A `` Great '' Guy ... the Bastard 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 teenagers after all ... each of us at point of development in schoolhouse ... but I was ahead of the class, in chronicle, too ... but you know what I mean. I was the magnet of the boys, mostly immature ... admiring me and a few other girl from afar ... I was prosperous ... my knocker were easily the nicest at schooling ... it was a silent thing we all knew ... mine were the sound and the others were trying to catch up.

What breasts meant we were n't sure but we were sure they meant something n.i.c.e. Breasts were the key to a boy 's heart, and his putz, 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 house ... '' 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 position ... '' Stop, '' I said ... '' Why ? '' `` I do n't know, just stop ! '' I said.



Well, as Guy do, or do n't, he did n't stop and crusade me to the side ... down along a face street and then down to the undercoat ... '' Come on, '' he said ... '' Let me go, '' I cried as he pushed me down and now he was like one hundred work force ... I did n't know a guy could have so many hands and they were all on me. I said, `` Stop '' again but he did n't.

As I was developing, I naturally admired my bosom ... my betimes self-examinations ... and checked them out without end ... each curvature and material body as they grew ... the folds, tried unlike bras, checked the nipples which were raw and responsive ... and here was this guy with one hundred hired hand exploring ... it was dissimilar than introspection ... my mammilla were laborious before he grabbed ... and I turned at him when he was there ... his mouthpiece on mine ... '' You are a little annoyer, '' he said .... '' I 've watched you parading around for us ... '' Maybe I had and he was all over me ... '' hold back 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 place ... pulling my blouse down, my dress up, straightening my bra straps ... he had gotten me ... the bastard ... my face was red, my completely body was flushed, I stood in strawman of the mirror and looked myself over ... tone, exploring -- -two hands, ten fingers -- not the rough one C handed boy -- I was still aflame with the minute, nipples hard and raw to my touch, my physique had goose 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 breathing spell, the theatre quiet, the front line door duple locked. My second joint were so very smooth but my men were setting me on fire. I could n't maintain them off myself and petted and wetted and squeezed on them at my waist ... tardily effort, squeezing, releasing, my little lip 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 invertebrate foot 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 spot, where my fingers were probing and stroking ... what if he had done that ... This was too practically for me and my legs sprang together, holding my fingers ... too, acute ... too good for words. My leg pushed my fingers inside. I opened them again ... thought of all this ... his hundred script had n't gotten at my waist ... he might have made me come ! He could make fucked me ... could have ...

I avoided that rude boy after the time in the alley. Made sure I got home early for some self-contemplation. Then one afternoon I stayed late at school day to see my teacher for a save evaluation ... it was almost dismal outside when our encounter began. I entered the schoolroom and there he sat ... side was a 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 work. '' I nodded ... I mean obviously it needed workplace ... I was n't a writer ... '' looking at here, '' he said and I walked around to his side of the desk. `` punctuation. '' `` What about it ? '' I asked. He pointed to several spots and I bent over for a close-fitting flavour 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 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 hand went under my dress, fingers to my wet quim ... I could n't help squirming ...

It was my dearie dress with pleats below the waist ... Just a schooling frock but gracious. Sexy. `` You 're a sexy fille, '' he said. `` You know that, do n't you. '' I just smiled and waited for a hundred hands all exploring me. I had the dainty breasts in course of instruction, I knew that, I wondered if I was first in the year between my leg ... it sure felt like I was ... UH ! ... the paw were stroking me now. He yanked down my breeches and I felt nerveless and hot at the Lapplander time. My peg moved apart. They could n't help it. He bent me across his waistline. `` You 're a sexy, dirty piffling little girl. '' His tidings were stinging and exciting and he lifted my dress. More handling ... and then a belt 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 bottom ... spanking me again as I moved against his handwriting. `` Sit on me, '' he said, lifting me away from his lap. He pulled my branch apart, feeling up my thighs and I sat on him ... I leaned my head on his shoulder joint, shivering, not from the cold ... from the heat and feelings of his one hundred digit and my waistline moving to get Thomas More, palpate more, breath more ... I was gulping for air as he said dirty words in my ear ... I was his `` wet bitch '' his `` dirty cunt '' his `` little tart '' I was a dancer too, my shank dancing on his fingerbreadth ... then I said `` full stop. '' `` stop consonant. It 's too ... much. '' and he held me there. I did n't feel dirty at all. My little body parts clinging to his finger ... resting, relieved, washed and fairly is what I felt.

I was on my bed now at house, lying back, dream, in my ambition he was doing the workplace, stroking, petting, just ... AH ! ... just there and I was flexing hard and my head back on his articulatio humeri as he touched and explored, thrilling me and I pulled on his hands at my shank ... it was so quiet in school ... so subdued. I think he liked my penning technique. I got a release grade. I learned a kind of lesson. I got to thinking, on many nighttime, about the two guys. 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 bottom and then rest his deal on me, moving it around, like soothing the hide 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 hint. Then I was raising my rump, opening to his speck when the ribbon of his hired man slid on my sassing, finger dipping ... I put my hired man back ... I was all puffed and wet and the ribbon of his hand made me shake and move on it ... then he would lie his hand and swordplay with me, his fingers sliding up and down as I lifted more and he made me total on his fingers, my slit in the laurel wreath of his bridge player, my cheek on his genu. He felt my hot cheek and my breathing on him ... it seemed like minute but it was minutes and I hoped he would check my paper some time soon ...

nighttime after night I went to sleep with these conflicting dreams ... spanking, searching hands, disgusting manus 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 digit probing ... I could almost come just by thinking about it ... of a 100 hands I only needed my digit .