A `` Great '' Guy ... the illegitimate child Growing up by phyllisroger

He walked along English after school was out ... me with my splendid visibility, I thought, and what did I know ... we were teenager after all ... each of us at stage of development in school ... but I was ahead of the socio-economic class, in History, too ... but you know what I mean. I was the magnet of the boy, mostly immature ... admiring me and a few other little girl from afar ... I was lucky ... my breasts were easily the nicest at school ... it was a silent thing we all knew ... mine were the best and the others were trying to get up.

What breasts meant we were n't sure but we were trusted they meant something n.i.c.e. boob were the key to a boy 's mettle, and his prick, and being popular and then, each day, school was out and we were all on our way home ... one guy form 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 ... '' hail on ! '' he said and pushed me to the English ... '' point, '' I said ... '' Why ? '' `` I do n't have a go at it, just stop ! '' I said.



Well, as guy cable do, or do n't, he did n't kibosh and pushed me to the side ... down along a slope street and then down to the background ... '' Come on, '' he said ... '' Let me go, '' I cried as he pushed me down and now he was like one hundred deal ... I did n't know a guy could have so many paw and they were all on me. I said, `` point '' again but he did n't.

As I was developing, I naturally admired my breasts ... my early self-examinations ... and checked them out without end ... each curve ball and shape as they grew ... the folding, tried dissimilar bras, checked the pap which were sensitive and antiphonal ... and here was this guy with one hundred hands exploring ... it was different than introspection ... my mamilla were hard before he grabbed ... and I turned at him when he was there ... his mouth on mine ... '' You are a little vamper, '' he said .... '' I 've watched you parading around for us ... '' Maybe I had and he was all over me ... '' block off 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 wearing apparel up, straightening my bra strap ... he had gotten me ... the bastard ... my cheek was red, my whole body was flushed, I stood in front of the mirror and looked myself over ... belief, exploring -- -two custody, ten finger's breadth -- not the rough hundred handed boy -- I was still aflame with the mo, nipples strong and sensitive to my cutaneous senses, my flesh had cuckoo bumps 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 hint, the house quiet, the front door double locked. My second joint were so very smooth but my hands were setting me on flame. I could n't preserve them off myself and petted and wetted and squeezed on them at my shank ... slow effort, squeezing, releasing, my picayune lips and finger, I was breathing in deeply, flexing, lying back on the bed, that rude, rough boy, I had escaped in time ... in time for this ! My substructure 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 post, 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, intense ... too good for quarrel. My peg pushed my digit inside. I opened them again ... thought of all this ... his hundred hand had n't gotten at my waist ... he might hold made me get ! He could have fucked me ... could take in ...

I avoided that rude boy after the time in the alley. Made sure I got home early for some self-examination. Then one afternoon I stayed late at schooltime to see my teacher for a composition evaluation ... it was almost dark outside when our group meeting began. I entered the schoolroom and there he sat ... English was a bore and writing a chore and a exit class was barely in sight 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 employment ... I was n't a author ... '' Look here, '' he said and I walked around to his face of the desk. `` punctuation mark. '' `` What about it ? '' I asked. He pointed to various musca volitans and I bent over for a cheeseparing aspect and closer to him ... his pointing arm against my side. He had a Koln ... '' 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 bridge player went under my dress, fingers to my wet quim ... I could n't help squirming ...

It was my favorite dress with pleats below the waist ... Just a schooling frock but squeamish. Sexy. `` You 're a aphrodisiacal miss, '' he said. `` You know that, do n't you. '' I just smiled and waited for a 100 hands all exploring me. I had the nicest breasts in class, I knew that, I wondered if I was first in the class between my legs ... it trusted felt like I was ... UH ! ... the hired man were stroking me now. He yanked down my knickers and I felt nerveless and hot at the Lapp time. My stage moved apart. They could n't assist it. He bent me across his waist. `` You 're a sexy, dirty piffling lady friend. '' His words were stinging and shake and he lifted my attire. More handling ... and then a rap on my bottom ... '' 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 rear ... 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 headland on his shoulder joint, shivering, not from the cold ... from the heat and feelings of his hundred fingers and my waist moving to get more, feel more, breath more ... I was gulping for air as he said dirty Logos in my ear ... I was his `` wet cunt '' his `` soil cunt '' his `` little prostitute '' I was a dancer too, my waist dancing on his finger's breadth ... then I said `` Stop. '' `` occlusive. It 's too ... much. '' and he held me there. I did n't find dirty at all. My little soundbox parts clinging to his fingers ... resting, relieved, washed and light is what I felt.

I was on my bed now at home, lying back, dream, in my dream he was doing the work, stroking, petting, just ... AH ! ... just there and I was flexing hard and my pass back on his shoulder as he touched and explored, thrilling me and I pulled on his hands at my waist ... it was so tranquillise in school ... so quiet. I think he liked my writing technique. I got a passing grade. I learned a kind of lesson. I got to thinking, on many dark, about the two guys. They were both rough, one grabbing, one spanking. Very different but the Same result ... they got me going. The alert though was best. The instructor would hit my bottom and then catch one's breath his mitt 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 pang and waited for his soothing tinge. Then I was raising my behind, opening to his touch when the laurel wreath of his hand slid on my mouth, fingers dipping ... I put my hired hand back ... I was all puffed and wet and the palm tree of his deal made me sway and make a motion on it ... then he would rest his hand and play with me, his fingerbreadth sliding up and down as I lifted more and he made me come on his fingers, my cunt in the medallion of his hand, my impudence on his knee joint. He felt my hot face and my breathing on him ... it seemed the likes of hours but it was minutes and I hoped he would check my paper some time soon ...

Night after Night I went to sleep with these conflicting dreaming ... spanking, searching hands, disgusting hands forcing me down ... it all put me to sleep ... after I had thought it all through ... it was the combination of pain followed by intense pleasure ... awaking with the slap, ignited by the fingers probing ... I could almost come just by thinking about it ... of a hundred helping hand I only needed my finger .