A `` Great '' Guy ... the Bastard Growing up by phyllisroger

He walked along face after school was out ... me with my splendid visibility, I thought, and what did I know ... we were teenagers after all ... each of us at microscope stage of development in school ... but I was ahead of the class, in History, too ... but you know what I mean. I was the magnet of the boys, mostly immature ... admiring me and a few other young lady from afar ... I was favourable ... my breasts were easily the overnice at schooltime ... it was a unsounded thing we all knew ... mine were the best and the others were trying to catch up.

What breasts meant we were n't sure but we were sure they meant something n.i.c.e. Breasts were the key to a boy 's tenderness, and his dick, and being popular and then, each day, schoolhouse was out and we were all on our way home ... one guy sort of tagged along with me, down the lane, toward my star sign ... '' Hey, '' he said to me. `` Hey, back '' I said ... and we walked along. I noticed it was just us two ... '' Come on ! '' he said and pushed me to the side ... '' stopover, '' I said ... '' Why ? '' `` I do n't know, just stop ! '' I said.



Well, as cat do, or do n't, he did n't stop and pushed me to the face ... down along a side street and then down to the ground ... '' Come on, '' he said ... '' Let me go, '' I cried as he pushed me down and now he was like one hundred hands ... I did n't know a guy could have so many hands and they were all on me. I said, `` plosive consonant '' again but he did n't.

As I was developing, I naturally admired my tit ... my early self-examinations ... and checked them out without end ... each curve and conformation as they grew ... the folds, tried different bandeau, checked the nipples which were sensitive and responsive ... and here was this guy with one hundred manpower exploring ... it was unlike than self-examination ... my nipples were arduous before he grabbed ... and I turned at him when he was there ... his backtalk on mine ... '' You are a trivial ribbing, '' he said .... '' I 've watched you parading around for us ... '' Maybe I had and he was all over me ... '' kibosh this '' I said and sat up and he pushed me down ... '' Let me go, '' I squirmed in his hands and he let me up and I went home ... pulling my blouse down, my dress up, straightening my bra straps ... he had gotten me ... the bastard ... my expression was red, my unscathed trunk was flushed, I stood in front line of the mirror and looked myself over ... feeling, exploring -- -two hands, ten digit -- not the rough hundred handed boy -- I was still aflame with the bit, nipples surd and sensitive to my touch, my flesh had bozo bumps but I petted myself down, smoothing my tummy and my little hairs..calming, soothing. I sat at the sharpness of my bed, still catching my breath, the house quiet, the front end door two-bagger locked. My thigh were so very smooth but my work force were setting me on flaming. I could n't proceed them off myself and petted and wetted and squeezed on them at my waist ... retard movement, squeezing, releasing, my niggling lips and digit, I was breathing in deeply, flexing, lying back on the bed, that rude, rough boy, I had escaped in sentence ... in sentence for this ! My pes were up now, and spread apart, thinking of him pushing me down, grabbing at my breasts, but he had n't tried for my waist..not there, just at that, AH ! ..special spot, where my fingers were probing and stroking ... what if he had done that ... This was too much for me and my legs sprang together, holding my fingers ... too, acute ... too good for words. My branch pushed my fingers inside. I opened them again ... thought of all this ... his one C work force had n't gotten at my waistline ... he might have made me come ! He could have fucked me ... could own ...

I avoided that rude boy after the meter in the alley. Made for certain I got home early for some self-examination. Then one afternoon I stayed late at school to see my teacher for a writing valuation ... it was almost colored outside when our coming together began. I entered the classroom and there he sat ... English was a bore and writing a chore and a passing grad was barely in lot for me ... I walked to his desk. He looked up, `` Hi ! '' he said. `` I was going over your paper. It needs work. '' I nodded ... I mean obviously it needed body of work ... I was n't a writer ... '' looking here, '' he said and I walked around to his English of the desk. `` Punctuation. '' `` What about it ? '' I asked. He pointed to various floater and I bent over for a nearer look and finisher to him ... his pointing arm against my side. He had a Koln ... '' What cologne is that ? '' I asked. `` Hmm ... I do n't know. '' `` I like it. '' He looked up at me and smiled ... staring right at me I smiled back. He kissed me and pulled away but kissed me again. He was n't like the rude boy and I was feeling flushed. His script went under my garb, fingers to my wet quim ... I could n't help squirming ...

It was my favorite dress with pleats below the waist ... Just a school frock but nice. Sexy. `` You 're a sexy girl, '' he said. `` You know that, do n't you. '' I just smiled and waited for a hundred hands all exploring me. I had the courteous breasts in socio-economic class, I knew that, I wondered if I was first in the class between my legs ... it indisputable felt like I was ... UH ! ... the hands were stroking me now. He yanked down my knickers and I felt cool and hot at the Lapplander fourth dimension. My legs moved apart. They could n't aid it. He bent me across his waist. `` You 're a sexy, dirty small girl. '' His words were stinging and exciting and he lifted my dress. More handling ... and then a whack on my bottom ... '' You should be spanked because you 're dirty, '' he said and he spanked me again ... pushing me against his leg. Now he was massaging my bottom ... spanking me again as I moved against his bridge player. `` Sit on me, '' he said, lifting me away from his lap. He pulled my legs apart, feeling up my thigh and I sat on him ... I leaned my head on his shoulder, shivering, not from the low temperature ... from the heat and feelings of his hundred fingers and my waist moving to get more, feel more, breath more ... I was gulping for air as he said unsporting discussion in my ear ... I was his `` wet cunt '' his `` muddy cunt '' his `` petty whore '' I was a terpsichorean too, my waistline dancing on his finger ... then I said `` block. '' `` Stop. It 's too ... much. '' and he held me there. I did n't feel dirty at all. My little eubstance portion clinging to his finger's breadth ... resting, relieved, washed and clean is what I felt.

I was on my bed now at household, lying back, dreaming, in my dreaming he was doing the work, stroking, petting, just ... AH ! ... just there and I was flexing hard and my head back on his shoulder as he touched and explored, thrilling me and I pulled on his hands at my shank ... it was so smooth in schooltime ... so quiet. I think he liked my piece of writing proficiency. I got a pass grade. I learned a kind of lesson. I got to thinking, on many nights, about the two guy rope. They were both grating, one grabbing, one spanking. Very different but the same result ... they got me going. The paddle though was best. The teacher would hit my nates and then perch his hired hand on me, moving it around, like soothing the skin he had hit and then spanking me again, smoothing again. It stung each time but I forgot about the sting and waited for his soothing contact. Then I was raising my rump, opening to his touch when the palm of his helping hand slid on my lips, finger's breadth dipping ... I put my manus back ... I was all puffed and wet and the palm of his hand made me shake and move on it ... then he would breathe his hand and play with me, his fingers sliding up and down as I lifted more and he made me add up on his fingers, my cunt in the palm of his hand, my face on his knees. He felt my hot cheek and my respiration on him ... it seemed care hours but it was minutes and I hoped he would check my papers some time soon ...

Night after night I went to sleep with these conflicting dream ... spanking, searching hands, disgusting hands forcing me down ... it all put me to slumber ... after I had thought it all through ... it was the combination of painfulness followed by intense joy ... awaking with the slap, ignited by the finger probing ... I could almost fall just by thinking about it ... of a one C hands I only needed my finger .