Chapter 1
I wondered if she realized the effect she was having on me. Of course, she had no way of knowing that my prick was trying to poke its sizable head through my trousers to get a closer look at the mouth-watering display of tanned thighs, tantalizing halter-clad tits, bare belly, and a pair of hips that were almost boyish until you saw that plump little mound where the red shorts tried to bury themselves in the vertical crease.
She was somewhere hi her mid-teens, that delightful age of mingled innocence and amoral curiosity which I found so irresistible. She was also the daughter of my nearest neighbor, Dexter Savage, who owned the farm adjoining my five-acre tract.
Her brown hair spilled down over bare shoulders, one wisp falling across her elfin face to tease her pert nose. Full lips like ripe cherries smiled invitingly, and my cock bobbed its head in enthusiastic approval.
"How old is your niece?" she asked, bending to pet the black dog she had come to retrieve. The movement tightened the shorts about her luscious buttocks, and her breasts jiggled enticingly under the thin restraint, shoving their creamy mounds over the top until one delicate aureole peeped at my staring face. I cleared my throat nervously.
"She's about your age," I answered. Then I hastily added, "My sister's several years older than I am. But she'd never admit it."
Teresa Savage straightened. That is, she stood up. Built as she was, she could never straighten. There were just too many curves battling for exposure. She gave a thoughtful frown.
"Why is it, Mr. Crossman, that women want to be younger than they are? I wish I were older."
"I don't," I said truthfully. "I'd say you're the perfect age. And don't call me Mr. Crossman. You make me feel ancient."
The wet lips curved. 'Td rather be your age, Brad."
"You'll get there," I grinned back. "All it takes is time."
The lower lip pushed out in a little pout. "Yeah, but I don't want to wait. I hate being treated like a dumb kid!"
I shifted my feet under the small table, and made rings with the empty glass. The kind of treatment I had in mind for her was far from kid stuff. But I had to be extraordinarily cautious.
"I hope you'll spend some time with Sherry when she gets here," I told her. "I haven't seen her for a couple of years, but I remember she was complaining about the same thing."
"It'll be fun to talk to somebody besides these hicks," she agreed. The Up pushed out again. "I have choir practice tonight. But I could come over tomorrow morning."
"I'll tell Sherry," I said. "Why don't you have breakfast with us?"
She gave me an impish smile. "Ummm! That sounds cozy." She leaned across the table, and the halter skidded down as the breasts swung outward. I stared into the exciting cleft as she exclaimed, "Want to kiss me goodbye?"
Did I? Kissing was the least of the things I wanted to do to her. My cock felt like a bar of hot steel along my thighs, and my balls seemed twice as large as normal.
She had her eyes closed, and those constantly moist lips were puckered in invitation. I leaned forward and let the fireworks go off in my brain as my mouth touched hers, gently at first, then greedily.
There was the briefest of hesitation when our lips met. She sucked in a little breath through her nose and increased the pressure, opening her mouth wider and easing that delicious tongue out and into mine.
Then, clumsily, but quite effectively, I gained my feet, and we managed to move to the end of the table, our mouths still glued together. Her arms went about my neck, and I pulled her half-naked body against the throbbing erection I had been nursing since she first arrived.
Her hips jerked as she felt the hardness jab her belly, and I was afraid she was going to pull away. Instead, she gave a little groan, and pressed her hips against me with a hungry grinding that drew my hands down to cup the firm cheeks of her writhing ass.
Her tongue was a hungry snake, darting and twisting inside my mouth as her lips moved almost angrily against mine. Her tits, even firmer than I had anticipated, dug strutted tips into my chest, and she moved them back and forth with a little twist of her slender waist.
My own hips were responding, rolling my prick against the yielding heat, while my fingers kneaded the resilient flesh of her buttocks. Desire, raw and unquestioning, thundered through my body, and I suddenly realized that I was only seconds away from spurting my load in a dry hump.
I shifted my fingers to her naked waist and forced her back, our lips parting with an obscene sucking sound. She held onto my neck as her eyes opened and she blinked at me with a glazed stare.
"Why didn't you do that a long time ago?" she asked in a choked whisper. "And why did you stop?"
I licked my lips, tasting her sweetness. "No questions," I said hoarsely. "You said goodbye kiss." I patted her bottom and gave her a little push. "Now, scoot! I'll see you tomorrow."
She made a face, and stuck her tongue out, tempering the gesture with a smile. Then, snapping her fingers at the small dog, she walked away, the red shorts wiggling with a deliberate motion.
Groaning, I picked up the glass and hurried inside the house and into the shower, letting the cold water diminish my rune-inch erection to a bothersome semi-hard. Then, donning fresh slacks and a clean shirt, I entered the room I had set aside as my working studio.
I started out, ten years ago, as a photographer. But two years of coaxing obnoxious babies to smile, and posing wrinkled old hags to make them look like young chicks convinced me that the camera could be used for other purposes.
I did some of what used to be called "cheese cake," and lucked into an order for something a little bolder. Before long, I was snapping stills of both males and females in every position I could imagine.
It was then that I got the idea for an underground comic strip. It wouldn't pay as much as some of the more conventional cartoons. But I had the connections to distribute it widely enough to provide a steady income.
I was no artist, but I could handle a pen reasonably well. All I had to do was pose my characters and snap them. Then, I used the photograph as a guide for my drawings.
It was easy. And my pen could enlarge tits and cocks, and produce erections at will. The strip was a success, and I used some of the income to purchase the small farm where I could work without intrusion.
My neighbors, outwardly conservative, accepted me as a run-of-the-mill photographer, and I added to the illusion by taking a few local shots and showing them around. If they ever saw my real work, I'd become a prime candidate for tar and feathers.
Althea, my older sister, had written me a week earlier, asking me if I would keep Sherry for a couple of weeks. The letter was not too clear. But I concluded that she and Arthur had an opportunity to take a cruise with one of Arthur's friends, and they didn't want to be bothered with a teen-aged girl tagging along.
I agreed with mixed emotions. Having a kid underfoot would present some problems. But if Sherry had developed as she had indicated on my last visit, she would be more of a challenge than a problem.
At thirty-one, I found myself increasingly drawn to those nubile creatures society decreed were too young for the purposes I had in mind. It was a dangerous inclination, and one in which I indulged only when I was reasonably certain of complete secrecy. But it was also a need over which I seemed to have little control. Just as I had done with Teresa, I found myself incapable of resisting the invitation of any lovely nymphet with a matching desire for sensual pleasure.
Bullshit! I admonished myself as I climbed into the station wagon and backed down the long drive. What I really meant was that I had become a dirty old man who got his kicks by balling young girls. The younger they were, the more I wanted them.
Oh, I drew a line. I hadn't degenerated completely. But my prick was without conscience when it sensed the potential of a juicy young pussy.
I waved at Mary Lou Savage, Teresa's mother, who was just turning from the roadside mailbox, and she fluttered her fingers in reply. What would she say, I wondered, if she knew that I had just come within seconds of giving her darling daughter the screwing of her young life?
It was ten miles from the farm to the small diner that served as a bus stop for the town. I covered it in twelve minutes, and parked the wagon behind a battered pickup loaded with several bales of hay and sacks of feed. Atop the hay, a girl in faded blue jeans and a too-tight shirt gave me a toothy grin and pretended to pick a piece of straw from her shapely thigh, providing an excuse for the wide spread of her legs and the arousing view of her plump little pussy mound trying to burn its way out of the clinging denim.
"Hot, ain't it?" she called as I passed the rear of the truck, staring openly at her obvious offering. I gave her an exaggerated wink.
"I'll bet it is!"
She was still giggling when I pushed through the squeaking door of the diner into the air-conditioned smell of fried chicken and apple pie. I lowered my rump onto the last stool and elbowed the counter. A plump girl with bovine eyes and tits to match shoved a hand-scrawled menu before me. I shoved it back.
"Give me a Coke," I told her, and turned as a hand fell lightly on my shoulder. Turning, I faced the Reverend Carl Duff, pastor of the little church that served the farms south of town, including mine.
"Well, Bradley," he boomed in that pulpit voice. "What brings you to the big city?"
Duff was convinced that it was only a matter of time before he made a convert of me, and I wanted to do nothing to disillusion him. For I was equally persuaded that, sooner or later, I was going to convert his two giggling daughters from girlhood to womanhood. In addition, I planned to lighten his marital load by balling his voluptuous wife, Fay. The latter would be easy. Fay Duff had already let me know that she was available to aid a lonely bachelor with his spiritual problems, particularly if the problem was long, hard and hot.
The daughters, Karen and Belinda, were ripe, and I was surprised that none of the local youth had plucked the tempting fruit. But I decided they were a little awed by the father's position, and I counted it as my own good fortune.
I explained my mission to the preacher and pretended to listen to his repeated platitudes, praying for the bus to deliver me. Then, I suddenly realized that Duff was repeating his daughters' names. I gave him my full attention.
"... will have to drop over and visit your niece," he said heartily. "They won't be any trouble, I'm sure."
"Of course," I agreed, almost drooling in my eagerness. "I'll treat them just as I treat Sherry." Translated, that meant I would have them both on their backs at the earliest possible moment.
He was still spouting banalities when the big Trail-ways bus hissed to a stop, and he out fumbled me for the two checks before following me outside.
"My! What a lovely child!" was his admiring exclamation as Sherry climbed down and bounced over to give me a soft peck on the cheek. Bounced is the word, for her tits were testing the fabric of her blouse in a shivering dance, and her rounded little ass shook with each step as she approached. I had to force my hands away from those inviting cheeks, settling for a light grip on her shoulders.
"Hello, Sherry," I said, watching the warm wet lips purse as if expecting a return kiss. My cock was stirring, and it was one of the few times I didn't want a "This is the Reverend Duff. His daughters be over to see you while you're here."
I blinked at what happened just then. One moment, she was a hot-blooded temptress, and, the next, she was an innocent child, smiling shyly at Duff and extending a graceful hand in greeting.
"How do you do, Reverend," she murmured. "It was so thoughtful of you to greet me." She gave me a questioning glance. "I hope Uncle Bradley will take me to hear you preach Sunday. I'll be looking forward to it."
Later, stowing her bags in the wagon, and climbing in beside her, I said, "Since when did you start going to church? And what's with this Uncle Bradley business?"
"Wasn't that what you wanted me to do?" she asked. Her skirt had climbed high on the rounded thighs, and instead of tagging it down, she tucked her feet beneath that delightful bottom and exposed another two inches of forbidden territory. "I was just trying to make a good impression."
"You succeeded," I assured her. "Duff thinks you're one of the seven best angels after that little performance." I was having trouble watching the road and gaping at her legs. I was also developing a stiffness in my joint.
"What do you think, Brad?" she demanded in a sultry tone. I yanked my eyes up to see that she had been watching me watching her. The brown pools glittered with amusement.
"I think you're not a little pig-tailed brat anymore," I said, trying to keep it light. "You've put on a few curves since the last time I saw you."
She shoved the pointed tits forward, looking down at them. "I guess I was pretty dumb," she admitted. With no change in tone, she added, "And flat-chested."
I grinned as I said, "You're not dumb now!"
She looked up quickly, caught my meaning, and laughed. "I think you're right. A 38-C can't possibly be dumb. Just cute."
The ice was broken, and we chatted easily for the rest of the ride. She answered my questions readily enough, yet, when we arrived at the farm, I realized that she had told me practically nothing about herself. She was quite accurate. A 38-C was pretty damned smart.
A storm was building in the southwest, and the wind was beginning to bend the top branches of the tall trees in the big yard. After I had carried Sherry's bags into her room, she joined me on the front porch to stare across the flatland toward the gathering clouds. A streak of lightning zigzagged across the dark cotton, and I counted aloud, reaching twenty before the distant rumble shattered the air. Sherry's shoulders trembled.
"I hate storms," she said In a soft voice. "They make me feel so helpless. Do you think it will be a bad one?"
Standing just behind her, I wanted nothing more at that moment than to move forward, fitting my cock into the cleft of her deliciously curved little ass. Instead, I cleared my throat.
"It'll probably get a little noisy. But there's nothing to worry about. This house was well-built, and it's been here a long time."
She turned about, seeming to drift toward me until the points of her unfettered breasts touched my chest like two live coals. She didn't press, but stood almost motionless, our bodies connected by those strutted nipples. Her eyes examined my face as if for the first time, and I felt the warmth of their caress.
"I'm glad I'm with you, Brad," she murmured, her breath fanning my lips. "And I'm glad I'm not a little girl anymore."
My voice was shaky as I said, "So am I, kitten." I nodded toward the doorway. "Let's see what we can find for dinner."
We fixed sandwiches, eating them at the kitchen table while the thunder rattled closer and the wind whistled about the house in little shock waves of suppressed fury. Sherry carried the dishes to the sink and turned to stretch her arms high and wide, tugging her breasts upward. Her skirt tightened across her flat belly and outlined the perfect thighs. My prick began swelling in response, pushing hopefully against my slacks. I turned away to hide the increasing bulge.
"I'm going to take a shower, Brad," she said, "and turn in. That bus ride was murder."
"If you have trouble finding anything," I told her, "just sing out. I'm a light sleeper."
She smiled impishly. "You mean you're not going to lock your door?"
"Call me an optimist," I grinned back. "I always leave the door unlocked and sleep in the nude."
The storm broke about midnight, shaking the earth with its giant fist, and loosing a torrential downpour as the constant lightning bolts ripped open the heavy clouds.
I didn't hear her knock. But the opening of the door swung my eyes around to stare at her lovely body, its complete nakedness revealed in the brilliant and continuous flashes from the tall windows.
I knew she could see me, too. The top sheet was a rumpled pile at the foot of the bed, and I lay on my back, my cock reaching upward in an erection that had never really subsided, since Teresa's teasing play at the patio table.
She moved closer, a picture of youth and innocence so beautiful that I could not speak. For a few pulse-pounding moments, I was tempted to believe that all of my most erotic dreams had been rolled into one. That nubile body, its curves undulating in the flashing light, was the most desirable I had ever seen.
"I don't want to be alone, Brad," she said, her tone almost apologetic. She had begun the sentence with her eyes on my face, but her stare drifted down over my own nakedness as she spoke, ending on the phallic shaft that rose from the base of my belly in passionate engorgement. "May I stay with you until the storm is over?"
The fury outside was a gentle breeze when compared with the volcanic eruption building in my hairy balls. My prick felt as if it might burst at any moment in its monstrous swelling, and the mere sound of her soft voice brought a hot surge of jism pulsing up through its slightly curved shaft to hang, thick and quivering, before creeping slowly down the ventral ridge.
I stretched my right arm across the bed. "Sure, kitten," I answered, surprised at the calmness of my voice. "Come on."
She lay down on her left side, facing me, her shoulder resting on my outstretched arm, and those luscious breasts searing my chest and side with their distended nipples. She wiggled her bottom, and I suppressed a groan when the soft silk of her pubic triangle brushed my hip. Her right arm slid gently across my chest, her ringers worming their way through the thick hair to clasp the swell of my left pectoral, not squeezing, but pressing just enough to bring my own miniature nipple into an aching tautness.
Her breath, sweet and warm, fanned my neck and chin, and her hair, faintly scented, tickled my shoulder. A shudder of desire raced through my body, and Sherry moved closer, the pressure of the soft cunt mound becoming a hot wetness that ground eagerly against the hardness of my hip and thigh.
"Kiss me, Brad!" she whispered, pushing her head and shoulders upward with the hand that clutched my chest. Then, as I started to turn toward her, "Don't move! Please!"
Her face hovered over mine, her eyes shadowed as they held mine with their inscrutable stare. She ran her tongue about the bee-stung lips, then lowered them onto my mouth. Her tits rolled their young firmness against my chest, and the cleft of her pussy widened as she jammed it harder against my thigh. I felt the wetness increase, and my prick strained with eagerness.
The kiss was unlike any I had ever experienced, an exciting combination of young innocence and ageless instinct Even as her tongue explored my teeth and gums with its dainty tip, and my mouth drank her delicious saliva, I found it impossible to determine whether the desirable creature was experienced or virginal.
My tongue met hers, dipping past it to drive into that tasty mouth, and my lips siphoned the sweetness with determined suction. Her jaw moved, and I felt the incredible pleasure of her answering oral tugging.
It was no longer a mere kiss. It was a fusion of minds and bodies concentrated in the meshing lips and swirling tongues. Sherry's nostrils flared in a nasal moan, and she rolled her head to increase the area of contact. Our mingled saliva escaped to bathe my chin and throat, but the wetness only added to our mounting excitement.
Her hand was moving, sliding down over my chest to caress the tender flesh of my side, just above the hip, ringers pressing as if in anticipatory examination, climbing the little swell of my hip and retreating to crawl across my muscle-ridged belly. Inches away, rearing hi throbbing readiness, my prick ached for attention.
Featherlike, her fingertips traced the deep indentation of my navel, burrowing down the slopes with just enough pressure to cause my own fingers to clutch her shoulders more tightly. Her tongue, curved to tease the roof of my mouth, danced faster in understanding.
Lower, keeping her wrist close to my belly, she followed the border of my wiry curls back across to the little valley where hip and thigh meet. My hips jerked as the fingers dipped and crawled forward again, feeling like hot tongues as they caressed the leathery globes of my big balls.
Rain pounded against the window, and lust pounded through every vein in my trembling body. She palmed my nuts, fingers stretching to encompass their swollen bulk, pressing and rolling. Her mouth deserted mine to lick about my panting lips in animal-like hunger.
"Sherry!" I groaned. "Oh, god! Sherry!"
"Shhhhh!" she cautioned, waiting for a roll of thunder to fade before adding, "You'll spoil it!"
Before I could challenge her warning, her mouth was back on mine in an even wilder kiss, wet and noisy. Her hand shifted to the base of my prick, and the fingers curled, warm and knowing.
She couldn't make her thumb and fingers meet. But she could surround enough of the thick shaft to begin a slow pumping that sent shudders of pleasure through my belly. Another spurt of pre-come oozed from the tip, and she slid her grip upward to where her thumb could massage the slippery head.
I wanted to scream when she released me to shape two fingers and thumb over the knob, and frig it with a rapid stroking. Her digits were slick with my juice, and the sensation was so delightful that I almost shot my wad then and there.
She seemed to sense exactly how long I could stand the exquisite pleasure, and she stopped just before my threatening explosion. She squeezed the head, then smeared the slippery jism down the shaft, gripping it more firmly as she resumed the delightful up and down motion that carried her warm wet palm from the mid-point of my cock to the rearing tip.
Her cunt, sopping wet and so hot that it seemed to burn my hip, worked furiously against me, one quivering thigh sliding up and over my right leg to increase the mushy contact.
Her curled fingers pounded, faster and faster, squeezing and loosening about my prick until my ass was bouncing in helpless response. She moved her lips against mine, groaning the words into my mouth.
"Come for me, Brad! Come hard and hot!"
The soft cry triggered the release I had been looking for since that morning. Her mouth closed over mine, and her tongue wiggled between my teeth as if she were trying to reach my tonsils, and the caress ignited a fuse somewhere in my overloaded balls.
Ecstasy knotted my gut, and my ass slammed upward, bucking and hunching as the thick sperm lanced through my cock to spurt high and free, raining back onto my heaving belly in repeated splats.
Sherry's hand gripped and stroked in perfect harmony with the powerful contractions, milking my prick as the come surged upward, and sliding back between the explosive spurts.
The last two volleys were too weak to escape, and they seeped down to lubricate her eager grip. Waiting until my hips fell back onto the bed, Sherry spread the slippery cream down over my still shivering balls.
Cupping me with that warm wet hand, she pulled her lips free to kiss my eyelids, nip my nose, and brush her tongue across my panting mouth.
Quickly, before I could protest the move, she was out of bed, standing naked and lovely in the semi-darkness. I reached for her, but she ignored the gesture.
"Goodnight, Brad," she whispered. Like a shadow, and just as quietly, she slipped out of the room, leaving me to dip my tingling fingertips into the cooling puddles of semen on my belly.
The storm had passed, and a full moon was peeking through the ragged edges of the departing cloud mass. I threw a crooked grin at the closed door, and shut my eyes. A bath could wait. The wool wetness felt good. Perhaps it would make me dream.