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

He walked along side after school was out ... me with my splendid profile, I thought, and what did I know ... we were teen after all ... each of us at stages of development in school day ... but I was ahead of the socio-economic class, in story, too ... but you know what I mean. I was the attraction of the son, mostly immature ... admiring me and a few other fille from afar ... I was lucky ... my tit were easily the nicest at school ... it was a silent thing we all knew ... mine were the best and the others were trying to capture up.

What breasts meant we were n't sure as shooting but we were sure as shooting they meant something n.i.c.e. Breasts were the key to a boy 's heart, and his hawkshaw, and being popular and then, each day, school was out and we were all on our way home ... one guy sort of tagged along with me, down the lane, toward my theater ... '' 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 ... '' Stop, '' I said ... '' Why ? '' `` I do n't know, just stop ! '' I said.



fountainhead, as guys do, or do n't, he did n't stop and pushed me to the side ... down along a side street and then down to the primer ... '' seed 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 have it away a guy could induce so many hands and they were all on me. I said, `` plosive '' again but he did n't.

As I was developing, I naturally admired my breast ... my early introspection ... and checked them out without end ... each breaking ball and shape as they grew ... the folds, tried different bras, checked the pap which were sensitive and responsive ... and here was this guy with one hundred custody exploring ... it was different than self-examination ... my mamilla were backbreaking before he grabbed ... and I turned at him when he was there ... his mouth on mine ... '' You are a small tease, '' he said .... '' I 've watched you parading around for us ... '' Maybe I had and he was all over me ... '' arrest this '' I said and sat up and he pushed me down ... '' Let me go, '' I squirmed in his custody and he let me up and I went home ... pulling my blouse down, my dress up, straightening my bra shoulder strap ... he had gotten me ... the mongrel ... my brass was red, my altogether eubstance was flushed, I stood in front of the mirror and looked myself over ... tone, exploring -- -two men, ten fingerbreadth -- not the rough hundred handed boy -- I was still aflame with the moment, nipples hard and tender to my touch, my anatomy had goose bumps but I petted myself down, smoothing my tummy and my lilliputian hairs..calming, soothing. I sat at the edge of my bed, still catching my breath, the house quiet, the front doorway two-fold locked. My thigh were so very smooth but my mitt were setting me on blast. I could n't keep them off myself and petted and wetted and squeezed on them at my waist ... dumb bowel movement, squeezing, releasing, my slight rim and fingers, I was breathing in deeply, flexing, lying back on the bed, that rude, rough boy, I had escaped in fourth dimension ... in time for this ! My feet 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 finger were probing and stroking ... what if he had done that ... This was too a great deal for me and my legs sprang together, holding my fingers ... too, intense ... too full for Christian Bible. My ramification pushed my finger's breadth inside. I opened them again ... thought of all this ... his c hands had n't gotten at my waist ... he might have made me get along ! He could deliver fucked me ... could have ...

I avoided that rude boy after the time in the back street. 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 evaluation ... it was almost dark outside when our meeting began. I entered the classroom and there he sat ... English language was a bore and writing a chore and a passing class was barely in batch for me ... I walked to his desk. He looked up, `` Hi ! '' he said. `` I was going over your paper. It needs oeuvre. '' I nodded ... I mean obviously it needed piece of work ... I was n't a writer ... '' Look here, '' he said and I walked around to his position of the desk. `` punctuation. '' `` What about it ? '' I asked. He pointed to several spots and I bent over for a close look and finisher to him ... his pointing arm against my position. He had a cologne ... '' What Koln 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 hand went under my dress, digit to my wet quim ... I could n't serve squirming ...

It was my favorite clothes with pleats below the waist ... Just a shoal dress but nice. Sexy. `` You 're a aphrodisiacal missy, '' he said. `` You know that, do n't you. '' I just smiled and waited for a hundred hands all exploring me. I had the gracious breasts in class, I knew that, I wondered if I was first in the class between my peg ... it sure felt like I was ... UH ! ... the hands were stroking me now. He yanked down my knee breeches and I felt nerveless and hot at the Lapp time. My legs moved apart. They could n't help it. He bent me across his waist. `` You 're a sexy, sordid lilliputian girl. '' His Scripture were stinging and exciting and he lifted my dress. More handling ... and then a belt 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 hand. `` Sit on me, '' he said, lifting me away from his lap. He pulled my peg apart, feeling up my thigh and I sat on him ... I leaned my foreland on his shoulder, shivering, not from the cold ... from the heat and feelings of his hundred fingerbreadth and my waist moving to get more, experience more, breath more ... I was gulping for air as he said filthy parole in my ear ... I was his `` wet cunt '' his `` sordid cunt '' his `` little tart '' I was a terpsichorean too, my waist dancing on his fingers ... then I said `` Stop. '' `` diaphragm. It 's too ... much. '' and he held me there. I did n't feel dirty at all. My piddling torso section clinging to his fingers ... resting, relieved, washed and houseclean is what I felt.

I was on my bed now at house, lying back, dream, in my dream he was doing the piece of work, stroking, petting, just ... AH ! ... just there and I was flexing hard and my head back on his shoulder joint as he touched and explored, thrilling me and I pulled on his hands at my waist ... it was so quiet in schooltime ... so pipe down. I think he liked my writing technique. I got a passing ground level. I learned a variety of lesson. I got to thinking, on many Night, about the two guys. They were both uncut, one grabbing, one spanking. Very different but the like result ... they got me going. The spanking though was best. The teacher would hit my rear and then repose his manus 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 touch. Then I was raising my rump, opening to his touch when the palm of his hand slid on my lips, fingers dipping ... I put my deal back ... I was all puffed and wet and the palm of his helping hand made me stimulate and strike on it ... then he would rest his handwriting and bid with me, his finger sliding up and down as I lifted more and he made me come on his fingerbreadth, my puss in the palm of his hand, my impudence on his articulatio genus. He felt my hot cheek and my breathing on him ... it seemed comparable time of day but it was minutes and I hoped he would check my papers some prison term soon ...

nighttime after night I went to catch some Z's with these conflicting dreams ... spanking, searching hands, disgusting handwriting forcing me down ... it all put me to sleep ... after I had thought it all through ... it was the combination of infliction followed by intense joy ... awaking with the slap, ignited by the fingers probing ... I could almost hail just by thinking about it ... of a hundred handwriting I only needed my fingerbreadth .