me ache. It looked like a snake inside his pants, and I wished that it were inside mine instead. I've touched guys' dicks – once I even rubbed a boy off, though he didn't like it out of his pants; I just used my hand on the big hard lump until he groaned and his jeans got all wet in front and he stopped groaning – but I'd never seen one that I wanted to touch as much as I wanted to touch Greg Pettit's.
"What would be wrong with balling Greg?" I asked her, our bodies were very close as we peeked out the window, and I could feel the smooth warmth of her leg, even through the jeans I was wearing. "God, why aren't there guys like him around for us?"
"It's incest when you do it with somebody in your family," Jill pointed out. "No matter how cute he is. It's against the law in this state, I think."
"I'd be willing to take a chance."
"You're sex crazy, Didi."
"And you're the one who brought up the subject in the first place."
"I did not!"
"Did too! You sat there shaving your legs and moaned about how your mom doesn't like to get laid, but has to a dozen times a week, and how we'd really dig it, but can't get it at all."
"Maybe I did. But it seems sick, even to think about doing it with Greg."
"Not to me. Sometimes I think about him when I'm playing with myself. I close my eyes and pretend it's his hand on me, and that he's kissing me and stroking me and all of a sudden my fingers are very wet and they smell like fish."
Jill giggled, turning to fix me through and through with heavy-lidded eyes that are a kind of slaty gray that makes me think of a later fall sky breaking up to rain. "Want me to put in a good word for you? He's not going with that juicy Robin any more, or did you know?"
I didn't, and my heart danced faster just to hear it. One of the great pangs of my life was coming over to see Jill and noticing Greg and his dainty blonde sweetheart laughing and talking together. I used to fantasize about her getting hit by a send. Who knew? Maybe with her out of the way, he might be in a mood to see what a precious jewel had been at arm's reach all this time. But she was only kidding about putting in a good word for me. Greg wouldn't listen even if she did, because as far as he was concerned, Jill was only a kid. Like me. Damn it. I didn't feel like a kid, especially when I stood watching him tone up his already superb muscles. "Listen," I said, talking really fast because the idea excited me, "if you really need it the way I really need it, Jill."
"Hi, Greg," I said in my milkiest, silkiest voice, stepping onto the patio. Jill had lent me one of her bikinis, a last year's model, nowhere near so revealing as the one she'd bought for this summer, and my titties jiggled in the loose-tied cups as I walked toward him.
He paid little attention, which was par for the course. He stood there, lifting the barbell over his head and tensing, then lowering it to chest-height, then up again. It was poetry, the way his body flexed and rippled as he exercised, and I couldn't repress a sigh of admiration. I sprawled on the tiles about a yard from his toes, twisting my body this way and that to let him see how splendidly I was filling out the bikini. I stretched my legs, which are long and, I like to think, a trifle more shapely than Didi's, and I curled and uncurled my toes, smiling at him.
"You're beautiful," I said suddenly. "I think I'm in love with you."
He had the barbell high above his head. "What?" he asked. But by then it was too late. Jill had come up behind him on cat feet, and she had her long slender fingers firmly caught in the waistband of his trunks. She gave a quick jerk, she trilled a triumphant laugh, and Greg was there, hanging out in all his glory. "What're you…" he started to say, but I didn't let him finish. I crawled toward him on all fours – actually on threes, because one hand was up, reaching for the pink dangle of his lovely cock.
He staggered when I touched him, and when I made a fist around his prick he nearly dropped the barbell on my head. Good thing he was on guard, because it was heavy enough to have busted my skull – but a busted head would have been worth it, I knew as soon as I felt the thudding burst of energy that flooded his cock. Oh, God! I squeezed him, wanting to feel it all over again, and he began to stiffen in my hand the way I knew he would!
"Stop it," he said weakly, but there was no conviction in his voice. His mouth might say no, but his penis was telling me yes. "At least let me put this barbell down," he added.
Jill out of her bikini by the time he act the nights in the grass, and she shifted herself free foot to foot, very nervous, very naked. Her nipples were standing up all tight and hard, and I remembered the way they used to throb when I plied them in my fingers, back when we were both into that sort of thing. But now I could see our games and fantasies for the childish pastimes they were. As Greg's cock swelled and hardened in my fist, I knew that we were on the verge of something far more important.
With one hand still clutching his rod, I tugged his shorts all the way down and be stepped out of them. "Greg," I panted, kneeling before him, "we want you. Both of us. But me especially. Teach us. Love us. Fuck us!"
He looked from face to face. Jill had knelt beside me, and she sat there like a happy puppy, her paws up in the begging position. Her face was bright and her eyes pleaded. "Please," her soft light voice chimed in, "we need to learn, and we want you to teach us."
"I never guessed…" he said wonderingly. "God, I didn't know that the two of you needed me so much!" He put one of his warm, strong hands on my head, the other on Jill's. "Of course," he went on. "If you need me, I'm yours. All of me. And it's the best way to learn, from somebody you love, somebody who loves you. Where do you want to start?"
"Right here!" I gurgled, opening my mouth and stuffing his cock inside. He lunged toward me, jamming his rod into my hunger-crazed orality. His hand became tight on my head as he slid across my tongue and I, working by instinct and certainly not experience, closed my lips on him. Twisting my head gracefully, caressing his hard, throbbing length with my tongue, I began to suck and swallow his gorgeous tool.
He was long, eight or nine inches hard at least, and he seemed to fill my mouth to overflowing. I felt as if I'd strangle on him, but I didn't want to stop sucking him, either. I heard him groan in sheer, undisguised pleasure, and he said, "Oh, God, Didi, don't stop! No matter what, don't stop! It feels so goooooodddd!"
And that pleased me, because I was pleasing him. I sucked furiously, taking him as deeply as I could, and my hand stroked up and down his bare, hard thigh while I gobbled. Jill was busy somewhere – I could hear loud smacking sounds, and her long auburn hair was near me, for I could smell it and feel its ticklish brushing on my skin. Was she kissing his balls, maybe? I reached for them to find out, and my finger got a swiping from her tongue. Good old Jill!
Her body thumped mine now and then, and one of her stiff, passion-gorged nipples scraped my forearm. A throbbing started where she touched me, a throbbing that raced through my veins and muscles to hammer somewhere near the base of my brain. And Greg kept fucking his cock in and out of my mouth, moving with a growing eagerness, a willing surrender to the luscious sensations I was spooning out so freely. His cock rammed deeper and deeper, till I thought surely all of his masterful erection must be wedged into my straining mouth, but it didn't matter. He could suffocate me with his rod and that would have been delicious by me.
"Me now, me now!" Jill was chanting beside me, trying to pull her brother's dick out of my mouth.
"Nnnnnn!" I grunted, still sucking. It had been my idea. She could wait her turn. I wanted to suck him.
"There's enough for both of you," Greg suggested, and I had to admit to myself that he was probably right.
I tried to tell him with my eyes as I stood to undress. First I undid the bikini bra, letting it flutter to the ground as my tits bobbed into his view. I looked down at them, knowing that he was looking, too, and I tweaked my pink nipples until the areolae reddened ever so slightly and the teats sprang up long and stiff and pointing. Greg smiled to see how long my nips could erect, and I smiled to remember how good they felt when they did. I untied the bikini pants, moving toward him as they fell. My bush is a small cluster of dark hair, very thick around the slit itself, but without much outward extension. And now every one of those dark hairs was coated with sweet-smelling bubbles of girl juice. For him.
"Thank you, Greg," I told him, leaning up to kiss his neck. He's six-two, so I had to stand on tiptoes. For the first time in my adolescent life I was glad I was tall, because if I'd been much shorter I'd have had to use a stepladder just to reach him.
"The pleasure is all mine," he replied, thrusting his hand between my legs so he could feel that vibrant little clump of beaver and the promising treasures within. His hand clawed on me, and he squeezed me just so. I squealed and stood even taller as he fondled me, and I wondered how I'd ever been satisfied doing myself for such a long time? But I was so glad it was Greg preparing to break me in, and not some bad complicated lout of a classmate of mine. I needed a man, not a boy, and I knew I'd found a man.
Jill was still scarfing her brother's prick, and the slurpy sounds she made were an aphrodisiac to my ears. I chewed Greg's flesh, and kissed it and licked it, nuzzling my dark shag of hair against his face, and I leaned into him so he could do more of those magical things he was already doing to my pussy. "I love you," I whispered. "I always have. Will you fuck me now, Greg?"
His eyes started to roll in their sockets and his face twisted toward a grimace. Something told me surer than words that Jill had him trembling on the brink. I couldn't endure the thought of missing his orgasm. Prying myself out of his grip, forcing my lips to desert his shoulders, I fell to my knees, shoving Jill as I moved into position. "It's mine!" I yelled. "It's mine!"
Jill's head slumped back, and Greg's big hard dick emerged, foamy with saliva from his sister's mouth. On the sweet round glans there was a coating of thin saliva mixed with a thicker, creamy-looking substance that had to be – oh, yes!
I got my hand on his tool and gave him a furious shake. He throbbed, he swelled, his pecker convulsed internally while I held it, and then he let fly with his jism. A fountaining arc of cum it was, that soared majestically from his red piss-slot as I watched enthralled. That first jolt hit Jill squarely in the face, landing on the side of her nose, just below the right eye. A second took her almost directly in the mouth, which was still open and moaning for joy, and she licked automatically with her tongue, savoring the taste delights. Her hand came up to touch the dabs of cum on her face, and she painted herself with them, licking her fingers from time to time as well.
My own reaction was as instinctive as Jill's. I could watch him orgasm for only the briefest of moments before something inside told me that I must take him in my mouth again, but it was too late. Gladly! Eagerly! I opened my mouth and pulled him toward it, even as he kept spurting his thick, hot spurts of juicy pleasure.
"Yes, Didi! Suck my cum! Drink me! Drink all of my cum!" he wailed, fucking furiously into my mouth while I sucked and drank and swallowed. My eyes were shut as tightly as my mouth was locked upon his ramming pecker, and I didn't even think about Jill, watching from no more than a foot away. She was my friend. We'd done this together. I should be sharing the delights with her, hut my greed for her brother's semen was too hot, too strong to be denied.
He creamed like an oil well coming into gusher. My cheeks were full of it, my throat clogged wan the sticky, sweet fluid, and thin trails of his jism seeped from the edges of my mouth. And still I felt him pulse and thrust and explode as he unloaded his seed.
And when the spurts ceased at last, his cock didn't go soft. Not at all! It remained in my mouth, kept hard by my nonstop vigil of sucking, and when I finally let him go, he was as stiff and as fierce as when we had started. "Now," I gasped, leaning back on the sunbathed tiles. My legs parted naturally, invitingly, and the reddish pink of my pussy went onto display, coercing him to enter with his manhood. "I want you to fuck me now, Greg," I purred. "Make me a woman with your big, beautiful cock!!"
He threw himself upon me like a madman. Obviously my sucking, my gluttony with the cum of his first orgasm, the wanton freedom with which I offend myself – all these were combining to make Greg desire me as much as I desired and needed him.
He took my tits in his big strong hands and he squeezed them till I thought the pink-capped mounds would burst like abused balloons. I writhed and twisted, feeling his cock bang me on legs, on tummy, and his mouth covered mine in a kiss that taught me, for the first time, what kissing was all about. His tongue was in my mouth, and my tongue in his, and our legs were tied in knots that might never be undone. I felt his hard manhood resting between my thighs, its thick, hot, damp barrel scraping ceaselessly back and forth on the slit of my cunt, and the sensation took my breath away. I moaned, I gasped, I screamed my need and pleasure into the skies above us.
"Now! Please! Don't wait another second! Greg, darling, fuck me, fuck me, or I'll die!"