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

He walked along side 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 point of development in schoolhouse ... but I was ahead of the class, in account, too ... but you know what I mean. I was the attractive feature of the male child, mostly immature ... admiring me and a few other miss from afar ... I was golden ... my boob were easily the nicest at school ... it was a dumb thing we all knew ... mine were the intimately and the others were trying to take hold of up.

What breasts meant we were n't sure as shooting but we were sure they meant something n.i.c.e. Breasts were the key to a boy 's heart, and his dick, and being pop and then, each day, school was out and we were all on our way home base ... 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 ... '' fare on ! '' he said and pushed me to the position ... '' check, '' I said ... '' Why ? '' `` I do n't recognize, just blockade ! '' I said.



Well, as guys do, or do n't, he did n't block off and labor me to the side ... down along a side street and then down to the priming coat ... '' 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 do it a guy could have so many mitt and they were all on me. I said, `` layover '' again but he did n't.

As I was developing, I naturally admired my titty ... my ahead of time self-contemplation ... and checked them out without end ... each breaking ball and shape as they grew ... the folds, tried different bras, checked the tit which were sensitive and responsive ... and here was this guy with one hundred manus exploring ... it was dissimilar than introspection ... my nipples were hard before he grabbed ... and I turned at him when he was there ... his mouthpiece on mine ... '' You are a fiddling tease, '' he said .... '' I 've watched you parading around for us ... '' Maybe I had and he was all over me ... '' intercept 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 strap ... he had gotten me ... the son of a bitch ... my face was red, my unharmed organic structure was flushed, I stood in social movement of the mirror and looked myself over ... feeling, exploring -- -two helping hand, ten finger's breadth -- not the rough in hundred handed boy -- I was still aflame with the import, nipples hard and sensitive to my touch modality, my build had bozo prominence but I petted myself down, smoothing my tummy and my little hairs..calming, soothing. I sat at the border of my bed, still catching my breath, the business firm quiet, the front threshold double up locked. My thigh were so very smooth but my custody were setting me on fire. I could n't keep them off myself and petted and wetted and squeezed on them at my waistline ... slow apparent motion, squeezing, releasing, my little lip and fingers, I was breathing in deeply, flexing, lying back on the bed, that rude, rocky boy, I had escaped in time ... in prison term for this ! My understructure were up now, and spread apart, thinking of him pushing me down, grabbing at my white meat, but he had n't tried for my waist..not there, just at that, AH ! ..special smear, where my fingers were probing and stroking ... what if he had done that ... This was too a good deal for me and my pegleg sprang together, holding my fingers ... too, intense ... too good for words. My legs pushed my finger's breadth inside. I opened them again ... mentation of all this ... his C script had n't gotten at my waist ... he might get made me come up ! He could have fucked me ... could birth ...

I avoided that rude boy after the time in the bowling alley. Made sure I got home early for some introspection. Then one afternoon I stayed late at school to see my teacher for a writing evaluation ... it was almost iniquity outside when our meeting began. I entered the classroom and there he sat ... English was a eager and writing a task and a going grade was barely in sight 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 author ... '' smell here, '' he said and I walked around to his side of meat of the desk. `` punctuation mark. '' `` What about it ? '' I asked. He pointed to several pip and I bent over for a tight look and closer to him ... his pointing arm against my side. He had a cologne ... '' What Koln is that ? '' I asked. `` Hmm ... I do n't experience. '' `` 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 hired hand went under my dress, finger to my wet quim ... I could n't help squirming ...

It was my favorite dress with pleats below the waist ... Just a school dress but courteous. Sexy. `` You 're a sexy fille, '' he said. `` You know that, do n't you. '' I just smiled and waited for a c deal all exploring me. I had the skillful titty in class, I knew that, I wondered if I was first in the grade between my peg ... it sure enough felt like I was ... UH ! ... the hand were stroking me now. He yanked down my knickers and I felt assuredness and hot at the same prison term. My stage moved apart. They could n't help it. He bent me across his shank. `` You 're a sexy, contaminating slight miss. '' His words were stinging and exciting and he lifted my apparel. More handling ... and then a whack on my rear end ... '' You should be spanked because you 're soil, '' 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 legs apart, feeling up my thigh and I sat on him ... I leaned my oral sex on his shoulder, shivering, not from the cold ... from the heat and feelings of his hundred finger and my shank moving to get to a greater extent, feel more, breath more ... I was gulping for air as he said dirty speech in my ear ... I was his `` wet twat '' his `` foul cunt '' his `` little tart '' I was a dancer too, my waistline dancing on his fingers ... then I said `` diaphragm. '' `` point. It 's too ... much. '' and he held me there. I did n't feel dirty at all. My piddling body section clinging to his fingers ... resting, relieved, washed and plum 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 as he touched and explored, thrilling me and I pulled on his hands at my waist ... it was so subdued in schooling ... so quiet. I think he liked my authorship technique. I got a loss grade. I learned a sort of lesson. I got to thinking, on many Night, about the two guy cable. They were both rough, one grabbing, one spanking. Very different but the same result ... they got me going. The snappy though was best. The teacher would hit my bottom and then pillow 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 tush, opening to his touch when the laurel wreath of his mitt slid on my lips, fingers dipping ... I put my handwriting back ... I was all puffed and wet and the palm of his hired hand made me shake and run on it ... then he would pillow his script and dramatic play with me, his finger's breadth sliding up and down as I lifted more and he made me issue forth on his fingers, my cunt in the palm of his helping hand, my cheek on his knees. He felt my hot buttock and my breathing on him ... it seemed like 60 minutes but it was moment and I hoped he would check into my papers some fourth dimension soon ...

Night after night I went to sleep with these conflicting ambition ... spanking, searching manpower, disgusting manpower forcing me down ... it all put me to kip ... after I had thought it all through ... it was the combination of pain in the neck followed by intense joy ... awaking with the smack, ignited by the fingerbreadth probing ... I could almost come just by thinking about it ... of a hundred bridge player I only needed my fingerbreadth .