"Don't just stand there, Cindi," Dotti giggled, removing her red jersey. "Take your shorts off and let me see your pussy."
They were in Dotti's bedroom, and Carl was in the John cleaning his cock. His clothes were tossed over the back of a chair.
"You little twat," Cindi whispered. "Why didn't you let Carl get me?"
"After a guy comes, he's out of it for a while. You should know that," Dotti giggled. "What's a little fun between chicks, huh?"
Cindi trembled, not wanting to act like a complete square. Touching the cute brunette's tits had been pleasurable. It was safe sex, and it was the in thing at school. Now that she had stopped waiting for her father to break her in, she might as well enjoy it all. Short of cock in cunt, Cindi didn't trust condoms. John squirted bugless semen.
"Okay," Cindi laughed. "I haven't seen your cunt yet."
"Last night you did," Dotti smiled, "but it was kind of dark." She unfastened her cutoffs and dropped them to the floor. She wore thin blue bikini panties, and their crotch showed a trace of wetness.
"Didn't you have your fun before I came over?" Cindi asked. She unzipped her shorts to slide them down from her hips. Her red bikini panties were sopped along her slit.
"It takes me a while to get hot, honey," Dotti giggled, her big tits swaying as she wiggled nearer. "You sure made it fast. You must've played with, your clit before you dropped over."
"Oh, some," Cindi smiled.
"Cute pussy," Dotti giggled, catching Cindi around the waist. She pushed her cunt mound into Cindi's crotch. Their breasts met tinglingly, and Cindi felt her clit responding. The velvety warm touch of Dotti's body felt surprisingly good.
Cindi slid her hands down to Dotti's ass, and she held her mouth out for a kiss. Dotti took her lips quickly. Their tongues met and coiled. Cindi pushed her titties forward and felt Dotti shiver. Not bad at all! Of course, she had been turned on by seeing and holding Carl's prick, watching it belch a white stream of jism.
Dotti spread her thighs, and Cindi realized she was taking over; the cuddly brunette was the "girl." Cindi glued her moist, panty-covered pussy to Dotti's cunt and hunched swiftly. It wasn't like kissing Carl and feeling his cock, but it held a lot of promise for future thrills.
Alone with Dotti, she was not even sure she could come. But the day had been so full of shocks and surprises, she could believe almost anything. Dotti felt so smooth and voluptuous. She was really pushing her cunt out; the feel of two pussies sliding together, even covered, was bringing up Cindi's clit again.
Carl pumped his prick a few times and stepped out of the can. Somehow, he had to get his stinger in that long-legged blonde. At school, she didn't mingle, was always alone, acting as if she was too good for the studs. Al Hood hadn't got it, and he was considered pretty smooth with a pussy.
Dotti pulled out of Cindi's embrace and looked at Carl. Her dark eyes fastened on his prick as she wiggled over in front of him.
"We never did suck it, hot stuff," she cooed, reaching for his cock.
"I want to fuck," he grinned. "How about you, Cindi?"
"I don't fuck," she said, easing backward into a chair. "You two go ahead. I didn't get a very good look last night."
He wanted to tell her to go screw herself, but some of the best lookers were always hardest to make out with. She sure loved kissing and tit play, though. Maybe if she watched him dump a load in Dotti she would take those creamed panties off and spread out for him. Most of them only said they wouldn't fuck to start with.
Cindi was trying to act very cool about all this, but Carl's prick was looking better and better. Here was an available cock, and John's wasn't. Saving herself for her father seemed more ridiculous every moment; he wouldn't give in, no matter what. Dotti had fun with the guys because she put out. It was as simple as that.
I'll talk to Ellen about getting on the pill, Cindi thought. Then I can fuck raw cock! It should feel a lot better than taking it with one of those rubbers. I had my hand on Carl's prick, and now I need it in me!
Dotti lowered her panties and slid onto the bed, her thighs wide open. Carl picked up his pants, took out his box of rubbers, drew one from the container, and peeled it down over his rigid prick. The sheath was so very thin his cock looked almost natural. Cindi felt more juice leaking into her panties.
"Get your ass over on the bed and I'll give you some of this, too, baby," he grinned, arching his hips at her.
"Come on, honey!" Dotti gurgled. "It feels real good in there."
Cindi shook her head, not trusting her voice. Carl shrugged, moved to the bed, and crawled between Dotti's outspread legs. His head lowered to her tit, and he drew a nipple in his lips to suck it. Dotti cooed, running her fingers through his long, wavy hair.
"He likes my tits," Dotti giggled, gazing over at Cindi. "At least take off your panties so we can see your pussy."
Oh, they're laying it on me! Cindi thought. Like last night, she's so casual about it. It's almost like she was having a Coke with a guy. I want it to be special when a guy humps his prick into me!
Dotti arched up one tittie and then the other. It was real neat having her nipples kissed right in front of Cindi. She had Cindi beat in that department, anyway. Plenty of chicks were after Carl. He could have just about his pick at school, and even Helene liked him. She said it was okay to go steady with Carl. Her Mom knew what that meant-putting out.
It was kind of funny about Helene and Carl. The previous week when he had dropped by to see Dotti, she had been in the johnny, and Helene had met him at the door. When Dotti had finally appeared, she could swear she had interrupted something, because Carl had a kind of flustered look on his face.
The thought of her mother playing games with a guy young enough to be her son was weird. Helene had no steady, though. Her eyes sure lit up when she talked about John Allison, Cindi's dad. Well, Helene was only thirty-seven. She got her share of cock when she went out two or three nights a week.
"You gonna play with your pussy, Cindi?" Dotti giggled.
"No!" Cindi exclaimed. Her cheeks were flushed.
"Get over here and I'll do it," Dotti laughed. "On his second shot, Carl takes a long time!"
Cindi was frantic. Dotti was a bitch, like those three twats on the beach, about to take a cock and still chattering, acting real with-it. "Second shot" indeed! Cindi did want Dotti to fondle her pussy. There was no question about that. The sweet urgency in her loins was turning into a hard ache.
Suddenly, Carl was putting his prick into Dotti's cunt. The brunette reached down to steer it, her plump thighs spread farther, and Cindi watched the sheathed cock ooze slowly into the up-tilted cunt. What a sight! There had been too many shadows the previous evening. Now she was able to view the whole thing in intimate detail. Dotti uttered a little gasp of delight.
"Uhhhh!" Carl muttered, hunching down and in. His chest lowered to Dotti's titties, and she grabbed him around the shoulders as he began to fuck.
"Is it good cunt, honey?" Dotti gurgled.
"Yeahh!" he said, his voice strained. The movements of Carl's ass, the basic coital thrusts, and the expression of animal lust on his face all said he was much more excited than Dotti. He was not going to squirt on her tits this time. He had it in her and would shoot it there.
"Ohh, it's real big, stud!" Dotti breathed, finally showing some interest. Her thighs pulled back farther, as if she were trying to take more of his cock-a repeat of the night before but more stimulating, Cindi thought. She had seen and heard so much since then: peeping at John and Ellen, the picnic with her father, and all that scrambling around inside the girls' tent. The inside of Cindi's brain seemed to be filled with the image of John's huge, dark, thick cock. This was just another agonizing peep show, more vivid than the others.
In spite of her resolve not to, she seized her panty-hugged pussy and started thrusting her hips on her hand. Her clit was a hot dagger of need. She had to finish! Cindi's left hand flew to her tingly titties. She cupped the left one and felt the burning lift of her passion. Her head whirled. The scene in front of her dimmed, and all that mattered was the surging pulses of fun shooting through her clit!
Cindi heard the chair creaking with her efforts. Her thighs jerked, and her titties pushed way forward. She could hear her far-away cry of victory! It was more than fun that was leaping from her cunt! It was just about the heaviest climax of her life! The luscious pangs were so damned good they hurt her tender pussy flesh! She had waited so long-too long.
Look at that blonde get her goodies! Dotti thought, enviously. I figured she was putting me on a while ago, on the sofa, but not anymore. She's fucking her hand like it was a prick! Carl'll sure be after that cunt!
Carl moaned and started hunching faster. The scene was turning him on. And no wonder! It was also heating Dotti. The drive of his rigid prick felt sweeter than it ever had. The night before, after Cindi's sudden departure, Dotti had made it only once, even though Carl had used up three rubbers.
"Ohhh, I'm making it, I'm getting off!" Dotti panted.
Carl shuddered and went into his short strokes.
The hard, busy drives were groovy, feeling a prick puff and throb in her pussy proved how appealing Dotti was. She was not going to let Cindi take Carl away from her! Carl was also making it!
"Ughhhh! Fuuuuuck!" he moaned, jolting in so hard Dotti's ass slipped along the bedspread.
"Ohhhh, I'm coming!" Dotti cried. The tingles were good. Sometimes she had to fool around with her pussy for half an hour or more to make it come. She could not understand how Cindi could get hers off twice in a row. Older women could, she knew, because she had overheard Helene tell a woman friend one day that three orgasms were just starters for her.
Carl finished with shudders and moans, breathing like a steam engine. Dotti panted fast, too. She looked over at Cindi. Her blonde friend was recovering, slumped in the chair like a rag doll, her hips still shifting.
Suddenly, Cindi's eyes opened. She flushed and leaped from the chair. Grabbing up her halter and shorts, she ran from the bedroom.
Helene Fancher was bored stiff. Driving around the city had not produced anything interesting. She had not had a good fuck for a week, and one of her now-and-then dates was out of town. She had stopped in one cocktail lounge and two chicks had I invited her up to their pad for a girl-party, but today she craved prick. The damned place was teeming with chicks on the make. While she occasionally went for it, it was not really her bag. Sometimes a woman her age needed good, hard pumping cock, the feel of a man, the gush of semen.
Cruising on a side street she saw a car she recognized: John Allison's big sedan. It was pulled up in front of the Santa Rosa Bar, and she quickly found a parking spot. Now there was a stud she could really go for! Married ones suited her better. She wanted no close ties-as long as she collected all that nice alimony from her ex. Helene loved variety.
In the cozy twilight of the lounge, she spotted John at the bar and felt a twinge in the clit. Heads turned as she swayed up and sat beside him. She wore a tight skirt and a peasant blouse that gave her tits a chance to show off-with minimal undies.
"Look who's here," she murmured, nudging John's left leg with a nyloned knee. "Big John-all alone."
"Hi, neighbor," he said, looking at the cleft between her boobs. "Are you horsing or just teasing?"
"Both," she giggled. "Interested?"
"Didn't know you cared," he grinned. He'd had quite a few. "But I'm beat. I'm drained."
"I'll bet I can get it up," she purred in his ear, letting her left breast cushion into his arm. A sweet itch warmed her clit. Half drunk or not, his masculinity was like a warm hand on her cunt. She knew his reputation, how he usually chased young stuff; he had even married one.
The well-padded girl behind the bar wiggled up in front of Helene. "You buying or selling, honey?"
"Well, fuck you, too, baby," Helene smiled pleasantly. "At least, mine are real."
"What is this, a tit contest?" the girl offered. "Don't bother the paying customers."
"Let's get out of here, doll," John said, finishing his drink.
"Hey, I was kidding," the girl protested.
A few moments later, they were in Helene's car. She leaned back in the seat and let her skirt slither up to her crotch. John dropped his left hand into the V of Helene's nyloned thighs. She opened them, turning halfway toward him. He cupped her pantied cunt and she lifted it encouragingly. Drained or not, that lump in his pants was just terrific.
Two weeks earlier, Helene had been invited to a cocktail party at the Allison's, and she had decided then she wanted to fuck with John. He had that kind of effect on women. They looked at him and knew he was a panther.
"Does it do anything for you, horse?" she giggled. "It sure does for me."
"Never let it be said I didn't try," John chuckled. He drew his left hand away and replaced it with his right, gazing down inside her blouse. He gave Helene's cunt a squeeze, she felt tingles fanning out through her pelvis. Those two martinis she had downed earlier were working overtime.
"Well, don't finger fuck me right here," she giggled. "Let's go someplace."
"You pick the spot," he said.
Helene suddenly recalled she had the key to a woman friend's apartment. Beth was in Europe with a young screenwriter ten years her junior. Beth was a rich widow; she and Helene had got it on a couple of times using a two-pronged dildo.
Shivering, Helene started the motor, a heady surge of need bunching in her groin. John kept his hand on her pussy, and she managed to drive with her legs open. She was so excited, she almost ran a red light. John might prefer young cunt, but he was sure going for hers.
John was recovering from the emptiness he had felt after bringing Cindi home. He had really hurt her. Maybe he should have fucked his daughter. Booze loosens the morals, so he had purposely not taken any liquor to the picnic. He could worry about incest tomorrow. The classy divorcee from next door wanted a fuck, and his cock was getting up.
He didn't ask questions about the extravagant apartment with a fine view of Santa Rosa Island, but it obviously belonged to a woman of good taste, since the decorations were very sensual. He had not been this drunk for a long time. Another easy lay, and the pussy he wanted most he couldn't touch.
"Drink first?" Helene cooed, gliding against him, her tits riding hard on his chest, her rich thighs opened, and her cunt flattened to his basket.
"At intermission," John chuckled, gripping her resilient ass, and lifting her skirt behind. He ran a finger across her fine warm thighs between the stocking tops and panties.
"Oh, shit, you feel good," she breathed in his ear. "Isn't Wendy doing her homework?"
"I'm just teaching her how to be a good fuck," he grinned.
"You dirty animal-but I love it!" she said. Her lips coursed along his cheek as she found his mouth and opened her mouth wide. He burrowed into the clinging softness, his cockhead beginning to swell. Her tongue flicked and flirted, while a soft whine came up in her throat.
He touched her panty-hugged cunt and she trembled, giving him more tongue. Her slit was already juiced, and he played along it as she back tipped her ass. No matter how hungry a pussy was, he always gave it plenty of fingers and mouth, exploring and re-exploring. Making the woman come was the mark of a good craftsman. The rest was pure delight.
John tickled Helen's cunt and nibbled around on her lips till she gasped and buried her face against his shoulder. Her short, dark wavy hair smelled great, and her arms gripped as if she were starved for cock. She was a grown-up image of Dotti, her twitchy-assed daughter. That dainty little cunt needed fucking, too.
"Let's get these clothes off, honey," she breathed, "unless you want me to come right here!"
"I heard once that French girls are good at humping," he murmured.
"Oh, you've been in Europe, you probably already know that," she said, shivering. "I want you to know right now, whenever you want a little on the side, just call."
"It depends on how good it is," he laughed.
Helene felt a high, sweet glow she had not experienced for ages. Whoever had fucked with John earlier had not taken all of his strength. Helene had the Continental outlook on sex, even though she had not been born in France, as many people thought. Her ex, Henri, had taught her that. Her father was working in the embassy at Paris when Henri had spotted her at eighteen.
A typical provincial American, Helene had not known much about sex. Henri had even picked her cherry, though he waited almost a month after the marriage to tear it. But he had sure enjoyed her body from one end to the other; he had broken her in before his big moment, finally easing his cock into her cunt.
Two years later, Helene had learned why he went off so infrequently with her. He had been keeping a middle-aged concubine the whole time. She was already pregnant with Dotti, by then, so she went along with it. But after they moved to the States and he had built up a good income, she had cut the string.
The idea of a horse like John getting pussy on the sly was not offensive to Helene. Girls could be polygamous, too. Henri had awakened her to her basic, natural desires, and she had learned that just owning a cunt didn't mean a girl got fun out of it. She had even learned to masturbate proficiently, and even that took practice and know how.
"I'll bet I'm better than your average fuck, honey," Helene said.
He grinned and released her. John was smoother than silk and had had lots of experience. He removed his clothes almost casually, watching Helene do her own bedroom strip. Tits first-she took the blouse away slowly. Her bra was designed to lift and shape. Her nipples were bare. Having them stand out against the blouse fabric gave her added allure.
"Ummm," John smiled, a spot of color on each side of his throat. "Good boobs. I like those long nipples."
Helene giggled, left the bra in place, and unfastened her skirt. John's shirt came away. He got out of the trousers and shoes but left his socks on. A married man at home removes his socks, a lover leaves them on. His briefs were white and tight. The mountain inside them was almost scary.
After Dotti was born I had my vagina snugged by surgery, she remembered. Henri has only six inches, and my current halfway steady isn't well endowed. But God! This animal has a monster! My cunt is just streaming. Wendy is a very lucky little twat.
Her skirt dropped, and she stepped out of it, leaving her heels and nylons and panties. John grinned. Suddenly, the head of his cock swelled up past the band of his briefs. Helene felt a wave of dizziness. That glands, still untouched by a surgeon's knife, like Henri's, was three inches thick!
"You are built like a horse," she breathed. All that stuff about what a man did with his cock being more important than the size was pure shit. Even a few minutes of such a tool would be worth an hour of ordinary prick!
"Good body," he smiled, his blue eyes shiny. Something about wide-shouldered, blond men excited Helene. It was to be another conquest of Brittany by the Vikings. John's savage appeal hit her in the cunt like a hammer. One girl would never satisfy a stud like him.
"The bedroom's over here," she said, parading ahead of him.
John sniffed the delicate aroma of cunt, watching the twist of Helene's ass in the black mini-panties. Maybe he could muster up another big gush of semen.
The bedroom was as fluffily feminine as the rest of the place with its big round bed and a carpet deep enough to fuck on. Erotic water colors on the nearest wall showed two girls and one guy tangling and two chicks fucking.
"Your friend a lesbian?" John asked, steering Helene to the bed.
"She likes it both ways. A very wealthy widow. You interested?"
"My cock's in enough trouble already," he muttered. Forget Cindi! Some young guy'll come along and punch her cherry. She has to learn one way or another. I've got Wendy and Ellen-and now Helene.
Shuddering, Helene stretched back on the resilient bed, opened her legs, and watched John lower his briefs. How true her first glimpse had been! She had once seen such a cock in a dirty movie. Nine or ten inches of pure meat-but she had never dreamed she would get a shot at one. Her clit stiffened, and her nipples erected as if they were already being kissed.
"I envy young Wendy," Helene gurgled, undulating her ass. "If you two ever want a little three-some, you know who to call."
"Afraid she isn't that liberated yet," John grinned. He sat at her right, his hand sliding along her thighs toward her eager cunt. He had beautiful hands, almost as skillful as a woman's. Helene arched her hips, shivering with sweet anticipation.