Chapter 9

Before, even when Daddy fucked me, it took a few minutes for my entire body to respond. I mean, my cunt would begin sending out its sweet telegraph messages of good times coming, but it took time for them to get there. When I come, it feels as if I'm coming all over. Sure, the center of the action lies in the little tunnel that runs from my labia and nymphae up to the mouth of my womb and, through that, to the roof of that wonderful organ not many men can reach with their cocks. That feels indescribably wonderful when there's a good stiff prick in it, banging away toward an orgasm of its own.

But all around it, every nerve and muscle I own seems to take off as well. There's an incredible harmony that makes everything sing in tune. The contact with any part of my partner's flesh makes the touched part react powerfully and erogenously. Even the rub of the bedding on my backside can add to my joy in having a male perforate me. When I first reached that peak with Daddy and, later on, with brother Bill when he grew up, I thought I had attained the absolute acme of fucking perfection.

But, with Les's big, thick, long dong in my saturating twat, it was as if we were starting out where fucking Daddy and Bill stopped. I caught fire all over almost instantly, and if I missed the slow spread of voluptuous sensation that I had experienced when my father or brother fucked me, the instant ecstasy I felt in every pore of my convulsing body more than made up for this minor lack. From the moment Les planted his pole in my hole, I was conquered and occupied territory ...

... and loving it.

If the tip of his cock lacked Harry's mole on top, that mole that caused Joanie and me to feel at if a French tickler were fucking us, it had something else: a bend to the left I had not noticed while looking at, handling or sucking it during our brief period of foreplay. As he slid it in and then out of my sopping coozy, the right side of my tunnel seemed to cry out with unendurable delight.

Supporting his upper torso on his elbows, Les pushed his prick back inside me to the hilt, and I could feel the involuntary grip my labia took on its base, capturing some of the damp hairs around it. I tightened my cunt around it as hard as I could, letting him know how much I liked it right where it was, even as wave after wave of delight inundated me in a rising voluptuous flood.

He placed a gentle hand on either of my breasts and began kneading them deftly, causing my already erect pink nipples to strain at their moorings in my soft upper flesh. Running my hands up and down his muscular flanks, I could barely gasp, "Kiss them ... kiss them for me," as their aching became insupportable. He quickly got his lips and tongue into action, licking and lapping and sucking my titties to give me added secondary delights, while I dug my hands into the natural wave of his hair and guided his progress from boob to boob.

All the while, he was slowly undulating his pelvis, causing that wonderfully warped fucking piece of his to turn half circles in my lavishly creaming hole, half circles that caused me to dig my fingernails into his scalp and try to nip at his left ear and then his right as he turned from tit to tit.

Then he pulled his prick far back despite the desperate lunges of my cunt and tormented its suffusing emptiness with darting little feathery touches of its crown against my cuntal lips, slipping it just inside the muscle ring at my hole's entrance as if intending to drive it home, then pulling back and making me shudder with waves of frustration very close to agony.

"Oh, Jesus ..." I gasped. "Don't... Fuck me, Les ... fuck me all the way ... Fuck me till I die!"

His light blue eyes smiled down at me as he replied, "You're much to young to die, pretty Robin ... much too young!"

A strong arm encircled my left thigh and lifted it high and wide, putting a rein on my wildly rolling and bobbing cunt and checking me until, for a long moment, we were once more absolutely, screamingly still, with just the very top of his crown brushing my fevered labia. After taking a deep breath that made his body ripple, he rammed that big bent cock of his all the way home with such length and strength and impetus that I could actually feel the top of my womb give under the assault.

I could only cry, "Oh, my God ... I can't stand it!"

And then, as my bottom got into big motion once more, I discovered that I could stand it, in fact, I never wanted it to stop. I planted my feet with my knees wide apart and gave his cock a royal jazzing, meeting his onslaughts with my own and making our sopping pubes sock together like butting rams in heat. Then I locked my legs around his middle and dug my heels into his muscular rump and rode with him, moving my fucking piece in perfect unison with his, rolling with the punches as it were and simply letting my detonating body dig everything this delicious new lover had to give, then coming back for more.

When I felt the big throb of his impending climax, I parted my locked legs and bridged on the bedspread once more and met his final onslaught with a tremendous upthrust of my cunt ... swallowing whole, not only the entire mass of his meat but swallowing the beautiful hot burst of his sperm into my churning womb as well ... and feeling the world mist out in a delectable golden fog shot with radiant streaks like shooting stars.

When I recovered some measure of consciousness, he was still within me and we were lying on our sides with the bend in his still rigid prick upward, making me feel as if I had been hung out to dry on a line. Not that there was much chance of my ever drying out, not while that beautiful cock was nuzzling the soft sweetnesses of my innermost insides. It was like a puppy's wet nose in there, nuzzling me and causing me to respond with delicious wavelets of climax that were like echoes of the big, big one we had just torn off.

In an access of affection, I hugged his sweaty body with my own, rubbing my belly and boobs against his beautiful ridges of muscle, and our lips met for the first time. Somehow, this was right, for us. We had to know how our fucking pieces were going to get along before either of us could afford even to think of affection. But our union had been simply marvelous and there remained no reason for holding anything back.

One big difference I have discovered between being fucked by a boy and a man: when a boy shoots his wad into your hole, he's usually through for a while if not for the night. (I'm not counting brother Bill, naturally, because he had Daddy right there to show him how to keep a girl really riding the clouds).

And when a boy pulls his prick out the instant he's finished ejaculating, granted he's been in there long enough to get a girl really going, he leaves her right up the wall without a ladder to get down. I mean she's got to masturbate or lose her mind. And I don't think that's right. When a man sets out to make himself happy, he'd better see to it that his partner is happy, too. Otherwise, he might as well be poking his prick into a piece of dead meat or jerking off himself.

But a man--at least the two men who had fucked me thus far in my seventeen years: my father and this terrific airport stranger--handled things a lot differently. And a hell of a lot better. Even when Daddy was shot down, and this took a lot of doing, he didn't leave Joanie or me hung out to dry off alone. He knew how to diddle us and fondle us and kiss our coozies and keep the sweet sensations flowing, either until the letdown was gently complete or his revival indicated that it was time to fuck again.

If Daddy was great at this sort of after- or between-fucks play, Les was just the greatest. His prong, once he had eased its dripping length out of me, remained half erect and I refused to let it get any smaller, working on it with my fingers and then my mouth, sucking it clean of the sex-sap that covered it and replacing it with my own spit, enjoying its savor and reveling in the continued contact of flesh on and in flesh.

Les was not letting my convulsing cunt remain idle to dry up and die. Not for a moment. Handling me gently but with such strength that I knew I was like a baby to him, he placed my body on its side, giving my boobs and buttocks and crotch a delicious rubdown as he moved me so that I could suck his cock, he got us lying sideways and buried his handsome face in my cleft.

The instant his tongue touched my protruding pink clit, I convulsed as if I'd been goosed by a live wire. The organ he slid over its erectile round surface was as rough as a cat's tongue. It sent delicious thrills racing through me and got the whole semi-dormant cycle of orgasm rolling again.

He pulled out and said, "Not so soon, darling ... try to relax for a bit. We want to fool around a while before we go for another big one."

I nodded, with his cock in my mouth right down past my tonsils, and made my taut-singing body go limp. It wasn't easy, especially when he slid that rough tongue over my button again and held it there, moving it ever so slightly to keep the tingles flowing, but somehow I managed. Les was the sort of man a girl obeys without question. Somehow, she knows instantly that here is a pastmaster of the great game of sex, a man who has done it all and knows everything and has every technique for bringing a girl on at the tip of his prick.

It didn't get any easier to take it easy as he began moving his tongue around more actively ... if still at a slow-motion pace. But it was well worth the effort. Letting voluptuous delight have its way while you lie still until all control is gone is a lot like sucking a chocolate cream instead of biting into it at once: after a while, the goodies in the center come flooding through, and meanwhile, you've had the bonus of the chocolate's slow dissolve.

Even Harry, I quickly realized, was a novice compared to Les when it came to tonguing a girl where it counts. He diddled my clit in a score of ways, finally giving it a flick with the tip of his tongue that all but put me in orbit. Nor, even when he moved to my cunt itself, did he leave my button forlorn, but replaced his tongue with fingertips that were equally knowledgeable if lacking the roughness of surface that was sending me so terrifically.

He pushed my upper thighs wide open with his other hand as he moved further into my convulsing crotch, which had spread its flooding almost down to my knees along the insides of my upper legs. Then that cat-rough surface was sliding across the inner areas of my labia and nymphae. Once again, I stiffened uncontrollably, and once again, Les withdrew his tongue and murmured, "Steady, darling ... easy does it."

I nodded, causing the prick in my mouth to stiffen still further as it inched toward full erection and began rubbing the lower part of his thick shaft gently with my own fingers ... only to stiffen again as he slid that incredible tongue right past my nymphae into my suppurating hole. The resulting sensation was so galvanic that I actually bit my new lover's cock, but caught myself quickly and eased up before any damage was done ... rather, the reverse, as my involuntary aggression caused that gorgeous mass of well-starched meat to buck wildly within the compass of my cheeks and spurt its thick, sweet-sour sperm right into my gullet.

I had to pull clear since it made me cough and, when I could, I said, "I'm sorry, Les. I didn't mean ..."

Lifting his own handsome head briefly, he laughed silently and said, "Honey, what's done is done ... and that was lovely. But don't give up the ship."

He pushed his rough-covered tongue back into my cunt, deeper than before, and I came so convulsively, as that cat-like surface rolled around in there, tickling all sides of my flooding lower vagina, that I could not hold still enough to regain his cock until the climax had somewhat abated, leaving me calmed.

He pulled out then and lifted and rolled me onto my back again, and then he crossed the T under my quivering buttocks and, lifting my unresisting legs, put them over his middle, wide apart, while, lying on his side toward me, he pushed his still-stiff prick right up into my hot little hole. Thanks to that left turn halfway up his long thick dong, the effect was indescribably delicious ... for, instead of pressuring the right side of my upper tunnel, it ran right up against the top, and each time he pulled back before driving it home again, it placed underpressure on my quivering clit even more heavily, if over a wider area, than my father's mole on the tip of his prong. It didn't plow a narrow furrow but stretched the whole tunnel of lust in a single direction, almost as if it were trying to drive a hole through the roof.

Nor did Les neglect external pressure on my excruciating button. Laying the palm of his hand flat on my pussy, each time he brought that curved scimitar of a sex-organ back and then forward inside the mouth of my convulsing cunt, he pressed down hard on my clit with the heel of his hand, making that part of me feel like the ham in a pressed ham sandwich.

My legs shot straight up in the air, making a perfect V, and again he circled my left thigh with his right hand to control my hyper-active cunt. I grabbed the backs of my own stiff knees and held on, letting him do what he wanted to me as he slid that sweetly curved saber in and out of my creaming guts. There were times during that particular piece of arse when I thought I was literally dying of delight ... the whole world swam around me and a strange languor swept over me, but a languor with a core of intense feeling that informed me I was living, not dying.

Finally, however, I came out of it and knew I had to feel the flood of this wonderful stranger's semen in my core. So I put down my legs around his marvelously supple waist and lean Trips and, using my feet for leverage, put my suffusing sex-piece into high gear, driving it right down on that plunging prick each time he tried to pull back for another assault and pushing against it all the way while wriggling my cunt around like a marble caught in a spiral chute.

He came again, and I came right with him, and when it was over we were both temporarily shot down--even though our sopping wet fucking pieces were as tightly intersticed as those of the self-fucking oyster in a non-R month. I felt as if I, at any rate, were drowning in our combined juices and, once again, welcomed the prospect of such a death. Someone, Daddy I guess, had explained to me that fucking is very much like the whole life process. It has small beginnings, swells to active maturity, ultimately dwindles and dies.

But even after the three spendings with me, plus at least one more when the stewardess who had blow-jobbed him in the restaurant booth downstairs, Les's prick remained stiff and incredibly full in the morass of my cunt. We might be lying there yet if I hadn't happened to look at his wrist-watch as he lifted his hand to wipe some of the sweat from my dripping face.

Its hands said eleven-sixteen. We had been fucking a full ninety minutes and it seemed like less than fifteen. Never let anyone try to tell you that time isn't elastic, at least where sex is concerned. When you're fucking, it seems to go on forever, but when you've finished, you usually feel as if it had happened all too quickly ... until, if things have been really great, you look at the time and discover a whole day or night had elapsed.

It's the same with size ... or at least Daddy and Bill have told me it's that way for them, as it is for Joanie and me. But when you start coming, the whole universe seems filled with your cunt and the prick that's filling it ... vice versa for a man, naturally.

But time, not space, was concerning me then. I had about thirteen minutes to get cleaned up and into my clothes and back to the airport to meet Uncle Joe. All at once, I felt sick with guilt at having let the family down during the emergency of poor Mom's ordeal in Running Water--even with such a marvelous stranger as Les.

I pulled my cunt clear of his sopping cock and sat upright and grabbed his arm and looked at his watch again and said something like, "Jesus Christ... I've got to run."

Les wouldn't let me off the bed. He rolled over on his back and, plucking me up easily, lifted me in the air and lowered me right down on top of his big, beautiful prong. I tried to struggle, but, as that damnable curve ploughed up the right side of my cunny, I knew I was cooked. I couldn't have disengaged my newly flooding cunt from that fabulous whang if my life depended on it.

So I began fucking him again, in spite of myself, but I felt horrible about it, even though what I was doing made me feel more wonderful, in another way, than I had ever before felt in my life. Just looking down at that marvelously beautiful man, with that hooked codpiece impaling me, riding his loins like a rodeo bronco forker, set my blood to racing and my juices to flow ever more copiously.

But I also felt a lot like Benedict Arnold having a ball in London after selling out our Revolution. I mean, there was Mom, in jail in Running Water on that real nasty fucking charge, with Daddy and Joanie and brother Bill beating their brains out trying to get her clear of the mess; while here was I, after missing the first plane from Indianapolis, about to miss the second, thanks to balling in a Kernstown motel bedroom with a stranger I'd allowed to pick me up and screw me right away like any little tramp.

Even while my whole body was pulsing with tremendous spasms of sheer rapture thanks to the prodding Les's prodigious prick was providing in my pulsing guts, I couldn't stand it. I checked back the sobs by biting my lower lip, but my whole body was shaking with misery--a condition that also added to its delight--and I could feel tears running down my cheeks and cutting little liquid lanes in the sweat that already covered my face.

I felt the cannon-shot impact of Les's semen in my womb as he came again and, sacrificing my own feelings for once, tried again to lift my saturated vulva clear of the codpiece that had made a sweet shambles of it. Once again, this marvelous monster impaled me prevented me from disengaging.

Clamping strong hands on my thighs on either side of my sex-flooded crotch, he said, "What's all this about your having to go?"

I could only nod as sobs choked me and a small shift of that insatiable prick impaling me sent a sort of after-glow orgasm rocking through me.

His fingers touched my cheeks gently then, and he said, "My dear, I believe you're crying."

I nodded again, and he shifted his loins again and I spasmed again. As soon as I could, I said, "Please, Les darling ... let me go. I'm late already."

"Late?" he echoed. "Since the Pill, no girl has any business being late."

"It's not that," I gasped through clenched teeth, battling desperately for self-control as he continued to drive me half-crazy with little rolls and movements of the dong embedded in my guts.

"Then what?" he said, rolling his hips the other way and costing me the game. I spasmed all over him, and when I came down, I planted my cunt firmly against his loins and gripped his cock tightly with my inner-tube muscles to hold it still as long as I could.

Then, talking fast to get it all out before I lost control again, I said, "I'm here to meet my uncle, who's flying in from Indianapolis to help my mother and I was late but he missed the eight-thirty plane and I've got to pick him up and drive home to Riverville so he and Daddy can see about getting my mother out of jail in Running Water."

He lay there, listening and looking up at me, with an odd sort of expression on his handsome face. Then he said, "Robin, thanks to the wonders of modern science, there's more than one way of skinning a cat."

He picked up the phone and said to me, "What's your number, honey?"

I gave it to him; hell, I'd have given him anything, I still would, but I asked, "I don't see what good you ..."

He flapped a hand at me to be still and gave the motel operator the answer. Then, moments later, "Harry, this is Joe ... how's Edna?"

There was a long pause, after which Joe-Les said, "Yes, she's right here," and handed me the phone. It was the first time I ever conducted a telephone conversation with anyone while a prick was poked right up inside my cunt, but I told Daddy we were okay and would get back as soon as we could.

At that, Uncle Joe-Les grabbed the phone away from me and said, "Since there's nothing we can do till morning, Robin and I can stay here. She wants to have the Jeep looked at first."

He put the phone back in its cradle and looked up at me with his eyes crinkling and his cock still in me up to the hilt. Then he said, "I apologize for lying to Harry."

"You mean about the Jeep?" I asked. "That's not entirely a lie since I did blow a tire driving over here.".

"No, silly," he said, beginning to thrust his big hooked cock up into me as if he hoped it would pop out of my mouth. "I mean about there being nothing we can do till morning ..."