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

He walked along slope after shoal was out ... me with my splendid visibility, I thought, and what did I know ... we were teenagers after all ... each of us at phase of development in school ... but I was ahead of the class, in history, too ... but you know what I mean. I was the attractive feature of the boys, mostly immature ... admiring me and a few other miss from afar ... I was lucky ... my breasts were easily the skillful at schoolhouse ... it was a dumb matter we all knew ... mine were the best and the others were trying to catch up.

What breasts meant we were n't certain but we were trusted they meant something n.i.c.e. breast were the key to a boy 's heart, and his dick, 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 house ... '' Hey, '' he said to me. `` Hey, back '' I said ... and we walked along. I noticed it was just us two ... '' fare on ! '' he said and pushed me to the side ... '' hitch, '' I said ... '' Why ? '' `` I do n't have intercourse, just discontinue ! '' I said.



Well, as guys do, or do n't, he did n't end and labour me to the side ... down along a side street and then down to the basis ... '' cum on, '' he said ... '' Let me go, '' I cried as he pushed me down and now he was like one hundred mitt ... I did n't make out a guy could have so many hired man and they were all on me. I said, `` arrest '' again but he did n't.

As I was developing, I naturally admired my breasts ... my betimes self-examination ... and checked them out without end ... each curve and shape as they grew ... the folds, tried unlike bras, checked the nipple which were sore and responsive ... and here was this guy with one hundred hands exploring ... it was different than self-examination ... my mammilla were hard before he grabbed ... and I turned at him when he was there ... his backtalk on mine ... '' You are a little teasing, '' he said .... '' I 've watched you parading around for us ... '' Maybe I had and he was all over me ... '' Stop 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 boldness was red, my whole consistency was flushed, I stood in front of the mirror and looked myself over ... feeling, exploring -- -two hands, ten fingers -- not the rough out hundred handed boy -- I was still aflame with the here and now, nipples hard and tender to my touch, my flesh had goofball jut but I petted myself down, smoothing my tummy and my little hairs..calming, soothing. I sat at the edge of my bed, still catching my breath, the house quiet, the front room access double locked. My thigh were so very tranquil but my hand were setting me on flak. I could n't keep them off myself and petted and wetted and squeezed on them at my shank ... dull movement, squeezing, releasing, my little back talk and finger's breadth, I was breathing in deeply, flexing, lying back on the bed, that rude, rasping boy, I had escaped in prison term ... in metre for this ! My pes were up now, and spread apart, thinking of him pushing me down, grabbing at my bosom, but he had n't tried for my waist..not there, just at that, AH ! ..special smirch, where my finger's breadth were probing and stroking ... what if he had done that ... This was too much for me and my leg sprang together, holding my fingers ... too, vivid ... too good for words. My legs pushed my finger's breadth inside. I opened them again ... thought of all this ... his hundred paw had n't gotten at my waist ... he might have made me add up ! He could have fucked me ... could possess ...

I avoided that rude boy after the time in the bowling alley. Made certainly I got home early for some introspection. Then one afternoon I stayed late at school day to see my teacher for a writing evaluation ... it was almost night outside when our group meeting began. I entered the classroom and there he sat ... English people was a bore-hole and writing a task and a passing grade 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 oeuvre ... I was n't a writer ... '' flavor here, '' he said and I walked around to his side of the desk. `` Punctuation. '' `` What about it ? '' I asked. He pointed to several spots and I bent over for a secretive spirit and closer to him ... his pointing arm against my English. He had a cologne ... '' What cologne is that ? '' I asked. `` Hmm ... I do n't be intimate. '' `` 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 handwriting went under my dress, fingers to my wet quim ... I could n't help squirming ...

It was my deary dress with plait below the waist ... Just a school clothes but nice. Sexy. `` You 're a sexy girl, '' he said. `` You know that, do n't you. '' I just smiled and waited for a c manus all exploring me. I had the nicest bosom in class, I knew that, I wondered if I was first in the category between my leg ... it sure felt like I was ... UH ! ... the manus were stroking me now. He yanked down my knickerbockers and I felt cool and hot at the Same time. My wooden leg moved apart. They could n't help oneself it. He bent me across his shank. `` You 're a sexy, dirty lilliputian girl. '' His lyric were stinging and stimulate and he lifted my dress. More handling ... and then a whack on my ass ... '' 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 stern ... spanking me again as I moved against his manus. `` Sit on me, '' he said, lifting me away from his lap. He pulled my ramification apart, feeling up my second joint and I sat on him ... I leaned my head on his shoulder, shivering, not from the coldness ... from the heat and look of his hundred digit and my waist moving to get more, experience more, breath more ... I was gulping for air as he said dingy run-in in my ear ... I was his `` wet puss '' his `` dirty cunt '' his `` minuscule tart '' I was a dancer too, my waist dancing on his fingers ... then I said `` Stop. '' `` Stop. It 's too ... much. '' and he held me there. I did n't feel dirty at all. My little physical structure parts clinging to his fingerbreadth ... resting, relieved, washed and clean 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 shoulder joint as he touched and explored, thrilling me and I pulled on his custody at my waist ... it was so quiet in school ... so quiet. I think he liked my committal to writing technique. I got a passing grade. I learned a variety of lesson. I got to thinking, on many nights, about the two guys. They were both rough, one grabbing, one spanking. Very different but the Saami resolution ... they got me going. The spanking though was best. The teacher would hit my bottom and then rest his script on me, moving it around, like soothing the pelt he had hit and then spanking me again, smoothing again. It stung each clip but I forgot about the insect bite and waited for his soothing touch. Then I was raising my rump, opening to his touch when the medallion of his helping hand slid on my sassing, digit dipping ... I put my hired man back ... I was all puffed and wet and the palm of his hand made me shake and affect on it ... then he would rest his hand and play with me, his fingers sliding up and down as I lifted more and he made me come on his fingers, my puss in the palm of his hand, my brass on his knees. He felt my hot cheek and my breathing on him ... it seemed like hours but it was proceedings and I hoped he would check my theme some time soon ...

nighttime after night I went to sleep with these conflicting dreams ... spanking, searching manus, disgusting hands forcing me down ... it all put me to slumber ... after I had thought it all through ... it was the combination of infliction followed by intense pleasance ... awaking with the slap, ignited by the finger probing ... I could almost make out just by thinking about it ... of a c hands I only needed my digit .