GC-1003 Free For All Cheerleader
by Victoria Parker


FOREWORD

The process of growing up and passing through adolescence has been 
characterized by greater inner turmoil, uncertainty, and tremendous 
pressures from family, close friends, and peer groups. Certainly, in our 
complex society, the problems youths face now seem more marked than ever 
before.

Priscilla Holt is a teenager embarking on her own special journey into 
adolescence. She finds herself plagued by powerful emotions, sometimes 
feeling uncertain about her awakening sexuality, sometimes becoming angered
over her youthful misjudgments. Nonetheless, she must learn to cope with 
her surroundings and new friends.

FREE FOR ALL CHEERLEADER the story of a typical young American girl �
coming of age. A lesson to us all and a reminder that the journey to 
adulthood is not easy.

 The Publisher �


CHAPTER ONE

It was the summer before her last year at Bradford Academy, and Priscilla
Holt had filled out so that her young body was shaped and curvy.

Prissy had just turned eighteen. She had long blonde hair that she wore 
in bangs hung down to the top of her eyes. The long blonde locks hung 
straight around the sides of her face, down to her shoulders on the sides 
and in the back. Her beautiful face had a square cut to it, the bone 
structure perfect, to give her well formed cheeks, small thick lips, a pert
little nose, a square chin, and pretty blue eyes.

She had driven to the Holiday Inn and had snuck in to use the pool. She 
had parked in the lot, then just walked in through a doorway to the pool.

She wanted to do some swimming, but most of all to polish up her deep 
summer tan for school, which was set to start in a week.

Prissy wore a slinky, black, one-piece swimsuit that hugged her fine body
like cellophane. The slick black suit had two black straps over her 
shoulders, lifting the precious push of her teenette tits, which bulged out
like two hard baseballs.

The suit slithered down her sides to her trim, but curvy hips and the 
slope of her marvelous young ass, which was round and jellybean-tight.

She laid a towel over a pool-lounger and lay back, her legs, tanned, 
smooth, finely tapered, stretched out, and the black suit crunched in 
around her cunt like a tight glove.

Prissy fluffed her blonde hair out behind her, put on sunglasses, and 
luxuriated in the warm rays of the bright sun.

She saw a man appear from one of the rooms next to the pool. He wore a 
blue, boxer-type suit. He was tall, tanned, trim, handsome. He had sandy 
hair, a hairy chest, and a rugged, manly face. In one hand he had a drink, 
in the other a copy of a newspaper. He lounged back in a chair and set his 
drink on a table next to him.

Priscilla saw him look over at her. His eyes seemed to stay glued to her 
for the longest time, and she liked his stare, feeling a little tingle 
ripple through her, because Prissy liked men to look at her, admire her. 
She actually got turned on by a man’s hot stare.

The handsome man kept looking at her luscious young body. He couldn’t 
tell that Prissy was watching him because of her dark sunglasses and the 
way she held her head. It looked like she had her eyes closed, or might be 
dozing.

Prissy wiggled slowly in the chair, let her legs fall wider apart.

The man sipped his drink and kept watching.

Prissy saw a bulge rise in his swimsuit. This really excited the young 
lass.

Her cunt itched and creamed the crotch of her tight, black suit. She 
cocked one knee up, let it fall outward, and gave the man a straight-on 
look at the black crotch of her suit.

She could see him tremble. He gulped his drink down and set it on the 
table again. His hand dropped to his lap, and Prissy could see him palm the
curl of his large erection. Then he removed his hand quickly.

God, Prissy thought, I think he just squeezed his prick!

He had, of course, still not knowing that the young girl was watching him
as intently as he was gawking at her. A buzz of electricity zipped between 
them.

Prissy decided to get up, go in the pool and show off a little for the 
older, handsome businessman. She got up, turned and bent over her lounger. 
The black suit screeched in on the cheeks of her dream-girl ass.

Her long blonde hair hung sexily on her tanned shoulders, and she was 
bent over salaciously so that her ass arched out in a fetching curve.

The man looked around, saw they were the only ones at the pool, and he 
squeezed his throbbing erection again.

Prissy turned around and walked, her delicious, young hips swinging, her 
lovely tight ass waving, to the diving board. She mounted it and stood for 
a moment in all her teenaged splendor.

She arched and dived, her body curling, then knifing into the blue water.
She came up near the other end, then swam around for a moment and got out. 
She went back to her chair and toweled herself.

The man’s prick pushed up now, like maybe he had a hammer in his suit or 
something. Prissy smiled. He smiled sheepishly back.

There wasn’t anything he could do to hide his indecent exposure. His cock
simply thumped and wobbled in his tight suit.

Prissy lay back, spreading her legs wide, then ran her hand down her 
tight belly, curved her palm and slid it down between her legs and off her 
pussy.

The man got up. His suit stuck out obscenely. He held the newspaper in 
front of him as he walked over to Prissy.

“Hello.” He smiled, his tanned, handsome face wrinkling in manly allure.

“Hi,” Prissy said, dipping her glasses on her sweet nose, looking up.

“I’m Jeff Lake,” he said.

“Priscilla Holt.”

They stood in silence for a moment, him sheepishly holding the paper in 
front of his suit.

“Guess we’re the only ones around the pool, huh?” Prissy said.

“Well, it’s early, and most of the people who stay come in after five. 
It’s not quite five.”

Again silence, then he said, “I’m in room one-oh-five, right over there 
by the pool. Would you like to come over and have a drink?”

“Uh, well… I better not, thanks. I have to… ” Prissy was going to say, 
get home, but then she stopped. “I I don’t think so.” �

“Well, drop in if you change your mind, you’re a beautiful young lady and
I’d like to get to know you better.”

“Thanks, Mr. Lake.” Prissy smiled.

He turned and went to his room.

Prissy lay there thinking about having a drink with him. She just didn’t 
know that much about men. Even though she had just turned a ripe eighteen, 
she had been attending an all-girls school, and she had never had many 
dates, and very little contact with boys. She was indeed a pretty little 
virgin.

But still, she tingled all over from the experience of getting Mr. Lake 
hot and turned on. She loved to see men get excited over her, and whenever 
she had the chance, without getting in trouble or being overly 
exhibitionistic, she did it.

“He had such a big boner on,” she whispered to herself, as she lay in the
sun. “I wonder how old he is. He looked in his late thirties.”

She lay for a few moments more, then thought: Why not? Why not go to his 
room? He seemed nice. And he was so handsome, and he did get all excited 
over her.

Prissy got up, filled her purse with her sun-tan lotion, her glasses and 
things, then walked to the room. She tapped on the door.

“I changed my mind,” she said, when Jeff appeared, still in his suit.

“Good.” He smiled. “I have some Jack Daniels, will water or Coke be 
okay?”

Prissy had sipped beer before, but she’d never had any hard stuff. “With 
Coke.”

He fixed the drinks, then he walked to her.

Prissy noted that his cock was still about half hard in his suit, but 
certainly not bulging and spiking it out as it had before.

Prissy accepted her drink and sipped at it. Mmmmm, not too bad, she 
thought.

He sat down on the bed, she in a chair across from him. The furnishings 
were white white bedspread, white leather chairs. She looked gorgeous �
sitting in her tight, black suit.

She had another sip of Jack Daniels.

“You’re staying here?” he asked.

“Ah, well, sort of.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Prissy had another gulp of her drink.

“And what do you do, Priscilla?”

“You can call me Prissy,” she said. “Do, Sir?”

“You know… work… for a living?”

“Oh, well… ah, Pm a student, Mr. Lake.”

“I see,” he said.

“You, Sir?” she asked, quickly changing the subject, and again noting how
he gawked at her, and how his suit started to rise again, almost like 
someone was pumping up a balloon in his crotch.

“I work in sales for Butler Oil,” he said. “I travel the Southwest, the 
Midwest. Seems Pm always on the road, but the money is excellent.”

Prissy had finished her drink and hadn’t realized how easily it went 
down, but she felt a slight buzz click in.

“Let me fix you another one,” he said, jumping off the bed, his cock 
wiggling in his suit.

“Well, okay.” Prissy smiled.

He came back with another Jack and Coke. He stood near her. His cock was 
a lewd pipe now. Prissy looked at the spiked bulge, up his trim belly, from
his belly button to his hairy chest, his rugged face.

“Pm sorry,” he whispered. “Uh, I… well, it’s… “

He nodded down at his massive erection.

Prissy sipped the drink, feeling a little drunk now. She smiled 
innocently.

He bent over to kiss her. His lips touched hers tenderly.

“Ah, no… better not,” Prissy said, turning her head away.

The front of his suit was all wet from his squirting erection. Prissy 
gulped when she saw the damp spot. Then he suddenly tugged at his suit and 
stripped it down. His enormous prick popped out, leaped from the confines 
of the tight suit, banged against his belly, wobbled spasmodically and spit
out a chunk of cum that splashed to the floor at Prissy’s sandals.

CHAPTER TWO

“Ah, oh!” Prissy cried.

His prick was the first she’d ever seen. A twinge of fright and 
excitement rattled through her. The stalk of his cock was long, smooth, 
almost like marble, at least nine full inches, and it was thick, round like
a cucumber. The tip of his cock was deep red and glistening.

“I’m sorry!” he gulped. “I can’t stand it!”

“Oh, jeez, Mr. Lake!” Prissy gulped, her eyes fastened to his throbbing 
cock.

He’d taken the chance, now he was waiting to see if the young girl was 
going to scream, flee for her life, or what. He stood over her.

She stared at his massive prick, then looked up into his face, then back 
to his cock.

Prissy was thinking: What should I do? Should I scream? Run for my life? 
Or what?

But the sight of the beautiful prick had her mesmerized. His cock looked 
so strong, so good, so manly, a splendid attraction for her innocent, young
eyes.

Mr. Lake clutched his big erection, his hand wrapping around the stalk. 
He squeezed, then he pumped in and out.

“Oh, God!” Prissy gasped.

He stood over her, slowly stroking his big cock.

Prissy thrilled to the way he looked. She squirmed in the chair. She was 
frightened, but excited, half drunk, and trembling all over.

“Ah, I oughta leave maybe,” she whispered.

“I don’t want you to!” he whined.

His hand kept a slow jerk going on his handsome prick.

“Is that the way you do it?” Prissy blurted, referring to his 
masturbatory stroke.

“Yes, like this, you mean masturbate?”

“Uh-huh, yes.”

“Yes, like this,” he whispered.

“Whew!” Prissy hissed.

Her little pussy itched and gooshed cream in the crotch of her swim suit.

“Lemme feel it?” Her voice sounded slurred from the alcohol.

He took his hand away, moved in between her lovely young legs.

Prissy slumped in the chair, sat on the edge. She reached for his prick, 
clutched her little hand around the thick stalk, ran her fingers up and 
down the sides, examining, investigating the proud rod.

His prick pulsed, jerked around and throbbed as her fingers slithered 
over the slick stalk.

Prissy glanced up and saw the desire on his face, then returned her gaze 
to the massive cock that she now gripped tightly in the middle of the 
stalk.

“Oh, honey,” he whimpered above her. “It’s real long and stuff,” Prissy 
whispered. “And it’s all sticky with icky stuff out here.”

Using her other hand, she rubbed her fingers over the tip of his prick, 
feeling the thick, goopy cum that creamed there.

Prissy loved the feel of his cock in her hand, so hard, but yet so 
spongy, so long… so masculine.

“Pump it!” he cried.

“Huh?”

“Pump on it with your hand, Prissy.”

“Like this?” she asked, jerking her grip on his prick.

“Yessss!” he sighed.

“Oooooh, jeez!” Prissy whimpered.

She jerked his thick prick-stick, watched how his cock-top frothed and 
foamed, and she trembled all over with excitement.

“No, I better not,” she said, getting a little frightened. “You do it, 
Mr. Lake. I wanna see you do it!”

Prissy let go of his cock.

He grabbed his cock quicky and flogged it wildly. Prissy leaned back in 
the chair and watched him jack off. She loved it. He humped hard, his prick
spat at her, then he hammered so hard that Prissy didn’t know how he could 
go so fast. Then boom! Squirt! Squish! Woosh! He came!

A big load of cum, thick wads of cream, spewed from Mr. Lake’s prick and 
spiraled into the air, then came splashing down on Prissy’s black bathing 
suit, splattering in puddles on her flat tummy, her tanned thighs, her 
knees. A big chunk of cream splashed onto the crotch of her suit.

“Oh, gawwwwd!” she gasped in amazement. “Holy… jeez… gawwwwd!”

Mr. Lake beat furiously on his big prick and shot a wad that seemed like 
a quart of cum. He kept squirting strings and splatches of cream at Prissy.

Prissy had never seen anything so thrilling in her entire life. She sat 
with her mouth hung open, her eyes wide, as she watched the magical 
eruption that spurted from Mr. Lake’s bulging cock.

“Wow!” she gasped. “Jeez, shit!”

She was on such a burner now that she sizzled with excitement. The effect
of the booze, the squirting cock, the whole situation had her in a sweet, 
schoolgirl swoon.

“You’re shootin’ all that icky-poo!” she whispered.

“Ahhhh, yeahhh! Uh-huh yesss!” Mr. Lake moaned, a joyous tremble in his �
voice.

“Oooh, gee! And the way you’re pullin’ on it and stuff!” Prissy babbled.

He finally milked his cock dry.

Prissy looked down at her bathing suit, which was now splattered with 
cum. She ran her fingers through the big puddle of poo at her crotch.

“You just shoot all that stuff when you do that, huh?” she mumbled.

“Yes,” he sighed, his cock still in his hand, all creamy and lathered.

“All over my suit.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up for you.”

He took a towel and fell between her legs. He swiped away the cum 
tenderly, then reached her crotch to dab at the juice there. He rubbed in. 
Prissy tightened. He smeared the cum onto her suit, with his fingers, 
rubbing the towel over her crotch. She wiggled with delight.

“Ah!” she gulped. “Ooooh!”

He threw the towel to the floor and rubbed her pussy with his hand. Her 
cunt felt good to him, all puffed out in the tight black suit. He reached 
up with his free hand and felt her nice titties.

Prissy let him feel her up. She was hot as she’d ever been, ever thought 
she could be. He kissed her.

“I… I don’t know… I mean… ” Prissy protested.

But his hands made her feel so fine, especially the one between her legs.
She was really too drunk to stop him, and she wasn’t even aware that he had
unzipped her suit in the back and was pulling it off, down over her 
magnificent tits, her white belly, her hips, thighs, down her legs until 
she sat nude on the chair.

“Ooooh!” she whimpered. “Nooooo! Uh uh!” �

But Mr. Lake was down on all fours and his face was on Prissy’s pussy. He
munched in on her little blonde cunt-mound, licked the slit, slurped his 
mouth to it, then sucked.

“Ahhhhh! Nooooo! Noooo!” Prissy yelped.

But he had her.

She was lost in a dizzying thrill of ecstasy, a sensation she’d never 
felt before, not even with all her masturbating.

His mouth gulped her pussy, sucked on the delicious blonde honey cake, 
slurping, munching, licking, and each one sent new vibrations of pleasure 
reeling through Prissy. She pushed her legs wide apart, slid down on the 
edge of the chair. He reached up and grabbed her tits, each one a handful, 
as he sucked her cunt.

“Gawwwwd! Mr. Lake!” she panted.

It felt good, what he was doing. She looked down, watched him eat at her 
pussy intently.

“Oooh, shit!” she whispered softly.

She rumbled with a climax. It gripped her quickly. She stiffened in the 
chair. Her body shook. She threw her head back.

“Oh, god!” she cried. “Ohhhh, Sir! Oooh!”

Her shuddering body excited Mr. Lake, and he chewed her cunt and tickled 
her clit at the same time, lifting Prissy to another climax that followed 
right on top of the first one.

“Mmmmm!” she moaned. “Jeeeeeez!”

Such a feeling had never possessed the young girl before. She slithered 
upward, pushed her pussy to his greedy mouth and let him snack on her cunt.

“Mmmmm, feels goood!” she babbled.

Prissy finally fell back on the chair, and she had to push Mr. Lake’s 
head away from her cunt to get him to stop eating her.

“Jeepers!” she gulped as he lifted up and looked her in the eyes.

“Oh, that was good,” he said, “tasted so good!”

“Tasted good?”

“Yes.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“But I did. You liked it, didn’t you, Prissy?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

She breathed out a long sigh, catching her breath, relaxing from her 
tremendous climax.

“Uh, thanks, Mr. Lake.”

He leaned in and kissed her stomach, then licked his way up to her 
baseball-sized tits, then he sucked one into his mouth.

CHAPTER THREE

“No, don’t,” Prissy said. “I gotta go, Sir.”

She pushed him off her titties.

He stood up. His prick was hard again big, raw, and throbbing. �

“Gawd! It’s all big again!” Prissy observed, ogling his huge prick.

“If you’ll come sit with me on the edge of the bed, I’ll show you 
somethin’,” he said.

“Well, you’re not gonna try to screw me are you? ‘Cause I won’t.”

“No, I won’t do anything you won’t let me do, okay?”

“Okay then.”

Prissy got up, and the two naked lovers went to the bed and sat on the 
edge.

“You hold my prick,” he said, then put her hand on his erection.

She grasped the hard, stiff stalk.

“And I’ll reach over and feel your pussy, like this,” he said, slicking a
finger in her cunt. “Now, you jerk me and I’ll finger you, okay?”

“Like this?” Prissy said, hammering up and down on his prick.

“Yeah!” he gasped, then began his own fucking with his finger.

“Whew, jeez!” Prissy sighed, then pounded faster on his squirting cock.

“Feels good.”

“We’re masturbatin’ each other, huh?” Prissy asked. “Yes.”

“Oh, shit!” Prissy huffed, overcome by emotion. “Shit, we shouldn’t!”

But the man’s finger had her hooked, and she liked the way his slick 
stroke made her feel. She worked hard to jerk on his prick the way he might
like it.

They sat there in sheer delight with each other.

“You gonna goosh all that sticky stuff out again?” Prissy asked. “Yes.”

“Good, I wanna see it shoot out again.”

Prissy couldn’t believe she was sitting in the Holiday Inn with a strange
man, a man who had to be near forty, sitting nude with him on the bed, both
masturbating each other.

The darling lass had never felt this way. There was a delicious buzz to 
the whole thing, an excitement that closed over her, captured her, owned 
her.

His hard cock in her hand sent simmering slivers of gushing pleasure 
through her, the way his cock was so strong, hard, big in her hand. The way
she jerked on his stalk, how it felt throbbing and thumping against her 
fingers, the way the strange top kept fizzing and bubbling.

And his finger in her pussy. He really knew how to make a girl feel good.
He had experience, she could tell. He knew just how to finger her pussy to 
make her almost die with joy.

Prissy’s little mouth formed a puckered O. She jacked on the 
businessman’s business. His cockhead spilled thick cream that drooled down 
the stalk onto her sweet fingers and over her red fingernails.

“Boy, it’s oozy and stuff!” Prissy whispered.

“And your cunt is so slippery and nice.”

Prissy had never heard that word before in her sheltered existence.

“My cunt?” she blurted, without thinking.

“Yes, darling, your sweet cunt. I love putting my finger in there.”

“Jeepers!” Prissy said softly.

She slugged his cock. He fingered her cunt. She jerked faster. He slicked
her slit faster. They sat together, their arms criss-crossed like swords, 
as they pleasured each other.

Mr. Lake stiffened.

“I’m gonna cum!” he panted.

His cock thickened in Prissy’s hands. She liked the bulge of the stalk. 
She got a two-handed grip on his cock now, shoved up and down, pounded 
wildly.

He fucked her pussy with a beautiful vibrating finger.

She felt her climax hit her. She stiffened too. She loved the wave of 
ecstasy that flooded over her.

Mr. Lake’s prick gushed.

Hot cream jetted from the big cocktip.

“Ooooh!” Prissy yelped.

“Honey!”

“Ah, ah!” Prissy sucked her breath in with the force of her orgasm. 
“Ohhhfff!”

His cock rocketed hot shots of cream up in the air. They came splashing 
down all over Prissy’s hands, her legs, a virtual shower of cum. She kept 
pumping his prick as she shuddered through her wonderful cum-feel.

“Awwww, gawwwd!” she whimpered.

Prissy’s hands were drenched in cum, but she kept jerking, and it was 
easier now, because his whole he-man cock was lathered with cream.

Her jack-job made a slick, slurping noise. Glup, glup, glup.

His finger made an exciting clicking sound in her pussy, like someone 
chewing gum.

They were radiating in their own climaxes,’ loving the feelings that 
swept through them, shuddering with pleasure.

Prissy never thought anything could be so exciting, feel so good.

They finally drained their passion.

“I gotta go,” Prissy said.

“Can I see you again?”

Prissy picked up her black swimsuit and wiggled into it. “I dunno, I ”�

“Well, what room are you in?”

“Pm not stayin’ here, Mr. Lake. I snuck in to use the pool. Kids do it 
all the time.”

“And… ah, fine good. And, you are a student here in college?”

“No, Sir. I go to Bradford Academy. It’s a girl’s high school. A very 
good one.”

“My God, you’re in high school!” Mr. Lake exclaimed.

“Uh-uh… I’ll be a senior.”

“Oh, ah… “

“But I’m eighteen, Sir. I just turned eighteen.”

He relaxed, them smiled. “Perhaps the next time I’m in town I could call 
you and let you know.”

“Maybe,” Prissy said.

“Can you give me your number?”

“Well, okay, I guess it’s all right,” Prissy said. She reeled it off, and
he copied it down on the phone pad next to the bed.

“Goodbye, Prissy,” he said as she opened the door.

Prissy looked back at his nude, thin body. “Yeah, goodbye, Mr. Lake,” she
whispered.

CHAPTER FOUR

It was still hot when school started.

Prissy looked forward to her last year at Bradford Academy. In a way she 
liked it, she thought she was getting a good education, but on the other 
hand it was boring.

She drove her little Pinto to school. She got out in her uniform, her 
dark, navy-blue skirt swirling in pleats high on her tanned thighs, her 
white sweater, short-sleeved. The sweater pulled in tightly on her hard, 
round tits. Her lower legs were encased in blue knee socks, her feet in 
blue-and-white saddle shoes.

She looked like an American dream teen, her long blonde hair swinging in 
a ponytail tied with a white ribbon, her cheeks blushed pink, her lips 
glossed to a thick pink shine.

A delicious delight was what she was.

School had been in session for a week, and she had only enjoyed one 
class, a literature period with Mr. Smith. They were studying baseball as a
metaphor, reading some of the great American baseball novels. Prissy liked 
the class, and she was fond of Mr. Smith, a man of forty-one who had brown 
hair, broad shoulders, a muscular chest, a handsome, academic-looking face.
He wore thick black glasses.

Prissy had an experience that first week of school she would never forget
in her entire life. She was a cheerleader, captain of the squad. The girls 
cheered for the Bradford Boys Academy down the street.

The girls had a small dressing room at Bradford Boys, so they could 
change for the games there. On a Friday afternoon, a day before the first 
game at Bradford, Prissy had been practicing out on the field with the 
other girls, doing their routines while the boys scrimmaged. When the boys 
were done, the girls stayed longer. Prissy made them. She wanted their 
routines to be perfect this year since she was captain.

She finally let the girls go, then stayed on the field doing some of her 
own practice, working on her dance steps, her moves. She worked an extra 
half hour, then went to the boys’ school and went in, walked down past the 
boys’ locker room to the cheerleader dressing room.

It seemed the school was deserted, but as she walked by the boys’ locker 
room, she heard soft voices. She peered around the door and saw two young 
lads sitting on a wooden bench. They were nude.

They sat sideways to Prissy. She backed up and peeked through the crack. 
She thought she had heard her name, which was what had stopped her so 
suddenly.

Then, as she looked through the crack, she could see the two boys were 
masturbating. They were younger boys, and she hadn’t seen them around, but 
they had just gotten out of the shower and they sat on towels on the bench.

A young black-haired lad said, “That Prissy Holt. Jeez, did you see her 
over there cheerleading. She’s got such a great ass!”

He whacked on his cock.

The other boy smiled. “And nice tits too, real nice tits.”

“Shit, she’s so damn good-lookin’,” the black-haired youth panted, 
humming his hand harder on his six-inch prick.

“I know. I’d like to screw the shit outa her!” the other answered.

Prissy stood there in dark-blue shorts, a white tanktop, and white tennis
shoes. She trembled with excitement, hearing the teenaged boys talk about 
her.

“I wonder if she puts out?” the blonde asked. “I dunno. Never hear about 
her at all… shit, I’d eat her.”

“Me too.”

They were both pounding their young pricks with hot, hammering strokes.

Prissy tingled all over.

“Gaaawwd,” she whispered. “They’re beatin’ off to me!”

“Shit, Prissy Holt, is that who you’re thinkin’ ‘bout, Johnny?” the 
blonde boy panted.

“Yeah, I’d like to get in her pants!” Johnny gulped.

“Me too,” Billy, the other boy, said. They sat hunched over on the bench,
pounding off, talking about Prissy… being normal teenaged boys, but Prissy 
didn’t know this. Oh, she knew boys masturbated, but together? Talking 
about a certain girl? That had never occurred to the darling dear.

The lads hammered their hot, hard, young, stiff pricks.

Prissy peered through the crack in the door, one eye crinkled shut. She 
was bent over, her ass arched out.

“Yeah, I seen her in that little, blue skirt she wears to school. I’ve 
walked down to the girls’ school, just to see her,” Johnny said. “She fills
that skirt out, huh?” Billy gulped. “Yeah, and when she cheerleads, last 
year… that blue skirt with pleats, and the way it goes up over her yellow 
pants, shit!” Johnny huffed, jacking harder and faster on his cock. “Shit, 
she’s fine!” Johnny yelped.

“The best!” Billy agreed.

“I’m fuckin’ her!” Johnny panted.

“Me too!”

Prissy couldn’t believe the dialogue, but she was titillated, strangely 
excited by it, in fact she was thrilled to the bone of her cunt that the 
boys were jacking off to her and talking about her at the same time… it was
an experience she would look back on and think how every girl should have. 
They should accidentally watch boys beating off to them. Every girl should 
see that, Prissy thought for weeks after the incident.

And the boys were beating off, and Prissy was peeking in, watching their 
fervent fist-fucking. “Prissy! Prissy Prissy!” Johnny cried. His own cock 
looked like a water fountain that someone pressed down on; it was shooting 
out a stream… that’s how the cum came gushing out of his prick-top.

“Me too,” Billy panted, and his cock spat wild splotches of cum.

“Shit!” Prissy whispered. “That’s really naughty, the way they’re doin’ 
that!” The boys were squirting off. Prissy’s pussy creamed in her pants 
under the shorts. She reached down and rubbed her pussy hard. It felt so 
good.

A good hot cum spread through her.

She trembled, let the good-feel simmer her very soul. She rubbed hard and
fast on the crotch of her blue shorts and watched the boys squirt loads of 
hot cream.

Prissy loved the feel she got when she climaxed, that good juicing spread
of pleasure that always consumed her, slithered through her. She wanted to 
cry with joy as she peeked through the crack in the door at the 
prick-pumping boys.

They finally relaxed, fully spent.

“Well, you think we’ll beat South?” Johnny asked, as if the previous 
action had not taken place.

“I dunno,” Billy replied. He took his towel and wiped his cock. “I think 
we’ll do okay.”

Johnny stood up and toweled the cum from his prick.

“I think I’ll take another shower,” he said. “I like it when everybody is
gone.”

“Ah, shit. I’m goin’ to get dressed and go home,” Billy said.

Prissy slowly tiptoed past the door and raced to the cheerleaders’ little
dressing room.

Once in the dressing room, the door shut and locked, Prissy sat down on a
wooden chair and stripped her blue shorts down. She quickly took down her 
white panties, then spread her legs and started masturbating her blonde 
pussy.

“Oh, jeez!” she gasped. “Those guys! Jerkin’ off like that to me! Shit!”

Prissy fingered her fluffy fuckbox, got a twiddle going on her clit and 
came.

“Ohhhhh!” she moaned.

Her finger twirled between her legs. She was supine on the chair, a 
picture of loveliness, her legs straight out in a wide V, her hips pushed 
upward, her pretty face plastered with pleasure.

It was a spectacular climax.

She finally shuddered wildly, then slumped back on the chair.

“Whewwww!” she sighed. “I needed that. Whewwww! I needed that!”

What Prissy was learning was that she needed that all the time. She 
needed that wonderful feeling thundering through her every second.

“Jeez,” she whispered, getting off the chair, pulling her pants up. “I 
knew I was good-lookin’ and sexy and stuff, but guys beatin’ off to me like
that… jeez… whewwww!”

CHAPTER FIVE

Prissy wiggled into her cheerleading uniform for the first football game 
of the year. She thought about Mr. Lake, how he had said cunt to her, how 
they had masturbated each other, how he had munched on her pussy.

She pulled on her darling cheerleading skirt, a little blue number with 
spilling pleats. She put it on, then looked in the mirror. It was so short.
Only about eighteen inches long.

“Mmmmm!” she murmured, turning, looking at the way her ass pushed out the
back of the skirt.

She slipped into her yellow bloomers. They were bright and shiny. She 
pulled them up. The sweet pants cuddled and snuggled all the way 
around crunchy on her cunt, then slicing high on her beefy ass. �

Prissy pulled on the dark-blue sweater that matched perfectly her 
dark-blue skirt. It came down to the top of her skirt, so that when she did
her jumps on the field, the sweater would pull up to reveal her tight 
belly. The sweater had a yellow megaphone on the front with her name 
printed in the middle.

She sat down and pulled on her dark-blue knee socks, her white tennis 
shoes, then she made sure her blonde hair was banged out down to her 
eyelashes, and straight on the sides and in back.

Prissy tied the back in a ponytail with a yellow ribbon.

She looked stunning, cute, attractive, sexy, supple, sensuous, 
delectable.

She had gotten to the dressing room before the other girls. She was, 
after all the captain of the squad. The girls trailed in and got dressed, 
then, as a team, they took the field to perform their first routine with 
the band. The stands were full.

Prissy danced and moved to the music. She hunched down, her legs wide, 
feet set apart. She screwed her hips way down toward the ground, her hands 
on her thighs, then bumped them out several times. The undulations sent her
skirt flying up over her bright yellow bloomers.

She bumped her hips, pushed out her crotch, screwed it back, bumped it 
again.

The girls did a routine that would put any old-time burlesque stripper to
shame.

The girls rolled their hips, strutted, set their legs wide apart, scooped
their hips down, pumped them out.

Prissy saw the men in the audience eye her. She saw Johnny and Billy in 
their football uniforms, standing on the sidelines ogling her.

They’re talking about how my skirt goes up over my pants, she thought, 
then bumped hard so her skirt flipped in a blue wave above her yellow 
bloomers. At halftime, she went with the girls to the con-so cession stand,
but Prissy was too hot to stay with them. She excused herself and walked to
the boys’ school, went to the dressing room, sat down in a chair and 
masturbated.

She stuck her hand in her yellow bloomers and fucked her cunt with her 
fingers.

“Shit, I like this!” she sighed.

She was stretched out on the chair, ass on the edge, legs out wide, her 
hand knuckling her yellow pants, puffing them out at the crotch as she 
massaged her cunt-slit, played with her pussy, cuddled her cunt, slickered 
her snatch, clicked her clit.

“Afffeww!” she sighed.

Her body stiffened. She came. Her loveliness rippled on the chair as she 
experienced the erotic pleasures that coursed through her.

*

Back on the field, Prissy stood in line with the other girls, turned, 
bent over, put her hands on her knees, stuck her ass out and waved it. Her 
skirt skipped up above the bright yellow tights.

She turned, kept the same pose, legs wide and set apart, knees cocked 
out, a real bump-and-grind pose, then she humped her hips, more exaggerated
than the other girls, pumping like she was fucking. Her blue skirt flew 
high above her cunny-crunched, yellow bloomers.

She looked at the men in the crowd, and saw hot gawking eyes… saw the 
football players on the bench stare.

Prissy stood up, swayed in three steps, back three steps, and finished 
off the routine with a jump and a wide stretch of her legs.

Prissy wished that she had a date after the game, because it was Friday 
night. She even thought about asking the boy named Johnny, the one who had 
jacked off to her, if he wanted to do something, but she didn’t.

Instead, she drove home for a Friday evening alone.

Later she would call April Ronson, one of the other cheerleaders, and 
they could go to a movie.

She arrived home after the game and was met inside by her Uncle Hank. He 
was at the bar with a drink. Hank was forty-three, tall, and he was built 
like a football player, muscular but streamlined. It was easy to see he 
worked out and lifted weights. “Hi, Prissy,” he said. “Gee, hi, Uncle Hank.
Whatcha doin’ at our house?”

“Emily and I were going to meet your folks and we all are going out for 
dinner. I’m real early. I finished for the weekend at the office, so I just
came on over. You know I know where the key is hidden outside.”

“Sure.”

“Well, I thought I’d just come in, have a few drinks and wait for them. 
Wanna drink, Prissy?”

Prissy thought about how cozy and good the Jack and Coke had made her 
feel the other day she and Mr. Lake got together in his motel room.

“No, I better not,” she said. After all, Hank was her uncle.

He stood looking at her. His thick black hair has specks of gray at the 
sides. He wore a three-piece gray suit.

“Oh, go ahead. It’s okay with me,” he said.

“Well, maybe a Jack Daniels and Coke.” She smiled.

He fixed it quickly and handed it to her. They sat at the bar on thick 
plush stools.

“You look really great,” Hank said.

“Gee, thanks,” Prissy said, smiling as she sipped her drink.

“You had a game today, I mean the boys’ academy did, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“How did they do?”

“We won.”

His gaze was on her tight blue sweater, the yellow megaphone, her name 
imprinted on it, pulled in tightly against the thrust of her nice, round 
tits.

Her skirt lay high on her tanned thighs.

He gazed at her legs, her blue knee socks, her white tennis shoes, then 
the blue skirt, her pleats, and once again he fixed his eyes on her tits.

Prissy saw him appraising her. She sipped Jack and Coke.

“Show me a routine,” he said. “Show me how you cheerlead.”

He gulped his drink down and fixed another, then gulped at that.

Prissy finished her drink. “No, you don’t wanna see that.”

Hank quickly poured a generous load of Jack Daniels in her glass and 
chased it with Coke. He added some fresh ice.

Prissy sipped at it, once again feeling a sweet buzz click in and lick 
through her as the alcohol went down and warmed her insides.

“Sure I do,” Hank said. “Do a little somethin’ for me, huh?”

“Well, whattya mean? I mean just do some cheer or something?”

“Yeah, come on. Let your old uncle see how good you are.”

Prissy couldn’t quite get a reading on him. His eyes told her that he 
lusted for her, but he was her uncle… he couldn’t be lusting for her.

“Well, okay,” she said, taking a big sip of her drink. “I’ll show you one
we do.”

CHAPTER SIX

Prissy slid off the bar stool. She stood with her tennies planted on the 
carpet, feet wide apart… super wide. She bent down, knees cocked. Her hands
slipped down her thighs, just above her knees. She rolled her hips around 
and around, bumped them left, then right, then humped them back and pumped 
forward, bumping her skirt up over her yellow bloomers.

Prissy kept swinging. Her blonde bangs banged on her forehead, her 
fabulous body kept undulating, pumping in and out a salacious hump-hump �
that made her uncle wild with passion.

She looked so damned good to Hank, the way she undulated, her sweet 
uniform vibrating with the jiggle of her fantastic body.

Prissy’s tits bobbed in her sweater. Her hips kept swinging, first to the
side, then to the other side, then a swirling roll in and out, in and out, �
in and out, three bumps-and-grinds.

She felt a little drunk. She saw how her uncle gawked at her, and she 
kept moving.

He put his drink down.

Then Prissy saw it the rising bulge in his slacks. He had a big hard-on �
for her.

“Oh, mmmm!” he murmured.

Shit, Prissy thought, he’s gettin’ a boner!

Her pussy creamed in her yellow bloomers. She swirled her hips, her hands
just above her knees, her sexy pose igniting the fires of passion within 
her Uncle Hank.

But that’s what he wanted. He had it on his mind. He judged his lovely 
niece to be one of the most beautiful young ladies he had ever seen in his 
life… and now, to have her showing him a routine, a bump-and-grind, a slow 
roll of her lush hips, the hump-pump of her cunt as she pushed forward, as 
her blue skirt flipped over her pants, had him hotter than he had been in 
years.

“That’s good, Prissy. Real good,” Hank said.

“Well, it’s just one of the things we do,” Prissy said. “We turn around 
too, bend over like this.” �

She turned, assumed a salacious pose, legs apart, ass sticking out, hand 
still on her thighs. She rotated her hips.

The way her ass wobbled under the short skirt was a sight that ever man 
should have seen, every man should have drooled over, because every 
healthy, red-blooded American male would have almost fainted… the way 
Prissy’s ass steamed against the swirling pleats. She exaggerated the move 
so that her skirt pulled up over her yellow bloomers.

“Well, shit!” Hank huffed hotly, pouring straight whiskey into his glass,
then gulping greedily at it.

Prissy turned around. “Well, that’s a couple routines we do, Uncle Hank.”

“And they are very nice routines too, Prissy.”

His cock thumped in his slacks almost as if he had a live animal in 
there.

Prissy saw the curl of his prick-stalk as the top of his cock pushed out 
his trousers. She came back over and sat down next to Hank.

“Very good, Prissy,” he said, pouring more Jack Daniels into her glass.

Prissy was pretty drunk by now.

“Well, you goddamn guy, you’re pourin’ me another drink,” Prissy slurred.

“You know you are a beautiful young lady.”

“And you got a boner on too,” Prissy huffed, sipping the drink as if it 
were communion wine.

Uncle Hank smiled.

“See, look,” she whispered, reaching over, and pointed a finger over the 
top of his confined erection.

“I sure do,” Hank said.

“You shouldn’t do that, Uncle Hank,” Prissy admonished.

His hand slapped out, and he greedily grabbed her thigh below her skirt.

“God, you’re really somethin’!” he whispered. Their eyes met.

His hand slid under her skirt, up her lovely leg, then he found the 
warmth of her delicious yellow crotch. He fingertipped her pussy through 
the slick pants.

“You’re up my skirt!” Prissy exclaimed, then she downed the straight Jack
Daniels.

“Oh, yes!” Hank sighed.

He fingered her cunt. Then he rubbed it.

“Don’t do that, Uncle Hank!” Priss warned.

“Oh, god, baby!” he sighed hotly.

He cupped his hand and spaded it between her legs, sliding his palm in 
and out on Prissy’s pussy.

“I said not to do that!”

But he did it. Her uncle had his hand up under her skirt, lifting it in a
little bump as he rubbed his own hand against Prissy’s creamy crotch.

“Honey,” he whispered.

“Now, come on,” Prissy said, twisting her head from side to side.

He rubbed harder.

“Now, come on, Uncle Hank… stop!”

His fingers were like darts as he pressed into her precious pussy.

His cock thumped in his trousers.

Prissy looked down at the hard spike of his prick.

He took his other hand and flipped her skirt up, layered the beautiful, 
blue pleats up around her waist. Prissy sat like a madonna in her yellow 
bloomers. His hand kept fucking her pussy.

Prissy felt dizzy, excited, frightened… drunk.

“Now, damnit! Don’t!” she huffed. He dipped his hand down deep into her 
yellow pants.

“Awwww, shit! Don’t, Uncle Hank! Come on! Stop!”

“Prissy, Prissy!” he mumbled, digging deeper into the darling’s pants.

“You get your hand outa my bloomers, Uncle Hank!”

“Oh, Prissy!” He trembled, his hand jiggling in her pants, his fingers 
fiddling with her cunt-slit.

He stuck his middle finger in her cunt.

“Come on! Damn!” Prissy yelped.

Hank leaned over and kissed Prissy.

Their lips met in a warm, wet, slurpy smooch. His finger fucked in and 
out of her pussy.

The Jack Daniels had Prissy feeling lightheaded, buzzing warmly.

“Mmmm, mmmm!” she mumbled.

She twisted her head away from Hank’s gaping mouth.

“No kissin’!” Prissy huffed.

Her hand went to his thick wrist. She tried to wrench his hand out of her
bloomers.

No go.

“Oh, shit, Uncle Hank! You shouldn’t be in my pants like this!”

But he was and he loved it. He stood up. His cock spiked out his pants 
lewdly. Prissy stared at his hard erection.

Hank was so hot for Prissy that beads of sweat dripped from his forehead.
His body trembled. His hand fucked around in her yellow bloomers.

His finger slicked her to a sweet satisfaction. A simmering climax spread
through her splendid young body. She slipped off the bar stool, stood 
leaning with her ass back against it, her legs wide apart, hips pushed 
forward.

Hank’s hand diddled in her pants. His finger twirled on her tight clit.

Prissy shivered up and down.

“Donnnnn’t! Oh, shittttt!” she cried, throwing her head back and closing 
her eyes.

Her mouth hung open as she enjoyed the vibration of her erotic orgasm.

The booze, her uncle’s hand, his sliding finger, had her on the edge of 
the best climax she had ever had. She continued shuddering as she leaned 
back against the bar stool.

“Oh, really… jeeeez!” she sighed.

Hank loved the way she looked, completely gone, owned by the pleasure of 
her good feeling.

He leaned over and plastered her open mouth with an obscene kiss.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Hank took his hand out of Prissy’s pants. He held her tits, cupped them 
lovingly as she trembled in the afterglow of her climax.

He unzipped his fly and yanked his cock out. He took Prissy’s hand and 
placed it on the long, rigid stalk of his cock. His prick spiked out a full
eleven inches.

All these tall men, she thought, they got such huge peters!

“You shouldn’t have it out!” Prissy whispered, looking down at his giant 
erection.

The pricktip dripped cum. The stalk throbbed in her tiny grip.

Prissy’s hand lingered on the lovesick prick stick, and her eyes gawked 
at the length of his thumping cock. She glanced up quickly at her uncle. 
His face radiated desire for her; she could see his impassioned eyes glazed
and hot.

“But, Jeez, Uncle Hank!” Prissy whispered. He tugged her bloomers down to
her knees. Prissy lost her grip on his prick. He was squatting in front of 
her. He raised her skirt and looked at her beautiful blonde cunt. “Oh! 
Ohhhh!” he murmured. “Don’t go kissin’ it now or nothin’,” Prissy said 
softly, her chin tucked in, looking down at her uncle.

He kept her skirt pinned up with his hands as he leaned in and slobbered 
her thighs with his dangling tongue, licking, kissing the slick, silky 
smoothness.

“Uh-uh, don’t!” Prissy protested, a drunken quaver in her girlish voice. 
He muffed his face into her blonde-haired pussy patch, pasted his mouth to 
her creamy cunt and sucked.

“Ah! Nooo! Ooooh, Uncle Hank!”

He sucked her cunt in, nibbled, then slithered his tongue up and down her
pussy-slit.

“Awwww, shit!” Prissy cried.

Prissy’s pants were tight in a yellow stretch between her legs, just 
above her knee socks. She leaned back, her ass pushing on the cushion of 
the barstool.

Hank slid his hands around behind her and cupped the dumpling cheeks of 
her ass, felt the round slick curves.

His tongue fucked at Prissy’s pussy, ricking away her juice, sucking and 
slurping at her snatch.

“No! Nooo! No suckin’!” Prissy whimpered, sobbing.

Sparks of delirious joy ignited within her fine body. Her uncle’s 
munching mouth made her feel so damn good that she wanted to shout.

“Okay, then, Uncle Hank,” she whispered. “Okay, go ahead, go ahead suck.”

He did.

Slivers of satisfaction wracked Prissy’s body.

She came, shaking, shuddering, standing there with her arms dangling at 
her sides, her head upturned, chin lifted, mouth open.

“Awwwww, awwww, shhhhit!” she yelped.

Hank kept eating her cunt voraciously, kept her climax going, found her 
clit and sent her into another shivering orgasm, a sweet cum that flooded 
her with pleasure.

“Awwwww! Oh, damn!” she sobbed joyously.

Her angelic, pretty face turned into a sweet mask of pleasure. She 
shuddered uncontrollably as Hank licked her clit, her head still upturned, 
her mouth open, a small smile tugging the corners of her lips.

Hank stood up quickly, fisted his cock and pushed his pricktip at 
Prissy’s pussy. His big drooling cockhead mashed into her blonde curls.

“No, no!” Prissy yelped. She reached down and stopped Hank’s prick from 
penetrating her cunt. She grabbed his cock-stalk and pushed downward on his
thumping erection. Hank leaned in on her. His prick slid between her thighs
so that the top of the hard stalk throbbed up under her cunt, pushed 
through all the way so it stuck out like a big weenie at the bottoms of her
ass, the top part of the prick lined up in perfection with the crack of her
ass.

Hank held Prissy close, kissed her wide, pink mouth, felt her fine body 
pressing against his, her tits mashing against his chest. He was humped 
down, bent at the knees, his trousers and shorts on his ankles, around his 
shoes.

“Oh, Prissy, baby!” he sighed, breaking the kiss.

“Don’t, Uncle Hank… take it out from between my legs.”

He reached behind Prissy and clutched her naked ass, held her skirt up on
her waist. He began pumping, pushing his cock in and out between her 
thighs.

“I wanna fuck you,” he whispered.

“No, huh-uh!”

“Let’s fuck, Prissy, come on!”

“No, what if my mom and dad come home, Aunt Emily. Jeez! And it’s… well… 
your, the, ah… peter big, too big, and stuff!” Prissy babbled.

“Tighten your thighs!” Hank commanded. “Why?”

“It’ll feel good… for both of us.”

Prissy brought her legs together. Her yellow pants fell to her ankles. 
His cock was clamped between her smooth thighs. The top of the stalk pulsed
against Prissy’s pussy.

Hank lifted the tip of his cock in his palm behind her, lifted it up and 
layered it into the crack of Prissy’s ass. It looked like he was putting a 
hot dog in a bun.

“Eeeek! Sheeez!” Prissy moaned. “Jeez, what ”�

“Darling!” he gulped. “Like that, yes!”

Hank upped the speed of his fuck-strokes.

Prissy pushed down on his erection, screwed her hips, kept her thighs 
tight on his stalk… like it was in a velvet vise or something. She felt his
cock swell between her legs.

Hank pressed the tip harder into her asscrack, his cockhead spitting and 
gooshy.

“Ah, ooof! You got it on my butthole!”

Prissy cried.

“Honey!” he panted. “Don’t bend it up in there like that!” Prissy 
whispered.

Hank massaged his pricktip in the luscious, soft crack of Prissy’s ass, 
the tip of his spurting cock goosed right against her sweet asshole.

He pumped between her legs and frictioned his fuck-shaft at her butt. 
“Noooo! Don’t! Please!” Prissy whined. “I gotta!” he huffed. “Uh-uh, no… 
ohhh, look I’ll beat it off for yah, that okay?”

“Will you, will you?” he gasped. “Yes, just don’t keep puttin’ it up my… 
ah! Ooooh! Up my butt like that!”

Hank pulled back. His hard, long cock came out of the sweet vise Prissy 
had had on it.

“I’ll just sit up here on the barstool,” Hank said, propping up to the 
plush seat. “Okay, I’ll stand right here,” Prissy said. She stood beside 
Hank. His prick stood up like an axe handle. Prissy got a grip on the 
stalk. She started jerking up and down. Her eyes glared intently at his 
huge erection, the spitting pricktip, her own jacking action.

“Yeahhhh, yeah!” Hank sighed. “Like that, Prissy! Jeeeez! Like that, 
honey! Beat it like that!”

“If we get caught doin’ this, Uncle Hank, we’re in big trouble.”

“That’s sooo good, Prissy! Jerk it, honey!”

“Well, okay, but we better hurry,” she said, then grabbed the enormous 
prick-stick with her other hand and started pounding up and down.

“Darling!” he panted.

“It’s so darn big, Uncle Hank!”

“Uh-huh!”

“And it’s squirtin’ gooshy stuff.”

“I know.”

“You gonna cum, Uncle Hank?”

“Yes!”

She hammered him with a two-handed jerk-stroke that sent him to new 
plateaus of pleasure.

“Whew, that’s good, Prissy! Where didja learn how to do that, jerk like 
this?”

“I I dunno.” �

“You musta learned somewhere, huh?”

“That’s none of your bizwax!” Prissy huffed, picking up speed with her 
sweet jerking.

“Good hand-job, good job!” Hank muttered.

Prissy stood next to him in her cheerleading uniform, her yellow bloomers
lay on the floor. Her tiny hands gripped the stalk of her uncle’s giant 
cock. She pumped like a pro. She watched his spurting pricktip, then 
glanced occasionally at her uncle’s impassioned face.

Her two-handed pump increased in speed.

Hank came.

Prissy felt his cock bulge in her clutching hands. The head enlarged, 
then spewed big gobs of cream.

“Uh! Uh! Uh! Ohhhh!” Hank muttered.

“Oh, shit!” Prissy cried.

She jerked furiously, pumped hotly.

His cock jetted more cum. Big jizzy glops spat from the tip. She pumped 
out the exploding loads. She kept jerking until the cream spilled out and 
cascaded down the sides of the stalk onto her hands.

“Uncle Hank jeeeez!” Prissy exclaimed, her eyes wide. �

He had stiffened on the chair. Prissy pounded harder, kept going until 
she had drained him of his excessive load of cum.

He slumped down, huffing, puffing.

Prissy let his creamy cock go. His prick jerked, wobbled spasmodically, 
and another spurt of cum oozed out and dripped to the carpet.

“You’re gonna have to clean all that stuff up,” Prissy whispered. Her 
hands were drenched with cream. “Jeez, I better go.”

She bent over and picked up her bloomers. She wiped her cum-soaked hands 
on them. She looked at Hank.

“Ah, Prissy… thanks, darling,” he whispered.

“You’re naughty… nasty, Uncle Hank. We shouldn’t have done that.”

Quickly then, Prissy exited the living room, and went up to her bedroom. 
She lay down on her pink bed. She looked at her dripping hands. She gooked 
all the cream that was left onto two fingers, pulled her skirt up, then 
slid them into her pussy.

“Ahhhh!” she sighed as she started finger-fucking herself. “Wheeeew! 
Jeeeez!”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Like so many young ladies of eighteen, those blooming through their 
glorious teen years, Prissy liked to shop. She had read in various 
teen-queen magazines that girls in that age group rated shopping first 
among their top ten activities. Boys and dating rated sixth.

Prissy’s philosophy had always been, I shop, therefore I am. She was 
thinking, however, of changing it to, I cum, therefore I am. Too bad she 
couldn’t shop and cum at the same time, Prissy thought.

She was driving to the Meadow South Mall on a Saturday afternoon to shop.
She always liked to shop, even if she didn’t buy anything, but today she 
had some extra money she’d been saving from her allowance.

Her parents were gone for the weekend, as they most always were. It 
seemed to her, she never saw them at all anymore. They were so busy 
climbing social ladders, making money, chasing the American dream, that it 
seemed they were both always away on business meetings.

Her father worked as a middle-level executive with a manufacturing firm, 
and her mother was a real-estate lady, had her own agency, and was 
constantly gone from home, showing people houses or having meetings.

She had become bored around the house and decided to drive to the mall. 
She parked and walked across the parking lot, her beautiful 
eighteen-year-old body looking delicious in a light-blue jeans skirt that 
hugged her sweet hips in cuddly curves.

The skirt was short, cut high above her knees, and her tanned legs looked
terrific smooth, slim, perfect. She wore white tennis shoes, pink laces, �
and pink socks. The dark-blue sweater she wore with the skirt bobbled with 
the bounce of her full, round, teenette tits.

Her long blonde hair was combed straight forward in bangs down on her 
forehead. She had it parted in the middle, pulled back on the sides, then 
tightly pulled into a flowing ponytail tied with a white ribbon.

She walked the mall, smelling the caramel popcorn from a vendor’s stand 
in the middle of the first floor. She looked stunning and lovely as she 
swayed down the walkway.

Prissy stopped at Snazzy’s, a girl’s store. She walked in and began 
shopping. She was attracted to a blue jean skirt, bleached and faded so 
that it looked like it had been around awhile. Probably fits like it too, 
Prissy thought.

A man slid in beside her. He wore a dark-blue shirt, open at the neck, a 
light-brown sports jacket, and dark-brown slacks. He had sandy hair and 
looked like he was in his thirties.

“That’s a terrific, slim, denim skirt,” he said. “Especially when it’s 
paired with an oversized shaker sweater like this one, pink, pure cotton.

You see, it has a crew neck, drop shoulders, and chest pocket. The skirt 
is cotton and it has buttons up the side, so you can wear it open on one 
leg. The skirt was forty-five bucks, but I’ve discounted it to thirty-five.
The sweater is twenty-nine dollars.”

“Oh, uh… I see. Yeah, that looks good,” Prissy said.

“It would look wonderful on you, much like the outfit you’re wearing, but
perhaps a bit more sexier.” He smiled, admiring Prissy’s body.

“Gee, that’d be like sixty-five dollars, huh?”

“Yes.”

“I dunno. That’s a lot.”

“Tell you what. Just for you. You can have it, the skirt and sweater 
combination, for uh… ” Prissy looked at him, saw him stare at her tight 
blue sweater, her precious tits bulging out like ripe oranges. She could 
tell, he was hot for her. “How much money do you have?” he asked. “Fifty 
dollars.”

“Oh, I see. Well, we have some… listen, why don’t you just pick out a 
couple hundred dollars’ worth of clothes on me.”

“On you?”

“Yes, free. I own the store.”

“Gee.”

“I’m Mr. Ranson.”

“Uh… Prissy is my name. Prissy Holt.”

“Well, you pick out a couple hundred dollars’ worth of clothes. Look, 
make it three hundred, and don’t forget to visit our new lingerie 
department. We have some nice merry widows that many young ladies are 
buying, then wearing under an open blouse, or without a blouse at all.”

“Three hundred dollars’ worth of clothes, Sir?”

“Then bring everything upstairs. My office is in the back of the store 
next to the new lingerie department. Just come on in and I’ll okay 
everything… then you could, uh… well, perhaps model some of the clothes for
me. I’m thinking of starting a fashion show on Saturdays. Maybe you’d be 
interested in modeling.”

“Oh, I would!” Prissy said quickly.

She’d never told anyone, never discussed it, but she always wanted to be 
a model. That’s what she had her heart set on. She just never knew exactly 
how she was going to go about it. She had thought about going to modeling 
school after high school, but this would really be a break.

“Good, then have fun shopping, and come by my office. We’ll take a look 
at you modeling some of the clothes, perhaps make a deal for you to model 
in the show we’re thinking about.”

“Okay!” Prissy smiled.

She had a fabulous time shopping, picking out all the clothes, and she 
tried to pick things that she thought would look good on her so she could 
impress Mr. Ranson.

She took his suggestion and went to the lingerie department. As she 
looked things over, she wondered if he was going to ask her to model the 
lingerie too.

Well, I’ll just wait and cross that bridge when I come to it, Prissy 
thought. Maybe he just wants to get me in his office and try to fuck me.

“But three hundred dollars’ worth of clothes!” she whispered to herself. 
“I can’t turn that down.”

She checked out the merry widows. She chose the white one. It was a 
figure-flattering merry widow of lace and spandex. It had strapless 
bra-cups and a lace bodice inset. It hooked up the back, and had adjustable
garters, two white straps in front, two in the back.

To go with it, she picked out a thin pair of white bikini panties that 
had a nylon crotch. It would fit slick and curvy on her hips and around her
ass.

“Yes,” she whispered, “that’s how it’ll fit.”

She found another pair of pink panties, a black garterbelt, a demi-cup 
bra, underwired, so that it would uplift and shape her fine tits.

Then she headed for Mr. Ranson’s office.

She knocked on the door, and he let her in with her hangers of clothes.

“I see you did okay.” He smiled as he rose from behind his big desk.

Prissy walked across the thickly carpeted floor. “Uh-huh, three hundred 
dollars’ worth, like you said.”

“Good,” he whispered.

“Uh, well?” Prissy said.

“Yes, now you can model for me and we’ll see how that goes.”

“Ah, change clothes?”

“Yes, you can use that room right through there, it’s kind of a dressing 
room.”

“What didja wanna see first?” she asked.

“Well, I see how you look in a skirt and sweater, and I must say you look
marvelous, quite good, but I’m sure you’ve heard that before, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Well, since you look so good in a skirt and sweater, uh… I see you have 
a white merry widow there. Why don’t you put that on for me?”

Jeez, Prissy thought. He just wants to see me in my underwear. There 
probably isn’t a modeling job at all.

“Ah, well… ” she stammered.

What was she to do?

“Do I get to keep all these clothes?” Prissy asked. “Of course.”

“And so you want that I should put the merry widow and stuff on, the 
nylons and heels I got too?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, how much would I get paid if you hired me as a model?”

“We can negotiate that. That won’t be a problem. You’ll be paid very 
well, if we make a deal.”

“When are you gonna start these shows?”

“Soon, it’s in the works.”

“Well, I guess,” Prissy said. “This room?”

Prissy pointed to a door.

Mr. Ran son nodded.

Prissy went in and undressed. She put the merry widow on, hooked up the 
back by herself. It hugged her shapely body like a tight glove. Her 
teenybopper tits fluffed out the strapless cups, bulging, pushing together.

She hooked the white garter straps up to a pair of nylons, then added the
thin white panties. Her cunt muffed out the lace crotch as she pulled the 
panties into place over the garter straps.

She put on the pink high heels she’d picked out.

Prissy was indeed a sexy package. She looked in the mirror.

“Mmmmm, looks sexy,” she whispered.

She got her purse, blushed her lips with a shiny pink gloss, wet them, 
then brushed a light-red rouge onto her cheeks.

“Ah, yes!” Mr. Ranson exclaimed when she appeared.

Prissy stood before him.

He came around the desk. His eyes fucked her. She looked like she’d just 
walked out of a dream. His cock leaped so fast that it frightened Prissy to
see the spike shoot out at his crotch.

“Ah, mmmm,” he mumbled, leaning back against his desk, folding his arms, 
judging, gawking, his eyes burning.

“Well, I put it on,” Prissy said.

“Yes, mmmm, you looked good before, but now you look absolutely heavenly,
Prissy.”

“So, do I get the job modeling?”

CHAPTER NINE

His eyes glazed over her, stopping at her panties, leering at the blonde 
patch of cunny hair fluffing out the crotch. He gawked at the way her merry
widow hugged her so tightly, the bra-cups tight, scrunching up her nice 
titties.

Her pretty face enchanted the man.

Prissy looked at him, his boyish face wrinkled, but tight, youthful. He �
stood at least six feet tall. His prick looked like a knife with the blade 
pointing straight out. His pants were bulged with the hot erection.

Prissy glanced down at his crotch and felt a tingle of erotic pleasure 
pulse through her.

God, he’s all hard! she thought.

“So, do I look okay for the job?” she said.

“Yes, yes,” he whispered.

The man was somewhat frightened. He’d never really come on like this to a
woman before, especially a young girl. But he had decided when he first saw
Prissy that she was a special young girl a beautiful, alluring, sexy young �
girl.

She was, in fact, everything he had ever dreamed of in all his 
masturbation fantasies. “I get the job?” Prissy said apprehensively. “Yes, 
if I can kiss you. I’d like to kiss you.

Is that okay?”

“Ah, jeez… uh, kiss me?”

“Yes.”

“I can have the job modeling if I’ll kiss you, Mr. Ranson?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then.”

He took her in his arms, pulled her close, felt the firm shape of her 
fabulous body against his.

His cock punched at her merry widow.

His lips were wet, hot, open. He kissed her tenderly at first, his tongue
licking over her pink lip-slick. Then he smooched harder. His hands went 
behind her, feeling up and down the tight merry widow. Then he dipped them 
into the smooth slippery softness of her pantied ass. His tongue speared 
into her mouth. Prissy could feel his cock throbbing on her. His hands 
clutched at her round, curvy asscheeks. His fingers pinched into the nylon,
onto the firm slope of her tight ass. They broke their kiss. He looked down
into Prissy’s pretty face. He brought one hand around and dipped it between
them, tried to dunk it into her pants. “No!” Prissy whispered. She reached 
down and pushed his hand away. There’s a limit to what I’ll do to be a 
model, she thought.

“Oh, jeez, baby!” he panted. “Lemme, lemme feel ”�

“No!”

“Lemme, and next weekend you can come in and pick out another three 
hundred dollars’ worth of clothes on me, okay?”

“Jeez!” Prissy, her voice soft and low, murmured.

“Okay?” he asked.

What should she do?

“I… well… more free clothes?”

“Yes.”

His hands clutched and pinched her darling ass, cupping her curved 
asscheeks, and he pushed, pushed in hard, pumped Prissy against his 
rolling, wobbling erection that throbbed between them.

Prissy tried to buy a little time to think this all out. She let him ooze
his hands on her fine ass, let him roll her against his hard-on.

More clothes, she thought, and the modeling offer.

“Well,” she said, then hesitated, as he cupped her hard hot ass tighter. 
“Okay… okay.”

His hand flew into her panties, scooped down, his fingers threading into 
the mass of mossy curls there. He felt her honey fuck-muffin, then slipped 
a finger into her slick, juicy-cream slit. His other hand unzipped his fly 
and he dropped his pants. He wore no shorts. His cock slapped up against 
the bottom of her alluring merry widow.

“I didn’t say to take it out!” Prissy whispered, looking down, her chin 
tucked in, her eyes on his thick prick-erection.

The cockhead was creamy, bubbly. The stalk round like a big pickle. His 
one hand cupped her ass, his other hand pushed his erection downward so it 
leveled off and pushed at her thighs.

His hand fucked around in her panties. “So, Sir, is there really a 
modeling job?” Prissy asked, letting him feel her up. “Yes, of course.”

“It’s not a lie or nothin’, huh?”

“No.”

“And do I get the job?”

“If I can take your pants down,” he said, his voice husky, rippling-hot 
with emotion.

“Awww, come on,” Prissy said.

“No, really, you are just right for the job,” he said.

“If I letcha take my panties down and stuff?”

“Uh-huh.”

He already had his finger in her cunt, his hand was inside her panties in
the back, cupping her slick, hot, naked ass. What did she have to lose 
letting the man take her pants down? “Okay, take ‘em down then,” she said. 
He backed off, knelt down on one knee and tugged at the little, white 
panties, took them down over the garter straps, the tops of her nylons, 
tugged them to her knees, pulled them to her ankles.

Prissy stepped out of the sheer dainties.

Her blonde cunt stared the man in the face. He leaned in and kissed.

“I thought that’s whatcha wanted to do,” Prissy said.

“Mmmm, mmmmm!” he mumbled. “Boy, if you’re gonna kiss it and stuff, there
better be a modeling job, Mr. Ranson,” Prissy warned sternly.

“Mmmm, mmmmm!” His tongue slithered up and down her cunt-slit. His hands 
clutched her ass greedily. His face was full-flush on her fucking pussy.

“Okay, then, that’s what you wanta do,” Prissy whimpered, looking down, 
watching Mr.

Ranson munch her muffy.

The tickle of his tongue sent titillating tickles through the tempting 
tart. “Awww! Whewww!” Prissy whiffed. Then she didn’t know exactly how it 
happened, but the tall, sandy-haired man had her down on the thick carpet 
with him.

They lay together. He kissed her. He hovered over her, on top of her. His
cock slapped at her merry widow, at the lace slit down the front. He’s 
gonna try to fuck me! Prissy thought. “No, don’t!” she cried. But he had 
mounted her. He fisted his cock and slugged it into her schoolgirl pussy. 
The thick seven-inch penetration sliding into her creamy cunt was like a 
key opening up a new vista of pleasure for Prissy. “Aw! Shit! Uh-uh! No!” 
she yelped. “You got the job. You got the clothes. You can have as many 
clothes as you ever want. Fuck me!” Mr. Ranson whimpered, as he started 
fucking his cock into her cunt. “Uh-uh, no… ah, don’t!” His ass humped up 
and down. His trousers were in a crumple around his ankles.

Prissy lay under him in her shiny white merry widow, her nylons tight to 
the garterstraps, her white high heels.

“Prissy, baby!” Mr. Ranson quipped.

“Aw, shhheeeeeeez!” Prissy moaned.

His hard cock was like a glistening piston as it fucked in and out of her
cunt. He slid a hand under her ass. Prissy’s legs were in a wide V. He 
fucked harder, faster.

“Ah, we’re… we’re fuckin’, Prissy!” he huffed.

She had never felt anything like this. His hard, manly prick punching in 
and out of her pussy made her shake with ecstasy.

“Okay then,” Prissy whispered. “Fuck! Fuck me then!”

Fucking her was what the man wanted to do to her from the moment she had 
walked into his store. Now he was on her, squirming, pumping, slugging his 
cock in and out of her cunt. His big hard balls bopped against Prissy’s 
butt.

“Honey, baby!” he panted.

“Shit!” Prissy puffed.

“Oh, this is good… good fuckin’!”

“Boy, you better give me that job modeling,” Prissy warned.

“You got it, keep fuckin’!” Mr. Ranson rambled.

“You’re fuckin’… you’re the one fuckin’, Sir!”

“Prissy!” he yelled.

His cock bulged and shot off in her cunt. It was as if someone had stuck 
a hose in her pussy and squirted her cunt full of hot whipped cream.

Prissy felt that great feeling. She knew she was going to cum, going to 
shake and shuffle with him as he blasted his hot jizz into her cunt.

“Oh, shit!” Prissy cried. “Shit! Cumming! Shopping and cumming at the 
same time! Oh, oh, oh, ohhhhhhh! Cummin’… shoppin’… shoppin’… cummin’… ah, 
ahahhh!”

CHAPTER TEN

Being fucked on the floor at the clothing store, in the owner’s office… 
his offer to model, his generous gift of clothing, left Prissy glowing with
delight.

She hoped he wasn’t fooling her about the modeling job. She decided she 
wouldn’t let him fuck her again until she was sure about it, but she 
certainly would go back the next weekend and pick out some more free 
clothes.

Prissy decided to tell her parents, if they ever noticed or asked, that 
she’d won the clothes in a contest she’d entered in a magazine.

The darling young lass knew one thing for sure after her most recent 
experiences. Her life was changing, and men were hot for her the man at the �
pool, her uncle, the owner of the store.

Prissy went back to the clothing store at the mall the following week.

Mr. Ranson quickly appeared and smiled, once again appraising her 
youthful beauty, which was clad in light, faded blue jeans, a white 
sweater, and white tennis shoes with no socks.

“Are you going to pick out some more clothes, Prissy?”

“Yes, Sir. You said I could.”

“Good, you sure can.”

“How ‘bout the modeling job? Is that still ”�

“Come talk to me after you get your clothes.

I’ll be in my office.”

“Did you want me to get some lingerie again and stuff?” she asked.

“Yes, choose something sexy, then you can model it for me,” he whispered,
and left her to her shopping.

It felt great parading around the expensive store picking out what she 
wanted. She bought shoes, some belts, jewelry, two pairs of jeans, 
sweaters, a beautiful skirt for spring, then went to the lingerie 
department and picked out an outfit she thought would excite Mr. Ranson.

She went to his office and again went into the side room to change. She 
stripped down, then slipped on a beautiful black merry widow that zipped up
the front. It had underwire cups for the bra, and they lifted her young 
tits up high. The black garterstraps lay floppy until she hooked them into 
black nylons, then she put on black high heels. Her blonde hair was in her 
familiar bangs and pony tail.

Prissy snuggled into a pair of black panties, pulled them up and went out
to see Mr. Ranson. He stood up, his eyes blazing at her beauty.

He came to her and kissed her. Prissy let him hold her tight. His cock 
came thumping at her like the last time.

He felt her pussy.

Prissy stopped him. “You said that these were my clothes if I let you do 
it to me last time, remember?”

“Yes,” he said. “Well, I just ”�

“You can have more clothes again next weekend if you’ll let me fuck you,”
he said.

“I better not, I’m gettin’ too many.”

“Jewelry then accessories, okay?”

“How much worth?” Prissy asked.

“Oh, how’s another two or three hundred?”

His hand was flush between her legs, rubbing on her nylon panties, 
feeling her muffin cunt underneath. He slipped up and dipped into her 
panties.

Again, he unbuckled his slacks and let them fall. His cock popped out 
hard, thick, a full seven inches of throbbing fucksickness.

“What about the modeling job, Sir?” Prissy whispered.

“We’re meeting on that this week,” he panted.

He pulled her panties down to the tops of her nylons. Prissy looked 
stunning in her spandex, nylon merry widow of shimmering black. Her panties
were a tight twirl on her thighs, her pussy exposed in all its blonde 
loveliness.

“Baby,” he whimpered. “Let’s fuck again.”

“Uh-uh, no,” Prissy said. “What… huh?”

Mr. Ranson was fisting his cock, pushing the tip at Prissy’s fuzzy fuck 
pot.

“No, don’t!” she protested. “Not until I start modeling, then you can put
it in again.”

“Well… ah… well… ” Mr. Ranson stammered.

“If you want me to beatcha off and stuff for the jewelry, I will,” Prissy
whispered, “but I wanta wait until I got the modeling job before we… ah, 
you know… do it again.”

“Okay, okay,” he panted. “Will you jerk me off then?”

“Sure, if you wanna.”

“I do.”

“Then when the job starts we can… uh… “

“Fuck again?”

“Yeah.”

Mr. Ranson backed up and leaned against his desk.

Prissy came and stood beside him, reached across and down with her right 
hand and got an underhanded grip on his cock, her thumb sticking out like a
hitchhiker’s.

“Oh, honey!” he puffed, turning her, standing her in front of him.

He reached out and fingered her cunt. He started finger-fucking her pussy
as Prissy jiggled her arm and hand in a herky-jerky pump.

“Honey,” he repeated, “that’s good, real good!”

“I’m jackin’ your peter,” Prissy said. “And I’m fingerin’ your pussy!” 
They worked the finger-magic. Prissy liked his twiddling fingertip on her 
clit. She changed her grip on his cock so she could pound up and down on 
it, and that’s what she started doing. “Ohhhhh, yesssss!” Mr. Ranson cried.
“Does that feel good?” Prissy asked. “Wonderful!”

“I’m gonna go real fast,” she whispered. “Oh, yeah! Jerk me, baby! Jerk 
me!”

“Like this, Mr. Ranson, like this?”

“Honey! Yes!”

His finger kept fucking in and out of her pussy. Prissy’s hand hummed on 
his prick. “I wish we could fuck,” he said. “When I get the job, we can,” 
Prissy teased.

Now she hammered his cock with jerky jabs. The cockhead spat and spurted 
juice. Prissy caught some in her free hand, rubbed over the top as it spat,
gunked the goo along the stalk of his prick, then pounded fast and furious.

“Now, baby! Now, you sweet little bitch! Now! Fuck it faster with your 
hand!”

“I’m goin’ as fast as I can!” Prissy whispered.

He came.

“Ah, oh!” Prissy gulped, watching the creamy, thick eruption.

He shot off at her. Cum spewed at her merry widow, her thighs, her pussy.
His hand had her clit in a shudder as he shook with his climax. She pumped 
harder, then came with him, let the flames burn through her until she was 
completely satisfied.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

One weekend, Prissy read through another teen-queen magazine and learned 
all about a contest they were having, and it was taking place right in her 
state. The editors of the magazine were going to be at the state basketball
tournament and would feature the high-school cheerleaders there.

Prissy wanted so much to be featured. It would lead to a modeling career 
for sure, she said to herself. But I have to get to the state tournament.

She spent the rest of the weekend at home. It was boring and uneventful, 
just like the rest of the fall semester at Bradford. She hadn’t seen Mr. 
Lake again or her uncle. No boys had asked her for a date, and one of the 
girls on the cheering squad had told her: “I have the same problem. They’re
too afraid to ask us out ‘cause we’re so good-lookin’ and stuff.”

Prissy remembered reading an article about pretty girls who never got 
dates, and they had summarized that it was because of the very reason her 
friend had just stated.

The magazine had suggested that the girl make the first move. If there 
was someone they liked, they should simply ask them out.

“I guess,” Prissy answered.

*

It was the beginning of basketball season, the cheering season for the 
boys’ school down the block. Prissy hoped that the Bradford boys would have
a good team, go to the state tourney so she could be featured as a 
cheerleader in a national magazine.

After a few games, when the boys started winning consistently, she became
more hopeful about the possibility of being at the state tournament.

Just in case, Prissy as captain of the cheerleading squad put the girls � �
through many practice routines. They were a well-polished, dancing, 
swaying, lovely group of cheerleaders by tournament time.

The tournament was set for a week later. This would be the first tourney 
in a series of three that the team would have to win to go to the state 
tournament.

Prissy and the girls had their sexy routines down pat. They were ready, 
if only the boys could win.

*

It was a warm winter in the Southwest, not at all like those cold, 
wintery basketball nights in the rest of the country.

Prissy was leaving school one day, looking sweet and sexy in her 
blue-pleated skirt, blue knee socks, white sweater, blue-and-white saddle 
shoes.

She had stayed late to finish two assignments in biology. The sun was 
dipping down as she walked across the parking lot to her car.

Her Uncle Hank waited for her in his big Buick, parked next to her little
car. The window swished down. “Hi, Prissy,” he said. “Uncle Hank!” Prissy 
gasped, surprised to see him at her school. “How are you?” He smiled. 
“Fine.”

“Come on, sit down with me for a minute.” He slid over, opened the door, 
let it swing wide. Prissy slipped into the car, then sat prettily on the 
plush leather seat. “What are you doin’ here, Uncle Hank?”

“I came to see you, Prissy.” She looked at his rugged face, remembered 
how big her uncle’s cock had been the time they had their little session at
the bar in her house.

“How ‘bout goin’ somewhere with me?” he asked.

“Where?”

“Oh, for a ride, huh?”

“I gotta get home, Uncle Hank.”

“Prissy, please!” he pleaded, reaching over, grasping her little hand and
squeezing. “I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about that last time we were 
together.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Well, so?”

“I wanna do it again, Prissy.”

“Uh-uh, no. Jeez, you’re my uncle and stuff.”

“Please, Prissy.”

“No.”

“I’ll do anything.”

Prissy thought about that, looked at him again, how he seemed to pant for
her. “Whatdya mean?” she whispered. “Anything. What if I give you 
somethin’?”

“What?”

“Well… uh, anything.”

“You mean money, don’tcha?”

“Sure, sure, money,” he gulped, delighted he’d made a break-through. “A 
hundred dollars.”

“No.”

“Two hundred.”

“I can’t,” Prissy said, sitting regally in her schoolgirl uniform, tanned
legs crossed. “Three hundred.”

“We shouldn’t have done that stuff that last time, Uncle Hank. You know 
that.”

“Four hundred.”

“No, it just isn’t ”�

“Five!”

“Ah… it isn’t right… and… ” But Hank had his wallet out. He was peeling 
out a thick stack of twenty-dollar bills. He counted out five-hundred 
dollars and pressed it into Prissy’s hand.

“To beat you off and stuff?” Prissy whispered.

“Yes!” he gulped.

“Well ,jeez… jeez, Uncle Hank! Gawwwd, all right then! Where?”

“Here in the car?”

“No!” Prissy snapped. “Jeez, not in the car here at school, someone will 
see us!”

“Well, we can’t go to my house, can’t go to your house, we can’t be seen…
“

“There’s a park down the street, Uncle Hank. There’s some bushes there. 
We could go there, then no one would see us. I could walk down and you 
could meet me, leave our cars here.”

Hank agreed.

Prissy walked in the warmth of the setting sun to the park. She fingered 
the five-hundred dollars in her purse. Such a fat roll of money, she 
thought.

She got to the park, and Hank followed her. They met, and Prissy led him 
to a big clump of bushes that were planted in a circle.

Inside was an empty, cool, shaded retreat.

“In here,” Prissy said.

CHAPTER TWELVE

no They snuck through an opening in the bushes.

“I know this place from playin’ here when I was a little girl,” Prissy 
said.

They got inside, and Hank grabbed her, kissed her. His hands flipped up 
under her little blue skirt, feeling the cheeks of her ass.

His mammoth cock thumped upward.

“Jeez, Uncle Hank. This is bad. Here in the bushes and stuff,” Prissy 
whispered, reaching down, feeling his long, rigid erection.

Her heart pounded.

Hank slid a hand between her legs, got her skirt up and rubbed on her 
pink panties. He felt her cunt through the thin nylon.

“Shit!” he huffed. “You’re so fine!”

“Should I masturbate you again, Uncle Hank?”

“Yes, darling, but first I must feel you all over, taste your lips, 
experience your charms.”

His hand rubbed her pussy, his other hand cupped her ass. He pulled her 
close to him. He dipped into her panties. His fingers glided over the fuzz 
of her pussy.

“You better take it out. It’s all hard in your pants and stuff,” Prissy 
said. “Yes, yes,” he said. “First, let’s sit on the ground.”

“Jeez, on the ground?”

He pulled Prissy with him to the soft grass.

“Wait,” he said, “lemme take my pants down.”

He got up. Prissy sat cross-legged on the ground in her uniform, her 
white sweater and her blue skirt. Hank unbuckled his slacks, took them 
down. His Jockey shorts looked as though he had a rocket or something in 
them. He stripped the white shorts down, and his killer cock sprang out and
flipped upward, throbbed, then wobbled.

Hank sat back down. “Here, why don’t you just kinda sit on me.”

“Huh?”

“Well, first, stand back up, lemme take your panties down, okay?”

“I guess. You wanna finger me and stuff?”

“Yes.”

Prissy stood over him. He slid his hands up her smooth legs, her thighs, 
until he had his fingers curled around her pink panties. He pulled them 
down to her ankles and took them off.

“Now what?”

“Sit back down, kinda on me,” Hank said.

He stretched his legs in a wide V. Prissy straddled him, then came down 
on top of him, sat on his thighs, back near his knees. His giant cock stood
up between them like a foot-long hotdog.

Hank flipped her skirt back, up high. Then he lifted her sweater up on 
her shoulders so her pink bra was at his fingertips as it cradled her ripe 
teenette titties. He pulled her tits out of the bra-cups, squeezed them 
tenderly.

Prissy stroked her hand up and down the massive length of his 
prick-stalk.

“Well… uh, should I beat on it?” she whispered.

“Just keep touchin’ it all over like that. I’ll tell you when to jerk it,
okay?”

“Sure, just run my fingers up and down the sides and stuff, kinda tickle 
your peter?”

“Yessss!” he whispered hotly.

That’s what Prissy did, and he slugged a finger in her wet pussy. His 
other hand jiggled her fine tits. They sat there on the ground, each 
trembling, shaking with excitement, eroticism, delight.

Prissy brought both hands into action, sliding them up and down his prick
her palms just barely gripping the thick stalk. Now and then she’d clutch 
both hands around his big prick, then squeeze.

“Mmmmm, Prissy!”

His finger thrilled her, the way he fucked back and forth, the finger 
slicking in and out of her cunt. Prissy kept fluttering her fingers up and 
down the big, hard stalk of his throb-fucking cock.

“I’d sure like to fuck you!” he blurted.

“No, Uncle Hank! Jeez!” Prissy whispered. “Anyway, it’s soooo big and 
stuff!”

He looked at her lovely young face, her pink cheeks, blue eyes, her 
blonde bangs, her glossy pink mouth.

“Would you kiss it for me, Prissy?”

“Uh-uh,” Prissy whispered, her tickling fingers making Hank’s erection 
bulge and swell as if it was a thick hunk of sausage.

“Just kiss it.”

“No, I’m not gonna kiss it, Uncle Hank! Jeez!”

“Please!”

“No, I’m playin with it, that’s what you wanted, right?”

“If I told you everything I wanted to do with you, Prissy, we’d be here 
all night.”

“Well, I ain’t gonna kiss it!”

“Just a little one.”

His rigid prick stood up a full foot between them. Prissy’s hands kept 
twiddling the tall us stalk. Her eyes were big with wonder as she watched 
his cockhead bulge, become crimson, oozing cream and bubbling.

“I’ll give you some more money if you’ll kiss it, Prissy.”

“No, now come on, Uncle Hank.”

“Another hundred dollars.”

“Just to kiss?”

“Yes, a nice long kiss, a minute-long kiss.”

“Okay, I guess,” Prissy said, then bent over, dipped her head, puckered 
her sweet lips and planted their pink softness around his huge prickhead.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Hank moaned.

“I’ll just kiss it then for a while, huh?” Prissy said, looking up.

“Yes!”

She smooched the top of his prick. Hank fiddled with her bangs, her 
ponytail as she slicked her lips on his creaming cock.

“Ahhh, Prissy! Sweetheart!” he mumbled, his voice trembling with joy and 
delight.

Prissy tasted the hot, sticky cum as her lips kissed his pricktip. She 
finally looked up at Hank again, glanced at him, her eyebrows raised, then 
she wiggled her tongue wildly over the top of his cock.

“Ah!” he cried. “Yeahhhh! Do that! Do that, Prissy!”

Prissy’s tongue slicked around the bulging head of his cock, licking away
the juice. She swashed her tongue in one big roll over the top, around the 
head, then she lifted off. “That’s enough,” she said. “That’s one of the 
best things I’ve ever… that was one of the… that was a real thrill, 
Prissy.”

“What, me kissin’?”

“Yes. That felt so damn good.”

“I never kissed one before,” Prissy purred, her hands still active as her
fingertips moved up and down Hank’s cock stalk. “I’d love to have you suck 
it.”

“I never done that, Uncle Hank.”

“Would you?”

“No, I better not, and it’s gettin’ late and stuff and I gotta get goin’ 
soon.”

His very slow slick-clicking finger now picked up speed as he drilled 
Prissy’s pussy.

“Should I jerk on your peter now, Uncle Hank?”

“Yeah, jerk my prick, Prissy!”

She wound both hands around his obscene cock and started a slow 
hammering up and down, up and down, up and down, with both hands. �

“Jeez, Uncle Hank… you got such a big prick!” Prissy blurted. “Do you… 
ah… I mean, Aunt Emily… do you put this thing in her?”

“Yes.”

“All of it?”

“Yes.”

“Jeez, no kiddin’?”

Prissy sat on top of him, her legs out in a V around him. She pounded up 
and down on his prick. He had his hand in her crotch, his finger working in
a hot slick-slide.

“What if I gave you more money, Prissy? Would you suck on it and do that 
at the same time?” Hank asked.

“Okay, if you want me to suck it, I will, but not for very long, okay?” 
Prissy whispered, then bent over again.

Her pink lips sealed like a plunger over the top of his swollen cock. Her
cheeks dimpled in. She sucked and sucked and sucked, all the time keeping 
her hands in a pump-jerk on his prick.

“Darling, baby! Sweet little sucker!” Hank groaned with pleasure. 
“Yeahhh, yeah! Suck cock, Prissy! Suck prick!”

Prissy raised off his prick.

“It’s squirtin’ in my mouth!” she whimpered.

“That’s okay,” Hank said.

She went back down on him, sucked the prickhead with her sweet lips.

“Suck, suck, Prissy! Suck, you little sonofabitch!”

“Mmmmm!” Prissy mumbled, looking up at his face.

“That’s the way! You sucker!” Prissy lifted off.

“That’s enough!” she huffed. “Now I’ll beat you off, okay?”

“Yeah, beat it! And I’ll finger you!”

Prissy flogged his cock, kept a tight grip, hammered down in short, quick
chops. She felt his prick surge. The cock-top bulged and blasted out a load
of cream all over her belly, her thighs, her skirt.

“Shit, here you cum, Uncle Hank!”

“Ahhhh, yeah!” he barked. Just seeing the huge hunks of cream flying from
his cock excited Prissy. His finger did the rest. She buzzed all over as 
she came with him, loving every second of that pleasureful feeling. “Beat 
it!” he cried.

“Mrmnmm! Mmmm! Ahhh! Ah, shhheeez!” Prissy mumbled, still jacking while 
she climaxed.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Prissy was deluged by good things.

Mr. Ranson called from Snazzy’s and told her that she could start 
modeling the following weekend. She was elated.

The basketball team had won their first two tournaments and had only to 
win the sectional against three other teams and they would go to the state 
meet.

She wanted that so bad to be a featured cheerleader in a national �
magazine would open doors. She just knew it would lead to big things with 
modeling. And now she was going to have experience too. It was the final 
game of the tournament, the championship.

Bradford was up against South High from a bigger city. At the half, South
had Bradford down by sixteen points and things looked bad.

There was only one thing to do that Prissy could figure. She walked down 
the tunnel of the gym and found the referee’s dressing room, and when no 
one was looking, she knocked.

The door opened.

She slipped in.

“Hi!” She smiled.

One ref was young, probably thirty, the other looked near forty. They 
were thin from so much exercise, sweaty, both dabbing their faces with 
towels.

“Yes?” the older one said.

“Ah, well, see it’s like this… Bradford’s gotta win this game.”

“They better start playin’ better then.” The young ref smiled.

“But we gotta win. I’m the head cheerleader.”

“I can see that,” the older man said, eyeing her dark-blue sweater, 
dark-blue skirt, dark-blue knee socks, her white tennies.

“Look, if you could make some calls… I mean foul South’s big center out, 
you know some calls, we could win.”

“You mean throw the game?” the young ref said.

“Well, just make some calls.”

“Why would we want to do that?”

“Well, if you do, you can fuck me,” Prissy said boldly.

Both men were utterly shocked. They sat in silence for a full minute.

Prissy trembled with fright. She knew she was taking a big chance, but 
she was relying on past experience, how men seemed to get so hot for her.

There was more silence from the refs. They looked at each other, then 
back at the beautiful, young cheerleader.

Prissy thought maybe she should show them something. She reached down and
lifted the pleats on her blue cheerleading skirt, pulled it up over her 
slick yellow panties.

Am I really doin’ this? she questioned herself.

She tugged the bloomers down on her golden thighs and showed the refs her
sweet pussy.

“You can fuck it if Bradford wins,” Prissy whispered.

Again the refs looked at each other, then back to Prissy’s cunt, her 
pretty face, her radiant young body.

“When?” the older one said.

“Like after the game… if we win.”

“And what if you don’t show up?” the young one ventured.

“I promise.”

The older ref reached out and petted Prissy’s precious pussy, his fingers
weaving into the fuzzy blonde patch between her legs.

“No,” the older one said. “I don’t believe you.”

Prissy was desperate. “Okay, tell you what. I won’t even cheerlead the 
second half. You can lock me in here so I’ll be here when you get back, 
then you can fuck me.”

“Wanna, Bill?” the older one asked.

“Hell, I dunno, Wally. Shit, we don’t get paid but a bit of change. Why 
not? I’m for it.”

“Okay, young lady. We’ll lock you in here.”

The refs started to leave.

“Oh, you can listen to the game. There’s a radio over on that table.” 
Bill smiled.

“Thanks,” Prissy smiled.

Wally stopped at the door. “Say, what’s your name?”

“Prissy… Priscilla.”

“We’ll see you after the game… Prissy.”

They left and Prissy turned on the radio. She sat in the dressing room, 
listening and waiting. She was delighted when the big center who played for
South High fouled out. She was more excited when Bradford pulled into a tie
with South, then went ahead. If they can keep the lead, she thought, we go 
to the state tournament.

The game ended, and Bradford had eked out a two-point victory.

The refs came back to the dressing room dripping sweat.

Prissy sat on a wooden bench in front of some lockers, waiting for them.

“Well?” Wally said.

“You did it. We won!” Prissy cried. “And now you take care of your end of
the bargain,” Bill stated. “Okay,” Prissy said.

One referee, the young one, went into a shower off to the side of the 
room to shower. Wally stayed with Prissy. . “Ah… should I take my bloomers 
down, Sir?” Prissy whispered.

Wally was already taking off his black trousers. He kicked off his tennis
shoes, then his pants. He stood in front of Prissy in his referee shirt, a 
white jockstrap, and black socks.

His prick was already getting hard in the cup of the jock strap.

Prissy stood up. She hiked her skirt up and wiggled her yellow panties 
off.

Wally stripped down his jockstrap, and his cock snapped out, thumping to 
a full hard-on.

Wally came over to Prissy. His hands went to her fine tits, and he played
with them as if they were a new Christmas toy. He tenderly cupped their 
firm, round loveliness. He bobbled them on his palms, squeezed, then lifted
her sweater up above her yellow bra, dipped into the bra-cups and took her 
beautiful young tits out.

He leaned down and kissed the proud, hard, little nipples, then sucked 
them.

One of his hands slid between her legs, and he fingered around.

Prissy felt his cock punch at her full hard-on, a good stiff eight �
inches.

“Ah, on the floor?” Wally whispered.

“Okay,” Prissy agreed.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

There were only two wooden benches, one chair, a little table, some hooks
on the wall, and an adjoining shower. The floor was made of hardwood, like 
a school room.

Prissy dipped to her knees. Wally pushed her down so she lay on her back.
He spat on his fingers and stuck them into her cunt-slit, lubricating the 
soft, warm opening. He did it again, getting her sweet slit spitty and 
slobbery.

Then he lowered over her, fisted his cock and punched it into her cunt.

Prissy lay back, her sweater up, her little blue skirt in playful pleats 
around her tummy. Her legs were wide apart, white tennies flat on the 
floor, legs cocked up at the knees, looking good in her blue knee socks.

Wally started fucking her.

“Oh, yeah!” he puffed. “This is good!”

His cock jabbed in hot, hard strokes. His balls spanked Prissy’s butt.

“Damn, ohhh, mmmm!” he mumbled.

Prissy swung her hips off the floor, waved her ass, bumped up and down 
against his slick cock.

Wally fucked harder, faster. “Oh, baby! This is one of the best fucks I 
ever had!”

He slid a hand under Prissy’s plush ass. He hammered up and down, his 
hairy ass bouncing, his balls banging, his prick bobbing in and out.

“We’re fuckin’!” he whispered. “I know!” Prissy gasped. “God, you’re 
good!” he huffed. “Thank you, Sir.”

He hot-fucked her now in a hammering hump.

Prissy stayed with him, bumping up and down on the floor as his cock 
drilled her cunt.

“You’re a good fuck,” he whispered.

“Fuck me, fuck me then!” Prissy purred.

Harder, faster, hotter.

Thump! Pump! Hump! Bump!

Two fuckers in the cove of paradise, locked together on the floor, cock 
and cunt igniting a fire within both of them, a low-burning flame that 
suddenly raged into a sweeping blaze that consumed them.

Wally shuddered wildly, moaned, then shot off in Prissy’s pussy.

Prissy bounced obscenely under him and let the heat of the fire burn 
through her, simmer her, enflame her, as she rode the sparks of her climax.

“Ah, baby!” he gulped. “Ahhhhh! Oooh!” Prissy mumbled.

Wally slumped over on top of her, then lifted off. He pulled out, 
satisfied, elated, in hog-fucking heaven having just fucked the sweet 
cheerleader.

Bill came out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his midsection.

Prissy lay on the floor. He took the towel off. His nine-inch prick 
stiffened as he eyed the pretty cheerleader in her suggestive pose.

“Let’s do it on the chair,” he said, then sat down on the single wooden 
chair in the room.

Prissy got up. “How do you want me on the chair?”

“You straddle me.”

“Uh, just kinda sit on you and stuff, fuck that way?” He smiled. “Yes.”

“Like this?” Prissy asked, sliding in, her legs straddling in a wide 
horseshoe over his.

“Yeah!” he said, his hands on her ass.

His cock throbbed up at Prissy. She stood straddling the ref. He reached 
up and felt her titties, ran his hand down her side to her hip, into her 
blue pleats, pushed them high on her waist.

Prissy squatted over him, her tennies flat on the floor, knees bent, hips
humped forward.

Bill clutched his prick and thrust it up into her cunt.

“Ahhhff!” Prissy cried.

His big nine-inch prick spiked deep. Really plugged Prissy’s pulsing 
pussy. Felt so hot and hard in there to her.

“You fuck me,” he said.

“I I never done that,” Prissy said. �

But he was already clutching her ass, manipulating her so that she humped
up and down, round and round on his big hard-on.

“Like that,” he said.

“Okay!” Prissy agreed, then kept rolling, screwing on his prick.

“She’s a great little fuck, huh?” Wally said.

“Yaahhh!” Bill sighed.

Prissy stood over the naked ref, her body undulating, his big prick 
slicking in and out with the hump and pump of her hips. She fucked slowly, 
watching how his cock went in deep, then slid back out… a creamy wonder.

He still clutched her ass. Prissy put her hands on his shoulders for 
balance. Her tits hung out of her bra as she bent slightly forward.

Wally came over and stood beside them. His prick was hard again. Prissy 
looked over at him, saw the eight-incher hard as a rock, then looked back 
at the nine-incher fucking in and out of her cunt.

“If she does that with her back to you, she can suck me off at the same 
time,” Wally said. “Sure,” Bill smiled.

He showed Prissy how to turn around, to get off him, then get back on his
cock so her ass was pointing at him. He pulled her in, his hands tight on 
her waist. He got her skirt layered up, guided her ass down, and once again
his prick slicked into her pussy.

Wally moved between their legs. Prissy’s legs hung over the tops of 
Bill’s. She leaned forward, opened her mouth. Wally punched his prick into 
the pink warmth of her mouth.

Prissy bounced up and down on Bill’s big brick-prick, and her mouth 
sucked hotly on Wally’s cock. She was lost in a new thrill. A prick in her 
mouth. A prick in her cunt.

She fucked up and down, sucked in and out, and the referees were 
ecstatic.

Bill’s cock bloated in her pussy and he filled her with more cum. Wally 
blasted another load into Prissy’s mouth. She gulped, gurgled, and pulled 
away from Wally’s spurting prick, cream dripping from her chin, her pink 
lips, her nose.

Bill humped off the chair, spiked deeper.

Prissy came. The shudder of climax splashed through her like the cum that
had splashed into her cunt and the cream that had splashed into her mouth.

Prissy cleaned up and left. She was just in time to catch her ride with 
the rest of the cheerleaders. They questioned her about where she had been,
why she had just disappeared during the second half.

Prissy smiled. “I just wasn’t feelin’ well. I had to go for a walk. I was
dizzy and stuff… but I’m fine now, and just think, guys… we get to go to 
the state tournament!”

“Yeah, yeah!” the girls cheered.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Prissy had things going her way. She would start in one week modeling on 
Saturdays at Snazzy’s in the mall, the Bradford boys were going to the 
state tournament, and she would be there, performing, looking beautiful, 
sexy a teenaged goddess. She knew the magazine would print her pictures and �
she would maybe get a big modeling offer.

In addition, Prissy in her eighteenth year-had learned a lot about life, �
especially men.

They liked beautiful, young girls who had it all.

All these new things tingled her.

She loved performing in front of people that’s why she was a �
cheerleader. But now that school would be ending soon, she’d be out, she 
had a chance to continue performing by modeling. She was determined to make
a career out of it. She decided she wouldn’t stop until she was featured on
the covers of the most prestigious magazines.

It was just before the state tournament, the weather was still warm, and 
Prissy was walking in her white sweater, her school skirt, blue knee socks 
and white-and-blue saddle shoes, swaying across the parking lot.

She reached her car and found her Uncle Hank waiting again for her.

She slipped into the car beside him.

“You shouldn’t always be hangin’ around,” she warned.

“I wanted to see you again, Prissy.”

“Well, you’re seein’ me.”

“You know what I mean.”

“We really shouldn’t do no more of that stuff, Uncle Hank, really,” 
Prissy said.

“Now, now,” he whispered. “But, you know… you’re my uncle and stuff.”

“I’m also crazy about you.”

She looked over at him. His handsome, manly features expressed his desire
for her. Shit, he looks like he’s in love with me, Prissy thought.

“But we better not anymore.”

“Look,” he said, pulling out his wallet. “I’ve got lots of money for you 
today.”

Prissy saw the bulging billfold. It was full of green bills.

“Yeah, but still… “

“You know I’m doing well in business. You know I’m well off,” he said.

“Well, but still… “

He opened his wallet and peeled out a stack of fifties. Prissy lost track
of the count when it reached four hundred. But Hank kept going. Finally he 
offered the crisp stack of cash to her.

“Here.”

“Well… jeez, okay… one more time, I guess.”

Prissy put the money in her purse. “Where? The bushes again?” she asked.

“You know where my office is, don’t you?”

“Sure.”

“Well, everyone will be gone, why don’t you drive there? I’ll meet you. 
Just come in the back way.”

“Okay,” Prissy agreed.

Hank left and Prissy drove to her uncle’s manufacturing firm. She parked 
in the lot out back. She blushed her cheeks with Maybelline pink, her lips 
with Hot Lips gloss, a cheery cherry-red lipstick, and fixed her ponytail.

She walked to the office. The door was ajar. She walked in. Hank sat 
behind his desk. His office was dimly lit, the carpet a deep wine-burgundy,
thick, plush. He got up. Prissy closed the door.

Hank came around the desk, swept her into his arms and kissed her fresh 
lips. His hands played on her ass. His big prick slithered upward.

Hank dipped to his knees. He lifted her school skirt over her tight, 
snug, pink panties, licked his lascivious tongue up her thighs, then 
wobbled it into the crotch of her pink panties.

He flapped wildly at the crotch, licking, kissing, then finally sucking.

Prissy held her skirt up for him, looked down and watched his eager 
smooching.

“Jeez… you’re suckin’ on my panties!” she whispered. “That’s, ah… wow! 
Ah, oooh! Hey… don’t chew ‘em like ooooh, shit! Uncle Hank!” �

He nibbled her pink crotch and his munching made Prissy tremble with hot 
excitement. He tugged on the panties, then took them down, wagged his 
tongue into her fuzzy pussy.

He kissed, sucked, smoothed his tongue flat against her delicious pussy.

“Ah, jeeeez!” Prissy wailed. “Shit, Uncle Hank!”

His hands cupped her darling ass, feeling the round, smooth curves of her
asscheeks, his fingers pinching her pliant rump.

Prissy came.

The electric flash of ecstasy sizzled through her lovely body.

“Ohhhh! Ohhh!” she sighed, pushing her pussy against Hank’s greedy mouth,
his flapping tongue, his sucking lips.

Hank stood up. He stripped off all his clothes. Prissy watched him 
undress. His eyes were hot for her.

He’s got a bad case of fucksickness for me, she thought.

Prissy unhooked her skirt, let it fall to the floor, stepped out of it, 
stood sexy in her white sweater bulging with teen tits, her blue knee 
socks, her saddle shoes, and her pink panties in a tight roll on her 
thighs.

Hank fished out his big cock, got hold of it, stopped its wild wobbling 
and thumping, and he slowly jerked on the thick, long stalk.

Prissy eyed his twelve-inch cock.

“Want me to beat if off again?” she whispered.

“I wanna fuck you!” he blurted.

“No, I told you no before.”

“Just this once, Prissy.”

“Uh-uh. I’ll jerk on it and stuff, even suck it again if you want me too,
but… but… you know, we shouldn’t screw and stuff.”

“Look, I’ll just lean against the desk, see? Like this. I’ll slide down, 
see? Then you come over here and stand next to me. I’ll just put a little 
bit in.”

“No.”

“I’ll pay you.”

“No.”

“I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you’ll let me fuck you, Prissy.”

He’d already given her over a thousand, counting the last time. Now he 
was offering this small fortune. Prissy didn’t know what to do. Sure she 
could fuck him, but he was her uncle. She hadn’t minded masturbating him, 
playing with his cock, but… but fucking?

“A thousand dollars?” she repeated.

“Yes.”

“Okay, then, darn it. That’s what you want.”

She moved to him. They stood a foot apart. Hank held his cock, guided the
throbbing, creamy pricktip to her blonde pussy.

Prissy looked down and watched as the big head mashed into her blonde 
curls and penetrated her cunt-slit. It was as if someone screwed the tip of
a big cucumber into her cunt.

“Wheeeewww!” she sighed.

“Oh! Oh!” Hank huffed.

“Go ahead, go ahead then… put it in me!” Prissy barked.

Hank started fucking her, slipping her three full inches of his long, 
hard horse-cock.

It felt good in her cunt, so hot, hard, so filling.

“Uncle Hank, you know… ah… we shouldn’t be fuckin’ like this, really.”

“But we are, and it’s sooo good! You’re so good! I love you, Prissy!”

“Love me!?”

“Yes.”

“You mean real love and stuff?”

“Yes!”

He had his hands on her hips, moving Prissy back and forth, fucking her 
fine body in a slow hump-pump at his monster prick. Prissy got the idea. 
She put her arms around his neck and started fucking her ass in and out, 
screwing around and around on the hard prick until she had five inches in 
her cunt.

“Real love? Jeez, Uncle Hank! I… well, what about Aunt Emily and stuff?”

“I love you.”

“But you can’t!”

“I wanna fuck you forever.”

“No, no!” Prissy moaned, delirious with the thrill of Hank’s big, hard 
prick diddling her pussy.

“Wanna just fuck you always, like this,” he whispered, clutching her ass 
tighter, shoving two more inches of his super-cock into her.

Prissy dipped her chin, looked down, watched the creamy slide of his 
handsome hard-on as it pushed in and pulled out of her sucking pussy.

“You’re fuckin’ me, Uncle Hank!” she blurted.

“Oh, yes, darling! Tell me to fuck you!”

“Huh?”

“Tell me. Tell me to fuck you.”

“Well… ah… “

“Come on!”

“Well, fuck me then!”

“Oh, yes! Oh, Prissy!” he panted, sliding a bit lower, his knees cocked, 
his ass working now to pump his cock at her cunt.

“Yes, yes, darling! Tell me! I love it!”

His eyes were glazed. Prissy looked into his passionate face.

“Fuck me then, Uncle Hank! Keep fuckin’ me then! That’s what you’re 
doin’!”

“Yes, fuckin’ you!”

“Your big peter and stuff!” Prissy whispered.

He came in her. His cock slurped out at least a pint of cream that 
spilled into Prissy’s pussy, then dripped out. His fuck-stroke was slick 
and gooshy now, and he kept it up, a hard, slicing stroke.

Prissy luxuriated in the tingle of her own orgasm. Oh, how she loved that
feeling… the exquisite feel that rumbled through her.

Hank spewed out all his load, but his cock stayed hard, and he kept 
fucking.

“More?” Prissy whispered. “You gonna fuck me again? You already shot off,
Uncle Hank!”

“It’s still hard for you, Prissy.”

“Wanna have me talk some more?” she asked, feeling another climax riddle 
her body, grip her, shake her, shudder her whole being.

“Yes!” Hank gasped.

“Shit! I’m cumming again here, Uncle Hank! Shit, shit-fuck!”

“Yeah, talk like that to me, Prissy! Makes me hot, hard! Makes me die 
with love for you. I love you so damn much!”

“Shit-fuck fuck!” Prissy huffed lewdly.

His cock was into her ten inches now. He was giving her the best fuck she
had ever had.

“You dirty fuck-guy, Uncle Hank… fuckin’ your little niece like this!”

“Honey-love,” he sighed.

She could tell that her talking dirty got him so hot he was about to 
faint. She liked the feeling of control she had as they fucked. She banged 
her hips in and out, screwed her miracle ass around and around, gave Hank a
super-fuck.

“Fucker!” she barked.

“Oh, darling!”

“You wanna keep fuckin’ me, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“That’s what you like, fuckin me, don’tcha?”

“Ohhhh, yes!”

“Well, fuck me then. I keep tellin’ you to fuck me then, Uncle Hank. Come
on, fuck me!”

He pushed Prissy to the floor, mounted her wiggling body, thrust his cock
into her pussy and started banging up and down on the carpet.

“Uncle Hank!” she screeched. “Not so much of that big hard thing!”

“Prissy, Prissy!” he whined.

They fucked up and down, bumped, humped, pumped, clumped there on the 
floor.

“Yeahhh!” he moaned. “Fuckin’ you, Prissy!”

“Fuckin’ me, Uncle Hank… but you gotta pay me if you’re gonna keep 
fuckin’!”

“I will, always!” he guppled.

“Okay, then. Fuck fuck fuck fuck… like that, when I talk like that!”

He did. He was so hot he was jerking up and down in wild fuck-pumps. His 
big cock was slugging in and out of Prissy’s pussy.

“I’m not gonna ever say that again unless you pay me, Uncle Hank,” Prissy
cooed.

“I will… hell, I’ll put you on the payroll here at the company. How’s 
that?”

“Fuck me, Uncle Hank! You just keep fuckin’ me, damn it!” Prissy squealed
with delight.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The week of the state tournament was a big one for Prissy. The magazine 
was there and the man who was taking pictures seemed to like her.

He took a lot of photos, and Prissy performed for him. She knew she was 
going to be in the big photo spread for sure now. She could tell.

Bradford won their first game, so Prissy had another chance to perform, 
and the magazine was there for the second day of the tourney. She figured 
the man must have taken over a hundred pictures of her.

Life couldn’t have turned out better.

Prissy was ultimately featured in the magazine, two beautiful photos of 
her. She was excited to wait and see if any offers might come in.

She got lots of fan mail from young boys who read the magazine, then 
finally a call came from New York. It was a modeling agency that 
specialized in handling young girls. They offered to fly her to the city 
for an audition.

This elated Prissy, because she knew they’d sign her and she’d go on to 
stardom in modeling. Hey, even if she didn’t, she had a pretty good deal 
going in her hometown. But Prissy knew now she was on her way. School would
be over soon, and she figured by fall she’d be living in New York.

As she walked down the hallway in school towards the end of the semester,
looking dreamy in her uniform, she thought, Life isn’t that tough, if you 
know what you want, and if you’re not afraid to go at it.

Maybe someday she’d write a book about it so other girls could learn how 
to make their dreams come true.


THE END
