Chapter 3: Stephanie’s mom gets down and Tim fucks up.

By LiminallySpaced. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

A

little while back, on one of the warmer days that pop up in the early

spring, I had gone out for a run. I liked running. It was a great way to

clear my head of all the usual junk that weighs heavily on the mind of a

high school senior. It was also the only other method of stress relief

that worked besides jerking off, which on that day I had made a

conscious attempt not to do.

Running

didn't stop my mind from still casually wandering in a more

hormone-inspired direction, however. I thought about the color of lip

gloss Suzie Travino wore to school the other day, and how hot it was

that those same lips came so close to sucking on my friend Tara's cunt.

As straight-laced and book minded as they come, the thought that even

the class valedictorian was no match for Tara's dark eyes and oozing

sexuality was very arousing. It was even more arousing to wonder whether

Suzie's boyfriend Mike knew his girlfriend might be a "two sport

athlete."

Mostly,

though, my dirty mind wandered to Sarah, the gorgeous redhead who lived

next door, and who was the object of all of my strongest unrequited

affection. I had considered asking her to prom, but seeing as we hardly

knew each other, I assumed it was a long shot at best. Still, seeing her

in a form fitting prom dress, fiery hair done up, perfect breasts held

high by colorful fabric, flawless lipstick accenting her luminescent

smile, would be a highlight, whether she was there with me, or with

someone else. I thought about who that someone else might be, and

whether he might be lucky enough to see her prom dress bunched up on his

floor, or feel her perfectly painted lips slide up and down his cock.

Tired

and sweaty, I returned home to find my front door locked. I patted

myself down, but in my haste to get out the door, I had once again

forgotten my keys. Looking out to the street I saw that Sandy and Don's

car was parked in its usual spot, so I decided to make my way up to

their unit.

Knocking

once, there was no answer. I tried the handle, and found it was locked

as well. Normally I would have just found somewhere else to go, but my

legs were aching, I desperately needed a glass of water, and they had

given me an open invitation to their home, whether or not they were

there. That was enough justification for my sweaty, over-exerted brain,

so I grabbed the key under the mat and went in.

The

house was quiet. I knew Stephanie would be at work, and I assumed Sandy

and Don had taken their other car out together. The front door opened

into the kitchen, so I wandered toward the sink in search of water.

Grabbing a pint glass, I held it under the faucet, my hand on the knob,

but just before I turned it, my ears perked up as a long moan floated

down the hallway. A deep moan. A man's moan. I froze.

Another deep moan, longer this time.

Glass

still in hand, I moved silent toward the doorway that led to the hall,

and paused. Another moan, punctuated with a long, drawn out "Fuck,"

followed closely by a smokey, feminine voice asking "yeah, does that

feel good?"

That was definitely Sandy's voice.

I

could have left. I SHOULD have left. I should have quietly left them to

their privacy and waited outside for Kelly to come home and let me in.

That's what a rational mind would do. I, however, was not thinking

rationally. Between my post-run exhaustion and the growing tightness in

my shorts, my voyeuristic, animal brain took over, and I slowly, quietly

started my way down the hallway toward the sound, cock first.

The

moans continued as I moved silently through the darkened hallway, my

body vibrating at the forbidden thrill of what I was doing. Sandy's

encouraging dirty talk continued guiding me toward the living room

entryway.

"Umm

yeah, you like that, don't you?" she cooed. A long masculine moan

answered. My gaze rounded the slight corner of the entryway, falling

into the living room. I stopped dead in my tracks. My awkward angle

caused the majority of the scene to be obscured, but what I could see

were bare legs, a man's legs, splayed out from the edge of a comfortable

easy chair.

Between those legs knelt Sandy.

Her

blonde hair done up in a messy bun that reminded me of Stephanie, Sandy

knelt on a pillow, wearing nothing but a black G-string. Her hands were

slowly running up and down the considerable length of a thick, hard

cock. Glistening and wet, she treated this cock like it was a work of

art, cooing as her hands explored every ridge and bump, periodically

encouraging a sudden throb followed by a pleasurable grunt. As the work

of her gliding hands drew out another deep, prolonged moan of pleasure, a

big, warm smile formed on her lips. The same big, warm smile I had seen

countless times at neighborhood cookouts, or hanging out in the kitchen

with my step mom Kelly. Her lips formed that smile, and then opened

wide as she lowered her head, taking the bulbous tip of the glistening

cock into her mouth. He gasped. She moaned.

Eyes

closed as she savored the feeling of this big, thick piece of meat in

her mouth, her head started to bob up and down in time with her stroking

hands. They moved slowly, as one, twisting and sucking, accenting the

pattern with a slight slurping sound whenever she reached the tip.

Masculine moans mixed with the higher-pitched moans of her equal

pleasure. It was quite clear that Sandy, the friendly housewife,

genuinely loved to suck cock. My own cock was hard and desperate for

release as it throbbed against the confines of my tight athletic shorts.

Her

mouth came off the end of his cock with a pop, and she smiled at him

while still stroking. Then, removing her hands, she squeezed both of his

big balls gently, and took the entire length of cock right down her

throat. I almost audibly gasped, but I stopped myself. My hand drifted

down and squeezed my full balls.

A

loud masculine moan, and a long "Fuck me!" followed as she slid back up

to the tip, rolling her tongue around the head, then sinking the big

cock all the way down her throat a second, third, fourth, fifth time.

This

was an intensely intimate experience between two adults. I knew I did

not belong there, but I was completely entranced. Of course Sandy was a

sexual person, she and Don had a very flirtatious relationship full of

ass pinches and P D A, but my whole being was transfixed by the

knowledge that this sweet woman could deepthroat a cock like a pro. I

should have left, but instead I stayed, and continued rubbing my hard

dick through my shorts.

In

my time as a horned-up virgin, I had spent many, many hours

masturbating, becoming fluent in all manner of pornography. As anyone

does, I developed my own fetishes and preferences for the kinds of acts

and images that really got me going. After discovering a love for large,

natural breasts and oral sex videos, I surprised myself the night an

extra intense orgasm revealed to me an intense preference for cumshots

and facials. The one act that was an absolute favorite of mine, however,

was one that combined all of my fairly vanilla fetishes into one: when a

woman would wrap her luscious breasts around a hard, wet cock, and fuck

it with her tight cleavage until the inevitable white eruption.

This

is why I didn't leave. Because after a final, long sheathing with her

throat that left that large cock coated in thick saliva still stringing

to her lip, Sandy rose up higher, leaned in, and with a broad, lusty

smile squeezed her buoyant tits around that cock, and started to slowly

slide them up and down. This is why, watching my upstairs neighbor, the

organizer of the soccer team bake sale, fuck this long, throbbing cock

between her heavy mature tits, I reached into my pants, released my own

cock, and started stroking along in time.

Sandy

was moaning with every hot stroke. A smile on her face, she kept eye

contact with her obscured partner as her body writhed up and down,

milking this cock closer and closer toward orgasm. She cooed when the

fat, straining head would peek out through her cleavage on the down

stroke, and occasionally she would dip her tongue down and lick it,

smiling that lusty smile every time. Don was a lucky man.

The

masculine moans were getting longer and louder. Those legs she knelt

between started to twitch and stretch. Sandy picked up her pace. So did

I. I was awash with forbidden eroticism, not only in what I was

witnessing, but in the danger inherent in what I was doing. I should

stop. Now.

All reason left my mind as they reached a fever pitch, both breaths growing rabid and wanton. He was close. So was I.

It

was then that he suddenly pushed Sandy back and stood up, his cock

proud and dominant, reaching toward her gasping face. She sank back on

her heels and looked up at him. I followed her eyes up, and internally

gasped myself as I saw the face of the man standing over her, a man who

was most definitely not her husband Don!

With

one of her hands caressing his swollen balls while the other milked his

straining cock, Sandy tipped her head back. She started furiously

stroking, and the mystery man began grunting and shaking, all the while

Sandy whispered erotic words of encouragement.

"That's it, cum for me,” My pace increased, my heart a jackhammer in my chest and in my cock.

“

give it to me, give me your load,” The man reached his boiling point,

and put his free hand on the side of her head to steady himself. The

hand on his cock was a blur, and a long, drawn out moan snaked out of

his throat just as Sandy gave one final instruction: "Cum for me."

Eyes

still locked onto his, she opened her mouth wide as the first jet of

hot love careened out of his pulsing cockhead, drawing a long, white

slash from her chin to her hairline.

Her

open mouth smiled and she squealed in excitement as two, three, four,

five, thick ropes of cum splattered recklessly into her mouth and onto

her lips and chin.

Remembering

the pint glass in my hand, I quickly placed it over the head of my

screaming prick as the sight of Sandy dripping in cum triggered my own

orgasm. Pleasure surged through me as I painted the inside of the glass,

desperately trying to stay silent as I throbbed through one of the most

intense orgasms of my life.

I

looked back at the semen-splattered Sandy, thick strands dripping off

her chin onto the swell of her fantastic breasts. She closed her

cum-filled mouth, and I saw her throat pulse as she swallowed. She then

took his still spasming cock into her mouth and lovingly sucked him

clean as his breathing began its trek back to normalcy.

I

too was coming down, and in a haze I took one final look at this

gorgeous, love-stained creature, so satisfied with a job well done.

I froze as I heard a third voice.

"Oh

my God, baby, that was so fucking hot" bellowed out from a place in the

room I couldn't see. Then, stepping into my eye line was Don, her

husband! He was just as naked as the others, his own generously-sized

cock fresh and erect. In his hands was a video camera.

He

took his time recording the scene, stroking himself slowly, with Sandy

making sure to show off her glistening face and assets for his lens.

Then he passed off filming duties to the mystery man and placed his

hands lovingly on her head. Her hands ran up and down his legs, electric

with lust, and they both moaned as he slid his cock between her

still-cum-covered lips and began slowly thrusting.

In

an abrupt moment of post-nut clarity, I realized I needed to get out of

there now. Quietly, but quickly, I shuffled my way back down the

hallway, through the kitchen, and out the front door, making sure it was

locked as I left. Hustling my way outside I took a moment to reflect on

what I had just seen. Not only was Stephanie’s mom Sandy, the

unassuming housewife, a skilled and passionate cocksucker and a total

fiend for cum, but she and her husband Don seemed to be extremely open

with their sex life, including a third person, as well as recording

highly explicit pornographic video of the event.

I

shouldn't know this. No one should know this. I wanted to see those

videos. What other depraved things did Don and Sandy get up to behind

closed doors? No, it wasn't my business. It was no one's business!

I looked down at the pint glass still in my hand, the bottom third frosted with the pearly memories of what I had witnessed.

My cock twitched.

That

first study session with Stephanie was tough. The subject wasn't the

problem, that was no sweat, it was just that I was having a hard time

focusing. We were sitting in the very living room where I watched her

mom throat some stranger's huge cock, and every time she smiled or

addressed me, all I could picture was her on her knees, huge tits out,

her smiling face drenched in jizz. It was distracting, to say the least.

Citing

my allergy to cats as an excuse, I asked if there was another room we

might be able to work in. After a short thought, Stephanie smiled wryly

and said "follow me. But don't get any ideas."

We entered her bedroom.

Her

room was decorated in the usual contradictions of a college-aged girl

living in the home she grew up in. Philosophy text book here, old teeny

bopper magazine there, etc. I scanned the room, my eyes landing on her

bed right as Stephanie quickly shut the drawer of the bedside table.

That

bed. Sheets unmade and wild, I imagined her kicking them into a frenzy

as her legs flailed from one of the many orgasms I've heard slip down

through the cracks in her floor and into my bedroom down below. And what

was in that drawer that she needed to shut so quickly?

"Trying to hide your vibrator?" I said, seeing an opening to strike and taking it.

She snorted a bit incredulously, but I swore I saw some color rush into her cheeks. "You wish, perv," she said, finally.

Though

her bedroom provided its own unique set of distractions we managed to

get work done. We worked well together, and it began a trend where three

times a week we'd meet in her room to study. The more time we spent

together, the more her guard came down, and we actually got to know each

other as people. Our sessions seemed to get longer, with more and more

time spent just hanging out together.

Don't

get me wrong, every now and then, when Stephanie was getting bored with

the material, she'd drop a bra strap, or reach over to get something in

a way that made her perfect, athletic ass rise like Kilimanjaro over

the Serengeti just to fuck with me, but generally we had a good time.

Dare I say we were becoming friends.

In

the following weeks, Tara continued her words of caution, and almost

shit her pants when I told her why I was so distracted that first time.

She was very interested in the details, especially those of Don's cock,

and was effusive in her appreciation for Sandy's sexual confidence. I

knew it was turning her on, and I knew she'd be enjoying that

one-two-three, one-two-three vibration pattern later that night while

thinking about it.

Rachel

and I still talked, but I'd be lying if I said I was thinking about her

that often. I knew her prom was coming up, occurring a few weeks before

my prom, and honestly I was dreading it. Despite the thought of seeing

those massive mammaries of hers in a slinky prom dress, I wasn't

expecting to have much fun at a prom where I would know exactly zero

other people. I thought about that same feeling for Stephanie as my prom

date, and just hoped that our new found friendship would be enough to

help her enjoy the night.

As

time passed, I started to feel bad about our arrangement. It was a

request made as a power play, and now that I had gotten to know her I

felt bad that I was exploiting her. At the same time, however, I was

desperate to see her lithe, tanned body move hypnotically on the dance

floor, to put my hands on her hips as we slow danced. I felt bad, but

these thoughts of Stephanie still occupied my fantasies as I stroked

myself off at night, especially the nights when I'd get home from a

study session, only to hear those moans, and that short-short-long cry

of release trickle down into my room as the night grew longer. What can I

say: I was a teenage boy; full of hormonal contradictions.

Our

final study session arrived, and we both knew Stephanie was ready. Her

test was that coming Friday, the same day as Rachel's prom, and so after

our final run through of the material, we decided to have a bit of a

celebration. Her parents were gone for the evening, so out came the

glasses, and along with it the booze. We were nice and relaxed, sitting

on opposite ends of the living room couch, and as we got comfortably

buzzed, our conversation began to get more revealing. The booze had put

me in a mood, and she got a good chuckle listening to me moan about

having to go to Rachel's prom.

"You

know, I don't get you, TImmy," She remarked, stretching out her long

legs towards me on the couch. She was wearing those loose-fitting short

shorts, and they bunched up around her crotch, so I could see every inch

of those drool-worthy stems. The way they gleamed in the light implied

they were freshly shaved and moisturized. They were a work of art.

"Oh?" I asked.

"Yeah,"

she said, wiggling the toes on her sock-covered feet, "you've got a

date; you've got Two dates; and you're still acting like you're the last

single person on the planet."

"Yeah

two dates; single-evening dates; one with a church girl I'm not even

really interested in, and the other is basically a joke. It's not

exactly like my love life is on fire,” I trailed off.

Stephanie took a drink, her eyes lingering on her glass momentarily.

"What about that girl Tara?" she asked, her eyes flicking back up at me intently.

"What about her?"

"Have you guys ever hooked up?" Her legs shifted together slightly as she asked.

The

image of my spent cock in my hand, and a dash of my cum dripping on

Tara's perfect breast flashed before my eyes. I swallowed hard, and

answered "No."

Stephanie seemed to relax a bit as she said "that's too bad; she's a hottie."

"She's

one of my best friends. Plus, she's got plenty of better people than me

to choose from." I took a big gulp from my drink, which was already

making me quite warm inside. "I'm just really bad at all that stuff. My

virginity is destined to remain intact for a long time."

Stephanie snickered.

Oh

fuck, what did I just say? Goddamnit I just gave Stephanie some epic

ammo. I winced, waiting for her to deliver a scud missile of tease and

torment. I waited, but all that came was a long silence. She had the

upper hand and didn't take it. Seizing this rare moment, I changed the

subject.

"What about you?" I asked. One long leg bent up toward her stomach, almost in defense.

"What ABOUT me?"

"Are you seeing anyone? I've never seen you with a guy around here or anything, "

Stephanie chortled in laughter, "Oh God. I would never bring anybody here in a million years. Not with My parents around, "

"No?"

"No way," she shook her head, laughing, "they seem pretty cool and casual, but they're really uptight when it comes to sex."

The

image of Stephanie’s mom Sandy sucking her husband's dick on camera

while dripping with another man's cum flashed in my mind. My dick

twitched.

"Oh yeah?"

Stephanie sat up now and leaned toward me, getting into it, one foot tucked under her ass, another down on the floor.

"Yeah,

the One time I brought someone over, they FREAKED out!" she said,

taking a big sip, "I got out of work early and had the house to myself,

so we were making out on the couch, and then my parents came busting in

and Lose it. They made this big scene in front of these friends from

church or whatever that came to hang out, "

Yeah, hang out,

“

and so from then on I said never again." She shook her head, taking

another sip, "I don't tell them anything, and they don't ask. They

probably still think I'm a virgin, too."

My cock twitched again.

I

was at an important crossroad. The next thing I said would hold a lot

of weight, and determine very distinctly which direction the

conversation would go in. I could hit the ejector button, change the

subject, and continue happily on my way, or I could listen to the booze

in my brain, and the churn in my balls.

"So you're not, then?" I said as my stupid balls won out.

Stephanie stared at me, cocking a single eyebrow. There was a long pause, and then a languid “ not what?"

Balls still in control, I doubled down. "Not a virgin."

There

was another long pause. I thought about all the names Stephanie was

about to call me, about all the good will and budding friendship I had

just launched out the window. I was a perv, and she was going to let me

know it. A smirk slowly formed on her lips. This was it!

She

leaned back again, long legs stacked on top of each other in a relaxed

state. She was reveling in the hammer she was about to drop on ol' Timmy

the Perv!

"No, I'm not." was all she said. The ball was in her court, and she just bounced it back to me.

My

cock flexed as the image of those long, golden legs wrapped around some

lucky guy as he slipped his cock in and out of her wet cunt struck like

a lightning bolt across my brain.

My balls still in control, I pressed on. “ when did you lose it?"

The

question didn't phase her in the least. She had a more inquisitive look

on her face now; she was ready to play this game. And boy did she know

how to play.

"Which one?" She asked. I froze. I didn't know how to react to that one. "Guy or girl?"

The

question of virginity immediately left my mind. There were more

interesting subjects on the table, now, subjects that almost caused my

internal spank bank matrix to explode.

"You're into girls too?" I managed to sputter out.

"Sure," she said, taking another drink, "I've probably hooked up with more girls than guys, actually."

"Really?" I shifted in my seat to try and hide the iron bar in my pants. "Like who?"

"I

can't believe I'm telling you this,” The question caused her to blush

ever so slightly as she weighed giving me the details. In that moment

she wasn't my step sister's friend, the older girl who liked to torment

me, she was just an excited, horny kid. Just like me. It was strangely

endearing.

Finally, she took a big pull on her drink and told me a story that would live in my imagination for the rest of my life.

"So you know that redhead that lives next door? Sarah?"

"Uh-huh"

I choked. I knew Sarah, of course I knew Sarah. Sarah was the

fire-haired object of my unrequited lust, the mysterious literal girl

next door who I regularly fantasized about making passionate love to.

"She and I had a bit of a thing last summer," she said with a cheeky smile.

It

was a strange feeling, hearing that revelation, and my body was

overcome with a barrage of simultaneous emotions. On the one hand, I was

surprised. Still processing Stephanie’s sapphic admission, and had no

idea that it would hit so close to home. On the other hand, I was kind

of angry. It was the kind of ridiculous anger that only a hormonal

teenager can bear unironically, the anger of a guy who felt a misplaced

sense of ownership over the fictionalized sex life of a girl he's never

talked to. Overall though, I felt a level of horniness that was making

me sweat. My back was cold, my cock was hard, and above all else, I

desperately needed to hear the rest of this story.

"Oh yeah? How'd that happen?" I fluttered, hoping against hope that Stephanie was too drunk to notice how turned on I was.

"She

and I would get home from work around the same time every day, so we

just started chatting regularly. She's just this super nice, quiet girl,

so I didn't think much of it, but then,” she paused, remembering

fondly, “ we ran into each other at a party over at The Spot."

The

Spot was the all-purpose hang out for the older teens looking to cut

loose out of the prying eyes of their parents. Equal parts hook up place

and bonfire party location, many beers and bodily fluids had been spilt

there over the years.

I had never been there.

"We

got to talking, and there was a definite vibe. I thought she was dating

some guy in my year, but it didn't seem to matter. We eventually

wandered off past the tree line,” she trailed off.

“ And?" My stupid, stupid balls made me say.

I don't know if it was the booze, or if she was as turned on as me, but something made her continue.

"We

went over to the clearing by the big old tree, and started making out,"

she chuckled, and absentmindedly ran her hand over the inside of one of

her thick, perfect thighs.

"She

was getting so hot, breathing heavy and writhing around, and I just

couldn't help it; I slid my hand down her body, and under the waistband

of her jean short shorts.

"I stopped, and she looked at me, with those big green eyes, and just, nodded."

Stephanie

had a far-away look in her eyes. Her legs started to shift. I could see

her hard nipples through the fabric of her shirt.

"She

had a big sweatshirt on, so I couldn't get at her tits, but it didn't

matter. I had my hand down her pants, and, God, she was soaking wet, I

just rubbed her cunt while we made out.

"Her

breath was heavy, and she just kept saying 'yes, yes, yes' and then she

grabbed my wrist, and I felt her cunt squeeze my fingers. She came So

hard."

I don't think I had drawn a single breath in minutes.

"You

know, it's funny," she continued, "I thought maybe it was her first

time or something, but then,” the pause was murder. “ then she pushed me

over, practically tore my shorts off, and dove tongue first between my

legs!" she said, laughing hysterically.

"Oh my God." I managed to squeak out

"Yeah

I know," she chuckled, "she was good, too. So yeah, from then on every

now and then I would sneak over to her place and we would fuck in her

bedroom."

They

would fuck in Sarah's bedroom; the bedroom I could see into from my

bathroom window. My drunken mind immediately transported me to my

bathroom, fantasizing watching through the blinds as this girl I had

known for years, my step-sister's best friend, rode the gorgeous face of

my most intense crush, a face I had dreamed of painting white with cum

many times myself. I couldn't feel my fingers.

"It's

a good thing we went over to her place, too, because her house was

usually empty and I am, not quiet." she said with an embarrassed

chuckle.

So

let's take a second here, At that moment, I was drunk in my

step-sister's best friend's living room, a living room that I watched

her mom give a weapons' grade blow job in, by the way, and she had just

finished telling me the story about how she had been fucking the girl of

my dreams in a bedroom I could see from my bathroom window. My cock was

so hard I didn't even know what universe I was in.

Which

is why I need a little bit of understanding when, in my severely

chemically altered state, I said the absolute worst possible thing

imaginable. Three words that would put my face forever in the dictionary

next to "dumbass."

I chuckled along with Stephanie, and said "Yeah, I know."

Stephanie’s face turned to a puzzled scrunch. A long pause followed.

"What do you mean 'you know'?"

In

denial of the sudden mood change, I thought we were still in honesty

mode. Or at least that's what my dumbass rationalized as I leaned on the

truth to set me free. "I can hear you; sound travels pretty easily

through the floorboards and into my room," I chuckled before hanging

myself, “ I can hear you when you, "

Suddenly the room was ice cold. Stephanie’s smokey glare turned to piercing daggers.

I

immediately knew what I had done. Afterward I would try to rationalize

it, to convince myself she was overreacting, but I knew the truth:

everything before this point had been intimate and private, sure, but it

was information she CHOSE to share with me. What I had just revealed

was a violation; a moment meant for only her that was now ruined by the

knowledge that her intimate pleasure was now an unwilling performance.

"Get out."

I pause, speechless, not knowing what to do.

"Stephanie, I; "

"Get

the fuck out!" she asserted forcefully. I got the message that time. I

gathered my things in an embarrassed, drunken stupor, and hustled my way

out of her apartment.

My cock shriveled.

Chapter 4: Rachel's prom brings new experiences for Tim.

"Do you want me to teach you how to eat cunt?"

The

shocking words hardly registered in my brain as I slumped against the

couch in Tara's basement. She was trying to cheer me up after I told her

about how thoroughly I had botched things with Stephanie.

"What for?" I murmured

"Well

you may have royally fucked up with Stephanie, but you've still got

Rachel's prom to go to tomorrow, and you're gonna wanna be prepared if

you get called in off the bench!" She exclaimed. My eyes limply shifted

over to her spot on the floor.

"What makes you think I don't know how to eat cunt?" I inquired.

"Truth or dare,"

"Truth"

"Have you ever eaten cunt?"

“ no."

"Well there you go," she remarked, an "I told you so" look on her face.

I

thought about what this lesson might entail; maybe Tara, legs spread

and bottomless, fingers parting her lips to show me the pearl of her

clit and how to massage it with my tongue; maybe pressing her fingers up

inside her cunt in search of her G-spot. Maybe she'd even invite me to

try.

All of these lewd thoughts about one of my best friends passed through my mind, and my cock barely moved.

My fuck up with Stephanie had affected me greatly.

We

hadn't spoken in the days since the incident, and not a single sound,

sexual or otherwise, had filtered its way down through the floorboards

of her room above into my room below. I had made an ass out of myself,

and more importantly I had hurt her. I had hurt Stephanie, a former

tormentor who now I dare say I considered a friend. But now, I didn't

know where we stood, and I certainly didn't know what it meant for me in

terms of having a date for my own prom.

The one thing I did know is that for the first time in years, I went multiple days without masturbating.

Digital

messages with Rachel did nothing for me. They had mostly been logistics

for Friday, the day I would accompany this chaste choir girl to her

school's prom. It was an agreement I made in the moments after orgasm

that I had come to dread, and though I would never back out, any

reminder of the impending evening did nothing for my libido, especially

under the current circumstances. Even in the moments she attempted to be

flirty, I barely engaged. What was the point?

In

my room, in the moments where I would usually be rock hard, stroking it

to the angelic sounds of Stephanie’s cresting orgasm, it was just

quiet. A heavy quiet that did nothing to arouse, and everything to

remind me of how violated she had felt.

Tara did her best to cheer me up.

"Listen, Miller, it sucks, I know, but you fucked up."

She wasn't doing a great job.

"You remember what I told you in the car that time?" She said, eyebrows raised.

Tara

had told me there was more to Stephanie than it seemed; that she might

actually be into me; but I never believed it. Even so, any affection

that had been there had to be long gone now. I nodded.

"Well you may have hurt her more than you actually realize," she said, a slight lilt of sadness to her voice.

Sensing the dour shift in tone, she quickly livened things back up.

"I

mean don't get me wrong, I know it was super hot to jerk off to her

moans coming through the floor; I mean, shit, I've even thought about it

myself once or twice to get my vibrator to hit the right spot, but you

can't Tell her that!"

I

thought momentarily about Tara riding her vibrator, the one with the

one-two-three, one-two-three buzzing pattern she liked. My cock didn't

move.

Something

about her phrasing though; was she saying she would touch herself while

thinking about hearing Stephanie’s moans through the floor? Or while

thinking about Me, jerking off while hearing Stephanie’s moans through

the floor? In the moment the thought was fleeting, but I would run it

over in my mind again later.

"So what's this mean for Our prom," she asked after a long pause, "do you still have a date?"

"Honestly, I've got no fucking clue, Tara, but signs definitely point to no."

My

eyes drifted down to the floor as a heaping helping of teenage shame

and self loathing set in. "She only was going as a goof anyway, she

didn't actually want to be there."

"Oh,

Jesus, cry me a river," Tara said, popping me one in the shoulder.

"I'll tell you what: why don't you forget about it, and you and me can

go together?" she suggested, an uncharacteristic brightness in her

voice.

"Us go together?" This idea got my attention. "But what about Chris?"

It

got my attention because it was a very odd suggestion. Tara had gotten a

date for the prom very, very quickly. She had a dark sexiness to her

that was catnip to the young and horny, regardless of gender. She pretty

much had her the choice of anyone she wanted, and she chose to accept

the invitation of Chris Nivens, the star of the drama club. Legitimately

talented, he was the star of every production our school put on, and

had the cocky attitude to go with it. He was always shitty to me, and I

didn't like him. I tried to be civil about it for Tara's sake though.

Tara

wasn't a drama student herself, but she definitely had a drama student

aesthetic, and loved the parties they would throw. It had been told that

she and Chris had been seen at said parties making out in the corner on

more than one occasion, and word had spread that one time Chris had

been fingering her right out in the open in front of everyone. Unfazed

by another rumor about her, she assured me that even though it sounded

"hot as fuck," it was definitely not true.

I

believed her, but I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about that

image here and there, cock in hand. Of Tara perched up on an end table

in a dark corner of a dimly lit room, Chris' hand tucked deep between

her spread legs as they kissed, fingers thrusting in and out of her

sopping-wet center while a room full of others mingled and danced

nearby. Would she cum? Would the music be loud enough to hide her cries

if she did?

All

of these thoughts had coaxed more than one messy load out of my balls,

but at this moment it was all quiet on the western front in my pants.

Tara

got up and went over to the mini fridge to grab another soda. Her thin,

high-waisted pants held tight around her curves as she moved, the legs

flaring out down by her feet, flapping loosely with each step. The

mention of Chris seemed to trigger something.

"Change of plans," she finally said flatly, her back to me.

She didn't tell me then, and I didn't press the issue, but later I'd find out exactly what that change of plans entailed.

Tara

had hung around the school auditorium one night, waiting for play

rehearsals to end. She had told me of her plan previously, as it was her

intention to make sure she and Chris had some alone time up in the

"Juliet's Balcony" stage set.

While

on her knees, topless, sucking his dick, he had started to get very

aggressive, grabbing her hair, fucking her face, calling her a "good

slut" and a "dirty whore."

Now

Tara never met a kink she didn't like, but there was an anger behind

his actions, and a lack of control on her part that made her start to

panic. She pushed him off her, and tried to calm him down.

He

then backed her to the edge of the balcony, pulling her skirt up, and

called her a slut again as he tried to force himself on her.

One

solid elbow across the nose from Tara later, Chris was off her, and she

was out of there. The following day she overheard someone talking about

how "Chris fucked Tara in the balcony set."

"Just another thing people say about me behind my back," she would say, dismissively.

I had always wondered why Chris' nose was too broken for him to perform in the play. He was a piece of shit.

When

the prospect of prom had initially rolled around, I had deeply wanted

Tara to be my date. I really hated that Chris had snapped her up, so

this new opportunity seemed like one I should jump on. I agreed it was a

great plan. She smiled a big, beaming smile. My eyes glanced down, and I

could have sworn I saw the cast shadow of hard nipples through her lacy

red top.

It must have been the cold air from the mini fridge.

Even

though my mind was still on my blunder with Stephanie, my anticipation

of the prom was reinvigorated by this new development with Tara. It was

going to be fun, that was guaranteed, but first I had to make it through

the other prom, Rachel's prom, which now loomed more like a chore than a

fun outing.

I

should have been thinking about having a fun time with some new people,

but all I could think about as I got ready was Stephanie. Today was the

day of her big test, and I had no idea how she fared on it. As I walked

out to my car, done up fine in my rented tux, I paused, and looked up

at the second floor windows of her unit. I was hoping to see any sign of

life, but still curtains were all I saw.

I fumbled for my keys, reliving again the events of that evening when a voice came from behind me.

"Oooh,

fancy - where you off to tonight?" It wasn't a voice I immediately

recognized. Turning, I saw pale legs stemming from rust-colored shorts,

the swell of an ample bosom under a fashionable jacket, emerald green

eyes, and a mane of flowing red hair. It was Sarah, the girl next door.

The one whose room I could see into from my bathroom window. The one I

intensely lusted after. The one Stephanie used to fuck.

"I'm going to a prom for a school a couple towns over," I offered back in a friendly manner.

"Ooh,

two proms huh?" she joked back. She was carrying a bag of groceries

that she shifted to her other hip as she reached for her house keys.

"You're a man in demand, I see, "

She

bounced her eyebrows at me in a suggestive manner before hitting me

again with a flawless smile. Rachel's prom was a million miles away now

as I laughed, and frantically searched for a way to extend the

conversation.

"What're you up tonight?" I finally blurted out.

"Not

much," she said casually, "just having a friend over to hang. She had

this big test thing today, so we're just gonna chill and decompress a

bit."

My eyebrows went up slightly at this knowledge, but inside I was screaming. She obviously meant Stephanie.

"That's

cool," I managed to get out. I cleared my throat a bit and decided it

was time to leave; I desperately needed to process this info.

"Well I'm gonna be late, I better hit it. Have fun!" I offered as I slipped into the car, starting the engine.

"Thanks," she offered back with a wave, "and good luck!" She bounced her eyebrows at me again as I rolled past.

Finally, my cock twitched.

My

mind was already on other things besides the prom at hand, and this

short interaction with the girl of my dreams did no good to change that.

Getting to Rachel's friend's house where we and a group of her friends

would be loading into a limo, I politely smiled and glad handed my way

through the proceedings, all the while my mind on what would be going on

at Sarah's house that evening.

On

the limo ride over, I nodded and laughed at the right points to keep up

appearances as my mind whirled with images of Stephanie, nude on

Sarah's bed, writhing around in pleasure as Sarah's tongue danced over

her clit. I cursed Rachel's prom, wishing I was at home, where I might

have the chance to see their lust from my bathroom window. Would I be

able to hear Stephanie’s erotic short-short-long moan when she finally

came on my redheaded goddess' face?

In

retrospect I recognize that I was a truly awful prom date. Rachel and

her friends did their best to convince me to have a good time, but my

mind was elsewhere. I fulfilled all my prom date obligations, but in a

very clinical manner. Even during slow dances, I couldn't think about

Rachel's two, extra large breasts pressed tight against my chest,

because I was too preoccupied with the four breasts no doubt being

pressed together right then back home.

Returning

to her friend's house after the dance, we changed into more comfortable

clothes. The big backyard was littered with pre-arranged tents, where

the crew would continue the festivities and ultimately spend the night.

There were a decent number of tents, but the yard was large enough that

no two were placed uncomfortably close to each other.

I

had not intended to stay the evening, but I wanted to be polite, so I

hung out for a while as everyone gathered around a roaring fire pit to

chat and laugh, and drink some smuggled booze. As we chatted, Rachel

pulled in close to my side, but I paid it no mind, as there was a slight

chill in the air, despite the flames.

We

all talked, but I couldn't tell you what was said. My mind was

permanently affixed to running a continuous cycle of all the erotic

scenarios that might be playing out at Sarah's house. Wet pussies

spasming on fingers, hands gripping fistfuls of hair in climax, God, I

wonder if Sarah has any toys. Was Stephanie over there right now wetting

a thick dildo with her mouth right before she eased it into Sarah's

cunt? For the first time in who knows how many days, I felt a tightness

in my pants.

I

needed to get up and walk around before anyone noticed, so I decided to

head off to the bathroom. As I got up, Rachel popped up as well, saying

she also had to go, and would walk with me. Heading back toward the

house, we passed through the small city of tents. From one tent to my

left I heard low, indistinct chatter, followed by a sudden intake of

breath, and what sounded like a moan. I paused, but felt Rachel's hand

on mine pulling me back on track toward the house.

We

chatted innocuously as we walked, my mind on the sapphic exhibition no

doubt unfolding next door to my house, but was brought back to the

moment as Rachel ascended the stairs in front of me. She wore a purple

zip-up hoodie and shorts, and only now, as her stepping legs flared out

her generous ass with each bend did I realize exactly how short they

were. They hung loose, but barely fell past the bottom scoop of her

cheeks, and pulled nice and tight across them as she climbed the stairs.

As

I waited for her to return from the bathroom, I realized I had never

seen her in something like this before; something so comfortable and

revealing; she was always proper and appropriate at any church function.

I thought back to her prom dress; modest, but accenting the flare of

her hips, and provided anyone close enough, say slow dance close, a

tantalizing view of her considerable cleavage. I thought about the fun,

lively, and sometimes raunchy manner in which she joked and celebrated

with her friends. I thought about the pictures she sent me, about how

she put those humongous breasts of hers on display, nipples painfully

erect. I realized I didn't know a damn thing about this girl; about who

she actually was. I knew her from church, and from our online

conversations, which is hardly enough to know who someone is; to know

what they're capable of.

As we started back toward the fire, the light rain dusting us as we walked, I decided it was time for me to go.

"Hey, I think I'm gonna get going, '' I said. Rachel stopped a few steps ahead of me.

"Are

you sure?" she asked, closing the distance between us. I was prepared

to answer in the affirmative, but right as the words formed in my mouth

the sky opened up.

"Oh

my God!" she shrieked as sheets of rain started down. She grabbed my

wrist and pulled as she dragged me towards the nearest tent. Quickly

working the zipper, we both tumbled in, safe from the rain, and no more

the worse for wear.

"That

was crazy, it just came out of nowhere!" She squeaked, the both of us

laughing as she clicked on a nearby lantern, bathing us both in a dim,

orange light. "You have to at least wait until the rain lets up," she

insisted. It was warm in the tent, and a big, thick sleeping bag was

laid out, with nice pillows around to lounge on; it wasn't the worst

place to wait out a rain storm.

We

sat in a thick silence as our breath returned to normal. Not the

largest tent in the world, we were huddled fairly close. The zipper on

her hoodie was let down a bit, allowing me to see the glistening flat of

her chest, and just the slightest hint of cleavage.

"Hey, do you remember the camping trips we used to go on with church?" she finally said, breaking the silence."

"Sure," I said timidly.

"Do you remember the backrubs we used to give each other?" She asked, a slight smile on her lips.

"Sure,"

I said again, thinking back to the few times I had run my hands over

the neck and back of a real woman in a chaste ritual that occupied the

hormonal instincts of horny teens bound by the virtuous demands of

religion.

"Well

I've had this kink in my neck," she said, turning her back to me, "and I

was wondering if maybe you'd give me one." She lifted her long

strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder, turning back over her shoulder

to glance at me.

"Sure," I said once again - it was the only word I seemed to remember. at that moment my mouth started to go dry.

"Great!" She exclaimed, and shimmied her plump ass back between my legs, only stopping when our bodies touched.

Fantasies

of Stephanie and Sarah started to fade from my mind as I focused on the

very real situation, the very real girl, in front of me. As I felt her

ass pressed up against my cock I still tried to rationalize what was

going on. Surely all she wanted was a neck rub, nothing more, just like

we used to do, right?

I

put my hands on her shoulders and started to rub, a slight moan

escaping her lips as I did so. Working my way inward toward her neck,

but the hood of her sweatshirt made it tough to make any actual

progress.

"I'm, uh, not sure how good I can really get in there with this hood in the way," I choked out.

I

heard the slight buzz of a descending zipper, and with a slight shrug

and a shimmy, she slipped the sweatshirt down over the crests of her

bare shoulders.

"How's this?" She breathed.

"Yeah,

that works" I practically whispered. I ran my hands over the warm,

exposed skin, traveling toward her neck and noticed something: My hands

never touched fabric. There was no shirt underneath her hoodie, no bra

straps either. Beneath this hooded sweatshirt was nothing but the bare

skin of her body..

My cock started to swell.

Her back arched, pressing her ass into me further.

I

rubbed the nape of her neck, eliciting a soft moan of approval. My

hands glided over her skin from the tips of her shoulders up the swoop

of her neck and down again. Her plump breasts remained covered by the

hoodie, but left her upper chest nude to the night air. Rocking my hands

forward on the downstroke, my fingers brushed across the ridges of her

collarbone, my mind once again taking note that there were no shirts, no

straps, only flesh. A pulse shot through my stiffening cock.

Her ass shifted against it.

"Umm,

that feels nice," she cooed, relaxing into me further. She was

practically reclining into me now, and I could peer over her shoulders,

down her exposed chest, and into the cleavage peeking out from her

unzipped sweatshirt. On every breath in, her massive mammaries would

pull the shirt tighter across them as they rose up slowly, before

sinking back down with breath out. It was hypnotic.

"Do you remember the last time we did this?" She asked with a playfulness in her tone.

"Yes,"

I managed to squeak out. I sure remembered. We had never done THis

before, but the last time I had my hands on her neck and shoulders was

at a church camping trip. The church camping trip. The one I had

confessed about to Tara during one of our Truth or Dare games. It was a

moment I would never forget, one forever branded with teenage

embarrassment. Hormones racing through my body, my hands touching a real

life girl, it all became too much, and right there at that church

camping trip, as Rachel gave a soft, pleasurable moan and put one hand

on my leg, my cock exploded in my pants. I ended the massage abruptly,

and ran off back to my tent in search of new pants. It was not my finest

moment.

"I

do too," Rachel offered up, and began lightly touching my leg. "You

don't think you'll have to end this one, prematurely, again, do you?"

she said with a smile, casting her gaze back over her bare shoulder. I

thought I had been sly at the time, but clearly she knew exactly what

happened and never let on.

"No,"

I assured her, but honestly who was to say; I hadn't cum in multiple

days so how quick my trigger would be was anyone's guess.

Her

breath began to draw deeper, and I could feel her heart rate increasing

as I continued running my hands over her shoulders and neck, my fingers

testing the boundaries by dipping lower, and lower, onto her exposed

upper chest. My balls were aching, and my cock was rock hard. I'm sure

she could feel every pulse against her ass, an ass she was now starting

to slowly slide back and forth against me.

My

hands made their way up her neck, and as my thumb traced her jawline,

she quickly and adeptly turned her head and took it right into her warm,

wet mouth. I gasped. Her tongue snaked around it, and then her lips

popped off it just as quickly as they had taken it in. her breathing was

heavy, and I could see her hard nipples through the fabric of her shirt

as her bosom rose and fell like an ocean wave.

She

leaned further back into me. Her head rested back on my shoulder, her

warm, flushed cheek touching mine. Pressing herself hard against my

chest, she reached up with her hands, and eased the zipper of her shirt

all the way down at an agonizingly slow pace. Down between her heaving

tits, over her stomach, finally unclasping at the garment's terminus.

My

gaze was frozen down over her shoulder, my hands rubbing more out of

nervousness than any attempt to massage. This was not what I had

expected at all. This unassuming church girl, well documented as saving

herself for marriage, was pressed up tightly between my legs, my hard

cock like a bar of iron in her back, the valley between her breasts now

plainly visible as her unzipped shirt clung to each hard-nippled globe.

My mind was reeling.

Both our hearts racing, Rachel grasped each side of the unzipped shirt, and slowly drew them apart.

"Oh

my God," I whispered, as her breasts emerged like a sunrise. The low

light of the lantern illuminated them as her hands drew back, revealing

two enormous tits still held tight by the magic of youth. Her skin was

pale and perfect, her nipples hard, reaching for the sky.

My

hands were still roaming her neck and shoulders, and when I

instinctively let one wander down lower than ever and brush the soft

swell of her exposed breasts, a long, low, whisper of "Yes" from her was

all the encouragement I needed.

I

drew my hands back and paused for a moment. I thought about church. I

thought about sin. I thought about this lusty girl between my legs who

was in the choir, and attended bible study, and whose family belonged to

two churches. Then I slid my hands under her arms, out in front of her,

and for the first time in my life I felt the soft flesh of naked

breasts overflow my hands. I squeezed. She moaned. I pressed. She

moaned. I grasped her nipples between my fingers and gave a slight

pinch. She gasped "Yes."

Her

body writhed against me as I kneaded her considerable breasts, her legs

butterflying open and closed, hands grasping at my legs as I rolled her

hard nipples through my fingers. Soft moans of encouragement egging me

on as my breath became ragged, my heart rate increasing. Then, arching

her back into me, one hand came up, covered my own, and started to drag

it slowly down the front of her shifting body, over her stomach, and

stopping at the waistband of her shorts.

I held my breath.

Another

shift against me, grinding her ass into the hard cock and swelling

balls held captive by my pants. Then her hand guided my hand underneath

the band of her shorts. I felt no underwear. My fingers traipsed over a

tightly cropped tuft of pubic hair, landing on the silky, swollen folds

of her cunt. I rubbed gently, and quickly began to feel a slick wetness

pass over my fingers. I spread it around, making my explorations smooth.

Her

thick thighs spread open and she gasped as my hand snaked deeper. Her

lips were wide and dripping with inviting arousal. My finger slipped

inside. This was the girl who won the bible verse memorization contest,

and I had my finger inside her. A long groan escaped from deep in

Rachel's throat as I plunged and rubbed, exploring her tight, wet cunt.

The angle wasn't one where I could go terribly deep, but it was enough

to feel her wet walls gripping me delightfully on each outward stroke. I

was squeezing her large breast in one hand, and dipping into her hot

lusty core with the other, Rachel was breathing hot and heavy in my ear.

Though

this was the first cunt I'd ever actually touched, I'd done enough

"research" over the years to have a reasonable idea of where to focus my

attention, so each time I slid my hand up from her sopping threshold,

I'd drag her slick girl cum with me, lubricating my digits as I slid

around her clit in firm circles.

This

drove Rachel mad, and her hands grasped my legs tight as I worked her

willing cunt. Long moans began to come frequently, our privacy preserved

by the sound of the hard falling rain. My fingers ran a relay race

between her dripping opening and her throbbing clit. Long moans gave way

to shorter, quicker, breathier ones. I could feel it. Both our breaths

heaving now, we raced Rachel's young body, on fire with pleasure, toward

that glorious release.

Her

moans got deeper, throatier; almost cries. She reached her hand up,

feeling my head next to hers, and grasped my hair tightly. With the

faintest amount of composure she whispered into my ear "two fingers,

use, two fingers."

Not

one to disappoint a lady in need, I lubed up a second finger, sliding

it in as deep as I could manage on the next down stroke. She grasped me

tighter.

Two, three, four plunges of my fingers into her hot wanton cunt, followed by figure eights around her electric clit.

"Yes" she hissed.

I repeated the pattern, pinching her nipple with my fingers as I did it.

"Yes,

Yes, Yes" she bellowed, the words coming out in a hard staccato. Not

knowing what else to do, out of instinct I leaned my head down and began

kissing her neck.

A

deep, sharp intake of breath followed. Her hands grabbed on to me

tight. Her thick thighs slammed shut around my hand, and for the first

time in my life I felt the indescribable pulse and throb of a wet cunt

as it spasmed in orgasm around my fingers.

All sound left Rachel's body, and she froze, paralyzed by the rush of ecstasy.

After

what felt like an eternity, but what was probably thirty seconds or so,

the paralysis left, and her body deflated, relaxing limp against me.

Her breath returned, her thighs slowly parted, and I gently withdrew my

hand from her satisfied cunt, bringing it back up to knead her fat tits.

"Oh my God,” she said finally, a languid sleepiness in her voice, “ that was a great back rub." We both laughed.

Rachel

may have been loose and relaxed, but I was more wound up than I had

ever been in my entire life. Somehow I managed not to cum in my pants

again, and my whole body was stiff as I tried to process what had just

happened.

Then Rachel's ass started to move against my cock again.

Finally

she sat up. Her back still facing me, I saw the side of her

considerable tit protruding out past her rib cage as her arms raised up

in a stretch.

"You

seem really tense, Tim,” she said lustily. Slowly she turned her body

around, finally bringing her amazing tits into full view. Bathed in the

warm glow of the lantern, two perfect, alabaster globes projected out

from her open sweatshirt, welcoming me. Shadows cast over them, carving

out their exquisite shape, swelling out with two hard, pink nipples as

accents. Kneeling in front of me now, she put her hands on her knees,

and used her arms to push her two huge talents together, in a display so

erotic I forgot how to speak. “ Maybe I can figure out a way to get you

more relaxed."

All I could do was nod in the affirmative.

Her

tits jiggled seductively as she scooted closer to me, kneeling between

my legs. Running her hands up my thighs, they joined each other at my

belt buckle. I moaned as she lightly pressed, feeling my hardness for

the first time. She smiled, and began undoing my pants, tits lightly

shaking back and forth as her hands worked. I heard the jingle of metal,

the buzz of a zipper, and then I closed my eyes as I felt hands other

than my own touch my hard cock for the first time. Cool air passed over

the head as her hands gently unwrapped my package, exposing my cock and

churning balls to the night air.

"Oh

my," she said, a smile forming on her face. Her fingertips lightly

traced over the edges of my throbbing cockhead, down the thick underside

vein of my shaft, and around the tight sack of my balls. "This is

lovely," she said as the smile faded, replaced by what I can only

describe as almost a trance-like state.

After

an eternity of teasing, she wrapped her fingers completely around the

shaft of my cock, gripped it lightly, but confidently, and slowly began

jerking me off.

At

this point I had what can only be described as an out of body

experience, or at least a moment of total awareness as I took in the

scene before me: Rachel, the girl I believed to be totally chaste and

inexperienced, was kneeling in front of me, not unlike she would on a

Sunday at church, swollen tits displayed out in front of me, practically

drooling over my cock as she stroked it up and down, drawing me closer

and closer to orgasm. I wondered in that moment if my cock was the first

cock she had ever touched, or if "saving myself till marriage" took

only one activity off the table, freeing her to rationalize enjoying any

number of other sinful activities with any number of other cocks. I

wondered what her mouth felt like, if she had ever had a cock between

her lips, ever tasted cum.

I

had plenty of nasty thoughts brewing, but my focus was brought back by

the hypnotic sway of her luscious, oversized tits. Tara's tits were

perfect, but Rachel's were something different all together, almost

Amazonian. They bobbed to and fro as each stroke of her hand on my cock

elicited a low grunt from deep inside me. My eyes were glued to them as

the pleasure started to coil inside my loins.

"It's ok," she almost gasped, the intensity of the moment affecting her as well, "you can touch them."

She

shifted even closer to me now, and my hands rose up with a life of

their own, settling over her globes with a firm squeeze. She moaned. She

was close enough now that the head of my trembling, straining cock was a

breath away from touching the bottom arch of her voluptuous bosom.

I

squeezed and kneaded, she moaned again, and her hands started working

up and down my length faster, more deliberately. My own groans and

squeaks increased, and my body started to buzz with pleasure. My hips

started to instinctively thrust, desperately trying to close the gap

between her tits and my cockhead. Then, as her stroking hand was sending

me careening toward the edge, her other hand delicately closed around

my balls, and began gently rubbing and pushing them. She knew what she

was doing.

"Oh my God," I choked out once, my eyes squeezing shut. Her hands still working in tandem, both our breaths ragged once again

"Oh my God," I choked out a second time, more desperately, another moan slipping from her lips as I squeezed her tits harder

"Oh,

My, God." I chanted deliberately a final time just as the coiled spring

of euphoria snapped, propelling the first hot white rope of cum out of

my cock at light speed.

My

eyes opened just in time to see a glistening white lash strike a path

straight up the valley of Rachel's cleavage and reach up across the flat

of her chest. This visual added an even more intense throb to my

orgasm, and my eyes closed as my cock pumped rope after rope of cum up

and out, splattering my shirt, and running like white hot lava over her

fingers as she continued to stroke me.

My

throbbing began to subside, and I began to regain my breath. Her hands

slowed, and then finally released my swollen cock. I opened my eyes ;

 there was Rachel, the good Christian church girl, her naked, exposed

tits lashed with my semen, her hands glistening in the light, covered in

more of the same. The loud patter of the rain on the tent almost felt

like a round of applause.

"Ew,

gross!" She exclaimed, snapping me out of the post-orgasmic glow I had

been floating in. She took her clean hand and wiped my cum off her

chest, then wiped both hands on my pants. I was too paralyzed still to

complain.

Then,

as reality returned, so too did the awkwardness of teenage interaction.

The rain began to let up, emphasizing the silence we now sat in.

"That

was, that was fun," Rachel finally said, her eyes not meeting mine. She

reached for the ends of her sweatshirt, and turned away from me, as

though her mind, free from the intoxication of lust, reminded her that

her naked breasts were not for my eyes.

"Yeah,"

was all I managed to get out as I tucked my sticky cock back into my

pants and zipped up. A feeling hung in the air like we had just done

something wrong, despite our actions being nothing but natural.

"I should go clean up, you said you had to go, right?" it was less of a question and more of a statement.

"Yeah, yeah," I responded. There was embarrassment in the air now, and we both needed to step away from it.

"Ok

cool," she said, moving toward the entrance of the tent. She paused,

looking back at me, catching my eye only briefly. "Thanks for a fun

night," she said, flashed a polite smile, and then disappeared into the

darkness.

I

sat there, bewildered, trying to collect my thoughts over what had just

transpired, but I too felt the need to leave. I straightened up the

best I could, and exited the tent. Looking back toward the fire pit, I

found it empty, the rain having driven the others into their respective

tents. I paused. I listened.

The faint sounds of moans and ragged breath hung delicately in the air.

It

was Sunday again, and my cock was hard in my hand again. As the water

showered down over me, I stroked hard, but this time I wasn't fueled by

fantasy, I was fueled by memory. By actual, lived experience.

Eyes

closed tightly, I pictured the events of Friday's post-prom party. I

saw Rachel's plump breasts, nipples hard, rising up and down with each

ragged, lusty breath. I felt her wet cunt on my fingers as she orgasmed.

I felt her hands run up and down my cock. I saw the hunger on her face

as she stroked me,

I

jerked faster, my balls tensing as I pictured her fat tits with a hot

jet stream of my cum splashed across them; a white, sticky rope of

pleasure snapped across perfect, heaving globes.

I grunted out a long-held breath and shot my cum into the shower.

Pressure

released, at least for the moment. I let the warm water cascade over me

as I reflected once again on what happened afterward; after Rachel, the

girl I knew from church, made me cum with her hands.

"Ew,

gross" she had said. Not exactly the most flattering thing to hear

after you've just shot your load. It's not like I was expecting her to

thank me for such a wonderful gift or something, but we had just done

something pretty intimate together, and the first thing that entered her

mind was "Ew, gross."

I

mean, obviously it was gross; I had just shot a bodily fluid onto her

hands and chest; but what we had done was also kind of magical, wasn't

it? My mind wandered to Stephanie’s mom Sandy, to Tara. Sandy seemed to

revel in it when that mystery man painted her face and body with his

cum; his orgasm seemed to turn her on even more than she already was!

And Tara, when I jerked off for Tara, I had put myself in the most

vulnerable position imaginable, and when I shot my cum into the air she

said it was "Awesome."

"Ew, gross," flitted across my mind again.

I

knew sex was different with people you care about, maybe Rachel just

didn't care about me. But then again, could I really say I cared about

Rachel?

Why did I feel so bad about what happened with Stephanie? Did I, care about her?

My

mind ping-ponged between my screw up with Stephanie and the sour ending

to my first true sexual experience with Rachel. I left the house ready

to head to church, and as I fumbled with my car keys I heard a voice

from behind me.

"Hey,

how'd it go the other night?" it called through deep, panting breaths.

It was Sarah, the girl next door, the girl of my dreams, and she was

breathing heavily from the run she just returned from. Long fiery hair

pulled back into a tight ponytail, her pale cheeks and chest stained red

from exertion. Deep breaths raised and dropped two large breasts tucked

firmly in a blue sports bra.

"It

went,” I paused, as "ew, gross" snapped across my mind once again. “ it

was fun," I finally answered. It honestly wasn't a lie, but the truth

also wasn't as simple as a single answer.

"What

about you; how'd your friend do on that test?" I inquired, fishing for

info about Stephanie and the test she and I worked so hard to prepare

her for.

"She

did really well," Sarah said, extending her leg out, placing her foot

on her front step. Bending over to stretch, the skin tight black

leggings she wore left no curve of hers to the imagination. "We did

plenty of celebrating," She smiled.

Traditionally

that smile alone was enough to cause a stirring in my loins, but today,

backed by my own mental images of what that celebration might have

looked like, images of Stephanie’s face tucked deep between Sarah's

legs, licking her toward orgasmic release, my dick started to surge.

"So

are you and this girl like a thing now?" She inquired. The question was

an odd one. I wasn't quite sure why she was taking such an interest in

me, or my love life, at all, and definitely unsure as to why now. I

puzzled it over as I watched her body twist, her back muscles firing as

she stretched.

God,

she had a great body. You'd never have guessed based on the

figure-hiding ensembles she generally wore to school. At school she hid

her breasts, she hid her hips, but here she was comfortable.

"Nah, just, friends," I offered up, not even really sure where Rachel and I stood at this point

"That's good," Sarah said, mid stretch.

"What? Why?" I said, feeling almost offended.

"Just, you know,” she almost choked out, scrambling a bit, "no one to be jealous of your other prom date, that's all!"

"ah, I see,” I said, feigning understanding. Checking the time, I saw I was late.

We

exchanged our pleasantries and I dropped into my car. I watched her

ponytail and pert ass bounce as she hopped up the stairs into her house.

At church, my mind was on anything but the sermon.

I

thought about the conversation. What an odd thing for Sarah to say. Who

would be jealous? Was She jealous? Was Sarah secretly into me?

My

mind then drifted to Rachel; I was happy she wasn't there this week. I

don't know if I'd have been able to keep it out of my mind that the

hands she raised in worship had so recently been wrapped around my hard

cock, had so recently been covered in my jizz.

I thought about Stephanie.

To be continued in Part 3

By LiminallySpaced for Literotica.