"Oh God! Beautiful!" she whined as she felt it ricocheting around in a warm wet pool far up inside her vagina. All that lovely lust-quenching semen being squirted into her felt so warm and heavenly…
Brute… she thought. Brute… Working her undulating muscles up and down around Guy's swiftly depleted rod of flesh, struggling for yet another really magnificent orgasm, she knew already that it was too late – that pussy-satisfying hardness was gone, and the only vision left in her beautiful head was Brute's face, laughing at her.
She flung her arm up over her head, sobbing out bitter tears of frustration. How was it that she had so suddenly forgotten her preoccupation with Guy's supposed infidelity… so suddenly become so hypersexed that one orgasm was not enough for her, after so many weeks of utter frustration?
And, why did she keep seeing her dog's face?
CHAPTER THREE
School hadn't gone so well for her that day, twelve year old June reflected, walking home in the late afternoon down Isabella Street.
Not a small part of her discontent could be attributed to the lascivious sexual scene she had overheard from her parents' bedroom that morning as she made her way down the hall to the bathroom.
Of course, she accepted the fact that her parents had sex together. Still, it was especially disturbing to her to overhear her mother's delighted gasps and moans and her father's panting groans as he fucked his wife. There was her jealousy, for one thing, and then there was the fact that her masturbation fantasies concerning her father were increasingly dissatisfactory in erotic content. No, her fingers were no longer enough, she thought gloomily. She was really hopelessly drugged on this sex thing, and she needed more!
At times she dreaded to consider just what that might mean in real terms. She had glimpsed her father's penis several times while growing up, and she remembered it very distinctly as something huge, masterful and fearsome. There was its thickness, for one thing – even at rest, it always appeared bloated and fat, traced all over and around with pulsating blue veins, hanging curved and dangerous looking above testicles which, she was convinced, might be very bruising on her tender young buttocks if they ever…
Well, but that was all conjecture. Nothing like that could ever happen between herself and her daddy. It was taboo, and she would never know where to begin to approach him. He probably regarded her as an obnoxious little brat anyway.
June sighed and continued walking. She shook some length of golden hair out of her eyes and blew it off to the side, looking at the ground. It was a beautiful day in Wilmette, with the spring sunshine in full array after several days of rain. There was a scent of heady sensuality in the air, common to the first nice days of spring. She could feel her loins tingling irrelevantly, out of control. She would have willed it to stop if she could, but it was hopeless. There was nothing she could do except move along, head down and helpless beneath this spring-induced churning sensation which had so flooded her loins with the warm sticky sweetness of sexual arousal.
Overhearing her parent's morning fuck had really made her jealous, so much so that she was scarcely able to concentrate on another thing as she prepared her toilette. It was all she could do to put those sounds of rampant bestial sensuality out of her mind during the interminable school day which followed. She'd thought of them together, her breath coming very fast, as she prepared her own breakfast, then lovingly set a place for her dad, then set out the various breakfast items so that Mom would be ready to prepare it the moment she appeared in the kitchen that morning, dressed and perfumed from her hot sexual scene with Daddy.
The young blonde had tried reading the morning paper for a little while, but not to very good effect. The trouble was she couldn't concentrate, because she kept seeing them, locked in a flaming sexual embrace, Daddy with his enormous red penis sliding in and out of her mother's burning cunt, gleaming with the moisture of her inner softness. And then, of course, her jealousy increased and she thought of it again – it was a vicious circle. It made her jealous, and when she became jealous she thought of it, which made her still more jealous. That awful scene of her mother and father rutting like two animals in the wilds of their large round bed.
These were the thoughts which had dominated the impressionable adolescent's entire day. She'd been nervous and apprehensive of showing anything when her parents finally came down to breakfast, and then after that she thought about them all day long and of what it must be like to be – she didn't want to use that naughty word cousin Ronald had taught her, but she couldn't help it – to be fucked by her handsome and masculine Daddy.
Not that she had shown anything, of course. "Morning, kitten," her dad had said when he came into the breakfast room, kissing her lightly on the cheek. She had been afraid to answer because her throat felt all choked up, but she had smiled as best she could. And then he had ruffled the morning paper she had set out by his place, harumphed and began reading.
But what could she do? Now? What could she do now?
Originally, masturbation had seemed to be the answer, but now it scarcely satisfied her any more. She needed more, something, anything that would quench this insatiable need in her hyper-aware young loins. But what would it be? An actual boy's penis sliding in and out between her widespread legs?
Her breath whooshed with desire, even as she thought of it. But wouldn't that be heavenly, if she did actually get a real penis inside of her – all nice and thick and hard…
That was the problem again. For, coupled with her urgent pubescent desire, there was also a vague, hopelessly shapeless fear that real intercourse with a real penis would rip her tender virginal pussy to bloody shreds. If all men's things were like Daddy's and she had no reason to believe they weren't – how could they possibly fit into the small, tender opening which existed down there between her smooth young legs within that quiet little "vee" of sparse blonde pubic hair?
No, it was unthinkable. Real sex with a real man would probably kill her.
But, on the other hand, what other choice was there? What other choice did she want!?
Disconsolate, it seemed as if very few choices were open to her at her tender age. And she couldn't exactly confide in her mother about the terrible shameless desires which whirled around inside of her pretty little head and tingling belly when she lay in bed at night thinking of Daddy. That was also unthinkable. Secrets built up quickly. She could no longer discuss her most personal problems with her mother, who had always been her very best friend. It was all too difficult.
So, it seemed that, all day long, the troubled young pre-teen had been confronted by a series of frightening and insoluble choices that left her brain only a mass of hopeless confusion. How could she possibly sort it all out? From first to last, her preoccupation with her new sexual difficulty had distracted her from doing anything useful in school, and there had been some clashes with teachers who accused her of not paying attention. What was the answer?
"Hi."
June looked around. It was her fifteen year old cousin Ronald. He also lived on Isabella Street, but he usually came home a different way, after playing basketball all afternoon in the courtyard at St. Ludmilla's church. Ronald was a tall, lanky boy with a shock of almost white-blond hair and a kind of stupid smile which only served to exaggerate the crookedness of his teeth and the curiously unshaven straggling hairs on his young jawline. Though a lot of girls regarded Ronald as interesting, June thought of him as somewhere between a caterpillar and a worm, when placed next to her dad, who was everything any girl could ever dream of with respect to masculinity.