Chapter 2
My cunt was still a virgin, technically speaking, as I've already told you, when I started my freshman year at County High School in our county seat town, Medicine Hat, Wyoming. So when other girls were sharing stories about their sexual adventures, I just sat and listened and burned. Some of them had started sexual explorations while they'd been little kids in grade school. But not me! It takes help to have real sexual experience.
My prospects of getting any of that help in high school soon began looking just as nonexistent as they'd been at the little country grade school I'd attended. Other girls had gotten their first fuck in the school horsebarn, but never me.
My father was the reason. He'd been an old man when he married my mother, but there'd been nothing feeble about the reputation he carried as a dangerous man to cross. My mother'd died birthing me and fourteen more years had passed, but my father's reputation was just as impressive as ever. While I was in the seventh grade, he'd put a hay hand forty years younger than he was into the hospital, on the critical list for several days, even though the younger man outweighed Father by nearly one hundred pounds. And the rustlers he caught on his range never were lucky enough to just wind up in the hospital; they always went to the morgue.
Oh, I had plenty of dates after I got to high school. I don't mean to even imply that I was a wallflower, because I'm pretty, if I do say so myself. And I've been assured by many fellows that I'm a lot of fun to be around. All I'm saying is that all the fellows who took me out were always as proper in the way they treated me as if Father had been right there in the car with us.
That's the way things were when we got the first heavy snow of that fall. I'd been driving back and forth from home to school and back each day, nearly one hundred miles round trip. But as happens many times in Wyoming, that first storm of the season was a big one. The roads were closed before school ever let out.
Father phoned me at school; he'd made arrangements for me to room and board with the preacher's family on a regular basis until spring. I could drive back and forth from home whenever the weather permitted, but he'd arranged to pay Mrs. McKenna a flat rate, whether I stayed in the room and took my meals with her family or not.
I won't pretend Father's arrangement thrilled me. The McKennas were new in the community, but I knew their only son was a kid two years younger than I was. He was more than a head taller than I, but the difference in age put him in the shrimp class in my book.
However, Tommy McKenna turned out to be a pleasant surprise. Even though he was younger, when I got stuck on a math problem, I discovered Tom could show me how to solve it like it was simple arithmetic.
That mind of Tom's, plus the way he was built, made it easy for me to forget how much younger he was. Other things about him pleased me, too, like the way I'd catch him staring at my breasts sometimes when neither his father or mother were around. Before long there began being more and more times when I could completely forget there was any difference in our ages.
But nothing might have ever come of it if an unexpected storm hadn't marooned Tom's parents in Cheyenne one day. The weather had been so good I'd been driving back and forth from the ranch for several days, so I didn't know they were out of town. Before school let out, however, it was storming, and I knew Father wouldn't want me trying to make the drive to the ranch. So I drove to the parsonage instead. When I opened the garage door to put my car away, I had a premonition. The preacher's car was often gone when I got back from high school, but this time I suddenly knew something was different. A wild, thrilling surge of strange hope flashed through me.
Tom opened the door of the house to me. Obviously he had been waiting there, watching for me. He took the load of books out of my arms and stood holding them while I shook off the snow. His eyes seemed strangely bright, strangely full of yearning, strangely hopeful, strangely excited. He went to put my books on the kitchen table while I closed the door from the back porch. We turned back to each other at the same instant. That bright look of excitement in his eyes had grown even brighter.
I smiled and asked, "What's on your mind, Tom?" He liked it because I'd started calling him Tom instead of Tommy, like his mother and father and nearly everyone else did. It seemed to help him feel I'd come to accept him as more than just a little boy. His eyes thanked me every time I did it; they thanked me now.
Then he asked, "You're staying here tonight?"
That same strange thrill I'd felt in the garage flashed through me again. It left me feeling a little breathless. I said, "Of course. Why?"
"My parents may not be able to get back home, the way it's storming," Tom told me, obviously feeling that was exciting news. "They went to a church meeting in Cheyenne. We'll more than likely be here all alone together."
I said, "You could call one of the church ladies and ask her to come stay with us, if you'd like."
"What about you?" he demanded instantly.
"Is that what you'd rather for me to do?"
"I didn't say that."
He frowned, suddenly looking troubled. "That's exactly the kind of thing my mother may do, if the phone lines from Cheyenne are still up. I hope they aren't."
"Why don't you try to place a call to the hotel or wherever they planned to stay?" I suggested. "You'll soon find out that way."
Five minutes later Tom turned from the phone, a strange look of vast relief on his face. He murmured, in an imitation of an operator's voice, "I'm sorry, sir; all lines to Cheyenne are temporarily out of order."
We exchanged a knowing smile, as if we'd both planned this whole thing. In our imaginations perhaps we had.
Suddenly I realized I was still standing there in my heavy coat. I started to take it off and Tom came to me from the phone, moving very quickly, to help me with it. He was still only a kid, despite his size, but he had the manners of a real gentleman. That was one of the things I'd gotten to really like about him; the way he always treated me made me feel like someone really special.
I also knew, however, that because of that same genteel way of his, if anything exciting was ever to happen between us two, I'd have to be the aggressor. Suddenly I couldn't wait to start aggressing.
When Tom turned back to me from hanging my coat up in the kitchen closet, I smiled and wrinkled my nose at him as I murmured, "I've always envied married people when the weather's like this."
"What do you mean?" Tom asked, sounding breathless.
"It's so blamed cold, having to sleep alone on a night like tonight's going to be," I said in what I hoped was a sexy-sounding whisper. "Do you ever think about... that?"
Tom looked surprised. He swallowed hard. Then he nodded, looking self-conscious, and admitted, "Sometimes I don't seem able to think about anything else." He blushed and looked at the floor suddenly. Yes, he knew exactly what I'd meant.
I asked, "Do you like me, Tom?"
He swallowed hard again. He glanced up at me, instantly started to look away, then caught himself. With obvious effort he forced himself to look back directly at me as he told me, "Better than I've ever liked anyone else in my whole life before."
"You haven't minded, having to help me with my homework?" I persisted. "You don't sometimes think I'm too stupid to be exciting?"
"Lord, no!" Tom exclaimed in an explosive gasp. Then his eyes seemed to be drawn downward from my face to my full breasts, like steel being drawn to a magnet. I might have been only fourteen, but I had a pair of boobs that already had caused many grown women to give me secret looks of envy.
I raised my hands, cupping my breasts in them. Then I asked, "Do you like the way I look... here?"
Tom gulped. He seemed unable to speak. He nodded emphatically.
"Would you like to see me? Really see me... here?" I wiggled my breasts back and forth slightly. I felt my nipples start to pucker; they grew hard with excitement.
A low, sighing moan came from Tom. "Would I ever!" he murmured. "I lay awake nights wondering how you'd really look... naked." He blushed again and looked down at the floor, sounding almost desperate to get the words out as he added, "I'll bet all of you... is as beautiful... as your face and eyes and hair... and all."
"Would you like to see?"
Again he nodded emphatically, as if his throat felt paralyzed and mute.
I reached up under the pullover sweater I was wearing, hands behind my back, and unhooked my bra. Then I walked over to Tom. I put my back against his front, lifted his hands, and cupped them around my sweater-covered boobs. He found his voice and breathlessly murmured, "Oh, boy!"
I had a devilish impulse; I rubbed my ass back and forth, slowly, against his crotch. I could distinctly feel the rigid lump his hard penis was raising in the front of his pants. Another gasping, "Oh, boy!" came out of him.
I then took one of his hands and moved it under my sweater. Under my loose bra. When I cupped it around my naked breast, I felt Tom begin to tremble. Innocently I murmured, "Don't you like the way that feels?"
There was a strangled sound in it now as again Tom gasped, "Oh, boy!"
I let him stand there holding my naked boob for a moment. He was trembling harder the longer he held it. Finally I whispered, "What's wrong, sweetheart?"
Tom's lips were almost against my left ear.' His breath upon my ear was strangely exciting as he murmured tensely, "I feel like... I'm going to... explode... or something!"
I pressed my ass back into him harder. I began twisting my hips again, making my ass rub back and forth against Tom's hard cock. Suddenly a strangled cry came out of him. His arms and hands clutched me, pulling me against him even harder. His hips began a series of fast, hard, thrusting movements.
I was new to this game too, but I knew instantly what had happened; I'd teased poor Tom so much he was coming in his pants! Just the thought of what was happening to him sent a wave of passion roaring through me like nothing I'd ever felt before. It was the greatest feeling I'd ever experienced.
I was still so green about things sexual that I really didn't know exactly what I did have down there between my legs; whatever it was, I suddenly felt it begin drooling, a strange flow of hot juices oozing from it into my panties. My whole crotch area seemed to be burning up with a yearning, hungry kind of excitement. Now I started trembling, exactly like I'd felt Tom trembling.
As abruptly as he'd started it. Tom stopped thrusting against my ass; his arms and hands suddenly relaxed too. I turned, looking up into his face. He turned his face away, looking ashamed.
"What's wrong, darling?" I whispered. "Don't laugh at me, please, Trina," he muttered.
"Why on earth would I laugh? Didn't that feel good?"
"Oh, boy!" Tom exclaimed. "Did it ever!"
"Will you help me do it too?" I made my voice sound slightly pleading.
That brought Tom's eyes back to mine. He stared at me unbelievingly for an instant, then demanded, "What?"
"I want to do what you just did," I said eagerly. "Will you please help me?"
Obviously amazed, Tom demanded, "You don't think I acted like some dumb little kid?"
"I can't wait to do the same thing," I insisted. "Will you please help me?"
Suddenly Tom's whole face lit up with the biggest, most relieved smile I've ever seen. "Oh, boy!" he exclaimed.
I raised my sweater and my bra with it until my naked breasts were revealed to his bugging eyes. "Kiss and suck them for me, please?" I murmured. "I think that'll make me do it like you just did."
"Oh, boy!" Tom exclaimed explosively and licked his lips, obviously filled with a sudden, burning hunger. "Oh, boy!" he repeated, starting to sink into a crouch before me to bring his lips down to the level of my excited nipples.
But I had a sudden inspiration. "Let's go in on the sofa," I suggested and turned toward the swinging door to the front of the house. Mutely Tom followed as I led the way.
As we went to the front room, I glanced outside through the windows we passed; the snow was falling so heavily outside that visibility had been cut to a few feet beyond the windows. When we reached the front room, I found the two big trees near the front sidewalk were hardly visible; the street beyond them had disappeared, swallowed up in the white void of falling snow.
Now I'll make no pretense that I'd ever felt particularly wild about seeing a blizzard picking up momentum. I never had. Never before. But this was different. Now the sight of that worsening storm outside made me almost sing for joy. No one would be interrupting my explorations into the mysteries and wonders of sex. Because of that wonderful storm outside, all my dreaming and wondering about it, all my curiosity and frustration caused by it, was about to become part of the past. At long last I had my chance to find out what sex was all about.
Reaching the comfortable front room sofa, I turned to glance behind. Tom was following me eagerly. I said, "The storm seems to be getting worse. Aren't we lucky?"
"Do you really think so?" he asked breathlessly.
"What?" I asked in surprise.
"I thought you'd probably think I was terrible if you knew how long I've been wishing for something like this," Tom told me rather sheep- ishly.
I cupped my breasts in my hands again as I told him teasingly, "I think you're so terrible I'm going to smother you between these. Doesn't that frighten you?"
"Oh, boy! "Tom gulped.
I let myself slump down upon the sofa and held my arms up to him, wagging my fingers as I told him, "Come to me, lover man."
Tom fell to his knees on the floor just in front of the sofa, reached for both my breasts with his hands, then hesitated. "I still can't believe it," he murmured.
I pulled my sweater and bra up again and thrust my naked breasts out at him proudly as I whispered, "Feeling is believing. Believe it!"
"Oh, boy!" Tom said again in a strangled voice. Then his unsure but hungry hands cupped themselves around my breasts. I felt my nipples grow harder in response to his touch. My whole body seemed to suddenly be tingling. I felt very warm and very happy and breathlessly excited.
"Kiss them," I whispered, putting my hands on Tom's curly-haired head. "Suck them and love them and show them you really like them."
Tom's lips and throat moved, but no sound came. Suddenly he thrust his face forward, burying it between my breasts. Then his head turned slightly and I felt his feverish lips close hungrily upon my left nipple and suck it into his mouth greedily. A groan burst out of me as a flood of sensation like I'd never felt before roared through me. My fingers clutched his hair.
"Oh, boy!" I gasped. Now I was doing it too. Breathing raggedly I asked, "Can you do both of them together?"
Tom's gentle hands pressed my breasts close together, then his fantastic lips were drawing both my nipples into his hot mouth, his tongue licking between them and around them eagerly. I'd never felt anything like it before. It wasn't just twice as good as when he'd merely been caressing one nipple. The sensation was four times as intense, or more. My blood suddenly seemed like streams of fire rushing through my body. Tom's words flashed back through my mind, I feel like I'm going to explode... or something! That's exactly how I was feeling now. Like I was going to explode or die or something! It felt so good. But with it came an almost overwhelming need to feel him between my legs.
Abruptly I pushed Tom away. He stared at me, eyes wide with surprise and sudden fear, then gasped, "Did I hurt you?"
"Lay down on the floor!" I gasped, too filled with excitement and urgency to take any time explaining.
Tom flopped over on the floor and stretched out. Before his legs were straightened, I was astraddle him. I leaned over him, swinging my shoulders so that my nipples brushed back and forth across his lips. He raised his hands, caught my breasts between them, and sucked both nipples back into his hungry mouth. I groaned and thrust down against him, slamming my lower body against his, rubbing them together.
That did it! My body seemed to be on fire. A strange, delightful pressure was skyrocketing within my lower body. Then it burst! My senses reeled. I felt I was on the verge of blacking out. In the far distance, it seemed, I heard someone crying and moaning; then I abruptly realized it was me.
Finally the whirlwind of sensation quieted and slowly ebbed away, leaving me feeling weak and slightly disorientated. Faintly I heard Tom's voice asking anxiously, "Did you like that?"
I had to try three times before I could make the muscles of my throat respond properly to utter just one word, "Wonderful!" I was breathless, gasping.
"It really felt good?" he persisted.
I nodded wearily and repeated, "Wonderful!"
"The way you yelled, I got scared it was hurting," Tom declared.
"Wonderful!" I murmured again, then slumped forward on top of him and let myself roll loosely off him to the floor beside him. I lay there as limp as a sack of meal, struggling for breath like I'd been running.
After a few moments I suddenly felt Tom's uncertain hand touch me lightly on the bare skin of my inner thigh above my hose; I realized my skirt must be hiked up around my hips, but the wonderful thing was that it didn't matter. And another amazing and wonderful thing was that instead of being numb, after all the sensation I'd just enjoyed, I found the touch of his hand there felt surprisingly good. I knew if his hand caressed me there just a little it would begin building a fresh charge of that terrific excitement within me. I moaned softly.
That seemed to encourage Tom. His hand began rubbing the inside of my thigh slowly, moving slowly higher. Then his wonderful, searching fingertips touched my crotch, only the sheer material of my panties between his caressing fingers and my hot, wet flesh. I gasped, then let my sharply drawn breath sigh slowly out in a low moan.
"You're sopping wet," Tom declared in a surprised tone. "Do girls spurt stuff like guys do when they get older?"
"I don't know what girls or guys do," I whispered. "This is the first time I ever did anything like this."
"Me too," Tom said, "but I know when a guy gets just a little older than I am, he starts shooting stuff when he comes. Some of the older guys at school tell about having jacking-off contests... seeing which one can shoot stuff the farthest."
"You don't shoot stuff?" I asked, my breathing finally beginning to quiet.
"Not yet," Tom said. "But I think the feeling I get is just as neat as what older guys say they get."
All the time he had kept on gently petting my sensitive crotch. Sensation was really beginning to billow up again within me, and feverish excitement with it. I thrust upward with my hips against Tom's gentle hand, then sighed, "That's marvelous."
"What?"
"That you don't shoot stuff," I told him. "Why?" Tom wondered.
"We won't have to worry about you making me pregnant, silly."
"You mean you'll let me--" Tom broke off as if afraid to put his hope into words.
"Don't you want to?" I teased.
"Oh, boy!" Tom exclaimed, as if other words were beyond him just then. His now not so gentle hand was rubbing my crotch with almost frantic speed, as if it was something he had set into motion, then forgotten as the spell of a greater fascination seized him. But it felt good. I gave another upward thrust with my hips against his hand.
"I'm ready whenever you are," I told him.
"I'm ready!" Tom exclaimed instantly. He jerked his hand away from my crotch, grabbed the top of his trousers with one hand, the zipper of his fly with the other, and jerked the zipper down. The weary languor I'd felt only a moment before had vanished. I reached down, hooked my thumbs in the top of my panties, and skinned them downward over my hips and on off my legs. Then I fell back upon the rug, spread my legs invitingly wide, and closed my eyes, waiting expectantly while Tom got his pants and shorts off.