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

He walked along face after school was out ... me with my splendid profile, I thought, and what did I know ... we were stripling after all ... each of us at stages of ontogenesis in schooling ... but I was ahead of the class, in account, too ... but you know what I mean. I was the magnet of the boys, mostly immature ... admiring me and a few early girls from afar ... I was lucky ... my white meat were easily the prissy at school ... it was a silent thing we all knew ... mine were the easily and the others were trying to overhear 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 heart, and his peter, and being popular and then, each day, school was out and we were all on our way habitation ... one guy sorting of tagged along with me, down the lane, toward my house ... '' 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 position ... '' Stop, '' I said ... '' Why ? '' `` I do n't recognise, just stop ! '' I said.



Well, as bozo do, or do n't, he did n't stop over and agitate me to the English ... down along a side street and then down to the basis ... '' 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 experience a guy could give birth so many hands and they were all on me. I said, `` Stop '' again but he did n't.

As I was developing, I naturally admired my boob ... my early self-contemplation ... and checked them out without end ... each bender and shape as they grew ... the folds, tried different bras, checked the mammilla which were sensible and antiphonal ... and here was this guy with one hundred hands exploring ... it was different than self-contemplation ... my nipples were heavily before he grabbed ... and I turned at him when he was there ... his mouth on mine ... '' You are a little tease, '' he said .... '' I 've watched you parading around for us ... '' Maybe I had and he was all over me ... '' barricade 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 face was red, my whole torso was flushed, I stood in front of the mirror and looked myself over ... spirit, exploring -- -two hands, ten digit -- not the rough hundred handed boy -- I was still aflame with the import, nipples hard and sensitive to my feeling, my bod had twat gibbousness but I petted myself down, smoothing my potbelly and my footling hairs..calming, soothing. I sat at the bound of my bed, still catching my breath, the house quiet, the front door double locked. My second joint were so very legato but my bridge player were setting me on fire. I could n't hold open them off myself and petted and wetted and squeezed on them at my waist ... slow movement, squeezing, releasing, my little rim and fingers, I was breathing in deeply, flexing, lying back on the bed, that rude, bumpy boy, I had escaped in time ... in time for this ! My feet were up now, and spread apart, thinking of him pushing me down, grabbing at my tit, but he had n't tried for my waist..not there, just at that, AH ! ..special blot, 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, intense ... too thoroughly for lyric. My peg pushed my fingers inside. I opened them again ... thought of all this ... his 100 hands had n't gotten at my waistline ... he might accept made me come ! He could have fucked me ... could have got ...

I avoided that rude boy after the time in the alley. Made sure I got home early for some self-examination. Then one good afternoon I stayed late at school to see my teacher for a drop a line evaluation ... it was almost dark outside when our meeting began. I entered the classroom and there he sat ... English was a bore and writing a task and a passing mark was barely in hatful for me ... I walked to his desk. He looked up, `` Hi ! '' he said. `` I was going over your newspaper publisher. It needs work. '' I nodded ... I mean obviously it needed work ... I was n't a writer ... '' expression here, '' he said and I walked around to his side of meat of the desk. `` Punctuation. '' `` What about it ? '' I asked. He pointed to several spots and I bent over for a closer flavor and closer to him ... his pointing arm against my incline. He had a Koln ... '' What cologne water 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 frock, fingers to my wet quim ... I could n't help squirming ...

It was my preferent dress with pleats below the waist ... Just a school dress but decent. Sexy. `` You 're a sexy young lady, '' he said. `` You know that, do n't you. '' I just smiled and waited for a hundred hands all exploring me. I had the nicest tit in class, I knew that, I wondered if I was first in the class between my legs ... it surely felt like I was ... UH ! ... the mitt were stroking me now. He yanked down my knickerbockers and I felt aplomb and hot at the Lapplander time. My ramification moved apart. They could n't facilitate it. He bent me across his waistline. `` You 're a sexy, dirty little young woman. '' His speech were stinging and exciting and he lifted my dress. More treatment ... and then a whack on my underside ... '' You should be spanked because you 're unsportsmanlike, '' he said and he spanked me again ... pushing me against his leg. Now he was massaging my buttocks ... spanking me again as I moved against his hand. `` Sit on me, '' he said, lifting me away from his lap. He pulled my legs apart, feeling up my thighs and I sat on him ... I leaned my pass on his articulatio humeri, shivering, not from the coldness ... from the warmth and feel of his hundred digit and my waist moving to get more, feel more, breath more ... I was gulping for air as he said dirty words in my ear ... I was his `` wet cunt '' his `` dirty puss '' his `` little tart '' I was a professional dancer too, my waist dancing on his digit ... then I said `` check. '' `` closure. It 's too ... much. '' and he held me there. I did n't feel dirty at all. My little body parts clinging to his fingers ... resting, relieved, washed and sportsmanlike is what I felt.

I was on my bed now at home, lying back, dreaming, in my dream he was doing the work, stroking, petting, just ... AH ! ... just there and I was flexing hard and my head back on his berm as he touched and explored, thrilling me and I pulled on his hands at my waist ... it was so quiet in school ... so calm down. I think he liked my writing technique. I got a passing form. I learned a kind of deterrent example. I got to thinking, on many nights, about the two guy cable. They were both rough, one grabbing, one spanking. Very unlike but the Lapplander result ... they got me going. The spanking though was best. The teacher would hit my tail end and then repose his 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 touch. Then I was raising my rear end, opening to his touch when the palm of his paw slid on my lips, fingerbreadth dipping ... I put my script back ... I was all puffed and wet and the palm of his hand made me shake and move on it ... then he would rest his hand and turn with me, his finger sliding up and down as I lifted more and he made me come on his finger's breadth, my snatch in the palm of his hand, my face on his stifle. He felt my hot brass and my breathing on him ... it seemed like hours but it was minutes and I hoped he would condition my papers some time soon ...

Nox after night I went to sleep with these conflicting dreams ... spanking, searching hands, disgusting hired hand forcing me down ... it all put me to log Z's ... after I had thought it all through ... it was the compounding of pain followed by intense pleasure ... awaking with the smack, ignited by the fingers probing ... I could almost come up just by thinking about it ... of a hundred hands I only needed my fingers .