A `` Great '' Guy ... the prick 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 stage of ontogenesis in schooling ... 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 squeamish at schooltime ... it was a silent thing 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 sure they meant something n.i.c.e. Breasts were the key to a boy 's eye, and his cock, and being democratic 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 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 slope ... '' stay, '' I said ... '' Why ? '' `` I do n't know, just discontinue ! '' I said.



well, as guy wire do, or do n't, he did n't block up and pushed me to the side ... down along a face street and then down to the ground ... '' 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 know a guy could induce so many men and they were all on me. I said, `` plosive speech sound '' again but he did n't.

As I was developing, I naturally admired my knocker ... my betimes self-examination ... and checked them out without end ... each curve and shape as they grew ... the folds, tried different brassiere, checked the pap which were sensitive and responsive ... and here was this guy with one hundred bridge player exploring ... it was different than introspection ... my mammilla were hard before he grabbed ... and I turned at him when he was there ... his lip on mine ... '' You are a piffling 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 custody and he let me up and I went home ... pulling my blouse down, my garb up, straightening my bra straps ... he had gotten me ... the bastard ... my face was red, my whole body was flushed, I stood in movement of the mirror and looked myself over ... tactual sensation, exploring -- -two deal, ten finger -- not the rough one C handed boy -- I was still aflame with the second, nipples hard and sensible to my touch, my flesh had goose blow but I petted myself down, smoothing my pot and my footling hairs..calming, soothing. I sat at the edge of my bed, still catching my breather, the house tranquillity, the front door double locked. My thighs were so very smooth but my work force were setting me on blast. I could n't keep them off myself and petted and wetted and squeezed on them at my waist ... slow effort, squeezing, releasing, my little lips and fingers, 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 groundwork were up now, and spread apart, thinking of him pushing me down, grabbing at my knocker, but he had n't tried for my waist..not there, just at that, AH ! ..special office, where my digit were probing and stroking ... what if he had done that ... This was too much for me and my legs sprang together, holding my fingerbreadth ... too, vivid ... too good for words. My legs pushed my fingers inside. I opened them again ... thought of all this ... his one C manpower had n't gotten at my waist ... he might have made me fare ! He could consume fucked me ... could receive ...

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 school to see my teacher for a writing rating ... it was almost morose outside when our confluence began. I entered the classroom and there he sat ... English was a tidal bore and writing a chore and a passing grad 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 piece of 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 face of the desk. `` Punctuation. '' `` What about it ? '' I asked. He pointed to several spots and I bent over for a nigher aspect and closer to him ... his pointing arm against my side. He had a cologne ... '' What cologne water is that ? '' I asked. `` Hmm ... I do n't have sex. '' `` 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 hand went under my dress, fingerbreadth to my wet quim ... I could n't aid squirming ...

It was my favourite wearing apparel with pleats below the waistline ... Just a school dress but gracious. Sexy. `` You 're a sexy female child, '' he said. `` You know that, do n't you. '' I just smiled and waited for a 100 work force all exploring me. I had the nicest breast in class, I knew that, I wondered if I was first in the class between my legs ... it sure felt like I was ... UH ! ... the hands were stroking me now. He yanked down my bloomers and I felt assuredness and hot at the same time. My legs moved apart. They could n't serve it. He bent me across his waist. `` You 're a sexy, grime little young woman. '' His words were stinging and exciting and he lifted my dress. More handling ... and then a knock on my bottom ... '' You should be spanked because you 're dingy, '' he said and he spanked me again ... pushing me against his leg. Now he was massaging my fanny ... spanking me again as I moved against his manus. `` Sit on me, '' he said, lifting me away from his lap. He pulled my pegleg apart, feeling up my thighs and I sat on him ... I leaned my head on his berm, shivering, not from the cold ... from the heat and feelings of his c fingers and my waist moving to get more, sense more, hint more ... I was gulping for air as he said grime parole in my ear ... I was his `` wet cunt '' his `` dingy cunt '' his `` little cyprian '' I was a dancer too, my waistline dancing on his fingers ... then I said `` plosive consonant. '' `` Stop. It 's too ... much. '' and he held me there. I did n't feel dirty at all. My little body section clinging to his fingers ... resting, relieved, washed and clean is what I felt.

I was on my bed now at plate, 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 berm as he touched and explored, thrilling me and I pulled on his hired man at my shank ... it was so quiet in schooling ... so quiet. I think he liked my composition technique. I got a passage grade. I learned a form of lesson. I got to thinking, on many nighttime, about the two guy. They were both rough, one grabbing, one spanking. Very different but the same result ... they got me going. The spanking though was best. The teacher would hit my fanny and then rest his hand on me, moving it around, like soothing the cutis he had hit and then spanking me again, smoothing again. It stung each time but I forgot about the bunco and waited for his soothing touch. Then I was raising my rump, opening to his touch when the palm of his deal slid on my lips, fingerbreadth dipping ... I put my manus back ... I was all puffed and wet and the medallion of his hand made me shake and move on it ... then he would take a breather his handwriting and play with me, his fingers 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 cheek on his stifle. He felt my hot brass and my breathing on him ... it seemed the likes of hours but it was minutes and I hoped he would mark my papers some time soon ...

Night after nighttime I went to catch some Z's with these conflicting dreams ... spanking, searching handwriting, disgusting deal forcing me down ... it all put me to catch some Z's ... after I had thought it all through ... it was the combination of pain followed by intense pleasure ... awaking with the smacking, ignited by the digit probing ... I could almost number just by thinking about it ... of a hundred manus I only needed my fingerbreadth .