When Mr. and Mrs. Pettibone arrived home on Sunday evening, they found their house pretty much as Sharon had left it after no less than five sessions of extraordinary self-abuse. On the livingroom sofa was a stain, a splotch, the size of a watermelon. In the kitchen was the odor of clit juice. Those two rooms, in fact, smelled like a French whore house after six weeks of defilement. The refrigerator door was open, the food stank. The t.v. was on and blaring, as was the new stereo system. The throw rugs were disheveled and tossed here and there on furniture.
As for their bedroom, Mr. and Mrs. Pettibone couldn't believe their eyes. They discovered their daughter Sharon sprawled out nude with a dildo still vibrating, laying by her side. From her twat leaked a trickle of juice, and in her left hand was a puddle of melted lime jello. The sheets to her left were stained with chocolate pudding. The phone was off the hook and the bedspread was tossed halfway out the window. Sharon was half-conscious. "Hi Mom, hi Dad," she mumbled, and she flicked the machine off. "I guess I fell asleep."
The next morning Mr. Pettibone escorted his daughter to a clinical psychologist who gave Sharon both a physical and mental examination. He found nothing wrong with her physically, but he was rather concerned about her sexual attitudes and fantasies: "I don't quite understand," said Dr. Rooker, "how it is that you are so interested in masturbating yourself, Ms. Pettibone."
"Either that or getting it for real," said young Sharon as she buttoned her blouse. She didn't blush. "I mean really, Doctor Rooker, what would you have me do? I'm a young horny adolescent and I like jacking myself off. I don't know any boys that I really like, and I kind of enjoy sex a lot. So I lay back in bed or in the bathroom and I get myself hot and bothered. It's fun. I like to use my fingers on my clit. It gives me thrills and chills. You know what I mean? It makes me so damn fucking hot that I can't tell you about it. You know what I'm saying? I like men. I like the idea of getting hot and getting laid. But I don't have any boyfriends. I don't know any young men from school who I would like to suck and fuck with. So I masturbate. Is that so sick?"
Dr. Rooker could think of nothing to say. Except, he did tell Mr. Pettibone that Sharon was going through a stage, that she would be able to act a little more normally in a few months or a year, that for right now it wouldn't be too wise to come down hard on her. For that advice and diagnosis Mr. Pettibone refused to pay. He took his daughter home and made her undress in front of him. "You may have talked that Dr. Rooker into thinking you're normal, but you haven't convinced me." He brandished his leather belt. "Lay down across my knee, young lady, and take what you have coming to you."
"Oh, Daddy," she moaned, secretly enjoying the idea, "do I have to?"
"It's for your own good," he said, trying not to eyeball his daughter's supremely luscious chest. "If I don't give you a good licking," he added, "you'll grow up thinking that masturbation is alright. I don't want you to be one of those perverted young women who become models for pornographers. Now lay down across my knee."
She smiled and wondered what it would be like to be a model for a pornographer. Then she laid down across her father's knee, her titties hanging low, her ass cheeks spreading wide. "Oh, Daddy," she begged in as sweet a voice as possible, "don't strap me too hard. Please? Please? Don't hit me too hard with that piece of leather. It might hurt – OH, please, no, oh."
She felt the sting of his punishing strokes at her ass cheeks. He spared her nothing. He whipped her solidly with the leather belt. He left neat red welts on her ass cheeks, and even though it hurt her, even though he beat her body mercilessly, Sharon couldn't help but think that her father didn't really want to do that and that she really didn't mind having it done. It made her pussy leak just to be nude with her father in her parents' bedroom. When it was over, with tears in her eyes, she followed her father's orders to say "I will not jack myself off ever again." He made her say it fifty times before he let her up off his knee. She noticed as she left the room that his cock muscle was tumescent and bulging in his trousers. She wondered as she locked herself in her bedroom if her father was going to jack off now.
That night, when she was going to sleep, Sharon heard her mother coming down the hallway. She opened the door so that Mrs. Pettibone could come in and say good night. Sharon's mother didn't think that her daughter deserved such a terrible punishment, but she also believed that the father of the household was boss. And that's why she was of no assistance during the strapping. "Good night, darling," said Mrs. Pettibone. "You'll feel better in the morning."
"Yes, Mother," said Sharon who was laying on her belly in bed. She had the sheets pulled up around her neck as she lay face down. A moment later her father showed up at the door. "Now you know what kind of trouble masturbation can get you into, Sharon. I expect you'll not do any more of it." He shut the door behind him as he left his daughter alone in her bedroom. Debby, her sister, was still out with one of her boyfriends.
Sharon lay quite still in the darkness. No one knew that secretly she had a finger up between her twat lips. Even as her mother and father spoke to her she'd been fiddling with her clitoris. "I don't care what they say," she mumbled to herself, "I happen to like playing with my meaty little clit button and I'm going to continue to do so until I find a man who can do better. I feel that strongly about it." And she continued to swab at her clit with her index finger. "Oh, God," she moaned, "it feels so nice." She reached out over the edge of the bed.
Even though her father had confiscated what tools and photos he could find, Sharon still harbored, in her secret hiding place between the two mattresses on which she slept, a storehouse of sex appliances. There, right under the place where she was sprawled out, were several cock tease tools, cunt device rubbers, etc. She had just the thing she needed right now. It was a sculpted pecker the size of a shoe. The head of it was thick and made to order for belly masturbating. It was to be used specifically when the woman laid on her stomach.
Sharon lifted the thing out from between the mattresses and stroked it down along the backs of her legs. She slipped it into her clit container from the back, as it was meant to be applied. The cock device worked its way slowly into her pussy. It was self-lubricating and therefore among the easiest of all the tools to use. "Oh, Jesus," she grunted to herself as the tool slid toward home, "I can't believe that they honestly thought I wouldn't play with myself anymore." She rubbed the mechanical pecker into her cunt. "My gushing gash will be the proof of who's right and who's wrong about this issue!"
She rocked her hips up and down, and thereby took on more and more of the synthetic penis. She got most of it into her pussy. Then she began to juice. Along with the secretion of her naturally pleasant smelling ooze came the sensation of other-worldliness. And from then on, she felt like she was in heaven, a celestial spirit floating about the universe like a space-baby made to fly the night skies and vacuums. She worked her way into an hallucinatory state of zesty lust. "Mmmm, good," she hummed. "This shall be nice!"
She let her mind drift. Her imagination brought up the image of an erotically stimulating male parading before her. He was in chains and his wrists were manacled behind his back. He was chained around the naked waist to the man in front of him as well as to the man behind him. They were lined up for an elephant walk, all of them nude, all of them brought to her attention to make her hot and sexy. She was some sort of queen and these were her subjects, some of them willing, some of them slaves. She picked out one with big strong muscles, shiney skin, keen eyes. "That one," she said. "Bring him to me."
He was undone, let free, and he bowed down before her. "I am your sex slave," he said simply. "What can I do for you, Sharon Pettibone?"
Sharon smiled and spread her comely loins. "You can eat out my hole, slave," she said. "Get to it."
He bowed down between her two smooth tanned thighs. He raised his head just slightly so that he could look into her deliciously fresh hole. He saw that the lips were spread, the hair curly, the fluid oozing. He liked the looks of the queen's nice slit. "I'll eat you, Sharon, just as you like." He rubbed his tongue up and down on her mound and entered her. He filled her slippery wet beaver breach with hot wet mouth muscle. She went wild.
"Oh, God, I love you," she moaned. "I love the way you eat me." She took the man's curly head in her hands and pulled his face up close to her snatch. She pressed his open lipped mouth in her pussy. He used his tongue to give her a continuing sensation of delight. He rubbed his mouth muscle up and down on her clitoris. From there he went kissing her loins. He used his hands to spread her leg out so that he could peck at the inside of her thigh, suck on the top of it, rub at the smooth undersurface of her ass cheek. She turned over for him and he went sliding down into her ass crack, there to give her the kind of a rubbing that many women would give their left leg for. He rubbed into her anus and up and around her cheeks. He ended up back around on her pelvis, there to lick out her twat again.
"Now my breasts," she ordered him. "Now you must lick my titties until they are hard and stiff. Come on, boy, and lick my nipples. You can do it the way it needs to be done." He lifted his head up between her two breasts and applied his tongue to the sides of her mammaries. He worked his mouth muscle along the sides of her titties, and finally he went sliding back and forth between the two. He gave her a rather royal treatment.
"Now I shall do something for you," she told him. "Get down on your back."
He laid down as per her instructions. His bronzed and muscular chest shined up at her. She thought for an instant that he was so strong and his body was so muscularly smooth that she could see her reflection in his chest. She leaned down after only a moment's hesitation and pressed her soft boobies up against his large thick thighs. Her nipples went sliding between his legs along with the rest of her teenager pendular mammaries. Everything was quite soft, quite creamy and very erotic for the unexpecting slave man.
Young Sharon Pettibone took to licking at the slave's big thick hard penis muscle. She worked her tongue up and down on it. When the slave man started to use his hands on the woman, she told him, "No, I'll do all the rubbing. You just lay there." She put his hands away from her body.
She then went back to licking his organ. She kissed the muscular head of it, the hot red tip, and she worked her tongue up and down the thickening shaft. She kissed his balls, too. Finally, with her hands cupped around his buns, she pulled his groin up into her face and filled her mouth with his penis meat. She stroked up and down with her sucking lips giving him quite a nice feel. "I like that," commented the slave man, but Sharon told him to be quiet.
She next went sliding up along his chest. She kissed off his manly nipples while rubbing her leg against his penis, down below. She worked her supple skin up between his two legs and rubbed at his loins. She used the top of her thigh to rub against his penis until it was as stiff and thick as it could possibly be. "Now," she said, "I want you to use that exciting sex muscle of yours on my body. I want you to go sliding that thing into my pussy and making me cum. Nothing short of orgasm will do. If you don't make me have a climax, you will die under the sharp silver blade of the throne. Do you understand, slave man?" She smiled jeeringly and gave him access to her deep gash.
"Alright," said the slave. He felt up her legs and pushed his organ into the furry blind. He gave her all of his mushroom head and more. Her curly bush accepted that large meat, took it all on. Into the slick wet breach went his joint. He filled her up good. He gave her more cock meat than she would ever need. He rode her for an hour and she panted and huffed and puffed with ecstasy in every breath. There was no stopping either one of them. For the slave a successful fuck meant life, liberty, freedom and the pursuit of happiness. For the woman a good one meant orgasm, ecstasy.
"You're getting good and hot," she told him after five hundred strokes. "It's going to work. You can make me cum and save your neck." She wrapped her fingers around his two ass cheeks and pulled him in deep. She aimed her twat at his rocket flesh missile and took him on at the angle she knew would be best for both of them. His shooting flesh filled her with jism at just the right moment. She came and long interior smooth muscle contracted in series around his joint. She tugged out every drop of cum that he had to give her. "Oh, God," she moaned, "I love it. I love the way you fuck! It's good. I'm cuming! Oh, yes, God, I'm cuming…" She juiced all over his thick penis meat until her insides had turned into a clit juice swimming pool. When it was all over he pulled his meat out and thought happily to himself that he was no longer a slave man – he was a free man!
But just then the queen, Sharon Pettibone, finished off her fantasy: "Off with his head!" she ordered. "And bring me the next one!" She spread her comely loins and laughed mercilessly. She didn't stick around, either, to see the expression of betrayal on her slave's face. That would have been too much for even a teenager to handle.
She was back in reality, in the darkness of her bedroom, fisting the dildo in and out of her yet to climax cunt. She was waiting for that final stab which would send her twittering clit into the throes of total orgasmic ecstasy. "Oh, God," she roared under her breath in a hoarse whisper, "I should have let him finish me off completely." She referred to her slave man and her fantasy. "I'll have to think of something else now, something else to make me cum."
She let loose of the dildo for a moment. It was dark in her bedroom. She could feel herself sweating between her legs. She could feel the leak of clit ooze between her twat lips, and she knew that she wasn't very far at all from a very satisfying orgasmic high. She just had to think up that one last image which would send her over the hill, into the Meadow Of Bliss, up onto High Cloud, into The Land of Love.
She tried to relax her brain and picture herself alone in the arms of one of her highschool friends. He was tall and good-looking, and his name was Sam. He played football and all the girls were hot for his body. It was he, Sam, who Sharon figured would get her the rest of the way up the sex ladder. She saw him rubbing her titties, sucking on her nipples, playing between her legs and rubbing down her mound. She enjoyed the feel of his fingers sliding back and forth between her labia lips. She liked especially the way he attacked her clitoris with his long middle digit. "Oh, yes, Sam, do it!" she muttered. "Really get me hot and juicy, babydoll. I need, I need to cum! You hear me, honey? I need to fucking CUM!"
She rolled her legs open wide, and even though she was on her belly, this added spread between her thighs enabled the rear-end dildo to go sliding even deeper into the breach. She could feel the prong-like tip as it bounced up against the back of her cunt. She enjoyed that and pretended it would never end.
It wasn't long after that when she realized she was only a throb away from orgasm. To make sure that she didn't squeal too loudly when the final chills crept across her body, she buried her face in her pillow. Then she bore down hard, pressed the stiff, meat-like plastic rod all the way into her cave. She gave the thing a good stiff shove, and off she went, zooming like a hang-glider, flying upwards, swooping here and there in her sensuous flight of ecstasy. The next thing she knew it was morning and her mother was telling her she must prepare for school.