When I got home there was a letter from Jill in the mail. Mom didn't seem to suspect anything, for which I was grateful, and I only wished it weren't so clearly over with B.E., because I could have dug seeing him again. It would have been easy to flit up to Columbus once or twice a week for return engagements, but he was right. We didn't have anything in common and it wasn't a healthy long-term relationship. "Find yourself a young man, now," he'd told me. "One who's kind of inexperienced. Then teach him what you like, only make him think he's teaching you. That's good for the male ego."
Oh, maybe, I thought, tearing open Jill's letter. I wondered what she was up to now, but I didn't see any need to follow her lead. From here on out, I'd have to make my own way, to do the things I wanted to do. She'd gotten me started because I was jealous and felt left out, but the time for imitation was past.
It was a funny letter. I mean, first of all she started off talking about how she met these guys on the beach, and how they shared a few joints of great hash, and it turned into an orgy. But right in the middle of her description of a three-way fuck one guy in her pussy, another in her mouth, the third mounted on her midriff and fucking between her tits she stopped short.
Didi, what is wrong? You haven't written me once! Are you dead? Did you break your wrist? Or – I hate to ask this, but I have to, Didi – is it just that you don't want to be my friend anymore? Damn it, what's wrong with you? Is Albany still there? Are these letters all going to the Dead Mail Office?
I'm knocking myself out down here, and you aren't even bothering to drop me a line saying "Hi, Jill, I'm still alive and kicking." Really! If this is all our friendship means to you, then I just won't bother. We'll be home soon, so if you have anything you'd like to say to me, I hope it can wait till then. I'm still your friend, Didi, and I hope you're still mine.
Bye for now, Jill.
"Talk about weird!" I said out loud. Here she was, fucking everything on two legs and wondering why I hadn't gotten around to writing her. Did she have enough time to read letters, for God's sake? With all that screwing, she couldn't. But the tone of her words bothered me most of all. God, until yesterday nothing worth writing about had even happened to me. And that definitely counted that I klutzy Rocky. And here she was, worrying the same things about me that I'd worried about her! Oh, I should write her, but she said they'd be coming home soon, and the letter was mailed when? Three days ago? If I wrote, the hotel would just have to forward it to her in Albany, most likely, and we'd have already said everything that we needed to say by then. Besides, I wanted to tell her about it face to face, so she could see the sparkle and gleam in my eyes and know that I, too, had found awakening this fantastic summer.
That afternoon I rode my bike downtown. I needed a few personals from the drug store, and I took a detour on the way back so I could get a banana split at the Dairy Bar. It was delicious, though not really the kind of banana I was in the mood to eat right then. And the way home I kept thinking about yesterday with B.E. and all the tomorrows that lay ahead for me, and my legs pedaled frantically on the bicycle because it helped slightly to assuage the renewed itching between my thighs. And if I pressed my cunt down just so on the seat, well! Bicycles may be the only kind of socially acceptable masturbation device for teenaged girls and I sun got mileage out of mine.
But because I had gone out of the way to visit the Dairy Bar, my route home took me past Jill's place. I looked at the house automatically as I pedaled by, and almost at once I slammed on my brakes. The front door was open, which meant either a burglar or my friend's return. I pulled into the yard and went to find out.
"Oh, hi, Didi," said Jill's cute big brother, who came to the door in his gym shorts. He was shirtless, big nicely developed torso on display, and I couldn't help recalling how much I'd wanted him when I was just an eager virgin dreaming about cock.
Recalling? I didn't have to recall! He was as handsome as ever, and my heart thrumped when he smiled at me. Oh, wow, I thought, if he had any idea what I was thinking, would he still be smiling?
"Are you home already?" I asked, astonished to see him.
"Come on in," he said, opening the door and stepping aside for me. "Dad and I came back night before last. Mom and Jill stayed on a couple of days to work on their tans, I guess, but they're in Columbus now. Dad's just gone up to the airport to fetch them home. Probably be another hour or two, anyway. You wanta wait?"
Gad, I thought, they're coming back at least a week early. I wondered why. Could – my heart nearly stopped – could Jill's parents have found out about her beachfront activities by some mishap? Jesus, what if there had been a horrible scene? I felt chilly inside, nervous about my friend. "Mmm," I said, trying to test her brother, "did you have a nice vacation?"
"So-so," he shrugged. If anything untoward had gone on, he didn't betray it with his eyes or voice.
I remembered Jill's account of Greg and the hotel maid, and jealousy blazed inside me. For the moment any possible dilemma Jill might be involved in vanished. Greg walked toward the kitchen. "Would you like a Coke?" he asked, but I scarcely heard him. I was watching the way his fine ass moved against the clinging fabric of his gym shorts. He had great legs, too, and a body made for screwing. I could almost feel it pressed to me, his cock dropping to plant hot kiss after hot kiss on my lips and cheeks and chin.
Goddamn that bike! I thought. It's got me all hot and bothered!
At one time I'd have had no choice but to go home and try to do something about that hot bother, but that time was past. Greg returned to the living room, two Cokes in hand, and when he leaned in to pass me one, I saw the way his cock moved inside the front of his shorts. It looked like a pretty cock. I wondered how big it got when it was hard, how skillfully it could move inside a tight, clutching pussy. A pussy just like mine.
As I took the Coke with one hand I reached up with the other, fingers coming to rest on his shoulderblade. He gave me a strange look, but by then my hand had clamped around his neck and I was lifting myself at the same time, lips already puckered for a kiss that only he could respond to. My mouth closed upon his as I stood up straight, and I made that kiss cling and endure.
He didn't resist, though he didn't seem overly involved either. His lips were there and I could kiss them, but that was all. I wondered if I'd made a mistake. Perhaps once a blunder might have embarrassed the ass off me, but no longer. My lips smacked off his and I eased onto the soles of my feet, looking up at him with a frank gaze. His eyes were incredibly blue, incredibly flustered. He looked so cute I wanted to kiss his embarrassment away.
"I've wanted to do that for a very long time," I told him huskily. At the same time I put down my Coke and took the one he was holding for himself. Now we had four hands, all of them unoccupied. I know what to do with mine, but what about Greg?
"Jesus, Didi," he said.
I cut him off. "Don't call me Didi," I suggested. "I think Diana sounds more grown-up. Don't you? And I feel very grown-up, Greg, dear. Can you tell?"
"I think I can," he said, as if in amazement. His eyes got bluer and bluer, and they really were the dreamiest eyes any boy was ever graced with. I felt as if I could just sink and drown in them.
My body pushed insistently against his, and I put both arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. His cock moved inside the shorts, just like a lovable snake, and I ground my hips into that snakey motion, reveling in it. I had to go on tiptoes to kiss him again, but he wasn't unwilling when I got there, even though his hands continued to hang limply at his sides.
My mouth was open when it fell upon his, and I used my tongue on his lips until they ported and allowed me inside. Greg caught my tongue – was it only an automatic response? – and he began to suck it cautiously. I took one of his hands and steered it around my back, moving in a little closer to him as I did. Something started to happen to his cock. It felt larger than before, and its end began to rise against the front of my shorts. Right about then Greg put his other arm around me. I kissed him a little more eagerly, thrilled to know that he was starting to respond correctly.
Correctly? Jesus, I don't think that's precisely the word! Greg's hands swooped low to grab the cheeks of my ass, and I didn't have to stand on my toes anymore, because he was pulling me up into the prolonged kiss. He squeezed me, he kneaded me, he made my ass twist and I wiggled it for him happily. At the same time I let my hands ride a little lower on him so that I had him by the ass too, and we did the good, old bump and grind on the carpet till his prick swelled majestically against me and my heart leaped into my mouth, where it had to keep dodging the thrusts of his now-active tongue. Talk about responses! His seemed to be right on target.
Finally he let go, and once more I sank onto my feet. I couldn't hide the smug grin on my face, nor could he mask the uncertainty of his own. "I think you do feel pretty grown-up," he acknowledged warily.
But she'd have to give her okay first. I couldn't betray Jill's confidence in me.
No more than I'd betray Greg by telling Jill I'd fucked him. And that's exactly what I was going to do. God! I nearly choked on a giggle then. B.E. had been fairly close to the mark when he told me to look for a young guy without much experience, one that I could train to suit my own needs and pleasures. Greg seemed to lit the description. I couldn't help wondering how many girls he really had made it with. He didn't seem at all suave or sophisticated when I put the make onto him.
Maybe, I thought, this was what B.E. meant by a twist ending, the kind he'd throw in if he were writing mine and Jill's story. Wouldn't that be a cute one, though? Here I am, about to get it on with the guy I used to fantasize about. My reward for being a diligent girl in search of sexual enlightenment? Far fucking out!
"Would you like to screw me, Greg?" I asked him, putting all my cards on the table. As I spoke I took a half-step back and undid the knot which kept my halter closed. I flung the ends aside and treated him to the sight of my stiff-nippled breasts. "Mmmmmm," I said, running my palms across my breasts, feeling the inch-long tabs hot against my skin. "It would feel a lot better if you did it."
He did! He reached out, stars gleaming in his eyes, and he took me by the titties, and this time it wasn't a childish fantasy. His hands closed upon me and I knew that it was all for bloody real! "Ohhhhhh," I groaned ecstatically, swaying as he plied my boobs.
It was like a million hopeless dreams all coming true in one beautiful, blinding instant. When I felt his hands grind upon my tits I knew that I had him just where I wanted him, where I'd always wanted him. This was definitely the twist B.E. had spoken about. It was the fulfillment of a passion which had been so futile I'd forced myself to ignore it.
And Greg enjoyed it, too. I knew that as soon as I saw his cock spring up, really hard and big, inside his gym shorts. God, I don't know how he kept his erection inside them! He swelled and his meat stick pointed toward me, and it was excitingly obvious that he'd gone too far to get out of it now. He was as ready to fuck me as I was to fuck him.
"Yes, Greg," I purred invitingly. My hands covered his and we played with my boobs together. "Yes, hold my tits – can you feel how hot my nipples are? I've wanted you for such a long time, and today I knew I had to have you. Will you fuck me now, darling?"
"Oh, yes," he whispered hoarsely, "I'll fuck you, Didi!"
"Call me Diana," I murmured softly. "Doesn't it sound a lot sexier?"
"Diana," he agreed, "I want to ball your buns off!"
"Ball away, stud," I grinned, reaching down to unsnap my shorts. They were tight and skimpy, and I peeled them down my thighs and stepped out of them. Reaching across to Greg, I locked my thumbs in the waistband of his gym trunks and jerked furiously. They fell, just as they'd fallen in my poolside fantasies about him.
His pecker sprang toward me. I groaned in delight as I saw its erected beauty. He was big and thick and red as a flame. B.E. had gone a long way toward showing me how unimportant cock size really is, and I'd have loved Greg's tool if it had been four inches long and a pencil's thickness, but it was sweet and dreamy to get my hand around his big joint and feel its hard male beauty throbbing in my fist.
Greg's hands left my titties and moved down to the panties which were all that separated him from my pussy. He pulled, and my bikinis yielded to his pull, and then he fixed on me with his eyes. "Diana," he said, and I loved the way he said my name, "I should tell you something. Before-before we do it, I mean. I haven't fucked many girls, and I don't think I'm very good at it."
"Of course you are," I assured him. "You're handsome and you have a gorgeous cock."
"Really," he said, in so revealing a voice that I couldn't help feeling for him. "That's why Robin and I broke up. She said I wasn't a worthwhile lay."
Oh, the rotten bitch! I thought, recalling her dainty figure and blonde hair and little China doll face. If she didn't like the way Greg screwed, she should have taught him. Probably she didn't know enough to teach him the ropes. I'd never liked her, principally because she was Greg's girl friend, and now I hated her. On the other hand, if she hadn't dumped him, I'd have been much less likely to be here with him now, so maybe I shouldn't feel all that snotty about Robin.
Anyway, I didn't see how he could be so awfully bad in the hay. And if he was, I knew how to straighten him out. God bless you, B.E. Courtney, I thought.
Somehow we got ourselves undressed, then stood eyeing our naked bodies in the middle of the living room. "Let's go upstairs," I suggested. "Like to your bedroom, maybe?"
He just stood there, so I flipped him on the dick and said "Tag! You're it!" and ran for the staircase. He was close behind, but I didn't let him catch me till his bed loomed in front, big and inviting. We rolled onto it, Greg's mouth beelining for my nipples, and I let him suck me like an overgrown baby as we sported and romped. How does this compare with upstairs maids at resort hotels? I wanted to ask, but I held my tongue. No sense flustering him further, and, of course, he'd wonder how I knew about that.
"Your cock," I gasped, "I want to suck it."
"God, yes!" he replied, taking his mouth off my tits and easing back onto one shoulder. His cock lanced toward me and I angled into it, my tongue coming out naturally, automatically, as I got near enough to touch him.
He had a strong, sweet taste. Different from B.E.'s, different from Rocky's, too, and I wondered if all cocks had their own individual flavors. If so, it promised a life of delightful discovery for me.
"Ohhhh!" he whined as I began to lick him, precisely as B.E. had taught me to do. I held him by the root of his tool and adored the end with my tongue, licking up and down until I was licking fingers instead of him. That was a sure sign for me that it was time to move north once more.
The knob of his cock was big and round, with flaring edges. It reminded me of a swollen bruise, while its taste was literally indescribable. Watery juice was oozing from the wound at his tip, and I lapped the stuff with my tongue. It was clear, virtually flavorless, but it was fluid from the depths of my Greg and I loved it.
From time to time I let the end of him slip into my mouth, where I sucked as if he were a lollipop. Obviously he'd never been sucked like this before, because he couldn't lie still while I did it to him. He twisted and writhed on the bed, and he tried to grab me by the head and impale me on his dick, but I just wasn't ready for that scene yet. We had plenty of time. If his dad had gone to Columbus to pick up Mrs. Pettit and Jill, as Greg said, then we could easily fuck ourselves crazy before they back.
"Don't stop!" he groaned, swiveling his ass so that his cock head jumped around in my mouth. I tightened up and allowed him to sink in a little further. Stopping was the furthest thing from my mind. He couldn't guess how many times I'd dreamed this to him, nor could he know how excited I was now, to be dong-mouthed with his tool.
Goddamn that hand! He couldn't keep it off my head, and I didn't intend to let him take charge of his own seduction. I took his hand off me for the fifth or sixth time, and instead of letting it flop away, I put it to good use. Guiding it toward my crotch, I slid a little closer to him so that his fingers made contact with my wet, aching pussy.
He touched the bush of hair, fingers poking through to the sweaty, tingly flesh beneath, and then he found my slit, already pooched open. "God, Diana," he said admiringly, "I think you have the nicest pussy I've ever seen."
"Nnnnnnn!" I said around his thrusting cock. But words weren't important. What counted was the way I twitched my bottom for him, the way that he got his middle linger between my velvety soft cuntal lips and started to use it on me like a miniature version of his penis.
I was wet, sloppy wet, and ready as I'd ever be. His finger plumbed me, causing more and more wetness to flow inside, and I closed my snatch on him, milking his finger with the muscles I'd begun to develop down there. Greg thrust happily into my sucking cuntal tightness, and I paid him in kind, my mouth sucking up his cock the way my pussy ate his finger.
But it could be better still. I wanted him to lick me now, to probe with his tongue where he now had his finger, and I gave my buttocks a heaving twist that plopped my crotch onto his face.
Greg tried to say something, but he could hardly speak with his mouth full of my cunt, and he gave up the attempt. Instead, he got his hands on my ass, prying the tight-cheeked hillocks further apart, and he started to work me over with his tongue.
To be honest, he didn't do a very good job. He'd been okay with his finger, but he seemed to lick everyplace except where I needed it. I don't believe he ever found my clit, though it was sticking out so hard and hot that it should have burnt the end of his tongue off with even the slightest contact. The end result of it was to frustrate the hell out of me, because I wanted to be eaten, and I'd put myself where he couldn't help but eat me, and here he was, muffing it.
But even if he wasn't so great, he was enthusiastic, and his tongue seemed to be as long as his cock, and I had a pretty good notion that I could train him to eat me the way I wanted to be eaten. The talent was there. All I had to do was channel it.
I was torn between desires. I wanted Greg's cum in my mouth, but I also wanted his cock in my pussy, and I couldn't be sure we had enough time to get it off orally, then swing into a hot fuck from scratch. So, reluctantly, regretfully, I uncocked my mouth and purred into the summer warmth of the room, "Greg, darling, will you please throw me onto my back and fuck my buns off, like you promised?"
Such a sweet, sultry, inviting voice – what could the dear boy do but flip me over, arrange me on my back, and get between my legs? I brought my feet up, resting the backs of my ankles on his broad strong shoulders as he knelt there, and I looked down my belly at the wet, red lance jutting outward from his loins. I'd made it wet, I'd made it red, I'd turned it into the ready, randy lance that it was at this moment, and shouldn't I have the honor of leading it into my hungry snatch?
I reached down, taking him by the cock, and I lined him up with my pouty twat. Pouty, yes, the way a spoiled child is pouty, and aching with the need, the desire to have him balls deep and rutting away in my female wound. "Here," I said, rubbing the tip of him on my slit, through the spit-matted clump of my pubic hair. "Here is where I want you!" and with that I placed the end of Greg's tool against my waiting hole.
He started to push toward me, but he was a beat too slow. I'd already gone into a writhing that brought me quivering and sighing at him, and his dick trembled as it vanished up my sucking maw of a pussy. "Come on," I panted, "you've gotta help, too, baby!"
Oh, he helped! He got his hands around my upraised thighs and started to pound his peter into me as I bounced my ass to meet his thrusts. He went deep, and he reamed massively, and I twisted and wiggled with squeals of passion and zeal.
"See?" I whispered, "you're great! Fanfuckingtastic!"
"Yeah," he agreed, his eyes bright and sweat beading on his head and chest. "With you it's perfect!"
As we fucked I reached down to pet my pussy, and I made sure to fondle and rub the clitoral nubbin Greg had overlooked while he was eating me.
"Here," he said, "let me touch you, too," and his hand moved into the fray alongside mine. He stroked at first with no apparent plan, but he soon noticed that I was paying a lot of attention to one special spot, and he moved there, too. "What's this?" he asked when his fingers touched my clit.
"Keep rubbing," I croaked, dry-throated from lust, "and you'll find out!"
That did it as far as I was concerned. With his cock ramming deeply, fiercely, with his hand busy and energetic an my sex trigger while my own fingers pulled and tweaked and twisted my stiff, aching nipples, all I had to do was lie there and soak in it. My first come struck me without warning, and I screamed and bucked and it must have startled Greg, because he stopped fucking for a moment.
"Work, Goddamn you!" I squealed. He got the message, and he redoubled his efforts. My clitoral region was afire beneath his fingers and my pussy rippled in contractions that sucked up his dick, then spat it out. He had to do precious little beyond keep his cock where it belonged.
And the harder he stroked my clit, the more apparent it became to me that I was about to have another climax, more intense than the first. What a beautiful day this is, I told myself, allowing that come to hit me like a big ocean wave, and as it faded there was still another to take its place. I stopped thinking about that time and threw all my energies into my blinding, shattering response.
So much so that I scarcely noticed when Greg's own explosion came. I was vaguely aware that his cock had begun to rabbit-fuck inside me, driving in and out with desperate, penetrating jabs, and I think I felt the shudders of him as he unloaded deep in my cunt, but by then I was nearly numb from the intensity of what my own body was feeling, and the most important thing I drew from Greg was the warm closeness that seemed to radiate from his body as we rocked and bucked and thrust together in our own private realms of excitement.
And when it was over, when the waves had subsided and my body sprawled in contentment with their passing, when Greg's tool had popped from my cunt to allow the seepage of thick streams of our fuck juice, when we lay together side by side, kissing and purring and touching each other where it felt best, he looked into my eyes and I looked into his and we saw only pleasure and delight.
"One more, time?" I asked, and there seemed to be an echo in the room. Until I realized that he had asked me precisely the same question just as I spoke. We both laughed, and he put his lips to my breasts while my hand sought out his dick, and I hoped we could get at least one more fuck in before his family arrived from Columbus.