She ran her titillating fingernail around Albert's balls, tickled their squirming hairiness, ran that gentle loving finger up the sensitive underside of his cock and stopped momentarily, to pat the bottom of his cockhead. The boy lunged uncontrollably and nearly poked her eye out.
It was the first time she had been able to get, a really good close look at the boy's equipment. His cock was long and straight, with a beautifully formed head that came to a rather sharp point, then flared magnificently to a glans penis that she still remembered for the way it had gone into her like a whaler's harpoon, hooking deep inside and trying its rigid best to turn her inside out each time the boy pulled it out. As she studied this magnificent cock only inches away the angry purple tip of the head peeped one-eyedly from the boy's tight-stretched foreskin.
She ran a testing finger around the taut foreskin and was rewarded with a throbbing jerk of renewed passion. The boy's pelvis reacted involuntarily under passion's stimulus and he lunged until she had to move her head away. Meanwhile little John was pumping away steadily between her legs, filling her whole body with a warm and gentle fullness. The curly-headed thirteen-year-old still played a frantic game of telephone, plugging one nipple into an ear, licking his message of love into the opposite tit, then switching rapidly to listen to his message transmitted through the vibrant nerves of her passion-flushed body.
Ted's tiring body was so assaulted with fresh and lovely sensation she hardly knew how to appreciate all the wonderful things that were happening to her. Her slack cunt had once more tightened as the boy's relentless prodding reawakened desire in her flat-muscled belly. Her tender inner thighs glowed from the friction of that wonderful hard-muscled little ass working so valiantly between them. Her vagina's flushed inner surface filled with fresh throbbing juices to lubricate the boy's tireless thrill drill. She felt her womb quiver with anticipation as it stirred and struggled to open and receive the boy's precious load. Under the boy's constant licking and kissing and sucking her tiny, still virginal nipples swelled and throbbed with the desire to suckle a child she had never had. She felt her insides twist and chum, gathering strength for a new assault on the slopes of Mount Orgasm and wondered what she could do to stop it.
She had to stop thinking about what little John was doing to her. No matter how delightful it felt to lie here and let the curly-headed thirteen-year-old pimp himself to exhaustion as be ministered to her need, she had to shut him out and think of something else unless she wanted to scale those heights and once more plunge into an abyss of uncontrollable, gut-wrenching passion that would leave her weak and trembling, without will or control. She had to get her mind off what the wonderful little boy was doing to her.
Suddenly she realized that, boxed in as she was between two passionate and immature studs there was only one way she could divert her awareness from what the younger boy was doing to her, all the wonderful ways he was trying to wear out her cunt. She knew now it was time to devote herself to giving the older boy his moment of joy too. There was, she new, more blessedness in giving than in receiving.
Ted took a deep breath, focused her eyes on the throbbing gently waving tip of Albert's hot throbbing tool. Moving gently toward it, she saw it go out of focus. Then she could feel the passionate warmth of it radiating toward he cheeks and lips. She opened her mouth wide, moved resolutely forward until she felt that throbbing warmth inside her. Then, very carefully she began closing her mouth.
Chapter 10
The boy's reaction was one of mixed delight, surprise, and disbelief. She wondered why the boy should be so surprised. After all, he had paid his entry fee into her cunt by licking it, kissing it, nibbling on her clit until she had been swimming in a sea of passion so storm tossed she would have cheerfully admitted a bargepole into her seething slit. Now she was just returning the compliment. If it did nothing else, at least this exercise would help her get her mind off all the wonderful ways little John was trying to make her cum again.
She let her lips close rightly around the shank of Albert's flagpole. She felt the great throbbing head of his thrill drill thumping wildly atop her tongue, filling her whole mouth with a warm vibrant maleness as the boy struggled not to cum. She heard him grit his teeth and felt him stiffen with the effort to contain himself.
Meanwhile little John pumped indefatigably, wearing away at her cunt, filling her with a delicious tiredness interrupted occasionally by wild flashes of flaming passion that brought her nearly to the edge of orgasm. She tried not to think about what was going on down below, the lovely in and out, in and out of the thirteen-year-old's fabulous six inches, the passionate dedication of his nonstop game of "telephone" on her firmly upstanding tits.
Instead, she concentrated on the skin flute which Albert had presented for her to play, trying to remember what it reminded her of to have that hot throbbing hammer filling her mouth.
Today seemed to be a day for memories. She hadn't thought about Mr. Hammel and his approach to virginity for years. It was funny. She had always thought she was just a little less interested in sex than most people. After all, she had managed to remain a virgin until she was in her late twenties. And the various abortive experiences during her years as a demi vierge had all retreated into some, limbo where they had moldered in forgotten neglect until this afternoon when her body had finally wrought its vengeance against her and rebelled. Now she was remembering all sorts of things. Like the time after Mr. Hammel.
Reflecting now, she supposed the impresarios must have each possessed his little black book of complaisant mothers of Lolita-ballerinas. In any event, she had never lacked for a job after that month with Mr. Hammel. She remembered Mr. Hughes, lean and tweedy, who had produced the next show she was in. He had opened a new dimension in her life. He had taught her to love the great outdoors.
At first Momma had been doubtful but some secret sign had passed between them and the next thing Ted knew she was being driven out into the country by Mr. Hughes who had scared her nearly out of her wits with his warnings about snakes.
Ted had never seen a snake outside of a zoo. And in those dear dead days before TV she was fair game for any wild story from hoop snakes to the kind that sucked cows. Mr. Hughes had not led her down the garden path with any such tall tales. Instead, he had given her a more or less factual account of the number and variety of snakes in this part of California.
"Actually," he reassured her, "we'll probably never even see one. But it's best that you know what to do just in case."
"What's that?" Ted wondered. She was wise by now in the ways of producers and when Mr. Hughes had pulled her over next to him in the coupe and draped an arm over her shoulders she had not stiffened or struggled. Actually, she had suspected something or other was going to happen. She didn't mind. She was just curious about when and how.
"Well," Mr. Hughes said, "they make snake kits. They're a little thing with a piece of razor blade and rubber gadget for sucking but they're not much good and you never seem to have one when you need it."
"Oh?"
"So the best thing to do," he continued, letting his hand slip a little lower down the front of her middy blouse, "is to learn how to use the old-fashioned tools."
"What are they?"
"Well, in the unlikely event that a snake should ever bite you or a companion," he said, "use a knife or anything you have handy to make a cut right across the fang marks. Then you have to suck out the poison."
"Suck it out?"
"Otherwise it can actually get serious. People can die if it doesn't get sucked out before it gets into the blood stream."