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.