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

He walked along side after school day was out ... me with my splendid visibility, I thought, and what did I know ... we were teenager after all ... each of us at stages of development in school ... but I was ahead of the division, in History, too ... but you know what I mean. I was the attracter of the boys, mostly immature ... admiring me and a few other little girl from afar ... I was lucky ... my white meat were easily the gracious at school day ... it was a dumb thing we all knew ... mine were the best and the others were trying to catch up.

What breasts meant we were n't sure but we were for certain 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, schoolhouse was out and we were all on our way home ... one guy form 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 ... '' Come on ! '' he said and pushed me to the side ... '' Stop, '' I said ... '' Why ? '' `` I do n't know, just cease ! '' I said.



Well, as guys do, or do n't, he did n't stop and pushed me to the English ... down along a position street and then down to the soil ... '' 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 cognise a guy could experience so many hands and they were all on me. I said, `` catch '' again but he did n't.

As I was developing, I naturally admired my tit ... my early self-examinations ... and checked them out without end ... each breaking ball and shape as they grew ... the folds, tried different bra, checked the mamilla which were spiritualist and reactive ... and here was this guy with one hundred workforce exploring ... it was different than self-examination ... my nipples were concentrated before he grabbed ... and I turned at him when he was there ... his mouth on mine ... '' You are a little flirt, '' 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 rest home ... pulling my blouse down, my frock up, straightening my bra straps ... he had gotten me ... the whoreson ... my brass was red, my unhurt body was flushed, I stood in front of the mirror and looked myself over ... tone, exploring -- -two hired hand, ten fingerbreadth -- not the rasping hundred handed boy -- I was still aflame with the moment, nipples hard and sensitive to my touch, my flesh had goose protrusion but I petted myself down, smoothing my tummy and my little hairs..calming, soothing. I sat at the bound of my bed, still catching my breath, the firm subdued, the front end door double locked. My second joint were so very smooth out but my hands were setting me on flack. I could n't observe them off myself and petted and wetted and squeezed on them at my waist ... tardily movement, squeezing, releasing, my piddling lips and fingers, I was breathing in deeply, flexing, lying back on the bed, that rude, rough boy, I had escaped in metre ... 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 situation, where my fingers were probing and stroking ... what if he had done that ... This was too lots for me and my legs sprang together, holding my fingers ... too, vivid ... too soundly for discussion. My leg pushed my fingers inside. I opened them again ... thought of all this ... his hundred hands had n't gotten at my waist ... he might stimulate made me do ! He could accept fucked me ... could make ...

I avoided that rude boy after the time in the alleyway. 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 dreary outside when our meeting began. I entered the classroom and there he sat ... English people was a calibre and writing a chore and a passing game grade was barely in heap 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 work ... I was n't a writer ... '' expression here, '' he said and I walked around to his side of the desk. `` punctuation mark. '' `` What about it ? '' I asked. He pointed to several fleck and I bent over for a finisher look and closer to him ... his pointing arm against my side. He had a cologne ... '' What Cologne is that ? '' I asked. `` Hmm ... I do n't hump. '' `` 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 helping hand went under my dress, fingers to my wet quim ... I could n't avail squirming ...

It was my favourite dress with pleat below the waist ... Just a school day attire but skillful. Sexy. `` You 're a sexy girl, '' he said. `` You know that, do n't you. '' I just smiled and waited for a hundred handwriting all exploring me. I had the nicest breasts in class, I knew that, I wondered if I was first in the class between my peg ... it trusted felt like I was ... UH ! ... the hands were stroking me now. He yanked down my knickers and I felt cool and hot at the Lapp time. My legs moved apart. They could n't avail it. He bent me across his shank. `` You 're a sexy, unsportsmanlike piffling little girl. '' His dustup were stinging and exciting and he lifted my dress. More manipulation ... and then a rap on my bottom ... '' You should be spanked because you 're lousy, '' 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 branch apart, feeling up my thigh and I sat on him ... I leaned my header on his shoulder, shivering, not from the cold ... from the heating system and intuitive feeling of his century fingers and my shank moving to get More, find more, breathing time more ... I was gulping for air as he said dirty Bible in my ear ... I was his `` wet cunt '' his `` dirty pussy '' his `` piddling tart '' I was a dancer too, my waist dancing on his fingers ... then I said `` Stop. '' `` arrest. It 's too ... much. '' and he held me there. I did n't feel dirty at all. My little consistency parts clinging to his finger ... resting, relieved, washed and clean is what I felt.

I was on my bed now at home, lying back, dreaming, in my ambition 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 mitt at my waist ... it was so quiet in shoal ... so quiet. I think he liked my writing technique. I got a passing course. I learned a kind of moral. I got to thinking, on many Night, about the two guys. They were both gravelly, one grabbing, one spanking. Very unlike but the same final result ... they got me going. The spanking though was best. The teacher would hit my bed and then remain 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 tinge. Then I was raising my ass, opening to his touch when the medallion of his hand slid on my lips, digit dipping ... I put my helping hand back ... I was all puffed and wet and the palm of his mitt made me shake and run on it ... then he would reside his paw and gambol with me, his digit sliding up and down as I lifted more and he made me come on his fingers, my cunt in the laurel wreath of his hand, my nerve on his knee joint. He felt my hot boldness and my breathing on him ... it seemed the like hours but it was moment and I hoped he would check my document some time soon ...

dark after nighttime I went to kip with these conflicting dream ... spanking, searching hands, disgusting hands forcing me down ... it all put me to sleep ... after I had thought it all through ... it was the combining of pain followed by intense pleasure ... awaking with the slap, ignited by the fingerbreadth probing ... I could almost come just by thinking about it ... of a hundred hands I only needed my fingers .