RX-414 He Seduced His Little Sister
by Maryon Swelt


Chapter 1

Foreword

This is a very personal document. It is an autobiography. Maryon Swelt 
is a very real person, and she has written her very own very real 
story, just as it happened to her. This is not a work of fiction.


In the several letters we have exchanged with Miss Swelt since we 
received the manuscript of He Seduced His Little Sister, she has made 
her thoughts and her motives quite clear to us.

We have taken the liberty of quoting some of her comments from some of 
her personal letters so Miss Swelt's aims will also be clear to you, 
the reader. Miss Swelt has written:

"It was not easy for me to write this book, dealing as it does with 
some of the most intimate passages of my life. It was ... and still is 
... embarrassing to recall these frighteningly-exciting sometimes 
shameful times of my sexual awakening.

"In the past decade the morals of our citizens have gone through 
strange and drastic changes ... and I have grown with them in the same 
manner ... to a golden realization that the world of sexual experience 
is a great, expanding globe whose pleasurable horizons can never quite-
-hopefully--be reached.

"In the hopes that repressed persons may read, learn, as I have, I have 
attempted to record my sex experiences from the age of ten until now--I 
am twenty-one.

"To make it easier for me, I have elected to write my story in the 
third person. Also, frankly, I found it less embarrassing to write of 
myself in this manner.

"All is true ..."


Ten Years Old

Maryon had always adored her brother Michael, five years her senior. 
Almost as soon as she'd been able to toddle she'd taken to following 
him around, a habit about which he'd had mixed feelings, finding her 
devotion flattering on the one hand and a pain in the ass on the other. 
The Swelts were not a very close family at any time--Burt had long 
since found Lois, his wife of an early-aged marriage, something of a 
bore, and she, him, a boor. Their attitudes, carefully unvoiced in 
front of the children, nonetheless were sensed by them, so that Mike 
and his sister unconsciously drew more companionship and the sustenance 
of reassurance from each other than might ordinarily have been the 
case.

Burt spent more and more time as the years sped by in 'afterhours' 
development of his sales. He worked on commission for the Metropolis' 
Lincoln dealer, often working through Saturdays to demonstrate an auto 
to one of his special customers, one of those who regularly traded-in 
each model year. The fact that most of his clients seemed to be middle-
aged women of means had once perturbed Lois and been the source of 
considerable friction between them, but by now she had accepted the 
position with--the rationalization that he was successful, and did 
provide a good enough income for his family. Lois had invented her own 
romantic notions of the world, using her medieval fantasy to explain to 
herself why she had no right nor business to go poking her nose into 
the 'man's world' which existed merely to provide 'ladies' with the 
means for their ease, comfort, and sustainment. Lots of Lois' words, 
written, uttered or merely thought, were set within 'quotes', or 
italicized.

While Burt equally dwelt in a world of unreality and insubstantiality, 
his mind a constant fabrication of half-truths, flatteries, and flimsy 
sales-pitches, their worlds were far apart. In the matter of the 
children's names he had compromised with her in the case of his son, 
her artistic Michael being easily convertible to plain, mannish Mike, 
but by the time his daughter arrived he'd thrown up his hands and let 
Lois decide on the artsy-chintzy Maryon Alysun.

Lois tended to be off in another land altogether when it came to 
dealing with her offspring, and though Burt tried hard, awkwardly and 
unsuccessfully, to be pals with his son, he fussed over Maryon whenever 
the opportunity arose, as though guilty, or perhaps trying to make her 
over into a different girl than the one he'd married.

The youngster looked forward with delight to the infrequent occasions 
when he was home and she out of bed, but in his absence turned her 
attentions to her brother, making him an extension of his father, 
though, of course, she didn't realize this, then.

Most of the Swelts' neighbors in the tract-home suburb of Glenville 
were younger, more keenly upward-mobile, childless to be free of 
restraints while the men climbed and their women pushed. Michael, at 
fifteen, spent much of his time at his friends' homes in close-by 
areas, free as a bird on his bike, but Maryon, who by nature seemed to 
be introspective, and a lone wolf even at ten, spent most of her time 
dutifully around the house, amusing herself with her dolls and her 
books, half-ignoring the fluttery flow of words her mother trailed 
behind her at such times as she wasn't being hypnotized by the tube's 
view of the world as Illustrated by the soaps.

Reaction to her mother's constant reiterations for her to 'act like a 
little lady' and 'mind her manners' and 'not act the tomboy' came 
through in the way she treated her own dolls, admonishing them in the 
same phrases on the one hand, and on the other taking a devilish 
enjoyment in acting out for them the unladylike, unmannerly and 
tomboyish that earned them their reprimands. Despite the fantasy worlds 
of her own she was able to create with her imagination, her family of 
mannequin actors, and the spaces between the words of her books, she 
secretly envied the toys--as she considered them--of her brother, and 
it was chiefly this repressed longing that involved her for the first 
time in the strange, fascinating-and-frightening, mind-molding magic of 
sex.

It happened on a Saturday morning, a couple of weeks before Christmas, 
1961. Dad was out at work, intent on getting as many sales commissions 
as possible before the holiday season, and Lois had swept out to do 
some Christmas shopping. Michael had left early on his bicycle for 
parts unknown and Maryon had been left to her own resources for a few 
hours.

She was restless, and some demon in her urged her to explore the house, 
poking into corners and closets in the hope that she might discover the 
hiding place of the presents that would be hers in such a short time. 
But children's lives are half-made up by the drives of curiosity and 
impatience, and so she made her tour, clad in her pajamas. Ten minutes 
of keen searching netted her nothing, but some excitement still gripped 
her, making her feel reluctant to resort to her reading or her dolls 
... and television completely bored her.

In her parents' bedroom she idly stood before the mirror and looked at 
herself. Her long and curly blonde hair hung in straggled ringlets and 
without thinking she reached for her mother's hairbrush and began 
smoothing out the snarls. Before long it had fluffed out prettily and 
she put back the brush, sitting tall on the dressing table stool. Her 
clear blue eyes speculated as she tilted her head to one side, then her 
fingers reached for a lipstick and, filigreed gold top off, applied the 
crimson pencil to her chubby, full lips, imitating her mother's often-
seen gestures, pushing out her lips, drawing them tight against her 
pearly teeth. The result, after a few minutes of concentration, didn't 
seem at all bad to her, and a wisp of tissue soon cleared away the 
slight smudge at one comer of her shining, rosebud lips. She looked at 
the other paraphernalia on the glassed table-top, and decided that to 
attempt to touch up her eyes would be too difficult. A thrilling spirit 
of excitement sparkled those clear blue eyes now, and brought pink 
color to her smooth, fair cheeks. She slipped off her stool and stepped 
quickly to the clothes closet, intent on dressing up in the silent, 
secret house. A bright red satin sheath, a cocktail dress, not often 
worn, caught her attention and she reached up to slip it off its 
hanger, then hurried back to the mirror. She pulled the cord of her 
pajama bottom and then slipped off the buttoned top before impatiently 
tugging the pants down her long, slim, coltish legs where she kicked 
them from her ankles. Her body only just beginning to fill out with 
roundness, her blonde hair hanging full about her bare shoulders so 
that it tickled, small pink lips, bare of hair, shadowed between her 
smooth round thighs, she stood naked in front of the mirror and stepped 
into the dress. The touch of the silk on her bare skin put goosebumps 
of pleasure on her warm flesh as it slid up her slender frame. She 
struggled to put her arms into the straps and awkwardly reached behind 
her for the zipper, tugging the back of the dress around in its 
fullness.

It was way too big for her in all directions, and hung from her lean 
shoulders like a crimson, sheening sack, reaching to just above her 
ankles. Even when she slipped into a pair of Lois' high shoes the thing 
looked silly, and a belt snapped around her waist did nothing to 
improve her looks. Shivers delight ran through her small body when she 
whirled the dress out about her, but she thought to herself that the 
picture of herself in the mirror was quite ridiculous, and was 
disappointed. Presently she let the dress slide to the floor, and 
struggled to hang it back up in the closet, wrestling the stool over to 
stand on it.

Picking up her pjs, she wandered back into her own room, the cool 
winter air hardening her little nipples so that she fingered them on 
her flat chest. She decided to get dressed, and, in a sudden moment of 
daring, took out her party dress, the fluffy blue dress of satin and 
lace, with a stiffened skirt that she was only to wear on special days, 
the next occasion to be the Christmas party. Discarding the box it was 
in, she pulled it down over her golden head and tugged till it was in 
place, its wide, lace-trimmed hem several inches above her dimpled 
knees, for she'd grown some since she'd worn it last. A pair of white 
silk, elastic topped and legged panties snugged quickly up over her 
slim hips, and she pulled on a pair of white, ribbed knee stockings, 
and flat-heeled patent-leather shiny black shoes.

Back to Mom's bedroom to pose and posture in front of the big mirror, 
admiring herself in the dark folds of glossy satin, the blue setting 
off her eyes ... a run to her own room for a matching thick satin 
ribbon for her hair, and a few last hasty brushes at her hair, and 
Maryon was satisfied.

For a while, bouyed up by the guilty pleasure of wearing her forbidden 
clothes, she played a game with herself, pretending she was her mother 
at a party, greeting the guests, and accepting their compliments on how 
pretty she looked in her finery. But after a while this, too, palled, 
and she hunted around for something else to do, something exciting 
forbidden!

On tiptoe, for some reason scared though there was no one in the house, 
nor expected for several hours more, she opened the door to Mike's 
room, which he'd pointedly kept her out of for over a year, now that he 
was fifteen and almost a man. She made a moue of feminine disgust at 
the mess the room was in, with clothes strewn over the floor, books 
littering the two chairs, and a mess of papers and pencils pushed 
carelessly back and to one side on the old table top which now 
contained, in its center, a model plastic airplane, some eighteen 
inches in length and, apparently just completed. Other models, smaller, 
as she could see, hung suspended from threads thumbtacked into the 
ceiling. Pushing the door closed behind her, she walked into the room, 
stepping over the untidy heaps of clothes and around the unmade bed, 
and made her way to the table. She'd seen the other models before, when 
Mike'd triumphantly brought a finished project out to show the falsely 
enthusiastic Burt and the understanding proud Lois, but this plane was 
a super monster, cream and scarlet and black and silver, carefully 
painted and decaled. It was an old-fashioned thing, she saw, with two 
propellers, and idly she turned one of them with a small finger. The 
gleaming toy fascinated her and she picked it up, a bit gingerly, by 
the body.

Soon she was prancing around the room, skipping over the clothes, 
making the plane fly in her hand, her head mentally set in the cockpit, 
which had a sliding transparent casing over it, and seeing through 
half-dosed eyes a swooping, soaring view of the world. So entranced was 
she in this new game that she didn't hear the door open behind her, but 
her brother's voice--"Put that goddamn plane down, Maryon!"--hit ears 
and made her stumble to the floor. The brittle, fragile plane shot out 
from her hands and crashed against a bed leg to break in shatters on 
the carpet.

A rough hand seized her arm painfully and threw her to one side. White 
of face, she saw Mike go down on one knee and tenderly collect the 
pieces. In a fury he crushed them all together and would have thrown 
them in her face, if something he'd seen there had not stopped him. His 
face was flushed with anger and he towered over her, too furious to 
speak, while she cowered, tearful and fearful, not moving from where 
she'd landed. Swallowing, he let the broken fragments fall to the bed, 
and slowly sat down.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked his sister. "Where's Mom? How 
come you're wearing that dress? And ... that's Mom's lipstick you've 
got on, isn't it?"

When the frightened girl didn't answer, he went on: "Oh, you're in for 
big trouble, Sis, aren't you!? Dressing up like that ... wearing that 
lipstick-that means you've been in their bedroom, and you know you're 
not allowed there. And you're in here, when you know you're supposed to 
keep out ... and you've broken my model. It's taken a whole goddamn 
week to build it, too. Oh, you're going to get it, for sure. You are 
really going to get it."

"You made me break it. I didn't mean to ... you made me drop it ... you 
scared me," she got out between silent sobs.

"You shouldn't have been in here in the first place," he said, and sat 
silent, looking grimly at her.

"Mom's gone downtown shopping," she offered, still not moving.

"Hah! I'll tell her fast enough when she gets back, don't you worry 
about that."

Fearful reaction against her previous excited pleasure came down on 
her. "Oh, Mike, please don't tell Mom. I'll mend your plane if you 
like."

Eagerly she scrambled to her feet and made as if to pick up the ruined 
model from the bed. He circled her wrist and dragged her toward him. 
"Oh, just leave it alone, it can't be repaired," he said, tiredly, 
thinking of all the work he'd put into it. And getting his sister 
punished wasn't going to get him a new plane, he realized. She might be 
told to stay in her room for a week, and not allowed out to play, but a 
lot of good that'd do him. He'd get a bit of revenge in seeing her 
spanked, though, he thought. Looking at her, scared, submissive, almost 
shivering, her crimsoned lips quivering, clear blue eyes hazed by 
tears, a sudden idea came to him. Silly brat was only doing what he'd 
done often enough, exploring in the empty house And it was his quiet 
and unexpected entry that'd caused her to trip and so break the plane.

His pretty little sister, and soft and blonde and rosy. And she looked 
almost sexy dressed like that, in her fine blue satin with the lace at 
throat and cuff and hem, and her stockinged legs. Kind of cute. And she 
was afraid of him, and would do anything to avoid punishment by Dad. 
Well, then, why wouldn't he punish her, make her remember not to mess 
about with his things any more?

Her chubby little face, framed by the golden ringlets, oddly accented 
by the crimsoned lips, seemed especially vulnerable, her blue eyes, 
tear-washed, more than ever eager to seek his favor. Mike swallowed, 
and relaxed a bit on the bed, sitting back more, spreading his knees. 
He pulled her, gently but firmly, to stand between his ankles, still 
holding her wrist.

"Well, now," he began, "you did do all those, uh, wrong things now, 
didn't you?"

His sister nodded her head briskly, the golden curls softly trembling 
to the movement.

"And you know at the very least you'll get spanked, hard ... till your 
ass gets red, right?"

Again she nodded, biting her lower lip at the thought of the pain.

"And you can bet you'll be made to stay in your room ... maybe they 
won't speak to you, or let you be spoken to, huh? Well, then, Sis, 
suppose instead of me telling them, huh ..."

This time she interrupted him, her eyes excited, almost jumping up and 
down with sudden relief, her free hand gripping his arm.

"Oh, please, Mike, don't tell them. I'll do anything ..."

He interrupted her in turn. "Well, maybe, but you don't get out of 
being punished, okay?"

"Okay, Mike," she said, a little wary, a little reluctant, "but what 
...?"

"I'll spank you myself, first," he said with a grin. "Not too hard, and 
then I'll think of something. Okay?"

"Oh--aw, Mike! D'you have to spank me?"

He made himself look severe. "Yes. Oh, don't worry, Sis, I won't hurt 
you ... won't make you cry. Just make you smart a bit's all. So, now," 
he added, releasing her, "just lay down across my knees and get ready."

Mutinously, though she realized she was getting the best of a bad 
choice, Maryon came around to His side as he eased himself forward, and 
prepared to bend over his hard boy's knees in their black Levi's. He 
looked down at her, seeing the way her stiff satin dress rode up into 
the air like a sail. "Uh, say, Sis," he said, low-voiced and hesitant, 
"we don't want you to get your party dress all bent out of shape, huh? 
I think you'd better take it off."

Something in his tone caught Maryon's ear. Though she was thankful for 
the slight reprieve, her mind was busy on the rather strained quality 
of his voice. It wasn't ... straight, somehow, she thought as, 
dutifully, protracting the moment, she stood up and carefully pulled 
the dress up over her head. It sounded like ... like she thought her 
voice sounded when she was telling a small lie, or covering up for some 
mistake she'd made. Strange. She didn't feel ashamed at baring herself 
like this before him. In fact, for some reason, it was nice. Mom had 
hinted things to her, and she'd heard scraps of tittered conversation 
among her classmates about boys and girls, but she didn't really know 
what it was all about. And anyway, Mike wasn't a strange, dirty little 
boy, he was her brother!

Beginning to feel an excitement of his own, Mike watched as her cream-
skinned, lightly curved body revealed itself beneath the slowly upward 
drawn blue fabric, watching as her dainty little pink nipples, aroused 
by the rough pull of the dress over them, became visible, hardened. 
Stretched tall by her efforts, her slender little body arched leanly. 
Goddamn, I've got a pretty cute sister, he thought, eyeing the taut, 
translucent white silk panties through which her rosy, chubby cheeks of 
butt glowed faintly. He'd fumbled with a couple of girls before, but 
always in the dark, always in quick, guilty haste, and though he knew 
his sister was far too young to have all of the attractive signs and 
attributes of sex, perhaps he could learn some of the puzzling 
realities of the cold abstracts hinted at in the diagrams of sexual 
anatomy he'd furtively pored over in medical books in the library.

Stripped down to her thin panties, which now she unconsciously pulled 
tighter up around her waist, thereby outlining the soft fork of her 
thighs, and to her white knee stockings and shiny black shoes, Maryon 
stepped toward him again and, half-kneeling, laid herself across his 
slightly trembling knees, hardening the balls of her bottom in 
anticipated reaction to his slaps, and not noticing his quivering in 
her own nakedness. "Not too hard, Mike, please."

He rested one hand on her bare shoulder, beneath the fine golden hair, 
and let the other caress the rounded fruits of her ass, his heart 
pounding as the slither of silk beneath his palm sent messages to his 
brain, finding a queer delight in both the touch and in the thought 
that he was tormenting her by his waiting. "Just to make you remember 
it better, this'll be a bare-butt spanking." Before she could protest 
at the indignity, his hand had slid beneath the elastic at her waist 
and his splayed fingers took the panties off in one smooth movement, to 
rest rumpled about her thighs.

Maryon felt vulnerable, and as cool air hit her newly bared flesh she 
knew herself to be goose-pimpling, and for some reason she couldn't put 
into words, she felt a flash of anger at his further abasement, making 
her an object of fun, she thought, betrayed by her own body. But Mike's 
still fondling hand warmed her quickly and the spear of thought sank 
deep into her mind and vanished there ...

Mike, delaying no longer, eager to get on to something else, smacked 
her six times with cupped hands, three blows to each cheek, producing 
more noise than pain, bringing forth only a tiny spot of color to the 
center of each firm sphere, knowing he hadn't hurt her. Maryon, he soon 
realized, had also figured that he'd pulled back his strength and let 
her off easily, for while his hand still cupped her, she wriggled 
herself around, sat up, and threw her arms around his neck to plant a 
juicy kiss on his cheek. Then, still holding on, she leaned back, 
regarded him, then unaccountably burst into giggles.

"Oh, thank you, Mike," she said in her outburst of mirth. "You do look 
funny." She buried her face against his chest.

"Why, what's wrong?" he asked, guiltily, wondering if his face was 
giving away his intentions. He noticed his hand still nested between 
her careless thighs where she'd twisted beneath him.

"You've got lipstick on your face," she giggled. Heedless of everything 
else, she wet a finger on her dainty little tongue and rubbed his cheek 
until she was satisfied she'd removed all traces from him, then sat 
back on his knee, her hands now going to her panties where they made a 
soft white ruffled band against the pale pink of her fair skin. Mike 
put his free hand about her shoulders, leaned forward and kissed her 
face, at the same time keeping his hand firm on the circle of silk at 
her thighs.

"I let you off a bit, Sis, because I like you, you know?" He swallowed, 
started to speak, flushed slightly, then blurted out. "But that's only 
the first part of your punishment."

She regarded him for a moment, head to one side, golden ringlets 
dangling. "What else, Mike," she said, putting her chubby fists on her 
slender hips.

"Well ... well, I want to look at you, like," he said, not sure how 
just to put it. "Just ... just lie back there, like you were just now, 
only the other way around."

Misunderstanding him, Maryon began to get up, meaning to rest face down 
across his thighs from the other side, an innocent smile on her crimson 
lips, but gently he pushed her back, spreading his knees apart a bit 
more to make her more comfortable, so that her shoulders were flat on 
one thigh and her own slim thighs across his black-clad one. Making a 
game of it, she flapped her arms above her head and let her neck bend 
back till her blonde curls touched the carpet. He quickly slid a hand 
beneath her ass to support her, and pulled at her silk panties till he 
clumsily slid them off altogether, pulling each knee up toward him in 
turn. With her shoes on the carpet and the stockings covering her to 
her knees, she presented her arched body to his inspection, her fragile 
hipbones pushing up through the whitened skin.

Maryon had been caught unawares by her brother's request. She didn't 
quite know what to make of it but acted quickly in a sudden flush of 
affection and trust. He was her adored big brother and ... well, it was 
kind of exciting, somehow, to be spread out like this. She wondered 
what he was thinking. Her head became heavy with blood in her upside-
down position and, grasping his thigh, she pulled herself up so that 
she could see down the length of her body, between the hard little 
cones of her coral nipples, set into the soft spare skin of her saucers 
of breasts, now flattened out altogether by the stretch of her body, to 
where a soft hump appeared above the flat horizon of her belly. She 
wriggled a bit to get more comfortable, and parted her legs further to 
let them give her more support.

Her brother's face looked strangely flushed, and his eyes excited. Not 
feeling quite ... right, quite nice, all of a sudden, Maryon closed her 
eyes and turned her face to where she could rest it on the arm that Jay 
on his thigh, snugging her head against her shoulder.

Mike slowly let his hands and eyes roam over the treasure of his young 
sister's body, brushing the little nipples with his fingers, tweaking 
gently at them, pressing them, wondering as he did so why his own 
hardened under his T-shirt. He let one finger of his other hand circle 
around her belly-button until she giggled and wriggled deliciously, 
murmuring that he was tickling her. He changed his circumscribing 
finger into a brush and let it rejoin its fellows, smoothing down and 
across her belly, slowly approaching that mysterious, bare mound that 
thrust up at the crack of her thighs. Not quite bare, though, he 
discovered as he bent over her, for there was a nearly invisible dust 
of golden down there, a small triangle of fire, tiny tight curb whose 
apex pointed down to the naked slot whose edges were pinker than the 
rest of her. He'd lost track of the proper names of things as spelled 
out in the books he'd seen ... vulva, pubis, labia, vagina--didn't know 
which was which as exampled by the fair flesh offered him here, but he 
couldn't possibly forget the usual names, heard without meaning years 
ago from older boys. He slid one finger in between her hot thighs until 
it rested lightly over the slit, covering it.

"Say, Sis, what d'you call this?" He tapped it gently for emphasis, and 
his voice was low.

Maryon felt color flood her face and arms. Kept her eyes firmly closed, 
for the first time knowing an exhilarating sense of shame. "That's ... 
that's my hole, Mike," she said, whispering.

"No," he muttered, a bit contemptuously. "That's your cunt. Don't you 
know that!?"

Again a flush rolled through her, warmer this time, at the sound of the 
forbidden word ... for it was not unknown to her. Only she knew it to 
be ... "That's a dirty word, Mike."

"No it's not, everybody uses it. It's a grown-up word, see. Only grown-
ups are allowed to say it. But I'll let you say it to me. As long as 
you promise never to tell anyone else, hey? So say it, let me hear you 
say a grown-up word."

"Cunt," she said, softly, not really believing him, but letting the 
word excite her. "Cunt, cunt! cunt!"

"Yeah, that's right," he said, shockingly thrilled at the sound of her 
girl's voice lisping the word. "Now, I'll teach you some more, if you 
don't already know them. What do you call this?" he asked, fondling.

"That's my bottom, Mike."

"Nah, that's kids' talk. That's your ass, your butt, your rear-end. 
They call each one of 'em the cheek of your ass, see. And these?" 
flicking her nipples and pinching up the soft, silky skin of her 
breasts.

"I-I don't know, Mike. That's my chest, isn't it!"

"Hah! little kids have chests. These are your tits, and these are your 
boobs. Can you remember 'em? Let me hear you say em."

Maryon had heard the words before, but never used them. Or thought of 
them, consciously. But like all secret, taboo words of the tribes of 
man, they were burned indelibly on her hidden memory.

"Cunt, ass, tit, boob," she murmured; then, more boldly: "Cunt! Ass! 
Tit! Boob! Cunt-ass-tit-boob! Cuntasstitboob! Cuntass! Titboob!" She 
giggled. "They're funny words, aren't they, Mike? When I say 'em like 
that?"

"That's good, Sis." He bent to kiss her on her left breast, sucking at 
her nipple as he drew back, sending a sudden delightful tingle from 
between her legs to her toes, and up to her ... tits! Defiantly she 
said the word to herself. Mike placed the hollowed palm of his hand on 
her belly, low down, and began to rub it. She arched like a kitten 
being stroked but, to her sudden disappointment, after a few brushes he 
left off, and moved a pair of long, warm fingers down to the hot spot 
between her legs. Feeling good, she relaxed her thighs, tightened 
momentarily against the alien intrusion, but jerked as he pressed down 
against the small, firm mound where she'd recently discovered fresh 
hair to be growing. "Ooh!" she said between her teeth. "That feels 
funny, Mike. Like-like ..." she blushed again "... like I have to go to 
the bathroom."

"You mean, like you have to take a leak," he sniggered. "I know what 
you mean, but it's different from that, really. Don't worry, Sis, it'll 
be all right, I promise."

Fleetingly the little girl wondered how he could know what it felt 
like. She did know that boys and girls weren't built quite the same, 
though she didn't know exactly in what way. Maybe Mike'll show me, if I 
ask him nicely! she excitedly thought, and determined to put the 
suggestion to him when be seemed to be in a good mood. Meanwhile, she 
was kinda enjoying this 'punishment' of his.

And meanwhile, Mike was hot and cold at the 'punishment' he was 
inflicting. If only Maryon'd hold her tongue, and not go blabbing! But 
then, if she did, she'd not know that her own petty 'crimes' of the day 
wouldn't be doubly punished. And ... she didn't seem to mind what he 
did with her!

He let his knuckles stroke the firm lean flesh of her thighs and 
gradually ran his thumb down into the moist, hot area he ached to 
explore. Leaning his body over her, he peered down as his probing digit 
eased its way into the lips of her bald, silk-edged cunt. Moving his 
knee back a bit till it pressed against the hard cheeks of her ass, he 
brought his other hand sliding down her suddenly trembling body to join 
the first, and let both thumbs gently prise her flower-like slit apart. 
It was something like splitting a peach, he thought. Even the down on 
her skin there was the same. And she was just as juicy inside, he 
discovered ... a little sticky, and with a few kinda little knobs 
almost like seeds on the soft, red flat part at the top. He ran his 
fingernail up and down these hard pimples and was surprised when the 
lips he was holding seemed to thicken and grow to his touch, and he 
beard her gasp.

"Are you all right, Sis?" he asked, alarmed. He felt a shudder and was 
going to take his hand away when one of her own stretched down to cover 
it and hold it in place. "Yes ... it's just ... a funny feeling, that's 
all, when you do that. Don't ... don't stop."

She spoke through closed teeth and open lips, and her eyes remained 
closed. Her cheeks were rosy. Curious, he played with her again in the 
same way, and also slipped one questing finger into her wet hole, 
surprised to find it easily sliding into a hot, strange, soft cavern 
where seconds before there'd been only a tight little hole. Against his 
knuckles he felt her slender thighs move restlessly.

For her part little Maryon was equally as surprised by what was 
happening to and in her. She felt she wanted to ... To twinkle was the 
way &he put it to herself. Down there, where Mike was touching and 
squeezing and pressing her, it was all hot and loose and open and 
tingling, like ... like when I swallowed a spoonful of hot chili too 
quickly, and it caught up with her down at the back of her throat and 
behind her chest. At the same time she felt herself to be floating, as 
though she was going to faint or something. She shivered, cold, but 
then burnt with a warm flush that ran all the way through her. Then 
cold, then hot, in flashes. She licked her lips and took a deep, 
shuddering breath, letting herself go.

Mike observed the waves of rosy color that swept across the taut 
surface of his sister's skin, and decided he'd better hold back a bit. 
Leaving his finger in her, letting it curl and straighten despite his 
better intentions, he gazed again at the sight of the slender, fair-
skinned, rosy-hued, flushed-cheeked, golden-haired, white-stockinged 
slither of naked flesh that was his sister, Without really knowing why, 
he slid one arm beneath her shoulders and, raising her so that her head 
dangled blindly back, kissed her slight breasts and ran His warm cheek 
down the skin of her belly. He held her to him for a time, his finger 
still pulsating in her, and her breath matching the rhythm of his 
strokes, then it hit him that he might take her virginity in this way, 
if he wasn't careful!

He still wasn't sure of the mechanisms of girls' cunts, but he'd read 
enough to know that if he took her cherry like this she'd bleed, and 
get hurt, and probably tell the Old Man and Mom, and ...

In sudden, shocking panic he withdrew his finger and let his hand rest 
hot against her hotter, heaving little slot. Her head jerked up and her 
wide blue eyes stared at him in a kind of outrage. "Why did you stop, 
Mike? That was ... nice."

"Uh, well, uh, see ..." he broke off. Then, kissing her flushed cheek, 
he whispered in her ear: "III tell you later, Sis, but for now, just 
believe me, huh? And relax. Here, how'd you like this?"

Still pressing her against him, he jiggled her until she half sat on 
his knee, coltish young legs sprawled wide apart, and rubbed her lower 
belly, letting the ball of his thumb press down on the mount at the 
very tip top of her slit each time it passed that way. "Mmmmhhh, nice, 
Mike," she murmured against the chest that encased his rapidly pounding 
heart, and lifted her face to kiss him again, before she remembered, 
and made a loving pout at him, snuggling her golden head on his 
shoulder like a contented cat.

She felt that something more should happen to her but, not knowing that 
she was too young to have any kind of a climax, let herself be 
titillated to no purpose, allowing him to gradually slow down his so-
restful and exciting and pleasurable fondling; as his wrist became 
weary, regretting only the slight ache just inside and at the back of 
her ... cunt! and relishing the prickling of her golden down.

"There, Sis, was that good?" he asked presently, halting, all tones of 
punishment gone from his voice.

"Mmmm, that was so nice," she whispered, holding him close, all 
pretense of being punished lost from her mind.

He bent his head closer to her, blowing in her ear, whispering likewise 
because of the intimacy of the moment, not from any fear. "Hey, Sis, 
you know how good that feels ... why don't you do the same for me?" he 
asked.

"All right, Mike, anything for you." She tried to keep the sudden joy 
and hope from her voice. Now maybe she could get a look at him, without 
asking!

"Okay, give me a kiss first though, eh, Sis!?" When she eagerly surged 
up against him, though, he laughed and reminded her of the lipstick, 
which she'd better get off anyway, before Mom or the Old Man came home. 
He pointed her toward a box of Kleenex and watched with mounting 
excitement as her smooth round globes, small and tight as grapefruit 
and rosy from their pressure against his knee, bobbled away above her 
white stockings.

While she licked her lips and rubbed impatiently at them with tissues--
he remembering to dispose of their guilty clues before the day was 
over--Mike leaned back on one elbow and unfastened the waistband of his 
black Levi's, partly unzipping his fly. He'd long since given up 
wearing underpants, for the sake of believed masculinity, though Lois 
would have tried to shame him into wearing them if she'd known about 
his breach and so, when he pulled up his T-shirt, his black-haired, 
exercise-hard flat stomach was bare to Maryon's eyes as, lips now red 
with increased circulation rather than cosmetics, she came back, shy 
and awkward as a month-old filly, to her brother.

Mike's prick had gotten hard ... hard as a hammer handle ... when he'd 
been playing with his naked sister, but he'd subsided from that so that 
his male member lay flaccid and placid along his thigh beneath his 
tight pants. He hadn't yet recovered his calm and coolness, and was 
wary, unsure, of going too far. At this time. For now, he intended to 
keep himself covered and secure.

Maryon was hopefully intent on exploring him, and came over to him as 
he sat up on the side of the bed, as before, with a charming mixture of 
boldness and blushes mantling her face and brightening her blue eyes. 
He patted his knee and she sat herself astride his thigh, tingling 
again as he, in pulling her closer, unthinkingly brushed the material 
of his pants in thrilling friction against the lower lips of her cunt. 
Now she could think/say the word without hesitation, though she was 
determined in her own mind never to use it except privately to Mike.

The straining fifteen-year-old held the slight nude figure of his 
sister against him and lowered his head to kiss her firmly on the lips, 
full, red, and soft against his, feeling her whole body press warmly up 
against him. Running his hands up and down the valley of her spine, he 
let himself fall slowly back, so that she lay on top of him with his 
strong thigh firmly clutched between her own two slender, creamy, 
girlish lengths, lips still locked to lips, her hair tumbling gUy down 
about his cheeks and ears. Gently he rolled her off and pushed her up, 
resting his head on his pillow, his buttocks jacked up on the heap 
caused by the roll of the unmade bedclothes. He took her hand, winked 
at her questioning wide blue eyes, and laid her palm down on his warm 
belly.

Her fingers were cold, perhaps from nervous excitement, but they soon 
warmed as she began to rub them over his skin as he'd done for her. She 
concentrated on the job, looking back once at him to seek confirmation 
she was satisfying him, and he nodded, and embraced her trim little 
body, slowly caressing her firm ass, his mind lazily filled with 
thoughts of harem girls who'd perform for him without needing more than 
a casual touch from himself. He felt his erection growing and shifted 
his leg the better to accommodate it.

Maryon bent to her task with enthusiasm, slyly creeping her busy little 
fingers downward to poke their tips into the curly black hair of her 
brother and beneath the tight edge of his crotch, hoping to get a look 
at his mystery. Just below her eyes she could see a larger lump of 
flesh she'd not noticed on him before, packed solid beneath the thin 
stuff of his black pants. She knew it to be flesh, now, though at first 
she'd thought it to be something in his pocket until, touching it, it 
quivered like something alive. Behind her she felt the loving touch of 
his hands on her ass! and twitched it to encourage him, not being 
disappointed as presently she felt his finger play down between its 
halves, pass lightly over her hole there, and slide into the lips of 
her front hole ... her cunt. Greatly daring, she pushed her hands down 
under the top of his pants and for the first time felt the hard rod of 
flesh whose roots grew there.

Mike took hold of his sister's left leg and, bending it at the knee, 
lifted it across his body so that she straddled him, the position 
pulling open the naked, pink lips of her little cunt. This close, and 
with his thumbs parting her, he could see clearly now the hard nodes 
he'd felt before at the top of the slit. That must be her clitoris, he 
figured, and noticed her twitches each time he brushed his fingernail 
across there, and the way she hitched her butt up in the air. There was 
no sound anywhere to be heard, except that there was an odd kind of 
ringing in his ears, and the pulsations of his heart. Maryon's fingers 
were beginning to loop around the thick root of his sex and he decided 
what-the-hell and, letting her cunt alone for a moment, slid his hands 
beneath him, raised his own butt, and eased his pants down a couple of 
inches. His sister seemed to pick up on this unspoken offering and with 
both hands, she reached into his crotch and along his leg and tugged 
His rigid dick free. As soon as it was clear, she stopped. He began to 
run his hand up and down her back, bringing the other to stroke her 
bent left thigh. "What's the matter, Sis?"

"You ... You're ... its so big!" she said. "Your thing, Mike. I don't 
have ... why don't I have ...?" Her voice trailed off, and he felt her 
golden, silky hair touch him as she leaned closer.

"That's ... that's my dolly, Sis:' he grinned. "You get to play with 
your little dollies ... men have their own, see. Now ... what d'you 
call it?"

"This?" she said, squeezing it with both hands. "Your, your thing?"

"Another coupla words for you," he said. "It's called a prick ... or a 
cock."

"A cock!?" she exclaimed. "But a cock's a ... a daddy chicken, isn't 
it?"

"Yeah ... but it's also the grown-up name for that."

"Do you mind if I play with your ... your dolly, your cock?"

"Go ahead, Sis, but don't be too rough, and stop when I tell you." He 
lay back and continued to fondle her, trying to stare up into the 
little pink slit so freely and innocently presented to him.

Maryon was delighted. She knew this was all wrong, somehow, but at the 
same time she felt she was being let into many grown-up secrets ... an 
honor vouchsafed by her good big brother; and she was grateful. She was 
sure, certain sure, that Mom and Dad wouldn't approve ... this would 
get both Mike and herself into trouble. But it was better than being 
punished. And it was fun, playing with this curious length of red and 
white flesh, with its strange ways. She felt how it throbbed against 
her palms, and ... wow! look at that funny skin at its end pull back! 
Nothing like that happened to her. Mike was such a good brother. Full 
of warm and happy feelings, she pressed the hot, funny-looking thing 
against her cheek, her soft, curly hair coiling down around it, mixing 
with his black, shiny, tight curls.

"What's this do, Mike?" she asked, cupping four slim fingers under the 
loose bags of skin nested between his thighs.

"Balls," he said, his voice muffled as he pressed his head up between 
her own rounded thighs.

"Oh, I see why now," she said, discovering that within the bags of skin 
were a pair of hard round things ... like peach-pits.

"Careful, Sis," he muttered, as she squeezed them and, in a kind of 
admonition, blew onto the upraised ridges of flesh and into her slot.

"Oooooohhhhhh, that tickles. But it's nice," she said, wriggling her 
whole body. "How about you?" And bending her head she peeled back his 
foreskin and breathed warm sweet air about his quivering tip.

"Mmmmmmhhhhhmmmmhhhh!" he hummed by way of reply, feeling ready to 
spurt.

Maryon could see a drop of milky liquid in the end of the hole in his 
... cock, and It didn't look like ... like bathroom water either--but 
maybe boys were different from girls in that way, too. Concerned, tidy, 
she rubbed her chubby palm across the red-lined tip to clean it up.

"Owowowowowhhhh gggrrrhhh," said her brother immediately and, lifting 
her with both hands, roiled her off him and turned onto his side, his 
back toward her, his knees up against his chest.

"What's the matter, Mike, did I hurt you? I'm sorry," she began. But he 
shook his head. "It's okay, Sis, just leave me alone for a while, huh?"

On hands and knees she continued to look at him, wondering, until he 
spoke again.

"It's okay, Sis," he said. "Look, uh ... I'll tell you what. You'd like 
to play some more, eh?"

She nodded then, realizing he couldn't see her, said: "Oh, sure, Mike. 
Now?"

"No-non-no-non-no," he said, in a quiet voice. "But, tell you what, you 
run along now, and take your clothes with you, and put 'em away, and 
get everything cleaned up, eh? So that Mom and Dad don't know you've 
been fuc ... messing about today. And, tonight, if you can keep awake, 
you come along ... quietly, mind you, to my room here, and I'll let you 
play some more. If you're a good girl, that is, and don't mess about 
any more. Would you like that?"

"Oh, yes, Mike," she said, catching at his arm. "But ..."

"Look, you've got a clock in your room, don't you? Well, wait until one 
o'clock, huh, and then come here. But be quiet! They'll be drinking, 
tonight being Saturday, and they'll sleep sound, you know? So, okay?"

"Yes, Mike. And thank you for letting me play." She delivered a swift, 
shy, juicy kiss on his exposed cheek, slid off the bed, picked up her 
dress and panties, and ran naked back to her room next door.

Mike, using an old sock, finished what she'd started, then lay back on 
the bed, panting, exhausted.

The Swelt children had long since been allowed the privilege of locking 
their doors for privacy, the right extended to them in a weak moment 
after Michael, one fine Sunday morning, at the age of six, having 
walked into his parents' room when Burt had been humping his wife under 
the bedsheets, had been thereafter locked out. Lois had long since 
given up the practice of looking in on her offspring before retiring 
and, as long as everything within was quiet, and the lights out, 
neither parent ever bothered to check.

This night Maryon, keyed up with excitement all day, found it easy to 
stay awake until the prescribed time, reading by flashlight under the 
covers, listening to the sounds of her parents moving about, of Mike 
going to his room--there was no click of his lock! --and, much later, 
of Lois and Burt going about the house locking up, putting out the 
lights, visiting the bathroom and, finally, going off to their own room 
at the far end of the corridor around the L of the house, beyond the 
guest room and bathrooms.

Finally the place was silent, creepy-quiet, for she'd never before 
stayed awake this length of time. She read on and on, every few minutes 
checking the clock which shone white in the bright moonlight. At last! 
One o'clock! She put out her flashlight, slid out of bed onto the cold 
floor, considered her slippers and decided against them, glided to the 
door, feeling a sudden chill through the thin pink flannel of her 
ankle-length nightgown, cautiously opened the door, closed it quietly 
behind her, and trotted noiselessly down the passage to her brother's 
door in the dark. She didn't knock, knowing it to be unlocked, and 
pushed it open. There was no sound from within, so she as quietly 
closed it behind her and tiptoed over to the bed, being careful not to 
stumble over the untidy heaps on the floor, seen clearly by the shafts 
of light streaming through the uncurtained windows from the full moon. 
Shivering with cold, she climbed up onto the bed and bent her lips 
close to Mike's ear.

"Mike! Oh, Mike. It's me!" she whispered. Impatiently she put her hand 
on his neck to shake him, and he came awake with a jerk.

"Whaaaaaaa ...?" Her fingers were cold and the shock of them on his 
skin startled him, but he quickly remembered the assignation and took 
in the situation. He'd three-quarters thought she'd go to sleep, and 
wasn't too concerned whether she came to him or not ... he had several 
ambivalent views about the whole thing. But here she was, his luscious 
little sister Maryon, eager and willing, it seemed. He put his arms 
about her and gave her a kiss on her nose, for being so good, and felt 
her trembling with cold ... and what else?

"Hey, you'd better slide in here," he said, pulling down the sheets and 
blankets for her.

"Brrrhhh!" she murmured softly, pulling up her knees and driving her 
trim little body down beside him, her pink nightgown riding up about 
her legs. "Why, you've got no clothes on!" she added, discovering this.

"Aw, pjs are sissy," he scoffed, pulling her against him, sliding an 
arm about her shoulders so that she was flat to his body, as yet 
unaroused.

"D'you ... think this is sissy, Mike?" she anxiously asked, shrugging 
inside the pink flannel.

"Well, you're a girl," he said. "But, heck, why wear clothes to bed? 
You want to go to the bathroom, you put on a robe."

"All right," she said, feeling warm and cozy here in this soft nest. 
"I'll take this off. I'm not a sissy, either!"

Propping himself up on one elbow, he watched, amused by her little-girl 
determination, as she struggled with the garment. She sat up and 
reached down to the hem and began to pull it up over her long, slim 
thighs, but had trouble getting it under her butt. She wriggled for a 
few moments, her face defiant and angry with herself, and then he 
laughed.

"Hold it, Sis," he whispered. "I'll give you a hand."

Making a kind of cave of the bedclothes over his back, he knelt over 
her, straddling, tugging down her ankles and tipping her on to her 
back. Putting his hands behind her knees, he slid them slowly up the 
backs of her silky thighs, riding the thin stuff of the gown up with 
his wrists. His fingers reached the soft but clearly-defined 
indentations at the top of her legs and then he was cupping the hard, 
firm balls of her young ass, lifting her, watching as, at the front, 
the fine down above her pubic mound came into view, cresting her 
slender white legs. He moved his hands slightly around so that he could 
splay his long thumbs up over the fragile-looking bones of her hips, 
taut against the fair skin of her smoothly-curved belly, then continued 
to push upward, Maryon easing her body up to aid him, her wide blue 
eyes shining, her full lips moist.

She let him move her like a limp rag doll, thrilling, she knew not 
quite why, to his touch, to the silence, to the strange white 
moonlight, to the look on his intent face, to the sound of his hoarse 
breathing, to something dangerously exciting within her own self.

As the slowly upward-moving hem pulled over her stiff little pink 
nipples, she saw him lick his lips and then, dear brother, he bent his 
head and licked the twin hard towers so that once again she felt a 
weird, shocking current shoot along the wires of herself, to her ... 
cunt, to her toes, to the corners of her eyes. Across the bundle of 
nightgown beneath her chin she couldn't see his lower body, hidden as 
it was in the cave of bedclothes, but suddenly she felt his loose bag 
of hot flesh ... his balls! ... brush against her thigh, and another 
delightful shiver went through her. She curled her toes and closed her 
eyes, flushing as his soft flesh crept up her belly as he, leaning 
forward, raised her shoulders, straightened her arms above her head 
across the pillow, and pulled the pink nightgown up and over her head.

For a brief moment Mike left her like that, her head and arms shrouded 
in the flannel, her vulnerable child's body naked to his stare from 
throat to foot. His penis was but quarter erected, still soft, and he 
deliberately let his swaying member touch down and dip till it nestled 
in her cute little belly-button. He watched a shudder run through her 
and bent to take one tiny hard nipple between his teeth, tugging gently 
on it. Again she twitched, and he heard her gasp. Slowly he grasped the 
hem of her gown and carefully pulled it up over her face until it was 
exposed, hooded by the cloth, her hair still within its folds, her arms 
trapped above her in the soft pink bonds. Her eyes were open again, 
shining, her moist lips open in delicious wonder, and he bent to kiss 
her, for the first time thrusting his tongue between her pearly white 
teeth and letting it explore her small hot wet cavern. For a second she 
choked, and then he felt her own curious child's tongue, small, 
pointed, and flexible as a finger, driving around and into his own. 
Favoring his left leg, he began to run one warm hand up and down the 
length of her body, from slit to slender neck and back. And again, and 
again, each time brushing one or the other of her nipples, still 
holding his lips against hers, letting his tongue swell and withdraw, 
teasing her.

Unable to move her arms, but wishing to show her beloved brother the 
appreciation she felt he deserved for his new, tingling pleasure, 
Maryon thrust her hard body up at him, writhing a bit to rub her bare 
skin against his hairy thighs, unconsciously responding to the urge of 
sex, though she was as yet too young to understand or fulfill these 
instinctive movements. She only knew that his tongue in her mouth was 
sweeter than candy, more delightful than ice cream, more sensational 
than sparkling, prickling Coke ... and nothing like any kiss she'd 
given or received before in her whole entire life! But intuition told 
her never to try this with Mom, or Dad, or anyone else she knew. Only 
with Mike! Daringly, gingerly, she closed her dainty little teeth on 
his tongue and, having trapped it, ran her own pointed prober around it 
as if it was a hot popsicle she'd gotten between her plump lips.

Mike was amazed and a little scared by his sister's enthusiastic 
response, and slowed down a bit. Already he was horny, though no more 
than piss-proud down there. With a last smacking suck, and a light peck 
on her blushing cheek, he concentrated on getting the nightgown clear 
of her. Devilishly she kept her arms stiff above her so that he was 
forced to extend himself up and over her, and he gasped as his swinging 
balls hit her chin, and he felt her lips pucker as they brushed against 
them. Struggling with her recalcitrant wrists, his eyes widened as his 
amazing little sister kissed his dangling flesh and let her impudent 
tongue lick along the cord that defined his two nuts.

Maryon was fascinated by the strange objects pressing against her face, 
and couldn't wait to have her hands free to explore there some more. 
Surely it'd been bigger than this earlier!? And harder!? Once he'd 
finally stripped the scrap of pink from her, she raised her head to 
shake out her mussed up curls, and so mashed her pretty flushed face 
against him. Again that odd flashing glow sparked through her, and she 
put her hand to it.

Not sure whether he altogether liked this sudden spurt of activity and 
inquisitiveness on her part, Mike sat back on one heel, then drew 
himself down against her, pulling the warm mass of bedclothes down over 
his chilling body. His sister, happy as a kitten, snuggled up against 
him and once more reached down for his cock. A sudden thought came to 
him. "Did you lock the door?" he urgently whispered in her ear. She 
shook her head. "Then you'd better hop out and do it, just in case," he 
said, pulling the sheet down from her to expose her once again. She 
shivered, made a mutinous moue then, sighing, slung her long slender 
legs over the side of the bed, and, on tiptoe still, made her way to 
the door and slowly, quietly as she could, thumbed down the lock.

Mike watched her as she went, sitting up in the bed with the clothes 
about his knees. As she turned toward him once more, smiling at him, 
with her body hunched and her hands on her opposite shoulders for 
warmth, he put his finger to his lips, then beckoned to her, then 
motioned with his finger until she was positioned, still hugging 
herself, in the center of the room, full in the bright rays of 
moonlight. Acting out for her with His own body what he wished her to 
do, he had her reluctantly move her hands until they were raised high 
above her golden head, high as she could thrust them, standing on 
tiptoe with her legs somewhat apart. Slowly she turned, with her 
gleaming hair falling down about her slim young shoulders, offering to 
His greedy eyes the whole, total view of her nude, slender, virginal 
body, with its flat breasts and hard cores of nipples which sent a pair 
of sharp black shadows down onto her silky skin, and the plump mound at 
the joint of her thighs, bare and brazen, and the firm creamy globes of 
her young girl's ass, with its black crevice between.

As she turned for the third time to face him, her eyes pleaded with him 
and, grinning, he nodded. What a slave she'd make! this eager, golden-
haired sister of his, ten, tender and untouched.

She trotted rapidly to the bed and threw herself in with him with a 
slight protest of springs. "Careful, Sis!" he whispered in warning. He 
kissed her cool forehead, put his arms around her, and pulled up the 
bedclothes, holding her hard against him, silent, unmoving, until she 
was over her goose bumps and shivers and was warm again. Presently, she 
was content to let him do anything. He reached down and put his 
hardening cock between her thighs so that it stuck out behind them. At 
the feel of this hot bar of flesh between the satiny surface of her 
legs and up against her ... Ass! Maryon let out a gasp and trembled 
with guilty pleasure, though why she felt shy and brave and ashamed and 
afraid and daring all at the same time, she couldn't have said. Placing 
warm, moist lips on his shoulder, she let her left hand run down her 
body, then behind it, until she could, by stretching a bit, just take 
his tip between three fingers and a thumb, squeezing and pressing, 
breathtakingly excited as she felt his thing growing larger beneath her 
cunt, and between her slim thighs. Using her thumb, she peeled his skin 
back ("What's that, Mike?" "Foreskin, Sis!" "Oh.") and since he was a 
bit longer there now, managed to get her tiny pinky to press its nail 
into the hole there. She could hear Mike breathing deeply, shakily, and 
could feel his heart pounding against her. It was getting stiffer, 
harder, longer ... if only she could touch it freely.

Mike's own free hand was slowly smoothing the flesh of her side and 
back, a delicious feeling, so soothing ... when suddenly he stopped.

"Wha ...?"

"Ssshhh ...!" he said. "Listen!"

There was a noise outside somewhere, in the house. Scared, all her 
'grown-up'-aping confidence lost, Maryon made no resistance as, freeing 
himself from her, Mike roughly thrust her down along him and pulled the 
covers up to his chin.

"Don't move!" he ordered, sticking his head under the sheet.

She hugged herself against him, her head on his belly, her knees bent 
with one leg over his, arms clutched to her breast.

"It's Mom or Dad, going to the bathroom," he hissed again.

Suddenly afraid, knowing his manhood to be wilted, aware of the awful 
consequences, especially to him, if they should be discovered like 
this, Mike felt his heart hammering and his lips drying.

He listened keenly, straining to hear if footsteps would come down to 
this leg of the 'L', if the doorhandles of his and Maryon's rooms would 
be tried. Bet the little idiot didn't lock her own door!

Presently he heard the toilet flush again, doors open and close ... 
then blessed silence. There was no movement in the bed with him. 
Goddamn! Has she gone to sleep, or what!? He put his hand down, under 
the covers, and ran his fingers into the silk curls of her hair. "Hey, 
it's okay now, you can come out," he said, tugging. But she hadn't been 
asleep at all, as he quickly discovered, just patiently and obediently 
waiting, for his signal was acknowledged by a juicy, full-lipped kiss 
about the hollow of his navel, and her sharp young tongue gouged into 
it to send shockwaves of pleasure through him. The cool mass of her 
soft hair slid along his belly as she moved down ...

Trapped in the misty, musty warm darkness against the hot flesh of her 
brother, Maryon had felt against her thigh how Mike's cock had rapidly 
lost size and firmness, shrinking back and down softly against her. And 
wondered at it. How strange! What a funny thing to happen! The problem 
was ... was his cock usually long and hard, and only getting smaller 
when he was frightened--for she'd worked that much out, that fear 
reduced it; or did it just come up big at special times ... like when 
she played with it. But no, when she thought about it, she hadn't 
touched him the first time until he was already big and throbbing and 
hot.

She decided to find out in the simplest way, experiment.

Unaware of the thoughts going through her brother's mind, she remained 
where she was under the covers, only moving herself around a bit in the 
kindly warmth to get into a more comfortable and practical position ... 
on half-bent knees that hooked the sole of her right foot up under his 
left armpit, resting on his stomach, stretched over him, her left arm 
on his left thigh, She wished she could see down here ... should have 
brought her flashlight, but another time for that. Maybe her fingers, 
if she kept them moving about him all the time, would see for her. With 
one plump little fist, she thumped his right leg, willing him to spread 
it away from her so that she'd have more room and, primal 
communication, he immediately parted his legs, leaving all his sex to 
rest, dangling, between them. Her hot, quick breath warming his hair 
and the base of his cock, she began her blind examination, not knowing 
what she did when her golden, silky hair floated and dragged about the 
tender, sensitive skin inside his thighs, and her proud young nipples 
scored through the black coiled hair of his belly.

Maryon let both her warm soft hands coddle and cradle his dick, letting 
her thumbs tell her of the cracked, leathery sides of his balls! 
creased and seamed at first, and then magically transforming to 
slippery smooth satin as she cupped them. She circled his cock with her 
finger and thumb and discovered she could now do this easily, though 
before, when it was hard, it was too big for her. The poor thing was 
bent and lax like an old piece of rubber hose. Commiserating with his 
droopy dolly, she put her lips to it and kissed it, running its short, 
squat length between her lips with her fingers beneath it. To her 
surprise she felt it quiver against her, and in a moment she could feel 
... well, what felt like little rivers running crookedly along just 
beneath the skin. And the whole thing was growing again. Excitedly, as 
his blood engorged his veins, she took it in both hands, firmly, and 
squeezed ... it was just like pressing paint from a tube at school--
except that this was being filled, not emptied! Eagerly she fumbled 
till she found his foreskin, surprised to find it warmly moist on the 
inside, and slippery ... like a banana. Carried giggling away by her 
thought, she pressed her full, plump little lips over his cock's end 
and slid the rest of his foreskin back with her teeth until they caught 
behind his rim. Mmmmhhhh! A taste like cheese. And a smell ... well, it 
wasn't quite like swe ... Perspiration--"Horses sweat, people perspire, 
dear!"--but something like it And something like, like 'off-of-cloves,' 
Mommy uses sometimes when she cooks ...

In the hot, airless confines of the bed, Maryon, her face flushed, her 
breath heavy, her trembling body excited, sucked the magic rod, now 
back to its former strength and length ... kissed it, admiringly 
caressed it, rubbed it against her cheek, felt it throb and quiver to 
her touch, squeeeeeeezed it, tried to bend it, felt strange jerks in 
it, marveled at the way the skin of his balls flinched and their 
contents flex, thrilled to the trembling of his own loins ...

... and was hurtfully startled as once again she was thrust from him, 
bared as he flung the bedclothes off them, shocked as he reached under 
his pillow, ignoring her, wrapped something white about the head of the 
column of flesh that stuck up from his hips and, gasping, huddled over 
himself.

Maryon crouched on her knees, her hand to her mouth, trying not to cry 
out with alarm. Was he hurt? Had she done something wrong to him? Would 
he punish her again? He continued to squeeze his cock, and she saw that 
he had a handkerchief around it. He was breathing heavily but, in a 
minute, with a last squeeze and pull at himself, he lay back on the 
pillow and looked at her.

Exhausted, spent, ashamed at having shot his load in front of her, 
suddenly scared that he'd frighten her with his sudden roughness, and 
that she would go running off crying to their parents, Mike thrust the 
soiled handkerchief under the mattress and reached for his sister.

"It's okay, Sis," he whispered in her ear. "You did just right. That's 
what happens when men ... well ... Hey, are you okay now?"

Reassured, she nodded against his bare shoulder. He gave her a gentle 
kiss. "Look, I reckon that's enough excitement for one day, for you. Uh 
... while you're still warm, before you catch cold, put your nightgown 
on and go back to bed, eh?"

A bit disappointed, feeling somehow cheated, Maryon nodded again, 
hugged him once, got off the bed, slipped into her pink nightgown, 
looking and fee ling forlorn in the cold moonlight, and picked her way 
over to the door.

"Hey," he whispered after her. "We'll do this again, Sis. And don't 
forget to be quiet, and lock your door after you again. Don't tell the 
folks, okay?"

She ran back to him and threw her slim arms about him. Her brother was 
so big and good, and she wouldn't hurt him for the world. But ... that 
... that cock! was a funny, frightening thing, if it made him act like 
that ...

Silently the little figure slipped off into bed and her dreams.



Eleven Years Old


"You mean to say you've never heard of Truth, Dare and Promise? You 
Yanks don't know nothing. C'mon, I suppose I'll have to teach you ..."

It was the summer of '62. Maryon had made one firm friend at school, 
but even to Karen she'd made no mention of her exciting games with 
Mike. Though, lately ... for some months in fact ... he'd paid little 
attention to her. She'd suspected for some time that he was enjoying 
himself with his new girl friend, that Riva Kamparsky who treated her, 
on the few occasions she deigned to come over to the house, like a 
little kid. One day she'd show them all how grown up she was ... how 
much of a girl ... how much she knew about making a boy happy, even if 
she was little and young.

But so often had she gone to sleep thinking such thoughts, and so 
commonplace had they become to her childish, still largely unformed 
mind, that they'd sunken deep into her, and were now unvoiced and 
unnoticeable, as quiet and secret as a cancer. She certainly wasn't 
consciously aware of them as, this hot, bright day, she sat with the 
others in the barn next to stables of the Matherly Ranch.

Matherly's wasn't a working ranch, more of a rich man's hobby and tax 
loss. Glenville was too close to, and too much a part of the great 
Metropolis for a rough and ready acreage to be farmed, or much 
livestock raised. But the estate of the Matherlys was as secluded and 
spread out as their money could make it, with green pasture land for 
the string of horses, and comfortable quarters for them away from the 
main house. The barn was full of straw, dried and in bales or, these 
broken, scattered thickly over the floor, while upstairs the remnants 
of last winter's hay still smelt sweetly from over the edge of the high 
loft and suffused the close air of the darkened building, with only 
occasional shafts of sun sliding through cracks and between the tall, 
all-but-closed doors.

"You Yank kids probably know it as something else ... another name." 
The speaker was Colin--Colin something. He was English, visiting 
thirteen-year-old Sylvia Matherly for the summer vacation ... the 
'hols' as he called it. From his lofty height of fourteen years he 
seemed to regard the rest of them, Karen, Maryon's twelve-year-old 
friend from school, her 'boy friend,' the same age as Sylvia ... Derek, 
his friend Johnny, a year younger, and Sylvia herself, currently 
'dating' Johnny, and Maryon the youngest at eleven, with a considerable 
amount of condescension somewhat boosted by his exotic position of 
being 'Sylvia's English cousin.'

This was Maryon's first meeting with him and was, indeed, only the 
third time she'd been invited to Sylvia's to play, the invitation being 
extended through Karen who, though she usually kept herself aloof from 
the others at school, was mysteriously strong enough in her personality 
to go where she wanted, and had taken a sort of liking for Maryon's 
company, even though she was a year and a class ahead of her at St. 
Joan's. In Glenville it was a mark of snobbish distinction to be 
accepted as a 'Jonah', and Burt and Louis had groveled to get their 
daughter into the school.

For some reason Karen had laid it importantly upon her that this day 
she should wear her full school uniform for the visit to the Matherlys, 
and dutifully Maryon had obeyed, wearing her soft white ruffle-fronted 
blouse with the blue-and-brown school tie neatly in place, the knee-
length brown skirt with blue hatchlines, blue jacket with brown piping, 
white long socks that nearly met her skirt's hem, tidy black button 
shoes and, on her long blonde hair, braided into two plaits, her school 
hat, of pale yellow straw with a blue-and-brown banded ribbon. She was 
a bit put out to find that the other two girls were very casually 
dressed, in contrast, Karen in tight hip-hugging Levi's of faded blue 
that looked as if they'd been painted on her and, above a navel-bare 
midriff, a short, loose, sleeveless top, its once-bright lines of color 
now washed out. Sylvia, barefoot, was tanned darkly the length of her 
legs, which only at their very tops vanished beneath a pair of white 
shorts, which matched the brief halter beneath which her burgeoning 
breasts strained the thin cotton cloth. Again in contrast to Maryon's 
neatness, while Sylvia's short brown hair hung in a froth about her 
head, Karen's jet black uncut tresses were caught into a ponytail 
secured by a rubber band, leaving her oval, white face a clear setting 
for her greeny-blue eyes.

Maryon really felt out of place, the more so as the three boys were 
even more informal in attire ... Johnny in jeans and a flapping, 
unbuttoned shirt, Derek in tight red-and-white checked Bermudas, and 
Colin wearing a pair of faded light-tan shorts loose about his thighs. 
The excuse Karen'd made was to show Colin that some schools in America 
wore clothes like they did in England! though why Sylvia, in the same 
house with him, couldn't have worn her uniform, Maryon didn't think to 
ask.

Now the five settled themselves down to listen as Colin explained the 
game. Earlier they'd played hide-and-go-seek, but Maryon didn't much 
care for that, not since Derek had tried to kiss her. He was Karen's 
guy, and ought not to fool around with another girl, surely? She hoped 
this one would turn out better, though, since Sylvia and Karen were 
paired off with Johnny and Derek, it didn't look like Colin was going 
to pay her much attention ... he was three years older! She returned 
her attention to the English boy.

"Now, this is the way it goes," he said. "One of us ... doesn't matter 
who goes first ... gets to ask each of the others whether they choose a 
truth, a dare, or a promise. Then, whatever they choose, he asks them 
something ... whether it's true that something is so-and-so-like, 'is 
it true that you like, well, someone?' Whoever the Inquisitor says, 
see? And if it's a dare, then, the Inquisitor can dare him or her to do 
anything he likes. Or if it's a promise, then they have to promise to 
do ... well, whatever the Inquisitor tells 'em."

"Sounds okay," said Derek, and Sylvia thought it was a groovy idea.

"But what happens if whoever you ask doesn't want to answer, or do 
whatever it is you dare 'em to do?" asked Johnny.

"Then the Inquisitor can order 'em to pay a forfeit, do or say 
something else. And they have to pay the forfeit, that's very important 
and we've all got to agree before we start on that, else it's no good 
playing the game. Okay? Do you all agree? Then we can start now. Who 
wants to be Inquisitor the first time around?"

They looked at each other. Colin alone stood before them, careless and 
looking almost naked to Maryon's eyes with his golden hair, bronzed 
skin, and pale tan pants. She sat on a bale of hay while the other four 
lounged on the soft strawed floor each side of her, Sylvia and Johnny 
on her right, Karen and Derek at her left. Colin looked at her. "How 
about you, Maryon Alysun--that's a pretty name, kid!-do you want to go 
first? You're the youngest."

Confused, she shook her head. "Nah, you go first, Colin," said Johnny. 
"You know how to play it best. Then we can learn from you."

"All right," he said. "We'll do it in order, then. I'll ask first. 
Okay? Right, then. Ah, Sylvia, do you want a Truth, a Dare, or a 
Promise?"

"Oh, I'll take a Truth, Colin," said his cousin, shrugging her frail 
freckled shoulders.

"Um ... is it true you like Johnny a lot?"

"Oh yes," said Sylvia, taking her boyfriend's hand and squeezing it 
till he flushed and moved uncomfortably.

"Very good," said Colin. "Now, Johnny, how about you, what will you 
take?"

"Oh, the same as Sylvia."

"A Truth? Well, then ... is it true you like her as much as she likes 
you?"

"Oh, I suppose so!"

"You only suppose so? Won't you give us a Yes or a No, Johnny? 
Otherwise you haven't answered properly and you'll have to pay us a 
forfeit."

"Oh ... yes I like her as much as she likes me," he got out, not 
looking at Sylvia. But she wasn't about to let him get off easily, and, 
throwing an arm about his neck, kissed him on the lips. "You'd better," 
she warned, darkly.

Colin looked at Maryon. "Now, then, what about you?"

She thought she caught the suspicion of a wink from him to Sylvia, but 
paid no attention to it. "I think," she said, "that I'll take a Dare."

"Hah, good kid ... braver than these two, at any rate. Let's see, now 
... I dare you to ... go climb up the ladder there and come down again 
before I count twenty. One, two, three ... Go! "

Before she was quite sure of what she was doing, Maryon found herself 
clambering up the tall, straight-set ladder that led to the loft, 
frantically trying to beat the count of Colin's voice below her. 
Halfway up, while he was still at four, she saw that he was standing 
directly beneath her, as though to make sure she went all the way up, 
and was blushingly aware that he could see all the way up between her 
legs to where her dark blue elastic-topped and legged underpants would 
cut off the view. But she scurried on up, stood swaying on the top-but-
two-rung then climbed down again taking the steps two at a time, Her 
light skirt billowing up slightly and once getting caught so that she 
lost a beat in getting it dislodged from the splinter, noticing Derek 
also, flat on his back, nearly underneath her. However, her face red 
from the exertion, she managed to get her feet on the ground again just 
as Colin counted 'twenty' ... though he whispered in her ear as he went 
back to the center of the semi-circle: "You cheated, you know. I slowed 
the count for you. Remember that. But I don't think the others 
noticed."

Out of breath, she sat down on the bale of hay again and tried not to 
look at anyone as he next asked Karen what she would choose.

"I'll take a Dare too," said the black-haired girl, boldly, looking at 
the ladder. But her challenge was to be different.

"Right. I dare you ... to come over here and do a handstand. I'll hold 
your ankles so you don't fall," said Colin.

Karen pouted but, without argument, placed her hands on the floor and 
swung her lithe white body up until she was upside down against his 
restraining hands. As she remained there, breathing strongly in and 
out, her loose top slowly edged down her upper body so that, since she 
was facing the others, the hard black nubs of her nipples were just 
revealed, set in her pair of flat, oval breasts, their darkness 
startling against her pale white flesh. Karen didn't tan. Maryon, 
moving only her eyes, saw that the grinning Derek was intent on the 
view afforded him, and that Colin had leaned his head over slightly so 
as to see down His victim's body. In a moment he let his hands drop to 
her hips and expertly swung her back onto her feet. As she walked back 
to drop to the floor, Maryon observed that her friend seemed to swing 
her hips just a little more lithely under the tight Levi's, and her 
hands were slow to pull down her disarrayed top.

"Very good, Karen, you're a good sport," said Colin. "Okay, Derek, 
what's it to be?"

"A Promise for me," said the cautious boy, thinking this to be the 
easiest and less troublesome choice.

"Ahah, the first with a Promise! Let me think about this. Derek, do you 
promise to tickle Karen until I tell you to stop?"

"What?" cried the startled boy. "But that means Karen has to be part of 
it too!"

Colin blandly stared at him. "Doesn't matter," he said. "That's part of 
the fun of the game, see? Go on, now, she can run if she wants to, but 
she has to stay inside the barn."

Promptly acting on his suggestion, Karen leaped to her feet and tried 
to evade her pursuer who, now that he got the idea, ardently played his 
part. After some minutes of the chase, he had her cornered against the 
ladder where she leaned, breathless, and he begin to tickle her 
unmercifully, concentrating mainly on her bare sides and her neck. She 
screamed helplessly at him until Maryon thought someone would hear her 
and come, till she remembered they had the run of the place today and 
were alone. In a moment the writhing Karen fell to the straw beside 
them, and instantly Derek was astride her, his busy fingers running up 
and down her quivering sides then, as she tried to fight him, up under 
her armpits and into her throat he went, until she was kicking and 
twisting uncontrollably. Before long her scanty top was riding high up 
her slim young body and once more her sharp black nipples were on view, 
though she was struggling so hard they seemed to shimmer against her 
pale skin.

Concentrating on his task, Derek let his full weight sit on her hard 
thighs and, holding her thin wrists in one of his hands, with the other 
began to play about her navel and then, inexorably, up her fragile rib 
cage to the soft silken bags of her shallow breasts, where with finger 
and thumb he began to rapidly circle their stiff little cores. Maryon 
saw that his mouth was open and he was breathing as hard as if he were 
the one putting up a desperate struggle. But she'd noticed her brother 
Mike sometimes went like that when he was excited over playing with 
her, so she supposed that was what it was, even though this was 
different. This was just ordinary play, wasn't it?

Just then Colin told Derek to leave off and, panting, the T-shirted boy 
got up and threw himself to the floor by Maryon. She wondered why he so 
awkwardly adjusted himself under the bulging red-and-white checked 
Bermudas. Karen merely rolled over and hugged herself into a ball, 
fighting for breath so that Maryon could see her slim, naked rib cage 
expanding and collapsing like a bellows.

Very casually indeed, Colin sauntered over near the girl curled up on 
the floor and propped one bare foot on the bottom rung of the ladder, 
putting himself at the end of the line.

"Your turn, Sylvia," he said, over his shoulder, and his young cousin 
got up and took His previous place, exchanging looks with him when she 
stood there that Maryon thought, for some reason, significant.

Johnny was the first to be asked, this time, and he again chose a 
Truth. Sylvia smiled, a bit evilly, Maryon thought, and poked her slim, 
limber tongue between her full, rosebud lips. "Is it true," she said, 
"that you'll shout out what I whisper in your car? And remember, kiddo, 
I get to give you a forfeit if you don't!"

"Uh, yeah ... I guess," said Johnny.

Sylvia, grinning impishly, went to him, leaned over and breathed in his 
ear. "Now, loud as you can," she said. The boy went red in the face 
then, looking at no one, bawled out, at the top of his voice: "COCK! 
CUNT!"

A shock went through Maryon ... Mike had taught her all the words like 
that, but she'd never heard them right out loud like that. A hot and 
cold shiver went through her and unconsciously she pressed her legs 
together. This was some strange game! And it was her turn next! What 
should she choose!? She heard the older Sylvia ask her, and she 
hesitated. "I'll take a Promise, I think," she said.

"That's easy," said Sylvia, laughing at her with her hands on her hips. 
"Do you promise that, whenever I tell you to, you'll shout out what 
Johnny just said, and just as loud?"

Beside her she could hear the now recovered Karen giggle, and she felt 
the blood rushing into her cheeks. Her ears were singing, and her voice 
sounded strained and hoarse, as she got out: "Yes ... Sylvia ... yes."

She expected she would have to fulfill her promise now, and mentally 
prepared herself, swallowing, but such was not to be the case, for 
Sylvia swung toward Karen, who was now sitting next to Derek, but not 
so closely as before, in her original place.

"Karen?"

"A Truth, this time!"

"Mmmhhh ... Okay, Karen, is it true that you didn't mind at all showing 
us all your titties just now?"

"You're a rat, Sylvia, and I'll get you for this."

"Rat to you, too, but what's the answer? And remember the forfeit."

Karen had the grace to bob her head down as she mumbled, but loud 
enough for the others to hear: "No, I didn't much mind."

Sylvia was not about to let her off so easily. "What didn't you mind, 
Karen?"

"Showing off my tits, goddamn it!" was the louder reply.

"That's better. Now, Derek?"

"Dare!"

"Right ... I dare you to tell us truthfully what you were thinking of 
when Karen's titties were showing."

Derek blushed and looked awkwardly at his feet. "Uh. Nothing much. She 
... they ... I wasn't excited or anything," he stammered at last.

That earned him a burning, sidelong glance from his girl-friend, but 
Sylvia was not satisfied. "What d'you think, kids, is that the truth? 
Or shall I make him pay a forfeit?"

"Hey, that's not fair," protested Derek, but Johnny and Colin gleefully 
agreed he should be forfeited.

"Oh, I'll get you," he hissed savagely at Johnny, behind Maryon's back, 
but nevertheless he promised to pay.

"Then ... Karen shall have a chance at tickling you," said Sylvia. "But 
this time, you mustn't run away, and you mustn't try to stop her, but 
just he there and let her do it."

Karen laughed, and stood over Derek as he reluctantly streched himself 
out on the floor, arms above his head as she directed, then, hunkering 
down over his hips till Maryon thought the bard round cannonballs of 
her butt would burst through the tight, trim Levi's. Then, her slim, 
deft little fingers were busy at the tight-drawn waistband of his 
Bermudas, under it, then under the edge of the T-shirt and, pulling it 
up, were free to tantalize and torment his bare flesh. She started off 
as he had, by letting her hands attack his sides, where he, like most 
people, was most sensitive, but before long, as he twisted, his mouth 
grimacing with the effort to not give in and laugh, Maryon could see 
the ten slender digits beginning to dig into his soft, flesh, moving 
slowly but steadily about him until they gouged his belly.

Maryon was surprised at the look in Karen's eyes, almost slitted--
shining, fierce, secret--as the girl dug her sharp-nailed thumbs into 
the outer moat of Derek's navel as if she would slice him there. But, 
as he bucked instinctively beneath her, throwing her forward, she eased 
off a bit and instead let her wandering hands work up into his hairy 
armpits, at which point he broke down and wriggled and gasped and 
hysterically laughed as she'd done when their positions had been 
reversed. Finally, as if torn between being bored at this childish 
sport and a reluctance to let her victim free, Karen sat back against 
his upthrust knees, brushed the back of her hand against her brow, and 
asked Sylvia: "That's enough for now, isn't it?"

The older girl, who'd been hovering over the squirming pair, nodded 
and, a bit wearily, Karen leaned over and kissed the stilled Derek 
lightly; quickly, and rolled off him.

"Okay, Colin, over to you," said Sylvia.

"Dare," said the boy laconically.

Sylvia looked briefly around the others before facing him as he leaned 
against the ladder. She seemed to swallow, then said: "I'll do you a 
favor, cousin. Since we're sort of in twos, the rest of us, I mean, I 
think you ought to make up to Maryon, so's she's not left out of 
things. So ... I dare you to give her a big, real, romantic kiss and 
hug. All right?"

"Righto," said the taller, golden-haired Colin and, pushing himself 
away from the ladder, stepped quickly over to stand in front of Maryon, 
whose pulse was already palpitating at this sudden thrust to 
prominence. "Stand up, luv," he said, taking her elbow, "and let's show 
them what it's all about, eh?"

Something in his manner, something in his subtly burning stare, 
something she could almost smell reminded her suddenly, sharply, of 
Michael, so that as she got to her feet, her knees felt weak and she 
almost sat down again. Letting him take the initiative, she gladly 
surrendered herself to him, uncaring now of what he might do with her 
or of what might happen. She felt maybe this might be what 'being in 
love' was like, being shaky like this, and a bit faint and helpless.

Colin put one arm about her, under her long jacket, and tightened his 
hand about her waist. His other hand held her just behind the shoulder 
and, putting one lean leg behind hers, and the other between them, 
leaned her so that she was just off balance. The hand behind her 
slipped a little lower and pulled her tight in against him, while the 
other touched her neck and raised her face toward his. Looking down at 
her with a strange light in his eyes, he bent to kiss her and, 
instinctively, she opened her mouth and thrust with her tongue as Mike 
had taught her to do. She felt him start, then his lips were hard on 
hers and their tongues began to battle in their mouths, each pushing 
and withdrawing, sucking and wriggling. The hand at her back cupped her 
ass, now, outside the cloth of her skirt, so that her unprotected groin 
was ground into by his hip, and against her own hip she felt his large 
softness through the layers of thin material. Now she put up her own 
arms about his neck and pulled herself up harder against him, dealing 
with him as she'd often done with her brother, knowing that this was 
the right way for grown-ups--somehow Mike and Colin both seemed grown-
up--to kiss and show their affection for each other. And she now 
desperately wanted to show her affection for the English boy.

She closed her big blue eyes and plumped up her soft red cherub lips 
and gave as much of herself to him as she was able, not seeing the 
surprised and grinning faces of the others about her as they intently 
watched. She wriggled her hips a bit, to better adjust to his height, 
and felt his hidden flesh roll around to her belly so that she was able 
to press it between them. The hand at her cute little butt was 
clasping, grasping, squeezing her deliciously and, except for the 
strain on her arms, she would have been prepared to have gone on 
kissing like that forever. But after a while she felt a tap on her 
shoulder and, dazed, she opened her eyes to see Sylvia standing over 
them.

"Okay, okay, enough already," the bigger girl said, parting the two 
like the referee at a wrestling match on TV. "Well," she continued, as 
Maryon dropped weakly to her bale of hay, "you really know how to kiss, 
don't you? Perhaps you can give us lessons, huh?"

Karen and the others giggled, but she saw that Colin was staring at her 
with an odd light in his eyes, as if he'd just discovered something 
curious, startling, and worthy of further investigation. His face 
looked hot and flushed. "Thanks," he said, surprisingly, then took his 
cousin aside for a moment and whispered something quickly in her ear.

Maryon was very pleased with herself at having come through this 
experience so well and having acted not at all like the little kid girl 
they seemed to have expected. She even managed to wink at Karen, who 
was stroking Derek's hand where he held her round the waist, his hand 
red and fleshy on the girl's pale bare skin.

"All right, Johnny, it's your turn now to be Inquisitor," said Sylvia, 
returning. She dropped down onto the straw where her boyfriend had been 
sitting as he got up and stood in front of the small group.

"You first?" he asked her.

"Not really ... put me last, after Colin. That way it all works out 
equal," she said, stretching out with an arm bent beneath her head, so 
that beneath each cup of her halter a full crescent of tanned soft 
flesh spilled.

"Looks like it's your turn again, kid," said Johnny, hitching up his 
jeans and looking at the still flushed Maryon, who could hardly keep 
her covert eyes off Colin, who'd returned to his stance by the ladder.

"Oh, um ... oh, I'll take another Dare," she said, somewhat 
breathlessly. Her eleven-year-old body wholly ached that it would have 
something to do with Colin.

But she was to be disappointed. Johnny scratched his stomach, in deep 
thought, while she willed him with her eyes to please have her kiss 
Colin, or something. "Okay," he said, after a while, "here's what you 
do. You see the way Karen's got her hair down, in a ponytail, so that 
it sticks out, then hangs down? Well ..." he winked quickly at Derek, 
"... you have to go and take off her vest, but you have to do it so 
that you don't pull her hair up with its neck ... understand? We'll 
watch you, and you pay a forfeit if you mess it up. Go on, now. Karen, 
you kneel down there, so you're not too tall. You can put your arms up, 
to help her, that's all."

Obediently Karen dropped forward on her knees, and held her hands up 
over her head, quivering slightly. She looked down at the floor, but as 
Maryon approached she thought she saw a glint in those greeny-blue eyes 
from under the long, dark lashes.

At first the problem didn't seem too difficult ... the neck of the top 
was wide and the hole it caused quite large. The others crowded round 
to observe everything. Maryon considered. If she took the thing by its 
bottom edge and lifted, the way it would normally come off, she might 
not be able to see at the back properly to make sure the ponytail 
wasn't disturbed. The other way was more awkward, but it might be 
better in the end. Carefully she reached down, standing behind her 
friend, and hooked her fingers under the neckline at each side. She 
gently began to lift and the garment slid up the slim body without 
trouble until, just as Maryon had the ponytail safely hanging down 
inside the back, the front caught on Karen's chin. Try as she might, 
she just could not get the two things, the hair and the jaw, clear of 
the top's hole, even when she tried putting her hands at front and back 
instead of at the side. Johnny and Derek and Colin, she saw without 
really looking, were much more interested in looking at Karen's body 
than at her efforts, but Sylvia kept a hard eye on her struggles with 
the recalcitrant top.

Finally, just when she thought she had it clear all around and 
triumphantly jerked smoothly upward along the upraised arms, the thing 
caught under Karen's nose, the back pulled forward, and her hand 
snagged against the girl's long black hair and bent it up into a loop.

"Not quite! Not quite!" laughed Sylvia, jumping up and down and 
clapping her hands. "You didn't quite make it, kid."

In disgust, not caring, Maryon swiftly tugged the top up over Karen's 
bare arms and half-threw it at Johnny. "There!" she said. "That's the 
best I could do. Did I hurt your nose, Karen? I'm sorry."

Throwing one slim arm over her naked, pale, shallow breasts, Karen, 
half hunching her shoulders, rubbed briefly at her nose, then sniffed 
up at Maryon. "It's all right, baby," she said. "Don't worry about it."

She reached for her top, but Johnny, stepping back, passed it to Derek. 
"Not yet, babe," he told her and, with a pout, she sat down, brought 
her knees up against her chest and put her arms about them, and waited 
for Johnny to ask her her choice.

When the question came, "Truth!" she declared, in a husky voice.

"Is it true that you're wearing nothing under your Levi's?" asked 
Johnny. "And you'll have to prove it."

"Oi! what about Maryon Alysun's forfeit?" interrupted Colin.

"Oh, yeah. Forgot about that," muttered Johnny. "Say, is it all right 
if I give her one later, before we leave, but when I think of 
something?"

"I guess that's okay," said the English boy, smiling at his cousin, 
who'd flopped down by Maryon again. "Later, later, masturbator!"

Derek barked out a laugh, then flushed deeply when Colin turned a bland 
gaze on him. 'Okay, let's got on with it, Johnny," he mumbled.

"Well, Karen?" asked Johnny. "Are you or aren't you ... and will you?"

"The answer to the first question is, No! No, I'm not, that is; yes, 
it's true. Okay? And to the second question, well, I'll let Derek prove 
it, all right?" And before anyone could object, she'd unbuttoned the 
top of her pale blue Levi's, unzipped a couple of inches, leaving 
marginal room, reached for her startled boyfriend's hand and thrust it 
down in back of her, his palm against her skin. From above Maryon could 
just see the dark-shadowed valley between the two squashed-up globes of 
Karen's butt before Derek's hand eased down against it. His wrist 
wriggled and his hand thrust deeper as he felt, clumsily, at her skin, 
then he withdrew it and, as Karen rearranged her clothes, said, a bit 
shamefacedly: "It's true, Johnny. Take my word for it."

His friend grinned. "Don't say I never did anything for you, Derek. 
Okay, I'm satisfied with that. Now, it's your turn."

Derek thought for a moment, rubbing his recently pants-immersed palm 
against his smooth young chin. "I think 'I'll try a Dare," he said, 
licking his lips and eyeing his black-haired girlfriend.

Johnny smiled at him. "Well, since Maryon the world-famous champion 
kisser took something off your girl, I'll give you a chance to get 
even. I ... dare ... you ... to take Maryon up into the loft there and, 
before I count up to one hundred, take off her panties and bring her 
and them back down to us."

Derek's face was hot and his eyes shone as he looked from his friend 
toward Maryon, who felt a shiver of apprehension go through her. If it 
had been Colin-! But, still, they were letting her play with them, and 
not as if she were a little kid. Half reluctantly she stood up. "Okay, 
blondie?" breathed Derek, and she nodded.

"You don't start counting till we're both on the ladder, all right?" he 
flung back over his shoulder. Taking Maryon by the elbows, he steered 
her over to the ladder, where Colin obligingly made room for them, and 
let her get three rungs up before putting his own foot on the bottom 
rung. "Now, when he says, Go! you just shoot up there, hear?" he 
whispered heavily in her ear. "When we get up there, just leave it to 
me. You don't want us both to get forfeits, do you?"

Johnny brought his hand down and said: "One!" and Maryon felt Derek's 
bony shoulder press hard up under the cheeks of her butt. Awkwardly but 
quickly she climbed up the ladder for the second time so far, 
everything happening so quickly about her that she hardly knew what she 
was doing. She fell over the lip of the loft and immediately she was 
being shoved forward from behind by the impatient boy.

"Eleven!" she heard from down below, and realized they'd have more time 
than she'd thought. She blinked in the semi-darkness, and coughed at 
the hay-dust, kneeling up. Derek, standing beside her, pushed her down 
so that she was on hands and knees.

"Fourteen!"

A rough hand caught at the hem of her skirt and flung it up over her 
back. "Please don't tear it!" she implored. Her only answer was a dig 
in the small of her back as he eased his knuckles up under her 
waistband so as to grasp the top of her brown panties.

"Eighteen!"

Looking back she saw Derek, silhouetted against the loft's opening, 
kneeling down behind her, his legs outside her own slender pair. On a 
new ploy, he ran his hands up her bare thighs until he could get his 
thumbs under the elastic there and then tugged, trying to jerk the 
whole thing down off her.

"Twenty-one!"

She felt her belly quiver as the front of her panties came a fraction 
free, and then his hot hands were at their top again, and this time she 
heard his sigh of relief as he got a good grip on them. He pulled until 
she felt the tight elastic slip completely over her butt, and she knew 
that even in that dim light he could see the plump round curves of 
flesh exposed to the air. For a second she felt his thumbs brush over 
her skin and she goose-bumped, her mouth dry.

"Twenty-seven!"

Johnny seemed to be counting awful slow ... much slower than the first 
time. Or maybe it was only her imagination. The hands at her behind now 
completely circled the rumpled cloth at each side of her lower hips and 
then, in one smooth motion, it was down about her thighs. Roughly she 
felt a hand wriggle in between them and without demur she parted them a 
bit so as to let him drag the crotch-piece clear. Another second, and 
the pants rested on the backs of her knees.

"Thirty!"

"Lift your knees up!" hissed Derek, leaning over her, and, one by one, 
she obliged, so that in a moment he had them stripped completely from 
her.

"Thirty-two!" came from downstairs.

Glad that they were in plenty of time for their return, Maryon was 
about to sit up and pull her skirt down when an arm went about her and 
she was rolled over on her back in the soft, warm hay. "Hear that?" 
Derek breathed. "Still another sixty-six to go, and it'll only take us 
ten to get down. And I mean to get one of those super-kisses of yours, 
first!"

He flung himself upon her and she couldn't resist. She didn't really 
want to kiss him, but, if it pleased him, why not. She puckered up her 
little plump lips and offered her face to him in the dark, wincing a 
bit when his hard lips found hers and his strong tongue began to thrust 
between her teeth. Then, suddenly, she jumped as a hot sweaty hand 
grabbed her knee, slid steadily up her thigh, and finally clasped her 
at her joint, so that she could feel his thumb rub excitingly over her 
little bush of blonde fuzz. She hadn't expected this and, although she 
didn't much care for him, remembering all the while he was Keven's boy, 
not hers ... it was pleasant to have him fondle her like that. Since 
Mike had stopped feeling her and playing with her, she'd missed the 
touch of someone on her juicy, tiny cunt ... her own hands were never 
quite the same, though she could dream ...

Half content, she lifted one slender leg and let it fall outward from 
the other, and thrilled as immediately Derek responded by sliding his 
forefinger beneath her until it was jammed in the crack-of her ass, 
while his thumb continued its pressing, circling play on her wide-open 
crotch. Against her face she could feel his heavy, hot, rapid breath. 
She struggled to thrust her slim hips up at him, and, as if in a dream, 
was about to move her own tiny hand in between them until she could 
touch him in the way she knew Mike liked to be touched when: "Eighty-
two!" floated up from below and, to her regret, Derek released her.

"Christ!" he said, apparently to himself. "You're really hot for it 
kid, aren't you!?" He sounded astonished, which Maryon found surprising 
... wasn't this the grown-up way of girls and boys? She was almost 
mutinous when he grabbed her wrist, flipped down her skirt, and pulled 
her to her feet. "let's get out of here," he said. "I've got things to 
teach Karen!"

He pushed her toward the ladder and, in a hurry now, she clattered 
down, acutely aware, all of an innocent sudden, that the other four 
were clustered at the ladder's foot and staring keenly up under her 
billowing skirt at her twinkling little cleft and her pulsing little 
buttocks. Not looking at them, she skipped to her bale of hay and sat 
down, crossing her legs to contain the fiery electric glow high between 
them, and watched as Derek jumped down and handed her brown pantie to 
Johnny just as the latter said, with a broad grin: "One hundred! Uh ... 
what took you so long, Derek?" glancing down at his friend's bulging 
Bermudas. Hastily the boy plumped down next to the amused Karen.

Colin stepped forward and grabbed the tiny brown garment from Johnny. 
"Hah!" he said, waving them. "A good old-fashioned pair of knickers ... 
just like the birds wear in the good old Yewwwwnited Kingdom! You'll 
get 'em back later, luv," he said in an aside to Maryon, throwing them 
on top of Karen's discarded piece of clothing. "Right, now ... no 
hanging about, who's next?" he went on, squatting with his back to the 
ladder.

"You, chum!" said Johnny, as the others settled down. "What d'you 
want?"

"Oh, I suppose I might as well have a Dare," he said.

Johnny looked at Sylvia. "Then I dare you, Colin, to take off that bra 
thing of your cousin's. Sylvia, you have to stand up, now, over here."

Sylvia made a moue of simulated annoyance, and strolled long-leggedly 
over to where Johnny stood, and turned to face the others. Colin, with 
an almost arrogant smile, followed her and, at Johnny's indication, 
stood behind his cousin, while the Inquisitor stood to one side. Taking 
the older girl's hands, he placed them on her hips, then fumbled at her 
back with the knot of the halter. In a moment the thin white cotton 
eased forward and from beneath it flowed two tanned crescents of soft 
flesh. Very slowly Colin slid his hands up the careless, defiant-eyed 
girl's arms to her slim shoulders until his fingers were under the 
loose strings there and then, as slowly, pulled his hands apart so that 
the material of the halter inched down over the budding breasts, not 
quite baring the nipples.

Maryon noticed that even Karen, her own part-nakedness seemingly 
forgotten, was leaning forward to watch the denuding of her girlfriend. 
Holding the thing together at the back, Colin flipped the shoulder 
straps down past Sylvia's elbows and lifted her bent arms out of them, 
letting her hands return to their akimbo position. Now he took an end 
of the halter in each of his hands and, parting them, began to pull the 
thing back and forth across her, affording tantalizing glimpses of her 
young breasts to the others. After a minute of this, during which 
Sylvia stirred restlessly on her feet, swaying her hips, he 
dramatically ripped the cloth away, leaving her totally exposed. And, 
because of the friction of the cloth on her breasts as he'd teased it 
across them, her small pink nipples, red-ended, stood out from her like 
hard round berries. While Colin moved out from behind her, throwing the 
halter on the growing pile of discarded clothes on the straw, and stood 
where he could clearly see her, the brazen thirteen-year-old stood 
there in her loose white shorts alone for all of them to see, probably 
proud that she gave them a better showing than had Karen when similarly 
displayed.

For her age her breasts were quite full ... firm and round and as 
tanned as the rest of her slender body, smooth and balanced and large 
enough to cause a thin dark line of shadow as they slightly overlapped 
the fair skin below, and just touching each other. As she deliberately 
took a deep breath they seemed to swell, parted, then came together 
again, jouncing gently, their hard nipples casting their own black 
shadows on the soft globes. Bridling at the others' obvious admiration, 
she flushed delicately, and slowly brought her hands up from her hips, 
across her flat belly, and up until she could cup her child-sized but 
bounteous bosom, lifting them separately as though to offer further and 
closer examination.

Maryon stared, fascinated at this display, and inwardly hoped that some 
day she, too, would be as well endowed. Certainly it was what boys 
admired in a girl, judging from the absorption of the three in the 
barn. After a long, enraptured minute Johnny, with a gulp, said softly: 
"Uh, Sylvia, it's your turn now. What do you want?"

Still absently fondling herself, with a secret smile in her eyes, she 
said, "MMmmmmMMMhhh! Johnny, can't you guess?"

"Yeah ... well, um, Sylvia, uh Colin did his thing okay, and now you'd 
better get back over there, huh?"

Maryon laughed to herself at the way he was upset by his girl's 
enjoyment of herself and her stark exposure to the others. Dreamily, 
and with a sigh which jiggled her tits, Sylvia sat down cross-legged 
next to the hay-bale. "Oh, all right," she said. "I'll have a Truth."

Johnny looked relieved. "All right, then ... ah ... Maryon seems to 
have more clothes on than any of the rest of us ... so, is it true, 
Sylvia, that you'd like to take three things off her? Name 'em and take 
'em off?"

Again Maryon seemed to be the focus, and she dimpled. Beside her, 
Sylvia stirred and turned to look up at her. "I think, first ... the 
hat."

"Take it off for her, then!"

Sylvia got up and stood in front of Maryon. As she leaned over her full 
breasts swung out from her and, as the older girl's hands deftly 
removed her ribboned hat for her, the youngster found herself staring 
at the soft, swinging mounds before her eyes, the nipples now sunken 
back into their rosy aureoles. The hat was skated to the top of the 
pile, then Sylvia's voice was saying: "And the jacket," and her hands 
were pushing the shoulders of the blue jacket down over her arms. "Why 
don't you stand up-it's easier," said Sylvia, softly and, as the little 
girl obediently rose, brought the jacket down her arms and threw it 
away from her.

Now, Maryon was rather glad she'd worn so many clothes, otherwise three 
might have left her nothing, what with her lost panties and all. What 
would go next? Her tie? Shoes, socks? But the other girl's slim fingers 
were at her waist. "And the skirt, I think," and before Maryon had time 
to think, she felt a loosening of her belt. The short zipper at the 
side took a second, and then she was somewhat dazedly stepping out of 
the brown skirt before it, too, was consigned to the pile. She felt a 
breeze up about her stomach as the blouse fell loosely about her. She 
was wearing nothing underneath, Lois deeming her far too young for even 
a training bra--oh, how she wished she had tittles like Sylvia's! --
and, apart from the tie still knotted neatly at her throat, her only 
coverings apart from the froth-fronted white silk blouse were her knee-
high white socks and her black shiny shoes. Luckily, she thought, the 
level hem of her blouse came halfway down her thighs, but even so, when 
she came to sit back down on the hay-bale, its tightness caused it to 
ride up further, and she could feel prickly straw uncomfortably against 
her chubby bottom.

With a casual "Okay?" Sylvia resumed her cross-legged seat on the floor 
and, as casually, rested one warm hand on Maryon's knee. "It's your 
turn now, kiddo," she said. "You have to go out there and ask us all 
what we want."

Maryon considered, acutely aware of five pairs of older eyes turned and 
burning on her. She wasn't too sure of herself ... it was a lot easier 
to let other people make the decisions, and they seemed to know a lot 
better than she did how this game really worked. Perhaps if she could 
get through it fast, so that it would be someone else's turn quickly? 
"All right, Sylvia," she said, hesitantly. "But--but I'd just as soon 
sit here."

"Righto, Maryon Alysun," called Colin, from the end, so she turned to 
Karen and asked her what she wanted.

As she'd hoped, she was able to move through them without having to 
think up anything very complicated, until she got to Colin.

Karen, on a Dare, had to take Derek's T-shirt off. Derek himself had to 
prove he truthfully liked to kiss Karen, which took a long time and a 
lot of strenuous movement as the couple embraced on the floor. Colin 
excused himself for a moment and left the barn, saying he'd come in on 
the end of the line, so Sylvia was next. She promised to take off 
Johnny's shirt, and did so, leaving the five of them bare from the 
waist up, which nobody seemed to mind. Johnny chose a Promise, too, and 
the little Inquisitor had to think for a moment, until she had him 
promise to find out whether Sylvia wore anything underneath her loose 
white shorts. Instead of unbuttoning herself, older girl stretched out 
one slim tanned leg, rolled and guided Johnny's eager hand up under the 
leg of the brief garment until it vanished altogether from view. But 
beneath the thin cotton they could all see his fingers stretching and 
spanning the beautifully curved mounds of Sylvia's pert ass, and 
believed him when he told them: "Not a thing!"

Colin came back, and it was his turn now. Chinning his long lean 
bronzed body on a rung of the ladder, he laconically indicated that 
he'd have a Dare. Maryon could come up with no quick challenge and, the 
more she thought about it, the more the others grew restless. "Cmon, 
kid, hurry up," urged Sylvia, her hand gently kneading Maryon's knee. 
The young girl tried to think, even more confused now with the pressure 
on her. "Why don't you have him do what he did with you?" asked Sylvia, 
almost certainly thinking of the prolonged and surprisingly passionate 
kiss. But Maryon misread her and eagerly turned to Colin. "I dare you 
to climb up and down the ladder before I count twenty," she said. And, 
amid universal groans of disgust, the English boy easily heaved himself 
up to the top then came sliding smoothly down again, well within the 
count.

"Your go, Karen," he said. But the ponytailed girl shook her head. "I 
can't think of anything much," she said, boredom in her voice. "Let 
Derek go first, if he wants to."

"Hey, everybody," interjected Johnny, "I've just thought of a great 
forfeit for Maryon--remember she owes me one."

"Let's hear it, then," said Sylvia.

"Maryon, first you stand up on that bale of hay you're sitting on," 
said Johnny. When she'd done so, he continued: "Now, Karen, you put 
your top over her head so she can't see, and, Maryon, you're not to try 
to see, and you must stand there until we tell you it's all right, and 
you mustn't say anything, and you mustn't even move unless we tell you! 
Okay ... the rest of you come over here a minute, and I'll tell you 
what we'll do."

Left alone, sightless, standing on the bale in her blouse and shoes and 
socks, Maryon fearfully wondered what they were going to do. Would they 
leave her alone there, while they went off and had some fun together, 
leaving her out of it? Her head was hot beneath the top, and in 
contrast she felt the coolness on her thighs and stomach. Patiently she 
waited.

But not for long. After a great deal of whispering and giggling from 
the far corner of the barn, she heard shuffling footsteps approaching, 
and then, shockingly, a pair of hands locked on her ankles and firmly 
but carefully pulled them apart until her neat black shoes just rested 
on the crumbly edges of the bale. "Put your hands behind your neck, 
Maryon," came someone's voice, and dutifully she did so, trusting they 
would not hurt her. She could hardly conceal a gasp as hands then took 
hold of the bottom of her blouse and began to roll it up until it 
snugly nestled about her waist. They could all see all of her!!! 
Instinctively she tried to press her thighs together but her spread-
legged pose made this impossible. Something in her shrunk but, gamely, 
she bit her lip and let them do what they wanted with her. It was part 
of the Game!

And now a multitude of hands seemed to be upon her skin, from knee to 
waist, sliding, stroking, tickling until she began to wriggle in 
frustration-bringing muted whistles of appreciation--kneading, cupping, 
fondling, gently probing, brushing at the tiny tuft of golden down, 
caressingly thumbing apart the suddenly hard rigid cheeks of her ass, 
circling about her navel. Standing behind her, some one of them cupped 
her knees, then slowly ran his or her fingers up the round firm columns 
of her legs, stroked her thighs until she shivered uncontrollably, 
moved inward to prise apart the bubbly pink lips of her now blossoming 
slit, inserted the tip of a cool finger into her, sending a strong 
shudder through her small body, then withdrew it to continue firmly up 
over her little mound of gold-fuzzed flesh, lightly across her belly, 
then paused to move back around her waist under the rolled-up hem of 
her blouse, thumbs and forefingers gripping her strongly while other 
fingers made small circles against the skin of her sides, at a spot 
just above her hipbones.

It was delightful! Her breath came quicker as the tormenting sensation 
seemed to spread out from the toying fingers to warm her whole body 
from head to toes. She moved a bit, beginning to roll her hips in the 
same rhythm, taken up with the sheer, consuming pleasure that flooded 
her tiny frame.

Then without warning the pair of hands flattened against her and slid 
themselves up under the front of her ruffled white silk blouse until 
they reached her child's buds of breasts. She could have cried at the 
realization that she was flatter-chested even than Karen, and mourned 
that she was not bigger up there. But the fondling hands didn't seem to 
care--she hoped they belonged to Colin. A thumb and finger each nipped 
at her nipples, which had long since hardened like pencil ends, and 
began to twist them about excitingly, tugging and pressing until she 
thought she would go mad. Between her legs, where now other hands 
caressed her, she felt damp ... the numb tingling making her twitch 
involuntarily as though she had to take a piss but, better than that, 
as though she was full of Coke down there, seething and bubbling and 
sizzling, ready to burst out of her. But nothing ever did, only 
sometimes when Mike spent a lot of time on her, a funny-smelling milky 
stuff would ooze out.

The hands at her breasts began to gather up what slight satin flesh 
there was there and to squeeze! squeeze! squeeze! deliciously. And 
sneakily from behind, when she least expected it, a sharp-nailed 
probing finger scratched across the edges of her tight-held asshole and 
she sucked in her breath and threw her slender hips forward. 
Immediately another shock, for as the finger behind insinuated itself, 
wriggling, into her, she felt hot breath at the foot of her belly, a 
contact with bare-fleshed bone, a brush of hair on her stomach and 
something hot and wet and round forced its way into her groin. One of 
them was kissing her cunt!

A series of long, moist kisses breathed hot fire into now, and the 
finger behind forced her to thrust herself against the anonymous face. 
The lips on hers quivered deliberately, and then she thrilled as a 
wiry, writhing, slithery firm something parted her damp, sticky, 
unbearably sensitive pink little pads and bored boldly into her, while 
all the time the mouth clamped to her sucked about it.

This was something new ... something wonderfully new! Mike had never 
sucked her like this, though he'd kissed her lower mouth as often as 
she'd munched on him. Why ... this was even better than a finger! 
Unheeding of the sight she made, standing there in her shoes and long 
white socks, hips and belly thrusting and rolling, she let the blood 
sing in her ears and felt it coursing in icy, fiery rivers through her 
body till she felt faint and feverish.

Things ended abruptly. The questing mouth left her, the tongue took its 
last lick around inside, the finger popped out of her ass, and the 
upper hands, with a last, painful pinch at her nipples, reluctantly 
slid down her bare belly, thoughtfully pulling down the hem of her 
blouse on the way. Someone gave her a hearty smacking kiss on her silk-
covered butt, and then the breathing and the hands and the giggles left 
her alone and withdrew. As her head cleared she heard them moving 
softly about her, and when, at last, Johnny said: "Okay, Maryon, you've 
paid your forfeit. Take that thing off and get down," and she'd shakily 
resumed her bristly seat, she saw them sitting quietly down on the 
floor as before, none of them looking at her.

Instead, Johnny, in rather a strained voice, told Derek to take over as 
Inquisitor. Wiping his hands on his Bermudas, the stocky thirteen-year-
old took his place before them. "Karen?" he asked.

Hugging her shallow breasts, the black-haired girl, her green-blue eyes 
firmly fixed on her toes, said "DARE!" in a voice Maryon decided was 
oddly hoarse.

Her boyfriend looked pale and tense as he said: "Then I dare you to 
show us all whether you have more hair down there than Maryon."

"Oh, no; not just me!" came the quick response from Karen.

"Then you'll have to pay a forfeit," began Derek, but Colin cut in with 
a cool: "Why not see if Sylvia wants a dare, too, Derek."

As the boy looked inquiringly at the big girl in shorts, she nodded, 
licking her lips. "I'll take a Dare, too."

"The same Dare I gave Karen, then," said Derek, staring boldly at her.

The older girl, doing nothing to cover or prevent the sweet jostling of 
her youthful breasts, jerked her head at Karen. "Come on," she said, "I 
suppose we must. You can guess what the forfeit might be!" And the two 
girls, their expressions slightly mutinous, went off into the shadows 
of the barn.

Privately Maryon thought that the forfeits were much better than the 
rest of the game. She'd enjoyed hers, though it worried her that no one 
had paid her any attention since she'd sat down. But that, too, was to 
be changed, apparently.

In a moment the other two girls returned. They'd taken off their pants 
but they still held them protectively in front of their stomachs as 
they walked barefooted across the straw to the center of the 
semicircle. There, after a sort of mutual facial gulp! they stood side 
by side, facing the rest, then sullenly flung Levi's and shorts onto 
the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Maryon was surprised and 
impressed by the amount of hair that grew between thighs ... so much 
more, certainly, than she had. While the tanned-skin Sylvia sported a 
crop of tight-curled brown spring-coils, the ivory white Karen, 
otherwise smaller in every way, surpassed her in this respect, with a 
fine, flourishing nest of jet black that reverse-triangled up her flat, 
pale belly and trailed a shaggy, two-inch-long tapered ebony arrow 
below, completely hiding any sight of her twelve years' vintage Mount 
of Venus.

The ponytailed girl's long lashes were lowered over her strange, green-
blue eyes, but her companion in nudity held her chin high and stared 
brazenly back at the glittering eyes of the three boys. "Satisfied?" 
she said.

"Oh, no fair," drawled Colin. "We have to make the, um, full 
comparison, you know. Maryon, get out there and stand between 'em, eh, 
and let's see what you've got there."

Her legs weak, though she knew she shouldn't think any more of their 
seeing her like this--but, somehow, it was a lot different when she 
could see them--the blonde-braided girl walked over and placed herself 
in the middle of the other two. Bravely she reached down to the bottom 
of her white silk blouse and pulled it up on her stomach. She wondered 
if they'd want her to pull it higher, or even take it off, so she'd be 
like Sylvia and Karen, but they seemed to be satisfied.

"C'mon, you two," said Colin, "let's be good judges and properly 
examine them. Must be fair, you know!"

Following the English boy's lead, they crouched down in front of their 
nude and nubile captives and stared intently at the joints of their 
thighs. Though the two older girls demurred, Colin made them stand with 
legs apart and fingered each in turn, tweaking at their hairs until 
they complained, slyly inserting his fingers under them and casting an 
eye upward to observe the unselfconscious hardening of their nipples 
and the self-conscious suffusion of blood in their faces as they 
suffered his indignities. Derek and Johnny were not slow to follow 
their leader's example, though they were both a little less free with 
their own two girls; Colin, after all, was going back to England, while 
they would have to bear with their girls ... well, forever!

But they made up for it by their treatment of Maryon, who felt herself 
growing positively sore as they plucked and pulled at her short, 
scrubby golden tuft to get it to its longest length, not forgetting to 
scrape their nails, at first excitingly, on her pink and juicy 
pubescent pads.

"Well, I think Karen wins by a length," quipped Colin, twining her jet-
black veil about his fingers. "Gosh, don't you ever trim that bush?" he 
asked her as he got to his feet. She didn't reply, seemingly still 
sullen, though her hard, pointed black nipples in their raised brown 
marbled areolas betrayed her body's eager participation in its 
fingerative ravishment.

"Who's next?" called Derek, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants as 
the other boys returned to their seats, both, Maryon keenly noticed as 
she, too, somewhat regretfully pulled down her blouse and sat on her 
bale, taking care to sit cross-legged with their hands in their laps. 
Karen had begun to go over to her crumpled Levi's, but after a 
whispered word from Sylvia for her ear alone, she reluctantly sat 
beside the older girl, both of them drawing their heels up to their 
plumped-out butts and clasping their knees.

"Looks like me again, old sport," grinned Colin. "This time I'll settle 
for a Promise, I think."

"Um ... let me think; oh, yeah ... you gotta promise now to tell us 
whether you've ever been with a girl, you know ... all the way."

"Jealous!?" said Colin. "Sure thing ... more than one. And I mean ... 
all the way, every which way!"

"Mmhh ... okay. Johnny, whad'you want?"

"Truth! "

"Okay ... is it true you've gone all the way with Sylvia?"

"Oh, you lousy bastard!" came the reply as the boy, put on the spot, 
went a deep red. He looked shiftily at Sylvia, but she refused to meet 
his eyes, her own face darkening. "Yes, of course!" he said defiantly, 
after a pause.

Johnny looked at the naked girl. "Sylvia, is that true?"

"No," she said, coolly, not looking up.

"Oh, sonofabitch," muttered Johnny.

"Looks like you'll have to pay a forfeit, chum," grinned Colin, running 
his hand through his helmet of golden hair.

"Oh, you shut up," said Johnny, furious, still crimson.

"Now, now, children," Karen surprisingly put in. "Don't let's have a 
stupid fight, huh!?"

"Yeah, cool it, Johnny, Colin. Well now, Johnny," said Derek, a cruel 
glint in his eye. "I reckon you ought t'be properly punished. So your 
forfeit is, to let Sylvia take your pants down and spank you."

"What!?" came the indignant protest. But a Game's a game and rules are 
Rules, Maryon, interested, observed, and watched curiously and keenly 
as the shamefaced Johnny, angrily muttering at Derek, let the kneeling 
Sylvia, her big breasts joggling, unbuckle his belt, unzip His fly, and 
tug at his tight jeans until they dropped stiffly about His thighs. 
"Help me, Karen," she said over her shoulder, and together the two 
girls, not bothering in any way to conceal their naked bodies from the 
hot, avid gazes of the others, pulled at the boy's pants until they 
were about his ankles. "Off altogether," decided Sylvia, and they 
roughly pushed Johnny till he sat on the ground, then jerked until he 
was as naked as they.

For he wore no underpants. Maryon saw that he didn't have as much hair 
on him as Michael, and his prick was thinner, too, although she 
couldn't properly tell because it was only just a little bit more hard 
than soft, the girl's handling and his exposure before his friends no 
doubt taking something from him. It looked limp and crestfallen, which 
exactly suited his mood. Without more ado, Sylvia had him kneel down on 
the straw and in a moment the only sound to be heard in the barn was 
the slap of palm on bare flesh. The pale white slabs of his ass began 
to redden, though the girl wasn't really hitting him so hard, and he 
kept his knees together, effectively pulling his dangling parts up to 
the crease of his stomach, and Maryon could see how he tightened his 
rear muscles to harden the smooth marble skin beneath the stinging 
hand. Karen, she noted, remained on her knees beside the pair and 
watched with a glitter in her eyes, though her face smiled. Sylvia's 
fine young breasts swung and swayed with her exertion, though her 
nipples stayed soft, and Colin and Derek seemed to be paying more 
attention to these attractive objects than to the punishment of their 
friend.

"That's enough, Syl," grumbled Johnny, after a minute or so, and, 
panting, her buoyant breasts swelling and shifting silkily against each 
other, his girlfriend sat back on her heels. Still hunched over, he 
started to crawl over to where his jeans were piled, but Karen expertly 
whipped them away, extending her lean, lithe young naked body flat on 
the floor to reach them before he did.

"Oh, no," she said. "What's fair for us is fair for you!"

Complaining under his breath, he went to sit by Sylvia, drawing his 
knees up.

Derek now looked at Maryon. "What'll you choose?" he said.

"A Dare, a Dare," she cried, excited, and hoping that it would somehow 
involve Colin again. But, instead, Derek dared her to go sit on 
Johnny's knees then, in an afterthought, told his friend to sit on the 
hay-bale first. The nude youth started to complain again that the straw 
was sticking in his ass, and didn't seem too thrilled about having the 
kid in his arms, so little Maryon decided to do her best to make him 
feel better. As soon as he'd sat himself down more or less comfortably, 
with his legs over the edge of the bale, she went over to him and, 
lifting the tail of her blouse up a bit, sat on his knees and slid 
along the groove of his thighs till she was close to him. Since it was 
her Dare, she guessed she could make her own arrangements, and, since 
his knees were hard and bony, she preferred the fleshier part of his 
leg to plant her own plump little rump on. Again there came that little 
electric spark just inside her cunt as the hairs on his thighs brushed 
roughly under her naked butt, and then she was settled firmly against 
him, with his cold, limp flesh hard pressed between her thigh and his 
stomach. Without really thinking what she was doing, she reached down 
with her right hand and grasped the length of his cock, adjusting it 
better against her, and hoping to warm it up. She heard him gasp and 
innocently turned her big blue eyes on him with some surprise. Hadn't 
he had a girl touch him before?

Johnny must have wondered what kind of little girl this was, after all, 
as her tiny fingers fondled and manipulated his cock and balls until 
the latter tightened and the former stiffened into a thin pencil. He 
rather guiltily looked about him but the others apparently couldn't see 
the delicate maneuver going on at his crotch. With a surreptitious 
movement he parted his thighs a fraction, with the result that Maryon's 
little white ass was clamped between them as it dropped, and she found 
she could more easily work her slim fingers under his taut testicles to 
toy with them. Letting her flexing hand rest there, she turned her 
attention back to the Game.

Karen was up in front now, her naked white body dramatically contrasted 
by the glossy black curtain that concealed the joint of her thighs. Her 
shallow, oval breasts with their dark, hard centers flowed neatly into 
the other curves of her young body as she stood there with her weight 
on one leg, her hip thrown provocatively out. Her pert, long tongue 
licked her dry lips as she suddenly pointed to Derek, who'd just sat 
down. "Okay, lover," she said. "It should be Colin's turn now but will 
you go first ... or are you chicken?"

Put this way, Derek could hardly refuse the challenge, and stared at 
her naked body lasciviously through narrowed eyes. "Sure III take first 
go," he said. "I'll have a Promise."

If he thought he'd get a delayed bit of action, he was sadly wrong. 
Karen's strange green-blue eyes widened to their fullest. "You have to 
promise to kiss my ass, right here and now!" she threw at him and, 
turning herself about, bent over with her hands on her knees, curving 
her spine so that the pale twin globes of her butt protruded at the 
startled watchers like a pair of blind eyes. As he hesitated she 
wriggled it at him, knees and thighs together, looking back past her 
body with her black ponytail flickering at her ear. Fascinated, Maryon 
could see the dark brown spot that was the girl's asshole and, even as 
she watched, Karen placed both hands on her wiggling rearward cheeks 
and pulled them apart, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind just where 
Derek was invited to place his lips. In Maryon's hand Johnny's prick 
suddenly swelled and began to twitch, and she squeezed it tighter.

"Shit! You find someone else to kiss your butt!" said Derek, outrage in 
his voice. "I'll kick it up your guts before I kiss it!"

"Chicken!" said Sylvia and Karen in unison, and both of them fell into 
a fit of giggles which set the older girl's uncontrolled soft breasts 
to quivering and Karen to stamping the floor. But she quickly recovered 
herself and, standing to face them again, rolling her hips as if to 
encourage Derek to think about what he'd missed, she said: "Forfeit! 
You got to give me a forfeit!"

"Okay, what," growled her erstwhile boyfriend.

"Same as Johnny's that you had him pay," she said, and called Sylvia up 
off the floor to help her. Standing the red-faced boy where the others 
could clearly see him, the two girls stripped his Bermudas down his 
legs to reveal he was smoother of skin even than Johnny'd been. His 
prick and balls were pink and hairless, Maryon saw, and hung down 
together completely lax. Instead of having him on hands and knees like 
Johnny, Karen posed him in the position she'd been in, bent-legged and 
with his plump smooth melons stuck defenselessly out, hands on his 
thighs. Sylvia thoughtfully spread his feet apart so that it was 
difficult for him to clench himself, and then Karen, standing beside 
him, really laid into him with a power and a passion that frightened 
Maryon just a little bit. The green-blue eyes slitted and the jet-black 
ponytail jerked like a small whip as the white-skinned girl spanked his 
bare ass as hard as she could, setting his flesh to quivering with the 
impact. In no time at all he was pink, and another half-dozen cracking 
blows inflamed him to a redness that matched that of his furious face. 
For Derek was in no way enjoying this punishment.

Curiously Maryon felt somehow stimulated by the sight of the naked 
couple in their tableau vivant, and as she imagined the feel of that 
flat, smarting, swinging hand on her own chubby rear she shifted 
herself on Johnny's thighs, increasing the pressure and clutching 
rhythm on the boy's now hot and hard red rod. Her mouth was dry as she 
stared at the scene. So entranced was she by it that she hardly noticed 
when Johnny slid a heavy hand along her leg and began to caress her 
moist pink cunt, and how her own thighs slid apart to accommodate his 
busy fingers.

But when, finally, Karen stopped her smacks and, in one quick movement 
bent her head and sank her teeth briefly into Derek's tender and hand-
expectant rear end, Maryon's circling little fingers clamped so hard 
around Johnny's rampant cock that he jumped and all but threw her off.

Derek jumped forward and, cautiously feeling the place where Karen's 
white teeth had chomped him, but without breaking the skin, demanded: 
"What the fuck did you do that for!?"

"Oh ... seemed like a good idea at the time," was her soft reply. But 
although she acted casually, Maryon noticed that now her hard little 
nipples stood out from her like nails, and that she pressed her legs 
together from ankle to crotch, swaying them as though she was impatient 
to take a piss. Bright patches of pink lit her cheekbones and her eyes 
were hot looking and moist as she turned to Colin.

"Dare!" he said without being asked.

Karen was obviously excited now, her hips swaying, her pointed red 
tongue wetly running over her lips, her weight going from one leg to 
the other, bent forward a little at the waist. "I dare you to prove 
that you've a bigger thing than Johnny's and Derek's," she said, 
without even pretending to think.

Colin didn't look at all surprised, but merely raised one eyebrow. He 
almost looked pleased, at last, in contrast to the embarrassed or 
annoyed expressions the other two had put on when they'd been forced to 
strip.

As casually as if he were going to take a shower, the tall English boy 
unzipped his faded pants, let them drop to his ankles, and stepped out 
of them, kicking them toward the pile. He strode straight up toward 
Karen, a mocking light in his eyes, took her hand, and placed it fair 
and square on his half-aroused prick.

Maryon drew in a deep breath. Of them all, he most was like Michael. A 
soft golden down surrounded him and, as he stood, deliberately, in a 
shaft of sunlight, it almost looked as though there was an aura about 
him, a kind of yellow halo. "I suppose you want a proper comparison?" 
he asked calmly, in charge of the situation. "Derek, Johnny, get your 
Yankee asses over here and let the girls see your stuff. And Sylvia, 
Maryon, you'd better come and help Karen to judge."

Karen had let go of him and stepped back, as though content to let him 
run things. When the three boys stood there, only Johnny had a complete 
hard-on, and Colin winked at Maryon as she came over to them. "Looks 
like you've got an unfair advantage, Johnny," he said. "You three birds 
better do something to us to, uh, get us started. For a kick-off, maybe 
another look at your jolly old quims'll do it. Your little jam-holes, 
your cunts, luvs," he added when they looked blank. "Don't you birds 
know what a quim is? Also called a fanny, back in England, not the same 
as your fanny, your backsides. Well, anyway, let's get on with it, eh? 
I reckon you two'll want your fellers to do their best and try and win, 
eh ... so, hop to it. You're lucky, Sylvia ... old Johnny's quivering 
at the post already. I'll just have this little luscious lollypop, 
young Maryon Alysun, work her wicked will with me."

Maryon stood before him, not quite sure what was expected of her, 
watching from the corner of her eye as Sylvia leaned her lush naked 
self against Johnny, throwing her arms about him and hugging him so 
that his cock stood up like a ramrod between their tolling, writhing 
bodies, and Karen, with lowered lashes, began to stroke Derek's slowly 
rising staff with one hand, the other gently smoothing his still pink 
buttocks, murmuring softly to him the while.

"Tell you how well do it, luv," whispered Colin, bending his head. 
"We'll have another of those beautiful kisses of yours, eh? Only this 
time well have you up here ... like this!" And as he spoke he reached 
down to put a hand on each of her thighs, lifted them to ride the 
blouse up over her belly, gripped her waist and, with easy effort, 
picked her up and held her against him so that, as he let her slip a 
bit, her belly plumped against his. Holding her with one hand as she 
contentedly rested there, with the other he parted her thighs and 
fingered himself until his soft tanned meat was between them. And then 
he kissed her as he had before, only this time, with nothing between 
them, and his questing hand cupping and fondling her unstraining 
nakedly exposed ass, it was so much better, so much more exciting, so 
trembling wickedly cunt-clenchingly quim-twinklingly fine and feverish 
that she let herself sink into a sickish, faintish dream in which 
nothing existed except the feel of his stiffening long cock between her 
legs, and of his probing finger into her tiny tight asshole, and of his 
dominating tongue swelling into her open, eager mouth so that she could 
hardly breathe. Her own small hands wandered like soft, mindless 
animals over His chest and sides, and her legs instinctively tried to 
come together to trap him, and moved up and down to roll him between 
their hot, moist velvet insides. She wriggled, and writhed again, 
secretly wanting to have his cock inside her, though she wasn't sure 
what would happen then, and her whole sensitive groin sheerly ached for 
the void to be filled.

But Colin, it seemed, was much more intent on having his own pleasure 
satisfied than in worrying about hers, and after far too short of time 
he set her down, letting her weakly, blindly stagger off till she fell 
to the ground as he spread his legs, thrust out his belly, and pointed 
to his thick, long, pale-brown prick, which jerked spasmodically with 
its want.

Poor Maryon hardly cared as the other two girls, no less excited than 
she, no doubt, but far more used to keeping some semblance of cool, 
visually and physically compared the three proud upthrusts of manhood 
and declared Colin the winner.

Trying to hide her feelings, her inflamed mind seeing more than her 
eyes, she was but half aware of Sylvia 'Promising' that soon--not now!-
-she would go all the way with Johnny, but she'd calmed down a bit in 
time to be startled by Karen's Dare to Johnny that he dress up in some 
of Maryon's things and act like a girl for her!

Her little fist stuffed hard against her pubic mound beneath the 
concealing blouse, Maryon watched in amazement as the boy, grinning and 
acting the clown, stepped into her skirt, belted it clumsily about him, 
slipped her jacket with difficulty onto his broader shoulders, and put 
the hat on his head. He was a bit more bashful when Karen ordered him 
to slide the skimpy brown panties up his bony legs, but he nevertheless 
complied.

"Okay?" he asked, grinning, standing in front of Karen and swaying his 
hips in a mockery of feminine ways. But his expression changed to one 
of indignation when, at a nod from Karen, the lissome Sylvia hipped her 
way across to him and began to touch him up, running her slender hands 
up and down his legs under the skirt and fondling his butt, playing 
with his hard boy's nipple and, finally, thrusting her hand into the 
hidden panties and tormenting him until he didn't know which way to 
look. When Sylvia presently, amid giggles and laughter from the others, 
tugged the panties down about his knees, Maryon could see a darker wet 
spot among the folds.

"Just a taste of your own medicine, sweetheart," said Sylvia, kissing 
him with exaggerated passion, her hand still busy on him under the 
brown skirt. When she stepped away the cloth stood out from him, 
hanging, like a flag on a pole, and even Maryon could see that was 
funny.

Now she realized that it was her turn again, last of all, and wondered 
what new grown-up-like thing they would think of next. She hoped it 
would be something exciting, like a lot of the other things that she'd 
enjoyed. And, for once, her wish came true.

When Karen, flaunting her black-haired nudity, stood before her and 
asked her choice, she shrugged her young shoulders and said: "Truth!" 
It didn't seem to make much difference what one said in this peculiar 
but oh-so-pleasant game--it always managed to come out the same sort of 
way.

Karen winked at her. "All right, Maryon, since this is the last one 
we'll do, I suppose, I'll make it special, and something for all of 
us."

"Hey, don't forget she's still got that other Dare to do for me," 
called Sylvia, who was encouraging Johnny to stroke her bumptious 
little breasts while fumbling under his shirt with her fond fingers as 
they lay back against the ladder.

"Yeah, okay," said Karen, then put her hands on her hips and looked 
Maryon in the eye. "The question is, is it true that you've enjoyed 
yourself so far today; and is it true you'll let us all enjoy ourselves 
by doing what I say?"

Maryon nodded her head energetically, her golden braids swinging behind 
her. "Yes, Karen, this is fun. And I'll do anything to make you all 
happy!"

"Karen, can I do this one?" asked Colin from the shadows, and stepped 
forward. After a quick, bidden look at him, the nude white-skinned girl 
shrugged, setting her slim breasts to shaking like creamy Jell-O. Colin 
went over to the bale of hay and stretched himself back on it, feet and 
head dangling. "Righto, now come over here, Maryon, and we'll work 
something out for them all, eh?"

Obediently she got to her feet and squatted near his head to listen 
carefully as he gave her his instructions.

So it was that presently she found herself sitting on his firm flat 
gold-tanned stomach, facing his feet, with her thighs parted as wide as 
she could get them, straddling his with her knees. Behind her, she 
knew, Sylvia lay stretched out face down on top of her cousin, her soft 
ass up against her own, and with Colin's hand jammed, palm up, between 
them. The English boy's championship prick stood proud and hard as she 
nestled her cunt in its fork, and it was sandwiched against her thin 
belly by Karen's as the ponytailed girl stood facing her between 
Colin's parted thighs, with his knees up and his heels jammed back 
against the edge of the hay-bale. Strange hands were up under her 
blouse, teasing her little nipples, and her own face was buried against 
her friend's shallow breasts, her lips moving from one to the other. In 
each hand she held a smaller cock, one Derek's, the other Johnny's 
thinner shaft, and above her own she could feel Karen's warm and 
pulsing palms. The two boys, she knew, had one hand each on her budding 
breasts, and the other on Karen-she could tell each time the girl's 
asshole was fingered, or her flanks stroked, by the excited twists and 
thrusts of the hard black-matted pelvis separated from her own seeking 
quim only by the mashed magnificence of Colin's throbbing prick.

Her senses were imbued by the sweet smells of sweat and oil, and the 
hot fetid crush of palpitating flesh. And every time that Colin, by 
accident or design, let his hand slide between his belly and Sylvia's 
writhing hips to quiver a finger so deliciously into and under the 
crack of her rosy plump ass's cheeks, she involuntarily jerked and 
increased the loving movements of her busy hands and mouth and 
twitching crotch until she thought she'd faint for real. There was no 
sound in her singing ears save the heavy quick pulse-beat of her blood, 
the moans and grunts and heavy breathing of the others, and her own 
husky childish words. "Fuck. Cunt. Fuck. Quim. Fuck. Prick ... fuck ... 
cunt ... fuck ... quim ... Prick ... cock ... cunt, oh! --cunt--fuck--
cunt--fuck--cunt--fuckunt--fucquim--fuckunt--quim--fuckunt--cock--
fuckunt--cockfuckunt ... cockfuckunt ... cockfuckunt ... cokfuckunt; 
Ooooohooooohoooohoooohoooohoooohooooh!!! Oh fuck oh cunt oh cock oh-
fuck oh cunt oh fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK!" until in 
frenzied, unrequited unsatisfied frustrated lust for letting blow the 
bomb whose fuse she'd set she hungrily chewed on Karen's soft breasts 
and rolled the hard spiky nipples between her teeth and jerked like a 
milkshaker with her hands at the hot and throbbing heaving stalks of 
flesh in them and lifted herself wetly on and off the boiling bellied 
boy beneath her, and reached for his soaring golden prick with her 
questing quim and felt Sylvia begin to buck and jerk against her 
buttocks, and sobbed brokenly at the pain in her titties as the boys 
unmindfully pinched them and then ... then ... as it'd never happened 
with Mike, something seemed to break deep inside her and a hot, peppery 
flow scoured the soft and tender pink walls of her secret cuntish 
cavern and gold and red and orange shapes pressed upon her eyeballs and 
the cheeks of her ass spread and she farted and on her belly a hot 
fountain spent itself and Karen's arms came around her thin-clad 
shoulders and pressed her closer into the warm silk bags of her breasts 
and the wet nipples in her mouth went in and out like snails' eyes and 
liquid warmth dripped down upon her hands until they were slick in 
their rapid strokings and Sylvia banged up and down against her back 
and all about her were moans and groans of ecstasy and a whiteness 
flashed over her and the singing in her noise rose to an unbearable 
pitch, and she collapsed backward onto the bucking uncaring butt of the 
shuddering, snorting girl behind her and felt Karen lean, following, 
over her to clasp her in a vibrant embrace ... and her hands fell limp 
and lax from the gulping, spitting cocks ... and someone's knuckles 
ground into her aching, exhausted groin ... and a mouth bit at her 
nipple, and something seemed to whip fleetingly at the other, and she 
whispered: "Oh-fuck-cunt-cock-fuck ..." and knew no more.



Twelve Years Old


Mike hadn't much relished the chore of walking Maryon to the Matherly 
place for her 'pajama party' with Karen and Sylvia, but Burt was 
working overtime, again, and the family car was in the shop, and the 
streets of suburbia weren't so safe as they used to be, and Sylvia's 
parents weren't available to send a car, so okay, already, Mike would 
walk his sister to the estate and see she got there safely. He didn't 
have much else to do, anyway, the school's pool was being cleaned and 
there was no chance for him to practice his swimming, a sport he was 
expected to do well in at the Regionals, come spring.

He brightened up a bit as, walking up the long driveway, Maryon told 
him of the Matherly's pool, but didn't know whether he wanted to mess 
around with a bunch of kids. From his lordly seventeen years he told 
Maryon that his practice was a serious thing ... he couldn't fool 
around with his length by length steady practicing in the middle of a 
mob of screaming yahoos ... especially girl yahoos. In any case, he 
hadn't brought his trunks ... why hadn't Maryon mentioned the pool 
before they left home?

His somewhat sour mood was not improved when he discovered Johnny and 
Derek were at the house--it was a little after seven in the evening--
and seemed set on staying around for a while. It was Maryon herself, 
wishing to make up to him, who brought up the subject of his swimming, 
and Sylvia and Karen delightedly invited and urged him to go ahead and 
use the pool--no charge, they'd like to see him in action--maybe one 
day Sylvia could say an Olympic championed practiced in her pool! 
Flattered by their blandishments, Mike agreed at least to consider it, 
and they all wandered out of the large dining room, across the terrace, 
and down to the poolside. The sun was getting low and there was a 
slight chill in the air but the pool was heated, so another one of 
Mike's objections was overcome. And the clear blue water did look 
tempting. Swimming trunks? Well, said Sylvia, her dad's would be too 
big for him, but maybe--and she smiled slyly--a pair of her bottoms 
would do?

In the past year Sylvia had filled out pretty well, and even in her 
light skirt they could see she was almost as big about the hips as 
Mike, despite the three years difference in their ages. Okay, that 
might do, agreed Mike, a bit reluctantly, and they waited as she went 
off into the house to fetch the thing.

Perhaps because of the older boy's presence the others were more 
subdued than usual. Maryon had been up to the house a few times since 
that time in the barn, but never again had things been quite so 
interesting. Always Sylvia's parents or the servants were about the 
place. And for some reason the group didn't seem to get together too 
often otherwise, and more often than not Maryon was not invited along 
when they went elsewhere for their fun and games, so that quite often 
she suffered the pangs of being 'left out of it.' And though Lois often 
pushed her to invite the daughter of the socially prominent Matherlys 
home, Maryon knew that it would not do either herself or her mother any 
good ...

"Here, Mike, I've left it on the couch in the dining room," called 
Sylvia from the terrace, and came bouncing down the steps toward them. 
"You can change there, okay?"

Mike was already trotting up and was out of sight by the time Sylvia 
came up and sat on the end of the diving board near the others. "I'd 
kind of like to go in myself," she said, "but I don't have anything to 
wear, now."

"Oh, Mike doesn't like having anyone in the pool when he's practicing," 
said Maryon, and the other girl shrugged.

"It's my pool," she said.

Karen and the two boys were horseplaying near the edge, the girl being 
threatened with a dunking for something she'd said. Johnny had her 
wrists and Derek her feet, swinging her out over the water, and her 
wrigglings in the air had slid her dress down over her thighs so that 
Maryon could see the brief green panties that cut into her crotch. The 
boys wore smart black jeans and white shirts, though Derek bulked a 
little larger. One of the black-haired girl's white shoes flew off into 
the pool. "Oh you bastard, Derek!" she said between laughing screams, 
and they might indeed have thrown her, clothes and all, into the depths 
had not Michael then appeared, running rapidly down the steps. In the 
brief glimpse she caught of him before he reached the poolside and 
dived, Maryon saw that Sylvia's 'bottom' was no more than a brief black 
bikini, giving her brother a half-inch band about his upper thighs. 
Then he was gone from view and the other two boys, setting Karen down, 
stood watching as his blond head presently broke the surface.

He was probably embarrassed about the scantiness of the girl's bikini 
on him, Maryon supposed, glad in the slight chill that she wore trim 
cream slacks and blouse though, like the rest of them, she was 
barefoot.

Studiously Mike began to swim, head down into the water, arms steadily 
threshing, legs smoothly kicking. His tawny body looked like a 
magnificent machine as it ploughed through the water, though the skimpy 
black band over his buttocks did look a bit ridiculous. Only once did 
he interrupt his rhythm, pausing to throw back onto the cement Karen's 
floating sandal at her call as she sat, dangling her legs.

After a while it grew boring to watch his strong, muscled frame glide 
endlessly along, and Sylvia drummed her heels against the diving board. 
Then a smile lit her face. "Get ready when I say the word," she 
whispered to Maryon, then ran along to speak in hushed tones to the 
other three. When Mike reached the shallow end of the pool she called 
out to him and, hearing her, he got to his feet, shaking his head free 
of water. The tight black bikini barely held him in, and Maryon could 
see the gaps at the tops of his thighs where his firm young flesh 
pushed against the thin material.

"What's up?" he asked, apparently not too pleased to be interrupted.

"We've got a bet going here, Mike, that you can't do a full length 
underwater, only using your feet," said Sylvia. "They say it can't be 
done."

Mike considered. "Well, with a bit of a push off at the start, I reckon 
I can do it," he said. "Just watch me."

And he bent his head, crouched low, struck back with his feet at the 
underwater wall, and kicked himself smoothly forward, hands held out 
and head down. Immediately he was out of hearing Sylvia cried: "Now!" 
and to Maryon's astonishment the four began expertly to strip, 
discarding their various clothes as they made their way to where she 
was sitting. "Skinny-dip time--we'll surprise him," shouted Karen, 
shrugging out of her dress.

"C'mon kid, off and in," said Derek, tugging down his pants, and before 
she quite knew what was going on around her, Maryon was alone on the 
diving board, fingers to her blouse, while the others were sliding 
smoothly and silently into the clear blue water, totally naked except 
for Karen, who for some reason had kept her narrow green nylon panties 
on.

As they lined themselves up with their backs to the wall, their feet 
kicking gently, arms outstretched along the gutter, Sylvia called up 
and back, impatiently: "Oh, hurry up, Maryon, come in and surprise your 
brother."

All kinds of thoughts were going through Maryon's head ... what Mike 
would think ... what fun it'd be ... why not if the others did? ... she 
wouldn't be in the water in time ... what would happen afterward? But 
her body seemed to have made her mind up for her so that even as she 
saw Mike's head but a scant eight feet or so from the end of the pool, 
her blouse and bra were on the Found at her feet and her fingers were 
fumbling with the buckle of her slacks. All of a sudden Mike seemed to 
convulse. Whether he'd just run out of air after his more than a 
minute's submersion, or whether it was the shocking sight of four pairs 
of legs dangling before him, he surfaced in a spluttering hurry, 
beating at the water with his hands, eyes closed and streams pouring 
from his blond hair. Maryon froze where she was, her pants unzipped and 
part pulled down her thighs, her young breasts hanging out and forward. 
There seemed to her questioning mind to be quite a difference between 
being naked in the water and caught like this, alone, out in the 
evening daylight. So it was that when Mike got his breath back and 
opened his eyes it was only to lose it again and close them again at 
sight of four heads grinning at him above the water line, four female 
breasts seemingly free-floating just below the surface and, above them 
all, his kid sister, half-nude like a nymph startled at her bath, the 
pink rays of the setting sun giving her nubile body a rosy hue and 
putting an ash-ember glow in the dull gold of her long hair.

"What are you guys doing?" he said when he'd recovered again, treading 
water, his eyes intent on Sylvia's flaunted breasts as she half-pulled 
herself from the pool. Maryon slowly slipped her pants down her legs, 
as though trying not to attract her brother's attention. But as she 
could see Sylvia deliberately kicking her legs out, one at a time, so 
that the brown tuft between them winked at the older boy, she knew she 
didn't have to worry about that.

"We thought we'd give you a surprise. And you've got my bikini. And I 
wasn't going to be the only bare-assed one," laughed the girl, kicking 
water at his face.

He seemed quickly to recover himself for, nodding his head toward 
Karen, but keeping his eyes on the bouys Sylvia floated in front of 
her, with their red markers, he said: "What's so special about her, 
that she gets not to be bare-assed?"

Somehow the other three in the water hadn't noticed Karen's green 
panties before, but now the two boys, with a whoop! simultaneously 
reached down at her like a pale white fish Karen pushed off from the 
wall and away from them, so that Maryon, looking down from above, could 
see the lithe, free movements of her body in the pale blue water. In a 
flash she was around and past Mike and was headed for the far end of 
the pool but he, bucking up his near-bare butt and jack-knifing so that 
his sister could clearly see the shadowed crack in it, dived down and 
under the fleeing girl. Taking advantage of the distraction Maryon 
quickly completed her disrobing and slipped into the water. Sylvia and 
the boys had also gone in pursuit of the pair and stood up, waist deep, 
just as Mike managed to slip under Karen and rise up in front of her, 
the water to their knees. The white-skinned girl, untanned by the sun 
and slim as an ivory figurine, tried to escape him but his longer legs 
were more suited to water-running in his strength and he easily caught 
her, holding her just above the elbows as she, kicking, tried to keep 
the others off. While Maryon watched from her end of the pool, feeling 
the warm water wash between her thighs, Johnny and Derek each seized a 
fighting ankle and the three boys lifted Karen completely from the 
water, her long black hair streaming down from her in a dark mass that 
was in complete contrast to the whiteness of her struggling body as she 
arched and bent it, writhing, her pale oval breasts silhouetted against 
the pale blue of the evening sky.

Beneath her brother's brief black bikinis she could see him bulging as 
his eyes no doubt feasted on the sight of the young girl's twisting 
body held so close to him. And as the nude Sylvia, jumping up and down 
with excitement, her breasts bobbing, reached for the green nylon 
panties and tugged them down the flexing thighs, she was sure he was 
setting a hard-on. And now they could all see why Karen had so slyly 
kept herself covered, for, whereas in the past she had sported a great 
black mat of hair at her crotch, now she was shaved-clean, so that the 
cold wet pale lips of her cunt stared starkly upward, as bare of 
concealment as an oyster on the half-shell.

"Why, Karen!" exclaimed Sylvia, slipping the strip of nylon down to the 
suddenly quiescent ankles. "What happened ... crabs?"

"No," Maryon barely heard the other girl say, "just that it was so ... 
so ugly down there."

With a laugh Mike gathered her up in his arms, pulling her free so that 
Sylvia could pull the panties free, then, flexing his strong biceps so 
that they gleamed fitfully in the falling light, he lofted the naked 
Karen far into the air so that she fell, twisting, with a great splash 
beyond the others.

The others now were after Mike to take his bikini off, but he refused, 
on the grounds that he was older, bigger, stronger, and didn't want to. 
Meanwhile Karen swam up beside Maryon. "The bastards!" she said, 
pushing the long black wet hair back from her oval face. Maryon was 
fascinated by the sight of the girl's weirdly clean crotch ... it made 
her seem so much more naked, somehow. Idly she scratched her own well 
tufted mound, and mentally compared her boobs to Karen's. In the past 
year, though the older girl had grown taller and had more flesh on her, 
and still seemed oddly boyish with slim waist, slender hips, a smooth 
ass, heir breasts had changed not a bit, save perhaps to become a bit 
firmer. They still gleamed like silken bass, and their cores, now hard 
from the exposure and the cooling night air, were still dark and small 
and pointed, but Maryon knew she was bigger there, with clearly defined 
little pears that hung loosely from her but could be held up from below 
to fill out most satisfyingly.

Though, she ruefully thought, only she was far satisfied, for nobody 
had seen them in months! certainly not any males, and especially not 
Mike, whose companionship this evening was a rare exception to his 
usual coolness toward her now that he was in Senior High and presumably 
could have his fill of girls. Maryon was jealous, and suddenly decided 
to do something about it. She'd show him that just because Sylvia and 
Karen were older and bigger didn't mean they could please him most!

Without a word to Karen she kicked herself off from the side and, 
taking care that her plump bare rump was constantly above the surface, 
swam casually up the length of the pool, past the others, who were 
still squabbling, then began to circle them. From the comer of her eye 
she saw that her maneuver had not gone unnoticed by Mike, for his head 
followed her. In a moment she let her feet down and stood up and, 
feigning water in her eyes, stretched and posed wantonly in the shallow 
end, knowing, as she knuckled her eyes, that her breasts had been set 
to jiggling and that her out-thrust hip revealed between her slim young 
naked thighs a sight of rosy lips only lightly veiled by her soaking 
pubic hair. She felt her nipples harden and shivered as she pressed her 
elbows back and shook her head vigorously, curving her body back like a 
sensual cat.

When at last she opened her eyes she thought she noticed a look of 
curiosity on Sylvia's face as the older girl glanced from Michael's 
riveted gaze to her own body, the focus of his attention, but 
immediately it was gone and instead the big-busted girl grabbed 
Johnny's hand and pulled him to the side of the pool.

"Brrhhh! I'm getting cold," she said, clambering out with a wonderful 
display of her well-muscled ass and the lewd lips beneath it. "I'm 
going in to dry ... who's coming?" With Johnny close behind, she ran to 
the deep end of the pool, said something softly and quickly to Karen, 
scooped up an armful of clothes indiscriminately, and raced up the 
steps to the terrace and so into the house. Close behind her the two 
naked boys and Karen, pausing to pick up the remainder of the clothes, 
displayed their bouncing bare butts like rabbits in the twilight.

"Well ... come on, Sis," said Michael, turning toward her.

She pouted at him, wriggling her nude little body in a manner she knew 
to be enticing, looking under lowered lashes at the tight bulge coiled 
fleshily against the strained thin black band of his borrowed bikini 
bottom. "Little sister'd like to be carried," she said, affecting a 
childish tone. "Little sister sooooooooooo tired ..." And, stretching 
one twisting hand above her back-bent head, she put the back of the 
other to her mouth, extravagantly yawning, but also fully aware that 
her thighs yawned for him, too.

"Little brat ... I'll drown you," he said, coming through the water. 
But instead of upsetting her he obediently went along with her game, 
picking her up boldly in his arms and then, as an afterthought, 
swinging her up and around until she was seated joltingly but firmly on 
his shoulders, her slim thighs pressed against his cheeks, his hands 
holding hers.

As he climbed out of the pool by the steps, balancing her securely, 
Maryon thrilled at the contact of the short, already dry, bristly hairs 
at the back of his neck against her eager, unprotected cunt.

At the doorway into the room he hesitated but, ducking her head under 
the lintel and kicking with her heels, she urged him on and in. He 
stood for a second in the middle of the floor. "Where the fuck are my 
clothes? I left 'em on the couch over there," he said to the empty 
room, dripping spots of water onto the rich rug. Just then there was a 
pattering on the stairs and Sylvia stuck her head discreetly over the 
balustrade, turbaned in a towel.

"Come on up and grab a room ... first at the top of the stairs, on the 
left," she said. "There's a bathroom there, and you can dry off. Your 
gear's on the bed. We'll see you later ... much later!" The emphasis 
was unmistakable as she winked, turned and, bobbing her tail like a 
bunny, sped away back.

Shrugging, adjusting Maryon's weight on him and incidentally sending a 
flashing warm pulse through her, Mike trotted up the stairs, made for 
the open bedroom door and, once inside, dumped Maryon unceremoniously 
onto the made bed. Quickly he thumblocked the door behind him. "I don't 
need them to play any more of their little surprises on me!" he said, 
coming over to the bed and staring down at his naked sister who, 
growing excited by the possibilities, was lying on the counterpane on 
her stomach as though posing for her first baby-picture. Mike nodded to 
the open bathroom door and began idly picking at the clothes thrown in 
a pile at the foot of the bed. "You want to shower first?" he asked. 
She smiled at him impishly.

"We could take a bath together," she said. "That'd save some time, 
wouldn't it, Mike? I mean ... you do want to get out of here and go 
home soon, don't you?"

"You're a little bitch-baby, aren't you?" he replied, coming to stand 
in front of her. "Okay, I'm set, if you're sure you are." Maryon was 
about set for anything. She'd started her periods some months ago, and 
was a couple of weeks past the most recent so, though Lois had made a 
faltering, unclear and generally unsatisfying explanation of what 
menstruation was all about, she reckoned that nothing could upset her 
plans to enjoy herself and her brother in the way she liked ... and 
hoped he still did.

"Go start the water, Mike" she said and, when he was on his way, slid 
off the bed and quickly resmoothed it, clucking her tongue at the water 
spots she'd made on it. Then she pattered into the bathroom on tiptoe. 
Mike was leaning over the tub, sloshing the water about with his hand 
so, without further ado, she grabbed at the narrow black band of his 
bikini and pulled so that the hard, muscled globes of his buttocks 
sprang into view like surprised moons. "Hey ...!" he began, but stopped 
as she next ran her small hands round his hips to his belly, under the 
thin material, easing it off him with her wrists, until she was able to 
take hold of his prick. Feeling that it was more soft than hard, Maryon 
let go, took hold of the black bikini again, and pulled them down to 
his ankles. With her head pressed against his side so that she could 
see better, her mouth and eyes formed astonished little 'Os at the size 
of his dick, even in repose.

He turned off the water, stepped out of the pants And stretched 
elaborately. "Jesus, it's great to be out of them," he said. "I felt 
like an idiot."

She touched his cock with a finger. "Why aren't you big for me?" she 
said. "When Sylvia and Karen took their clothes off, you were big ... I 
could tell. Don't you think I'm as good as them?"

"Haven't really looked at you, Sis, it's been a long time," he laughed 
at her. Getting into the steaming water he sat down and stretched his 
long, strong legs. "Let's see what I've been missing," he said, so 
without another word, she climbed up on the side of the tub, put one 
leg over to the top at the far side, then moved up toward him, 
straddling the bath. Not looking at him but intimately aware of the 
brazen nakedness of her body as it was exposed to his gaze, she reached 
to her hair and carefully began to undo the braids, twisting her body 
innocently about as she tugged at her tresses, delighting inwardly at 
the effect her cavorting little cunt must be having on him. And when, 
pretending to nearly lose her balance, she bent and swayed and looked 
down beneath her, sure enough the tip of him was just beginning to 
break surface, though, even through the diffraction of the water, his 
prick was, she saw, still not completely hard.

Presently she shook her hair free, feeling the damp silken ends of it 
play over her taut cheeks. The strain of her straddling stance was 
beginning to give her a most delicious ache in her crotch, and she was 
dying for him to touch her there. But as if realizing her own 
impatience, and using it to heighten his own pleasure, Mike instead 
kept her there, ducking his head and scooting around in the bath so 
that he could now look up at her splitting crack and study the out-
thrust of her young and tender buttocks. "You're filling out pretty 
well, Sis," he said, lightly caressing one steam-pinkened cheek, "but I 
didn't get too good a look at your boobs." Still sitting in the water 
behind her, he had Maryon bend over and touch her toes, so that her 
spritely little twelve-year-old breasts hung down from her in all their 
pear-pointed prettiness then, to her joy, he not only complimented her 
on their fine growth, but, his hair incidentally brushing against her 
parted lips, he leaned forward to fondle and stroke them, finally 
turning around once again so that, with his head back, he could kiss 
them and take them into his mouth like hanging bunches of sweet grapes. 
As his tongue rasped over her tiny, cherry-like nipples, her knees 
shook and she all but slipped and fell on him. "Hold up there, Sis," he 
said, his voice low and hoarse and, reaching up, he took her by her 
slim waist and lifted her down into the water.

Pushing her before him he placed her at the foot of the bath with her 
elbows hung over the rim, her knees bent, and her feet flat on the 
bottom, so that her thighs and stomach were thrown out toward him. 
Pushing her legs wide apart, he gently lowered his head to her until, 
at last, he planted a big wet kiss in her burning crotch. With her head 
thrown back, she drove her lithe young body up against him and clamped 
her thighs about his face, in ecstasy as his tongue found her ready 
slot and slid into it. But she couldn't retain this position for long 
and began to slide down into the water under him until his nose gurgled 
underwater and he had to come up off her.

"A kiss for a kiss!" he wetly murmured, and with his hands under her 
ass turned her about so that in a minute he was lying on his back, with 
his feet stretched out and up over the sides, the rim hooking him 
behind the knees and raising His lower body up out of the water, while 
she was half-kneeling in the water, her thighs resting on his 
shoulders, the whole great wonderment of his now fully erected prick 
available to her eyes, hands and mouth.

As he gently pulled her down until she was clamped over his open mouth 
she, in turn, needing no instructions as to what he wanted, though 
she'd never ventured to be quite so obvious in her compliance before, 
placed one hand under his balls and, squeezing them, let the other play 
gently up and down the fine upstanding length of him. Her long blonde 
hair hung straightly down to either side of her face so that she 
fancied herself in a kind of cavern, veiled not only from his sight but 
his inward sight as well, cut off from all reality except this strong, 
tanned, rubbery bar of flesh with its two round ridged and hairy 
partners ... and the other end of the long, hollow tube which was her 
mouth, at which he munched and chewed and blew and sucked and licked 
like some perpetually unsatiated elephant.

All sense of time and place forgotten, fogged in by the hot steam that 
rose from the water beneath her, flushed by its fetid nearness, Maryon 
dreamily puckered her young rosebud red lips and lowered them down and 
over his already inflamed tip, breathing against the distended hole in 
its center and letting her slim fingers play up and down the blue-
veined length below as though he were a flute and a sinuous serpent 
both, the one fantasy merging into the other and out and back again in 
her head. She let her long narrow tongue complete the circle of her 
lips, washing it about the clean silk dome until she felt it pulse, 
then parted her dainty white teeth and let them scratch lightly against 
his aroused rod as she lowered her head.

Between her legs there was now only a seething cauldron of hot, 
flickering sensation as his own broad tongue forced its way into her 
welcoming vagina and his teeth grated on her fragile-seeming pelvic 
girdle. Forcing her lips and teeth still further apart until her jaw 
began to ache, she strove to take him into her, swallowing at him, 
tasting the saliva that came to lubricate the monstrous morsel and at 
the same time noting a new honey-and-vinegar confection tantalizing her 
palate. With both hands now she tried to cram him into her mouth, 
shivering deliciously as his tip reached the back of her throat and, as 
she stretched her slender neck, ease down into it. Between the fullness 
of her mouth and the closeness of the steaming room, her air supply 
severely limited, Maryon plunged into a feverish state of lovely 
lassitude, fondly fondling her brother's taut and trembling testicles 
and as much of his proud-stanced prick as was left outside her for her 
fingers to gratefully grasp, and gulping and gobbling at the rest of 
it, swallowing at its sensuously strangling tip and licking it with as 
much license as its swollen, pulsating bulkiness would allow.

Sublimely eager to achieve the impossible task of drawing more of his 
beautiful manhood into her, the twisting twelve-year-old raised her 
body from his and thrust out her neck like an angry goose and, perhaps 
as her hard-centered roseate breasts swung sweepingly down along his 
belly, Mike discharged into her, himself flinging his jaws wide and 
chomping into her young and tender treasure-house, letting his 
straining tongue delve for trove there.

His sister shook like a leaf in the breeze as his liberated sperm hosed 
hotly down her throat, and his spasmodic, snaky length of cock swelled 
and throbbed in her mouth. His large hands came up to span her hips and 
press her down on him and then she felt herself burst inside like a 
suddenly and mightily squeezed orange; whose juice was hot and stinging 
as it sluiced into the empty, yearning, air-sucking cavity of her 
virgin, cock-cunctating cunt. She gnawed the air through distended 
nostrils as the center of her body drew drowning breaths from her, her 
flanks heaving in rhythm with the inward draughts of suction. While her 
hungry munching frustrated lower mouth bit down on warm ice cream, the 
melting Mars-bar thrust in her throat became, for her, a compensation, 
and for want of sexual sustenance between her legs she satisfied 
herself by sucking on the sublime substitute that filled her blood-
rushed face until, at last she'd thawaad! its last sour-sweet marrow-
drop and its wilting husk lay on her tiny, tireless tongue, inert and 
lifeless.

Her own juices drained from her jaw-torn, coughing loins and she 
dropped her head half into the cooling water, licking her little lips 
and tasting still the acrid cheesy ripeness of her big brother's 
powerful and pungent cream.

"Guess we'd better get on with our bath, Sis," said Mike, his husky 
voice dimly penetrating the red-slashed pink heaven of her thoughts. 
Consumed by memory, she slowly got off him, delivering a tender kiss to 
his shrunken, relaxed cock as it lay there, laved by the water ...



Thirteen Years Old


Pretty and precocious, Maryon found the following year's Christmas due 
to be dull and unhappy.

It was not because of anything she'd done, or because of her 
increasingly sex-fantasied life's real-world disappointment, though 
sometimes in the secret nights of her 'soul' she would wonder whether 
it might be some 'judgment' on her that things had gotten so screwed 
up. Did her frantic, often frenzied fingerings of herself in the dark 
hours somehow radiate a sort of mood or aura out from her, that 
affected the others in the house? She didn't seriously think so, of 
course. Still, it was queer, the way it had all happened so suddenly 
...

First, quite early in the year, suspicious Lois had at last braced 
herself to personally check on some of Burt's overtime activities, and 
had found him quite truthfully making time--with his office typist, in 
the back seat of a floor-model '64 sedan, demonstrating the exquisite 
ease of his personal synchromesh system, though not without a 
considerable amount of double-clutching, and in the process flooding 
the girl's own carburetor, though using a steady-enough stroke. The 
appearance of Lois' furious face at the window effectively cut his 
ignition, however, though the unseeing underlying girl's motor 
continued to turn over for several seconds.

The result of this discovery was to send Lois to a lawyer, seeking 
divorce, with her trump card the fact that, should she tell Burt's boss 
of his demonstration techniques her future ex would find himself fired 
from a lucrative job. But, of course, the better the job he had, the 
better the alimony prospects, so it was a stand-off of sorts. However, 
the couple had separated with Michael, preparing for college, 
ostensibly staying with his father, though he had a pad of his own, and 
Maryon left with her mother. Lois, taking the whole thing badly, had 
herself started an affair with a sympathetic, bar-met male by the name 
of Jim Harris.

Though Jim was a pretty easy-going man in His middle thirties, not bad 
looking, and with a good job in an Insurance office, the stretched-
nerved Lois was often quarreling with him, usually about nothing of 
importance, and threatening to break up the affair.

And on this second Sunday before Christmas it had happened that way 
again. Jim had promised to drop by and take both his girls out for a 
drive but, earlier, over the phone, Lois had got mad at something she 
imagined he'd said or implied and hung up on him, telling him she'd 
call him ... when she was good and ready. Maryon cringed at the thought 
of spending a day with her mother when the latter was in one of her 
moods, and said she'd go and visit Karen. Lois said that was just fine. 
Because she was going out to spend the day with one of her old 
girlfriends herself--to cry over several mixers of martinis, Maryon 
secretly supposed. But Karen hadn't been in, and so, for the sake of 
peace and quiet, she'd pretended a conversation over the phone with her 
friend in which it was 'arranged' that she'd go over there in a little 
while.

Satisfied that 'her little girl' would be all right, Lois had left and 
Maryon, thankful for a whole full day on her own, prepared to relax and 
enjoy herself, remembering vaguely at the back of her mind that other 
day just before Christmas, three years ago!

After listening for a while on her record-player to a new group called 
the Beatles, she began to get restless and bored. Suddenly she realized 
that this would be a good time to see what she would look like, 'grown-
up'. The house was hers for the day, and if there were visitors or 
phone calls she just wouldn't answer. Making sure that the back and 
front doors were securely locked, she turned off the record-player in 
her room and, feeling excited, slipped out of her 'round-home' dress, 
her bra and her panties, grabbing up a robe, just in case, as she went 
along the corridor to her mother's room.

As was usual lately, Lois' clothes were strewn everywhere about the 
place, as though the imminent lifting of the bonds of matrimony had 
also freed her from the restrictions of neatness, appearances, and 
other lower-middle-class importances. Dropping her own robe as 
carelessly to the floor, Maryon switched on the special light above the 
full-length mirror of the dressing table and admired the way in which 
her body had filled out lately. Her breasts were full and ripe and 
lush, as big, at least, as Sylvia's had been last year. And she was 
only thirteen yet! Her waist was as narrow as ever but her hips had a 
new and more subtle roundness to them, with lean bones quickly becoming 
submerged into fair and creamy hills. The hummock at her crotch stuck 
out boldly, firm to her fingers as she parted the bright gold curls of 
pubic hair to let it be seen by her in the starkly illuminating mirror. 
Posing coltishly the while, shifting from one leg to the other, raising 
a knee to show off to herself the excellent, fashionably slender length 
of her legs, thrusting her pink-tipped, well-separated and high-hanging 
breasts out toward her mirror-image as if she hoped that other might 
reach out and fondle them, Maryon shook her long blonde hair free from 
its hasty knot and, reaching for a rubber band, put it into a ponytail. 
Caught by some memory of a Roman siren, seen on the TV, she sought 
around until she found a length of thin white cord and with it bound 
the hair nearest her scalp into a seven-inch-long whip stock from which 
the rest of her shining silk flaunted yellowly down in a true tail that 
flicked her well-pronounced milky mounds of ass each time she shook her 
head.

For a while she disported herself by lashing at herself with her hair, 
thrilling as it slid quickly across her breasts when she leaned back, 
and drew exhileratingly up between her thighs when she bent forward 
then slowly straightened her body. But this was wasting time, however 
secretly delightful it was. Deftly running through the heaps of 
scattered clothes, remembering to remember more or less where 
everything was so that she could obliterate any traces of her 
clandestine visit, the nude nymph shortly had gathered what she wanted 
for the moment. Lois didn't allow her to wear much else but the school 
uniform and what Maryon considered to be 'kid's clothes'--jeans, 
shorts, sweaters, simple, discreet frocks and skirts and blouses. Why, 
she suddenly realized, looking at her collected booty, she'd never worn 
stockings in her life!

Lois and Maryon were now of a size, though it was obvious that the girl 
would shortly out-top and -bust and -hip her mother, so there was 
little fear of her repeating the comic (as she now remembered it) 
masquerade of that other time-before-Christmas.

Stockings being paramount on her mind, she pulled a pair of dark-toned 
nylons on first, standing in front of the mirror while she smoothed the 
cool, electric stuff up over her legs, carefully matching the darker 
rings of their tops against each other as they all but bracketed her 
gold-coiled cunt, riding high on her thighs. Next, a garter-belt--a 
brief black net nylon thing was conveniently to hand and, wriggling her 
hips so that her full breasts bounced loosely and independently upon 
her, she got the thing about her waist and, impatiently, fingered its 
clasps so that when she stood up straight again and looked in the glass 
at herself the dark stocking-tops formed perfect crescents in the 
center of her satiny thighs and, at the back, fitted comfortably up 
under the slight curved overhang of her cheeks, the straps framing most 
sexily (she thought) the cleverly concealed cleft at the front and the 
boisterous, saucy billow-walled separation at the back.

A pair of bright blue high-heeled shoes next caught her fancy and, as 
soon as she stepped into them she realized why women often preferred to 
wear them. The heels threw her body forward so that she felt a 
delicious tenseness along the fronts of her thighs and down the length 
of her stomach. In the mirror she could see how her breasts and butt 
were given extra prominence by this new posture and, when she began 
awkwardly to walk about, her hips rolled and her whole pelvic structure 
seemed to be floating in thick oil, constantly pushing her quim out and 
up so that she could feel the pleasurable tremors begin to work back 
into her from its pretty prancing. Eagerly now she stepped the into 
shoes' matching dress, shivering with delight as the bright blue nylon 
slithered up over her stockinged legs. Not wanting to bother for the 
moment with panties and bra, content to view the outward took, she 
thrust her arms into the sleeveless armholes, settled her breasts 
comfortably into the twin scoops of material that bracketed the low V-
neckline, fitted the high, embroidered-banded waistline against her 
slim rib-cage, and with difficulty zipped up the back of the thing to 
where its top, in a lower-cut V, notched halfway down her spine. The 
dress was a trifle tight about bust and hips, but that only added to 
the delectable image she presented to herself in the mirror. The skirt 
was very full and, when at rest, just covered her knees ... but when 
she twirled her hips the bright-blue stuff shirred and flayed high 
about her thighs.

For a few minutes she amused herself by running her hands slowly, 
tenderly up her legs, watching in the mirror as the dress rose higher 
until at last it formed a bright blue curtain draped enticingly each 
side of her yellow-curled cunt, and she parted her labial lips with the 
forefinger of each hand, letting her thumbs play with her clitoris 
until she could see her nipples harden through the nylon and feet the 
desire to becream herself flush and excite her craving cavity. But she 
stopped herself from loosing her load too soon, wanting to prolong the 
shivery ecstasy until the last possible moment. She let the dress drop 
to her knees and began to caress her whole body through the thin nylon, 
her eyes half-closed as she imagined other hands touching her here, 
there, sliding, stroking, kneading. And all the while she moved herself 
beneath the material so that its electrifying contact would upbrush the 
fine hairs on her body and sustain the sweet tingling that imbued her. 
She slid her hand into the neck of the dress, fondling one sensitive 
breast, wandering what it was like to have another perform on her, 
thus, and thus and thus! while she just relaxed and enjoyed the 
sensation ...

When she was about ready to explode another sound suddenly overlapped 
her heavy breathing. The door-buzzer! Someone was out there! Who? Not 
her mother, for Lois had a key.

Careful not to make a noise, thrilling anew at the touch of the dress 
on her bare skin, feeling especially excited at the knowledge she wore 
nothing under it, making sure she wouldn't trip in the high heels, 
Maryon crept down the passage, through the living room, and across to 
the front door. Through the peephole she saw the magnified image of ... 
Jim! What could he want? He wasn't supposed to be here? Caution flung 
to the winds, keyed up and already excited, Maryon opened the door a 
crack and stuck her head around it, her long, fancy blonde ponytail 
dangling.

"Jim? Mother's out for the day. She's mad at you. What are you doing 
here?"

It was evident, even to her, that he'd hit a few bars on his way over, 
for his face was flushed and His eyes mindfully solemn. With a nod he 
indicated the two packages he carried. "Came to make up. Brought some 
presents, too. Got something for you ... ain't you going' to let a man 
in?"

A present for her!? Well, why not let him in. Lois would get over her 
mood, eventually. And Jim paid so little attention to Maryon, that he 
wouldn't now concern himself about her dress. She'd get him out of here 
in a hurry, anyway, once she'd found out what the present was. She 
pulled the door open and waited till he'd entered before closing and 
locking it again. She really didn't know why she was being so careful 
...

Jim put the three packages carefully down on the low coffee table and 
let himself fall, phhheeewww! to the couch, putting his arms along the 
back. "Gee, little girl," he said, not yet looking at her, "that's a 
mean weight to carry about. Your Mom's not home, you say? When'll she 
be back?"

"Oh, not for hours, I expect. She's gone to see one of her friends ..."

"A boyfriend!?"

"No ...! One of the ladies she went to school with, or something."

"Oh. Say, Maryon Alysun, are you all dressed up to go riding with us 
today? Aw, that's a pity. But it ain't really my fault, y'know. And you 
took so pretty like that, come to think of it, don't ever remember 
seeing you wear a dress like that, and those shoes! Why, you look all 
grown up."

"Oh, thank you, sir," said Maryon, making a mock curtsey, aware of the 
length of leg she exposed as she raised the hem of the bright-blue 
dress and bent her knee.

"No, I mean it, kid! You really look grown up. Say, how old are you 
again? Thirteen? Wow, when I was your age little girls didn't look like 
you, kid. You know your mother when she's in one of her spats, though. 
Don't understand her sometimes. And she doesn't seem to understand me! 
But you wouldn't know about that. Jeeze, but I could do with a drink. 
She's out and won't be back till late, you say? Well, tell you what, 
I've, got a gallon of Chablis here--not great stuff, local but okay for 
a picnic, which is why I brought it. Since we're not going on a picnic, 
I might as well break into it, huh? Can you get me a glass, girlie? Old 
Jim ain't got much class, but he hasn't gotten to where he drinks out 
of the bottle, yet. Oh, and say, get a small glass for yourself, 
Maryon. We'll celebrate my solitude, a slug won't hurt you."

Acutely conscious of her over-swaying slender hips, bare under the 
nylon, Maryon sauntered into the kitchen, found a couple of glasses, 
and returned, wishing the while that he'd hurry up and get out of here, 
after he'd left his present! so that she could further investigate the 
mysteries of her mother's roomful of clothes. Now she put the glasses 
on the table and, watching as he expertly poured, sat down on a red 
leatherette hassock across from him, careful to bend her tight-closed 
legs away from him and pull the edge of the dress down over her knees, 
lest he see beneath it to her nude little nubbin.

"Now, sip that carefully, don't want your mother to get mad at me all 
over again 'cause I got you drinking," said Jim, taking a healthy swig 
from his own larger glass. Maryon felt a warm glow go through her as 
she drank. The wine tasted a little bitter but as her mouth and throat 
and chest warmed to it she could understand why grownups would like it.

"Mmmhhh, that's good," she said, looking at him out of her big blue 
eyes, screwing up her nose and shaking her long ponytail. "Uh, Jim, 
what present did you get me?"

He was already pouring his second glass and waited until he'd taken 
another drink before he indicated one of the two parcels, the flat, 
smaller, square one. "Bet you can't guess what it is?"

Maryon took another drink of wine, a bit more, this time. It was 
beginning to taste good, and nothing seemed to be happening to her. 
"Can I touch it?" she asked.

"Sure, sure," he said expansively. "Hey, come sit on my knee, and then 
you can open it. But you should guess, first. Bet you don't get it, 
first time off. Hey, mind my glass!"

Wondering what it could be, Maryon hastily had finished off her drink, 
picked up the package, which seemed light, and sat herself uncaring 
down on his knee so that she almost spilled the glass in his hand. 
Leaning around her he refilled both glasses and leaned back to watch 
her as she puzzled. "Hey, what'll you bet?" he asked, putting a hand on 
her shoulder.

"Oh, I don't know ..." she said, reaching for her glass and weighing 
the gift in her other hand. "Uh ... if I win, you get to buy me another 
something like whatever this is; if I don't guess, I'll give you a big 
kiss. And you get a kiss for this present anyway."

"Oh, yeah, just like all you girls," he said, laughing a bit ruefully. 
"Doesn't cost you anything, but I'll have to fork out if I lose. Well, 
okay. Can you guess?"

"Oh, don't rush me," she said, jiggling on his knee, feeling his bones 
through the thin dress against her rump. She moves a bit closer to him 
up his thigh and wriggled back until she sat on both His legs. His arm 
went about her waist to hold her There was a moment's silence as they 
both drank. "Oh, I give up," she said, and began to fumble at the 
wrappings.

"The bet first," he said, and pulled her toward him. She turned her 
face up and kissed him full on the lips as they came together, having 
meant only to dab him on the cheek. But even though she was intent at 
the moment on getting into the package, she couldn't help giving him a 
responsive open-mouthed kiss as his warm hand came up around her 
shoulder in what had probably started off being a friendly hug. And 
then she pulled from him and ripped into the fancy covering paper. It 
was a record, an album, The Sound of Music! She'd wanted to get it but 
her allowance wouldn't allow it. Tucking it under one arm, she threw 
her other about his neck and wildly kissed him, full on the mouth again 
pleased that he'd thought specially of her, and driven by the wine to 
extravagant gesture. "Oh, think you, Jim," she said, looking at him 
with shining eyes. "Can I play it now?" And with a fine disregard to 
the high-riding of her bright blue skirt up her stockinged legs, she 
slipped down from him and ran into her own room, where she impatiently 
set the record on the player and waited for it to start.

When, floating with the music, she returned to the living room, she 
found her glass once again full and Jim lying back against the couch 
grasping his own.

Feeling light-headed, grown-up and happy, Maryon danced around the 
room, arms outstretched, pausing only now and again for a gulp of the 
heady wine, careless of the way the high-waisted dress swirled out from 
the stems of her legs, letting the music decide her movements for her. 
When, out of breath, she paused, the skirt settling down over her dark-
stockinged legs, she was surprised to see that the gallon bottle had 
been reduced by over a third. Jim, with a peculiar smile on his face, 
eyed her through half-closed lids. "I've never seen your mother move 
about like that," he said, his voice comfortable and blurred. "That's a 
piece o'real 'ntertainment. Y'deserve a li'l som'p'm fr y'r time. Screw 
Lois, always standin' a man up. Here, kid, take this instead o' ... 
instead o' her. Try it on, lemme see if it fits though, huh? At least a 
man deserves that, don't he?"

Clumsily reaching for the parcel beside him, Jim attempted to toss it 
to her, but between his bad aim and her sudden, strange lack of 
coordination, she not only missed it but, in trying to catch it on the 
fly, fell over the hassock and sprawled on the floor giggling, one long 
leg still caught over the hassock so that the bright blue dress fell 
back upon her thigh. She was still shaking as she crawled along the 
floor after the parcel, and when she noticed that one naked breast was 
peeping through the V of the dress she was too helpless with laughter 
to be able to fix it, and too gay to care. And when, the oblong package 
under her arm, she tried to stand up again, she knew that her bent knee 
must reveal to his focusing eyes at least some hint in the shadows of 
her thighs that she was equally bare there.

A little unsteadily Jim pushed himself to his feet and came over to 
her, taking her arm. "Upsy-daisy," he said, lifting, and at last she 
was on her feet, though unsteady in the forward-straining high-heeled 
shoes. She swayed against him as she scrabbled at the wrappings and at 
last got them off, feeling his hot breath on her ear as he supported 
her. The oblong box now revealed she quickly dropped to the floor, 
holding on to the tissue-paper covered bundle of lightness inside. 
Taking hold of a comer of black material that showed she shook and 
waved it from her hand until the paper floated away and she could see 
that she held a garment of some kind. And such a garment!

It was made of sheer black nylon, transparent as the stockings she 
wore, with large-patterned diamond-shaped ridges on it. It was a one-
piece affair, with legs and arms that ended in black ruffles that 
matched the ones edging the navel deep V in front and the deeper V in 
back. The front was the front, she could tell, because of the black 
ridges which outlined where the wearer's breasts would be held. As she 
examined it more closely, closing one blue eye to concentrate better, 
she saw that a small plastic zipper ran from the notch of the rear V 
around to that of the front one, and now she carefully unzipped it so 
that, as she held it out in both hands, it resembled a floating black 
butterfly. "Oh, it's beautiful!" she said, with a slight hiccup, and 
pushed herself away from Jim to try to dance again to the tune of 
'These are a few of the things that I love'.

"Mmhh, put it on, honey," said Jim. "I bet it's your size."

Obediently, happy to oblige, Maryon kicked off her shoes and tried to 
step into one of the clinging legs of the harem-type costume, but kept 
on losing her balance. "You'll have to help me, Jim. And gimme some 
more wine, please." She'd show him whether she was big enough to take 
her mother's Place or not!

He gurgled the Chablis into the two glasses and gave her one, then 
knelt in front of her. "Put your hand on my shoulder, Maryon," he said, 
then took her foot in one hand and eased it into the leg of the thing, 
then changed hands to do the same with the other leg. He spent a minute 
at her feet making sure he'd got the thing on her the right side out 
and the right way around, then, pulling at the black nylon, slid his 
hands slowly up her calves and over her knees, then up to her thighs, 
under the dress. "Can't see what I'm doing," he said, and without 
thinking she took hold of the hem of the dress and tucked it up under 
her chin, quickly, returning her free hand to his shoulder and taking a 
sip of wine from the glass in the other.

The sight of her unconcerned nudity seemed to be too much for the man 
and he stared at her gold-twined cunt as it was exquisitely framed by 
the stocking-tops and the garter-belt and its straps as if he'd struck 
real gold. More slowly now, never letting his eyes deviate from that 
bland blonde nest that faced him, he slid the harem-costume further up 
her thighs. At the touch of that nylon-on-nylon sensation on her legs, 
Maryon felt that old feeling start all over again. She shook her hips 
impatiently. "Hurry up, Jim," she said. "I'm getting tired of 
standing."

She quivered as his hands cupped the lush balls of her ass, fitting the 
thing to her like a glove, then looked down the length of herself as 
she felt him fumbling at her thighs.

"Ought to take this thing off," he was muttering, unfastening the 
straps of her garter-belt. "Otherwise might tear something. Better get 
your dress off, too. Here, let me put your glass down while you do it."

Maryon felt her breasts pull free as she struggled to get the bright 
blue dress off over her head, her long-whipped ponytail getting in the 
way for a while so that she strained and stretched her body to set her 
agile young breasts to dancing above Jim's head as he loosed the taut 
straps resting against the satin creaminess of her thighs and laddered 
the jiggling, ballooning richness of her cute little rump. Finally he 
managed to unhook the thing and drop it to the floor, then stood up 
help her with the dress, as she arched her back, shrugging her 
shoulders, she was pressed against him and with a hidden gasp she 
realized that he was hard beneath his tight pants, and soon, if she was 
lucky, she would get her first look at a real man.

The dress flung carelessly over the hassock, Maryon stood lax and limp 
as Jim quickly pulled the rest of the garment up over her and slid her 
arms into its sleeves. Stepping back, he told her to get herself sorted 
out and, awkwardly bending her neck to see what she was doing, since 
there was no mirror in the room, she cupped her nubile breasts and 
tucked them carefully into place under the transparent dark nylon. At 
his suggestion she stepped into the blue shoes, then reaching behind 
her with an arc of her slim stomach that she knew thrust her titties 
out to their fullest prominence, took hold of the zipper that lodged 
above the crack of her ass and pushed it down as far as it would go 
beneath her, before leaning over to reach down in front of her, her 
breasts like cherry-tipped pears, to grasp the zipper and pull it up in 
front.

Its tightening track pulled the harem-thing about her like a second 
skin, and as she wiggled and stretched to get more comfortable in it 
the transparent black nylon moved with her. When she bent her legs and 
stuck her butt out, placing her hand to cup her crotch and smooth the 
bite of the ridge out of it, she surreptitiously fingered herself, 
oblivious of Jim's bright-eyed stare.

Suddenly becoming aware again of the music, she put her hands on her 
neck, below the swinging ponytail, dropped her head back and, standing 
in place, lithely put her body through the paces of a wild dance, 
feeling the excitement grow in her as the tight nylon subtly slid and 
tugged against her flesh.

"I think you owe me a kiss for the present, honey," she heard him say 
softly, and then she felt one arm about her shoulders and the other on 
her waist. Still keeping her hands behind her, she let him pull her 
writhing body against him, and she deliberately drove her little crotch 
against the bulge in pants, letting the sleek nylon slide sussuratingly 
over him he had to be aware that she knew what she was doing, dropped a 
hand to her behind and feverishly clutched and stroked her animated 
ass, while on her closed-eye face she felt his hot, musky breath. His 
lips came down on her own parted rosebuds, and immediately she darted 
her long, wriggling tongue into his mouth, thrusting and seeking his 
until they met and struggled.

The familiar longings quickly spread through her, tinged with the 
delicate spice of daring, the consequences of discovery or disclosure 
in this instance would be far more severe than would have been the case 
with her brother, even. She mashed her wet lips the more resolutely 
against Jim's and prepared herself for utter abandonment.

Before long he was searching with his lips down her body, sucking her 
hardened rosy nipples through the shadow of black nylon, fondling the 
lower cracks of her ass, rubbing his head excitingly against her belly, 
finally on his knees, reaching up for the zipper and plunging it down 
into the nest of her crotch. Obligingly she parted her thighs, feeling 
the strain on their slender fronts as she turned them out, still 
rocking to the music in her head, the playing album now finished and 
off.

His head nuzzled deeper into her crotch and inexorably she felt herself 
being pushed back toward the couch, though only half aware of the 
cooperation she was affording him. Maniacally she swung her lissome 
body until the lashing ponytail beat on her shoulders and her cheeks. 
Moving forward after her on His knees the man clasped her thighs and, 
digging his fingers into the crevice behind her, pulled her apart until 
she felt she would split there. Even through the delirium of her 
passion she was conscious of relief when at last her calves hit the 
edge of the couch and she fell back onto it. Impatiently he caught hold 
of the edges of the flimsy garment and pulled it apart, exposing her 
fresh lush breasts to his gaze and hands.

He held one each in his hot, sweaty palms, roughly caressing them, 
squeezing her aroused, ardent nipples between finger and thumb so that 
she almost cried out, except that the torture was insanely wild and 
invigorating. Lust consumed her and she flung one stockinged, nyloned 
leg over the back of the couch and let the other fall to the floor, 
splitting herself into a limber V the better to accommodate his gaping, 
gnawing mouth and strong-licking tongue. "Oh baby, oh baby, oh baby 
..." he gasped, slobbering wetly about the smooth cream satin of her 
inner thighs, between whiles sinking his teeth gently into her taut, 
whitened tendons as they pulled out from her as if into the soft tender 
meat of a drumstick. As he moved his head slowly up her arched, upward-
thrust bare belly, she caught at one of his hands in her own and 
pressed it down from her heaving breast, sliding along her panting 
flanks until he palmed her quivering cunt, and he insinuated one finger 
between her craving lips and rubbed his thumb on the hard node of her 
clitoris until she jerked and jerked again, sucking with her labia to 
draw him into her, hungry for her helpless hollow to be filled.

Presently his teeth and hand left her bobbing, tormented nipples, 
though the hand at her cleft continued to twist and tease her. In a 
brief flash of panic Maryon thought that he'd decided to stop, and for 
the first time realized that she was hopelessly, helplessly lost to the 
gusts of desire, and animal instincts overrode all other considerations 
with her. But then he was back. She knew at the back of her mind that 
he must have stripped off his pants, for against her face she felt the 
hot hard stick of his prick and the wet soft bags of his balls as he 
straddled her head. Reaching dreamily for him with one hand, she rubbed 
his parts about her cheeks, smelling the sweaty incense of him, pulling 
him down to run her nose along his length, then taking the loose skin 
of his testicles between her tiny teeth until she could suck the 
dangling fruit into her wide-open mouth, swilling his nuts deliciously 
in her swollen cheeks.

To her blurry, slitted, near-sighted vision his cock was massive, 
magnificent, marvelously long and broad. Positioned as she was under 
him, she couldn't get it into her mouth however she twisted, so she 
contented herself with kissing it wetly, running her twinkling, 
lascivious tongue along its length, licking butter from a corncob. 
Bending her slender neck a bit, she could see a pearl of moisture at 
its red, distended tip, and lovingly she curled her tongue up around to 
pick it off his cock-head, savoring the liquid nodule of nectar. As if 
her laving tongue had provided the lot touch to his fuse, Jim abruptly 
jumped around on her, and, removing his rampaging hand, at last laid 
the head of his tool at her portal's lips. He reached for her hand and 
placed it on him. Instinctively she grasped it, squeezing its pulsing 
palmful and thrusting up with her hips bravely to encompass with her 
sadly cunctated little cunt-lips his broad-domed driving rod.

Taller than she, he could no longer nibble on her trembling tits, 
though with the hand that did not support him he roved her breasts like 
a pirate with a chest of gems, and in her ear, as meantime he bit her 
lobe, she could hear him through her own red torrent of tingling blood 
incoherently mutter how he'd give it to her, how he'd fuck Lois, how 
he'd been saving for his screw, how Lois would now get what had long 
been coming to her, how he'd make her whimper for him and quit her 
whining at him, but he was not completely unaware that it was not her 
mother under him, Maryon realized as a thin blade of rationality cut 
down through her raging emotions for a second, for often, as he eased 
his prick heroically into her juicy tightness, he would murmur, 
"Thirteen-year-old pussy; a thirteen-year-old piece. Thirteen-year-old 
pussy; a thirteen-year-old piece!" with a shade of amazement in his 
words.

Utterly abandoning herself to him now, Maryon began to respond to his 
stronger thrusts with twisting drives of her own, letting the new-found 
muscles of her hot, velvet cavern use their steel fingers to draw him 
in. All sensation in her ran from nipples and toes down and up to her 
pleasure-pain-aching loins and, reaching blindly down, she caught her 
dark-nyloned legs behind her knees and pulled them back and apart still 
more, wondering why she could not get the rest of him in her that she 
sensed kept his crotch from grinding on hers.

His thighs smoothly riding between the shallow, silky fork of her own, 
he began to piston harder, stronger, battering at some blockage within 
her that, finally, with a sharp pain that cut into her like the slice 
of a razor-blade, shivered and split. 
"Ooooowwwwwaaaaawwwwwggggghhhhhgggnmuuhhhhh!" she cried in shock, and 
withdrew her bouncing ass from him, pushing at his shoulders with 
fragile, frantic hands and pressing her high-bent knees against the 
powerful bones of his hips. But His new freedom of passage only served 
to lash his lust to further endeavors, and her sudden tight clamping on 
him seemed to encourage rather than dissuade his zealous zest. Now each 
plunging stroke and sticky part-withdrawal rubbed her raw, but at the 
same time it was exactly like scratching a nettle-itch, too 
tantalizingly pleasant to give up despite the consequences. And when 
his bludgeoning blows at last beat their way to the ultimate door of 
her desire and his slippery key sidled with oil on its grooves into her 
final, canaliculated lock the clean erotic delightful delirium her 
instinctive constrictions sent her into washed away all semblance of 
hurt. Her inner body hesitated with titillating indecision whether to 
shrink back from the bold bumblebee invading the tiny petals of her 
shockingly sensitive cervix or to fleetingly, flutteringly blossom 
about it.

Short quick shivers consumed her whole being as her vaginal fingers 
clutched and clung to his swollen thrumming member and then, all too 
soon, her balm-dam burst and floods of golden flaming sweltering 
sweetness flowed from her about him, more gloriously satisfying than 
anything her fiery fantasies and fleet fingers had been able to 
achieve. And still he rode into her, sshhhwacking up and down her 
tremorous tunnel so that the very sound of it drew more gushing gallons 
from within her, so that her vitals seemed about to be sucked out of 
her. Then as she lay there writhing, pinned it position like a dying 
butterfly, a hot hard stream shot through the sundered shards of her 
erstwhile honey's haven and first time Maryon knew the incredible 
impact of an uncontrolled creaming. She sucked in her belly and roiled 
her hips rapidly, gasping at the repeated jets that squirted into her 
deepest recesses, filling them to an overflowing that laid a layer of 
viscous liquid between his prodding prick and her wambling walls, and 
clenching herself desperately about him to contain the excess and 
squeeze him dry. Clench--squeeze--thrust--squirt ... clench--squeeze--
thrust--squirt ... Clench--squeeze--thrust--squirt ... there seemed to 
be no end to it ... to him ... to her ... to the aching misty magic 
moment ...

Against her singing ear he groaned gratefully in his throat, and from 
her own still-childish lips came quick little cries of gasping 
gratification.

At last, hot and damp and panting, he'd finished with her, and Maryon 
was left breathlessly beneath him to experience the tender tantalizing 
tortures of mutual tabescence.

They lay there, breathing deeply and slowly, as if asleep.

And then dry sobs for an ache of something irretrievably lost, began to 
consume her and, wine well washed out of her wits, she shudderingly 
drew herself out from under his uncaring, uncomplaining bulk and ran, 
naked, hands clapped to her ravished reddened cleft, to the bathroom 
where, locking herself in, she jumped into the shower, tearing the 
remnants of her clothes from her and mingling her frightened tears with 
the running water as she scrubbed demonically at herself.

When, eons later, she plucked up innocent courage to return to the 
living room, she found bottle, paper, boxes ... all traces of Jim gone. 
The couch had been wiped clean of whatever might have stained it, and 
the glasses, rinsed, returned to the kitchen.

She picked up the dress and one shoe, got the other and the stockings 
from the bathroom and restored them to Lois' room, pulled on a sweater 
and jeans and went out to hide the harem-thing at the bottom of the 
garbage can.

In her room again, she stamped and hammered on the Sound Of Music with 
her shoe, then took the remains of that, too, out into the trash can.



Fourteen Years Old


Maryon approached initiation time next year with mixed feelings. She 
knew, vaguely, that she would be humiliated and degraded upon her 
entrance to the 'underground' 'Bare-Stud-Cat' society but she was at 
the mental and physical stage where she just didn't care.

Jim Harris had never shown up again, giving the quarrel with her mother 
as the excuse, though Lois, despairingly, put herself down and pleaded 
with him to come back and give her another chance. Since then Lois had 
taken to going out at least four nights a week to the neighborhood 
bars, deeming Maryon old enough not to need a babysitter. Karen seemed 
more and more to be engaged in mysterious, lonely projects of her own 
so, when Sylvia Matherly, condescending to her fourteen years from her 
sixteen, took her aside one day at break and asked her if she wanted to 
join the clandestine club, she shrugged and said yes.

The 'Bare-Stud-Cats,' it was rumored in wondering whispers, were about 
twenty of the most rebellious of the Wingering Experimental School for 
Boys, with perhaps a dozen of the more daring of the otherwise 
straightlaced St. Joan's older girls as a kind of unladies' auxiliary. 
Disclosure of what went on at their highly unauthorized random-selected 
and timed 'come-togethers' was peculiarly and painfully punished, it 
was said. Whatever the reason, none but the members knew how and where 
they spent their time, and it was considered a dubious honor to be 
asked to join.

Maryon had received her instructions on a read-and-eat section of 
(unused!) toilet-paper. She was to come alone, at seven of a Friday 
evening, to the small gym of the Wingering school, telling no one of 
her impending visit. She was to wear--the instructions precisely 
spelled it out-gym costume under a raincoat, no bra, no panties, 
rubber-soled boots.

With a quick, sure look behind and around her to see she'd not been 
followed and that there were none to observe her illicit entry in the 
place, Maryon carefully closed the gate behind her and walked swiftly 
and noiselessly in her boots to the gym door. The tiny foyer was dark, 
someone had removed the bulb. But as she stood there in the blackness 
she heard someone move, someone who knew where she was standing, 
oriented to her by her silhouette as she'd come through the door. With 
no word of explanation or introduction, a pair of hands touched her 
body, then ran up to her face. Something was placed over it and she 
almost panicked until she realized that some kind of mask, with no eye-
holes, but curved and fitted to leave her nose and lips free, was being 
adjusted with straps that went over her head and beneath her ears. As 
soon as it was in place, she heard a light click on, a last tug was 
given to the straps, then hands ran lightly over her body, unbelting 
and unbuttoning the white trench coat she wore and sliding it from her 
unprotesting shoulders before patting her to check, presumably, that 
she'd perfectly obeyed the orders she'd been given.

She knew what they ... he ... she ...? could see, her blonde hair cut 
short so that golden curls hugged her cheeks, framing her clear, clean, 
creamy complexion, slightly turned-up nose, and lips that insisted on 
remaining over-full and childish despite her experimentation with 
lipsticks ... a firm, rounded chin and a rather long, slim neck that 
was now circled by the polo-neck of her white, cotton-and-wool, long-
sleeved rib-wristed, tight-fitting gym sweater. Hugging her every 
contour, stretched like a second skin over her firm, high-held, berry-
tipped grapefruit of breasts, the single garment swept down along her 
flanks, showing the subtle indentations and rises of her ribs, before 
being cut off from view just above the hollow of her navel and the lean 
thrusts of her hips by the elastic-topped brief blue synthetic-silk of 
her shorts that, with brown piping at sides down to the three-inch 
slits there, nestled high-legged into her crotch and smoothed 
themselves over her out-curved cheeks as unwrinkled and conforming to 
their swelling pressure as the fabric sheathing the globe of a hot-air 
balloon.

But, effectively blinded herself, she could see nothing, not even the 
hint of light beyond the mask, and so let herself be led forward, not 
without some inner apprehension which she did her best to conceal from 
whatever audience was around her. From memory of a couple of previous 
visits she knew she was being led, by a hot hand at her elbow, into the 
gym proper, and as she carefully negotiated the short flight of steps 
which went down to the planked wooden floor, she recalled the set-up.

Directly across from her as she entered the low door, some thirty feet 
or so, was a wall banked by wall-bars. Against the walls at left and 
right would be, respectively, a variable height wooden box-horse and a 
four-legged, leather-cylindered horse with a pair of vaulting handles, 
and a set of parallel bars and a pile of rubber mats. Four pairs of 
ropes would be hanging down from the beamed ceiling, and across the 
width of the gym, halfway down its length to her left, would be the 
bar, perhaps lowered, perhaps hauled up out of the way. Against the 
walls immediately to left and right of the entrance door were stacks of 
low benches, not much used for exercise, but forming a convenient set 
of bleachers for whoever was not performing on the apparatus. As she 
came into the small, lofty hall she felt the presence of people in 
those bleachers ... a short, nervous laugh here, a couple of words in a 
subdued tone there ... an air of inhabitance everywhere. A boy's voice 
at her ear told her to obey exactly whatever order she received, told 
her to turn about to face her peers, told her she stood in the exact 
center of the gym, told her to answer truthfully.

Maryon, her pulse beating rapidly, nodded her head to show she 
understood, and stood patiently replying to the catechism put to her 
... her age ... her statistics (five-one, ninety-five, thirty-four, 
twenty-two, thirty-one) ... the state of her virginity (no questions 
asked as to its loss) her general knowledge of the Bare-Stud-Cats 
purpose ...

Then began the ordeal of initiation. First she was asked to show them 
the soles of her boots, which she did. The ridged rubber soles belonged 
to the only boots she possessed, shiny black fur-lined leather that 
fitted snugly to just below her knees without benefit of zipper, the 
tops turned back down a couple of inches to disclose a thick band of 
fluffy white. Her choice appeared satisfactory and the lone mysterious 
voice, also a boy's, told her to climb the ropes that would be put into 
her hand. Running the two lengths over and around one foot and clamping 
down with the other, Maryon pulled herself up until she was told to 
stop, judging she was a couple of body-heights from the floor. Here she 
was told to reverse herself and, feeling odd in her blindness and 
somewhat disoriented, she released her feet from the ropes and, taking 
a firm grip with her hands, swung her body up and over until she hung 
head downward, her booted feet once again wrapped around separately by 
the ropes. A command ordered her to slowly descend and, the blood 
rushing to her head, she slid down until told to stop again. Without 
warning she felt hands on her body and someone inserted his fingers 
into her shorts, gripped the edge of her sweater, and pulled it down so 
that her breasts swung free, nakedly hanging out from her as she hung 
there. The sweater was deftly rolled until it formed a tight band under 
her arms and then the hands moved caressingly up her belly to her 
shorts and under them, so that she quivered to the touch of fingers on 
her cunt under the tight silk.

Next the voice told her to release her feet and swing over backwards, 
so that now she hung by her twisted arms, facing her audience, and the 
same pair of hands rolled down the top of her shorts, pulling up into 
her crotch so that she knew she revealed the lower swell of her belly, 
the valleys between abdomen and thighs, and her golden cluster of 
curls, with her quim starkly outlined by the stretched silk. Behind her 
the inquisitive hands continued between the cheeks of her ass which, in 
any case, hung barely out above the band of blue silk. Meanwhile 
knotted loops must have been made in a pair of other ropes, for the 
hands bent her legs at the knee, one at a time, and inserted them into 
the loops so that she hung face down and spread-eagled. Her hair was 
unceremoniously gripped and her chin jerked up, and she was set to 
swinging, at first gently, then in longer arcs, swooping toward her 
inquisitors with her pendant breasts dropping pear-shaped down from 
her, her bare balls of butt thrust up into the air as she jack-knifed 
her body to perpetuate its diving through the air. She heard footsteps 
about her and now many hands let her swinging, unprotected body play 
under and over them, their touch so rough sometimes that she was forced 
to lift herself by her already straining arms in order not to have her 
titties bang painfully into some human obstruction. As she writhed and 
twisted for them, the taut muscles of her thighs worked on her so that 
her cunt felt open, and each new swing cut the blue silk more deeply 
into her, so that she knew she spanned it with her young and liquid 
lips.

After a while they tired of this amusement and, releasing her feet, let 
her gratefully stand up. Solicitous hands pulled down her tight white 
sweater over her heaving breasts, but then continued on down to tug at 
the sliver of shorts until they slid down her legs, where she was told 
to step out of them. She could feel the lower edge of the sweater band 
about her lower belly and just above the inward curves of her ass as 
they swept sweetly into her thighs, and shivered as she faced them, 
naked from knee to navel, pretty well. She was next led over to the 
wall-bars and reached behind her to the highest bar above her head. Her 
legs were parted and the heels of her boots hooked over the bottom bar, 
then she was told to 'walk' up the wall as far as she could. As her 
legs bent at the knees and, inch by inch, she moved her feet 
alternately up the poles, her body was thrust forward in a great arc, 
suspended by her arms in their tight covering of sweater, her breasts 
ovalled and flattened by the pulling strain, and her gold-fuzzed pussy 
pushed out to its greatest prominence. When her knees were bent at 
right-angles and she could climb no more, her ankles were seized and 
pulled still further apart, and then, as she hung defenseless, fingers 
began to rove her lower body, tickling her thighs, plucking at her 
labia, pulling them open so that pairs of fingers could be slid into 
her. She throbbed and quivered as biting kisses were delivered onto her 
exposed parts, and tongues and teeth were employed to titillate her 
clitoris. Her vagina was full of oozing moisture and, as someone's 
small fist was pistoned into her, wriggling its knuckles for purchase 
so that she silently struggled against the raking pain, the sounds of 
suction echoed in the place above the heavy breathing all about. With a 
great deal of expertise, they worked on her until she was just about 
ready to explode with desire, then desisted and let her stew before 
starting again.

Without preamble she was ordered down, turned around, and told to 
reverse her former position, so that now her unprotected ass was at 
their mercy, pushed out at them in all its rosy nakedness, and they 
again played with her, fingering her cunt as it bared its pink-lipped 
slit below her, moistening the tunnel into her tight brown asshole and 
plunging a finger into it till it met the tight first corner of the 
tunnel, sending startled and delighted shocks through her which they 
could not fail to notice.

And once she was sure that a hot-headed prick had been rubbed up 
against her, but it didn't enter, and she couldn't be sure.

By this time it wasn't the indignities being visited on her that gave 
her any thought, but the sheer aching pain on her arms and legs, so she 
was glad when the footsteps receded and her parts were relieved of 
their probing. Ordered to get down again, she walked with throbbing 
thighs and sore crotch to where the hand on her arm next led her. 
Standing, she wasn't sure where, the sweater was at last stripped from 
her to leave her solely in mask and boots. She soon found that she was 
not to be left alone to be merely stared at. Instead she was bent 
forward until, stretching, she could feel the cold leather of the box-
horse, then hastening hands on her ass sent her forward until the 
crease of her thighs was shivered by contact with the leather. On 
instructions she laid herself along its length, on her face, cringing 
as the coolness of the material touched her belly and breasts. But not 
for long was she to be left on ice for, without warning, a stinging 
slap was delivered to her upthrust haunches, followed by an equally as 
scorching blow on her other cheek. Now they came like hot rain as, 
evidently, the whole crew took turns to buffet her bare and boldly 
offered backside. At first the slaps brought tears to her eyes under 
the mask, and she almost broke down and begged to be released ... this 
seemed to be just so much sadism. But then, as the descending fingers, 
some flat, some cupped, continued to extend the territory they so 
fleetingly but tinglingly covered, their effect, she was surprised to 
find, was to stimulate her sexually, both by virtue of an ultimate 
relaxation of herself to whatever they would do to her, and to be 
spanked like a child was about the most humiliating thing she could 
imagine, and by the pressure of the leathered-edge of the horse against 
the fragile-seeming bones of her pelvis, which steadily built an 
increasing pressure in her groin until she felt she must either piss or 
perish of a lovely and lascivious lassitude.

From halfway above her knees to the small of her back she was a 
roseate, glowing mass of sensation, and when at last they finished and 
she was allowed to get up, she felt deliciously, feverishly bruised, 
and almost fell to her knees from the ache.

In a daze she let herself be led next, stumbling her oddly heavy-footed 
way across the planked and polished floor, to where they had creakingly 
lowered the walking bar. Fearfully she wondered if they expected her to 
get up there and walk it, blind and shaky-legged, but with a sigh of 
relief she understood that she had merely to hang from it by her arms 
and swing her way along it back and forth several times. Dimly she 
imagined what a sight she must make for their avid eyes, clad only in 
the mask and her shiny black white-fur-topped boots as her straining 
body bounced and bobbled her nude breasts and her twisting hips by turn 
excitingly covered and concealed the gape-lipped young pink juiciness 
of her cavorting quim. Again, as she finally hung there from bone-
aching wrists, eager and predatory hands probed and pried at her, 
sliding into her ready cunt, ravaging her outraged rectum, lifting and 
squeezing her breasts as though she were fruit in the market, 
tormenting her tender ass with great pinches of tortured flesh between 
finger and thumb till she felt like a side of beef being appraised at a 
butcher's.

Still with only brief, low-pitched words to guide her, she at last 
dropped from the beam and stumbled over to where the pile of rubber 
mats had been stacked so that, as she was pushed back on them, her 
booted feet just was clear of the floor. Painfully conscious of the 
ridges of rubber beneath her burnished bottom, she tiredly but 
obediently parted her legs and fell back with outstretched arms, 
knowing now that she was to be faced with the ultimate test and already 
feeling her eager nipples send their aroused shocks through her 
expectant body.

Almost immediately she was subjected to myriads of shades of strong and 
subtle stimulation. Some of them, boys and girls alike, had apparently 
stripped themselves while others, it seemed, had only partly denuded 
themselves. Before they'd finished with her, or she with them, Maryon 
judged they'd all participated in one way or another. In her 
blindfolded state, and with the delectably confusing sensations 
breathtakingly and mind-fillingly engendered in her, she could never 
hope to recapture exactly the order and manner in which they satisfied 
themselves on and with her. The evening became to her memory a lost 
living legend of lust, full of peaks and valleys and climbs and drops.

Sometimes a hand on her wrist would encourage her to grasp a hot hard 
stem of flesh and gently stroke or furiously frig it. Or it might be 
nylon-stockinged legs that would part to let her pulsing fingers slide 
into a wet and unknown cunt like clenching calipers. Twice by the taste 
a twinkling twat presented itself to her questing lips for a kiss, and 
another discreetly covered her head within the confines of a hot and 
humid skirt before edging along to place its pelvic bones firmly 
between her jaws so that coarse hairs wound their way between her teeth 
as she obligingly munched. Her breasts were continuously ravaged by a 
round of chewing, biting, nipping, sucking mouths until she could feet 
her young cherries of nipples swell to bursting point and her puffed 
areolas corrugating to agonies of stirring sensitivity. And all the 
time at the center of her sex were foreskinned pricks and bare-headed 
bones; long-nailed roving fingers that raked her succulent flesh like 
razors, and blunt-ended ones that toyed tantalizingly with her 
tremorous clitoris; sharp-tipped tongues that impudently prodded into 
her, and duller, broader ones that were content to lick and lave her 
unprotesting and protuberant little labia. Hands fondled and caressed 
and kneaded and tickled her so that she writhed in exquisite delight 
under their never-ceasing embraces. Now a hot, struggling nude body 
would lie heavily upon her while helpful hands opened her up and slid 
the stranger's leathered loaded length into her, briefly ... now a 
cockless crotch would jerk fitfully raspingly against her own and 
softer lips would search about her mouth with urgently desirous 
response ... now hands would reach beneath her and rend her callipygian 
cleft while a voided sensuous mouth hotly supped on the split semi-
spendings of a former occupier ... now a lean and rubbery smooth and 
slender prick would bob for a moment against her cheeks before, her 
jaws prised roughly open, it found a honeyed haven. And meanwhile her 
hands were busy at breast and ball and cock and cunt, her desire 
mounting at a squared rate to theirs until she cried out around a 
mouthful of pendulous bollicks and twisted her head and petulantly 
pounded her hips up and down on the rubber mats, and reached and hooked 
with her black-booted legs to drag someone, something, any one or 
thing, into the hollow-echoing emptiness between her burning thighs 
that, mute, could not itself cry out for the filling it craved, mouth 
and mutter as it might.

Even so at least two of the boys shot their fiery sperm into her depths 
before she reached her first agonized orgasm, leaving her in the short 
interval between their insertions a sobbing, wrestling wreck who 
thought for a despairing second that they would cruelly let her suffer 
and so increased to a frenzy her manipulations upon someone's silken 
bag of nuts with one hand and a bulging, burgeoning bundle of flaring 
flesh with the other, with the immediate result that twin spurts of 
warm wet cream shot slithering along her arms. Giving thanks as the 
second, slimmer length was placed against her puckering lower lips and 
pushed within, she squeezed her handfuls dry and felt them replaced by 
another plump prick and a hot hollow that clamped about her paired 
fingers like a rubber glove.

Her own vagina began to clench and quiver uncontrollably as the 
intruder began to slide smoothly in and out of it, and she would have 
gasped at each incredibly reaching incursion had her throat not been 
blocked by the domed end of a meaty hot-dog of a prick that was engaged 
in dripping its mustard into her. At last her volcano overflowed and 
hot lava melted away her walls as, with eager, striving lips, she let 
the swinging hammer between her thighs batter away at her cervix and 
breach the last quivering crack in the innermost recesses of her 
yawning chasm. Golden magna scorched her and, as if blocked by the 
still plunging piston of prick that now, too, was jetting into her, the 
glorious glow backed up and filled her boiling belly. And soon her 
whistling breath was escaping into some new luscious questing quim 
athwart her jaws as a third battering-ram charged up her galvanized 
gulley and thudded imperiously at her closing gates to demand entrance 
... which demanded request she acceded to with redoubled pleasure.

Each new entry was welcomed into her marinating maw until she lost 
count of the number of times she liquidly, lovingly, lasciviously spent 
her cuntish kisses on the invaders. Whether those she masturbated to 
magnificent maturation also plucked up enough new Cassanovan courage to 
enter her, she didn't know. Or whether he that, kneeling over her, 
straddled her waist and jerked himself off between her creamy, satiny 
breasts with the aid of at least one girl--her breast dipped brushingly 
into Maryon's mouth like a small, shapeless silken bag with a marble in 
its end--also, shrived and shaven, entered her seminary in search of 
guidance and fulfillment ...

Toward the end she only was dimly aware that she was the blind center 
of a pile of wriggling, sweaty, cum-smeared, spittle-slobbered bodies 
whose every touch to her flesh sent darts of desire from their point of 
contact direct to her clamoring cunt, and whose often ineffectual, 
jaded javelins left still unrequited quarts of quim-oil in the rubber 
barrels of her bowels.

Later, led to a washroom, she finally emerged, dressed, to find the gym 
deserted and somewhat crudely cleared up.

Numb in mind and body, her psyche soothed and shocked by turns of 
memory, she thoughtfully and wearily went home, grinning ruefully at 
the fancy of her mother's reaction, should she ever learn where she'd 
been this evening. But Lois wasn't home yet.



Fifteen Years Old


Long before the winter of '66 came upon her, Maryon had grown tired of 
the constant fucking and fooling at the Bare-Stud-Cats' meetings. She 
was of a mind that there should be a time and a place for everything 
while they seemed to find pleasure only in using the auxiliary cunts as 
a place for their pricks, and at any and all times. So bored had she 
become, indeed, that she hadn't attended a meeting since summer, though 
Sylvia constantly urged her to come along and share the fun whenever a 
new member was to be initiated.

Conditions at home were still the same, with Lois beginning to put on a 
little weight and providing more TV dinners and excuses for her absence 
than ever. More for the sake of giving Sylvia something to tell the 
others than anything else, Maryon'd halfheartedly proposed Karen for 
membership and, to her surprise, the next day was urged to seek out the 
other girl and see if she wanted to join. Karen had grown more 
introverted, it seemed, and Maryon hadn't spent much time with the 
older girl, who more and more kept herself to herself and refused to 
participate in the usual school activities, she had been prevailed upon 
to portray Portia in the school production of The Merchant of Venice.

So it was that this Saturday night Maryon found herself being led 
straightaway upstairs in Karen's house to what the black-haired girl 
referred to as her studio. Her parents had gone out to dinner and a 
movie, it seemed, and the two girls were alone in the house.

"Gee, this is a swell pad. Groovy!" exclaimed Maryon, looking around 
her at the room. All the walls were curtained, and, being large, was 
draped so that behind the black hangings Karen could store books and 
clothes and albums. Even her record-player was hidden away there. The 
ceiling was likewise draped in black, like the inside of a tent, with 
only a glittering electric chandelier hanging from its center, with 
various colored bulbs set in it. A large mirror, tilted slightly 
forward, faced the foot of the bed, which itself was just a plain box-
spring topped by a mattress, and shrouded in a multiplicity of 
imitation animal skins and furs, with brightly colored cushions thrown 
carelessly upon it. On the floor were thick, intricately designed rugs, 
and there was a long footstool to one side of the bed. "Wow ... groovy, 
man!" repeated Maryon, impressed with this exotic display so simply and 
economically achieved.

"Yeah ... see; any kind of light I want, too, fixed it up myself," said 
the older girl, showing off, reaching under the covers of the bed to 
produce a small console of switches which, as she clicked them on and 
off, brought different colors out to glow from the chandelier, so that 
the room went through the changes of pure white, purple, red, green, 
yellow, blue, pink, orange ... too many for Maryon to take in at one 
glance ... and then in various combinations. Finally Karen left the 
lights to burn with a mysterious green effect with a touch of red in 
it, so that her oval, white-skinned face, framed by the long, straight 
jet black hair, might have illustrated a book on young witchcraft, and 
causing a strange sheen on the patterned nylon of the lounging pajama 
's she wore, whose belled legs and arms floated about her like seaweed.

"Loose your threads and park your butt, kiddo," she said, plunking 
herself down on the bed and patting a place beside her. "So, hey ... 
what's up? How come you haven't been around?"

Maryon slipped off her boots and socks and wriggled her toes into the 
warm depths of the rug, shrugged out of her coat and hung it behind the 
drapes, and affected a yawning stretch, a bit guilty at having ignored 
Karen for so long. In the mirror she saw herself reflected, a bit 
bigger and fuller than her friend, despite their ages, and wearing a 
simple green skirt and a white blouse that also, in this light, was 
tinged green.

Sitting herself down on the bed, she made a few excuses, then gradually 
introduced the subject of the Bare-Stud-Cats Club, and let herself be 
drawn out about what they did there.

Karen looked at her perceptively from under her long black lashes as 
she finished. "Uh, kiddo, something tells me you're not too turned on 
by it, this Club of yours, and all this screwing, huh?"

Maryon admitted she was right. Karen nodded wisely, her secret eyes 
flashing in the odd green shadows. "Gave up most of that stuff myself, 
couple of years back. Oh hell, yeah, you're not the only kids to get a 
kick out of fucking, y'know. Some of the rest of us got our kicks in 
too. But I dropped outa screwing around with those jerks, those little-
boy-bastards, long since. Got something better than that going for me 
now."

Maryon looked her enquiry.

"Chicks, man! What else? It's the only way to go! Y'ever go down on a 
chick, kiddo, or have one go down on you? Someone sympathetic and easy 
and slow, and not some cat hustling fast to get his rocks off, and 
screw your chance of getting your kicks?"

Thinking back, Maryon realized that, especially of late, she had had 
fewer climaxes and more instances of the boys in the Club using her as 
a kind of masturbatory machine ... whip it in, whip it out, and wipe 
it! She confessed, a bit shyly, of her lack of satisfaction recently, 
but added that actually the girls in the Club were straight, and got 
their sexual kicks from plain and fancy heterosexual balling, though 
they turned to with a will on initiation nights, many hands making 
light work, as it were.

"Huh, too many fucking cooks screwing up the soup!" said Karen with a 
dainty snort and a toss of her head that sent ripples of green through 
her black hair. "Tell you what, baby, why don't I teach you a few 
tricks of the game, huh? C'mon, get down to your skin, now ... What 
d'you say?"

Maryon hesitated for a moment then, willing to try anything at least 
once, slid off the bed and stood in front of Karen, who propped herself 
up on one elbow to look.

Maryon looked into Karen's hidden face then began to loosen the buttons 
on her blouse. Karen merely continued to watch her, making no move to 
also undress. Maryon felt a little self-conscious, but it didn't keep 
her from sliding her blouse from her slim shoulders, unzipping and 
stepping out of her skirt, and sliding her half-slip down over her 
strong thighs before discarding it, bending down to tug the elastic 
free of her feet. When she raised herself she wore only her black bra 
and panties, brief, lacy garments that did little more than accentuate 
the bounding curves of her breasts and hips and belly. She felt goose-
pimples sweep over her body and knew that they were caused by the 
steady, curl-lash-concealed gaze of Karen.

"Aren't you going to get ... naked, too?" she asked, after a pause, 
shifting her weight from shapely leg to outthrust thigh.

"Sure, kiddo, just as soon as you're in your skin."

With a slight feeling of irritation, Maryon reached behind her and 
unsnapped her bra. Pulling the wisp of a thing from her breasts, she 
felt the black lace catch at her hardening nipples.

Karen whistled. "You're built, kiddo," she commented, her eyes sweeping 
over the green-tinted mounds of breasts and dropping to the subtler 
curves of the hard, firm belly beneath.

"I guess I'll do," said Maryon, blushing despite herself at this 
unabashed feminine inspection. Karen continued to stare until Maryon 
could do nothing more than step out of her panties, conscious of the 
swing forward of her heavy breasts as she leaned forward. Then, totally 
nude, she faced Karen again. The older girl laughed, sat up, caught at 
the flaring edge of her colored top and brought her arms up to fight 
her bead through the neck-hole, revealing to Maryon's interested gaze 
that the black-haired girl's breasts were as shallow and oval as ever, 
except that now the dark areolas were larger and bumpier, and the hard 
black nipples, excited by the draw of nylon over them, were longer and 
more pointed, though as slender as before, like slim fingers of carbon. 
Lifting her cheeks up one at a time, still fixing Maryon with a half-
concealed took of antic amusement, Karen pulled her pajama pants out 
from under, with one swift movement bent forward and slid them down her 
legs, threw them floatingly aside, and stood up, arms and legs 
stretched wide, back arched. "Voil!" she cried, with a laugh, 
delighting in her total exposure. As on the last time Maryon'd seen her 
naked, the girl's crotch was shaved clean, as were her legs, belly and 
arms. Her natural ivory coloring was excitingly enhanced by the soft 
green light that shone on it.

Karen posed for a minute, shaking her head to let the long black hair 
sweep about her, pulling out the pins in it till it hung to her 
buttocks, then, without further ado, stepped forward and embraced 
Maryon, putting her arms about waist and neck, presenting her lips to 
be kissed, turning her face up to the taller, younger girl's. With a 
twitch of her hip she slid one thin thigh between Maryon's, boldly 
pressing it against her gold-haired Venus-mount and rubbing it up and 
down as her tongue slid into the opened mouth above her.

At first it seemed strange to Maryon to be kissing so passionately 
another girl, but in seconds her own arms came about the other slimmer 
body and pressed it to hers, jamming her tongue against the flickering 
dart that probed her, closing her big blue eyes and letting ha emotions 
take over. Her hands roved over the slim back and dropped to cup the 
cool hard balls of Karen's provocative ass and lifted the girl up by 
the letting her fingers ride into and explore the soft-walled crack 
they found there. After a hot, swaying while, Karen shook her little 
head and pushed away. "Come," she said, "let's sit down a while." Both 
girls were breathless as they sat on the edge of the bed.

Karen slid her hand along a fake leopard skin and took Maryon by the 
wrist, saying nothing. The blonde girl drew her knees up, mashing them 
against her breasts, while Karen peered at her with a grin on her 
elvish face, her eyes traveling over Maryon's body as if she wanted to 
drink it all in, her lips half-parted as she softly breathed.

Neither spoke for a while and the muffled, draped room heard only the 
sound of their breathing. Against her knees Maryon could feel her 
nipples touching the soft down and she gently swayed so as to increase 
the sensuous contact. Then Karen broke the heady silence.

"C'mon, kiddo, now's the time to eat me," she said. Slowly letting her 
body uncurl, she lay back on the colorful bed, her hairless green-
tinted body stark under the subdued lights, her over-slender legs 
parted and hanging down to the floor, her bent attitude thrusting up 
her hip-bones and pelvis, pools of shadow at the base of her belly. As 
Maryon hesitated, she quivered the muscles of her completely defoliated 
quim and languidly put her folded arms under her head, willing to be a 
voluptuous victim. The quiver-lipped hole at her crotch, all one shade 
of pale green, seemed to beckon Maryon. Still she hesitated, fascinated 
by the sight. Karen wriggled her hips, then reached down with one hand 
and, scissoring her fingers, parted her labia, spreading her legs wide 
against the soft-rugged floor. "There it is, Miss Maryon Alysun," she 
said. "Come on and do me good ... and I'll do the same for you."

Slowly Maryon slid off the bed and onto her knees between Karen's slim 
legs. Head down, she put her hands on the thin thighs and with her 
thumbs pried apart the naked green-white lips. She felt strangely 
hypnotized ... repelled and attracted at the deliberateness of it all 
... no hot furious moment as she'd been caught up in at her initiation. 
Gradually, with open mouth, she lowered her head, letting her hands 
slide up to cover the hard-cored little nipples that played against her 
Palms like jumbo-sized rubber erasers. Already, before her lips were on 
it, the bare taut skin of Karen's cunt was flickering and the vulva 
pubated in anticipation. Now that she was thinking about what she was 
doing, Maryon thought that the hot mouth would taste odd, perhaps even 
repulsive, but it didn't, she discovered. It was clean and firm and 
from it came the lingering odor of bath-salts. Without further 
hesitation, she leaned in and pushed her rosebud lips against ovalled 
cunt and delivered a kiss.

Then, intoxicated with the whole atmosphere, she jammed her mouth in, 
forcing the thighs apart with her cheeks, and started licking. She 
stuck her tongue out and hardened it, wriggling it about until the 
other girl began to gently moan. A spark of pleasure at her power 
clenched her eyes and she went at it even stronger, delving deeper, 
teasing her tongue up and down the moist slit, going faster, stopping, 
starting again at a slower pace, washing from side to side, flickering 
in and out like a snake's fangs, while the girl above her groaned and 
snorted. "Get my clit, Kiddo. Chew on my clit, lover," Karen whispered 
hoarsely. Maryon moved her head up a bit until she felt the hard 
protrusion peeking out of the smooth, wet surfaces of the soft vulva, 
then, drawing back her lips, took the little nodule between her dainty 
white teeth, nibbling like a rabbit on a stalk of lettuce.

"Oooooohhhhhh! Oooooohhhhhh! Baaaaabbbbbbyyyyy!" she heard above her. 
With thumbs and forefingers she squeezed and plucked at the hard 
rubbery nipples and felt against her arms and cheeks and forehead the 
long shivering shudders that racked the out-stretched Karen's slender 
young body. She roiled the third nipple between her teeth, smelling the 
sweet-sour smell of the liquid oozing out against her full red lips. 
From time to time she altered her action on Karen's clitoris, sometimes 
sucking lightly at it like a straw, sometimes letting its slight length 
pull back down between her teeth by its own elasticity, which set her 
palpitating patient to fresh inventions of chants and chirrups.

Karen was a quivering mass of hot olive jelly under her plunging, 
plundering mouth. The hard, tight-skinned hips rode up and the thin 
thighs clamped her hot, flushing cheeks. "Keep going, lover," the 
hoarse voice said, "don't stop-don't stop-goddamn it. Don't slow down, 
honey! Just keep going-so I can-can come-can-can-can oorrrbbbrrhhhmm 
COME!"

Maryon burrowed deeper and now, relentlessly, as though trained by 
years of perfecting practice, she began a new, more rigorous 
manipulation of Karen's trigger-clit, pulling at it evenly and letting 
it tuggingly slide free, gripping its tiny base and tonguing its tender 
tip before letting it struggle free once more. Almost immediately the 
bare-cunted girt reached climax, lifting her legs and wrapping them 
about Maryon's neck, pulling her deep and hard against her crotch tin 
the blonde tasted spiced milk on her tongue, smelt the ripe odor of 
toasted cheese in her distended nostrils, and felt gluey cream on her 
trembling chin.

Presently the vise about her neck relaxed and Karen's hands came 
wandering down to bury themselves in her golden curls.

"Come on up here, baby," Maryon heard softly, and obediently she 
climbed up over the other girl's slim body till she lay extended on it, 
nipple to nipple, crotch to crotch. Again Karen's mouth searched for 
hers, and together the two drained out with kisses the residue of the 
black-haired girl's royal honey.

It was some time later when Karen gently pushed her off. "Your turn 
now, baby." she said, and herself adjusted the bigger, younger girl's 
body on the animal skins as she had formerly lain, arms behind head, 
legs apart and touching the floor so that Maryon could feel the sweet 
strain of her breasts and belly as they arched. Then fragile fingers 
boldly brushed aside the coiled, sweaty hairs of her golden cunt-
concealer and pulled her tender lips aside. As the deft manipulations 
went ahead, her mind took her back ... to memories of Mike's fingers 
and the other boys who'd fumbled there in fascination. But Karen, true 
daughter of her own female knowledge, knew exactly how to arouse her 
and bring her up to new plateaus of premeditated pleasure. Ripples of 
sheer, unashamed delight ran through her as, the penetrating fingers 
carefully removed, she recognized the first touch of tender lips, and 
she trembled with delicious and unencumbered disregard as Karen's 
velvet tongue cylindered itself like a hummingbird's and darted with an 
adept's craft into the central core of her being.

Her own moans and little cries of gratification were softer than her 
friend's had been, and instead she shuddered from her mouth, the muted 
sounds sending subtle shocks through her glowing body as she threshed 
her golden head in utter abandon. Soon hands were sliding lovingly up 
and about her breasts, and fingers toyed delicately with her nipples, 
twisting them this way and that and pulling on them till it seemed 
they'd be lifted from her.

And then the teeth! On that undernourished little node of gristle that 
was her clitoris! That few boys had treated with commiserating respect, 
and none with ultimate expertise!

Karen teased and tormented it with tiny nips and tender tugs, munching 
with her mouth the while on the extrusions of her labia, until she 
could stand the passive role of recumbency no longer. Already gold 
shoots of glory were suffusing her groin and growing longer shafts to 
fickle the insides of her tits and scorch the relaxed sphincter muscles 
of her hot-hearted rectum. With one easy, graceful movement she threw 
herself forward, sitting up, then leaning down over that black head 
until her quivering nipples were entangled in the greenish-shiny-jet-
sleek net. She lifted her feet from the floor and flung her legs over 
Karen's shoulders, bending her knees back and out to force that 
searching face smothering into her crotch, crossing her arms hard 
against the back of Karen's neck so that there was no way this epitome 
of ecstasy could escape her. Eagerly, her ass sliding off the bed, she 
ground her writhing hips and silkily slid her flexing thighs against 
the hot satin cheeks of this girl, her friend, who was at the same time 
her slave and mistress.

Closing her eyes hard so that tears nearly came, she felt Karen respond 
with lusher ravings and frantic daggerings of her flexible strong 
tongue. The hard jaws were forced open to their fullest extent and she 
felt two rows of teeth rowel the soft flesh that contained the only 
part of her that was! While hot on her belly and heavily on her ears 
fell Karen's harsh and excited snorting as the girl tried to bite and 
chew her way through Maryon's skin and bone to get to her vagina's far 
end.

Then down came the old familiar barriers and a wealth of gloriously 
glowing golden moltenness cleansed the agonizing ache of expectancy 
from her convulsing cunt and she collapsed, folded over the limp head 
of the other girl, hugging her like a dear doll between her thrumming 
thighs.

And presently they made gentler love, marveling over the clefts and 
contours of each other's bodies, discovering with soft exclamations the 
differences and samenesses each of each.

Later that night, as Lois came falter-footedly home, Maryon, helping 
her mother to undress and go to bed, found herself wonderingly 
wondering what it would be like to find herself in the arms of this 
woman who, once, must surely have cradled and caressed her.



Sixteen Years Old


Her infatuation with the new world opened up to her by Karen carried 
Maryon through several months but, when the older girl's parents moved 
further out from the City, she lost touch. And somehow she couldn't 
quite bring herself to form another Lesbian attachment. It had been ... 
an experience; something to be remembered and put at the back of her 
mind somewhere. Sapphism was, after all, only a middle course between 
masturbation and masterbation, or so it seemed to her. Nothing seemed 
to work completely for her, neither self, boys, or girls. Perhaps the 
fall, when she would be attending Glenville High, would bring fresher 
contacts, more mature possibilities ...?

But in her classmates at least, she was to be disappointed. Perhaps 
because she'd attended a nonpublic school hitherto, perhaps because of 
her natural inward-turning nature--whatever the reason, she found 
herself cut off from the mainstream of school activities and for her 
part regarded with some degree of contempt the somewhat unsophisticated 
attitudes of her peers.

Though she studied hard on her own, her results in tests were poor, and 
before the semester was over she was marked as bottom of her class. So 
it was that on a bleak, overcast December afternoon she found herself 
reporting to the small private office of Mister Hugh Jenner, her Room- 
and History-Teacher. 'Old Gelid Jenner' they called him behind his 
back, more from alliteration than accuracy. He was a short, balding man 
in his early forties, with disappointed eyes behind his rimless glasses 
and a tag of beard on his chin. His temper knew only two moods ... 
sarcastic, biting humor and long-suffering, patronizing forbearance. As 
she stood outside his door in her newly-bought, latest-fashionable 
boots and brown imitation leather micro-mini-skirt, with sleeveless 
fringed vest to match over a bright yellow turtle-necked sweater, with 
her books in their strap under one arm, Maryon brushed the fall of 
blonde hair which she was letting grow again back off her forehead, 
tired after the day's studies, and wondered which of the two moods he 
would be in. Maybe, now that school was out and no noisy sounds ringing 
through the empty corridors, Jenner would be calmer, more human. She 
hoped so. She was in no mood herself to be upset by some trivial point, 
and delayed from getting home to a warm house and a hot meal. With a 
quick look around to see that the place was deserted, she put the books 
down and ran both hands quickly, strongly up her legs to smooth into 
place her warm pantyhose.

Bending over thus, she was surprised when Jenner's throaty voice behind 
her said: "Hhhrrhhmm! Miss Swelt, is it? Come in, come in."

He must have opened the door without making a noise, the quiet creep, 
she thought, a flush mantling her cheeks as she realized that her short 
skirt, hiked higher as she'd bent over, must have afforded him an 
excellent view of her sleek upper thighs. At least! If such views 
interested him, that is! She trotted dutifully behind him in her high-
heeled brown boots and sat in the chair he indicated, alongside his 
desk. He finished straightening out some papers that lay on it, then 
looked at her.

"Um ... Maryon, is it? Yes ... well ... uh, Maryon, we don't seem to be 
making very good progress our first semester, do we?"

Followed, to her boredom, by a recital of her marks, her attitudes as 
reported by her other teachers, and the areas in which she might hope 
to make an improvement. She let the words run past her ears, not in the 
least way interested, until suddenly she realized that he was 
interested--but in her figure rather than her marks, for he couldn't 
seem to keep his eyes off the knee of her swinging crossed-over leg or 
the bulge of her sweater-bound breasts as, when she shifted herself 
uneasily, they brushed aside the narrow lengths of her loose-hanging 
vest. Mentally she sat up and began taking notes. She knew she was 
smart, and didn't much care either for the rigid system of scholastic 
scorekeeping or the supposed value of it once she quit school and 
applied herself to a career. But ... But! But if she could get herself 
upgraded through Mr. Hugh Jenner without too much degrading of herself 
then ... why she'd make a little bit of effort to win his 
commendations. With, she hoped, pleasure! She waited until he'd 
finished then leaned forward, putting a forlorn look on her face and 
bridling her breasts so that they hung enticingly out from her. "But I 
do try, Mister Jenner ... I really do. I'm not stupid, it's just that I 
don't seem to do too well in the tests. I know that I know all that 
stuff."

"Well, I think you do too, Maryon," said Jenner, the eyes behind his 
glasses still riveted on her heavy-breathing bust. "I think that you're 
a smart girl, from what I've seen of you. And I think it's a pity that 
it's the test marks that count."

"Oh, you do, Mister Jenner!?" said Maryon, sitting up straight and 
uncrossing her legs. "Well then, perhaps I can come to some arrangement 
with you. That is, if you really think that the test marks don't do me 
justice." She had determined on a bold course of action.

"Why, er, yes. I really think that in your case your knowledge, 
generally, surpasses that of most of the students, and that the system 
of testing shows you to unfair advantage."

"Then I propose a bargain with you, Mister Jenner," said Maryon, 
getting up. "Just wait a moment, please." She walked to the door, 
keeping her thighs close together so that her ass-action would be 
enhanced beneath the brief brown-leather skirt. Puzzlement was on his 
face, mixed with a modicum of consternation, as she returned to the 
desk, pulled the chair nearer to him, and sat down. She leaned an elbow 
on the corner and regarded him intently from out her big blue eyes. 
"Mister Jenner," she said, after a moment, "in your history lessons 
you've rapped a lot about the way the world is run. Sometimes the 
people want to take some power from the King or whoever's running 
things. Sometimes a country wants to rip off another so's to get 
something the others have and they don't. Lots of times more advanced 
countries would take over a defenseless one and make it a colony, so's 
they could get markets for their goods. Now, in your lessons you've 
made a point of saying that in all these kinds of cases it would've 
been much simpler if, instead of quarreling and going to war about it, 
people would've just sat down and discussed things, making a trade of 
what they wanted against what they could get. Like the people give the 
King the money he needs, and make him a guarantee, and in return they 
get some power for themselves. Or, two countries get together and set a 
fair price for whatever the second one has that the first one wants. 
And the same thing goes with the colony bit, the big country gives the 
colony-one some help to get on its feet, and in return they get 
concessions, or whatever, for oil or gold ... the things they wanted to 
invade 'em for. Right? Bargaining is better, right? If two countries, 
or two people, sit down long enough they'll each find that the other 
has something they want, even though the thing they are giving doesn't 
mean that much to them. Maybe that's not too clear. What I'm trying to 
say is that well ... say that in Vietnam they need an industry to bring 
money in, and give 'em employment and like that, and they decide 
electronics would be a good thing for them, like it is in Japan, huh? 
And we, America, want to get them to go along with, uh, the American 
Way ... you know, our kind of Democracy. So, instead of getting into a 
war about it, we send them a few thousand electronic experts--you know, 
we've got a lot of 'em out of work, now--and the Government, our 
Government, pays them a good salary. Well, y'see ... the men we send 
would be happy with the American Way because they're getting paid good 
by the Government, and so without being taught about propaganda and all 
that they'll just naturally be good, uh, spokesmen? And the Vietnamese 
are getting what they want, without a lot of official crap being laid 
down on 'em? And we save money 'cause we don't have all those soldiers 
to pay and bullets to throw away, and they save money 'cause they don't 
have to sell themselves to get the aid, or pay for the education of 
thousands of engineer students in other countries? Seems to me they 
both get something for nothing--whatever Mister Griswold in Physics 
says about the conservation of matter and energy and all that-and they 
get it because what they give is also a benefit to them. Right?"

Jenner was confused, obviously. But he thought for a moment, then said: 
"Well, Maryon, it's not quite so simple as that, of course. And I doubt 
that Roger would quite go along with your Physics' theory. But, yes, 
there is something in what you say. People should be able to exchange 
things, and bargain for what they want without losing pride or getting 
into a fight over it."

"Right on!" said Maryon, taking a deep breath. It was now or never. 
Perhaps after all she could make use of her rather special background. 
She reached forward and took his left hand as it lay beside her and, as 
she spoke, placed it on the warmth of her round, pantyhosed knee. 
"Mister Jenner, I want to get better marks and I want to try some sex 
with an older man. You, I kinda reckon, wouldn't mind getting it in me, 
if you could get away with it, and you wouldn't really think it'd be 
cheating to give me the marks you think I deserve. What about an 
exchange? Is it a bargain?"

Her blue eyes flashed and sparkled as she spoke, and she fought hard to 
keep the color out of her cheeks. It was the first time in her life 
she'd been so outspoken, and really put it on the line, to herself or 
anyone. Jenner in his turn went pale and pink and pale again. He 
swallowed hard.

"You mean ... you mean, Miss Swe ... Maryon, that you want me to-to-" 
he broke off in confusion. On her knee his fingers tightened.

Maryon let herself smile intimately at him, comradely, with the 
suspicion of a wink. She remembered the tales of his wife that were 
told around the school ... her dried-up sexual charge being devoted to 
good works and social responsibility. A childless couple, Maryon bet 
that it was mainly because of the woman's hang-ups. Bet also that the 
poor man had never had it but in the modern-conventional, strictly 
head-to-head, face-to-face, male-uppermost style. By the wrist she slid 
his hand over her knee and pushed it between her crossed lower thighs, 
trapping it. "You know what I mean," she said. "I'll trade my body--and 
eagerly, too, not like a ten-minute trickster--for your influence. Mark 
me higher, and do your best to get some of the other teachers to do the 
same, but not so's you'll screw things up, naturally. Here ... I'll 
give you a quick sample and, whatever happens after, I'll expect at 
least a B on my next History paper. And don't worry about any thing, 
I've been on the Pill for months. See, how about this ...?"

Maryon had already felt his hand growing hotter through the thin nylon 
and had observed, with secret amusement, how the front of his pants 
bulged where his gray suit jacket fell back from him. Moving herself a 
couple of inches forward and leaning at the same time, she made sure 
that his fingers were comfortably, comfortingly, snugged in the hot 
hidden haven of her crotch. With her own left hand she reached over the 
comer of the desk and spun his swivel chair a quarter to his left so 
that he directly faced her, then walked her slender fingers up his 
tight-clad gray thigh until she could flick the swelling growth at the 
base of his belly. She swiftly unzipped him, and, after a moment or two 
of struggling with the slit of his Jockey shorts, managed to grip his 
prick and pull it out. She was inwardly delighted at its size and 
length. He was uncircumcised and his thin foreskin was red with a satin 
sheen. As she touched him there, appraisingly running a long-nailed 
finger down its underside and noting with approval its powerful jerk, 
she felt his fingers stir on her thigh, spreading to span the warm 
sector of nyloned flesh. His unaccustomed hard-on through his shorts 
made the rubbery pink-and-white sausage lean over toward the right, and 
when she grasped it firmly and set it straight, she felt him wince.

"Oh ... that hurt you, didn't it?" she said in a soft and sympathetic 
voice. "Maryon'll fix that for you."

Before he could think to protest--her mind was set on overcoming him 
with surprise and speed so that it would later be too late to change 
his mind--she stood up, feeling with mounting excitement the jab of his 
unexpecting fingers as they were driven momentarily against her pliable 
young pubic hummock ... slid his hand down between her close nylon 
thighs beneath the upridden skirt, then stepped over his sprawling legs 
and sat on his right knee, putting her left arm about his neck to hold 
herself in place. Putting his left hand again on her thigh she took 
hold of his prick with her right, then leaned in to kiss his astonished 
lips. At first he seemed to resist, but soon his right arm came about 
her waist and he responded, quickly opening his mouth as his nubile 
young instructress nimbly attacked his teeth with her tongue, demanding 
obvious entrance.

At the same time she ran her circled fingers down his broad length 
until they reached the cloth of his pants, then slid them in and 
underneath the material, forcing it back until she could grope through 
the slit of the shorts and, finally, grasp his warm and fleshy balls, 
using her slim wrist as a shoehorn to give him an easier purchase for 
his climbing cock's convenience. A groan went through him as she 
clutched his cocciferous cockles and gently squeezed, but he abandoned 
his mouth to her roving tongue and his left hand dragged higher beneath 
her skirt. She wriggled her butt provocatively on his leg, continuing 
her squeezing tactic until she felt he was near ready, then slid off 
and down to the floor between his legs. On this first occasion she 
wasn't too concerned about her own pleasuring--that could wait for all 
the other times she now knew were to come her way--but to give him 
something to do she took both his unresisting hands and, not without a 
lot of difficulty and squirming about, allowed him to slide them down 
underneath the tight neck of her sweater and so, beneath her bra, onto 
her breasts. It was not very comfortable and the blood mounted to her 
face as she half-strangled, but she didn't expect to be long in this 
position. Jenner's bent-forward attitude hindered her head movements, 
too, but she drew in a great breath and, without delay, put her mouth 
over the end of his prick.

At the back of her mind was the thought that this was the first male 
she'd ever operated on who was possessed of a regular foreskin, and it 
pleased her, in a quiet way, that there was something else about his 
cock, apart from its sheer size in that department, to intrigue her. 
But she didn't want to spend too much time on this occasion in 
rapturous investigation. In all of her sexual adventures, this one was 
to be entirely a job of work.

She began to move her soft red lips slithering from side to side about 
the outer covering of him, at the same time reaching out with her teeth 
until she could grip him just around the distended slot which her 
inquisitive tongue had found for her. She now drove her tongue into 
that slot, narrowing its point and probing as if she were putting a 
finger into a glove, feeling him give quick little jerks against her 
right hand. Encouragingly she squeezed his balls delicately with her 
left. She let the air come whistling in through the sides of her mouth 
about him and sucked juicily through her own saliva so that the sound 
would further stimulate him to quick action. Feeling the veins along 
the length of his cock beginning to stand out from its rubbery flesh, 
she kept her dainty white teeth close to the dome and pushed her head 
down, so that the loose skin of his cock-hood rode up against them and 
was pushed down from the slick surface beneath as neatly as a peeled 
banana. A riper, more cheesier taste crept into her mouth, a little 
over-strong, but gamely she pressed on, letting her long tongue lick 
and lave about his flesh so that the end of his prick floated around 
her mouth against the restraining guards of her teeth, propelled by the 
flat of her twisting little taster. In the cup of her left palm she 
felt his testicles harden and begin to draw themselves up from the 
bottom of his pouch and so, opening her jaws to their widest extent, 
she dropped her head downward until she could palpitate her throat 
muscles about his naked cock-head.

Under the confines of her bra and sweater, Jenner's hands clutched at 
her breasts as though he were trying to hold a half-dozen of eggs in 
each, but so much was this an intellectual exercise with Maryon that 
her nipples were hardly stirred by his clumsy endeavors.

She started to gulp and chew at him, pulling in her cheeks, grinding 
her lower jaw-bone, using the whole mechanism of her mouth on him like 
a horse in a hay-bag, using the suction of her strangled throat to draw 
him off. After a few seconds of hold-back during which she could sense 
his conscious mind trying to will him not to impregnate the fresh-faced 
flush-cheeked golden head buried in his belly like a sophomore 
succubus, his gray-suited ass sank a little lower in his chair and his 
rampant cock blew off in her as strong as a sounding whale. A thick and 
viscous scalding stream broke its force fiercely at the back of her 
throat and she silently gasped and gulped as he involuntarily snatched 
one hand from her trapped tit and spanned the top of her head so that 
she was forced to further engulf his dick and swallow his long-pent 
load. His prick strained and locked and surgingly swelled in the 
sudden, shock-shriven salivalessness of her mouth and the steady, 
relentless pumping of his semen-shed stones pulsated between her hand 
and her chin.

After a while she felt his prick beginning to go limp in her, the hand 
on her head relaxed, and against her forehead his breathing was 
radiated through his belly, ragged and uneven. Jerkily, awkwardly, 
slowly-quickly the history teacher withdrew his other hand from her 
breast and she sat back on her heels, head down, getting her breath 
back, holding his laces for support. A quick look at his face showed 
him to be in horrified shock so, putting her own feelings aside, she 
thrust herself to her feet, plunked herself down across his legs, threw 
both arms about his neck, and passionately began to kiss him, making 
sure that some of his just-spent cum was painted around the inner walls 
of his mouth to clench the ceremony. She finally managed to drive 
conscience and caution from him so that he responded to her lavish, 
lascivious embraces with the unheeding hotness of a horny hermit.

Maryon had won the battle and the war with one masterly stroke and many 
mistressly ones.

Though in no way did his conduct in the classroom betray it, Jenner was 
infatuated with this fantasy girl. So surely, indeed, was his secret 
erotic imagination inflamed that he made no attempt to take their 
various encounters out of the context of the 'staying-after-school' 
situation that had started them, for which Maryon gave many thanks. No 
pretense of 'love' ... no shame-faced offers of money, or gifts, or 
motel-meetings ... no brazen 'let-me-take-you-home-and-introduce-you-
to-my-wife' or 'I-have-to-attend-a-seminar-up-State-why-don't-you-come-
along-with-me' madnesses.

Maryon deliberately catered to his long-frustrated fantasies, play-
acting sometimes the role of little-girl-student, sometimes the bizarre 
mistress of his imagination. Before long she had him perfectly trained 
to be her perfect lover to her perfected requirements and satisfaction. 
She made sure, to receive full benefit from his side of their bargain, 
that whether their fond fornications were frenzied or frivolous, they 
were inevitably frequent and full of lingering flavor.

She always tried to surprise him, making no commitment in advance as to 
exactly when their next clandestine cockunted caper would be. Once she 
shocked him when, waiting till school was out, she went to the rest 
room, stripped to her boots, put her clothes in a bag, tightly belted 
her white trench coat about her, then went to him in his room, 
immediately dropping the coat so that for the first time he saw her 
completely nude. Pulling him to his feet, she pulled his clothes off, 
then rubbed and stroked his dick until at last, unable to resist his 
impulses, he forced her backward across his desk and ravished her 
against her pretended remonstrances, her boots kicking him wildly on 
his backside until at last, carried away, she dug her heels into the 
crack of his fleshy ass and pulled his cock into her gaping loins.

On another long-remembered occasion, she brought to school her old St. 
Joan's uniform, now at least three sizes too small for her well-
developed figure and, changing into this in the rest room, came to him 
in the guise of a nave, acquiescent and unknowingly nymphomaniacal 
schoolgirl about to be punished for her supposed sins. The only change 
she'd made in her former much-accustomed costume was that she'd ripped 
off for the occasion a pair of Lois' fancy high-heeled black shoes. The 
straining height these gave her, together with the shortness of her 
brown, blue-checked skirt, thrust her smooth, creamy, light-tanned legs 
into unwonted prominence, while her bra-less breasts stretched the 
sheer, thin silk of her ruffle-fronted blouse until the buttons were 
about to burst off it, which fact her neat-knotted brown-and-blue 
striped tie helped to conceal. Her white, ribbed knee stockings now 
only just covered her calves and the skirt was tight about her hips, 
forcing her jaunty honeydew melon-halves of ass enticingly together so 
that, as she walked to his room, Maryon was automanipulated to randy 
readiness by the satiny overlapping of her inner thighs. Beneath it the 
brown panties hugged her as close as rinds to fruit and tingled her 
breathlessly at waist and crotch by the time-tightened tourniquets of 
elastic. She'd let her silky blonde hair hang down, with a pair of eye-
matching blue clips behind her ears to show them off beneath the wide-
brimmed hat that now sat back on her head with its strap beneath her 
chin, and touched up her lips with a Chinese red stick to make of them 
a harlot's parody of cherub-like charm. Her blue blazer necessarily 
unbuttoned, she stood before her Master in simulated submission.

Occasionally she had to step aside from her role so as to guide him in 
his poverty of perversion. For instance it was only when she remembered 
her initiation rites and the pleasure that she received from her 
spanking that she re-realized the pleasure it must afford to the 
spanker, and so was able to suggest to Jenner that this might be a 
suitable 'punishment' for her as a wrong-doing school-girl. He needed 
no more than the hint to get him going.

After berating her for a number of imagined 'crimes', during which 
monologue she stood with eyes dutifully cast down, he pretended to find 
a new offense, in that she wasn't conforming to the dress-code of the 
school. Swiveling his chair sideways, he told her to stand in front of 
him, parting his legs so that she was between his ankles. "I do believe 
that, wretched little girl that you are, you're not wearing a 
brassiere!" he declared. "Show me whether I'm wrong or not, Maryon!"

With fingers that really were trembling, though more from a morbid 
excitement arising from shivery shame at what she was doing than from 
actual fear of the consequences, the demure-eyed blonde loosened the 
knot of her tie slightly, then began to unbutton her frilly-fronted 
white blouse from the top down, halting every now and then as though 
asking whether any further. But always an impatient nod of his head 
would drive her to the next button until finally she must draw the 
garment out of her tight waistband, undo the last button, and let the 
thing rest on her heaving bosom. While she stood with hands behind her, 
he took hold of the blouse's edges and pulled them apart, so that her 
bare and beautiful breasts in their creamy-white glorious wealth were 
open to his gaze and touch. "You see!" he said, indicating her bounty 
in such a way that his fingers stroked her nipples to full and 
expectant erection. "Since you seem to be shameless I will try to shock 
you into some sense of shame. Come closer!"

When her bare knees were touching the edge of his seat and she could 
feel the warmth of his calves against hers, Jenner took hold of the 
blouse-hem, fastened the lowermost button, and tucked the thing into 
her skirt again--not forbearing to tickle her flanks and fondle her 
snug-pantied rear end--but this time in such a way that the frilled 
white edges circled outside her breasts, pressuring them closer to each 
other and forming a perfect frame that ran in a diamond shape from the 
straining top button and tie-knot to follow the curves of her breast's 
outer contours, run slightly, tightly, under their blossoming overlap, 
to meet at her waistline, her cute little hole of a navel lending a 
shadowed period to the erotic design. Maryon's pulse began to race as 
he pretended to arrange her more shamelessly, jiggling her boobs on his 
warm palms as he pushed them up and apart with his thumbs caressing the 
satiny skin on their inner sides.

Forgetting himself for a moment, he lowered his mouth to their centers 
and excitingly sucked and scraped at her hard red nipples' length and 
tips so that she was soon eager for him to continue her harassment.

Presently, adopting a "this'll-hurt-me-more-than-you' tone, he cleared 
the top of his desk and personally laid her out to his satisfaction. 
Getting her to face one comer of it, he went around the other side and, 
taking her cool hands, pulled her forward until, slowly, her aroused 
nipples touched the cold leather of the top. He made her jostle there a 
while, knowing this would add to her randiness, making sure they 
scraped the surface, then lower she was brought until she felt her 
breasts flattening against the chilled desk. He pulled at her wrists 
until she could just grasp the far side of the desk, which position 
lifted her lower body until she was on straining tip-toe, while the 
comer of the wood pressed pleasurably-painfully on the front of her 
pelvic girdle, sending sweetly sick shocks up through her belly and 
into her breathless breasts.

Now he went around behind her and stood for a moment, and she knew he 
was surveying the pert upward thrust of her posterior, the drawn-up 
short brown skirt that almost revealed it, and the long, slender length 
of her legs as they ran childishly out of the high-stretched white 
socks and enticingly, palely, into the shadows of the skirt's peak. To 
add to his pleasure, she wriggled her ass ... and found to her pleased 
surprise that this sent fresh waves of arousing anticipation through 
her slim frame. Deliberately, taking his time, Jenner caught hold of 
the hem of her skirt and lifted it up over her back, for the first time 
seeing the curvaceous casing her old brown school panties gave his 
victim's buttocks, cutting into the deep valley between her cheeks and 
revealing in every last intimate detail their dimples and rack-
stretched planes and hollows on their otherwise perfectly symmetrical 
globes. He left her like this for a minute and she was about to turn 
her anxious head to see or ask what he was doing when she felt him up 
close to her again, and realized with a fresh thrill that he'd 
stripped, at least part way, for his bare legs were against hers and a 
soft-heavy truncheon was bouncing against her butt. Then his hands were 
up under her skirt and his fingers hooked into the top of her panties, 
pulling slowly down so that again she grew excited as the tight elastic 
slid between her belly and the skirt and reluctantly left her chubby 
cheeks to the caress of the air. As the panties were pulled down past 
her pubic mound where it rested so excruciatingly delightfully on the 
desk's corner she moaned softly, already manipulated to the point where 
she thought that a mere touch would send her into orgasm. But she 
contained herself and let him continue.

The brown panties were now swiftly drawn down her aching legs and over 
her feet, and now her bare ass was fully exposed in all its vulnerable, 
up-and-outhrust whiteness beneath the rim of brown skirt. Maryon 
flinched at the thought of the expected blows on her trembling cheeks 
... and flinched again for a moment as the first open-handed slap 
descended an her and drove her thinly-covered clitoral concavity 
against the hard and pointed corner of the desk. But then, as wonderful 
waves of weirdly oooohh!-oooohh!-oooohh!-bringing sensation swam 
powerfully through her stretched body, she began to relax and enjoy. 
There was something strangely intoxicating about being so wantonly 
exhibited in this way, for she knew that between her legs the wet and 
widening red lips of her cunt must be presented to Jenner's view, and 
the tight brown hole of her ass had to be staring at him with its 
winking, wrinkle-edged little eye.

She was momentarily disappointed when, after only a dozen or so 
stinging slaps to her ready rump, he ceased, but then a feverish shiver 
of exultation flashed throughout her straining torso and lit her moist 
blue eyes as she felt her ankles firmly grasped and raised so that her 
knees bumped against the desk's edge. He slid her creased thighs a 
little along that same edge until her cuntish arena was free of the top 
altogether, then walked his fingers along the underside of her legs 
from knee to hip-bone, moving in closer to her until she felt his hot 
cock tip titillatingly against her lower lips, anxiously pressing for 
entrance into her. Obligingly she jerked her white little bunny-fanny 
up and drew her knees apart to pull her languishing labia into a more 
easily penetrable portal. At the same time his hand slid down and 
around her smooth thigh to grasp his dick and immediately she quivered 
as his first inward assault began.

She'd never been taken quite like this, she thought, as she discovered 
a fresh thrill in having his fleshy belly repeatedly touch the 
trembling spheres of her spank-flushed buttocks. And when he leaned in 
over her and slid his hands under her breasts, she went wild with 
purely selfish sensation which set her to wriggling and writhing and 
bucking and bumping beneath his welcome weight although, from the 
stronger strokings of his ravaging rod, he probably thought she was 
doing it for his benefit. Her chaotic thoughts could not clearly sort 
the various new diversions this posture offered her, but above all she 
appreciated most the running rub of his bounding bludgeon as it rode 
lovingly against the top of her vaginal sheath instead of its lower, 
more usual layers.

In an ecstasy of exhilaration, Maryon clamped her legs tightly about 
his naked waist and pumped them like a frog's in water, dragging him 
into her clenching, grinding orifice until at last he was driving his 
very roots hard against her firm-fleshed vulva with every frantic 
'thrust. Her nipples were being exuberantly tweaked in the scissoring 
forks of his frenzied fingers and her breasts moved, expertly 
controlled by her mammary muscles, to roll and throb sweatily in his 
hot and fervid embrace. The small crisp sea-anemone at the inner end of 
her volatile vagina extruded its tendrils of sensation to excite them 
both and she droned droolingly against the leather-topped desk as his 
dick thundered dully at the door of her womb. In one sudden, swift, and 
completely coordinated though unconsidered move, the screw-happy 
schoolgirl moved her hands back and down to grasp the sides of the desk 
and began to hurl herself with strong and powerful heaves back against 
the thrusting hips of her enthusiastically invited invader so that as 
her rampaging rump rode whompingly up into his soft belly and the 
tender skin of her breath-ballooning breasts stretched and cushioned on 
the hard heels of his hands, the very desk creaked and groaned in 
seeming unison with their redoubled exertions and trembled beneath them 
as though it, too, were approaching some monumental climax.

As air began to pump damply burping from her uncontrollably lusty cunt, 
Maryon erupted like a suddenly ruptured pipeline, a glorious fountain 
of scalding liquid force-flooding her vitals while fiery red and purple 
and golden rocket-trails exploded in pyrotechnic panoply in the galaxy 
of her eyes. In automatic, unmindful response, her palpitating belly 
bounced her rapidly upon the desk top in Jellowy quavers that bobbed 
her bare butt smackingly upon the man's pitapatating stomach, 
initiating in him the chain reaction that sent ripples of rope riding 
round his pressure-pent prick. Reaching with her aaw!aaw!aaw!-ingly 
distended vulva as though her cunt was a hot and horny clam, Maryon, 
feeling as though her guts would run out of her with the strain her 
sphincter muscles imposed with their auctioning pull, took his 
throbbing cock by the roots and ran her vaginal fingers firmly but 
artfully about and around the entire swelling length until his dick was 
stretched to its ultimate extent within the moist confines of her 
quaggy quim. A last masterful manipulatory munch on his tenderized 
cock-head and ... and ... and ... Maryon's cunt was reamed by flushing 
flashes of roiling boiling ichorous liquid that replaced the marrow in 
her melting bones and filled every last crevice in her crumbling skin, 
inflating her with fumes that crowded out of her gold-capped cranium 
all thought save that of its own impact and implication.

She was fucked to utter fulfillment, as Jenner seemed to be fucking to 
first fruition, and together their complementary convulsions lingered 
them in lusty lostness which wound down only when both were completely 
exhausted, with her contracting cunt slackening as rapidly as his 
tabescing tupper.

Their breathing was harsh and ragged as they lay there, each 
recapturing mentally the recent glories of their mutual experience. 
Jenner was first to get up, pulling his limp prick stickily from her 
slit so that Maryon could feel the cold cum congealing in her cleft. 
The air in the room was chill on her sweat-cooled goose-bumped flaccid 
ass, but she made no move to rise or even cover herself for some time. 
She heard the rustling of his dressing, the hesitant clearing of his 
throat, the inherent embarrassment of the short pause that followed, 
then the quiet unlocking of the office door and its sluthering 
shutting. A quick cold draft cut at her bare buttocks and that, 
finally, drove her to pull herself together, pick up her discarded 
panties, and sneak tight-thighed to the rest room in her rumpled parody 
of a schoolgirl's costume.

This was the best, but not the last, of their clandestine copulations.



Seventeen Years Old


Jenner unexpectedly resigned at the end of the spring semester, giving 
her no straight reason but facing her for their last time with a cold, 
calm expression of regret that she saw to be a lie.

Even when she attempted to go down on him, he pushed her hungry head 
away from his cock and, dismissing her, walked out of the office and 
her life. She shrugged, and surmised that either she'd worn out his 
virility or he'd somehow managed to convert his Jesus-freak of a wife 
to his widened, whimsical versions of sexual expression. If so, Maryon 
thought, then she'd be a better female for it.

"A cultivated cunt is a contented cunt, and a factual fuck in the here-
and-now is worth two moot Blessings in the Beyond!" was the way she 
formulated it.

Things at home were no better. Lois was growing morose and man-hating 
as her various affairs tailed off. A visit to Karen in the summer 
didn't revive the old Lesbian fires for them, and everyone at school 
seemed dull and moronic as she trudged into the fall classes. Though 
Jenner's magic word seemed to have stood her in good stead, upping her 
marks; and though this trend persisted as the summer classes came to an 
end, Maryon found it easier to get along if she acted the part of a 
semi-simpleton, not putting herself forward as the one who knew all the 
answers.

It might have been because of this that she was approached by Wesley 
McAlister to play the role of Daisy Mae in the High School production 
of Li'l Abner. Perhaps because of the dumb blonde implications of the 
part, none of the older girls seemed eager to audition but, for the 
sake of something to do, and because of Wes himself, she immediately 
said she'd try out for it.

Wes was a well-built, handsome black of eighteen who, at six-two, 
refused to go out for basketball and preferred to get involved in the 
Drama Society and head up a rock-blues group called "The Rip-Off Ripon 
Society Band." He was almost the last of a special group from 
Metropolis' ghetto district that Glenville High'd brought voluntarily 
in a couple of years ago as part of an experiment funded by the 
University. He seemed to have lost the ghetto hustling ways and 
antagonism toward the whites that marked his first year, and now was 
quite at ease among his peers, with only an occasional snarling jar in 
his drawl to betray his former deprived background. He quite naturally 
lorded it over the mixed members of his band and was accepted as a 
gifted Director-Producer in the Drama Society. Though he had a small 
coterie of fans, he didn't appear to give his time to any of the girls 
who were wont to hang about the auditorium when he was in rehearsal. He 
seemed eager to have Maryon in the play and fussed about her when she 
was ready to try a reading and audition for him, as though wanting her 
to make a good impression on the others involved who would be hearing 
her. Properly briefed, she went down to the auditorium one evening and 
let herself be shown out onto the stage. To add a touch of authenticity 
to her try, she'd brought, and now wore, a black micro-mini skirt and 
an old, flowered, wide-open-necked blouse and was bare-legged and -
footed. At first her voice was weak, but after a shout came from over 
the blinding footlights for her to speak out, she got together her 
courage and declaimed, putting some little action into it, determined 
not just to stand there with her hands at her side.

When she'd finished there was silence for some moments, and she 
nervously wondered whether she should go off or continue to stand 
there. There must have been some consultation beyond the lights, for 
presently she heard Wes' voice telling her that she'd probably do but 
that he'd have to coach her, and telling her to go back to the star 
dressing room where he'd come see her when he was through.

She found herself to be annoyingly anxious as she sat before the large, 
bulb-surrounded mirror and waited for him. Was it because of the acting 
job? Hardly ... she just wasn't that much interested in theatricals. 
Because of Wes himself, then? Well, he was quite a man, and different 
in so many ways. She was so deep in thought that she didn't hear the 
door open, and was only aware of him when she got a startling reverse 
view of him in the mirror, his white teeth flashing out of the shadows 
that surrounded him. "Glad you could wait, baby," he said, coming 
forward, "Uh, Maryon, one thing. I know this is no Broadway production 
we got going here but, just for the posters, d'you mind if we cut off 
that Swelt bit, and bill you as Maryon Alysun?"

"Sure, Wes, why not? Wes, was I all right out there?"

"Yeah, baby, you'll do, with a few changes. Your voice needs bringing 
up, but you move pretty easy. There's a coupla things I'll have to lean 
on you about. Uh ... let's get you into costume, right off. Then I'll 
start you in. You being the last part to be cast means all the other 
cats are already way out ahead, far as rehearsal's concerned. Yeah, 
guess you'll find your stuff over there, in that box. Ain't much ... 
not too many changes for you in this thing. But that's what the costume 
rental people sent. Let's see what you look like, huh?"

He negligently leaned a lanky leg against the dressing table and 
examined his fingernails. There was no screen in the room. A bit 
hesitantly Maryon went over to the box on the floor, marked 'Daisy 
Mae', and rested it on the stool. Inside were the few items of costume 
and she quickly picked out the large polka-dotted, short-sleeved, off-
the-shoulder red blouse and the short-short, ragged-edged rusty-black 
skirt that went with it. Wes made no move to turn away; on the other 
hand he wasn't making a big thing out of watching her so, turning her 
back, she dropped her own micro-mini skirt and quickly stepped into the 
other, glad that at least she'd worn her clean white nylon bikini 
briefs. The Daisy skirt was tight ... so tight indeed that by the time 
she got it over her butt and hips, the ridges of her briefs showed 
clearly through. Stretching, she plucked her blouse over her head and 
reached for the other. Behind her she heard Wes stir, then he said: 
"Uh, Maryon, that's one of the things I wanted to lay on you. No bra in 
this part. Daisy has to bounce her boobies around some, and you don't 
make it in that bra. Take it off. Here, I'll help."

While her mind was still taking in what he'd said, she felt his hands 
at her back and then he'd unsnapped her white bra and deftly flicked 
its straps over her shoulders and down her arms and off, to be tossed 
on the dressing table. Suddenly, shockingly nude from the waist up, she 
felt his casual eye examining her. "Guess you'll do," he said. "Just 
turn around a minute, baby."

In a dream Maryon turned slowly about, ending up facing him, inwardly 
proud that her breasts needed no support, standing out full and white 
and round and firm from her. "Yeah, like I thought. Y'got a good pair 
of tits on you there, baby." As he spoke he tapped the underside of one 
and nodded approvingly as it quivered. Maryon flushed deeply from her 
forehead to her tingling nipples' tips. There was something ... 
unsexual in his examination, as though she were a prize cow in the 
market. Wes noticed her blush.

"Hey, baby!" he said, with a grin that lit his eyes. "Don't get uptight 
on me, huh? Look ... this is, like the man says, show-biz, and y'have 
to get used to people doing their thing without bothering much about, 
uh, conventional mo-ral-i-ty. Say now, Maryon, you surely ain't no 
virgin baby, hah!?"

"No," she said, shortly, continuing to stand there, annoyed by his 
amusement, highly conscious of her near nudity.

"Didn't think so," he said, turning away to light a cigarette. "Not the 
way you used to screw around after school with old Genital Jenner. Was 
he a good fuck?"

"What d'you mean?" she demanded, angry.

"Aw, c'mon, baby, don't kid old Uncle Wes, now. Maybe th'other kids 
didn't get the word about you two, but I always make a point of finding 
out what the good bright chicks are doing. You two was making it like 
it was going outa style, less I miss my guess. Now, wasn't that about 
the size of it, sweetie? And get into that thing, huh? You don't have 
to keep on standing there with your knockers hanging out. I've seen 
worse and better."

Maryon's head was in a whirl as she dumbly struggled to pull the 
contume blouse on. He was so casual about the whole thing! And she 
bridled at the reference to her breasts. Seen better, indeed! She bet 
she could show him a thing or two if she put her mind to it! She 
decided to play it cool and sophisticated. The blouse was tight, too 
tight, and it was with difficulty that she was able to thrust her 
breasts down under the thin material so that her nipples were covered. 
It felt uncomfortable because the tightness pressed her breasts 
together at the front, despite the shaping of the blouse that should 
have made it cup her. At last she tucked the hem under the already 
strained-to-bursting belt-line of the skirt and, hands on hips, 
presented herself for his inspection again.

"C'mon over to the mirror," he said, laconically, and ambled to one 
side, leaving her in the light. Impersonally he turned her about, 
patted her here and there, tugged at a skirt edge, pulled down the 
shoulder line. "Yeah," he said, after a while. "Looks okay 'cept for 
the front, there. Take it off again, baby, and I'll fix it."

Maryon was getting mad as she stretched, pulling out the hem and 
wrestling the thing over her head with crossed arms, acutely aware of 
the splendid display of her firm fleshed beauties as they escaped their 
prison and bounded free. She was used to being handled, but always it 
had been for the purpose of mutual arousal. Now, she was getting turned 
on by this dressing and undressing, but Wes treated her like a dress-
store dummy. Was he queer or something? Maybe that was it. Well, she'd 
have her fun with him, now, the cool bastard. But he was talking to her 
again even as his strong long black fingers played with the neckline of 
the blouse. "At least you've got the right kind of hair," he said. 
"Won't need no wig. Reckon I can fix you up as you are. Sit down here, 
huh, and let's see what Wes can do."

He dropped the blouse to the dressing table top and, as she docilely 
sat down, came behind her. Teasing him, she lifted up her breasts and 
massaged them, as though they'd gotten crushed by the blouse. His 
fingers went to her hair and quickly took out the pins there, then 
began to fluff and mold the curl and comb, gradually creating a rough 
version of the curly, wavy yellow-golden Daisy Mae hair style. Despite 
her thoughts of him ... contemptuous ... Maryon let herself be thrilled 
by the sight of his black hands working in her hair, contrasting her 
creamy-white nakedness as seen in the mirror to his shiny darkness. 
Flirting with him, she cupped her breasts and raised them toward the 
glass, curving her back in, herself admiring the way she neatly tapered 
into the tight waist. "Don't you like them, Wes?" she asked his 
reflection, fluttering her long fair lashes over her big blue eyes.

He paused, and settled his strong hands on her shoulders, leaning over 
her. "Yeah," he said. "Why? You want to sell 'em or something?"

As he spoke he began to stroke her shoulders and moved in against her. 
With a shock she felt something against her bare back and realized 
that, beneath his pants, Wes' cock was as hard as iron. He was no 
queer! Fascinated now, she watched her image as his stroking, gentle 
hands symmetrically moved on her white body, each finger moving 
separately in a light massage, smoothing her neck, the curves down, her 
shoulders, her upper arms, back to her shoulders and then, at last, 
down to the upper slopes of her breasts, suddenly down through the 
valley that separated them and up underneath, supporting their weight, 
with thumbs now beginning to circle around her roughened areolas, 
spiraling in to the fast-growing dull-red nipples, not quite touching 
them, teasing her ... and most of all she was conscious of the 
blackness of those caressing hands against the cream of her silken 
skin. She was hypnotized by her image ... watching it happen to someone 
else ... barely perceptive of his eyes studying her face.

His steady handling continued, paced to her needs, with only an 
infrequent scrape of thumbnail over nipple-tip to make her gasp. Little 
muscles twitched with familiar signals in her thigh-guarded citadel and 
she knew her briefs must be moist with her inner oils. She was lost to 
desire. She knew well enough that now she could not go back. She would 
do anything to have this loving fondling continue. She closed her eyes 
and tilted her head back to rest it against his hard flat belly. She 
placed her hands over his and uncrossed her legs.

"Don't stop, Wes," she pleaded. "Oh, please don't stop."

"You want a little loving, Daisy Mae?" he asked, and she nodded, a 
flash of amusement going through her at his misnomer of her for her 
role in the play. His hands moved lightly down over her ribcage and for 
a while stroked her flanks with a touch that was not quite a tickle but 
which in any case centered its circling about the twin magic spots that 
always added to her body's wants. She arched herself out like a cat 
fresh in from the cold and moved her shoulders about on his hardness, 
imagining it in her hands. Soon he spanned her waist and urged her to 
stand. She obeyed him like a doll, knowing he would not disappoint her. 
He turned her about and, holding her in his arms, embraced her with 
never-still hands that covered every last tingling inch of her bare 
back, then moved again to her belly and breasts till she hung from him 
weakly, a vessel of want. Now he began to kiss her, nipping her 
earlobes, spooning his tongue into her orifices until each warm laving 
sent a wave of heady warmth through her. He gently kissed her closed 
eyelids, the curve of neck and shoulder, her throat, the dimples of her 
cheeks and chin, the sides of her nose. His hot and steady breath 
thrilled her with its own caress and she let herself hang laxly, borne 
up only by the flexing flow of lusting life he was molding into her 
with his kneading hands. She floated in a sea of sensuality, lived only 
a now-life of longing. Presently she felt her bare foot being raised 
and placed upon the soft worn-cushioned top of the dressing table 
stool, and then his warm large hands clasped her ass and lifted until 
she stood on it. Tremblingly eager for the return of his touch, she 
waited as he carefully slid the ragged skirt down her legs then inched 
her briefs down until the back of them slipped beneath her curving 
buttocks and the front excitingly pressed its tight edge across the 
strong columns of her upper thighs and the protruding muscled mound 
between them.

Leaving them there, he continued with his rain of kisses, moving his 
mouth all about her body, sucking at the magic spots, tonguing the 
shallow grooves of her ribs, burying his nose in her navel, tracing 
with his lips every intimate curve and slope of front, back and sides, 
yet never going below her hips. Entreatingly, blindly, she lifted her 
aching breasts toward Mm in silent urging but instead he drew back, 
cupping her bare white butt with his hands. "What'd'you want, Daisy 
Mae?" he whispered.

"I ... I want you to ... to make love to me ..." she softly replied.

"I'm making love to you now, girl, the bestest, lovingest love you ever 
did have, baby. What more do you want?

She guessed his meaning. "I want you to fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" she 
said, gasping with pleasure at the touch of his fondling fingers on the 
sensitive inside curves of her ass.

"What'd'you went from me?

"Your ... your prick!"

"What kind of prick is it you want, Daisy Mae!"

"Your ... big ... black ... prick ... Wes."

"That's good; that's real good, Daisy Mae. What'll you do to get it?"

"Anything ... anything ... just don't stop loving me!"

"Right on, baby, that's just about what you'll do, okay. You'll work 
you ass off for my black cock, won't you, Daisy Mae!?"

"Anything ... anything!"

"Anything'll be later! Right now, just get back down here and get these 
things off me. Hear, cutey-cunt!?"

Her heart bump-beating with anticipation, her mouth dry with unholy 
excitement, Maryon stepped down off the stool and stood waiting as he 
sat himself down with his back to the mirror and stretched out his arms 
and legs. Swiftly, anxious to have him touch and hold her again, she 
drew the yellow T-shirt over His head, purposely brushing her hard, 
erect nipples over the course matted hair of his chest, ripped off his 
sneakers, then knelt to fumble urgently at his belt and fly. She closed 
her eyes as she pulled off his pants from under his obligingly lifted 
butt, wishing to see him completely naked before she caught sight of 
his manhood. When she was free of his clothing, still kneeling between 
his legs, she opened her eyes.

"Ohohohohohohohoh-ohohoh-oh-oh-oh-oh OH OH OH!!!

Lusciously shiny purpley black, darker and as smooth as an egg-plant 
was his cock, free of foreskin, narrow-domed, sleek as sweat, tapering 
slightly in from the hard rubbery ridge below the dome down to the 
narrow cylindrical stem that jutting out proudly, rigidly from his 
sparse-haired crotch. Two great purple grapes hung from his prick 
beneath, smooth as satin. As she looked at it wide-eyed, he jerked it 
and, though there was no way she could not want it in her, she 
shuddered. Except for the hard ridge near his cockhead it was not big 
about, but its length! Like a child she splayed her fingers, placing 
her pinkies at his dry black root and her thumbs, stretched to their 
limit, along his cockshaft. Beyond their span, his cock reached toward 
her fully another three inches! Eleven inches in all? She shuddered 
again, but a hot surge lit her loins at the thought of this 
magnificence to be swallowed in them.

He leaned forward and took her by the shoulders, beginning His smooth, 
sensuous stroking again. "Kiss it, Daisy Mae. That's all ... for now."

With drugged, amazed eyes, she leaned into him, rubbing the velvet-
skinned hot cock flesh about her face before delivering a tender, 
sideways kiss on it.

"Up, Daisy Mae!" he commanded, running fingers in her ears to make her 
ooh! and tingle. Easing himself further forward so that his sweaty ass 
was hanging off the seat, he brought her in to stand between them, 
touching him, and told her to take her briefs off. She would have gone 
running naked through the streets for him by this time and, not caring 
how humiliating this all was, wriggled her briefs down over her knees, 
rubbing her bare legs against his, while his large black hands roved 
intimately over her dangling breasts. When she was standing up again, 
he put a pair of fingers to her wet-lipped cunt and took one breast 
between his lips, tonguing her nipple and sucking her tit till she felt 
faint with desire, meanwhile lifting one of her feet to rest on his 
thigh, the better to toy with her unprotected blonde pussy. Over his 
shoulder she saw through lust-heavy eyes the sleek shining blackness of 
him as he clung to her pliant white body, and let her hands wonderingly 
entangle themselves in his crisp curled hair, outrageously reveling at 
the sight of their contrasting nude colorings. She pressed closer 
against him, silently willing him to take her now. But instead he 
pulled her up to stand spread-legged over him as he half-sat there, and 
now she could see her full nakedness shamelessly displayed in the 
mirror. The strong hands moved around to her ass and he thrust his head 
up between her thighs, almost lifting her off her feet with the power 
of his hungry, working jaws. She almost cried out with pain as his big 
teeth churned at the soft skin of her belly and the tender tiny ridge 
that ran between her legs but then, as though skillfully aware of every 
last least change he was putting her through, Wes ran a long and 
licking tongue into her fragrant, gaping cunt, throwing his head back 
and moving under her so that, in the all-seeing mirror, she could look 
down over his fine broad nose and actually see the dark and glistening 
organ wash the wallow of her plump pink lips.

The sight of herself so wantonly presented added to her lust and she 
wriggled her hips, rubbing her satin thighs against the roughness of 
his hair, making her labia pucker and kiss him as his lips played about 
them.

And then his tormenting head was withdrawn. "Like what you see, huh, 
Daisy Mae!?" he said from beneath her, licking her cunt juice off his 
lips. "Okay, girl, now you'll really see som'p'n. Jest you stay right 
where you are, I'll be right back. And jam your fucking fingers in your 
little old white piece of meat, huh, to keep it warm and ready for 
Uncle Wes!"

Not daring to disobey lest he change his mind and leave her poised on 
the cliff-edge of her desire, but with a wince of disgust at what she 
was doing, Maryon prised apart the lips of her cunt with one hand, 
smoothing back the tiny golden curls there, and thrust two fingers of 
her other hand between them, bending at the knees to further widen the 
passage. As soon as her vagina felt the loving invasion, it 
automatically sent its messages through her to continue and she watched 
in weird wonderment at herself as she frantically frigged herself in 
full illuminated view of the naked black boy in the shadows behind her. 
But it was not for long, for now he dragged into sight a wooden kitchen 
chair which he placed behind the stool, facing it and the mirror. 
Delicately he sat in it and slid his bent legs beneath her till his 
feet rested on the table-top and again she could see His waving black 
wand framed by the inverted V of her slender white legs. Wes lay back 
with his shoulders low down against the back of the chair, then 
abruptly told her to bend down and grab his ankles. Like this he could 
see, inches from his face, her twin holes, vulnerable and defenseless, 
but instead of lingering, he reached forward and struck her behind her 
straining knees so that they bent and she involuntarily dropped to a 
wide-kneed, forward-leaning crouch. Wes started to play his sinuous 
fingers along the hollowed ridge of her curved spine, letting them at 
last come down to the darker valley between her cheeks and scratch and 
scrabble at her asshole until she felt the sphincter muscles push the 
hard brown ring out toward him. He laughed as he ran a set of scraping 
nails across its itching surface, then reached below her and took hold 
of his long, purple prick. For a while he amused himself by rubbing it 
around between her widespread satin thighs, teasing her with its knob, 
letting it bang and bob against her vulva.

All the while he was slowly spreading his legs, forcing her arms out as 
they gripped his ankles, and straining apart her knees where they 
rested precariously and a bit painfully on the edge of the dressing-
table.

"You want it, Daisy Mae?" he asked, and in the mirror she looked at the 
spectacle of herself and nodded. "You got it, fucker!" he hissed and, 
taking her strongly by the ankles, lifted her up and settled her down 
so that his big black prick was notched into her crying cunt. He 
brought her feet behind her and crossed her ankles on his belly, this 
position forcing her knees wide. He opened his own knees flatly, 
bending them and bringing his ankles a little closer together so that 
his gray soles almost faced each other a couple of feet apart. One fist 
thumped her in the small of the back so that she caved in, and then he 
was easing her down onto his prick until she was firmly ensconced, 
leaving his hands free then to tickle the wrinkled wet bottom cleft of 
her engorged cunt, and electrically spark the mercilessly exposed 
protruding ring of her rearward hole.

"Pump, blonde bitch, let me see you fuck yourself on this black man's 
totem pole," she heard him say, dimly through the rushing blood that 
suffused her ears. In the mirror she could clearly see the length of 
his purple-black lance as it fed itself into the gold-clustered 
glistening pink lips that centered the creamy-white softness of her 
stretched and yawing thighs. Her large, ivory breasts swung gently with 
each heavy breath she took and bounced at every gasp; her belly bounced 
along with them as inch by inch the black prick climbed toward its 
trembling interior target. Her reddened nipples pointed out from her 
and ached for want of handling or contact, but neither came and so she 
began to flex her mammary muscles so as to draw them in and out of her 
bounding breasts' sheaths. About her pink-flushed face her yellow-
golden hair tumbled in beautiful disarray, full and soft and shining in 
the many fights of the mirror's border, while her wide blue eyes roamed 
lasciviously now to eagerly record every last sensational sight of her 
submissive, servicing self as the young blonde cunt impaled itself upon 
the long dark dull-edged sword. She licked her rose-bud lips, took a 
deep breath that set her boobs to jostling, silently counted three, 
then thrust herself back and down. She let out a shrill, quickly muted 
scream as the reflection in the mirror confirmed what her ravaged 
vitals already knew, that she'd somehow managed to get all of his long 
black cock inside her. She jerked up at the sharp pain at her womb's 
entrance but cruel hands on her hips held her down. Her cunt went wild 
and began to clench and clutch and strangle at his dick with its tiny 
hands, as though to kill this ruthless ravisher, but all that did for 
her was to rouse her to almost instant climax. But before she could let 
herself go, she felt Wes' hot jet spurt high up into her, unable to 
escape into her vagina because of the plug he himself provided. She 
screamed again, harshly this time, as a hard and fiery wire seemed to 
be coring its way up through her stomach. Tears blinded her eyes but 
she felt him move and then his huge black hands were squeezing the 
bases of her breasts where they swung out from her body, gripping them 
into a tight circle of pain, pulling down at them like udders.

"Wes! Wes! Wes! What-are-you-doing-to-me-Wes? Wes-you're-hurting-me-
WES!!!" she shrieked, writhing her body, unable to escape his now 
jabbing black cock and his grasping vise of hands, feeling his sharp 
chin bore into her spine as he bore down strongly with his head. And 
then, miraculously, he sank back and let her go and, as she lifted 
herself but a quick, agonizing half-inch off him, a plug was pulled in 
her and she came and came and came and came in one long soul-shattering 
body-shuddering mind-blowing cascade, her needy body responding to her 
sudden relief by over-reacting, sending her into massive, splendorous 
paroxysms of pure and unadulterated plunges of pleasure. All time-sense 
was lost to her. She rammed herself up and down his still-still!!!!-
rampant black rod, roils of gasping gratification rippling along her 
body, screwing herself back and down on His prick, pulling herself up, 
bent awkwardly but uncaringly back so that she could place her splayed 
fingers hard down on her pubic mound and feel each glorious new 
penetration as it swelled her flesh, and lift and pump his black balls 
like a pair of enchanted douche-bulbs. And he let her have her way with 
this inspired instrument! Happy as a child with a new toy, she wriggled 
and squeezed and winced and gasped and cried and laughed and clenched 
and groped. It was wonderful! Why ... she had only to flick her 
flaunting clitoris and she was off to a new paradise of selfish sensual 
pleasure ... How long could it last? How long could he last? How long 
could IT last?

Maryon didn't know, not then or ever. Once or twice she halfheartedly 
tried to time herself by the clock, but always the inevitable little 
death sent her to the doors of drowsy, desire-drugged sleep.

Now, she was dimly aware that he lifted her off, his beautiful black 
cock still marvelously erect! --and laid her out on table-top, stool 
and chair as he had been, with her bundled clothes beneath her head.

Now, she was delightedly aware that, as he seated himself sideways on 
the stool alongside her languorously exhausted thighs, he made no 
objection to her firm hold on his princely prick as she drifted in and 
out of dreams.

Now, she was dormantly aware that he was telling her a story, something 
about why he called her Daisy Mae, how he called all his girls by their 
cast-names, how there was 'Baby Doll' and 'Nellie Forbush' and 'Doris 
W.' and of course, 'Eliza', his fair lady, and how he was so glad he 
could share himself with them all, and how they were eager and content 
to share Mm, and how she would be just as willing and happy to hustle 
her ass for him, once she was properly gentled ...

Now, she was drowsily aware that once more his hands were on her naked, 
sprawling white and golden body, readying her for fresh and unfancied 
fuckings. Anything, as long as she could satisfy her cravings with his 
licorice stick. She pulled it toward her and began happily to suck and 
lick. Yes, Wes, I'll screw for fun and profit ... profit for you, and 
fun for me only with you, you loveringly all-day licker, you!



Eighteen Years Old


When she'd gotten a little more used to the weird ways of Wesley 
McAlister, Maryon found herself amused by his cool attitude. He was the 
con man supreme, a super-pimp who was still ghetto-hustling, but with a 
scholastic cover and an acceptable, accepted image among writes that 
let him operate his stable of (with herself) five fillies with virtual 
impunity. Who would suspect him of running a string of high school call 
girls? From Glenville, no less?

The girls very seldom met, and then only the context of school. Once a 
week only Wes would set up an appointment for each with some John in a 
discreet apartment he'd rented in an oasis of residences just outside 
the heart of Metropolis, and there they turned their tricks. Wes 
handled the finances and was, so far as she could tell, generous in the 
gifts and allowances he made them. But it wasn't the money that they 
worked for, it was Wes himself in Maryon's own case even the sex got to 
be a bore, when it was not with him. For the black took the trouble to 
give her the semblance of loving, a least, and made sure that she was 
ready to bounce and blow before he got his own rocks off in her. But it 
was the whole put-on bit that really intrigued her and kept her with 
him. She had no intention of making a career out of hustling, but his 
idea of using 'Higher Education' to promote his own hustler's career 
kept her in a state of inner amusement. Unlike the other four times, 
Maryon didn't intend to drop out of school and spend the next few years 
of her life on her back. She had a pretty good idea of what kind of 
future there was in that! When, the following year, she was accepted at 
Central U. and told Wes she'd be moving upstate, he quite cheerfully 
wished her luck and let her go, after one glorious sneaked night of 
fucking with him in the apartment that left her bruised and happily 
weak, and owner of three single hundred dollar bills.

At Central she found herself thrust again into a new environment--the 
'new kid' at school all over again, but this time she was in no way 
eager to gain the friendship, or even attention, of any of the several 
thousand students who bustled the campus. Lois had managed to scrape up 
some money, chiefly out of Burt, though he complained he had enough to 
do supporting Michael at college ... and with Wes' three hundred she 
was easily able to escape the dormitories and sororities and take a 
couple of rooms of her own, a basement apartment off the beaten track 
so far as students were concerned, with its own entrance, and beneath a 
house whose owner used it infrequently.

Mike gave her a desultory hand at fixing it up, moving a few sticks of 
furniture in, knocking nails, helping to hang drapes over one weekend 
... but otherwise didn't interfere with her life in any way. 
Remembering Karen's room back in Glenville, Maryon draped all the 
walls, blocking out the window and designing a heavily curtained air-
lock for the doors, so that her storage space was all behind the thick 
cloth hangings, these on runners so that she could reveal her 
bookshelves, her record-player, her desk, and other possessions 
whenever she wanted to use them. Her bed was a box-spring and mattress, 
double-size, which sat in the middle of the smaller room, with yards of 
brightly colored cloth shielding it from the floor to ceiling like a 
tent. She rarely went out and most of the time she wasn't studying was 
devoted to reading Mead, Goodman, Wylie, Rubin, Reubin ... the Barb, 
Realist, Eyergreen and Avant Garde; and listening to Baez, Collins, 
Stones, Beatles, Dylan, Shankar.

Anthropology was her chosen field and she gained many useful sexual 
insights from it. She was all but through with The Naked Ape when she 
met Carver and it was memories of that book that still, floating in her 
head, led to her shacking-up with him in spite of her self-promise to 
keep out of the world as much as possible.

For once Mike had invited her to one of his pot parties. Wes had been 
almost puritanic about keeping his chicks off of anything stronger than 
aspirin and so this was her first experience with shit. With Mike 
around, she didn't figure she'd come to any harm, so when the others in 
the lowlit crowded room began to pass the joints around, she freely let 
herself go and so, perhaps, took in more than she should have of the 
acrid, rough-edged smoke. She soon got the hang of toking, though, and 
while at first she was a little uptight about her dizziness and the 
strange way the stuff affected her sight and hearing, it wasn't long 
before she was comfortably sprawled out on the cushions and relaxing. 
Next to her was Carver, a heavy-set blond boy, a contemporary of 
Mike's, apparently, who'd gone out of his way to talk to her throughout 
the evening, a bit to her annoyance. But his tanned face was almost 
simian, with great, jutting white-browed porches over his deep-set blue 
eyes, an unlined, symmetrically rectangular forehead, and arms that 
seemed too long for his squat and muscular body.

The low light glinted on the hairs of his forearm and the sight 
delighted her. She giggled. She reached out with one slim hand and 
began to tousle and stroke the little coils of gold wire. She knew what 
she had, and where, that would match them. She thought about it. Which 
was golder? Ho, could she find out? She giggled again. Carver leaned 
over her and asked what was so funny. She giggled like a child, 
wouldn't tell him, acting coy. He shrugged, bent down and kissed her. 
There seemed to be an animal musk about him. She continued to stroke 
his arm, squinting to keep it in focus. She rested his hand on her 
shirted belly, for convenience. In a moment she felt his fingers 
insinuate themselves between two button spaces. Casually she popped the 
three lower buttons and his hand cupped her navel. She continued to 
twist his hairs about her fingers. He flattened his hand and worked his 
fingertips under the edge of her belted jeans. Without thinking about 
where she was, she obligingly sucked in her belly and thrilled as he 
boldly slid His hand beneath her panties, over the curve of her belly, 
and pressed with one finger at its base. He pulled her up against him, 
half sitting, and brought his other arm about her, running his hand up 
under her partly opened shirt until it reached her bare breast. His 
exclamation of admiration caused her to bridge through her fuzzy funny 
feelings and she thrust herself forward so that her nipple rested 
against His fingers. She drew her legs up, forcing his other hand down 
between her thighs and jerked pleasurably as he laid a finger into her 
slot, rolling it a bit to part her moist lips.

"Hey ... Maryon! Let's get to bed and out of here," he whispered in her 
ear.

"Oh, sure," she murmured, beginning to get turned on and wanting the 
feel of a prick in her after her several months of abstinence, all the 
old sensations coming back to her. He looked as though he might be as 
good a stud as the next. "But I don't know if Mike'll let us, here."

"We'll go to your place. I'll drive," he said, squeezing her erecting 
nipple.

"What about your place, Carver? Do you have a chick stashed there? Oh, 
I don't care, anyway." She clamped her thighs on his fingering hand.

"Don't have a place ... or a chick," he replied. "Been crash-padding 
here with Mike. Get yourself in gear, chick, I'll pick up some shit and 
we'll split."

Abruptly his hands were withdrawn from her. She was, for the moment, 
disappointed. But later? When was later? Why not now? Oh, well ... She 
took a couple of deep tokes from the next joint that came her way, and 
drifted into a waking dream. Return of blond ape Carver. Button your 
shirt, Maryon, m'girl. Huh, okay. 'Bye and see' yuh to Mike. Kiss from 
Mike and have fun, Sis. Yuh, will do. Cold night air. Car. Week-long 
night-time drive, how pretty all those lights, and the reds and greens 
and yellows, stop-go-wait stop-go-wait. Hah! home. Matches? Matches? 
Oh, yeah ... for the joints. Joints? All this mine? Big fat 
motherfucker of a joint, big as m'pinkie. Wow, man ... hey, bed's over 
here. Yuh, fix y'self a sandwich. Wheeeeee! on the bed. Get these 
goddamn pants off! Huuuhhhhmmmm, yeah, man. This is good stuff, uh? 
Hey, now that's not fair. I've got my pants off, wassamatter with you 
... with yours, huh!!?

Later Maryon was to remember sitting cross-legged on the bed, wearing 
her unbuttoned shirt only, drawing huge drags on the joint, watching 
Carver, naked, unconcerned, also cross-legged, facing her. Somewhere 
along about then was the time he began to rub her clitoris with his big 
toe, but most of the night was a blur. In the late morning when she 
awoke to find him still peacefully sleeping there, she remembered his 
muscular body, with its flats and planes, as hairy as a golden ape, 
covered with crisp yellow matted fur. She was naked and her cunt was 
sore, though she couldn't remember the fucking that had caused it. She 
pulled down the black satin-like sheet until he was exposed, flat on 
his back, and looked at him. Even his balls were furry, though only a 
few stray strands of long golden hair decorated the lower part of his 
now flaccid cock. Brushing her own long golden hair back from her face, 
determined to really enjoy him now that she was in her own mind, she 
let her heavy breasts dangle down onto his hard belly and took to 
kissing him there. With one hand working on his hard and hairy balls 
and her expert mouth pulling and sucking at his limp prick, it wasn't 
too long before it showed signs of life and lust, springing up like a 
newly awakened flower.

His prick wasn't all that long--just comfortably so--but she was 
astonished at its width. This no doubt accounted for her soreness, for 
it was fully two inches across ... more at the coronal ring. It'd been 
circumcised and the lightly tanned flesh of it was smooth as satin to 
her tongue's touch and symmetrically domed ... almost a formalized 
artist's conception of a prick. As she continued to play with it, she 
felt him stir behind her, and then his hands were fondling her butt and 
breasts. He said nothing, content, evidently, to let her take the 
initiative. Presently he moved his hands to her legs and, taking her by 
one ankle, passed it across his chest so that she straddled him. Maryon 
stroked and smoothed his broad manhood, secretly determining to bring 
him off in her mouth, to give her cunt time to settle down. Even his 
prying fingers and occasional kisses on her slot were irritating, and, 
careful not to show antagonism, she said as much. Immediately he turned 
his attentions to her out-thrust ass, boldly before his eyes, and she 
shivered as his rough palms ran tenderly over the globes, gradually 
bringing his thumbs down into her crack to pull her checks apart as 
though he was halving a peach to get at the stone which was her blind 
brown rearward eye.

"You've got a beautiful ass," he said, after a while, running his 
tongue caressingly over the out-turned puckered ring of it. She 
wriggled encouragingly, feeling his cock stir in her mouth like a 
clapper in a bell. "Pity your pussy's all worn out right now," he went 
on. "I feel like putting it to you, hard and long and strong. Guess 
there's nothing for it but to fuck your ass."

Maryon froze. In all the situations she'd ever been in, she'd never 
lost her rear vent's virginity, gently dissuading the John's of Wes' 
who'd wanted to take it. And what was so special about this blond-ape 
Carver, that he should get in there? And with his great club of a cock?

"Oh, no you don't," she said, starting to swing her leg over him, but 
he thrust one powerful arm about the front of her thighs, pulling her 
back onto his other thumb which, after a moistening dip into her 
stirring cunt, he rammed into her rectum. Trying to fight him, she 
still could not prevent or put out of her mind the sensationally 
shocking feel of his digit as he pushed against the backside of her 
cervix, cracking a knuckle up under her coccyx. Using her as a lever, 
Carver shot himself up out from under her, dragging his hard prick from 
between her startled lips, and, still holding her in the crease of 
belly and thighs, pushed her forward. Stimulated despite herself, she 
heard the succulent sound as her pussy pumped lubricating moisture down 
the length of her vagina. Her asshole clenched and unclenched against 
his probing thumb, hot as an oven, burning her. The nail of a finger 
rubbed around the corrugations of its pouting lips.

"Oh yes I do!" he declared, and in a moment was kneeling behind her as 
she still continued to wink and work and suck at his thumb. Before she 
had begun to recover and realize what was happening, he put his left 
hand under her belly as she knelt and placed the other on the nape of 
her neck, under her golden hair. Using the moisture from her cunt and 
her mouth as already-applied lubricant, he thrust his broad blunt cock-
head between her cheeks, slid easily between them, and impaled her.

Lifting her effortlessly off the bed with his long and powerful arms, 
be stepped back and began to draw her in over him like a boot on a leg. 
With all the moisture, still his steady thrust hurt her, and yet a 
sudden strange desire kept her wanting him to continue. She yelled, she 
laughed, she sighed loudly, she screamed, she kicked him and cursed him 
for a motherfucker. She yearned, she wanted, she craved, she lusted and 
longed for him. She sobbed from pain and pleasure. Inexorably he pulled 
against her belly, and his mighty bar of flesh tore into her tender 
asshole until she yelled again with ecstasy, feeling his cock presently 
reach the bone of her spine, felt it begin to rip upward, seating her 
more firmly, inescapably, upon the spindle of his manhood.

Pausing for a moment, he spread his muscled legs, girding himself for 
another cock plunge into her tender softness, and bent her down easily 
over his arm so that she was at right-angles to him. He let her rest 
her hands on the edge of the mattress, ignored her almost hysterical 
moans and sighs, and took his hand from her neck long enough to draw 
her long, slender pale legs up and around him. Maryon had no sense to 
deny him this, and dug her heels into his hard balls of buttocks, 
feeling the flexing muscles there as he strained again to pull her. 
This move accomplished, he again forced her head down and moved back so 
that her hands slipped off the bed and she fell forward, her hair 
hanging down in a golden river to the floor. Vainly she reached to 
support herself on the soft carpeting but his other arm, a bar of 
yellow-burnished steel, held her up so that her fingertips scrabbled 
uselessly a couple of inches above it. Apart from the leverage of his 
arm, which he now moved up so that he could seize, squeeze, fondle and 
caress one breast, the bulk of her weight rested on his riveting spike. 
As she looked back along under herself, her reversed vision showed her 
other breast hanging, scarlet tipped like a cherry sundae, then His 
broad-splayed golden hand against her pale skin, then her writhing 
belly, the muscles playing like chain-lightning under the skin, and 
then, and then, and then ... the underside of that broad and hairless 
wet piston that just moments ago she'd so delicately toyed with in her 
mouth.

She shuddered, and screamed silently at the sight and shock of her 
passionate pain.

Obscuring a good portion of this horrifying vision was her pink-lipped 
pussy, pulsing wide open, the gold-dusted triangle of her dampening 
hair, and she was able--forced! --to see herself throbbing and sucking 
there on emptiness, with creamy moisture already oozing out of the 
slit. She went into a wild, meaningless, frenzied ululation as the 
great thing stuffed between the plump checks of her butt jerked and 
moved forward another half-inch, touching the seat of her womb, or so 
it seemed.

It was like being tom apart by wild horses. She had somehow expanded to 
fit his cock, but only just, and she was as tight around it as a rifle 
around a bullet.

She wanted to spend herself, yet there was an enormous, crying hollow 
in her cunt that yammered for the filling.

She clamped her ankles around him in an agony of frustration and at the 
same time he made a last stab into her. She felt his hard golden balls 
bang up against the searching moist lips of that gaping wound, and she 
clenched as though she could actually close herself about the slapping 
gourd-filled sack and take it in.

She squirmed herself down on him, looking through her tears back up at 
her humiliating hung self, crying to him wordlessly to satisfy her. But 
he only began to turn her this way and that like a chicken on the spit, 
wriggling her further down his shaft.

He released her head and placed one hand under each breast, cupping 
them, pressing them so that she cried out with pain, thumbing the 
hardened nipples until they sprang against his nail. She bucked and 
twisted and writhed, the great hotness of his flesh spearing her ass at 
each movement. Now he started to draw her off and on, her moisture and 
his lubricating the wrenched passage until there was a steady shwuck! 
shwuck! Shwuck! that sounded in her flaming ears above her own moans of 
pleasure and hurt and his deep draughts of air into his lungs.

Another long minute, and he brought one hand down under her and stuck a 
stubby finger straight into her slavering slot in a lunge that reached 
the agonized end of her vaginal sheath, and she came.

She shrilled with passionate delight as she flooded, and flooded, and 
opened up into a sea of liquid fire.

Immediately he let go of her and deftly brought his hands rapidly 
sliding up her back to bury themselves in her mass of golden hair and 
pull her sharply back. She hung suspended by her tresses and his 
driving prick, and as she involuntarily opened and closed her various 
sphincter muscles, she screamed at the top of her voice at the pain 
distributed throughout every inch of her slender, self-slung body.

Carver moved heavily forward and she just had time to brush aside the 
drapes surrounding the bed and throw her hands up against the wall, or 
her face would have been mashed into it. Braced as she was, he drove 
straight into her, burying most of his cock length into her quivering 
bowel flesh. Her whole being consisted of her tight flesh around his 
massive prick ... nothing else remained to or in her.

As she continued to jerk and jump like a fish on the line, he came, and 
a boiling raging torrent surged up into her ass. She was past 
screaming, but her mouth opened in a silent oh! of ecstatic agony.

A fiery freewheeling bomb built in her, somewhere just behind her 
belly, and exploded. The sensual pleasure fought against the sickening 
pain until, finally, it won, and she relaxed and let it all hang out as 
it wonderfully happened--glow and glory, heat and horrendous wetness--
rocket-burst after rocket-burst as he spent himself in plunging, 
rectum-wrenching, ass-ripping, butt-busting fusillades.

Carver relaxed his grip on her now and she hung from him in a limp 
loop, face down, arms and legs and neck dangling like a dead goose. 
Through searing eyes she saw her own spendings trickle and spurt down 
on his golden-furred balls to the floor as he continued to convulse and 
flicker within her cock-crammed cavity.

Finally he was through. His bag went flaccid and the shaft up her 
asshole became soft. He shuffled-toward the bed, bending his blond-ape 
legs so that her own, drooping down, could touch the carpeting. She 
slid painfully off his fragrant, brown-limp cock, giving a couple of 
last wringing-out squeezes before he was free, and flopped, exhausted 
but content, covered with dampness inside and out, upon the mattress, 
her ass sore and bruised, breasts aching, her cunt a red-hot void that 
felt uneasily pleasant.

Carver slapped her rump playfully and Maryon winced, but he dropped 
down beside her and put his arm about her shoulders. "First time?" he 
asked. She nodded. "Won't be the last," he laughed in her ear, and 
began to run a soothing finger up and down her crack.

And it wasn't. Not that he was particularly perverse, fixed only on 
fucking her ass, but Carver did like variety, and Maryon soon found 
herself adjusting. He stayed for four months until she learned from 
Mike that Carver looked forward to a life of being supported by girls, 
seeking neither to work nor study, but relying on his pussy-powered 
piston to get him along.

He wasn't that good, although he had humor and some tenderness in him, 
so ... out he went, with a grin and a groan.



Nineteen Years Old Plus


Carver went because he'd been using Maryon in a way that she could the 
more easily perceive because of her studies in Social Anthropology. As 
she moved into her nineteenth year and the beginning of the '70's she 
spent much time in analyzing her near decade of sexual experience and 
began to see that, though she had most often had her own pleasure, it 
had been at the price not, actually, of willing cooperation, but of an 
enforced coercement that had been laid on her by physical or moral 
pressures. Even when she had actively sought out some new enlargement 
of her sexual scene, it had usually come about by her being prepared to 
submit to another's whims.

She was now able to see that this would have been bearable, that to 
cater to someone else did not necessarily mean that one thereby had to 
lose something, that a compromise, or a share of giving was, after all, 
the only way in which any area of life could be maintained in a 
civilized manner. But, not knowing this at the time, she had appeared 
as a 'victim' to the other participants in her sexual adventures and 
had thereby been degraded in their eyes, from her brother Mike on 
through Colin and Sylvia and Johnny, through Karen, through the 'cats' 
... Jim, Wes, Carver. All had taken advantage of her and she had 
willingly gone along with them, taking her joys as though they had been 
crumbs thrown her from the table of the others' sensual feasts.

A comparison of various cultures throughout space and time showed her 
that it was always possible to find one that broke the more usual 
taboos ... incest as practiced in ancient Egypt, polyandry in Northern 
India, polygamy in China and in Islam, sodomy in Glorious Golden Greece 
... The list of unacceptable sexual practices' became smaller and 
smaller as she read and studied in the literature on the Global 
Village.

Mistress of all these facts, and of herself, Maryon began a steady 
program of search and fulfillment, determined to live a full and 
complete sex life. But the way was not necessarily easy because of her 
knowledge ...

A visit, alone, to a meeting of the local chapter of the Sexual 
Liberation Movement found her one evening on the porch of an old 
Victorian-style mansion whose purple-painted door and orange lintels 
proclaimed it as the repository of the 'new' and 'in' and 'far-out'. At 
her buzz the door opened to disclose a short, stringy-haired blonde 
girl in a throat-to-ankle wrapper, presumably an 'officer' or 
functionary of the SLM. An imitation Tiffany lamp gave off a red-bulbed 
glow to illuminate the small foyer into which she was quickly ushered, 
and another lit a slightly larger room opening off it. "Hi," said the 
girl, after locking the front door. "Just feel free to wander around. 
If you see anything you like ..." The statement was loaded with 
implication. "If you feel like skinning down, just drop your stuff in 
this room--find yourself a corner or something--it'll be easier to get 
yourself together that way when you're ready to split. Have fun."

With that the blonde pulled a pair of granny-glasses out of her pocket, 
put them on, and dropped the wrapper onto a chair to show herself as a 
rather chunky nude with a thick waist and a wealth of hair at her 
crotch. Looking at the flat planes of the girl's butt as she wandered 
away, Maryon begin to realize why the lighting was so subdued. She'd 
brought no purse, and she didn't feel like stripping down till she'd 
seen what the action was like here, so she contented herself with 
dropping her maxi-coat behind a couch whose surface was covered with 
little piles of clothing and went cautiously off to explore. Not quite 
knowing what to expect, she'd come dressed in a black leather ensemble 
of vest, mini and boots, over a pale blue bodystocking, the vest joined 
at the front with a single silver chain. She soon found that she was 
over-dressed. Practically all those she saw in the house were nude, and 
those that were not wore only minimum clothing that did more to enhance 
the wearer's sex than to conceal it. There was a tall, crop-haired 
black girl in glasses, for instance, who wore a kind of ornamental 
metallic yoke about her neck from which hung down hundreds of white 
silky filaments, through which her proud strong black breasts protruded 
impudently. When the girl struck a pose with a foot placed on the head 
of a boy on the floor, her long leg broke through the white waterfall 
to disclose a belly whose base was covered with a wooly black mat to 
match her hair.

Every room in the multi-roomed house had a different colored light-bulb 
either hanging from the ceiling or glowing from a stand in a comer. And 
every room in the house contained at least five people engaged in some 
quasi-sexual activity, from comparatively innocent naked necking 
between boy and girl to several copulating couples to blow-jobbing men 
to mutually masturbating girls. There seemed to be very little 
voyeurism involved, and Maryon figured this was because there was just 
too much to do. Everybody seemed to have found a partner but even as 
she watched two couples merged together and changed partners in mid 
course and a single roving male wandered into a room to thrust his 
hand-held erection in between a mobile mouth-and-cunt team to no one's 
objection. Do-it-yourself seemed to be the name of this game. Still, 
Maryon wasn't quite ready to be this indiscriminate and sought for some 
halfway measure that would take her out of the role of being mere 
spectator. Returning to the room off the foyer, she saw that it was 
already occupied by a bearded male whose age she couldn't quite 
determine in the dim light. Naked, he was stretching himself as if 
weary, in a pose that reminded her of some Roman statue, his back 
toward her, head half turned. At sight of her he grinned and good-
naturedly winked, immediately taking her into his aura of semi-boredom 
with all this. Ignoring him Maryon unchained her blouse, put it down 
onto her maxi-coat, and began to unbuckle the broad belt of her mini. 
The man ... no boy, he, she could now make out ... momentarily paused 
in his task of pulling on a brief pair of black Jockey shorts to look 
at her, and kept His eyes on her body as she dropped the skirt and 
stepped out of it to reveal her long, slim-waisted and voluptuously 
curved breasts and ass in the tight-clinging blue bodystocking. She'd 
noticed a Jot of crap on the floor, litter, paper, bits of broken 
plastic wine-glasses, and decided to keep her black boots on. When she 
left the room she noticed from the corner of her eye that the bearded 
man, in his late twenties or early thirties, had restricted himself to 
the Jockey shorts and was preparing to follow her. Well ... who knew? 
He looked like he might be pretty good. Conscious of his continued 
gaze, she let her blue-shrouded butt Toll just a bit more than usual 
and drew herself up so her tits would stand resolutely out against the 
thin covering.

She climbed the stairs, stepping over a girl stretched blindly writhing 
on them with an unsexually defined long-haired head buried in her 
crotch, and made her way to a room lit with discreet blue table-lamp 
that, she soon realized, as she caught a glimpse of herself in a 
mirror, canceled out her costume so that it seemed she was a nippleless 
blue-skinned Venusian in boots. The room's single bed contained a 
number of slowly-moving bodies, all naked, of both sexes, while on the 
bizarrely carpeted floor sat two youths and a girl, a black with an 
Afro, a thin boy with a WASP-hive ... the girl, perhaps a redhead, 
heavily made-up about the eyes and mouth, hair cut short and close to 
her scalp, her chest nearly as flat as the boys', all nude. Judging 
from the quick look Maryon gave them as she entered, they were rapping 
about something non-sexual, for the two pricks and twin nipples were 
soft and unaroused.

But her arrival brought something new into the scene. "Hey, man," 
greeted the black, "whad'y'know, baby!? Come sit down a while ... park 
your butt."

Shrugging to herself, aware that the black-banded beard was leaning 
against the doorway, Maryon crossed over and let herself limberly to 
the floor. Immediately WASP-head reached out and touched her breast. 
"Wow," he breathed. "Y'had me fooled there, chick. Thought you'd cut 
your knockers off there for a while. How come you're all dressed up? 
You uptight or som'p'n?"

"Way out, honey," said the girl. She was a redhead, Maryon decided, 
after a look at the blue-glinting auburn oasis that sat between the 
girl's thighs. She nodded and said Hi!, glad to be so easily accepted 
into the group, not at all minding that the WASP was continuing 
absently to stroke her breast through the tight-knit material, the 
black was running his hands through her hair, and the girl plucking at 
the muscle of her thigh.

"I'm Maryon?" she asked, and quickly the others responded, as "Wash", 
"Dave", and "Vinny."

"We were just rapping about recruiting, getting in fresh blood," 
offered Wash, fingering her ear. "We's interested in turning on some 
more bodies to where it's all at with us ... We kinda run the SLM 
y'see."

"Yeah," put in Dave, "welcome to the club, Maryon chick. Haven't seen 
you before, here or anywhere."

"Uh-huh ... I'd've remembered her!" said Vinny, running the back of one 
hand along Maryon's thigh and taking the blonde girl's wrist in her 
other to place it against her flank.

"Ae you bi, honey?"

Maryon laughed lightly. "Can do," she said, "but I can take it or leave 
it, frankly."

"Mmmhhh ... but can you give it, honey," throated the redhead.

"And give and give and give and give!, I bet," said Dave, fully engaged 
now in tweaking at her nipple to make it cone out against the material.

"And life's just full o'give 'n' take," drawled Wash, leaning over to 
kiss her ear and run his tongue around in it so that she tingled.

Both boys were getting hard-ons, Maryon noticed, while Vinny's 
ridiculously small nipples poked out of her like nail-heads. Behind her 
the figure at the door came just inside and sat with his back against 
the jamb. She stretched her legs out straight in their boots, leaned 
back on her hands, and brazenly offered herself up to their combined 
caresses. "I guess I do all right," she said, closing her eyes and 
pressing her ear against Wash's thick-lipped mouth.

Vinny still had hold of her wrist but, instead of trying to bring it 
again to her own body, bounced herself cross-legged over the carpet 
until she was slightly behind Maryon, on the opposite side from the 
young black, and adjusted herself so that now the blonde girl's arm was 
encircled by her legs, with her hand trapped under the copper-covered 
pussy. She leaned forward so that her chin rested on Maryon's shoulder. 
"You want to make it with me, honey?" she whispered, squirming so that 
Maryon could feel her loose wet vulva on her knuckles, warm and juicy.

She hesitated. She wasn't sure yet just what she wanted. Dave must have 
overheard the question. "Hey, Vinny chick, no fair you hog it all, you 
pig. I could do with a bit of bishop-bashing myself!"

"Me too, man," said Wash in her other ear. "Say ... what say we all get 
our rocks off, huh, baby?"

"Okay," said Maryon, after but a moment's hesitation. "But I'll have to 
get out ..."

"Hey, hey ... we gonna liberate you, we liberate you all the way," 
cried Wash, getting to his feet and going over to the bed, whose 
occupants were still dreamily hugging and humping. Leaning over them, 
the black picked up something from the bedside table and returned to 
the three on the floor. "C'mon, Maryon," he said, "just kneel up, now 
... that's right. Now just lean yourself back again, baby, like you 
were before ... yup, that's the way. Now, just hang in there a minute 
..."

Arched backward over her heels, her cuntish mound and the twin peaks of 
her breasts thrown prominently up at either end of the straining curves 
of her hard, firm belly, Maryon saw, upside down, the bearded stranger 
tugging the black Jockey shorts from his ankles. Across the blue-hazed 
room she could make out the dark forest between his thighs out of which 
sprang a barkless white tree-trunk of sturdy proportions.

Something cold touched her own invisible thighs and, after her initial 
jump of surprise, it took her several seconds before she realized that 
Wash was cutting away the thin blue material at her crotch with a pair 
of scissors. She bridled at the thought of her blonde fuzz and pink-
lipped luscious fruit being thus exposed. After he'd taken a good-sized 
triangle out Wash, bidding her be still, cut two neat circles about the 
globes of her breasts so that she could feel her taut nipples spring 
out as their tension was released to the air.

Swiftly Wash and Dave slid alongside of her, put an arm each under her 
shoulders, took her own arms and pulled them down so that her hands 
rested on their rampant pricks, they lowered their lips to her breasts. 
Hands caught at her booted bent legs and pulled them out and apart. A 
warm wet sponge seemed to soak down on her and she knew that the 
redhead had placed her hungry lips to the steamy dish of meat that 
Maryon presented. In her hands she clutched the upstanding staffs of 
the two men who mouthed her bared breasts, while their hands held her 
shoulders down to the carpet, and slid smoothly up and down the blue 
nylon of her inner thighs. She squeezed and rubbed and jerked at their 
two pricks, rubbing her thumbs over their tips, slicing her nails into 
their opened holes, basketing their balls with her fingers. Her cunt 
responded quickly to the probing tongue of Vinny, who varied her 
industrious employment by taking the gristle of her clitoris between 
her teeth and grinding on it gently. After a little while the activity 
at her core ceased, and then the red-tufted crotch of the other girl 
came down on her face as Vinny reversed herself over the blonde and, as 
her busy mouth returned to its tantalizing task, Maryon began to work 
her own lips around the soft and juicy fruit laid against them. She 
slid a long lascivious tongue in between the pomegranate halves and 
probed mercilessly, urging the other on to do likewise. Hot silky 
thighs clamped about her cheeks and moved slowly there as Vinny 
strained to offer a loving cuntish kiss, herself now laving 
languorously in a cat's lick about the blonde girl's craving cleft.

Maryon brought her black-booted long legs up, bending her knees, and 
let her inner thighs slither their nyloned sleekness about the 
redhead's ears, letting Wash and Dave continue their tormenting teasing 
behind her knees and down into the covered crack of her ass.

Her breasts began to move of their own volition as they answered the 
close-mouthed questing questionings of the two whose naked cocks she 
held so hotly, and beneath Vinny's light weight she began to move 
restlessly as her nipples were nipped and chewed like succulent candy. 
The sight of the red-haired girl's hard small blue-white buttocks above 
her wide blue eyes stirred her to fresh sexual stimulation and she 
closed them, wishing to prolong and savor the mood and feeling ...

Then with a shock she realized that Vinny had suspended her titillating 
torture, and that something else was replacing her mobile mouth. 
Something that was beginning to penetrate her eager, yearning vagina. 
Something too large, surely, to be the redhead's thumb ...

She opened her eyes in welcoming wonderment and was startled to see, 
peering cheerfully down at her, sighting at her between the blue-tinged 
ice cream scoops of Vinny's trembling ass, the face of the bearded 
stranger. With the cooperation of Vinny, who'd moved her head sideways 
on Maryon's widespread thigh, he'd sunk his shaft into her expertly 
prepared quim and now, with his hands firmly grasping her shoulders 
around the outsides of the red-haired girl's thighs, he was pulling his 
prick into her. With the weight of the two bodies on top of her, Maryon 
was breathless, but in no way could she prevent the rapidly cresting 
pleasure he was giving her. Trigger-happy from Vinny's manipulations of 
her little clit, she sucked in her belly, buried her head wildly 
burrowing into the sweet-sour fruit between her jaws, and came in a 
wave of sweet release that flushed her body like a hot shower on a cold 
day.

Her hands jerked spasmodically and she felt sticky cum on her wrists as 
Wash and Dave spent their loads. Gagging and gasping for breath, she 
could not stop the oozing stream of Vinny's cream as it trickled down 
about her lips nor control the convulsive jerkings of her loins as they 
threshed to expend their contents. Hot and flushed and elated and 
satisfied, Maryon still had to wait until the stranger suddenly spouted 
off in her, adding a fresh sensory stimulus to her quivering cunt that 
set her to deep, strong squeezes that rippled along his comfortable, 
steady-stroking cock.

Finally she almost passed out under the strain, weight and excitement, 
but she was aware that the others moved from her for an instant before 
coming back to take her into a warm family embrace that rolled them, 
laughing and exhausted, on the carpet.

She shook her head to clear it and found herself facing Wash. "Hey, 
baby, like we said ... welcome to the club," he said. Then, as an 
afterthought, added, as he rolled the bearded stranger onto her: "This 
here stud's Nick. How'r you doin', Nick?"

Suddenly the thought of being introduced to a guy who'd just finished 
fucking her struck her as funny, and she went into hysterical giggling 
which caught the others up in nervous relief.

And that's how Maryon met Nick ... how I met Nick.

We stay more or less together now, each of us having a small apartment, 
across the hall from each other so that we can visit at will and still 
have a place of our separate own.

I went twice more to a SLM meeting, once alone, once with Nick. I 
didn't need it any more, but it was pleasant for me to see others going 
through stages that I'd long since passed through on my way up to Nick. 
For he gratifies me, treats me as a person ... as a woman in womanly 
things, as an equal in Manly things.

For a time, while I was still, I suppose, unconsciously rebelling 
against the feelings I was having toward him, I set out deliberately to 
pick up men, in bars, in cafes, even on the street, treating them as 
the sexual object they evidently thought me to be ... putting them 
through their surprised paces, playing the part of a male in a rut.

But, well ... Nick and I are making it. I have my Bachelors, and mean 
to spend some time in what I call Sexual Anthropology. Nick is in the 
same field ... the same bag. We have a lot more to do in bed than fuck, 
and on the other hand if we feel like having it off at two o'clock of a 
Wednesday afternoon between classes we'll find a convenient closet and 
he'll slip it to me.

If we have a philosophy about it, I guess you could say we both agree 
that fucking should be fun, that it should have flavor and fervor, and 
that it should be freely participated in ...


The End
