She decided to accept with gratitude whatever the gods of love might give. At the moment they were giving her a soft warm mouth and two tender hands doing their best to stimulate her tits, licking her until the hardness of her nipples rivaled that of the-thirteen-year-old's hard-on.
And sullen fourteen-year-old Albert was surprisingly coy as he made his initial exploration into the hairy jungle of cunt country. His hand still fluttered its hesitant way up and down her thigh, sending sensual tremors up and down her spine until Ted wanted to shriek and yodel her delight. She didn't know whether it was the long abstinence that was turning her on so or if… suddenly Ted wondered if she had always been this way, with this hidden appetite for young boys in pairs, in trios, by the half dozen…
Somewhere half hidden in her memory was a thought… something had happened once when she was a little girl. But who cared what had happened way back then when right now at this minute she lay here naked with two boys kissing her, both eager to prove their manhood. She was going to get fucked. Royally. Over and over!
But it was still Ted's first try at a threesome. She didn't have the slightest idea of how to go about it. Would the boys take turns? Or did she have to devise some method to gratify or delay one while the other was performing? She tried to ignore the multiple sensations of hands and tongues working over her titillated body long enough to think. She couldn't think of anything except how nice it felt.
Little John was kissing dainty circles around her tits, zeroing in on her areolas, licking her nipples. Finally he learned how to plug one nipple into an ear while sucking the other in a game of 'telephone'.
The older boy was busy exploring cunt country. From the timid sorties of his tongue she knew what he wanted to do. But the boy was afraid to test the strength of his own convictions. She felt sympathy for him. Any ghetto boy who had spent fourteen years hearing epithets like cuntlapper and muffdiver would be hesitant. How could he know the proportion of sour grapes that went into these bitter titles, grapes squeezed from the soured empty lives of those unfortunate enough not to find a suitable partner and learn the capacity for joy within their own deprived bodies?
Albert was kissing and nuzzling her belly, plowing his nose into her navel, darting out for timid forays of kissing to the edge of her abundant black pubic patch. She could sense the way he was drawn toward her secret slit, torn between the memory of all those 'dirty' words-he had heard and his sudden discovery of the erotic possibilities. His band caressed her thighs, running gently up and down their tender inner surfaces but apart from one gentle flick which she guessed must have been accidental the older boy had not actually gotten even a finger into her cunt.
Suddenly she knew what was wrong. She remembered the crude stick figures drawn on toilet walls along with more pungent graffiti. Invariably they represented a woman's machinery as a crude slit amid her pubic hair-something in the direct front of her body situated so that a man with a hard-on could walk casually forward and stick it in without missing a step in the waltz. Albert was looking for her cunt in the wrong place. He was afraid to display his abysmal ignorance of the female form by exploring any more in the wrong places.
Ted opened her thighs slightly as his hand came upward in its tender peregrination along her soft inner thigh. The boy's hand once more contacted the fringe of hair on her vulval lips and shied off. His face was buried in her belly just short of the upper border of her pubic patch.
Ted didn't know what to do. Naked, with two naked boys kissing her secret, parts, it was no time for false modesty. She knew Albert's instincts were leading him in the right direction. But how could she help him out? How could she let him know what he was contemplating would not cause thunderclaps and an abrupt end to the world? How could she tell him where it was, that he was a welcome visitor, that all kinds of wonderful things would stem from the junction of her cunt with his mouth? She thought fleetingly of that first time on Mr. Hammel's casting couch. The bald-headed producer hadn't needed anyone to tell him where to put his mouth.
But that was twenty-seven years ago and the middle-aged man had known where he was going and his target had not been obscured with a forest of glossy black pubic hair. Ted's problem was now, with a stiff-pricked fourteen-year-old who was unwilling to admit he couldn't find her ass with both hands.
If she were to grab his head and push him down into where he couldn't help but make contact… Too risky, she decided. The boy would remember all the pejorative terms invented by those too deprived or too timid to do what comes naturally.
If she were subtly to guide his hand?
There were practical difficulties here too, she knew. Children were natural born conservatives, unwilling to experiment even with strange foods. Ted had just cum. She knew her seething slit would be damp. If he got his hand in first he would be revolted by the very naturalness of nature. Salvation came to her with a flash of blinding inspiration.
Reaching behind her on the narrow settee bunk, she found the jersey she had just shed. With her right hand she captured the nape of Albert's neck in what she hoped he would take as a sudden excess of passion. While she was holding his face pressed deep into the smooth softness of her belly she hastily passed the wadded jersey through her crotch, wiping love's juices away and leaving him a fresh beginning.
She tossed the jersey behind her where it could be handy again then, still holding the boy blinded with his face buried in her belly, she snaked her hand down off the settee until she found the hot throbbing tip of his tool.
Ted closed her fist over it snugly, squeezing just enough to drive the virgin boy into a frenzy of lust. When he bucked and shuddered she was ready. Opening wide her thighs, she drew his panting mouth across her glossy black pubic patch down into the warm softness-of her secret slit. She felt the warm breath of his surprised gasp as he felt his lips mate with the gaping hairy lips of her vulva. Before he could recoil she locked her thighs over his ears imprisoning the boy with his mouth squarely over her cunt. She gave his cock another squeeze.
Chapter 7
The boy's warm mouth over her pussy felt so wondrously finger-lickin' good that for an instant Ted was transported back to that first time twenty-seven years ago on Mr. Hammel's casting couch when she had been a tight-bodied, hairless pussied twelve and the bald-headed producer had been fifty going on a hundred.
Mr. Hammel had grabbed her legs and hooked her knees over the tweedy roughness of his shoulders. Then he had bent his head into the hairless gape of her crotch and resumed that kissing and licking that made her feel all funny inside. It was the oddest sensation Ted had ever experienced, this simultaneous tightening and loosening that made her feel as if she had to pee, that made her feel all tight and twisted up inside, yet seemed fraught with the promise of a warm soft release more relaxing than a hundred hot baths.
His hands gripped her waist, sustaining most of her weight so that the awkward posture hanging by her knees from his shoulders was not all that uncomfortable. His wonderfully knowledgeable mouth found the secret triggers that started that delicious tightening once more. Slowly, his tongue rasped up the tender inner, side of one hairless vulval lip and down the other. His tongue darted in to touch her clit, to lick a lascivious circle around it before going down to invade her vagina through the tiny opening at the bottom of her hymeneal curtain. With her maidenhead still intact, Ted was being thoroughly tongue fucked by this skilled practitioner. It felt so good she was unable to worry about the consequences. After all, momma had told her to do what Mr. Hammel said so she might as well enjoy it.