A `` Great '' Guy ... the son of a bitch Growing up by phyllisroger

He walked along side after schooltime was out ... me with my splendid profile, I thought, and what did I know ... we were teenagers after all ... each of us at stages of development in schoolhouse ... but I was ahead of the class, in story, 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 tit were easily the nicest at school ... it was a still thing we all knew ... mine were the best and the others were trying to beguile up.

What breasts meant we were n't sure but we were sure they meant something n.i.c.e. bosom were the key to a boy 's heart, and his peter, and being popular and then, each day, shoal was out and we were all on our way home base ... one guy sort of tagged along with me, down the lane, toward my mansion ... '' Hey, '' he said to me. `` Hey, back '' I said ... and we walked along. I noticed it was just us two ... '' amount on ! '' he said and pushed me to the English ... '' Stop, '' I said ... '' Why ? '' `` I do n't bang, just give up ! '' I said.



fountainhead, as guys do, or do n't, he did n't stop and campaign me to the incline ... down along a side street and then down to the solid ground ... '' semen 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 handwriting and they were all on me. I said, `` halt '' again but he did n't.

As I was developing, I naturally admired my breasts ... my early self-contemplation ... and checked them out without end ... each curve ball and shape as they grew ... the sheepfold, tried dissimilar bras, checked the nipples which were sensitive and antiphonal ... and here was this guy with one hundred mitt exploring ... it was different than self-contemplation ... my nipples were hard 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 ... '' Stop this '' I said and sat up and he pushed me down ... '' Let me go, '' I squirmed in his mitt and he let me up and I went home ... pulling my blouse down, my attire up, straightening my bra shoulder strap ... he had gotten me ... the love child ... my face was red, my whole torso was flushed, I stood in front of the mirror and looked myself over ... tactile sensation, exploring -- -two men, ten fingers -- not the rough out C handed boy -- I was still on fire with the moment, nipples toilsome and sensitive to my touch modality, my physique had goose bumps but I petted myself down, smoothing my corporation and my little hairs..calming, soothing. I sat at the edge of my bed, still catching my hint, the house quiet, the face door repeat locked. My thighs were so very placid but my script were setting me on fire. I could n't keep them off myself and petted and wetted and squeezed on them at my waist ... dull move, squeezing, releasing, my little lips and digit, I was breathing in deeply, flexing, lying back on the bed, that rude, rough boy, I had escaped in time ... in fourth dimension for this ! My foundation 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 place, where my fingers were probing and stroking ... what if he had done that ... This was too very much for me and my legs sprang together, holding my fingers ... too, vivid ... too in force for actor's line. My legs pushed my finger inside. I opened them again ... thought process of all this ... his hundred hands had n't gotten at my waistline ... he might possess made me come ! He could have fucked me ... could birth ...

I avoided that rude boy after the fourth dimension in the alley. Made sure I got home early for some self-examination. Then one afternoon I stayed late at school to see my teacher for a writing rating ... it was almost drab outside when our confluence began. I entered the schoolroom and there he sat ... English was a bore and writing a chore and a passing grade was barely in wad 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 piece of work ... I was n't a writer ... '' Look here, '' he said and I walked around to his side of the desk. `` punctuation mark. '' `` What about it ? '' I asked. He pointed to several spots and I bent over for a faithful smell and closer to him ... his pointing arm against my position. He had a Cologne ... '' 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 dress, fingerbreadth to my wet quim ... I could n't avail squirming ...

It was my dearie dress with pleat below the waist ... Just a schoolhouse dress but overnice. Sexy. `` You 're a sexy girl, '' he said. `` You know that, do n't you. '' I just smiled and waited for a one hundred handwriting all exploring me. I had the nicest breasts in class, I knew that, I wondered if I was first in the social class between my legs ... it sure felt like I was ... UH ! ... the hands were stroking me now. He yanked down my knickers and I felt aplomb and hot at the same time. My wooden leg moved apart. They could n't help it. He bent me across his waist. `` You 're a sexy, grime petty girl. '' His wrangle were stinging and charge up and he lifted my dress. More handling ... and then a belt on my hindquarters ... '' 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 thighs and I sat on him ... I leaned my oral sex on his shoulder, shivering, not from the cold ... from the heat and belief of his C digit and my waistline moving to get more, feel more, breath more ... I was gulping for air as he said soil Book in my ear ... I was his `` wet cunt '' his `` begrime cunt '' his `` picayune cocotte '' I was a dancer too, my waist dancing on his digit ... then I said `` block. '' `` blockage. It 's too ... much. '' and he held me there. I did n't palpate dirty at all. My little physical structure office clinging to his digit ... resting, relieved, washed and clean-living 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 bridge player at my waistline ... it was so pipe down in school ... so tranquillise. I think he liked my composition technique. I got a passing grade. I learned a kind of lesson. I got to thinking, on many nights, about the two guys. They were both harsh, one grabbing, one spanking. Very different but the Lapplander resolution ... they got me going. The spank though was best. The teacher would hit my arse and then rest his script on me, moving it around, like soothing the skin he had hit and then spanking me again, smoothing again. It stung each metre but I forgot about the sting and waited for his soothing touch. Then I was raising my can, opening to his touch modality when the decoration of his manus slid on my lips, fingers dipping ... I put my hand back ... I was all puffed and wet and the palm of his paw made me didder and move on it ... then he would rest his paw and play with me, his finger's breadth sliding up and down as I lifted more and he made me come on his fingers, my cunt in the palm of his hand, my brass on his stifle. He felt my hot cheek and my external respiration on him ... it seemed like hr but it was bit and I hoped he would checker my papers some time soon ...

dark after nighttime I went to sleep with these conflicting ambition ... spanking, searching hands, disgusting hands forcing me down ... it all put me to catch some Z's ... after I had thought it all through ... it was the combination of infliction followed by vivid delight ... awaking with the slap, ignited by the fingers probing ... I could almost come just by thinking about it ... of a 100 hands I only needed my digit .